Trisha had been bugging me for some time to become an additional character. She was launching a new and slick website, and she wanted me to be one of the girls on that site, too. She herself plays about a dozen different girls – I have no idea how she keeps them straight.
I’d been extremely resistant to the idea, though I understood her logic. Kristi appeals to only a certain percentage of callers. Different characters with different profiles would be more lucrative.
Still, I didn’t want to become another character. First of all, I wasn’t convinced that I could pull off an accent or a very different personality. Also, I was concerned that someone who calls Kristi might also call the other girl. Trisha says that even regular callers never realize that they’re talking to the same person, but I found that hard to believe.
Plus, I like Kristi. I feel comfortable with her. Her personality is basically just my personality. For the most part, the stories I tell about my experiences are true (well, embellished, but based on real experiences). So while I’m not a 22-year-old redhead with a gorgeous ass, the essence of Kristi is me, and I like that. It makes me feel real. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a completely fake persona.
I turned Trisha down several times. She was disappointed but understanding, and I thought she’d given up asking.
One evening, though, she sent me a link and asked my opinion. She does this now and then because she knows I do some web design and she likes my taste. The link took me to the new site, to a blonde bombshell in a black latex outfit: Mistress Nicole.
I found her appealing. She was prominent on the site, and the only hardcore dominatrix listed. I thought she’d do well and I told Trisha so.
“I need someone to play her,” she said.
Oh.
I knew immediately that I was going to say yes. I don’t know why. She just fit. I liked her look (I find many of the girls in the pictures to be very unattractive) and the idea of finally moving into a real hardcore domme was a temptation, too.
“Okay, okay, send me all the pictures,” I sighed resignedly. “Let me get to know her a bit.”
So I took a long, serious look through my card file of clients, and isolated the ones I thought might call Mistress Nicole. I came up with only about two dozen possibles – none of the rest was likely to be interested in a hard-nosed dominatrix.
Of those, about 20 of them had called me only once. That’s when I realized that Trisha was right. Someone who talked to me for only ten minutes about four months ago was just not going to recognize my voice.
I decided that if any of my regulars found the new site and called Nicole, I’d simply ignore the phone. And if, against the odds, my caller ID didn’t warn me, I’d just have to cope.
“Can I change the profile?” I asked Trisha. I didn’t want to be stuck with someone else’s writing.
“Change anything you want,” she said. “Change the pictures too, if you like.”
I called up the phone company and got a second toll-free number on my line. They offered to have it ring differently for a mere three dollars a month.
Enter Mistress Nicole.
Once I’d made up my mind, writing her profile was easy, even if I did giggle through most of it. This time I had no throng of boys to try it out on, because no one was supposed to know that Nicole and Kristi were the same person. I managed on my own.
Mistress Nicole’s Profile
Hello, my little pets.
Your life is stressful, isn’t it? You’re constantly in charge. You make decisions all day long. Sometimes you dream about letting go of your responsibilities and focusing on only one thing – pleasing a beautiful, sexy, strong woman.
Kneel before me and I’ll take you away from your everyday life. I’ll bring you into my world of pleasure and pain, of sensual submission, and willing humiliation. But remember – once you submit to me, there’s no going back.
Shall I chain you up in my dungeon, my little one? I’ll torture your nipples and your cock until you beg for relief. If you please me, I might be generous enough to bend you over my bed and fuck your waiting ass.
Or would you like to be my pretty little slut? I’d love to dress you in a pair of my panties and see you struggle for balance in a pair of high, spiked heels.
Maybe what you crave is to be the naughty student of a strict headmistress, or a bad boy being punished by his Mommy, or the helpless captive that I’ve kidnapped for my pleasure. The possibilities are endless.
Or perhaps I’ll just order you to play with your toys for me. I’ll stroke my wet cunt as I listen to you use your clothespins or paddle or dildo on your willing body. Will I let you cum, or will I make you suffer endless torment?
I wrote it…but could I come up with that dialogue on the spot? All I could do was wait and see.
•
When Mistress Nicole asked Frank about himself, he said, “I’m a fat boy.” I didn’t really know how to react to that; it’s not normally the first thing someone says. So I just continued on, asking him how old he is and what he does.
