Mastubating Green

For years I've been what I consider to be an eco-friendly masturbator. I've reduced by switching to a plug-in vibrator, and frankly WOW.. wouldn't go back. By doing so, I single handedly eliminated thousands of batteries from being put into out landfills.

Before that, I reused. When a vibe died, I would keep it in the vibrator graveyard that was my nightstand drawer, knowing eventually I would use it to frankenstein a new vibe out of the old ones.

Now, my eco-friendly solo artists, there is the final piece to the triad of conscientious masturbation.. a place to recycle your used sex toys.

http://recycleyoursextoy.com/ accepts clean, used sex toys to take apart and recycle.

Well, that's what they say, anyway. For all I know it's a very devoted fetishist with a clever scheme to increase his collection.

One year Later...

Still alive, still healthy, and still happy to be a sex worker.

I've been getting more and more writing work, much of it for adult magazines.. go figger.

Since we last touched base, I've still taken calls, though far fewer this past year, averaging, only a few a week and often only a couple of weeks a month. Mostly, I stay busy with writing and caring for my family.

As I watch people being hit by the harsh economy, I've been relieved to have a job I can't be fired from. In theory, I could see a reduction in income from fewer or shorter calls, but so far that hasn't been the case.

This past month, I've started advertising my services once again, my ex-husband has become unemployed, like so many others hit by the recession, and I'm working a few extra hours to replace the support check I imagine he will be hard pressed to produce. He's never (figuratively) screwed me before, so I might have nothing to worry about. Still better safe than sorry. I'm going on a cruise soon, and I'd rather be more flush than usual than less.

I'll be updating my blogroll to get rid of dead links, and include some valuable sites for PSOs and those curious about the business. I might even have a new look for the old clunker of a site soon. For those of you who remember the good old days when I posted regularly, it used to look kinda personal. That was before I virtually abandoned you all to go play with my real world friends.

I hope you're all well.. those fifty or so who still check back after all this time.

Til next time, take care.

What's up buttercup? Operator15's FAQ

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An Impolite Conversation About Money

When done right, there are some great perks to working as a phone sex operator.

Aside from saving cash and time on commuting and dry cleaning, when done correctly, it pays really fucking well.

Now this is not to say all operators make good money. In fact, the sad part of it is that the least paid are often the worst treated. Poor operators being forced to sit by their phones during their entire shift, or even wear headsets for hours on end, waiting for the tell-tale beep of a call coming through. These women are often end up making less than minimum wage when they get done. It's legal because they sign on as independant contractors, which is why it's also legal to offer no benefits or overtime while not with-holding taxes or paying unemployment insurance for them. No, for these poor bitches and bastards, life can be a stressful stream of calls from often abusive men, talking about things they may find distrubing under the supervision of a legal form of pimp or procuress who harasses them to make their minimum average call lengths.

If you're a caller, please be aware that you may be speaking with one of these women who takes a job at home for whatever reason and hasn't yet figured out how to make good money at what she does. it's her job to show you a good time, so even if you ask her about it, she'd be obligated to give some story about how she just really loves to get off with 20 self-indulgant strangers(and one or two kind gentelemen)a night so BE FUCKING NICE!

That said, once operators figure out how to get off the hamster wheel and work for themselves, or for a more, shall we say, appreciative company, it's possible to make pretty good money.

I get an average of $75 per hour for talking plus tips and gifts. Now, some of that goes back into advertising, and I have to spend some unpaid time in promoting myself. Still, my total wage for the hours I put in is around $50 per hour.

Now, I can see the little wheels in your head turning 'oh my gosh, thats's $50 per hour at 40 hours a week for 2k a week.. fifty two weeks a year, figure taking a few weeks vacation, that bitch is banking over a hundred thou a year. Oh gotta start turning phone tricks!'

Cool your jets, happy hooker. It's not that simple. It's true, I make really good money when I work. But unlike those poor call center slaves, I don't get call after call. And while a good number of calls last an hour or more, many end in just a few minutes. So, even among those of us who know how to bring in good money per hour, I don't personally know anyone who makes $100k off phone sex alone. And it's not as though we can go out partying with the money while we're not on the phone. In order to make the money, we have to dedicate the same hours anyone else does to a job, making ourselves availabel for when the phone rings.

