Sleazy Covert Nazi Fetishist Lied to Me!

       I just had a session with a Nazi fetishist, and now I feel gross.

       Of course, he didn’t say that he was a Nazi fetishist.  He said that he was a military fetishist, which immediately got my wind up, because at least half the time the guys who want a “military fetish session” eventually spring the Nazi bullshit on me halfway through, which is exactly what happened this afternoon.

       They lie about what they want because they’re embarrassed and they know that it’s a politically loaded fetish to have.  I understand why they’re embarrassed.  Maybe they should be embarrassed about it.  Readers of this blog will know that I’m just about the most non-judgmental person, when it comes to kink, that you can find. I don’t enjoy shaming people.  Really, I don’t.  But there are a few fetishes that I do, in fact, find personally offensive, and Nazi roleplay is one of them, and that is why I don’t do it.

        These “military fetish” guys come in, and of course they all gravitate towards me because I’m tall and look like Heidi the Milkmaid, and I look at them slant-eyed from the get-go because I know where this is probably going to go.  

         “Military, huh?  What kind of military are we talking about here?”

           Because nobody ever wants to be dominated by a member of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade or some fucking member of the UN Peacekeeping Force.  Like, if you want an asshole military commando, can I at least be, I dunno, US Military in Granada?  I could fake that without hating myself.  But noooooooo, a small percentage want me to pretend to be some sort of Fascist, and the majority of them the #1 genocidal retards of the 20th Century.

       (If memory serves, the first time I ever reprimanded a client in consultation was when he pulled out a Swastika armband and asked me if I’d wear it.  I just stared at him and then said:

        “I’m not going to wear that shit on my arm.”)

         I know you can make the argument that it’s just pretend (thank God), and I’ve pretended to be Stasi before (once) and they were not exactly champions of democracy and human rights, so what’s the big deal?  But I just can’t do it, dude.  It makes my skin crawl. 

       “Let’s be clear.  This isn’t going to have anything to do with concentration campus or She-Wolf Ilse, is it?” I ask.

         No, no, the “military fetishist” says, and then, halfway through the session, I get a bait-and-switch and this vile talk starts coming out of his mouth and I start feeling sick to my stomach.  You know what it makes me feel like?  It makes me feel like a disgrace and I hate feeling like I’m prostituting the most shameful part of my cultural heritage in this stupid dungeon for, what, $90?  Yeah, keeping it classy, Mistress Margo.

        And then I also think–which NEVER happens at my secret job, NEVER–what if my family saw me doing this?  

        (I know that it sounds like I’m talking about me me me and alllll myyyyy feeeeeeelz about why I find this offensive, but FWIW, believe me, I’m getting lots of flashbacks to black-and-white photographs of corpse piles at the same time.  I started studying the history at age 12.  My father made me.)

         And it’s all the stupid client’s fault, because he lied to get me to do it. This blog post is horribly disorganized and probably not worthy of publication, but I’m going to post it because THAT IS THE MORAL OF THE STORY, CLIENTS: DON’T LIE ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT.

6 thoughts on “Sleazy Covert Nazi Fetishist Lied to Me!”

  1. Remember when you poured water on the dungeon slave and put him outside in cold weather? Got any more stories like that? Because that was wicked dominant. Is that guy still coming around?

    The Nazi thing? I’m with you. Some places you just don’t go.

  2. Dear Miss Margo,

    I remember an old post about a client who wanted to do an American South slave role play with an African American woman. I think the punch line was ‘oppression olympics.’ I loved that post. I just wish that every situation where some clown with $250 pushed you to cross a line had such a satisfying conclusion.

    I do think that domination by a Mistress from the Abraham Lincoln Brigade could become a specialty. Whipping until the sub denounces Franco, gives up Nationalist troop positions. Forced marches around the room singing ‘The Internationale.’ Rigorous self-criticism of petty-bourgeois errors. Could be fun.


    1. Hi John!

      The blog post to which your refer is this one:

      Tat incident wouldn’t have been so bad if the bad client, Jack, had told her that he wanted prebellum slave roleplay in consultation, and she agreed to it, but noooooo, he just sprang that bullshit on her to be mean during the session. Her quip about Auschwitz was mean, too, but at least he deserved it (I guess).

      The Spanish Civil War roleplay idea is hilarious.

      Thanks for reading!

    1. Thanks for the support! xoxo

      Boundaries-pushers are the worst part of the job. Even worse than getting up close and personal with the random client who has severe personality disorders or who is obviously re-enacting trauma or childhood abuse. I was molested just the other day–a jerk touched me between my legs when my back was turned. I threatened to call the cops and raped his wallet for a “You-Fucked-Up Tax,” which is at least more than I can do when guys touch me on the subway.

      It makes me so angry when strange men fondle or grope me. It doesn’t happen to me nearly as often as it does to my friends who are short/petite, but it still happens a few times a year. I screamed at the last guy who did that to me on the street, but he just smiled.

  3. I understand why you would not want to do that, and at the same time I kind of understand the guys who want you to… hmm that makes me feel a bit disgusting.

    I´ve been reading your blog for a while, and this is my first comment. So hi 🙂 You are a great writer (and I wish I could be a great commenter but english is not my language). Thanks for a great blog and this blog post was defenitly worthy of publication, as every post on this blog is! /Jess

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