I had to stop pro domming at that dungeon after just one session because the laws around sex work changed and now, while it’s legal to do sex work, anyone who goes to a sex worker or gives a sex worker a place to operate is criminalized. So I guess my old boss might still be seeing regulars on the downlow but can’t have a stable of pro-dommes or else she’s a pimp, and maybe can’t advertise that she does sessions because she’ll be penalized for operating a dungeon? I’m not totally clear on that last part.
And in a way I was relieved. There are things I liked about pro domming and things I didn’t and I guess being forcibly cut off from it relieved me of having to make a decision of whether or not to continue.
Some guy on FetLife messaged me recently to say that he loved the photos I have up of my feet and wondered if I would be open to one-on-one sessions. And I’m poor, and not averse to foot play, so I said sure. I fully expected that dude would turn out to be a time-waster but everything went astoundingly well – he told me what activities he wanted without going into a bunch of wanky detail, he agreed to the price I asked for without trying to haggle, he gave me his phone number without me having to ask for it yet didn’t ask for any personal info from me, he paid a deposit without hesitation, all of his messages were short and respectful – my gut feelings were good.
I did not want this guy coming to my place, because it’s messy and has two nosy/invasive cats and also I didn’t want him knowing my address. I could probably have rented the dungeon where I used to work (I would imagine the headmistress would manage not to turn herself in to the police :P), but that would have cost $50/hr and frankly I’d be paying for a bunch of amenities I don’t need. Also the headmistress hasn’t been very quick to return emails lately so scheduling might be a bitch. I had a feeling The Veteran wouldn’t mind me using her place for a smaller fee. I proposed $25 for the hour. She agreed.
The client was as much of a gem in person as he was online. He showed up promptly, handed me my money when I was so nervous and scatterbrained that I’d forgotten to even ask for it, and was extremely respectful of boundaries. We hadn’t discussed whether he would be orgasming or not (indeed, I am slow on the uptake and didn’t even think of that when I gave him my price quote) but when he asked “am I allowed to jerk off?” I was fine with it because I felt comfortable with him. In the end I invited him to come on my feet (gallons! Like maybe more semen than I have ever seen come out of a guy in real life, and that’s saying something!) and then lick it all off. Then he helped me wipe the remainder off The Veteran’s floor.
I’m fairly annoyed with The Veteran, though. Well, in fairness she’s been annoying me for a while now – she’s just so relentlessly talkative and opinionated, and at the end of every visit I end up standing with my hand on her doorknob for a minimum of half an hour, trying to leave, but she kind of won’t stop talking. She’s told me that she thinks she may be on the autism spectrum, and indeed, she does seem sort of impervious to rudeness, but it’s still really hard for me to be like “I NEED YOU TO STOP TALKING NOW” so mostly I just put up with her as best I can. I mean she’s a really good person but the goodness comes wrapped in a problematic coating. 😛
But anyway, after the client left and she returned to the apartment, she started putting the screws to me, saying that she would probably want more money if we were to do this again (which means I’d have to ask the client for more money because I don’t want to lose out on my cut!). So that’s…awkward. She was almost acting as though she was doing me a favour by letting me use her place, when in fact I think it’s the other way around. I knew she was looking for opportunities to make money so I offered her one – one which, by the way, would involve almost nothing from her. She habitually keeps her place pretty neat and clean, and I have her spare keys so I could come and go at will. Basically I could just schedule sessions for when she was at work and she would come home to find everything exactly as she left it but with $25 on the table.
Granted, she insisted on being in the building this time just to make sure I was safe. But she offered that – I didn’t ask her – and I kind of assumed she was doing it to look out for a friend, not as leverage so she could point out later how much she was doing for me and ask me for more money.
Also, she kept brainstorming these fucking ridiculous ideas to try to milk my client for more money. Like, she collects all kinds of random flotsam and jetsam that she eventually intends to sell, and she said if dude comes over again she’ll put price tags on a bunch of stuff so that while we’re standing around having discussions about how awesome her space is (The Veteran seems to think that visits to a sex worker involve a lot of genteel standing around and talking) I can be all “Sooooo you wanna buy a lamp?” I swear to god I’m not making this up.
She also said I should invite him to other events at the studio (the studio being her apartment; it’s in one of those artsy loft buildings and technically nobody’s allowed to live there but they do anyway). The only studio “events” she’s planning that I know of are drawing classes so I don’t even know what the fuck she’s talking about here.
And she’s super gung ho to get in on my sessions (“Ask him if he’d like to play with two women at once!”). Ummmm no. It’s not my place to upsell, and trying to sell the guy who’s into giantesses with pretty feet on playing with me and my average-sized friend with the foot eczema doesn’t sound like a great business strategy.
I wanted to be like “Veteran, this guy is a sex work client with a fetish that he’s probably a bit embarrassed about. He will not want to come to the studio to mingle.with a bunch of strangers. He will not want to come to the studio to shop for lamps. What he wants is to come over, get his itch scratched, and GTFO with a minimum of fanfare.” But I’ll admit it – with her brash, pushy way of speaking, The Veteran just cows me. She has the gift of seeming like she knows what she’s talking about even when she’s demonstrably spouting complete bullshit, and I just can’t seem to talk back to her. She’s got, like, permanent “mom voice” even though she’s never had kids.
Incidentally, Mine was visiting during this session. Initially he talked about coming along to lurk in the building as “security” but then he had a wee attack of social anxiety and decided that an hour of trying to make small talk with The Veteran was a bit more than he could handle. So instead I had him grocery shop for me while I was gone, and told him that when I returned I’d be all wired and exhausted and fucked up and I’d need him to help me decompress, probably through food and snuggles. He enthusiastically agreed to help.
And you guys, he was so good. He got precisely the right groceries (I’m picky due to food allergies) and waited for me at the bus stop so I could get hugs that much sooner. He made me sausage and eggs just the way I like ’em, washed out the slow cooker and put soup stuffs in there so I’d have soup by morning, and petted and massaged me on the couch while we watched cartoons. Finally I told him that I thought I needed to sleep on the couch that night, apart from him (for access to the tv in case I was still too wired to sleep, plus Mine is a snorer and it repeatedly wakes me up) but asked him to please snuggle me until I fell asleep, which he did.
Also, when we were walking home from the bus stop I was sorta trying to hash out my feelings about the session. I told him I felt sorta conflicted, not because of any actual bad feelings about the experience but just the cultural slut-shamey baggage – that narrative that someone who would do this is “lacking in self-respect” or whatever. Mine immediately said “fuck all of that shit,” which under different circumstances might have struck me as irritatingly dismissive but in this case just affirmed for me that at least he isn’t judging me.
Oh, and before I left for the session I was feeling insecure and asked Mine if he felt jealous over this client. He said no, I’m free to do whatever I want and he’s not gonna get possessive. “I don’t mean it like that,” I said. “I mean…this guy will always get the best version of me; the pretty dress, the makeup, the willingness to fulfill his fantasies. And you…get me in the cat-hair sweatpants.”
“No. I’m not jealous. I like this,” Mine said, petting my furry sweatpantsed leg. And my gut tells me he means it. ❤