...and start it back up for you at no extra cost.
I spotted this news article about Swiss girls adding a new special feature to their bordellos:defibrillators!
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/7259636/Swiss-prostitutes-trained-to-use-defibrillators-in-brothels-to-prevent-clients-dying.html
It seems that due to a high number of elderly client deaths, the girls in the area of Lugano are now installing defibrillators and being trained in their use. Prostitution is legal in Switzerland, so I guess life-saving techniques are a fringe benefit of that. Makes me wonder what else would change if the business were completely legal....
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Naughty, Dirty Sex
"Oh, you're so dirty....such a bad girl."
The words are always spoken with a certain relish, desire and approval and I agree earnestly, arching my back to take another smack to my already cherry-red ass. Yes, I say, punish me. I've been so bad. That's how some like their girls: Dirty. And I happily oblige.
It probably goes back to our Puritanical roots, but our culture has this strange love-hate relationship with sex. Sex, in general, is dirty and the stranger it is, the dirtier it becomes. And (especially) girls who partake of such activities are bad.
Well, I confess...I don't really get it. In the moment, his hand in my hair, cock deep in my ass, I get it and the words don't matter so much as the feelings evoked in our voice and moans... but when I'm off duty, the words catch me off guard.
I've always felt sex was natural; our bodies our birthed from it, and we are built to feel pleasure in it. How can it be wrong? But then, I've never subscribed to conservative moral standards. I am bisexual, polyamorous and submissive. My sexuality dwells in the shadows, but it's always felt right for me.
The words are always spoken with a certain relish, desire and approval and I agree earnestly, arching my back to take another smack to my already cherry-red ass. Yes, I say, punish me. I've been so bad. That's how some like their girls: Dirty. And I happily oblige.
It probably goes back to our Puritanical roots, but our culture has this strange love-hate relationship with sex. Sex, in general, is dirty and the stranger it is, the dirtier it becomes. And (especially) girls who partake of such activities are bad.
Well, I confess...I don't really get it. In the moment, his hand in my hair, cock deep in my ass, I get it and the words don't matter so much as the feelings evoked in our voice and moans... but when I'm off duty, the words catch me off guard.
I've always felt sex was natural; our bodies our birthed from it, and we are built to feel pleasure in it. How can it be wrong? But then, I've never subscribed to conservative moral standards. I am bisexual, polyamorous and submissive. My sexuality dwells in the shadows, but it's always felt right for me.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Are "Personas" Masks?
I did my research before starting this venture, and read a lot about creating personas, reminded me of theater or roleplaying. I enjoy my share of roleplay (Professor/student is my favorite!) but when it has come to creating a "provider persona," I hesitate because I don't to sound hollow or fake. And when it comes to this blog, I think this has prevented me from writing as much as I set out to.
Much of this is the struggle to be genuine, but not reveal too much. I want to be real, but not go into nitty-gritty details that would shatter the fantasy--and I want to acknowledge the role fantasy plays in this job, without becoming fake. The trick is to find that balance, to pull fantasy into reality, blur the lines in a pleasing way.
Of course, many parts of my life are simply off-topic to this blog (like my love of cooking!) and would just clutter up the site. I go off tangent enough and I want to stick to the juicy stuff. I acknowledge that this is a character-changing journey I am on, and an opportunity to catalyze change into a person of my own chosing rather than the circumstances around me.
But back to personas....
In many ways, the word "persona" reads "mask," something about the word says false, or at least, glossed-over. But a person may wear many masks--we have our public face, our private self, and every role we play, every label we take on. And we are all of them combined. We our actions and emotions, our bodies and minds and the words we speak. Now, I may be getting too philosophical for this blog... but what can I do?
I suppose I shouldn't worry too much about being fake--I am an excellent storyteller, but I can't live a lie.
Much of this is the struggle to be genuine, but not reveal too much. I want to be real, but not go into nitty-gritty details that would shatter the fantasy--and I want to acknowledge the role fantasy plays in this job, without becoming fake. The trick is to find that balance, to pull fantasy into reality, blur the lines in a pleasing way.
Of course, many parts of my life are simply off-topic to this blog (like my love of cooking!) and would just clutter up the site. I go off tangent enough and I want to stick to the juicy stuff. I acknowledge that this is a character-changing journey I am on, and an opportunity to catalyze change into a person of my own chosing rather than the circumstances around me.
But back to personas....
In many ways, the word "persona" reads "mask," something about the word says false, or at least, glossed-over. But a person may wear many masks--we have our public face, our private self, and every role we play, every label we take on. And we are all of them combined. We our actions and emotions, our bodies and minds and the words we speak. Now, I may be getting too philosophical for this blog... but what can I do?
I suppose I shouldn't worry too much about being fake--I am an excellent storyteller, but I can't live a lie.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
a week of birthdays or sushi for 4
My birthday falls the last week of January, and I had the means and reason for celebration, which had been planned for the weekend but rippled out over the whole week. Most of the time, this is Superbowl time, and my birthday is shared with lots of grunting men and watching tight asses...so I can't complain. For the first time in a while I didn't worry about making my budget.