When we got to what he likes to talk about, he answered, “I like to be humiliated.”
Damn. There I went, from semi-confident to extremely worried in about half a second. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I know there are people who enjoy being humiliated, but I still can’t get my brain around why they enjoy it. I’ve accepted that it’s a fetish, but I have trouble imagining myself doing it.
I know exactly why the fantasy doesn’t appeal to me. I hate the thought of being humiliated. The unsexiest thing I can possibly imagine is for my partner to deliberately say that I’m unattractive, stupid, or clumsy. None of those would be a turnon for me. In fact, hearing any of them in an intimate moment might make me end the relationship.
Conversely, I have trouble saying those things to someone else. At least, I presume that’s the dynamic. I just know that the thought of saying humiliating things to someone is uncomfortable at best. I don’t like to think of myself as mean, even if that’s what the customer wants.
I thought of just turning down the call, and I don’t really know why I didn’t. But I asked him what sorts of things he likes to hear – or maybe I asked what humiliates him.
“Well, my tits are big and floppy,” he started out. “I really should wear a bra. Like I said, I’m fat.”
Shit. Shit shit. The worst one. It hits my own insecurities dead-on. If anyone ever taunted me about being fat in a sexual situation, I just don’t know what I’d do. It would truly be my worst sexual nightmare. How can I say that to someone else?
“And I have a small cock, really. And of course, the rest of my body just makes it look smaller.”
I was only half-hearing him then. He stopped and waited expectantly.
“Well then,” I said slowly, sliding into my low, sexy voice, “If I told you to stand in front of me, and take off all your clothes, would that humiliate you?”
Ease into it, see where it goes. Sound confident and sensuous, I thought. Just don’t let him know you’re scared to death.
“Yessss,” he breathed. He said it softly, almost timidly, but I was clearly on the right track.
“And if I walked around you,” I continued, “and told you to keep your hands at your sides while I looked at your body, would that humiliate you?”
“Ohhh yessss…” He was breathing heavily now.
“And if I dimmed the lights around you… and turned a bright spotlight down on you, so I could study every inch of your body…”
He groaned loudly and came. Oh.
I was vastly relieved and just a little bit disappointed. I hadn’t said anything even remotely humiliating; he’d done it all in his own mind. I could have said almost the exact same words to a body builder.
Maybe that’s the key. Maybe it doesn’t have to be explicit, as long as it sparks their imagination.
Despite that minor success, I was still worried about the nastier femdom stuff, so I had a consultation with Mistress Marni. Remember Marni? Mistress of the Night, Goddess of Your Soul, Cooker of Husband’s Dinner, and Changer of Dirty Diapers.
She was very supportive to me about becoming Nicole. (This is something else I never expected about phone sex: the camaraderie. Everyone is nice. We wish each other happy birthdays, we gossip about the guys, and we give each other advice.)
Anyway, I told Marni how nervous I was about the more intense humiliation-type scenes. They’re just not in my nature.
“You can’t be nice,” she said. “They don’t want nice.”
“I know,” I answered, “but I am nice.”
We laughed.
“You know how you feel when you’re way too busy, and you’re just about to get your period, and everything in the universe irritates you, and you find yourself snapping at people you like?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. I’m intimately familiar with that feeling.
“Just talk to the guys the way you want to talk to people when you feel like that.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. When they say something annoying, say ‘shut up and get on your knees!’ They love it. Treat them the way you’d never dare to treat anyone.”
Could it actually be that simple? And in some ways, to my surprise, it was. For next few calls, I simply didn’t censor my irritation.
I found myself snapping, “Get those hands away from your cock now!” and “Not good enough! Do it again, harder!” and sarcastically asking, “What’s the matter, my pooooooor baby? You wanna come? Well that’s just too bad!”
They lapped it up. Honestly, these have been some of my most successful calls. It made me feel like a bully but it’s a great way to get your aggressions out.
•
By this time Kristi had enough regular callers that I’d mostly stopped hanging around America Online. Mistress Nicole, however, was starting from scratch, so it was time to hit the chatrooms. It was Friday night and all the traditional phone sex rooms were full, so I settled down into my own little room (named, creatively enough, “Mistress Nicole”) and waited.
