Gary

Back when I was just a wee deviant I used to spend quite a bit of time finding helpless males to torture via AOL Instant Messenger, when one would actually call it such, and not this new-fangled AIM.

I was introduced to "Gary" through O. He found her, because as a joke in her profile, she had written that she enjoyed repurposing electrical toothbrushes as castration devices. Little did we know what a serious fellow this was and we engaged in many a conversation over the best way to relieve him of his unnecessary appendage.

We talked at length how we should be the last to use that thing between his legs for our pleasure, not for his. We wanted to have our way with him for hours. We would never let him cum. Then after blissful torture we would remove his disgusting manhood. The remodeled electric toothbrush would be switched on, a spinning frenzy of torture and delight, applied precisely and firmly to his testicals, zip, zip--faster than a haircut, we would simply slice them off.

Discussion still continued over what to do with the mess now that we had separated it from said owner. I was of a mind to bronze them and use them as paper weights. Perhaps now I would have used them as CBT weights. I think that would be rather fitting. I like to reduce, reuse and recycle.

He was so intent and enraptured by our sick, creative minds, he offered to pay for our passage to his town to engage in this fantasy. We never had the pleasure of castrating dear ole Gary, but I have delighted in many lovely castration scenarios since then.

I see L.A. as a beautiful blonde with dirty underwear*

I had a delightful time with my best-friend O. who came in from out of town. She is the Blonde to my Brunette, a fellow Tallsie, my partner in crime--when we get together there is bound to be trouble and jealous girlfriends.

It was only her second time in LA and it was uncharacteristically hotter than balls, so we eat lots of ice cream and go to the beach. I finally get to try the strange flavors of Scoops like Jim Beam and vanilla; cardamom and goat cheese and lavender. We admire the many boys of bicycles riding about the street.

She was quite amused at my newest slave who did his best to please us by cleaning and taking care of the litter box.

We go out to a bar and an extremely annoying guy starts talking to us. I'm hoping this drunk slovenly bastard will go away and then he asks me what I do so I tell him I'm a Dominatrix. He immediately gets front and center (interesting how that happens), asking me questions about it, saying he could offer me a spot on his show in exchange for spanking him for an hour. Really? O. jumps in and acts like my agent, asking how many hits it gets etc., but obviously this would boost his ratings more than mine and why would I want to spank you on a internet radio show? This is such a strange thing about LA, it is so about what I can do for you and what you can do for me. I have yet to have someone offer me anything worth my time.

O. has taken some BDSM/fetish photos for me before and I'm hoping we could shoot together again. She also did this wonderful animated illustration of one of my photos. She is so wonderfully gifted, but her time was too short for this trip and it was too blasted hot to do a photo shoot. Instead, she took lots of pictures of my cat and my toys. Cats love BDSM toys. It's true.

After grabbing some sushi, we walk down the end of the pier in Venice. There are lots of people fishing at night. A man stops, stares and shouts after us, Whoa! Are you two ladies Brazilian?


(*David Boreanaz)