Control Tower
WHY ME?
by Mistress Matisse
Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Um, Mistress Matisse? I had a question.
Me: Okay, go ahead.
Caller: So, I'm from out of town, but I saw a mistress once, and she said I needed to be broken. Can you break me?
Sometimes I want to simply say 'yes' to questions like this, because I know this conversation isn't going to go well. But my Responsible BDSM Educator persona takes over…
Me: "Break you"--that's a rather vague term. What exactly does that mean to you?
Caller: I don't know.
Me: You're asking me to do something to you, when you don't even know what it means?
Caller: It's what this other mistress said I needed.
Me: Look, "breaking you" means doing an SM scene where I really push your physical limits, and it implies you'll have some kind of emotional catharsis as a result. But I'm not going to do a session with you based on another person's opinion. If you come see me, I'll decide what to do with you.
Caller: But it's what she said I needed.
Me: Then why are you calling me? Why don't you go back and see her?
Caller: Well, I don't think she was that good of a mistress.
The stunning illogic of this leaves me speechless. This, I think, will be the dumb-ass phone call of the day.
Turns out I'm wrong.
Ring ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Yeah, I just wanna know: How tough are you, really?
I always appreciate it when people let me know right off the bat that they're assholes.
Me (in my best frosty-bitch tone): Excuse me, what did you just say to me?
Caller: Hey, you know, I'm looking for a really tough mistress, you know, 'cause I'm a tough guy. I've seen your pictures, and you don't look so tough.
I don't say anything. Instead, I just let the obvious response--Then why the hell did you call me?--hang unspoken between us. The silent treatment often works best with the obnoxious types. They get a little nervous and keep on talking, and some of the bluster drains out of them. Sure enough, after about 10 seconds of dead air, I hear the verbal equivalent of foot-shuffling on the other end of the line.
Caller (in a less challenging voice): Yeah, so--I was wondering, you know, how extreme you'd get.
Me: Seeing as there is no National Standard of Weights and Measures for extremeness in BDSM scenes, that's a difficult question to answer. You need to tell me exactly what you're looking for, and I'll tell you if it's something I do.
Caller: I don't want you to say you're into this if you really aren't.
Me: Trust me, dear boy, I don't do anything I don't like to do. Out with it.
Caller: A lot of people think it's kinda freaky.
Me (heavy sigh): Just tell me what it is.
Caller: Um, needles.
Me: Needles? Like, as in piercing? That's it? That's what you think is so extreme?
Caller: Yeah. Do you… do that?
Me: Oh, yeah--it's one of my favorites; I've been doing it for years.
Caller: You don't think it's sort of… going too far?
Me: No, I really enjoy it, I think it's great. So, do you want to talk about an appointment?
Caller (after a pause): Uh, I don't know. If you're like really into the needle thing… I'm not sure I should see you.
Me: But that's what you said you were looking for.
Caller: Yeah, but I think you might be a little too into it.
I see--he doesn't want me to not like his kink, but he doesn't want me to like it, either. I realize I am helpless in the face of such absurdity, and thus, I do the only thing I can do.
Click.
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