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Puppy Slut II – Caught in the Act
Dogslave: I'm sorry, Sir, my roommate came home...and i was in the kitchen
Jaymac: So did she catch you in the act or did you manage to get off?
Dogslave: in the act and i love fucking my leash, so
Jaymac: Did you leave your bedroom door open or were you spared that strange scene?
Dogslave: bedroom door was closed, but i was on the kitchen floor
Jaymac: OMG, and how did she handle that???
Dogslave: Not TOO well
Jaymac: I'd laugh but I imagine you wouldn't appreciate that.
Dogslave: Go ahead, i think i will laugh too, at some point, some day.
Jaymac:): Is there any possibility that she can comprehend what you were doing? Or are you just screwed?
Dogslave: umm, well she walked in and stopped. and i stopped. and we stared at each other, and she was kinda drunk, past tipsy, and was like "am i drunk and hallucinating, or are you really doing that?" and i was like "uhhhhhh" and she was like "replace that and anything else you decicated(or some other big word, she goes all brainy when shes drunk) i didnt mention the turkey baster and she walked away, yelling "LALALALA I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS RIGHT NOW!!! LALALALALA" and slammed her bedroom door
Jaymac: So how are you taking this?
Dogslave: shocked, nervous, slightly freaked
Jaymac: Would you prefer to sign off or would you like moral support?
Dogslave: moral support, please, please.
Jaymac: I am at your service Dogslave... what do you need?
Dogslave: just, i don’t know like i don’t think i should approach her, maybe tomorrow? Try to see if she believes it was a crazy dream? or something? or she wont remember? and in my slightly fucked up mind I’m sad. i didn’t get to finish with the leash-which is one of my favorites.
Jaymac: I wouldn't put much money on that, every woman I've ever known has a memory like a steel trap.
Dogslave: well i have short term memory loss, so i’m not the best judge
Jaymac: My mother repressed much of her trauma, but that was because she lived in fear of what other people might think. And my wife for some reason has repressed much of her childhood memories. I never understood my parents until I spent three long nights talking with my black sheep Aunt, her sister-in-law. She filled me in on all the family secrets and at the age of 42, most of the missing pieces of the puzzle feel into place. The rest of it became clear after my father died and I found his notebooks from AA. Now I know and appreciate what they went through… Still there or has she returned to talk?
Dogslave: still here, i don’t think she’s coming out
Jaymac: Is there anything I can say or do to help you?
Dogslave: Be here? i don’t even know what to say to her
Jaymac: I’m here and I’m now just Jay. If it were me - when and if the time comes - I'd be honest with her. Try to help her comprehend if not understand what you feel. I'm really not the person to advise you. I'm a grumpy old man and don't have the time left to lie about myself. I'm twisted and all of my few friends understand that.
Dogslave: i like that-you don’t have to give advice
Jaymac: Is that emoticon for real or are you just putting on a happy face?
Dogslave: i put emoticons in my text where i would be smiling-so, if i were to say, i like that old pessimistic grumpy side of you, I’d be smiling like that
Jaymac: Nice to be appreciated. So are there potential ramifications? Could she screw you over with other people in your life?
Dogslave: mmm i honestly don’t think she’s the type. She’s very level headed.
Jaymac: well my experience is that very few of the people "in your life" are friends. Most are acquaintances. You're lucky if you can count your true friends on more than one hand. A friend is someone who will listen to your drunken bullshit after you've had your heart broken. A friend is some you can call at one in the morning, to bail you out of jail. A friend is someone who volunteers to help you move. And when it comes to money or time, friends don't keep ledgers on who owes who. They just do what needs to be done as well as they can. I'm 62 and all I need is one hand to count my true friends. Still there?
Dogslave: Yes Sir
Jaymac: Not Sir, not now. Now I'm just Jay.
Dogslave: Thank you Jay
Jaymac: If you'd prefer, we can speak over the phone. Tina, my best friend's fiancé, says I have a great voice. The number is 909 555-XXXX. It's just a straight cable modem line. No bells and whistles, call checking, number tracing stuff.
Dogslave: I’m not ready
Jaymac: No problem, just hoping to help some way.
Dogslave: Thank you, i really appreciate it
Jaymac: I'm here as long as you need me... can I distract you by asking you to tell me something vanilla about yourself - nothing nasty, just a story.
Dogslave: Such as?
Jaymac: Or if you're not up to that I can easily cut and paste a vanilla story about myself.
Dogslave: God you make me smile. No, just give me some prompts-I’m not good at story telling
Jaymac: Anything, like the last time you went on vacation, or had a good laugh with a true friend.