I was overwhelmed within minutes. I had at least a dozen guys plus one woman all fighting for the chance to kneel at my cyber feet, and more were entering the room every second. I was busy enough just trying to send the link to my website out to people (the actual purpose of being in the chatroom) without having to play hostess at the same time.
I tried for a little while. There was no way I could deal with them all at once, so I told Elissa, the sub girl, to stand in the middle of the room. Then I commanded all the guys to kiss her feet and legs, and told her that she’d have to decide who did the best job. That gave me a moment’s breathing room.
But even still, it was impossible. Every thirty seconds a new guy entered the room, each whinier than the next. The older ones – those who had been in the room ten minutes or more – began to remind me how patiently they had been kneeling and waiting for attention. I finally had to admit defeat.
I said a quick goodnight, and sent a private compliment to Elissa for handling herself so well when I put her on the spot. I expected her to laugh and make a snide remark about having dozens of men at her feet.
“Thank you, Mistress. I’m very glad to have been of service to you.”
Some people just don’t know how to relax.
•
The next night I decided to try a different strategy. I needed to talk to these guys only in private Instant Messages, so I could send them my link without having to entertain.
I opened a room called “Mstrss Nicole IMs only” and minimized the window. Every once in awhile I’d peek into the room and find the massive list of people who had come and gone, plus one or two poor souls kneeling and waiting in vain. I did not take pity on them. If they couldn’t follow the simplest instructions, what good were they? (Hmm, maybe Mistress Nicole was rubbing off on me.)
Now, the convention on AOL is to read someone’s profile before you send her a message, and Nicole’s was very specific. It listed my occupation as “Profe$$ional Phone and E-mail Dominatrix” with a note that I did not do real time sessions ever. It instructed potential chatters to send me a message for information and pictures. In large bold letters, it warned “Serious inquiries from adults only. Do not send me a message just to chat.”
People began sending messages almost as soon as the room opened.
|
E1127: |
Hello. Nice pic. It’s hard to believe you are for real. |
|
M50295921: |
You are an amazing woman Mistress |
|
No8: |
how may i please you tonight? |
|
CNee: |
holy shit, you are hot as hell. wanna see whats in my hand? |
|
Gummyboy: |
Will you cyber me please? Please? Please please? |
|
Pskates: |
If that’s really your pic you are hot!!!!!! |
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Marky: |
Hi miss, very beautiful miss is, so does miss have room for another sub? |
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Iluvyurtoes: |
can i lick ur feet? |
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Gummyboy: |
Please, Mistress, please please, cyber me! |
|
P19: |
Hello mistress im paul 30 bi m may i have the pleasure of your wet little farts in my face and your hard leather fingers in my bottom |
|
E1127: |
Would you dominate me for real for a few thousand dollars? Not to flatter you but you have to be one of the hottest doms I have ever seen. |
|
Gummyboy: |
Mistress, your cyber slave is still waiting to serve you! |
This went on and on for hours. Hours. And in the end, I only got one call.
•
I thought being dominant would get easier, but it never did. Every time I thought I was used to it, there was an unexpected curve.
Alan seemed pretty non-descript for the first minute or so, but halfway through the required credit card information, he broke in and said, “I have a very specific fetish.”
“That’s all right,” I answered. “What kind of fetish?”
“I like to be humiliated.”
I still had trouble with that particular phrase, but I was learning. I once asked Trisha how she reacted when guys started out with that, and she didn’t hesitate. She said, “Oh yeah? Well, with a cock that small it’s a good thing you like to be humiliated. It must be a way of life for you.”
I’d figured out by then that “I like to be humiliated” can mean many different things, and not all of them were activities I disliked. So while that statement might have scared me once, it no longer did.
“That’s fine,” I replied. “What’s the expiration date on your card?”
I don’t know if it’s callous to do that, but I don’t talk about fantasies until I verify the information. I’ve had literally dozens of guys try to get me to spend ten minutes talking to them without paying. I don’t mind answering a few questions, but if they want to tell me a long, elaborate fantasy, they have to cough it up.
