Or; why I don’t offer same-day sessions.
Look, I get it. I know it’s exciting and nerve-wracking, and that sometimes you suspect that if you don’t just get it done then and there, you’ll never do it.
Am I talking about tattoos? Actually no, but there’s certainly an analogy in there. I’m sure plenty of places like tattoo and piercing parlours have a similar level of “Hi can you see me today?” requests.
You might think that it’s “worth a shot” or “can’t hurt to ask”, but actually as a first timer sending me a line like the above just indicates to me that you haven’t thought this through at all, and, more importantly, you don’t care that:
a) it’s an experience with me, as you couldn’t care less who is smacking/shouting at you, you just want it from anybody and,
b) that perhaps, just perhaps, I want to actually enjoy said experience too.
The guys who write 1-2 line emails like the above are not going to lead to sessions I’m interested in. I have no desire to be the “you’ll do” for your impulse wank fantasy, and if you can’t even be bothered to write a paragraph about what sort of session it is that you are even interested in, you certainly do not deserve the level of detail, planning and energy I put in to my scenes.
I state on my website that I usually require 3-4 days’ notice for bookings. This is an estimation, and sometimes that notice can be stretched to as little as 24 hours. Same day? No.
Well for starters because that is how I do things. Which should be the end of that explanation, but things on the internet often need spelling out a little more. So…
) I don’t live in a venue. Nor do I work from home. The various places I do offer sessions from are all studios, rooms or dungeons that I pay to hire, chosen for their suitability to each enquiry. They also all have their own calendars to juggle, meaning that not only is it harder to shoehorn additional bookings in with no notice, but it’s also a bit disrespectful to the owners of the venues. You give me notice, which gives them notice. Everyone’s feeling more relaxed.
2) I have a full and busy life outside of creating and running scenes and parties. Which means I don’t just sit around in a venue all day waiting for the phone to go. That would also be creepy due to point 1).
3) I need to plan. Just because you’ve said that it’s going to be a “standard school-theme session/usual headmistress stuff” doesn’t mean that I’m going to just autopilot from cold. Even the sessions in which I’m requested to be dressed casually (not yet had one asking for me in sweatpants or a onesie, mind…) and be super informal are still thought through. I need to know someone’s previous experiences/current expectations, and be in the most receptive headspace to read the reactions and body language of whoever I’m playing with so that I can deliver the optimal experience that I am known for. So much of what I do that is devastating to you is non-physical, and without sounding like a total wanker, it’s actually quite full-on both emotionally and physically for me. I’ll usually be pretty damn tired after a few hours of play, no matter how exhilarating it was. It’s not a bad thing, obviously, but it’s something I’d love more people to bear in mind.
4) Anticipation is a cruel and wonderful thing. I love knowing that the person I’m going to be playing with is having to have at least one night’s sleep with the tingling, inexorable awareness in the back of their mind that an intense, and possibly terrifying, experience is going to happen. Even if someone doesn’t directly dream about the upcoming session, the trepidation starts a chemical reaction in the body that just isn’t there for something last minute. Too subtle for some, maybe, but the devil is in the detail, as they say.
5) This list shouldn’t need to be this long, so just respect my time and energy, and reap the eventual endorphin reward, smug in the knowledge that I had a fun/satisfying time too.
Naturally I’ve randomly baited another email-troll. I’m not entirely sure where this comes on the “lowest form of wit” scale: under sarcasm, or slightly above it.
Regardless, when I’m on trains I tend to find myself at a loose end, and torn between reading my eBay feedback, pulling off split ends, or amusing myself with shit that not many other people find funny, I’m going to plump for the latter.
Anyway. This week’s playtime came courtesy of “d”.
If nothing else, please do enjoy the following missive as a work of abject subservience, and a workshop in How Not To Find A Mistress.
*down on bended knees, nose to the ground*
— APPLICATION TO SERVE HER HIGHNESS —
i, slave *doggy*, am humbly kneeled down and hereby ask permission to serve Divine Goddess Amy as my legitimate Owner.
i fully understand and agree that this is only on a complete voluntary basis. Once i enter Her service, i will serve with my whole body, mind, and soul.
And i promise that i will ALWAYS be a very loyal and obedient servant and 24/7 money $lave.
i promise that i will remain faithful to my Divine Goddess, and will NOT serve Anyone else but Herself – and Her Supreme Family – while under Contract.
If i do violate this Rule, i fully understand that i will be terminated immediately, no questions asked.
Princess Amy is the sole Owner of my mind, body, and spirit.
