Dominatrix Mommy Blogger and Women’s Sexual Wellness Consultant
Bed Time Gone Bad
Sometimes when clients are prepping for a visit, or just too far away to see me, I do phone sessions with them so they can keep up their training and I can pay for shoes. I don’t do this nearly as much as I used to because my alone time is so limited at this point. 8pm before kids is when you are just heading out to the bars, clubs and… I can’t even remember where we used to go. I do seem to remember that there were other adults there. 8pm after kids? That’s when you are passing out on the couch thinking about having sex with your hunky tired husband, but deciding wine and tv might be a better option.
And if I don’t have the energy to have The Sex with The Mr? Then I certainly don’t want to talk to some needy submissive stranger about all the ways he would like to serve me, but won’t be able to as soon as his erection subsides.
But some people I like, those generally being the ones that continue to serve me once their erection subsides. And those who buy me shoes. Last night I had a phone session scheduled with one of those people.
Monkey has been going down easily at 8pm, and dead asleep by 8:30, so I figured telling my client to sit by the phone in his panties and wait for me to call between 8 and 9pm would be a safe bet. Enough waiting time to entertain him, not enough to have him worry that he’s been forgotten.
Monkey played along heading straight into his own bed at 8pm. At 8:15 he was singing a song. At 8:30 he was having a heated debate with … something. At 8:45 things seemed to be settling down. By 9:10? It was quiet.
I grabbed a glass of wine and headed into my bedroom to sit by the monitor and listen for movement from the rebel forces while instructing my now panicking client on proper behavior between now and our time together.
We had a quick catch up before I started listing the ways in which he should prepare.
Wear panties every day.
No orgasms except on Sundays.
Prepare your hole to be used.
I start interrogating him about his recent rope bondage class.
Mommy. I get in bed with you.
Monkey has somehow silently beamed himself from his bed to my door. Despite the fact that I can clearly hear the white noise machine coming over the monitor that I’m sitting right next to, I didn’t hear a peep, a creak, nor a knocked over toy from him.
Monkey is, apparently, a Ninja.
I pretend to listen intently to my slaves retelling of his class, not a detail of which I can remember, because the only thing I could hear at that point was my brain saying OH My FUCKING Damnit. And the sound of an impending brain aneurysm.
I picked Monkey up and slide him under the covers.
Sultry Dominatrix Voice: Interesting. How did that make you feel?
Whispering Mommy Voice: No Monkey, this isn’t Grandma.
Screaming Internal Voice: Fuuuuuu….! I have 5 more minutes booked with slave!
I ran to the living room and told slave to sit and think about it for a minute. Set the phone down with the mic pointed away from the bedroom.
Head to the bedroom.
Head back to the phone and set a book between the phone and the bedroom. Because that will TOTALLY help block the sound of Monkey screaming I wanna talk to granmmmmaaaaaa!
In the end, Monkey was finally convinced that I was not talking to Grandma without him. Slave was convinced, I think, that he did such a good job of waiting that I made him do it again. I was convinced I should not try these types of phone consultations unless Daddy is home to run interference.
Even in exchange for shoes.
I’m kidding. He paid me cash. I then used the cash to buy shoes.