Sushi is one of my favorites and so I had sushi for my birthday. Two big trays of sushi for four of us. So many varieties, I'd be hard-pressed to name them all--salmon, yellow tail, tuna, teriyaki rolls. Of course, some californias. My very favorite are the spider rolls--soft shelled crab. And bbq'd eel. We did not go hungry that night! We took on those trays like champions and it was well worth the wait until my birthday.
I have seen precious few clients so far, so I daresay I am still in the "honeymoon phase" of this, but I have to confess.... it's everything I dreamed it would be. I hope it lasts. Thank you, gentlemen, each of you, for wonderful afternoons, worry-free encounters and mutual bliss. I could not ask for more. Thank you also, to all my readers, who inspire me to keep this blog.
February is a whole new month to look forward to.
Sushi is one of my favorites and so I had sushi for my birthday. Two big trays of sushi for four of us. So many varieties, I'd be hard-pressed to name them all--salmon, yellow tail, tuna, teriyaki rolls. Of course, some californias. My very favorite are the spider rolls--soft shelled crab. And bbq'd eel. We did not go hungry that night! We took on those trays like champions and it was well worth the wait until my birthday.
I have seen precious few clients so far, so I daresay I am still in the "honeymoon phase" of this, but I have to confess.... it's everything I dreamed it would be. I hope it lasts. Thank you, gentlemen, each of you, for wonderful afternoons, worry-free encounters and mutual bliss. I could not ask for more. Thank you also, to all my readers, who inspire me to keep this blog.
February is a whole new month to look forward to.
Monday, January 25, 2010
My First Time
It was one summer during college. To be honest, I don't remember which summer; during school years and college years, the summers were always a strange in between time that held little order or purpose. This particular summer, after chatting with a fellow on the internet, decided to meet. Hardly professional, but then, I didn't see it as prostitution at all.
We met at a hotel so he could take pictures. We fooled around a little after that and received the digital camera for the afternoon. He never did ask for copies of the pictures. I think he just had fun taking them. I had fun posing, and fun fooling around after that. And I enjoyed the camera for years after that. It was really only after the fact that I realized our little trade may have been ooo...sinful.
It never felt wrong. In fact, it felt pretty right. Models get paid...what....thousands to post and act sexy? Was there the expectation of sex? I don't know, because I never denied him. I wanted it just as much as he did. So it's hard to say really if he thought he was giving his camera for sex or not. Would he have argued or whined if I'd stuck to only posing?
In the end, it didn't matter to me what his intentions were. I knew my own intentions. And there was nothing more satisfying than seeing the relaxed smile on his face after blowing his load--even the camera. Had I been able to take a picture, I might have. But like him, I didn't really need a copy. The memory, the experience was more than enough.
We met at a hotel so he could take pictures. We fooled around a little after that and received the digital camera for the afternoon. He never did ask for copies of the pictures. I think he just had fun taking them. I had fun posing, and fun fooling around after that. And I enjoyed the camera for years after that. It was really only after the fact that I realized our little trade may have been ooo...sinful.
It never felt wrong. In fact, it felt pretty right. Models get paid...what....thousands to post and act sexy? Was there the expectation of sex? I don't know, because I never denied him. I wanted it just as much as he did. So it's hard to say really if he thought he was giving his camera for sex or not. Would he have argued or whined if I'd stuck to only posing?
In the end, it didn't matter to me what his intentions were. I knew my own intentions. And there was nothing more satisfying than seeing the relaxed smile on his face after blowing his load--even the camera. Had I been able to take a picture, I might have. But like him, I didn't really need a copy. The memory, the experience was more than enough.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Rules and Limits for Fetish
Are you are interested in exploring the edges of sexuality? I am quite adventurous, non-judgmental and all too happy to serve you in this manner. Please take a moment to learn about my favorite kinky activities (and those I cannot perform) to see if we are a good match.
I enjoy many aspects from the submissive side of BDSM both personally and professionally, and pride myself in my eager service to novice and veteran alike. Some of my favorites include:
Humiliation: face slapping, hairpulling, verbal abuse, objectification
Sadomasochism: wartenburg wheels, floggers and wax—oh my!
Sensory play
Slave & Slut training
Fetish exploration: Feet/heels, cross-dressing, toys, food, male penetration
Menstrual play (this one requires a bit of advanced planning!)
Ass play , spanking and enema play
Tickle torture
Domestic discipline
Roleplaying: sexy librarian, naughty student, temple harlot, captive maiden, hostage and more
My Safeword and Limits
While I'd hate to interrupt a scene, I do occasionally need a breather. For such times, I employ the safeword RED to signal a pause. This safeword is for both of us to use and must be honored by both parties. Don't worry, in most cases it just means a readjustment or pause before we can continue.