He gave me the expiration date, and then said, “It turns me on to know that a woman is taking my money. So the longer you try to keep me on the phone, the more I like it.”
Wow, this could be a phone sex operator’s dream client, I thought. It would be a turn on for him if I said, “Don’t hang up until I let you.”
I thought over strategies in my mind while I waited for the credit card to verify. He’d tell me he was going to hang up and I’d say, “Don’t you dare!” or “You’ll be one sorry bad boy if you do.”
I settled down for a long call. After spending the usual two minutes getting him to tell me about himself, I started in. I made him stand in front of me and strip. He was definitely aroused.Then I told him I was going to take my tank top off, but that he wasn’t allowed to touch me.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered breathlessly.
I didn’t even get the shirt completely off before he gave a short, sharp groan and hung up. Four minutes. He didn’t even give me a chance to keep him on the phone longer. I knew it sounded too good to be true.
•
Once Mistress Nicole was really up and running, I had to stop posting dominant ads from Kristina. The dominatrix persona was taking over. The submissive male market is large and I was making more money than I ever had before, but I wasn’t enjoying it. I didn’t mind a few femdom scenes here and there, but when they began creeping up to almost three-quarters of my calls, I started to get depressed.
My submissive side started to fight back with a recurring fantasy I couldn’t seem to shake off:
Mistress Nicole is entertaining a pair of submissive boys in her dungeon. She’s decked out in her full black leather regalia, and the evening is just beginning. She’s only just started to tease and torment the obedient slaves kneeling at her feet, when the door to her dungeon opens and an angry-looking guy bursts in.
This is Nicole’s boyfriend, and it’s not the first time she’s stood him up without bothering to call. It’s happened quite a few times since she started her new dominatrix business. He is Definitely Not Happy.
He’s momentarily distracted by the sight of the lovely Nicole in all her leather glory, and she manages to reassure her clients that this is not an axe-murdering maniac who has broken in.
With a teasing wink at her kneeling slaves, she slips into her boyfriend’s arms and kisses him passionately. At first she was angry that he interrupted her session, but now she’s glad too.
He pulls her tightly to him, running his hands over her leather-clad body.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers in his ear, running her hand through his hair. “I meant to call.”
“You always say that,” he growls.
“You’re right,” she admits, “I’ve been neglecting you shamelessly.”
“Yes, you have,” he answers, dropping one hand to squeeze a nipple.
“I’ll make it up to you,” she murmurs. “You can have your revenge on my poor, helpless body.”
“Oh, I plan to do just that,” he says quietly. “I plan to make you very sorry.”
She shivers. “I just have about an hour with these guys, and then I’m all yours.”
“No,” he answers calmly, “you’re all mine right now.”
She tries to pull away a bit, but he holds her in place.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “but I have to finish the session. I already charged them for it.”
“Don’t worry,” he answers. “They’ll get more than their money’s worth.”
Without warning, he drags her to a chair, and yanks her across his lap. Before she can even struggle he catches her wrists behind her back and holds her down.
With his right hand he lifts her leather mini-skirt and starts caressing her bottom, tracing the black leather g-string with his finger.
“Nice,” he observes. “How come you never wore this for me?”
Whatever her answer is, it’s muffled.
He looks over to her slaves, to see their reaction. They’re right where they were a moment earlier, but they’re confused and a little concerned. If this is one of Mistress Nicole’s tests, they don’t know the right answer.
He smiles at them.
“Guys, your mistress is about to get the spanking of a lifetime. Want to watch?”
She begins to struggle over his lap, and he brings his hand down hard, once on each bare cheek. She stops fighting immediately, and he admires the two red handprints for a long moment before he turns back to her slaves.
“Either watch and help, or leave right now,” he says. “But you won’t be doing her any favors if you leave. I’ll just punish her that much worse for having such badly trained slaves.”
He thought that would decide them and it does. They stay.
He points to one. “You, go find me whatever spanking toy she likes best,” he said. “The one she uses on you when she punishes you.”
The man hesitates for only a moment, and then disappears into another room.
“Now you,” he orders the other one, “take her boots off. I don’t need those high heels flying at my head.”
