adame for the attention you crave. 'Doing whatever You want,' is not an adequate response.

5/23/2009 1:12:43 PM: I loathe munches for being so…egalitarian. I suppose there’s some value to allowing novices (no force in nature can get me to use the word “newbie”) to see that there are lots of others just as twisted and depraved as they around, and that they’re Just Like You and Me, but boy, do I detest having to suppress the withering hauteur that is so integral a part of my personality, to smile delightedly when the misshapen and dim dare to address me as an equal.

I’ve realized, though, that there’s something I detest even more: BDSM Workshops.

Here we pretend that this stuff is really complicated, or compare paraphernalia from different manufacturers, or, worst yet, discuss particular kinds of knots.

In my view, there is nothing in the world more tedious than talking about knots, and their relative advantages. The discussion is nearly always led by some laconic, deep-voiced dominant man with a wispy gray beard, ponytail, and bald spot who calls himself something like Master Prometheus and has a knife — with which he could feed, clothe, and rebuild a small American city if he had to — in a little holster on his hip. If he has a slave girl, you can bet she’ll have a name out of Greek mythology too, and breasts far droopier than they ought to be at her age. In many cases, his wallet is secured by a chain. In all cases, every last one, he is a pompous bore.

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5/23/2009 5:48:32 AM: Again it happens! I just had a long, promising IM exchange with a Brooklyn firefighter who seemed to recognize Madame as the crème de la crème, TV domme-wise. But when advised that he would need, before we discussed a real-time meeting, to demonstrate his good faith by offering Madame an Amazon gift card, he said that my request corroborated my reputation on Collarme for being all bark and no bite at best and a fraud at worst.

This barely 12 hours after I got burned yet again, this time by an apparently well educated Connecticut financier (fellow dommes, take note: 
ianmn9999@yahoo.com, Ian McAnn) who eagerly jumped through all the hoops, who ticked all the boxes, who seemed not only appropriately worshipful, but also had that most desirable quality of submissives – the understanding that Madame might wish to be compensated for her time.

We’d spoken of meeting sometime soon, but his (understandable!) hotness to trot was such that he implored Madame to accommodate him immediately, last night. With only a couple hours’ notice, I cancelled a long-standing dinner date with friends, incurring their considerable displeasure. And then, of course, he failed either to materialize or even to advise Madame of his change of heart. And the token Amazon gift card he’d promised to have sent as a prerequisite to our discussing an actual date? No trace.

The world is full of craven little submissive jerkoffs who lose their nerve at the last minute, and I’m disreputable, all bark and no bite, for wanting to protect myself from them.

In view of the prevalence of such jerkoffs, I will note in closing what a pleasure it is to deal with one such as the young sailor who calls himself funkleroy here. A boy of his word, a boy of whom all America can be proud!

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5/19/2009 12:49:42 PM: I have just been called a fake and ripoff artist by a neckless, simian Guido type from New Jersey who moments earlier had begged to be my slave.

Once having apparently ogled my Collar Me profile and photographs, he’d sent me a message to which I’d responded with a link to some of my videos, by which he was predictably awestruck, and my Yahoo! Messenger identity. 
In Yahoo! Messenger, he assured me of his eagerness to do anything I commanded. I commanded him to address me with the deferential formality I so enjoy, as Madame, but that was apparently too much to ask. As an alternative, he advised of his eagerness to stick a finger up his own ass for my amusement.

Lucky me!

Until recently, I was having half a dozen Y!M chats per day with submissive men who purported to regard me to be the most ravishing creature on whom they’d ever laid eyes, and who wanted nothing more in life than to be my chattel. Pity that something like 95 percent of them presumably started feeling ashamed of themselves within a few hours, and were never heard from anew.

Having been left holding the bag once too often, having invested the last half-hour I ever intended to invest in ascertaining that a particular submissive was a prime candidate for my attention, I declared that I would henceforth devote time and energy to interviewing only those who first demonstrate good faith by getting me an Amazon gift card. (I’m well aware that Collar Me explicitly cautions its subscribers to run like the wind in the face of such a request, but who’s taking care of the dominant in these instances?) Fair’s fair.

In the face of my requiring a demonstration of good faith, a great many prospective worshippers say something like, “How about I do it on, uh, Tuesday, when I, uh, get paid, and we keep talking now?” But the I’ll-gladly-pay-you-Tuesday boys should be trusted exactly as far as the typical financial slave, who claims to yearn to turn his entire fortune over to a dominant.

As far as you can throw a Cadillac Escalade welded to the side of a bank building.

“If you’re unable to afford the Amazon gift card now, little ape,” I advised my neckless simian, “why not contact me when you actually can?” Whereupon, he berated me as a fake and ripoff artist who values money over The Lifestyle.  I surmised that I would have shown myself to be authentic by devoting a portion of my Saturday afternoon to hearing how he’d stuck his thumb up himself “for me.”

The fact is that I’m absolutely authentic. I make no bones whatever about being a horrid, exploitive bitch who’s in it in in equal parts for the money and for the incomparable pleasure of reveling in the power my beauty and intellectual superiority confer; in a great many cases, that admission actually serves to increase my prospective worshipper’s excitement. Nor do I make any bones about my profound lack of interest in the orifices of submissive men. It’s your mind and heart with which I propose to toy, I say over and over again.

Call me a horrid bitch, in other words, but don’t call me fake.

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5/8/2009 2:35:48 AM: Today is my birthday. There's hardly room in my home for me to turn around, as gifts have been pouring in from all over the world. I now officially have enough stockings to open a hosiery store. I've received a gigantic television from one of my worshippers in Dubai, but my favourite gifts are those from boys who I know to be out of work. Their having had to sacrifice to buy Madame a small token of their adoration would make me get all misty if I weren't a heartless bitch. 
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12/7/2008 4:47:22 AM: This just in: 'dominate' is a verb, rather than an adjective. Those who don't know the difference, or who pluralize nouns by adding an s with an apostrophe before it, will be exploited with even greater ruthlessness than I bring to other interactions.