I am always interested in the private lives of my clients. While not wishing to be a part of them, I am interested in the process of observing them. Understanding what makes them tick makes it so much easier to help them.
I see myself as something of a therapist, albeit in an unusual manner. As I was tightening a nipple clamp on Ian’s chest, I remarked that I am here to help him, after all. A couple more turns, after the whimpering and the wincing has subsided, when observed closely I can enjoy the process and help my client simultaneously.
Dressed in a suspender belt, stockings, and heels I do deliver considerable help – relief even – to my clients. I suppose at some level that does make me a therapist.
“So, Ian,” I asked while adding a further turn to the clamp, “why is it you’re looking so down in the mouth today?”
Ian released a little gasp.
“I just don’t think people understand me,” he replied.
“And why would you think that,” I asked, looking around my studio for something suitable with which to beat Ian.
“Well, I’ve had a dating profile up for weeks now, and no one reaches out to me. I mean, no one. You’d think there would be one person on this planet wanting to connect with me.”
“I would have thought there might be at least one person desperate enough to reach out to you,” I said sympathetically.
Ian looked imploringly back at me.
“I’m not that bad!” he muttered.
I sighed and then said, “During this lockdown no one’s looking for a date. Especially not with you. Now, suck on this for a moment.” I placed a pacifier in Ian’s mouth and wandered over to a tablet I keep on a sideboard, along with several paddles and lighter whips. Ian looked quite dejected sucking the little pacifier, which had a rather cute little duck on it’s pale pink form.
“What’s your user name?” I asked.
“Biker3354,” he replied in a mumbled groan, and a moment later I pulled up his profile.
With a username like that I was expecting a leather clad douche on a Harley. Instead I saw the spandex clad form of Ian astride a complicated looking recumbent bicycle.
“What on earth is that between your legs?” I asked.
Speaking through the pacifier, which I only make Ian do to amuse my own sense of the ridiculous, he said “Itth a licumbend bike.”
“What?” I said sharply and removed the pacifier.
“It’s a recumbent bike,” he said looking a little relieved.
I looked at the profile picture critically. Well, all that spandex wasn’t helping Ian. Of that I was sure. And a recumbent bike is the kiss of death when it comes to a dating profile.
“And do you think that a woman, I assume it is a woman you’re looking for, will find that attractive? I suppose it will guarantee you’re kept at least a respectable social distance away.”
“Well, I like that picture. Besides, that bike was a bargain. It’s a five thousand dollar machine, you know. I picked it up for $700.”
I frowned.
“Who from,” I asked.
“Oh, just some guy in Craigslist.”
“Some single guy on Craigslist. No one dates people who ride recumbent bikes. No one wants to be seen with a freak. I mean, be honest, Ian. If you ride a recumbent bike it’s like collecting vinyl records. It’s one of those things that let’s the world know that you are obtuse and out of touch.”
“I do have a small collection…” mumbled Ian.
I strolled over to the sideboard and drew out a slim but very persuasive little cane and flexed it in my hand.
“I see,” I said, absently.
“I have a twelve incher or two,” he said distractedly watching me uncertainly as I slapped the cane against my palm.
“And do you think that helps your quest for a partner?”
“Well, I really don’t…” He stared as I took position behind him and swished the cane to and fro to get the feel of it as his voice trailed off.
“I must say, when someone tells me they have a twelve incher that they want to unsleeve, it has always been accompanied by a sense of disappointment a few moments later.”
I pushed the pacifier back in Ian’s mouth and told him to shut up. I took another look at the recumbent cycle. When will people realise that a partner want’s most of all to feel safe. Seeing a potential mate on a device like that triggers neither confidence nor libido.
“You got the bike at such a bargain because the idiot that owned it before you was tired of being single. Now, shut up and enjoy the lesson you’re about to get about dating.”
After we finished our session I took Ian next door, to my friend Crystal, who has a long haired golden retriever that is always groomed to perfection. After a quick picture with the dog, Ian went on his way with strict instructions to post the picture to his profile and throw away the spandex leggings.
Predictably, Ian is doing better now.