He holds her down as her slave obediently strips the boots off.
“Don’t kick,” her boyfriend warns, “because it’ll just be your pretty little slave you hurt, not me.”
The first slave returns and wordlessly offers a large polished wooden hairbrush.
Her boyfriend commends the man’s choice, and proceeds to rub the bristles lightly over Mistress Nicole’s bare bottom, making her shiver and wince and start to plead. He ignores her, and addresses her slaves once again. “I don’t think your mistress will want to be sitting anytime soon.”
Without warning and without warm-up, he begins spanking her hard, quickly turning her bottom from pale white to pink to a dark, angry red. When her squirming becomes almost violent, he suggests that her slaves hold her wrists and ankles in place. It takes him some time to get their attention because they’re fixated on their Mistress, dazed and aroused by this sudden role reversal.
It isn’t long before the once haughty and cruel mistress is sobbing uncontrollably over his lap.
There’s a vague possibility that my subconscious was trying to tell me something.
•
Over the next several months it only got worse. Mistress Nicole wasn’t doing well, and it was getting to the point where I hated to hear her phone ring. She got almost no repeat calls, which I suppose confirms that I wasn’t good at playing her.
I’m not sure why the Mistress calls were so difficult for me.I have much more kinky experience than most of the other girls, but the groveling guys always made me feel tongue-tied. I never knew what to say next. I could handle sensuous, teasing domination, and I could handle younger guys who always dreamed about being dominated, but I just couldn’t cope with experienced submissive men.
I guess it’s because Mistress Nicole was a construct, a fake, a stereo-type of a dominatrix. There was very little of myself in her. She could have been the ultimate Mistress, but I clearly wasn’t doing her justice.
Before giving up completely, I thought about asking one of the other girls if I could listen in on a few hardcore dominatrix calls, just to get some ideas. As it happens, fate intervened nicely in the form of a sub guy who called Nicole looking for a two-girl call with Trisha, the boss-lady.
The guy, Ken, was in a hotel room, so I took his number, promising to call Trisha and get right back to him. He just had one question before I hung up.
“Should I…have anything available for when you call?” he asked. “I don’t have any toys with me.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I just thought… if I need to go to the drugstore or something, I’d do it now, before the call.”
Drugstore. What would he need at a drugstore? A condom was the only thing that came to mind, but I had no idea why he’d need one. I racked my brain but it was blank.
“No, I don’t need any props. Just your naked self,” I assured him throatily.
That worked. He shivered and babbled and promised to wait by the phone.
Trisha was online, available, and as always, up for anything. (Me: “Do you want to do a two-girl call with Nicole?” Trisha: “Fuck, yeah!”)
I explained the whole situation to her. This guy wanted us both to dominate him, or for her to dominate the two of us. I preferred the latter. She was agreeable – whatever I wanted, it was my call. I also mentioned his drugstore question.
“Did you tell him to get anything?” she asked.
“No, I had no idea what to say.”
“Damn,” she said. “That could have been fun.”
Hmm.
We got the three-way call set up, and Trisha just took over.
“Hello, Ken,” she purred. “I understand that you like to be dominated.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he answered, excited.
“Well good,” she said. “I’m going to dominate both you and Nicole, is that right?”
“Yes, Mistress, I’d like that.”
We joked for a minute or two about how she always was the dominant one, and then she got right down to business.
“Ken, what are your limits?”
I never thought to ask that question in such a direct way. It made perfect sense.
“Oh… well… ” he hesitated only for a moment. “I’m not into golden showers or anything like that.” (I wondered then if guys ever said, “I don’t know,” or “I have no limits.” When I asked Trisha later, she explained in her own unique style: “Then I say, ‘You have no limits? So it’s okay with you if I shit down your throat?’ They usually find some limits after that.”)
“Oh, too bad,” she said. “But you like to be controlled, right?”
“Ohhh, yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Now Nicole tells me that you asked her if you needed anything for the call. Let’s just see what you have available, alright?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Now, let’s see… do you have some lotion?”
I was listening intently. She had an immediate list in her head and I wanted to learn it.
