Suit up!

I thought it only appropriate that after a few months off from the blog, I perform a Christmas miracle, and write an update. Happiest of whatever holiday you choose, from the Strumpet and her brood.

A dear friend called me to tell me I had slacked off on Strumpet updates. We’ll call her A, since she’s a preacher’s daughter. As a fallen former Catholic school girl, I feel the need for discretion here.

Things have been fairly status quo as of late. Same ol’ same ol’, though the Mommy Fuckers have finally upped their game, and have come out of the wood work.

Today, for example, my first and last call were complete polar opposites. First we had a 21-year old, who barely wanted to give me his name, he was so ready for his cock in my mouth. As I quietly giggled at Yon Casanova’s romancing skills (“Yeah, Mommy, bend over for me. Take this dick.”), I remembered why women tend to go for older men.

Then we had the 90-year old. Now, personally, if you’re still cranking it up at 90 years old, more power to you. Whether single through widowhood, divorce, or general skeeviness, if you’re still getting it up enough to call multiple phone strumpets a day, you deserve some respect. It’s very rad. I do wish you would buy a new hearing aid. Or at least replace the battery in the one you have.

I think my neighbors would appreciate it if you would, as well. I live in a heavily rented area, and I do warn new neighbors they may hear interesting sounds on occasion, but I don’t think anyone expects to hear screams of, “Yes. Please. Just squeeze it. Okay. OKAY. YES, THAT FEELS VERY NICE. VERY. NICE. YES.”

But said elderly gentleman leads me to a discussion of another type of client. Because he is an extremely respectful guy. Asked me up front what terminology I was most comfortable with, including asking for permission to use the word (gasp) “cunt”. He told the dispatcher straight up he wanted someone who likes to “make love”.

Yes, we have clients who want to make lurve.

I like to refer to this group as the Suitors. They call strumpets not just to get off, but to court us. Some guys call pitching tent, these guys call pitching woo.

Now, I love these guys. They tend not to be cheap fucks. They sign up for a good sized block of time up front, which means I can finesse them a shade. These guys genuinely want to get to know their strumpet, learn what makes us tick. Sexually, of course. Rarely do I get to discuss anything else.

Though early on, I did have a fantastic conversation with a client about late 80’s/early 90’s punk. It set me up for three years of disappointment in conversation skills with the gents.

Suitors are also great because they do the majority of the talking. They know exactly what they want to do to a woman, from the tips of her pedicured toes to the soft caresses of her hair. They just want soft moans of encouragement from their paramours, the soft, sweet gentle sounds of lurve making.

One disadvantage to the strumpet game is, we are not allowed to receive gifts. I know self-made strumpets who have received gifts, and some companies had it set it up to where ladies could be sent items from Amazon wishlists and the like. I don’t know if this still happens, and I can understand why my particular company frowns on it. Would you want one of these people gaining access to your home address?

Yes, sit with that a moment. I’ll wait.

However, I had one submissive suitor desperately begging me to let him buy me things. His loophole around the company rule was that he would give me his credit card number, and I could buy myself anything I wanted, as long as it made me happy.

I did poke around at my dispatcher and my boss, both of whom were decidedly clear on the NO front. Still. A diamond tiara would sure come in handy on some of these calls.

If ever I am feeling down about myself for even a moment, I need only to speak to a suitor. I am told how loved I am ad naseum. I have the most beautiful voice they’ve ever heard, which obviously means I am a beautiful person, with a beautiful soul.

A caller who requested a 30-year old spent the entire call throwing endearments at me. I was his “little sweetie”. His “baby girl”. His “sweet girl”. He “threw” me a kiss, complete with “mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah”s. And referred to my nethers as my “sweet little vagina.”

Okay, so he was more creeper than suitor, but you see the pattern here.

Others spend inordinate amounts of time describing how they would kiss me. In front of a fire. On a rug. In a cabin. While softly caressing my face. And dancing with me.

By the time he wanted to touch me anywhere below the waist, we had to run the credit card again.

Woo me, gents. Woo away.

Euphemisms

There are as many euphemisms for “Penis” as there are actual peni in the world.

But you know what term is not acceptable to call your little tootsie roll?

Thingie.

You cannot refer to Junior down there as Thingie, and expect your Strumpet to not laugh at you.

