My Head Spins When I’m Broke

I have come to terms with the reality that the economic meltdown is effecting my ability to have a good time.  This is tragic and scary.  Business sucks ass.  I came out of a year of papers, reading, deadlines, presentations, and essentially reinventing myself to discover that no one has money to play.
The other day I met with a parsimonious future slave who condescendingly said, “I just don’t see what fun it is if you have to pay for it.” I almost spat on him.  Why do people think professional kink is a gig that women do just for the money?  The money is not any better than any other shit job.  It will do — I get to dress up is sexy clothes and hit boys, yea alright.  It is a pretty good choice if you are kinky and game to give the professional side of it a go.
A lot of my kink is wrapped up in the exchange of mooolah.  My social skills kind of suck.  I do not crave “real” relationships.  I would rather be alone.  So when a slave comes into my life I do not want to get to know them over hours and hours of mindless conversation about our similar perversions.  I would like to get down to it.  I want to see what makes you tick.  You say you have a scar – show it to me.  I don’t want to expatiate with bitches.  I can do that on my blog.
So I’m meeting with this douche and he can’t understand my kinks but expects me to understand his.  He can not wrap his head around the fact that if I am being paid it is better for me than if I am giving it away for free.  What am I the Village Voice? I’m a fucking Scorpio.  Sex is my business, I’m gonna get paid.   I could be doing a million other things but I am here tying up a middle aged fat man.  For Fun Eh?
Sure playing is fun.  I enjoy playing with a variety of people.  I like to see what makes libidos work.  I want to see the look on your face as my piss splatters on it.  But I don’t wan tot be your friend.  I am your Mistress, not your friend.  Got that?
So a good portion of the BDSM “community” thinks I am less than because I get paid to be kinky.  Why the confusion.  Do I judge you for liking the personal connection?  No I don’t.  I want to have clear boundaries that a paid relationship establishes for me. This is my job.  I mean, what if I actually do like someone? (it happens once in a while).  I am not the sort of person who wants that level of commitment, certainly not without compensation.
The way I see it I am working on my craft and providing a much-needed service to mostly middle aged white men.  You know, the ones with high paying careers but a soulless existence that prevents them from being pervy at home.  Yes, you.
If the question of money were taken out of the equations I would play with almost no one.  Have you ever tried to find someone who has the exact same fetishes as you?  It is nearly impossible.  Kink is a laundry list with most people.  I like this but I wont try that.  Oy vey!  With all this negotiating going on who can have any fun at all?
I like the variety of sexual encounters that working as a pro dommes give me.  I like the measured transaction.  I like the way being pervy for money feels.  There is just something about getting paid for it that does it for me.   Maybe I am a whore!  Feel like throwing stones?
The economy sucks.  Everyone knows this.  I suppose it is possible that dominatrices in DC are doing well, raking in the bailout money, but it is not likely.  Back here in Fascist City USA I have decided to spend my summer doing a little freelance work.  What a huge mistake.  I really wish I was able to get a job.  I have bizarre job skills.

Widow’s Job Skillz
I can:
Tutor kids in English and math (read minors and college age kidz, gulp.  Children scare me)
Make smut
Host your event
Teach college level human sexuality classes
Pro Kink Services (I am taking sessions at Dungeon Servitus this summer)

and I’m pretty good at turning boys into girls!

