Trusting your Instincts

You can sometimes tell when a client is going to be bad news. You get a feeling. Something in the way they speak. Something in the way they don’t fully understand your questions, don’t answer clearly. I don’t think this is due to language barriers, sometimes it is hard to communicate what my service is to someone with minimal English. Usually goes something like this.

Caller: What service do you provide?

Me: Strap on and domination

Caller: What is that?

Me: I fuck you in the bum.

Caller: In your bum?

Me: No, YOUR bum.

Caller: How do you do that?

Me: With a small or large fake penis. In your bum. Your ass.

Caller: Oh, ok. Sorry. No I don’t want that.

Endcall.

But these people are genuinely confused and looking for something else from another type of worker. They are not bad clients, just a little lost in the system.

But the other clients the ones that think they can barter with you, or ask you intimate questions over the phone in your lobby. They are the ones you just want to smack.

This morning I received a call. The man spoke softly with a slight accent. He asked me if he could come over in at 11am. It was 10:48. I told him he could come over at 12pm and that I need an hours notice to book. He then asked if I did CIM, I said no and hung up. At 1 he calls me back looking to book. I decide I can work through this after he tells me he is looking for strap on. And give him my address.

I had smoked a little pot earlier and it usually makes me more paranoid about clients. Generally my paranoia is well founded and I should relearn how to listen to it. But I thought I would be able to work through this potential client and so went to get ready.

He shows up and is nothing but trouble. Calls me from the lobby. Gets to my apartment. Wants to fuck MY ass. Wants to pay me less and then what I ask and is looking around my house to see if I’m alone. WTF. I very quietly ask him to leave. Best to stop this before it gets messy.

Crunch

An adorable 21 year old shows up at my apartment last night. Nice, clean white collar shirt, black pants and shiny shoes. Big, beautiful brown eyes.

My first ball busting client!

I pinch his testicles in an old metal nutcracker I found at a second hand store and start lightly tapping his nuts with my hand. The nutcracker attaches like a tight ring around the cock and underside of the balls, the handle allows me to manipulate his sack, pulling it, twisting it around presenting it to me for easier access.

He is hard already. Most people will cringe, moan and probably lose their wood if you make hard contact with their balls. But not guys into ball busting, its beautiful to watch them tense up and their dicks get harder and harder with every smack.

I start slapping them open handed. He is on his back and I twist the nutcracker back and forth to give me access to the left nut, then the right. Earlier, when I asked him how he took his ball busting he responded, 'however I wanted, punches, kicks, kneeing'. So I knew this little slaphappy ordeal was just the beginning.

Its in these moments where I find I have to be extra carfeul about what I'm doing to people. When we start crossing a line of vanilla to kinky, to pretty intense I get a little paranoid. I know people know their limits, but those limits can be all over the place and really the sweet little girl in me doesn't actually want anyone to be upset. So I have to hit them in the balls just the way they like it.

I stood over him and pin his cock to his leg with the point of my heel. I'm wearing big black stilettos with a shark toe, the are strictly bedroom heels I never take them out of the house, at least if I expect to remain vertical for any amount of time. I stuff my shark toes into his balls and then start kicking him, increasing my force with every kick.

To finish him off I stand him up, spread his legs and then position my knee directly under his sack. I give him five hearty knees to the groin and then send him on his way.

I guess I'm now a ball busting feminist.

He will be back, next time I get to fuck his cherry ass!

Charms, 2009 by Jason Cantoro

Work is super slow this week, 1 cancellation, 1 reschedule, 0 calls. I blame the weather, everyone seems to be in a pretty tense mood. I was so bored today I washed the floors of my apartment (for the first time in 4 months).

The reason behind Yod's cuddliness became apparent last night when he told me he had been feeling triggered lately due to body pains and housing drama at the home front. I feel really torn on the issue of being an emotional support and safe house. Cuddles, food, safe space are all good, but not being able to regulate my work/personal space gets slightly difficult for me when I suddenly have a boyfriend hanging around the apartment when I'm supposed to be 'working'.

Having a proper work schedule like 9-5 is great when you can come home to your siggy other and shoot the shit until you both fall asleep ready for your next day at work. But my work is all over the place. I get calls at 10am, I get calls at 10pm. If I had another bedroom I would just stick Yod in there until I was finished. Unfortunately I have a one bedroom closet and therefore either need to kick him out while taking a late night client, or simply cancel the call.

Having a boyfriend is strange.

Not my cup of tea

I hate morning client calls. But even worst than morning appointments, are the ones that cancel on you. You are already awake, then you get the text. Sorry Won’t Be able to make it. Bleh. You woke up early and you don’t get paid.

Yod slept over. He was extra cuddly last night. Maybe it was because I had told him that I went on a dinner date with a guy. Or maybe it was because of that 5 hour fuck session we had the day before. I was restless. Slept badly and woke up cranky. I had to kick Yod out before my client came at 10am. When the client canceled at 9am I invited him to sleep a little longer.

When I’m cranky I have no patience for this man. It appears that everything he does is wrong. He does not move around my apartment with confidence. I feel like his mother, explaining how to mop up spilt liquids on the carpet, that the shower curtain stays inside the shower, etc. He made me tea. But he didn’t clean the teapot out and there was old tea from last night. He put cream inside it instead of milk, it was decaffeinated. Who drinks decaf at 10am?

This is the aspect of my relationship with Yod that I hate the most. The mundane part of my day I just want to keep to myself. By inviting him into my life, to sleep over, to stay that extra hour, I’m allowing him to creep ever more into my world. It’s not fair to him that I’m a cranky bitch in the morning, or that he doesn’t know how to make my tea right.

But dammit if he thinks there is any future in all this, he will learn how to pour me a proper cup of tea.