So What Am I Worth?

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Sometimes, when faced with a big task, like a huge mess to clear up or a massive broken sexual subculture to fix, it is impossible to approach the job in a methodical way, piece by piece.

When you move house (which I just have – offline-identity fact collating stalkers) and are sat there with all your belongings in boxes you can’t just start putting everything away one thing after another, because, say, the ropes are all tangled. (Because you don’t store them properly, because – in case you weren’t aware of the fact – in this paragraph *you* are playing the part of *me*.) So you need the scissors to sort them out but they’re in another box, and you just can’t decide whether to put the handcuffs (five pairs – remember) in with the ropes (still tangled) or with the other metal stuff like nipple clamps and panic snaps and padlocks.

So, you see, this is a big job. Not the unpacking - I’ll talk someone into doing that for me. I mean this place. This other place where I live. My other home. Fucking femdomia.

I don’t really have a plan here. I’m just trying. I don’t *know* if when I say I hate the completely PVC encased plasti-dom look I think it should be completely erased from the face of the earth, or if I am just saying I just want my own non-plastic more-natural-fibre based style to be okay too. (Or if I’m just being whiny and insecure about my non-striking physicality.)

But you know, don’t have to decide where everything going to go at the start. Let’s just move the boxes around and see where we get. We might have to take the cage all the way upstairs and then change our minds and bring it back down and put it in the cellar, but hey, there’s a few of us here and I’m sure enough of you are big strong boys.

Obviously most of my belongings are not actually for weird sex. I use these examples only to amuse you because I am feeling generous.

I don’t have a bloody cage.

Although I did once think about buying one.

But, forget that, my point is this. Huge tasks don’t break down neatly. Sometimes it’s chip, chip, chip, a bit at a time. Sometimes you just have to just make things a bit better even if that isn’t perfect. Sometimes trying to be all perfect will get you nowhere at all.

What I am trying to say here is that I still haven’t nailed this thing. This blog. Where I am going here. My point. I don’t have a plan. All I am trying to do is make things better. But I’m not perfect. And my words are not arrows of pure crystalline truth.

I’m just trying to be a wee bit better (i.e. less unbelievably fucking offensive) than everything else in femdom, which isn’t hard, as everything else in femdom is way shitty.

So, disclaimer over, previously on Bitchy Jones’s hysterical woebegone Diary, your idol was talking about prodoms and there was a lot of chat and comment and I realised something. Three things actually – which may contradict each other - and which I want to add here as furthermores to the last post. Which I will do in three more posts because I talk to damn much.

1. Does professional domination make what I do worthless?
I’ve been with guys who I am pretty sure chose to be with me rather than a pro because I was free. It was that simple. For them, I was a better deal. In a lot of nooks of the femdom world paying for it is the default setting for sub men. I was free. What a find. Bargain. Especially if they could talk me into being as kink enabling as a pro, which - as I am somewhat insecure now and was way insecure then - was pretty much possible to do. (I’m not talking about give and take here - I’m talking about persuading me to do things I found dull or offensive and presenting them - within play - as my desires.)

In a world ruled by money where everything has a price then my domination is worthless because I give it away. Or at least to some men. The kind of men who think, whee, here’s a bitch who’s giving it away.

I don’t charge for it because it turns me on. The fact it turns me on means it has less value.

That pisses me off.

*

You don’t have to all rush and say how priceless and fabulous and valued my sexaulity is by the way (not that that wouldn’t be both cool and somewhat hot), you read my journal and that’s enough for me. Although when I look at my stats I do sometimes wonder if I could find a way to charge you all a pound.

Or I could find another way for the cute ones to pay.

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