Emancipation, the Ultimate Punishment

It’s an eventual fact for even the best of Mistresses that there are sometimes pets who challenge authority. This isn’t always a bad thing. There are certainly Mistresses who enjoy the continual struggle to break and re-break a bratty or out of control pet like an incorrectly set bone. I think it’s fair to say though, that this type of relationship is more about feeding the desire for punishment or drama than about true submission.

I’m not one of those Mistresses who enjoy a good fight.

I recently had a slave whose lack of self-control often led him to email without taking time to think about what he was saying. Each week, his need for attention grew, and on a typical day I would check in to find either one or two email messages from him.

We had a bit of a routine, he and I. I

It’s an eventual fact of even the best of Mistresses’ work that there are sometimes pets who challenge authority. This isn’t always a bad thing. There are certainly Mistresses who enjoy the continual struggle to break and re-break a bratty or out of control pet like an incorrectly set bone. I think it’s fair to say though, that this type of relationship is more about feeding the desire for punishment or drama than about true submission.

I’m not one of those Mistresses.

I recently had a slave whose lack of self-control often led him to email without taking time to think about what he was saying. Each week, his need for attention grew, and on a typical day I would check in to find either one or two email messages from him.

We had a bit of a routine, he and I. On even numbered days, I would receive two notes. The first would be a proclamation of love and devotion and a request for a session. The second letter, coming a few hours after the first, would explain how distraught he was while waiting for my response. In it, he would pour out his angst with many capital letters before ending with the words “I can’t take this anymore, I’m through!” I saw this closing line so often, it may have been his email signature. I’m not sure.

On odd numbered days, he had his calendar set to “apologize” and I would receive remorseful letters of regret and atonement.

For my part, I would lecture him for the silly pet he is, reprimand him for getting his panties in a twist, and punish him for expecting me to wait by the computer for his email. I warned him to respect my free time.

Eventually, his histrionics, and my lack of firm enough limits, led him to cross the line from self-recriminating protestations of quitting, to an attack directed at me. “You should give me more direction,” he said, as though he were paying for daily training. He even dared to tell me “I guess you just can’t handle a slave who is so devoted.”

Of course, a Dominatrix can’t tolerate such disrespect and still maintain her control over the slave, but to mete out punishment for insolence through email on a near daily basis would simply be giving him the service I normally sell. Though he’d been a consistent and well-paying caller, he wasn’t paying me for all that.

The only way I could win this negotiation was to be willing to walk away from the table. After all, it's the person who doesn’t care who holds all the cards. If I was desperate to keep the caller, and his money, he had power over me. That wouldn’t do, no would it?

I told him to find another Domme.

It’s been a month, and he’s back now, willing to behave and pay a penalty fee for having wasted my time. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll take him back. We’ll see.

One last note... I have a former pet who sometimes reads this blog, the following is a message to him, but the rest of you may feel free to eavesdrop.

Oil-man: For the record, no, this post is not about you. I will not consider taking your calls. There are a few things in this world your money can’t buy, my phone number is one of them.

Oh, and I bought the hybrid, bitch. :p,

A Fetish Explained

OK, now I can see what turns guys on about it.

Watch and see...

Exposing the Hypocrites

Since my last post (ok, rant) about the Purity Balls, I've been seething a bit. I thought about all the sexism and hypocrisy of religious zealots, which started me thinking about the sexism and hypocrisy of so many others.

You see, I speak to these freaky bastards all the time. Especially on the really kinky calls. I've had politicians, judges, religious leaders, and leaders of industry call me from across the world to spank it while I tell them sordid stories about my imaginary antics.

Now, I'm not one to rain on anyone's orgasm, but some of these people are real pieces of work. It takes a real shit to argue against same sex marriage, or even civil unions, when you're a crossdresser and part time cocksucker, even if it's only in fantasy. It's a real asshole who'll say women should be virgins on their wedding day, while he pays prostitutes to play with him. And it particularly chaps my ass to hear anyone preach about the sanctity of marriage while spending thousands of dollars from his married income while talking to me each night, and his wife hasn't seen him at bedtime in weeks.

