Strumpetversary

This month (the 6th, in fact) marks the one year anniversary of this blog.

In that same respect, it marks a year that I have been your ever faithful Phone Strumpet.

What a crazy year it has been. It feels like every week, I am learning more and more about fetishes and kinks, and not a month goes by that I’m not wishing Brain Bleach had been invented already.

In twelve months, I have made 13 entries. This is pathetic. But to be fair, I really have a hard time coming up with new entry ideas for my clients. They fall into certain categories, which you can only talk about so much. I mean, you’ve seen one Trans Mommy in High Heels Diapering her Little Bitch Boy blog entry, you’ve seen them all.

I find it intriguing that this weekend, I’ve gotten two clients that I spoke to right at the beginning of my Strumpet life, and then never got again. There is a very real reason for this, as I managed to royally piss them both off straight off the bat.

The Strumpet Is In

Hey, remember me? Your friendly neighborhood Phone Strumpet has returned.

No, I didn’t die. Didn’t quit, or get fired (heavens forefend). Didn’t catch a communicable disease from unprotected Strumpeting.

Unfortunately, there was a tragedy in my family. Small in comparison to most, but still painful, and which led to no blogging for awhile.

Trauma happens in life. Every person reacts differently, but what really and truly matters is that you have someone to talk about it with. A good friend, a hairdresser, a bartender, a local priest, your cat Mrs. Fluffykins who eats at the table with you and picks out your wardrobe.

Or, if you’re so inclined, your friendly neighborhood Doctor Strumpet.

I knew before taking this job that there were gentlemen out there who called Strumpet lines solely to talk. I didn’t know what they called to talk about specifically, but I was aware that there are terribly lonely souls out there who have no one in their life to talk to. Whether they want to discuss their sexual proclivities or a hot guy they saw at the bar and needed to fantasize about. So they put up their credit card and away we go.

I am always amused by these calls. One of the first calls I ever got was a Dr. Strumpet call. I talked to Mr. John Patent for over 80 minutes, and while we did discuss his sexual history, there was no emphatic agreement involved. I enjoyed talking to him. We discussed my shoe collection in great detail, and he directed me to some sites with fabulous shoes. I only spoke to him one other time, before his girlfriend came home and he had to hang up hilariously fast. I was sad that I never got him again.

Mr. Patent could not live the lifestyle he wanted to live. He’d previously been a very open, bisexual cross dresser. A lively one, at that. Then he met a girl, fell in something or the other, and they moved in together. She knew some things, but not all, and she kept him on a tight leash. So, to compensate, he would call the Strumpets and talk about what he used to do, and wished he still did do. Not quite one of my Closet Cases, but still unfortunate.

Then we have one of my regular clients. This client has really taught me what it means to be Dr. Strumpet. The first time I got John Bob, I sat on the call, trying to figure out exactly what it was he wanted me to say. 40 minutes later, we’d hit the first time frame, and he let me off the phone. Bemused, I made notes about the call and put it out of my head.

The next time he called, the conversation was almost identical to the original, with only a few details changed. And I realized that I was not going to have to speak at all. John Bob became my favorite client.

Mr. Bob is not a Closet Case at all. Or, he thinks he is, but he’s not. What he is is a gentleman very much in love with his fantasy world, and wanting to share it. Because his fantasy involves every single man he comes across finding his ass adorable and wanting a blowjob, there don’t appear to be many people he can discuss this with.

So he calls me! And I “Mmm-hmm” and “Really?” at him, and he just keeps it going. His catch phrase is, “Do I sound like the kind of guy who would do that?” And my standard, Strumpet response (trademark pending) is, “I don’t think that kind of guy sounds like anything specific.”

This is the longest sentence I say while on the phone with him. I’ve written blog entries while on the phone with Mr. Bob. I’ve played long, drawn out games of Ranch Rush, and texted people. He just keeps it going. It doesn’t actually matter what I say.

Dr. Strumpet is not there to voice her opinion. She does not offer sympathy. She doesn’t tell you your life choices are good, or bad. She “Mmm-hmms”. She says things like, “And what did you think about that?” It’s not quite “And how does that make you feel?”, but it’s as close as she can get without sounding sarcastic.

