Mistress Deanna’s big pepper

Image by Curtis Joe Walker.

Today many things happened. I launched vb.ly (more on that in a minute). I got an angry letter — really a signed letter sent via an assistant’s email — from the owner of Good Vibrations telling me all the ways I am wrong. And a dear friend sent me the post that had me reading aloud and LOLing to my distracted but very entertained bedmate (while we both did this cNet interview). It’s a LiveJournal post called Blast From the Past: My What A Big Pepper You Have and it’s so worth reading, especially as we live in a culture obsessed with overlarge penii in all its forms…

Once upon a time kiddies, Aunt Donna was known as “Mistress Deanna.” And if she was in a REALLY bitchy mood, simply as “Goddess.” Anyway, one night Mistress Deanna went to work at the dungeon. Now, for those of you who have never a) worked in or b) visited a dungeon, let me just say that a dungeon is a lot like a college dorm. Meaning: in the movies, college dorms are wild and crazy, filled with hot, towel-clad chicks and hilarious prankster frat boys. In real life however, dorms are pretty quiet, with some kids studying or watching TV in the lounge and average-looking chicks in long, pink terrycloth bathrobes carrying their toothbrushes and shower shoes in little wire baskets. In other words, not like the movies. And not very sexy.

And that’s how it is in a dungeon. In the movies, gorgeous, busty, Faster Pussycat-type vamps beat hot, sweaty, near-naked men into ecstasy, while every inch of the place just oozes sex, sex, sex. In real life, three women watch cable TV and the bouncer plays Nintendo while in the next room a fat, balding man is wearing women’s underwear as the short, pudgy dominatrix dons a hot-pink rubber strap-on and wonders where the man’s wife thinks he is right now.

(…) So I ask the guy what he’s looking for, and he says, and I quote, “I want you to wear a really big strap-on and insult the size of my penis.”

Huh? That’s it? I ask, unbelieving. Yes, he assures me, a little verbal humiliation is all he needs, thank you.

I leave the room, laughing to myself. This is going to be the easiest money I ever made! In the Supply Room, I rummage through the box of dildos, whistling happily, finally selecting the one the other ladies refer to as the Brown Bomber. This sucker’s a foot long and weighs a couple of pounds. It’s downright creepy. So anyway, I stride confidently back into the room wearing this ridiculously large rubber cock, ready to coast through an hour of insults. “Okay worm,” I snarled to the poor, now-naked slob, his back to me in a corner. “Let me see your puny little pecker!”

And then he turned around.

“Excuse me,” I said smoothly, and exited. (…read more, bitchgoddessdm.livejournal.com, thanks netik!)