Getting back to what’s important…
But seriously, I had some feedback on an entry I posted, and miracle of miracles, I also managed to respond to it there. I was ranting in that post that I am annoyed by “submissives” who think that they know what I want based solely on the fact that I am dominant.
I have been contacted online by many of the guys on whom I base this judgment. Most would prefer a realtime mistress, given the option.
Yes, “the list”. As I wrote before, a “submissive” may come with a list of things that he is expecting his Mistress to do to him, and he expects she will ask nothing in return as she is doing these things for the sheer pleasure of doing verbal humiliation, rope bondage, cbt, administering sadistic beatings, etc.
When asked what he can do to serve her, he reads off the list again.
I’ll give you an example that clearly illustrates this. A couple of summers back I was working full-time at job that paid part-time, not covering my expenses, and desperately waiting for the summer to be over so I could return to solvency when my regular jobs would start up again. My cat had a major health emergency, which resulted in big credit card bills. In a paltalk chatroom met a guy – a doctor, no less, and I have no doubt about this – who said he was moving to my area and looking for a Mistress. At first the situation appeared ideal, as we seemed to have some of that intellectual compatibility that I’ve mentioned I feel is important. But as we got deeper into discussion, things got much more complicated.
He told me in passing that he earned $300,000 a year, so I was of course thinking, this guy can afford to contribute to my support, what with me and my simple tastes. Why, I wouldn’t have to work three jobs anymore! But then it turned out that deep down he needed to know that in any relationship with a woman, there was no cash flow. Otherwise he would be feeling like he was paying a prostitute. He needed to have her do these things on the list for free so he would know she cared about him.
Back to the list. What he was expecting was for me to be around whenever he was at his home, providing extreme verbal humiliation, bondage, cbt, flogging, whipping… And fetishes, of course. He had numerous fetishes to feed. Long hair fetish. Foot fetish. Thong fetish. What he wanted to right now was to spend endless hours surfing lingerie sites together. You know the type of site, where the women look like Barbie dolls and are wearing scanties that are too much like a costume to function as real underwear.
The list was daunting. It sounded like it would be physically exhausting for a women in the best of shape with an extremely high energy level to do all these things. Me? I was working three jobs and never home. So I’d have to keep working three jobs for the privilege of doing all this stuff? All he had to do in exchange was to give me an occasional foot massage?
And then there was the phone sex thing. Like many guys I have just met online and barely know, he found the idea of listening in on my calls to be exciting, while to me it could only feel like a creepy invasion of my privacy. Not to mention the fact that a lot of guys who think they are kinky would be shocked by some of the things I hear, but that’s a different story.
As long as I was picturing the list as a list of “services I could provide”, it was at least thinkable. But it didn’t stop there. Things started getting weirder and weirder.
He wanted to get a metal cock ring engraved with my name and plan a collaring ceremony in six months’ time.
He started talking about meeting when he came up this way for an interview. I was willing to meet just for a date, but he was looking for three full days of my time. I made excuses. I have to work. So he told me he would come to my house and massage my feet while listening in to my calls. There is something very wrong with this picture. You are rich, and I have to work around the clock to survive, so you can hang around the house and get off listening to my clients’ calls? Not.
Then he asked me how I feel about kids. Ew.
Finally he asked me to send him one of my “thongs”. (Like I wear ass floss. Right.) I suggested he make a generous donation ($25) to cover the cost of the purchase and shipping, or he could have some lingerie sent to me. No, he wanted my own, and he thought he shouldn’t have to reimburse me, even though I couldn’t afford to replace them on my budget. I balked, and he said he’d send me $2 to cover the shipping.
That was it. I just told him that the relationship was something I could not afford. I was not meeting my expenses now, and there was no way I could cover the extra costs of being a doctor’s girlfriend or Mistress, nor could I afford to take time off from work to do these things, even if I wanted to.
He was absolutely shocked, not just that I would reject him, a “nice person”, but that someone could be so strapped for cash that they would pass up this offer. Being that poor was unimaginable to him, my not having a eight hours a day of free time to spend on him or a few thousand here and there to use for my expenses was just out of his experience.
Later he did some soul-searching. It turned out he didn’t move to my area (nothing to do with this incident). But he did occasionally contact me online to try to convince me that he had changed. At one point he even tried to talk me into letting him fly here and stay with me for a weekend, saying that he was a “nice person”. Dearest Reader: does it make you feel more or less confident when some creepy person says this to you?
Then he told me he was moving to a nearby city for a work assignment that might or might not be permanent. I agreed to meet him there on my original terms: a “date” in a restaurant. But oh, no, that wouldn’t work. With his schedule I would need to come down too late to catch the last train back, so I would have to stay. At his place. And no restaurant, he would cook.
Then, the kicker. The straw that broke the camel’s back. He told me, “I will please you.” Whoo, I flipped out. I thought we were going to start this as two normal people who happened to meet online going out on a date. But somehow we got sucked back into the BDSM/sex/commitment thing.
I guess he was pretty mad at me. He hasn’t contacted me again. That works for me. Those red flags just never stopped coming.