Greetings Program!

Another Venus in Furs

Mixed Signals

Reading my blog, you'd think I'd be happy about this but I ended up freaked out.

When making my plans to come into NYC I posted on Facebook that I needed a place to stay. I got two offers - one from an old friend in Brooklyn and another from a writer/film geek in Manhattan. The Brooklyn Friend could offer me a couch for free while the Manhattan Film Geek offered up his queen sized bed for $50 a night. I opted for the bed.

The Manhattan Film Geek (MFG) was slated to be out of town the days I was in town so he'd have his roommate let me in and give me a spare set of keys. His roommate would take the couch while I took the bed. Sounded like a bargain to me.

As the weeks went on, things started to change as more notes came in via Facebook.

MFG told me that he would be back for the dates I was in town. Jokingly I asked if we'd be sharing a bed and told him that I'd love to be cuddled.

He wrote back and asked me if I'd enjoy a long, luxurious blowjob.

I wrote back and told him that in the parlance I'd be considered a "bear."

He wrote back and told me how much he loves bears.

My last comment was that this trip was looking better and better.

If you listened to my conversations with most of my guy friends you'd think that we were raging queens. We're always throwing shade about sucking dick or getting buttfucked. Little did I know that MFG wasn't joking around.

I found this out when I got to his Manhattan apartment and he greeted me with a tight hug and warm kiss on the cheek.

If MFG had been a different guy or if I was in a different headspace I might have been happy about this development but, instead, it was a predicament. I suddenly felt the age-old excuse on my lips, "I'm not in the mood."

It's not that MFG wasn't attractive - he's a nice looking guy. It's just that he exuded an air of insanity; a manic energy that just put me off of him immediately as both a potential lover as well as a friend.

After the hug, MFG got a phone call from a film producer in Italy and, suddenly, we were off to the races. I sat on his couch, cooling off from my long walk from the subway station, and watched him make a series of phone calls and send email and Facebook updates all afternoon. As time ticked by I realized that he was far more into setting up a screening of some films in Los Angeles for this Italian producer than into doing anything with me. I was grateful. I was also hungry. He kept saying, "Just one more email and we can go to lunch." Four hours later I finally got my coat on and left.

I headed downtown to meet with a fellow writer and attend the Cinekink film festival. After a few hours of films and a day of travel I looked forward to going back to MFG's pad and getting some sleep. I started to leave the Anthology Film Archives only to find MFG waiting for me in the lobby. Oh, shit.

He and a friend were hanging out, waiting for me. We shot the shit for a bit before MFG finally agreed to leave. That began what I have since referred to as "Mr. Toad's Wild Walk." We went from Second Ave and Second St over to Avenue A back over to Fourth Avenue back to Second back to Fourth and up to Fourteenth Street where MFG's friend too the "L" to go home while we took a train up to 42nd Street.

As we went down the stairs to the station I managed to twist my ankle fairly well. When we stopped at 42nd street I didn't realize that we had a mile to go before I could sleep. We walked from 42nd and Park (Grand Central) all the way to 51st and 10th with MFG talking and acting as a manic tour guide the entire time -- pointing out what nearly every building is and what the past five businesses to own it had been. He especially discussed the former movie houses of old, even dipping into the lobbies of numerous buildings to show me entrances and architecture, waxing about the glory days of skuzzy NYC before the Giuliani clean-up.

Limping along; one ankle twisted, both feet blistered, I finally had to yell at MFG saying, "Listen, son, I'm from Detroit. We don't walk. We drive everywhere. Now, get me back to your place so I can get some fucking sleep."

That slowed (but didn't stop) the tour.

I ended up bunking on MFG's couch while he and his roommate shared the queen-sized bed. As soon as the lights went out the noise started -- not the expected New York city noise of sirens and honking horns but the scratch scratch scratch of their pet chinchilla running mad circles in his wall-sized cage. I'm glad that the chinchilla was at least in a cage as it could easily get lost and die in the mess of the apartment.

I don't know why I was so surprised the next morning when I got up to shower only to find that the bathtub was a nightmare of mold and mildew. I felt far more dirty after my shower than before it. That's when I vowed to find a new place. Somewhere without an amorous, manic host, somewhere with a bed, and somewhere with a clean shower.