Dogslave: When i was 14-before the dog, mind you-i had 2 French foreign exchange boys stay with me
Dogslave: now, i had taken 2 years of French and was extremely excited
Jaymac: French... tell me more. All I have is very rusty Latin and Spanish.
Dogslave: so we-all the parents and students who were host families-met in the school parking lot, where a bus would be dropping them off from the airport
Jaymac: I can understand every third or fourth word when I hear it.
Dogslave: now, i grew to my full height in like 3rd grade, so im standing there 5'3", now normal among most of my peers. We had about 4 boys in the enitre class, and none of them could take a student, so i ended up with the 2 boys, because my father didnt mind, and everyone else got 1 girl so, my father is ready, lay down the law if they're sleazy looking or whatever. The first one off the bus-must have been under 5 ft and would make 100 pounds soaking wet. My father visibly relaxes, and the second one was a sleaze ball, but polite, so my father was no longer worried. Anyway, so they're pointed to us by the woman running the program, and they come over. Now my father excitedly says "WELCOME TO AMERICA!"
Jaymac: Most of the Frenchmen that I've met were sleazy. There must be something in the water over there.
Dogslave: The tiny one was a sweetheart. Now, they had the most dumbfounded looks on their faces. They looked around and at each other all confused. We were told they spoke English-had at least 5yrs experience - let me tell you, they did NOT speak English, and i didn’t plan on relying on using my French too much-they were here to learn English in a native setting. We couldn’t communicate. Just try to picture me, acting out words to two French kids – hysterical.
We went indoor go-kart racing and they drove like crazies. You’re not supposed to bump into one another, but they did – hard! i sprained my neck, i swear. Stupid story, sorry to bore you. i don’t know what to tell.
Jaymac: So did your old man lower the boom on them?
Dogslave: Noooo, he liked them. Well, the small one, not the sleazy one.
Jaymac: Fathers tend to be very protective with their baby girls. Laughs…Would you care to read about the day I lost my wedding ring?
Dogslave: yes
Jaymac: Just a minute, this will be a cut and past and I have to pull up the file.
Dogslave: ok
Jaymac: I wrote this for my stepson.
Beatrice Woods – mama dada or why we all need a grandmother.
Hey Kid this is a true story. Back in 1990 when I was all involved with the Greens and your mom and I were beginning to come apart, I came across an ad in a newspaper about some New Age “integrated reality based psychology” guru appearing up in Ojai.
I guess the idea of integrating reality with psychology was the hook got my attention, so caught up in my mid-life crisis I thought I’d go hear if he had anything to offer. I mentioned it to your Mom, but between Earth Day and all the time I’d been spending with the Greens, the bank balance and the fact that I hadn’t done any corporate consulting in the last few months, she’d pretty much had it with New Age BS.
That Saturday I climbed on the Metal Mistress and rode up to Ojai and your Mother was right. This guy turned out to be a retired used car salesman from Nevada with a bunch of yuppie drones at his disposal pushing a tax exempt, non-profit, pyramid scheme. I left at the first break.
When I got back out to the parking lot, I started to put on my gloves and discovered that I’d somehow lost my wedding ring. Your Mom and I were already on shaky ground so I turned my gloves inside out, searched all my pockets and carefully retraced my steps to the meeting hall. They’d just started the second shift and I couldn’t get in without disturbing the twenty or so lost souls who’d been desperate enough to return for another two hours of bullshit.
I rode to a local cantina for a beer and some lunch to wait out the balance of the program. I came back around two and after waiting another twenty minutes for the “Q & A” to break up, I went searching for the ring. No luck, so I left my business card with one of the yuppie drones, got on the bike and headed for home trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say to your Mom.
I was headed out of Ojai when I caught sight of the sign next to the driveway to Beatrice Wood’s Ceramics Studio. I’d driven or ridden past that driveway at least a hundred times in the past fifteen years and since I still had no idea what I could tell your Mom about the lost ring, I hung a left turn and rode up to a rather ordinary 1970’s ranch style house on a soft rise in the middle of an open field.
The sign said they were open so I rang the doorbell and a little fellow from India answered. He asked me what I wanted and I explained that I was interested in checking out the pottery. He hesitantly allowed me to enter the house, which was set up as a show room for Wood’s work. He was nervous and never took his eyes off me as he answered my questions about the work and prices for various pieces. I couldn’t quite figure out what his problem was until I realized what I must look like in all my leather, long hair and beard. Here he was a skinny little balding guy from India with glasses and sandals alone in a room with a six foot, two hundred pound American biker dude with a Buck knife on his belt. When I snapped to that, I grinned as I looked at him across the room.
Rather than give him any shit about his terrorized misconceptions, I cut him some slack and started to leave. I was on my way out the front door when Beatrice Wood appeared. She was a feisty little old lady in her nineties, dressed in a wild color printed silk Sari with rings and bangles and necklaces galore and she lit up the room. Among all of the bright color and iridescent glazed pieces on display, she stood out as her own best work.
