Why Tuesdays are Worse than Mondays in my World: Curse of the Evil Lady.

Ok. So.. if you're here to subject yourself to an entertaining piece of literature in the form of an e-mail of someone getting paid THREE times as me (at least) and "trains" me how to do my job here it goes:

Good morning
On ____________ Sheet, ____ Inventory, and __________Report must match before you start keying for the next week. This mean you need to set down with the _____ people before you start your current week. Your _____Inventory must match your ____ Inventory Sheet and ___ Report, I will like to see this report before any site start keying for the next week. So you can call or email me when you are finishing with your reports. Please put paperwork in daily, as I go thru the report I am seeing mistake, so please organize your day, so you can have time to input CFA. Thank for what all you'll do. Your work is very appreciated.


I received the above e-mail this morning. Before this woman commenced to make my day a living hell. I'm a bit blessed, for now she's not there every day. She only comes in on Tuesdays anymore (and the last hour before I leave on Monday, which is also it's own form of hell).

I had the same reaction: Wowwwwwwww.

Followed by: How the HELL is this the woman I answer to?!?!?!

So anyways... I had it out with this woman today. It's frustrating enough that I'm teaching her how to use her own program and that I'm formulating reports she's taking credit for but then today, today she threw down.

Her: "Why you doing it like this?"
Me: "Because that's how I was told to do it."
Her, incredulously: "Who told you to do it that way????"
Me: "You."

I asked many times when she told me, ARE YOU SURE you want it this way, because it doesn't make sense for this and that reason... There were witnesses. Some even stepped forward today. I'm sorry, she was wrong and I put that in her face when she tried to dump it in my lap. So we'll see what the outcome of that will be in the future.

Honestly, I SO would rather deal with the mob.

Sorry this doesn't have fetish, porn, sex, or anything of that nature in it. I'm boring.

Morals? Where did these come from???

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Another Day, Another Shoot at Kink.

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I was asked an interesting question...

He wondered if I would still be involved in the lifestyle if I hadn't lost my father at such a young age. (He died a week before my 5th birthday. Drunk driving accident. Don't do it, folks. You become a deadly weapon when you toy with even buzzed driving).

This was my response:

A very good question.

The short answer is yes.

I would probably not have the Daddy/LG attraction as much as I do. I wouldn't have missed out on that relationship, causing a void in my past that I now try to exorcise through ageplay and with my penchant for Daddy Doms, rather than simply sadistic tops or dominants.

I was, however, born a spanko. I got turned on from watching spanking scenes in cartoons as far back as my toddler years. I would read and reread passages from stories where the main character, a child my age, would receive some sort of corporal punishment as a consequence of foolish actions. Of course I didn't know what it was at the time-- it just felt like my tummy feels when I went on a roller coaster. But I liked it.Same thing when someone was whipped. I'm preconditioned to get wet from this stuff.

Gay men and women were considered psychologically unsound 10 years ago for their sexual proclivities. People thought that some event in their past caused them to suddenly shift their sexual preference. Now we know it is mostly biological. Same with me. And hopefully that idea too can begin to be accepted... The idea that I simply can't help myself. I am what I am, I was born that way.

I would've found this lifestyle no matter if my father passed on or not. I would've came in a spanko and still would've evolved as I experienced new things-- such as rope. Ten would still be Ten.


I'd like to hear some comments from the peanut gallery. Is your kink biological or psychological and why?

The History of Ten

Ten was born prior to my first Playa. Since it’s also a Playa name, that is kind of cheating… you’re supposed to get your Playa name –ON- the Playa. But meh, petty details.

I had a very different life then—collar and ownership and all. I literally belonged to someone else. So yes, it was true, those who said it was a phase.

The man who owned me named me. Slave 10. The number. Not just because that was all I was. But because I was his perfect 10.

We’re different people now. But I’m still Ten. I’m not a number, and not just someone’s Perfect 10. The word is now personified into the person you see before you today. The person who came to Playa del Fuego and left a changed woman. Who took the collar off, but still remains active in the BDSM community. Because that’s who I am now.

You ask about BDSM? As a “community”? Those who aren’t a part of it will never know how strong we really are. A BDSM “community”—it’s a hard concept for those who think it’s all about beating the snot out of people for sexual gratification. But I assure you, I’ve never felt more a part of something, more supported, and more self-aware before I found my kinky chosen family.

I never fit in anywhere. I never belonged. High school, college, even with those of similar age in the workplace… I was always different. I mean, I got along well enough, I had my fun. But never fit in. Never got let in.

Now. I know what community is. My first chosen “home” where I could be me (Ten) was Dressing for Pleasure’s The Crawlspace. Master Ed and Karen took us in and accepted us as family that very first night. I learned so much there, about different fetishes and people and statuses--- and about uniting under one flag.

It was there that I met Firefly who would take me to my first “big event”: Black Phoenix’s Winter Solstice. It was a sleep-away event where I stayed in a hotel and attended classes during the day. I met soooo many people. And it became apparent that people accepted me, as Ten. The person who I had to hide from others. That I wasn’t strange, crazy, or a burden.

Since then, Ten has attended many events. And Ten has spilled over to daily life. I introduce myself as Ten to most anyone new I meet. I am called “Ten” by both of my roommates, the kinkster and the ‘nilla both. Few people know me by my old name anymore. Those I still talk to from my old life (not the ones that simply keep tabs through Myspace and Facebook status updates), know about my lifestyle… and while they may not want to know details, they accept me as Ten as well, even if they call me by my given name.

Which is why I don’t hesitate anymore in declaring that name dead. While I’m not legally changing my name, please note, that if anyone ever asks if “Ten” is my real name, I will now say, "Yes" emphatically.

A Day in the Life: My first Porn Shoot

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BOOKED!

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