I hopped onto Hotwire.com and scored a four-star hotel down in Soho. It was more than $50 a night but my sanity was worth it.

Velvet Underground

Venus in Furs...

Publish and Be Damned

I'm honored to have been invited to be a part of the Publish and Be Damned blog by my fellow writers of Republica Press.

The first topic we're blogging on is how we were first exposed to smut and how we got into "the game." Check it out!

Strike, Dear Mistress

Jane's Guide!

Pruient Interests has been reviewed on Jane's Guide!

Surprisingly, Jane has some nice things to say about the site. Her one critique about changing the navigation to be easier to surf the site has been addressed! Yay!

Friday Night Plight

I don't have a lot of limits.

I try to be open to new things and don't want to put myself into a corner where I require x, y, and z to get me off and anything from a to v are off limits.

That said, my four limits are: No blood (which I've violated at least once), no scat, no house work (not sexy and I should be cleaning my house, not yours), and no abandonment.

Four things. That's six less than Jehovah gave the Hebrews. Pretty straight-forward. Or so I thought.

I went over these four limits with my good friend, Ms. D, over drinks and nachos when she arrived in town. I had rented us a room uptown and I was glad to be away from my rather psychotic roommate for the evening.

It promised to be a memorable night. We would go back to the room, play for a bit, and then be joined by a Dominant male who'd help fulfill a long-held fantasy.

Not trying to "top from the bottom" I ran what I had in mind past Ms. D. "We're a couple. We've been going out for months and I'm going to propose. I got us a room in the big city and you know what I have planned. You're fine getting married to me but you want to make sure I know that I'm never going to consummate the relationship and that you've been fucking another man for months. You've chosen this occasion to introduce me to him."

Yes, I was going to be cuckolded.

I've always wanted to play with a couple in this way -- to be made to feel inferior around another man. She and I had exchanged emails about this for a while and I knew that she was going to tie me up and have sex with this man while I watched. They'd also take turns beating my bottom with belts and generally humiliating me. I hoped that I would also have to be her "fluffer" and be allowed, er, forced, to suck on the man's cock. I've craved that humiliation for years.

I tried walking into this whole situation with only the vaguest of expectations. I find that scripting out a scene is a recipe for disappointment.

We got back to the room and Ms. D jumped into playing a little abruptly. I rolled with the punches here and had a nice time as she tied me up and did some impact play. She was also very sensual, being very nice to me with the promise that she would be a total bitch when her man showed up.

He texted around 9 o'clock, saying that he'd be up shortly. Ms. D put me down on the floor, kneeling with my butt up in the air, my feet tied with pink bondage tape, my cock similarly trussed and sticking out behind me. A "mindfold" blocked out the light, Ms. D opted to not put in the ear plugs at that point.

The man came in and I was introduced in this position. Ms. D gave him a little demonstration of what she had in store for me later in the evening and gave me a swat with her belt that was so painful that I cried out. Biting my lip and snuffling for air, Ms. D and her man decided to go out, get a few drinks, and discuss what they wanted to do.

As quickly as the door closed my mood changed. I was so stunned that it took me a few hours to figure out why I went from happy and excited to completely depressed like a light switch were flicked in my head. I had been abandoned.

I didn't stay in my position for long. I managed to get the blindfold off and unhook the clain that clasped my cuffs tightly together. I left my feet bound but stripped off the tape that was wrapped around my now-limp dick. I had needed to use the bathroom even before we started playing. It all happened so suddenly that I hadn't asked to go beforehand.

Afterwards, I sat on the room's couch with my book, trying to read while my mood blackened with each passing minute.

My phone started to ring and I shuffled over to it, looking like Tim Conway's "little old man" character from "The Carol Burnett Show". It was Ms. D. She immediately picked up on my mood, even when I hadn't fully acknowledged it. She asked me to come down to join she and her man for drinks. I could tell that she wanted me to and I didn't want to disappoint. Plus, I was feeling pretty lonely, tied up in the hotel room.