It all comes down to people pretending to be what they're not for the sake of what they think other people want to see and hear. And the reason they care about other people's opinions usually boils down to money and how much of it they can get from people who like them. The problem is, most of the others are hiding their own freaky shit anyway, and while you're keeping up appearances for the neighbors, you're also perpetuating the problem.

I've said for a long time that if people were just open and honest about what turns them on, the world would be far better off because we would all be humbled.

This issue has bee bothering me so much it's brought me to a decision that wasn't easy to make. I've decided to expose my caller list.

I realized I have no contract with them, either expressed or implied, which would keep me from listing the real hypocrites who call me. Some of the names you'll recognize, most you won't, but whether they're famous, infamous, or only known to their family and friends, they have all shown me a very different face than they present to the world. Sometimes, the dichotomy is shocking.

Want to know about the Minister who likes to talk about being a sex slave? Or how about the "family values" politician who wants me to be his neighbors 18 year old daughter? There's the actor who loves to talk about his politics but hasn't mentioned how many times he's paid two and three girls at a time to wear cheerleader outfits and then calls me to tell the what to do. Or maybe you happen to know the average joe, pro-life shitheel who hasn't paid his child support, but has the cash to give me a ring for an hour.

I'm gathering my list now, and I'll have it posted in a bit.

Check back soon, and buckle up... it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Father/Daughter Weddings? Gotta Hand It To Christian Values

An article caught my attention and chapped my ass.

Seems there are father daughter "Purity Balls" where little girls are dressed up like brides, or prom queens to go on "dates" with their fathers where they will exchange rinds and vows of chastity (the fathers vow to "cover my daughter as her authority and protection in the area of purity" and be pure in their own lives) before having a first dance with daddy and eating wedding cake.

How sick is this shit?

From the article:

"Randy and Lisa Wilson, parents of seven (five girls), originated the purity ball at their Generations of Light ministry in Colorado Springs in 1998. Their mission is to preserve girls' chastity by building healthy father-daughter relationships."
----

How in the fuck is pretending to marry your dad a healthy father-daughter relationship. Hell, were I come from, it doesn't get much unhealthier than pretending to be Daddy's 10 year old wife and property.

They're only a degree better than the sick fucks who would actually take their daughter's virginity. It's still a father laying claim on his child's body and teaching her that his love for her and her value as a human being is tied to what's between her legs.

Here's a tip to all me evangelical friends out there.. (and I know you're out there, you hypocritical fucks, because I've spoken to you at $3.99 per minute when you mention my blog or others like it) If you want your daughter to save it for marriage, try teaching her that her body, and the care of it, is her own responsibility. Try teaching her that her value lies not in her sexuality, but in her intelligence, her decency, her talent, and her work ethic. Encourage her to be proud of who she is and make her believe a bright future is attainable, so that she doesn't want to risk it all by getting pregnant or sick.

It may not keep her a virgin, but it will be more likely to keep her alive and well and she won't be putting out for the first boy who tells her he loves her and wants to marry her.

This Is Your Call On Crack

I really hate getting calls from men who are drunk or stoned. Having them impaired by both blinding lust and debilitating chemicals seems like such an unsporting advantage.

Besides, a lot of times, it increases desire while decreasing ability. A man who can't cumm but wants to can be an annoyance. Oh sure, it makes for a profitable call. But it's annoying nonetheless.

I Love My Bulk Mail Pen Pals

I just received an email telling me how I could raise ejaculation volume wih the sender's handy dandy new product.

For crying out loud.. how much more do I need to contribute to the world?

Sheesh

This just in..

I have an update on the studly sissy..

He does just want to fuck me! He does! He Does!


{{{Dani does the happy dance while breaking out the lube and the lipstick for the sissy who likes to fuck.}}

Why Can't Men Like That Ever Just Want To Fuck Me?

There's a guy I talk to.. we'll call him Rhonda.. wants to be femme.

He looks like Ralph Fiennes with a built up body. All muscles, and meat, and dreamy green eyes. It makes me want to bang my head against the desk to turn him into a woman.

Wax the eyebrows -*bang*

Orange cover for the beard shadow- *bang*

Shave the chest hair-*bang* *bang* *bang* *bang* *bang**bang* *bang**bang* *bang**bang* *bang*

Speaking of domination

This shit just amuses the hell out of me.

