WYSIWYG

Last weekend I was doing things around the apartment and I put on Unspeakable Axe's Masocast, the kinkster's answer to the Charlie Rose show. Axe is a very engaging and funny interviewer. His shows illuminate the Scene in creative ways that I've not run across in any other venue. As well, I just cranked up the volume and did stuff while he chatted away. Other times when I'd listened, I'd stolen moments here and there, worried that my wife would come in and I'd get "busted". But now, as I approach a year of separation, I just let it rip.

I listened to two or three shows, but was most engaged by the talk with Stephen Elliot. Retired Domme suggested I read Elliot's book, "My Girlfriend Comes To The City And Beats Me Up". Lazy pleasure reader that I am, I've only gotten through a few of the erotic vingettes. He is an accomplished and talented writer who is open and out about being submissive to dominant women. He, Axe, and Alex talked about his writing, his life, and his politics. In his introduction to "My Girlfriend" Stephen writes;

"We can't wait for the approval of others; we must force them to accept us. We will never have political power until we let the politicians know we are not ashamed."

In theory I completely agree, but reality makes it a very complicated proposition. Alex questioned Stephen quite closely about this idea and while she obviously agreed with him, she recognized that many people have a lot to lose by being "out". She's quite out herself, but she defended those of us who still fly beneath the radar. She wondered if society was really ready to open its arms to those courageous enough proclaim their kink.

I think if everyone who had ever seen a prodomme, worked responsibly in the sex industry, played kinky games in the bedroom, or bought bdsm toys took to the streets, put their fists in the air, and chanted loud, proud, and in unison; "We love our kink and your laws stink" - it would be impossible to dismiss us as a marginal, twisted, lurkingly dangerous sub-culture.

I feel like I'm pretty out. I've lost my marriage over my kink, most friends who really know me, at least know I like my women dommy, and in the Scene if you know my first name and what I do for a living, which is most everyone I know; you can immediately find my law firm's website.

But I'm not really out in the way Stephen Elliot is or in the way it takes to force political change. I'm afraid that lawyers who refer me business would stop and I'd starve. Judges and prosecutors I fret, would look at me differently. I'm terrified that clients, who want a tough guy trial lawyer, would not understand I'm a fearless knight for my Queen, but would scoff that I'm a wimpy, sniveling milquetoast. Which, of course I am - but only if she demands it.

Writing is a powerful tool. I've toyed with trying to write a fictional account of my relationship with She-Who-Visits and getting it pubished in my own name. Of course it would be a smash best seller, and like Elliot's "Adderall Diaries", a famous actor would buy it, want to play me, and I'd become a legend in more than just my own mind.

Stephen Elliot says "My Girlfriend" is "not a memoir, but it's damn close. And I'm OK with that. And I'm okay with you knowing that."

I wonder - would I be okay with my whole world knowing that?

I'm On The Right Track Baby

Oh where does the time go? Just haven't been focusing on cranking out the old blog posts. However, that doesn't mean there hasn't been a lot going on.

Not that I'm way into corporal, but I did happen to read an awfully fun book on the subject by the mysterious Gemma Forbes. It's called "The Adult Spanking and Discipline Handbook: A Comprehensive Guide To Corporal Punishment."
Gemma seems smart, funny, and big-time experienced at percussion play. Check it out.

In other news, Retired Domme, who became my trusted paralegal and one of my favorite employees of all time left this week to go on with the next phase of her life. I took her and the rest of my staff to a rubber chicken lawyer dinner earlier this week. She's so comfortable and relaxed she can talk to anyone. I secretly wondered if any of my fellow suits would recognize her. Prodommes and lawyers are like peanut butter and jelly. They just go together. But I did wonder what being recognized might be like for her. I will miss her greatly, but look forward to keeping in touch and being friends.

She-Who-Visits urged me to try to break my personal best of 82 straight days of on-my-honor chastity. She asked me to go for triple digits and make 100 days. But in a bold move of personal defiance I just can't do it. Actually, I'm pretty sure she'll understand. In these times of personal challenge, stress, loss, and intense change, rubbing one out just takes the edge off. Plus, She is a total absentee keyholder. Though she's good at keeping in touch, it really would be more like just doing it on my own. I'm looking for a kink connection closer to my zip code.

Which brings me to my latest OKCupid escapade. I went out with a woman who used the our-tribe-term "D/s" in her profile. Because of our respective schedules there was some lag time between our initial contact on-line and our date. We chatted on the phone a couple of times as well. Truth be told, I was pretty sure there wouldn't be a connection but was so intrigued that I couldn't resist a meet up. You just never know.

While her profile said domme, the personality questions all said submissive. And in one of our phone chats she said she'd gotten divorced and then recently spent about eight months in a romantic relationship with a dominant man. She said she was very inexperienced, but that he was an old hand and while they did not explore the vibrant NYC Scene, they scened a lot at home. She assured me she was drawn to both roles and really saw herself as a switch.

She was jazzed to be my perfect domme. Hmmm...sounds sort of subbie, doesn't it?

I've said before that I have nothing against switching. I have good friends who switch. But I'm just not wired that way. She-Who-Visits once said, "It's a team sport. Pick a side!" I'm totally with her. On the other team.

So anyway, my date was hyped and enthused. She went on in emails about buying play clothes and boots. She wanted me to amass a portfolio of pictures that showed what turned me on. She waxed eloquently about how I'd gift her with my submission and she'd mold me to be more than I had ever dreamed.

Oh my...

For my part, I unwisely fed the fire by writing a couple of lenthy emails about that which floats my boat. The cautionary tale of Anthony Weiner aside, this experience has taught me that it's just not a good idea. From now on my dates will have to earn the trust necessary to really know what makes me hum. I probably egged her on, even though she'd asked to know.

We met at a French bistro with a lovely little outdoor garden on the Upper East Side near her apartment. Within forty minutes of our rendez-vous we had eaten and were back at her place. This, I confess, is a first for me. It will stand as my personal best of meet to make out time.

She had a very nicely decorated tiny little rent controlled hideaway so far over that I was tempted to try to throw a rock into the East River. We were literally, figuratively, and metaphorically at opposite ends of the island.

We sat on her sofa and as she suggestively rubbed the back of my neck with her finely manicured hands, she asked me what I wanted from her.

Were we having a "relationship talk" within less than an hour of meeting?

I mumbled something about not really looking for anything serious since I was tending to my dying wife, but if something happened - I'm open. She emphatically stated that she was really only interested in a relationship because she had plenty of playmates.

Then we started making out. I could be very graphic as I have a modicum of pride in my descriptive writing talent. But I won't. I told her about the blog and she may read this. The hot and sweaty breathlessness of it all was pretty exhilarating at first. But what I found was a woman trying very hard to please me. Most guys would love that. But I'm a submissive and I want to please her. She'll revel in my effort. She'll direct it, command it and often deny it. Her control will please me. But she'll control. Not try to please.

She was swept away by the Hell's Gate current of her submissive nature trying to domme me and I was ebbing on a Hudson River back flow. By 9:30 I made excuses about my dog and left. She's really an attractive, lovely, smart, genuinely nice woman. I just didn't feel the domme.

And while the search continues I know one thing: I'm on the right track baby I was born this way.