Sorry ‘bout it.

Strumpet Word Association

Given the subject matter of the previous blog entry, it’s only fair that I make this one rather quickly.

It’s a very disturbing thought to realize that the…different… kinds of people you hear about in this blog are actual real life human beings. Walking their dogs, buying their groceries, asking for your phone number.

You think you’ve met a perfectly decent guy. He’s attractive, witty, clever. Knows how to pick out the good apples in the produce section. You would never think to ask, “Hey, by any chance, have you ever fucked a sheep?”

What’s a person to do, in this day and age? You can find out so much about a person with one quick google search. Former girlfriends, criminal background, that weekend in Cabo they swore never to talk about again (It’s not gay if it’s in a threeway!).

But no one updates their status with, “Man, my grandma is looking so hot in that tankini. Mm hmm. Work it.”

So, I’ve come up with a not in the least sure fire way to gauge the level o’ pervert of your significant other, or potential significant other. We’ve all got a little freak in us, that’s what makes us special. But some people push it just a wee bit over the line.

Now, a few rules before we get started. One, this list is not solely for men. Women are huge perverts. Sometimes, women are more open about their proclivities than men are. I’ve sat in a room full of women who were discussing sexual escapades, vibrator size, excellent porn plots. Women can certainly out raunch the boys, don’t disregard that ever.

I have never gotten a solo female caller in my entire strumpet career. I had a couple on my line once. They sounded all of 21, and giggled the entire time. They do not qualify for this test.

Some of these words are seemingly perfectly innocent. Maybe they are. Maybe I’ve included them solely as filler, or just to fuck with your head. Maybe they’re not. The important thing is to gauge your partner’s response. Something that seems innocent to you may garner a surprising reaction. Pay attention.

If you are going to give this quiz to your significant other, you should be prepared to take it yourself. What’s good for the goose, and all that.

Now, seeing as how the number one rule of Word Association is, “First thing that comes to mind,” taking this quiz while reading it to someone else is a bit of a disadvantage to the other party. While they’re giving their word, you have time to think. Their answers may influence your own, changing the point of the exercise entirely.

Being the thoughtful, generous strumpet that I am, I am providing you with means to avoid this. Below the cut, you will find both the list of words, and a video of myself reading the words aloud, followed by a pause for both of you to provide your answers.

Please note: You must respond with the first thing that comes to mind. If the person hesitates before answering? It is not their first answer. Warning, warning.

The Strumpet Talks: Dating Websites

So, let’s talk dating websites.

Random subject for a phone strumpet, I do realize. But when it comes to meeting a man you’ve only spoken to via technology, who better to tell you what kind of person you’re dealing with than someone who communicates regularly with the freaks of the world via technology?

Some months back, a Strumpet friend of mine asked for some assistance in verbally bitch slapping someone on a forum she belonged to. Verbal bitch slapping is one of my main hobbies, so I went to the website, which turned out to be an online dating website. Frustratingly, I couldn’t see the full forum conversation without being a member. I threw together an account, texted her some basic responses, and forgot about the website.

However, from then on, I continuously received e-mails about “New singles in your area!” It was annoying, but because they were coming through to a waste e-mail account, they were easily ignored. But one evening, chained to my computer and having pinned and tumblr’d everything there was, I went snooping through the dating website.

The horror. The horror.

If you want to get a good read on the kinds of men who call a phone sex line, go take a look at a free dating website. And as much as I wanted to share the horrors with friends, I didn’t want to own up to belonging to a dating website.

I personally don’t think there’s anything wrong with joining a dating website. I have heard of people finding love on many sites, such as E-Harmony, Match.com, and even Plenty of Fish.

I’ve never heard of anyone finding love on Adult Friend Finder, however. And after viewing this website (which links to AFF, so I should’ve known what I would get), it’s only one step up.

Doing this job can do interesting things to your libido. In other words, it goes completely away. I speak only from my experience, but in general I don’t expect to want to see a penis for at least six more months. This makes being on a dating website even funnier.

I fleshed out my profile, first with a picture of just my hair. The website didn’t care for this, and demanded a face picture. Okay.

The number of compliments I get on my beautiful eyes keeps me amused for days.

