Reader Mailbag

“Who are Jim and Peter?  Did the Surgeon know about them?”
                                                      –random internet stranger

   Jim and Peter were two guys I met off of craigslist.  I hit the jackpot with those two.  Really fun, respectful, attractive men.  Prior to Abduction Weekend, it was the only time I’d been with two men.  If any women are reading this, I highly recommend tying the experience at least once before you die.  It doesn’t get much more fun.  

The Surgeon did not know.  We were not monogamous, but when I dated around I was always very discreet about it, and I always gave the Surgeon priority.  If he wanted to know who I was seeing, I’d tell him. He was tolerant as long as I didn’t get emotionally attached to anyone else.  

“Have you ever shot porn?  Would you like to?”
                                             –random internet stranger

Are you offering me a job?  

Interestingly, I took offense at this question, which makes me a huge hypocrite.  I guess I ought to think about that.

No, I’ve never shot porn and I do not intend to do so.  That said, I spent a few years being a drunken slut in New York City.  I had a few hookups that I would not have had sober.  Since every woman I’ve ever talked to about this has been filmed or photographed without her consent, there is no doubt in my mind that naked photos of me exist on some douchebag’s hard drive.  I let an ex boyfriend take topless photos of me once.  Before I broke up with him, I stole them back, along with the film negatives, because while he was a decent person, I know how men are.  

I cannot for the life of me understand the allure of 95% of most porn to women.  If you’re willing to get paid for sex, you could just escort and keep your privacy.  Porn seems like a hell of a lot of work and frankly the industry is disgusting.

I do like James Mogul’s work.  There’s nothing like it.  He’s an amazing Top. I would offer to serve him in a heartbeat, but there’s no way I could do it without destroying my life.  I must be content myself with living vicariously through the other lucky girls. 

Oh…my vadge has been published in a prominent medical journal.  It was a pretty epic hoax.  My therapist found it to be appalling, but I still think it’s funny as hell.  I’ll let you speculate on how it got there.   

“What does your apartment look like?  What neighborhood are you in?”
                                  –Creepy Internet Stranger

What a nice place for a cage! But how frustrating to not be able to reach the books.
I am not the model, lol

   I’m close to Tompkins Square Park.  I LOVE my neighborhood. 
“Were you abused as a child?”
                           –Creepy Internet Stranger

      Normally I wouldn’t answer this question because it’s nobody’s business whether I was or not.  But since I invited the questions, I’ll tell you.  The answer is yes, and there is no doubt in my mind that it made me kinky.  I cannot speak for other pervs.  YMMV.  

      My parents were both controlling and critical, with very distorted boundaries.  My mother is a productive citizen.  My father is pretty fucked up and I’m sure that he’d be serving life in a Supermax somewhere if he was slightly less intelligent.  He still might get there someday.  

       I was not molested, however, which is probably what you infer by “abuse.”  

“Have you ever hurt someone when you screwed up at work?”

      Actually, I’ve hurt my students feelings a few times by being a sarcastic, insensitive asshole.  I’ve said something cutting to them on a handful of occasions, and I’ll never forgive myself for it.  Other grad students/colleagues are fair game in an intellectual argument–I live for that blood sport–but it is never acceptable for a teacher to mock or humiliate a student.  

       If you mean at my secret job: no.  I minimize the potential for injury but not doing dangerous things or things that I don’t know how to do.  The only thing that gets hurt when I fuck up is my dignity.  For instance, hitting my head on a bondage table as I’m crawling around it in the dark trying to tie up a guy.  WHACK, slamming my noggin on the wood.  Yeah, domme FAIL.  The worst part is when the guy winces and asks me if I’m okay.  

     Another one is tying his hands together before I get his shirt off.  Then I gotta go back and untie him to get his t-shirt off and he’s looking like Cornholio, lol.

       I also found an awesome photo.  Wow, I wish that was me.  My dating life really sucked this summer, and this little walk down memory lane just served to remind me of all the action I haven’t been getting.  Nobody to blame but myself, though.

13 thoughts on “Reader Mailbag”

  1. Yeah, it is hard to be sympathetic to the plight of the beautiful prodomme living in Manhattan. Especially when she has a thing for unavailable older horny guys

    Theodds are not exactly stacked against you

  2. The odds for what? Interesting (re: dismal to excellent) casual sex are there if she wants to pursue it.

    But if she wants a partner…no man is going to put up with her working in a dungeon. How do you propose that she date…? Lie her ass off about what she does three days a week? Good foundation for a meaningful relationship, yes?

  3. If by partner, you mean a faithful monogamous relationship with a possibility for a family, I agree

    However, your complaint here was related to sexploits with partners that did not fit that description. And “pursue” is not a fit verb for the reality. “Allow”would be closer to the truth, no.
    Scooping the fishes around you

    You had a nice post recently on your choice: either the business, or the possibility of a partner. Everyday in the business is one more day where the first option is preferred to the second.

  4. Dear Miss Margo,

    I think that accidental injuries are pretty rare in the business. I was accidentally hurt just once. I was tied at the ankles and knees with my hands tied behind my back. I was told to get up from the floor onto the bondage table. I was almost upright when I toppled over banging the table and hitting the floor. My shoulder was scraped and I had bruises on the shoulder and upper arm. What impresses me now, is that the domme never broke character. She acted all put out and picked me up, while calling me a clumsy oaf. She placed me on the table herself. She had real presence of mind.


    PS: Nice pictures.

    1. She could pick you up? She must have been strong! But now that I think of it, some of the women at the Studio lift and carry men all the time…

      I hurt myself falling down in metal handcuffs once. Metal is sexy but I’m very wary of it because it has no give.

      There is a story in the lore of my Studio that (get out your barf bags, sorry) a man’s testicle came out of his scrotum once. I am skeptical, because while everyone knows this story, I’ve never heard it from someone who was actually THERE. I think it’s a urban legend (dungeon legend?) type of deal.

      Thanks re: photos. I found em on the petgirls tumblr.

  5. Believe me, my friend, I am acutely aware of the passage of time.

    Aren’t you…?

    My analyst just offered me 50% off therapy sessions on the contingency that I quit at the Studio. That really says something. I also think it’s hilarious, it a black humor sort of way.

    And yes, scooping the fishies…you remember that metaphor! But sometimes dropping the net into the water is soooo much work. lol lol

    What about you? Any opportunity for debauchery?

  6. I did not think that the concept of time was lost on you.

    I feel time. I cannot believe that Halloween of 2009 was almost four years ago.

    Since crossing the border for good, I have been a perfect mate. Had a few opportunities

  7. I liked the entry about Jim and peter. For a future reader mailbag, any chance we might hear from the special experience in Boston with the (even then awful) surgeon? At least one of your reader is in something else then cropping

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