“Yes, Mistress, there’s some here.”
“Good. And do you have a hairbrush?”
“Yes, Mistress.” That was quiet. He knew what the hairbrush was for, I guess. I thought I did too.
“And… hmm… a hotel room. Ah, do you have a shoelace?”
“Yes, Mistress, I do.”
“Excellent. And do you have some ice?”
“Um, no, Mistress, I don’t have any ice.”
I thought she was going to tell him to go to the ice machine and get some, but she didn’t.
“You have toothpaste, though, don’t you, Ken?”
“Yes, Mistress, I have that.”
“Good. Now go gather those things,” she instructed. “We’ll wait.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, and put down the phone.
We were quiet a moment.
“Toothpaste?” I murmured.
She chuckled evilly. “Listen and learn, child. Listen and learn.”
I laughed. “I intend to!”
It took him a minute or two. I pictured him rushing frantically around the hotel room, naked, pulling a shoelace from his shoe.
He was out of breath when he came back. “I’m here, Mistress, and I have all the things.”
“Gooooood, Kenny, good. Now, I need you to take that shoelace and make a slipknot in the end of it.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“And put it around your balls and pull it nice and snug, alright?”
“Ohhhhh, yes, Mistress.”
“And when you’re done with that, I want you to take the long end of the lace and wrap it around each of your balls, separating them.”
He groaned. “Yes, Mistress.”
I’d been silent this whole time. There seemed to be nothing in particular for me to say.
He was still wrapping the shoelace when she began speaking again. “Now, we know you like to be dominated. Do you like pain? Spanking and things like that, Ken?”
“Ummm… well… yes, Mistress.”
“Don’t say you like it if you don’t,” she cautioned.
“No, no, I do like it, Mistress, very much.”
“Good, good. Is the shoelace all wrapped nice and tight?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Gooood. If I were there I’d tug on the end of it lightly every once in awhile, just to make sure you were paying attention.”
A groan.
“And what about humiliation? Are you into that, honey?”
“Ummm… I… don’t… don’t really know… ummm… what you mean.”
I was interested to hear the explanation myself.
“Well,” she began, “some people who like to be dominated like to be embarrassed. They like to be seen, or be dominated in public…”
He was interrupting already, saying no.
“Or,” she went on, “they like to hear me talk about their cock size, or call them names…”
He didn’t say anything then, but she must have sensed his interest.
“Would you like that?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he breathed.
“So you’d like it if I called you my little toy slut?” she inquired.
“Ohhhhh, yesssss, Mistress, yes.”
“Well my little toy slut, let me hear you spank that ass five times on each cheek with that hairbrush.”
It went on from there. She made him spank himself, then lube up the handle of the hairbrush with the lotion and fuck himself in the ass with it. Later she had him rub some toothpaste on the head of his cock (“NOT in the hole,” she warned) and masturbate. He reported that the toothpaste made him feel very warm.
She did involve me in the call, by the way. She interwove her orders to him with a fantasy about all of us. She directed him to do things to me, while she did things to him. He licked and sucked and worshipped my body at her command, and eventually we ended up in a triple fuck – her behind him with a strap-on, and him behind me.
Trisha was generally mild-mannered throughout the call. Once, though, she asked if he was masturbating, and he said that he was. She immediately went into the angry domme routine, yelling at him for touching his “pathetic little cock” without permission, calling him things like a “dirty whore slut bitch pansy,” and making him spank himself hard and beg for forgiveness. He ate it up.
It was a good scene, about 25 minutes, and clearly satisfying for the caller. Trisha said that by her standards he was easy to handle, and that she was very gentle with him.
I thought about this call for a long time afterwards. Now that I knew what to do, did I want to do it?
As luck would have it, Mistress Nicole’s phone rang soon after, and I decided to try out my new knowledge. It was a little easier, I admit, but still uncomfortable. I tried the shoelace trick but must have missed some crucial point because the guy could only make it wrap around one testicle and he got confused. I, being inexperienced in Shoelace Nut Bondage, was unable to help.
So I finally admitted defeat and concluded that I was just not cut out to be Mistress Nicole. I disconnected her number and didn’t miss her at all.