Her voice was like water over gravel and she literally captured me. After we introduced ourselves to one another, she took me on her arm and gave me a thirty-minute tour through her show room. She then took me out into the studio and introduced me to her apprentices who all seemed to share the same funny smile. We spent another fifteen minutes discussing the chemistry of her glazing compounds and then we went back into the main house for tea and conversation about the Dada art movement in New York City and Paris in the twenties.
Beatrice actually lived with some of the artists and writers and she’d spent more than her share of time drinking and carousing with the likes of Marcel Duchamp, Henri-Pierre Roche, Anais Nin, and Man Ray. She studied in France to be a painter, and gave that up to be an actress in New York, and gave that up because it was “a pain in the ass” to follow Krishnamurti and finally ended up doing ceramics. Up down, rich broke, crazy in love or broken hearted, she muddled through.
She showed me old photos and even read from a few letters and told me about the loves of her long life… raging love affairs filled with what she called “torrid sex and broken hearts” and two marriages… one was a disaster and annulled, and the other was platonic, so she never had sex with either of her husbands. About a half hour into this I finally picked up on why she was spending this much time with me. She liked the way I looked. She was turned on by the opportunity to take another hairy, hulking male on her arm and parade him through her life.
Not wanting to impose on her hospitality, I finished my tea and begged off with the excuse that I had to get back home for dinner. She laughed and told me that if she were forty years younger, she’d feel inclined to make me a better offer. I laughed and said I was flattered. Then I told her about losing my wedding ring, and we both laughed. Maybe she saw through all the leather and hair and picked up on my fear and desperation. Anyway she gave me a big hug and told me not to worry – that everything would be all right.
Years later Beatrice Wood came to visit me in my dreams. In November of 1996 I was broke. I’d quit my job down in Orange County in the middle of 1994 and spent most of the next two years scrapping by on short term consulting contracts that paid the rent and not much else, and by Thanksgiving I was so broke I took a job as a phone solicitor at $7.50 an hour plus commission.
In my free time, I’d been methodically peeling the onion of my experience. Remembering the past, I held up those memories to dispassionate examination and concluded that I really wasn’t the legend in my own mind.
It’s one thing to be broke at twenty-one; but it’s an altogether different feeling at forty-seven. As I remember, it was during that period when you and I had our little blow out at Christmas and ended up not talking for the next year or so.
Anyway, I was alone in the loft rolling my own cigarettes, drinking cheap beer and strung out behind my dwindling income. Needless to say I wasn’t feeling too good about myself. One night I was having a particular bitch of a time falling asleep. I was hung up in that weird place between the edge of sleep and crawling out of bed to smoke another cigarette, when Beatrice Wood appeared out of the limbo. She was still dressed to kill in her Sari and bangles when she smiled, took me into her arms and said, “It’s going to be okay. Everything will work itself out and it’s all going to be all right.”
Knowing what she’d experienced in her life, there was no way to argue with her so I fell asleep, sobbing in her arms and woke up the next morning feeling rested for the first time in months. Over ten years later, I remember everything from the dream as if it had just happened.
Dogslave: Jay?
Jaymac: Yes.
Dogslave: My brain hurts
Jaymac: I know how that feels.
Dogslave: So I’m not being a dumb ditzy blonde right now?
Jaymac: At least you're starting to see some humor in the Cosmic joke, we're all riding through.
Dogslave: Cosmic joke-life reference? I don't know if I can keep my eyes open. I appreciate you distracting, though.
Jaymac: Of course... you off to sleep?
Dogslave: In a bit, almost too tired to function-almost and yes i did just change the most quoted quote from Mean Girls. i should be punished
Jaymac: Maybe tomorrow when you're feeling better about tonight... I have to run a few errands, but I'll be back online around noon, your time.
Dogslave: i understand, just have some self-loathing, then i’ll be over it, hopefully…wait tomorrow for the punishment-i was joking, lol. I’m surprised you haven’t asked about the quote, must be keeping with the teenage girl pop culture times
Jaymac: There no need to loathe yourself. There are plenty of repressed vanilla assholes who can do that for you.
Dogslave: its just that i can’t believe i put myself in that vulnerable position-i knew she could come home at any point, and i did it in the kitchen, and i’m kind of disappointed in myself because i haven't gotten you to say Silly girl or Silly Bitch today. Perhaps i should call you a cutie patootie or something
Jaymac: Not sure about the Mean Girls reference... I've channel surfed through that movie a few times, but from that genre I actually prefer, Heathers and if you insist, I will happily call you a Silly Girl, if you promise not to let your level headed roommate grind you down: Illigitimi non carbonundum!! Don't let the bastards grind you down!!