She is my Deity, and i am Her Personal servant and (money) $lave for life. i am in no position to fail Her nor quit at any time.
i shall be bound to this commitment and will work VERY hard to fulfil all my duties, so i will be able to take my full responsibility and be used to the fullest.
As Owned 24/7 property i fully agree that i shall have to pay ALL the bills and expenses, rent, as well as being responsible for the entire upkeep and well-being of my Goddess.
i shall serve my Owner on bleeding knees and work at least 19 hours a day in total chastity since i owe Her my life. my only purpose is to be drained for life and to go into debt if needed.
i shall accept my destiny and fate to be used as the lifelong property of the Goddess and serve Her Beloved Ones on bended knees at all times, since They are ALL my Superiors.
i will promise to Obey, to Serve, and to Worship my Goddess without hesitation and do whatever is needed to make Her happy.
By signing this Application, i am turning over ALL my rights to Divine Goddess Amy while kissing Her Majestic feet in devotion and gratitude.
PLEASE, Your Highness?
Your devoted and humble $lave for life,
[Owned 24/7 property and Personal $lave of Her Divine Highness, Goddess Amy Hunter]
Somebody actually typed all of that out. And quite possibly typed it out with one hand, as it does smack rather of “frantic keyboard jerk-off”.
Not only that, but in order to mercilessly sodomise the English Language quite to the extent he does, he must have made extra effort to decline things like the auto-spell checks for all the “i” references. What a champ!
Let’s see how disparaging I can be without actually making it too obvious:
Thank you for your email and initial application. It was well-timed indeed, as my previous full-time slave violated his contract just last week and I was sadly required to terminate him.
One of your first tasks will be to locate a large source of Calcium Oxide and a tarpaulin. Can you confirm you are fit and healthy with no back problems? There will be heavy lifting involved.
Supreme Princess Hunter
Before the pedants start; yes, I am well aware that quicklime doesn’t actually dissolve bodies. What the hell do you take me for, some sort of amateur?
I was rather chuffed with Supreme Princess Hunter. I think it was just on the right side of preposterous without making it blatant that I’m taking the piss.
Slave *doggy* agreed. I was treated to another spurt of grovel ejaculate:
Dear Superior One, Goddess Hunter, Your Highness,
Fully understood!! i just had surgery on my wrist and elbow last year….
i am still kneeled down on bare knees to beg You most humbly for permission to send You my slave Contract for review, PLEASE? (my Sister is a Pro Domme and She insists).
i hope and pray that this means enslavement for life, correct?
i am experienced, i have been a live-in butlerboy (house slave) for almost 5 years in the U.K., but i really need a new collar and leash. i wanna be a good dog and slave slut *begging*
Will the Master (Your Boyfriend/Husband?) accept me too on Your behalf, please? i fear You both but i hope to get trained online soon…. i am so grateful i have found You now, so i am eager to turn over all my rights to my new Owner(s)…. *kissing Your toes in awe and gratitude*
Your applicant slut d/doggy
Right-oh, tiger. Your sister’s a Pro-Domme? Then why not serve her?
Oh. That’s right; because it would be weird.
Anyway, wait a moment. Where did all this “slut” business come from?
I thought my new Slave For Life (which does rather make it sound like I paid 10p for him at the Tesco checkout.) was working 19 hours a day in total chastity? Or maybe he’s just planning on being a slut the other 5 hours of the day?
I had a good chuckle about how Mr Hunter would react if faced with a dude on the floor in front of him pretending to be a dog, with bleeding knees, agonising over what glasses to put out for the fish course that evening and veering dramatically between chaste and sluttish.
Sadly I’d now decided I couldn’t really be bothered continuing this, as the detergent drawer in the washing machine needed disinfecting, and I also needed to do some work that would actually result in some sort of financial gain. Still, on the off chance that he might be exceptionally dumb, I sent a quick reply.
(It was quick for the main reason of my walking up a huge hill in the rain, at the time.)
You clearly have very tough knees, I applaud this.
I was required to use another slave for my more urgent task, so your wrist and elbow are saved for now.
Your contract should be accompanied by a full CV of education information, and should be fully spell-checked. I require correct grammar at all times.
I obviously receive many applications for slave roles, so there may be a short-list situation with addition application procedures and expenses.
I trust this is not a problem.
The Divine Duchess Hunter of Unlimited Satirical Prowess.
Turns out that self-imposed title may have been what pushed it too far, as he never replied.
One adjective too many, I fear…