Under the cut, I will share with you some of the more interesting things I’ve seen via the site, along with their client type. A little heads up before you move on: This is a rather long entry, full of quotes. I want everyone to understand that as truly hi-larious as it is to hear about the gents I speak to on these calls, they exist in real life.

The Dangers of Being a Strumpet

A dear Strumpet friend of mine, who we’ll refer to as J, posted a link to my Facebook page today.

Suing for Too Much Sex: A woman in Florida has sued her employers for developing carpal tunnel syndrome – also known as repetitive motion injury – in both hands. She got it from too much masturbating.

Now, the heading and opening paragraph were enough to grab my attention. Is this woman claiming to actually masturbate during every phone call she gets?

She is a phone sex operator and apparently is required to masturbate up to 7 times a day for her clients. She would use one hand on the phone and the other on herself to get an orgasm.

Cue cherry coke all over my computer keyboard. Seven times a day? Really? You’re diddling yourself seven times a day, and the only thing that hurts are your wrists? Connect me with your lube guy.

Now, I’ve mentioned before that Strumpeting is not the most lucrative career choice. It’s a lovely supplement to a boring day job, but I’m not tapping Louboutins on the floor for my shoe fuckers. Plus, it’s not predictable work. When you get paid on a per minute basis, you have no guarantee how much you will earn on a day to day basis. Sure, on a full moon you can rack up the crazies, but some days, the clients are going to church, or AA, or just haven’t paid their credit card bill, and you can end up with one 5 minute call to report.

So, how much can she really going to get for her troubles?

She filed for worker’s compensation and claimed weekly benefits of $267 and also wants to be reimbursed $30,000 for medical bills, after a neurosurgeon operated on her hand.

I’m working for the wrong Strumpet company.

Naturally, I wanted to know the outcome of this case, so I did some Google Fu. The date of the article is 2007, but it appears this case actually happened in November of 1999. I was 17 at the time, and just beginning to be told by random strangers that I had “a lovely voice”.

It took a bit of digging, but as it turns out, my Strumpeting ancestor won her case, for a “minimal amount because ‘mediator Joseph Hand, a retired workers' comp judge, told her she'd have a tough time’ winning. (Source)

Let’s all take a moment to titter at Mr. Hand’s unfortunate association with this case.

Now, I’m a handsy gal. And not in the Strumpet way. I’m a knitter. I type 120 words a minute. I’m Italian, and as with most of my over gesticulating breed, if I were to sit on my hands, I would be unable to speak. I do regular wrist exercises to ensure I don’t get carpal tunnel.

Carpal tunnel from masturbating actually sounds legit. I have cracked many a joke to people of both sexes who were experiencing wrist pain, that a significant other would drastically reduce such inconveniences.

But carpal tunnel from masturbating minimally seven times a day, because it is “required” for your job as a phone sex operator?

For one thing, you must have a libido of steel. The douchebag on the phone who is calling you “his little cunt” and telling you to “take it up your booty hole” is really inspiring you to double click your mouse? You don’t dry up immediately when your client says, “Daddy’s good girl”?

The only way a phone strumpet could potentially masturbate to each and every call that comes in would be if she (or he, though to be fair, I’ve yet to meet a male strumpet. Call me) were a nymphomaniac. From what I understand about this disorder, it’s not about being turned on. It’s no different than an alcoholic who doesn’t much care what the alcohol tastes like, they just want the feeling of drinking. In this situation, the strumpet very well could rub herself raw all day every day.

To you, oh ground breaking Strumpet Sister, I call the highest form of bullshit.

Shake it Up

When people first find out what it is I do for part of my meager living, there are the inevitable questions.

“Wait…does strumpeting mean what I think it means?

”No way! Do you make a lot money?”

”Do you ever get off?

Yes, it does. No, I don’t. And are you insane?

Here’s the thing about being a Phone Strumpet. It’s not sexy. Sure, it sounds wickedly titillating. Curled up in bed, writhing with glee as you enact a nasty little fantasy you wouldn’t even share with your best friend.

Which is all well and good. Until the person on the other end of the phone wants you to pee on them.

When folks, in general, think of phone sex, they think of one of two things. One:

Quickie: Featuring Hartbeat

A video to enjoy while waiting for the next blog entry.

I’ve just found the wonders of this lovely lady. Do yourself a favor, look up some more of her videos, most especially the one involving Watermelon.

