What up, bitches. In order for you to really grasp my perspective and point of view, I have blessed you with an audio, read-a-long version of this column so that you may fully comprehend the nuances and inflections that I am trying to deliver. Eat it up, you little whores.
For this week’s dose of domme entertainment, I want you to really stretch your imagination. But before we begin any yoga of the mind, I want to give you a preemptive warning.. which is redundant. For those of you following me on twitter and my sweet devoted bitches, you know I’ve been sick. (And again, need I repeat myself? If you are not following me on twitter, go fuck yourself; you know and I know nobody loves you, not even your mother.)
For those of you familiar with my lifestyle, you know I drink a lot and can hold my liquor better than a one-eyed sailor with emphysema. However, you also probably know that I have major allergy issues, am a big time baby when I get sick and a huge advocate for anything that will make me feel better, namely NyQuil, DayQuil, Benedryl, Mucinex, Sudafed.. all of which make me loopier than a one-eyed sailor with emphysema. Sure, sure, I also religiously use my NetiPot, put mint and eucalyptus oil in the bath with me, drink copious amounts of citrus juice, but give me a break, homeopathic remedies can only take me so far.
Anyway, I’m rambling, which actually brings us back to my point.. the point where I was giving you a redundant warning. I suspect that most of you reeeeeeeaaaallly don’t get my sense of humor to begin with, let alone when I’m all doped up on cough syrup. So, do us both a favor, if you don’t have the wit and patience for my column today, go read some cute, little puff piece explaining what to do and what not to do in this industry. There are loads to choose from on this site, including some that I’ve written.
Oh look, there’s a squirrel in our yard! I love squirrels; they’re such crack heads.
Ok, where were we? Right. Stretching your imagination. Today, I want you to pretend you are me.
Oh goodness, I’m giggling already. Is this going to be too hard for you? Hahaha, hard. Ok; focus.
You are me (now stop giggling.)
You have Goddess Jessica staying with you for the week. (Hahahaha, hard. Stoppppppp; focus.)
Ok. The two of you have many cam sessions lined up. One of them is with this guy. What should we call him; idiot? That sounds about right. Idiot has never had a cam session with you before. He has bought some of your clips, tributed you and received the enjoyable reward of being able to chat with you online. That’s pretty much as far as your relationship has gone. Now he wants a session with you and the more-than-modelesque Goddess Jessica. You can’t blame him; the two of you are an unstoppable duo. So to give you a jumping off point, you email idiot suggesting he write back with some of his fetish interests. The guy basically names everything: cei, joi, cbt, humiliation, cuckolding, forced bi, etc.
So, raise-the-roof, what fun, yada, yada, yada; right? We get him on cam. He’s (insert chuckle) not nearly into cbt as is Goddess Jessica. The poor sap had no idea what he was getting into with the two of us. We suggest he go find something to shove up his ass. Lo and behold, he comes back with a multitude of butt fetish instruments, the li’l perv. We have him shove a buttplug up in there and make him edge repeatedly until he is literally whimpering.
~Oh what? You don’t have the stomach to be Mistress B? I tried to warn you. If you can’t take the heat, get yo’ ass out the kitchen. I’m on a mission…. Wait; did I really just quote Coolio..? Dear lord; help me. ~
So, idiot is whining. You and Goddess Jessica are giggling. You have him by the balls, quite literally. You give him two options: 1. Stop the ….. Oh wait, I almost forgot. Prior to this ultimateum, idiot volunteered that he has a chastity device. This makes Goddess Jessica and The Mistress B giggle profusely because idiot seems really clean cut, shy, not really your average kinkster. So. He is right on the edge…… again. Leaking profusely. Balls a delightful, rainstorm-purple. After teasing him considerably we offer him two scintillatingly splendid options. 1. He remove the buttplug, immediately stop jerking his weeping dick and lock it up for the two of us… or 2. He tribute a mere, meager, minuscule $20 to each of us allowing him the right to cum on cam.
Can you believe the ass wipe chose #1? Yeah, neither could we.
So he locked it up and I played along. (Oh excuse me, that’s right. You are me in this scenario. I keep forgetting.)
You play along because there’s no way idiot could be this retarded. He’s just making an excuse not to pay the $40 because he’s a broke ass bitch. He’ll pretend to lock it up and mail me the key. Fuck, I mean mail you the key. Forget this nonsense; you could never be me. I’m switching back to the first person.
I give him the address to my p.o. box. Both Goddess Jessica and I see that he is indeed locked up.
Right Jess; didn’t we? I know I heard it click and we made him prance around afterwards. Yes. It was definitely locked.
I tell him to bring the envelope to the mailbox wearing nothing but his cage.
“Ohhh, gfawwh, mistress….” something about grounds for being arrested and some other bullshit.
“Fine. You can wear a towel.”
He thanks us.
I hang up and my guest, Goddess Jessica and I quickly forget about him.
Then I get an envelope in my.. sure enough, you guessed it, my p.o. box. I say the return addressor’s name out loud once, twice.. it takes a full four times before I’m like, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
He sent the keys. All three of them. Tiny, little keys that you really can’t bring to the locksmith to duplicate.
In fact, they look like the keys to the diary I had when I was young. It was a diary to which I lost the key and easily jimmied it open with a paperclip. Why that little bitch ass idiot. I mean.. we.. all along we suspected that he was lying; right? That’s why I put you in my shoes, tried to get you to see it from my perspective. So that I could see the situation more clearly. Yes, no, more Sudafed?
Ok; we’re going to assume he’s lying, but play along. Next time he messages we’re really going to milk him for all his humiliation and money so that he may “get his keys back.” Because, oh me, oh my, he’s been locked up for what, like a week now? Sigh.
I guess in some strange reality, maybe, wait, is there a chance that idiot did actually lock up his dick for two sadistic bitches just because they said so? Noooooo; that’s absurd. Right? I mean, what if we were truly, out-of-this-world insane? Or spastic? Or so flighty that I lost his keys? What if I was just fucking with him and didn’t actually have a p.o. box but gave him some random address? (I guess in that case the envelope would be returned to sender.. but, I mean, maybe not.)
Here in my state of confusion, amplified by the head which is floating from a string attached to my shoulders, I ask you, dear reader, is idiot really that stupid or is there, as we suspected all along, some other offensive foul play at hand?
Do tell me your opinion. And no, unlike all the other times I mock and then remind you that my questions are rhetorical, this time I am actually giving you my blessing to express your thoughts. This is a grand occassion for you sluts.. I am legitimately asking your opinion, (we can later blame it on the antihistamines.)
However great your swollen head thinks it may be, as per usual, I leave you with your mantra:
Listen and obey.
Click my links.
Buy my shit.
Go fuck yourself.