So where the hell does this leave me? Trolling for work on craigslist, that’s where.  I have replied to everything that looks tenable and several things that look sketchy.  I have sent my ass pics to almost a hundred pervs this week.  If I were a free porn collector I would post a want ad on that site.  I have posted, and emailed, and responded, and been polite to people.  Mostly what I have received as responses includes some version of the  “I don’t pay for it” line and a pic of a nasty fat middle aged man ass.  Why do overweight white guys think I want to see their ass?  I do not.
So just when I thought I might be able to make enough cash to get though the summer the phone range.  I answered it and heard the click of an AI message.  When Verizon hit the auto dial “your phone will be disconnected if you do not pay the large bill today” button I started to cry.  I answered the phone noting the local number and hoping that it was a cash happy perv with his pockets on fire.  The recording was a stern voice that suggest that Verizon has cut their lenience policy once again.  Oh crap, my phone might get shut off.  I’m tempted to let it.  Why do I need the phone?
I sat here for a few minutes asking myself why I need to have a phone.  My sister made it clear that she does not want to talk.  I’m tired of hearing from bill collectors and my girlfriend really should get a web cam.  Hmmmm.  Do I need a phone?
Yes of course I need a phone,.  It is my one last connection to the real world.  Without my phone I really am living in a cave connected only to the internet.  I have no car, no credit cards, no friends.  I need to have a phone.  Several of my people only communicate through this medium.  But what if I severed the financial bondage to Verizon?  Would I be able to cope?  Not likely.  I would have to ask people if I could use their phone.  I would not be able to cope with anything.  I might be able to get more writing done.  Almost certainly.
But what is a stunningly beautiful woman doing holing up in a cave with limited connections to the world?  I feel like I should get a video game system, call for take out and move in with mom.  Oy, I have turned into quite the hermit.
Why do men think that asking for scat, strap on training, and sex for free is an acceptable request?  Please don’t answer that.  I don’t want justification, I want a desk chair.  This milk crate I’m sitting on is hurting my ass.
Well I might as well tell you what my life really looks like.  I’m working on a few new ideas.  I’m hoping to get some clips up on clips for sale soon, also If my phone stays on I will be available on night flirt soon.  And I’m building a members site.  It is a literary site with some still photos and the occasional clip that I can’t post on clips for sale.  I hope that you will join my site. If not well then I’ll sit here working on making porn for naught.
You see the problem with all of this is that I’m fucking broke.  Fuck, I hate that.  Stinking economy.
(I’m making cute little pouty faces, grimacing and thinking about sticking out my tongue)
I have considered everything.  I have applied for modeling work, adjunct teaching positions, I have considered getting a “real” job but the idea of what I could get vs. the madness that would ensue has prevented me from even trying this one, I have considered stripping but this town requires you to get a strippers license which I am ineligible for.
I’m a little flabbergasted.  I’m not out of options but I am out of money.  I’m out of liquidity – well I have a lot of pee.  I would love to get paid to pee on boys.  Where are the golden shower boys?  I can always piss.  I love to piss.
So I’m actually leaning towards telling Verizon that they can go fuck themselves.  Can we begin going back to a pre phone world?  Maybe I’ll install skype and get over it.  Is Verizon an unnecessary bill?  Bet it is.  Till I go on tour and need to have a cell phone then I’ll be crawling back to them calling them master.
“Oh Verizon Master, might I have my number back? Please oh please?  I promise to pay your usury.  Oh Masterful Verizon I will give you my blood, my firstborn, anything you need just as long as I might have a cellular phone. Verizon Master – I am the bitch in this relationship. I will do as I am told.  Of course you can listen in to all my calls like ATT does.  Oh Master Verizon you are the only phone company for me.  And your face boi, he is a cutie with those little glasses.  I will submit to cyber sex with him.  Of course Verizon Master.  Anything You Wish!”
I might just have to dump the oppressive overweening Master.  I am a masochist but I expect my pain to feel good and this just sucks.   Now if they promised cyber sex with the nerd I would rearrange my position on this.
But then the blind panic of being too broke to pay my phone bill kicks in…
I feel like it is the only thing keeping me stable at all.  I have a stable number and a po box.  That is it.  My parents move all the time and don’t like me enough to let me get mail there.  My family is wacky.  I’m broke.  I can’t make my money showing boys my sexy legs and ass, even as they get hotter every day.
I get broker every day.
Aggggggg — madness.  Living on student loans sucks but boi I can’t wait for school to start up.  I’m loosing so much weight I don’t fit into my clothing.  I need to shop for smaller panties but I can’t afford to.  This is some crazy shit I’m dealing with. It might be better if I had a car but it might just be a bunch of bills I don’t need.  A Car – what a joke.
I’m loosing my mind in my little room.  I could really use a vacation.  Wanna take me on one?  Feel inspired to pay my phone bill?  Wanna send me money for my student loans?  Wanna send me fetish fashion so I can sit in my cave all dressed up blogging for you?  I hope so.  I have become a very neurotic writer and I would love to feel like a pampered sex goddess again soon.
I am in the process of updating my wish list so that you might amuse me with gifts of smaller panties, and other fancy stuff.  I hope you send me something.  Christmas in July was always my favorite.

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