Better the second time around

 

I generally like to find post-appropriate pictures to use for my blog entries. This is not always easy, and I’ve had to google some very colorful word salad before. However, in the time spent not Strumpeting, I discovered Pinterest, and really came to realize that Ecards, on the whole, express my thoughts much more clearly than I ever could. I cannot guarantee I won’t use them for every post from now on. I’ll try to control myself.

It has been a month (and eight days) since my return to Strumpeting. And it has been quite a surprising month, at that. The clients have managed to throw me for a loop time and time again, much to the enjoyment of my friends and coworkers from the boring job. There are so many good stories, and so many things I want to tell you, I barely know where to start.

One of the best things since I’ve been back is how many amusing calls there have been. Now, for the most part, phone strumpeting is a laugh riot. It’s impossible to do this job without laughing at at least one fantasy a week. And that’s a gross underestimate. These fantasies, the "sexy talk” from the clients, the noises they make when they come. Oh, god, the noises. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times, I love you, mute button.

Shockingly, I have not had a lot of Mommy Fuckers. I know, I’m as shocked as you are. I anticipated my first call back to start off with my usual greeting of, “Hi, Mommy.” Wonders never cease, I think I’ve only gotten three or four in this entire month. Now, the flip side of that is, I get the even odder callers. Odder than someone who takes the term “motherfucker” literally? But how can this be, you may ask?

Let’s talk about Vomit Guy. Vomit Guy doesn’t get a cutesy John name, like all the other clients. He doesn’t actually need one. He is Vomit Guy. There is no other. Well, I’m positive there are others out there, please don’t give them my phone number. As you might have guessed, Vomit Guy has a certain fetish. He really, really enjoys it when his lover is sick. And not just, “Oh, swoon, I have the vapors.”

No, no. Darling VG’s (and he really is darling, he’s a very nice client) needs are far more basic. Give him your flu strains, your food poisoned, your hungover. He loves you all equally. He wants to hear the dulcet tones of you regurgitating all over him. And afterwards, he wants you to turn around and kiss him. He used the word “chunky” once.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever made yourself throw up. That’s a personal choice between you and your stylist. But if you’ve ever heard someone throw up, you know that this is potentially the worst sound a human being can make. For a lot of us, simply hearing the sound of someone dry heaving can send us running for the bathroom.

I don’t think the noises I make actually sound like vomiting. It sounds more like I’m drowning, actually. I have yet to find a sure fire way to mimic the noise, for one main reason: Making noises that sound like you’re vomiting can actually lead to vomiting.

I’ve scratched my floors to shreds stomping down my heels for clients, slapped my hands together until the skin was raw to simulate spanking myself, and “screamed” like I was being anally raped with a maglite, but I draw the line at actually going full on bulimic for my clients.

Not getting mommy fuckers means I got Vomit Guy twice in two days. Made me feel special.

Also, another reverse of the mommy fuckers is the Big Babies. And I don’t mean babies like, they cry about their small penis. I mean, where’s my binky and I think I need a fresh diaper.

These guys are beyond my strumpet skills. I still cannot figure out exactly what is the turn on in this scenario. I try, I really try, to understand my clients’ fetishes. We all have weird kinks. I’m hoping desperately for a furry one day. I’ll dress up as a giant squirrel, let’s yiff. Come to think of it, next time a client says, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”, I may try this. I’ll report back my findings.

But where is the turn on in being diapered? They don’t even ask that I remove the diaper and perform naughty baby sexual I can’t even finish this sentence. It’s just, change me. Powder me. Put me in a pretty floral bonnet and send me on my way.

And they don’t call me mommy. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.

A woman of loose morals

(STRUM•pit)
Noun:
-A female prostitute or a promiscuous woman.
-A woman of loose morals

Other words in the same vein include: harlot, trollop, streetwalker, moll, trull, gammerstang, a butter'd bun, concubine, hussy, bedswerver, tramp, slut and so on.

See also: Mollynogging (source)

I may change my name to Phone Bedswerver.

Oh, what a wild month it’s been. I have so many blog entries written in my mind, and never any time. Until then, enjoy the graphic.

Back in the Saddle Again

So, it has been 10 months since I updated this blog. It's shameful, I tell you. Shameful. Especially since it's only been eight months since I stopped being a Phone Strumpet.