For the health and safety of myself and all my dear friends, I must limit myself and abstain from certain activities. I do love to try new things, and so my list is short, but non-negotiable.
I do not offer uncovered services. Toys, for ease of cleaning, must also be covered.
I am not blindfolded.
I do not engage in golden showers, scat, blood or breath play.
I am not struck near any internal organs, or my eyes.
I am not kicked, trampled or choked.
I do not play with violet wands. (I much prefer wands made of flesh!)
Also, as a general consideration, I ask that you write to me in the manner befitting a gentleman and not go into graphic detail in your e-mails. There will be time enough for brazen talk in private.
I enjoy many aspects from the submissive side of BDSM both personally and professionally, and pride myself in my eager service to novice and veteran alike. Some of my favorites include:
Humiliation: face slapping, hairpulling, verbal abuse, objectification
Sadomasochism: wartenburg wheels, floggers and wax—oh my!
Sensory play
Slave & Slut training
Fetish exploration: Feet/heels, cross-dressing, toys, food, male penetration
Menstrual play (this one requires a bit of advanced planning!)
Ass play , spanking and enema play
Tickle torture
Domestic discipline
Roleplaying: sexy librarian, naughty student, temple harlot, captive maiden, hostage and more
My Safeword and Limits
While I'd hate to interrupt a scene, I do occasionally need a breather. For such times, I employ the safeword RED to signal a pause. This safeword is for both of us to use and must be honored by both parties. Don't worry, in most cases it just means a readjustment or pause before we can continue.
For the health and safety of myself and all my dear friends, I must limit myself and abstain from certain activities. I do love to try new things, and so my list is short, but non-negotiable.
I do not offer uncovered services. Toys, for ease of cleaning, must also be covered.
I am not blindfolded.
I do not engage in golden showers, scat, blood or breath play.
I am not struck near any internal organs, or my eyes.
I am not kicked, trampled or choked.
I do not play with violet wands. (I much prefer wands made of flesh!)
Also, as a general consideration, I ask that you write to me in the manner befitting a gentleman and not go into graphic detail in your e-mails. There will be time enough for brazen talk in private.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
A Whore's Place-in Myth, pt1
One of my favorite myths is the epic of Gilgamesh, for within it is a glimpse of ancient sexuality, and gives a most ennobling roles to my vocational ancestor--the temple harlot. The story is set in Ancient Mesopotamia (modern day Iraq), and follows King Gilgamesh of Uruk and his friend, Enkidu.
In the story, King Gilgamesh is told a wild man living outside the walls of the city. He is hairy, unclothed, unwashed. So uncivilized is he that the animals are not bothered by his presence; he is able to graze with the antelope and hunt with the lions. But Gilgamesh knows what to do--he pulls aside a temple prostitute, Shamhat, and tells her his plan. She is a priestess of Ishtar, an earthly embodiment of the Goddess' love of man and creative passions. When the wild man sees her, he is entranced--he feels the recognition of his own species and is easily seduced by the priestess' gentle touch and soothing voice.
After their lovemaking, the man is forever changed--the animals are spooked by his scent. The hair on his body begins to thin so Shamhat clothes him and keeps him warm, showering him with affection. It is she who first civilizes him and brings him to the city to live with other humans.
...the wild man, Enkidu, goes on to become the King's most trusted friend. The harlot's brief but vital role is glossed over in many versions, and in some translations she is called a temple singer to make it more "family friendly", but it does reveal the sacred roots of the world's oldest profession. It is woman--not man--responsible for soothing humans' wild tendencies. It is she who pulls out the animal in him, gives him a safe place to express it, and allows his higher consciousness to take full reign.
It also reminds me of another myth.....but I will save that for another post.
In the story, King Gilgamesh is told a wild man living outside the walls of the city. He is hairy, unclothed, unwashed. So uncivilized is he that the animals are not bothered by his presence; he is able to graze with the antelope and hunt with the lions. But Gilgamesh knows what to do--he pulls aside a temple prostitute, Shamhat, and tells her his plan. She is a priestess of Ishtar, an earthly embodiment of the Goddess' love of man and creative passions. When the wild man sees her, he is entranced--he feels the recognition of his own species and is easily seduced by the priestess' gentle touch and soothing voice.
After their lovemaking, the man is forever changed--the animals are spooked by his scent. The hair on his body begins to thin so Shamhat clothes him and keeps him warm, showering him with affection. It is she who first civilizes him and brings him to the city to live with other humans.
...the wild man, Enkidu, goes on to become the King's most trusted friend. The harlot's brief but vital role is glossed over in many versions, and in some translations she is called a temple singer to make it more "family friendly", but it does reveal the sacred roots of the world's oldest profession. It is woman--not man--responsible for soothing humans' wild tendencies. It is she who pulls out the animal in him, gives him a safe place to express it, and allows his higher consciousness to take full reign.
It also reminds me of another myth.....but I will save that for another post.
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