Mr. John Bob is my favorite caller, and Dr. Strumpet is my favorite persona. It’s so easy! I can sit outside and watch my squirrels and wave at my neighbors and not rush away if someone comes within earshot.

I would make a great psychiatrist, don’t you think?

You don’t?

And how does that make you feel?

Happy to Oblige

So, it’s been almost a week since I decided to quit smoking. It’s not about my health, it’s more about the fact that being a Strumpet, while hilarious, does not exactly have me rolling in diamonds.

I am a psychopath when I stop smoking. I scream, I rage, I fling. It just never goes well. I wear a nicotine patch while at my day job, but not one at home. So you can imagine what a pleasant human being I am to be around.

So let’s discuss the Pathetic Fuckers.

When I was first hired as a Strumpet, I was asked if I had any Dominatrix experience. Not professionally, but I was willing to give it a shot. She didn’t put me down for it, but said I would get roll over calls, and if I was comfortable with it, I could sign up for more.

I am not entirely comfortable with the hardcore Candle Wax/Nipple Clamps/Ball Gag calls. I don’t get them often, but on the rare occasion I do, I’m googling rapidly to come up with new and wondrous ways to hurt them. I seemingly do a good job, though.

Not every client who requests a dominant woman wants me to break out the Cock Cage, however. I learned early on that just because they say they want a dominant or submissive strumpet does not mean they have even the slightest inkling about the BDSM way of life. Which is fine with me, because leather was made for pants, not face masks.

Pathetic fuckers are not really interested in having sex with me. Which sounds great on paper, but I don’t get off that easily. These guys want to be humiliated and cuckolded.

This can take several different forms. The most common is having me make fun of the size of their penis. I am always highly amused by these, because I had not realized this was going to be a common request. When I first started receiving these calls, the guys would tell me about their 3- or 4-inch cocks, and I, being the silly supportive lying female that I am, told them that was perfectly acceptable, and why, I’ve been with men that size and it was just fine.

It only took me two clients going, “Um…see…” before I got the picture. And then I realized that with calls like these, I get a glorious luxury unheard of with almost every other client type.

I get to laugh.

Not just laugh. I get to giggle, chuckle, cluck my tongue, and full out belly laugh as they describe their ridiculously small cock. I get to tell them how big my previous boyfriend was, how he could make me come just by showing me his 12-inch cock, and how his cocktail weenie doesn’t even register when he tries to flop around on top of me.

Humiliation/Cuckolding calls are similar to this, but with the added bonus of wanting me to bring other men in to show them what they’re doing wrong. First I get to tell them how pathetic they are, and how if they were real men with big cocks, I wouldn’t have to go find some strong strapping well hung man to fuck my brains out while they’re stuck in the corner/chair/closet watching.

It’s probably not surprising to hear that these guys want me to bring home a black man. Stereotypes. My clients live for them.

The requests vary from client to client, but all of my regular client types come into play here. I’m the Abusive Mommy who makes fun of her son’s small cock. I’m the beard for a Closet Case, and what he really wants is for me to bring a real man home and “make him” suck his cock and/or make him ride the other guy’s cock. Some guys just want to eat the come afterwards, but they can’t come right out and ask for it, they need me to come up with the idea. That assists with the humiliation part, as I especially enjoy telling that kind how pathetic they are.

The best part of these calls is the control factor. As I’ve mentioned before, timing is everything with these guys, and with a humiliation call, I get to say when the call ends. There are limits, of course, I can’t push the guys to pay for a 2 hour call if they initially only request a 5 minute block of time. But there’s something about a guy begging to come while I’m watching the clock only hit the 12 minute mark that makes the control freak in me really sing.

If I want to slap around someone who isn’t a Pathetic Fucker, I have to be sneaky about it. They tell me their kinks (or, more commonly, tell me, “I don’t know, what do you wanna do?”), and I work with them, while throwing in a few comments. I refuse to be a cookie cutter Strumpet. I get to hear those when I’m given threesome calls with the other girls. It’s hard not to crack up while listening to them talk about their sexy lacey bra and panties and how much they love orgies and yes, please fuck me hard while you’ve got two dildos in my ass. Really? You’re not going to put up a fight at all?

I guess I’m just a different type of Strumpet.