December 15, 2001
All Sexual Fun Abandon, Ye Who Dial In
Round in a circle by that road we went,
Speaking much more, which I do not repeat;
We came unto the point where the descent is...
Canto VI, The Inferno, Dante Alighieri
In order to make any kind of living as a phone slut, you can't be priss or a prima donna. The more you limit the types of calls you'll take, the more you limit your income potential and the fantasy boundaries of your johns. It's also a hassle for dispatchers. If you have 25 girls logged on and you have to keep track of which calls Jane won't take and which ones Sally won't take - it's a potential nightmare.
That said, the whole dispatcher gig centers around figuring out which girl to pair with which john, so tricky as it may be, they did sign on for the tour.
But, let's just say that a priss or a prima donna isn't going to make you the apple of anyone's eye. Come to think of it, I guess that's true in all business.
So, a good slut is always hesitant to refuse a john or a type of john. It's like running a bakery and saying you won't make carrot cake. Well, okay, maybe that's fine, you can still sell other kinds of cake. But, then if you say, no cheesecake or angel-food either, and only certain types of chocolate, well, you're just not going to have much of a market.
But, let's face it. I'm not baking cake. I'm talking to men on the phone about sex and it turns out even I have limits.
I can't do snuff.
Well, that's not entirely true. I can handle minor snuff. I can handle the guy who just wants to fuck something so hard it kills it. I can handle the guy who has a basic run of the mill strangulation fantasy. Those are primal and twisted, but they don't freak me out. There is a certain crime-of-passion element to them that I almost understand the appeal of.
Brutal, vicious, premeditated snuff does freak me, though. I can't listen to some guy tell me how he wants to break in and rape people and kill them. To cut them or mutilate them. It's just too disturbing to play with. I think most people have a sexual darkside, but mine just isn't that…subterranean.
So, Virg Hardcore is a john I won't be speaking to again.
Virg had called a few times before today. Suffice to say, he's a sick fuck, but no more so than some others. Let's face it, a lot of these guys have issues, and my philosophy is that I'd rather have them tell me about it then take a hostage and climb a bell tower with an AK-47. I also try very hard not to pass judgment on anyone else's kink.
We started out talking about underage girls in a non-consent format. No problem. Lots of people have rape fantasies - hell *I* have rape fantasies. Then, over the course of a couple phone calls, he got progressively sinister - progressively malevolent in his fantasies. He began talking about breaking into convents and raping nuns with their own rosaries. Serial killer-level desecration rape and murder. About abducting people taking them out to cabins in the woods and committing acts that I'm not going to repeat in this journal. Let's just say it was important for him to be in an isolated location so no one could hear them scream.
Folks, there is a line in each of us. Welcome to mine.
Phone Sex by Doxy at 01:01 AM | permalink | talkback (0)