Check it out: http://theduchess.wordpress.com

An Orgasm Isn't The Only Good Feeling You Can Buy From A Phone Whore

"You know I care for you Danielle, but this will be the last time we speak unless you contact me directly. True friendship can't exist when one party is paying for it."

It was about eight years ago a man said those words to me. He'd been calling often, and for extended periods, sometimes intentionally hanging on the line until he fell asleep to the sound of voice as I read mystery novels aloud. While I didn't have any romantic feelings for the man, I was concerned for his middle class income and an apparent penchant for downward spirals into reckless spending.

Not that there was much I could do about it.

I know many would rightly say I contributed to the man's addiction and encouraged him to keep calling. Those people would point out how easy it is to hang up a phone and save him the money. I won't feel harshly toward those accusations, (who could I? I just posed them myself,) I enjoy my own self-rightousness too much to deny it in others. I will, however, defend myself to both my accusers, and my guilty conscience.

I was not the owner of the company I worked for an had no control over who called me, how often, or how much they were permitted to spend. And hanging up on a caller was strictly forbidden.

I had college to pay for, and a small child to raise by myself. I was in no position to risk my job for the sake of someone who's problems began before he spoke with me and would continue after our conversations ended. I couldn't stop his addiction, the best I could do was to discourage him from overextending himself. I did so gently, and in soft terms for the benefit of any monitors who may have been listening. "I want you to take care of yourself so you can keep calling me, babe."

Unfortunately, my concern for his well being, only served to bond him to me more closely, and for three months, his calls increased in frequency and duration. Though he regularly encouraged me to contact him outside of the work line, he accepted my protestations both of loyalty to the company who had hired be, and of the fear of being fired.

I realized it might have been kindest to be cruel, to make him believe, without being overtly rude, that I cared nothing for him and that he'd been foolish to think so. And while it was the truth, I couldn't bring myself to say so. He was obviously in great need of a kind word and warm voice. He'd been recently divorced and his ego needed reassurance before facing the world of romance again. The very fact he thought he was falling in love with a stranger on the phone made me think he needed kindness more than money.

To a point.

Shortly after I realized how deeply he was digging himself, I presented the owner with my case for blocking his calls. "It's easier to get $300 from someone than $3,000 or $30,000."

"The credit company knows what he can afford, they're the ones letting him call," was my boss' dismissive response.

I quickly began looking for another company to work for. Lest you think I'm in some way motivated by honorable sentiments, let me disillusion you. I just figure a man who doesn't mind putting his customers in the poorhouse wouldn't mind screwing me out of a nickel here or a dime there.

I left the company a short time later, but not before my caller had his moment of clarity. I applauded him when he stopped calling, wishing him all the best in the world.

The nest company I worked for limited calls to 30 minutes. Being a busy call center, a caller who tried to get back with the same operator was unlikely to manage it. Serious seeming romance didn't blossom on the phone again for the next few years. Especially as I'd moved into management, taking only occasional calls as a teaching aid.

I'm back on the lines again now, working for a company which caters to a more upscale clientele. Calls are longer and more involved. The women working the lines are all very knowledgeable about sex, fetish, and some psychology. We are fantasy artists and take pride in our work. And we also build relationships with our clients.

For the most part, the callers understand the deal and we work together with mutual respect as we call each other filthy names. But sometimes, every once in a while, there's a guy who imagines himself in love.

Here I'm going to be arrogant and speak on behalf of all my colleagues who take their jobs seriously and do an exceptional job.

When you call us, it's important to understand that our job is not simply to make you orgasm.. it's to make you feel good. If it takes a bit of stroking your ego along with stroking your cocks, we'll do it. Enjoy the rush of the compliment when you receive it, but don't consider it too highly as proof of our esteem.

You know we won't give you our addresses and home phone numbers, please understand that these aren't the only steps we take to protect out identities. The vast majority of us use fake names, and more savvy operators will never admit to having children, pets, spouses, or sometimes even neighbors. To ward off the extreme calls, we don't admit to having anyone or anything we wouldn't want to talk about having sex with.