I uncuffed my hands, cut off the tape, and removed the vibrating rubber ring that had gone dead after hours of being wrapped around the base of my cock.

Ironically, they were at the same bar where Ms. D and I had been just a few hours earlier. I finally got to meet her man face-to-face. He sat behind an empty shot glass, a half-full beer, and was sipping an apple martini. Ms. D seemed a little tipsy while he was completely blotto. This made my blood run cold. I couldn't abide the idea of playing with someone even remotely drunk, especially someone that I knew wanted to beat my butt with a belt. Plus, coming in as sober as a nun, I didn't like being around someone drunk as it brought back a lot of negative emotions of my alcoholic ex-stepfather.

As soon as he left for a cigarette I told Ms. D, "I'm not into this at all."

She could tell.

I felt horrible as I knew I was disappointing her with my need to bow out. I did the only thing I felt I could do -- I offered to pack up my stuff and bring her the key to the room.

That's exactly what I did. As I packed I realized how much I didn't want to go back to the place where I was staying. I had already booked another room for the rest of the weekend but had planned on crashing on the couch after Ms. D and her man were done with me. But, to be frank, I had hoped they'd be done with me well before midnight as I was exhausted. The depression made me more tired as well. I could barely keep my eyes open as I got online and prayed that I could book the same hotel where I planned to go the next morning a day earlier.

I did.

I rolled my suitcase down to the bar and Ms. D met me outside for the key. I assured her that she hadn't done anything to upset me. At that point I really didn't realize that she had. I was numb to everything except the need to sleep.

It took too long to get down to the hotel and get settled into my room. In bed I tossed and turned for hours, despite my exhaustion, as I replayed everything that had happened that night, trying to figure out why I felt so bad. As you've read, I finally got the answers.

My Time in The Fortress...

Somewhere in Chinatown behind a nondescript door on the fifth floor, Mistress Kang welcomes clients into her world; Fortress NYC.

Mistress Kang was recommended to me by Miss Alice Skary of North Carolina. Unlike some white guys, I don't have a "thing" for Asian women. Rather, I have a "thing" for smart, attractive women and Miss Alice saw that Mistress Kang has her shit together.

When I first contacted Mistress Kang via her helpful and easy-to-navigate website, she responded quickly and professionally. She maintained a friendly and professional attitude throughout all of our online correspondence.

One of the posts on her website's forum discussed how great Mistress Kang is at providing recommendations of Dommes at Forstress for potential clients based on their needs. After outlining some of my fantasies, Mistress Kang came back with two Dommes that might have suited me. I settled on Mistress Zhao, a perky and petite woman whose website profile professed "she has the advantage of armchair psychology and a ball gag." That sounded perfect to me.

The three words I'd use to describe Fortress NYC are: "Safe", "Clean", and "Professional". Coming up to the entrance of the facilities, I was buzzed in, had my ID checked, and buzzed into the main hallway of the establishment where I was instructed to visit The Steel Room - a serene space equipped for a wide variety of play including medical. In the foyer to The Steel Room I was greeted again by Mistress Jessica via the elaborate closed-circuit / intercom system. She instructed me to get ready before she'd buzz me into The Steel Room proper. The foyer had places to hang up my clothes and there was a sign offering to charge my cell phone while the session was going on. This really helped me out as NYC was draining my battery with my reliance on Google Maps to get around.

I won't give a blow-by-blow recap of my session with Mistress Zhao. (I'll save that for a story). But I will say that she immediately put me at ease upon arrival. As friendly as she is beautiful, we discussed my limitations and my few expectations. I didn't want to be frustratingly vague, telling her that I was very open to new experiences and was willing to go where she wanted to take me.

She created a mental landscape that we played against during our blissful hour-long session, taking me to some great places during our time together. I love being talked to during a session and she did that incredibly well. Additionally, when I saw the electrical gear available to us I asked if we could utilize it. Turns out, it's one of her specialties.

I really can't say enough nice things about Fortress NYC. Suffice to say that I wish there was someplace as well-run in Detroit and that I plan on visiting the Fortress again the next time I make it to the Big Apple.

Sexy Cyborg

In Your Own Skin