Yes, sad news. Around the end of July, I took a hiatus from the Phone Strumpet Life. Nothing life threatening, just made a few small changes to the Boring part of my life, and I couldn't fit Strumpeting into it.

In the eight months since I stopped, things have been quiet. I got my libido back, for one thing. You wouldn't think talking to Mommy Fuckers and Shower Boys would kill any impulse I had to even look at a penis, but it does happen. I was grateful to lay down my headset. I'd gotten a little burned out with the same old, same old, in, out, in, out, sideways, figure eight, done, roll over and sleep.

But a strange thing happened about two months ago. I started to miss Strumpeting. Which tells me that I've been away from it long enough to experience a bit of romanticized amnesia. I imagine it's similar to how kidnapping survivors start to miss their captors, and wonder if those burlap sacks weren't comfortable and stylish, after all. Being served food through a small hole under the door seemed bad at the time, but hey, great weight loss program!

Being a Strumpet was not all bad, though. My philosophy has always been that any job that generates funny stories is not a job wasted. My Boring Socially Acceptable Job currently is being a receptionist. And while I really and truly never tire of hearing callers compliment my voice (including my boss, who has no idea what kind of activities this voice has gotten into), it is utterly wasted on this job. Even in customer service, I learned quickly how to use these sultry tones to calm down a screamer. This job provides a few good stories, some great stories, but.

No job in the history of the world has ever generated as many great stories as being a Phone Strumpet. I'm confident in this made up statistic of mine. I'm trying to think of other jobs that could generate the level of depraved hilarity that Strumpeting does.

Maybe working in a porn shop? I've said repeatedly I'd like to work in an "Adult Store" for a few weeks. Imagine the couples coming in, eyeing the cockrings and cheap handcuffs. The closet case, who starts out in the vagina ahoy section, but ends up with "Paid for Gay" DVDs and a Silver Bullet for "my girlfriend". Or the newly 18-year old who comes in and shifts uncomfortably for a few minutes before walking up with his fleshlight and lube.

But the problem there is, if you laugh in a customer's face, the bosses tend to frown upon that. And then you fluster the poor little guys, and I imagine there's a bit of guilt involved. So while you get fun stories, the longevity of them is not guaranteed.

How about a dominatrix? Instead of slapping a ruler against the palm of your hand, you get to slap it across a willing body part. Laugh at them to their face, possibly step on a few protruding organs. Plus? Leather. But there's not a lot of variety in this line of work. You call one guy a pansy ass, limp dick little cockroach, you've called them all. I can see it getting tedious after awhile. Just spank yourself, I'm busy.

Same road, darker path, how about an escort service? How fun would it be to get a phone call, get all gussied up in your sassiest heels and best thigh highs, and go rock someone's world for real? You get to hear their naughty little fantasies up close and personal. It can be pretty lucrative, too, if you've seen the news in the past decade or so. Book deals are just one politician's cock away. I mean, sure, there's the danger of being stuck with something you can't get rid of, like a kid. And, of course, then it's a little more difficult to call yourself a dirty little whore, because everyone else is doing it for you.

These jobs all have hilarious story potential attached. But they're certainly not safe. You can't do them in your pajamas. You can't have a bad hair day. Most importantly, there is no Mute button in real life. And there's another factor that's missing, something I've discussed before in an entry far, far ago.

With the exception of the Dominatrix, what each of these jobs is missing is Power. There's a certain thrilling power to being a Strumpet. Here, I romanticize again, forgetting about my 56 second calls, and the gentleman who told me he remembered me and demanded a new girl. But the power of the Strumpet is this.

You are on the phone with me, and I am going to rock your world and make you come so hard you drop the phone. With just a few changes in decibel to my voice, I can make your dick so hard your eyes will cross. And if you're an asshole to me, I will freeze that tone to ice, and you'll have a much harder time getting off, all while still having to pay me for the pleasure.

I like Power. I like Control.

And after 8 months of being away from it, I realize I like being a Phone Strumpet.

I guess you could say I didn't choose the Strumpet Life. The Strumpet Life chose me.

And very soon, I will be back in that saddle, ready to ride.

Let's hope I can manage to update the blog more regularly this time.