Since we can't admit to where we live or who we know, there are many more things we can't discuss with you. The tornado which ripped through our garage will go unmentioned, for fear you could google the news story and find out who we are. A beloved friend with a unique career will go unmentioned for the same reason. These are just a few examples of how we keep barriers between us.

With all these precautions we take, it's simply not possibly for you to know who we are. What you think you know about our interests or activities are likely lies to make us fit your idea of the perfect companion.

We research different hobbies, areas, and interests, all so we can speak with you intelligently and become your prefect women. We collect stories of other people's adventures to share with you as if we'd experienced them first hand. In this way, a man who rides in the rodeo can hear how I broke my collarbone while learning to barrel race, even though the accident actually happened to another caller.

Through the phone we are courtesans, we are geishas, we are chameleon enchantresses, but we are not ourselves.

If, during the call, you believe we love you, we've done our job. But just like at the movies, when the curtain goes up, it's time to stop suspending your disbelief and remember that it was an illusion.

Enjoy the call. Embrace the feeling while you have it. But don't imagine you love us or we you. You have no idea who we are.

Busy, Busy, Busy

I've taken a position with a new company, specializing in domination and it's kept me very busy.

You'd be amazed how many men need to be tormented, beaten, restrained, and humiliated in preparation for holidays with the family.

Of Sex and Science

A new study has determined that there is no firm link between promiscuity and sexually transmitted diseases. They point to the fact that nations with the highest rates of HIV/AIDS are not the nations with the highest rates of promiscuity.

Sometimes, scientists fucking kill me. I don’t know what part if "sexually transmitted" is confusing.

Don’t get me wrong, in general, I love them. I question everything, have the hots for Jamie and Adam on Mythbusters (I know, they’re not actually scientists,) and become utterly provoked when pseudo-scientists like ghost hunters claim what they do is science though they’ve clearly never heard the words "scientific method."

But to deny that promiscuity has any correlation to sexually transmitted disease defies reason. Any fool knows, if you continue to dip from the well, eventually, you’ll pull up the goldfish that’s been down there.

Their reasoning takes into account only one factor contributing to the spread of one STD. The scientists themselves displayed a lack of cultural understanding when they said they expected to see the most promiscuous behavior in regions like Africa where the virus is most concentrated.

Africa... where so many people are devout Muslims or Christians. This is where they expected the highest concentration of promiscuity.

Morons.

Of course the disease is spreading rapidly when a good potion of the continent had HIV before we knew how to prevent it and few people could afford condoms once we understood they protection they afford.

Nowadays, every African woman who sleeps with a single man, and make no mistake, that’s the average number of partners for an African woman, has a fifty-fifty chance of contracting the disease. And every single woman who has the virus can give birth and pass it down to more than one child before she dies. It’s amazing there are any Africans left, with or without promiscuity.
They may as well have said "there are more dark people in Africa than in Europe, ergo, sleeping with dark people has no direct effect on the outcome of your potential offspring’s skin tone." It makes about as much sense.

It’s simply not possible to determine the effect of promiscuity on the spread of disease without removing other factors which would skew the results. No credible scientist would run such a study and call the results conclusive. I’m confidant when the test subjects are all from a relatively equal socioeconomic class and all have equal access to condoms, you’ll find sexually transmitted disease is more prevalent in the more promiscuous population.

And lest you think condom use is the single difference in the spread of disease, and promiscuity may be dismissed as a factor, you should understand condoms do not prevent all STD’s and won’t prevent any at all if improperly used. Many people are not aware of the basics principles of condom use for disease prevention and either don’t use condoms for the entire duration of all sexual encounters or don’t use condoms and dental dams during oral sex.

Ok, so why am I getting all worked up about this? Well, for one, I like to beat dead horses, and this bastard’s still needs one last kick. But mostly because the claims of this study are dangerous. They promote a false sense of security. And the people most at risk are the ones we should be most passionate about protecting. They are the young, who have more time and drive to be promiscuous and less experience discerning when something is nonsense.
I’m pissed because I have children, who will one day want to have sex, and I will have to combat the dangerous misinformation coming from people who, at first blush, seem to be experts.

200 years ago, everyone knew the prostitute down in the red light district was going to die of the pox before the holy housewife. It took modern fucking science to deny what common sense has always known.

You can find an article on the study I'm bitching about here.

Put the Ginger Root Down and Back Away Slowly

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Happy Figging Halloween

Once again, I stop by my blog to discover that easily 15% of my visitors are looking for information on figging. Well Happy Halloween my burning-bottomed little kinksters! Did you realize there were so many of you?

You should all start a club. Hell, maybe I'll start a club for you... If you're nice. But first, you'll have to come out of the closet, or rather, the spice cupboard, and tell me it's what you really, really want.

You can be the Fig-kateers.

Sing the song with me, will you?
G-I-N... Anyone up for a figging?
G-E-R... Are you ready for the burn?
A-S-S-E-D

(I realize many of my readers aren't from America and may not understand the reference to the Mickey Mouse Club, but please don't feel left out. You'd be amazed by how many Americans don't get my jokes either.)

Wow, how many times in life will I get to bring Mickey Mouse and figging into the same conversation, huh? It's days like these that make me adore being literate.

Well, Happy Halloween everybody. And to my pagan friends, Happy Samhain.

I'm going to go wrap myself in seaweed paper, shove a ginger finger up my derriere and tell everyone I'm dressed as sushi.

Sexy Skirt

Me: Hi, this is Lara, who's this?

Him: What kind of skirt are you wearing?

Me: Poodle.

Him: Poodle?

Me: Yes, poodle.

Him: What do you mean, poodle?

Me: I mean I'm wearing a poodle skirt. It's a skirt... with a poodle.

Him: Like one of those old fashioned things?

Me: Yes, just like one of those old fashioned things.

Him: You're not really wearing a skirt are you?

Me: How did you guess?

Him: {{{{Click}}}}

(Next time I'll tell him it's a grass skirt and see if I fare any better.)

Figging revisited

I’ve recently added this nifty little feature to my blog which allows me to see where people are visiting me from both geologically (Hellooooooo Dubai!) and virtually, as in "what link did you follow to find me?" Turns out a disproportionate number of you little kinkmeisters come to me after you’ve googled the word “figging.”

Oh yeah, you know who you are.

Well, as a public service for my lovely burn-bottomed readers, I thought I’d go into it in a little more detail.


First, some safety tips.

1) Peel it. Smooth it down, take off the rough patches and knobbly bits, and round the end. Inserting the ginger should burn, not scrape.

2) Wash the damned thing! We all know you shouldn’t be eating fruits and vegetables without giving them a rinse, do you really think it’s advisable to shove one up your ass, pesticides and all? You’ll also need to clear away any peelings still clinging to the root.

3) Use a root large enough not to slip in and disappear. This really isn’t anything you want to take to the emergency room.

4) Don’t leave it in for extended periods. While the burning begins to diminish in ten to twenty minutes, depending on freshness, the root is still capable of causing irritation.

5) Cut an indentation around the root for the rectum to close around, keeping the ginger in place. Put the indentation far enough from one end to afford you a small handle or base when the ginger is in the rectum. (Like a butt-plug.)

6) While some people have used ginger in the vagina, others claim vaginal secretions are too acidic to combine safely with the juices of the ginger. You’ve been warned.

7) Wash you hands after touching the ginger. Avoid touching your face until you do so as the juice from the ginger will burn your eyes, nose, and mouth.

8) To avoid unexpected and unwanted after-effects, begin by testing it for a few seconds, increasing to a few minutes, checking for signs of prolonged irritation between inseertions.

Now for some tips and tricks:

Some enthusiasts recommend a slice of ginger berifly placed on the clitoris for added fun.

The peeled ginger requires no lubricant. Lubricant creates a barrier between the ginger and the rectum, diminishing it’s effect. The juices of the ginger may be used as a natural, though less effective lubricant. Some preliminary fingering may be required to relax the rectum prior to insertion.

Fresh ginger has a stronger effect than older ginger.

To increase the effect of older ginger, allowed it to age in a sealed bag in the refrigerator until it begins to develop a mold. Peel and use as normal.

For reviews of personal experiences with figging, check out:

http://www.agirlwitha.com/content/2004/07/ginger_fingers.php

or

http://sinerator.blogspot.com/2006/04/figging.html