Dogslave: i’m not really sure what those girls mean when they compare Heathers to Ashleys to Monicas or whatever. Explain to me? And the Mean Girls reference when the one girl says about her guy friend, "He's almost too gay to function", long story, you HAVE to see the movie. It'd be so cute: i can imagine you on a couch with a bowl of popcorn, feet up, watching Mean Girls with your pessimistic and grumpy behavior, making comments and talking back, with the cute expression from your picture, oh goodness, makes me smile.
Jaymac: I never paid much attention to what high school girls had to say when I was in high school. I'm an old fart now so you can hardly expect me to start paying attention now.
Dogslave: but you said you prefer Heathers! What do you mean by that: i assume the label different personalities and looks to certain girl names, but i don’t know what they are! Please teach me about current teenage girl culture!
Jaymac: Heathers in the title of a very dark humored movie about snotty high school girls, who take their cliquish shit too far and get themselves justifiable murdered for being such intolerable bullying cunts!
Dogslave:.. oh, well shit
Jaymac: As you know I'm a very sick puppy.
Dogslave: i thought we concluded that i was the puppy in this relationship, but hey, if you wanted to try switch...
Jaymac: Sick Puppies don't switch... they bite... laughs.
Dogslave: i can bite, rrrawr i’m ferocious
Jaymac: Remember that, if your roommate tries to pull any "Heather" shit on you.
Dogslave: i was just being cute... I don't think I could bite someone, just as I couldn't spank you and fuck you in the ass with a strap on or whatever female doms do with male subs, I don't know that’s what i saw in the movies.
Jaymac: I've seen it in real time... not my cup of tea, but I do love to watch gurl on gurl action, even if they don't ask me to play.
Dogslave: I don't have a dominant bone in my body, or one that has the urge to watch a man get fucked. But if I ended up gurl on gurl, I'd invite you to play
Jaymac: Why thank you... that's very considerate to think of the deviant urges of a dirty old man, which can be abbreviated as DOM.
Dogslave: lol! It could be COM-cute old man
Jaymac: Did that line really make you laugh out loud?
Dogslave: Yes. honestly
Jaymac: Then my work here is done, regardless of what happens with your roommate, you can remember tonight with a laugh out loud!!
Dogslave: yes, i am pretty cheered up, just missing one thing and i see how you chose not to comment on the cute old man bit - well 2 things, but i can deal with 1.
Jaymac: Are you being bratty because you want me to punish you?
Dogslave: Nooooo I'm being playful, there’s a difference between being a brat and being cute-i’m cute, not a brat.
Jaymac: An emoticon with the raspberry... okay, the gloves are off... switching back to Jaymac... go find your switch!!!
Dogslave: Yes Sir
Jaymac: Now where were we before your roommate so rudely interrupted our play?
Dogslave: i don't know. Must not have been memorable
Jaymac: Still with the teasing cute Puppy stuff, you must want it bad.
Dogslave: Do I? You sure? You're so good?
Jaymac: Keep teasing and you'll definitely get what you need.
Dogslave: Teasing? Why, what ever do you mean?
Jaymac: You're lucky I'm not there because I'd be the one with the switch.
Dogslave: Why? So i could help you on your form?
Jaymac: Form???
Dogslave: Technique
Jaymac: Let's get focused silly bitch... do you still have your collar and leash on?
Dogslave: Goal 1:accomplished and I will retrieve them
Jaymac: And make sure you get naked and nasty while you're at it!!!
Dogslave: Ready Sir
Dogslave: The question: Are you?
Jaymac: Is your Puppy tale up your ass?
Dogslave: I shall fetch it
Jaymac: Better make it quick bitch!! Topping from the bottom, just like a brat!!! When was the last time you pissed?
Dogslave: 2 hours, maybe a bit more? Ohh, and by the way, that was me being cute. Topping from the bottom? Explain?
Jaymac: A common practice among bratty subs who deliberately tease and misbehave so they receive the punishment they need... let's take this into the bathroom.
Dogslave: SIR YES SIR! And why is it called that?
Jaymac: Because it's a manipulation which explains the answer to the eternal question: What does a true sadist, do to a true masochist?
Dogslave: wait the sadist is the worst one, right? with the pain loving? wait no i messed that up
Jaymac: A sadist enjoys inflicting pain for sexual gratification, while the masochist receives gratification from receive pain.... silly bitch!!
Dogslave:...oh, damn… ive been using those words wrong and i used them for school papers and shit. i think i used them in some essay for college application too. Shit!
Jaymac: Laughs out loud... they're in the dictionary.
Dogslave:...a lot of words are in the dictionary, the dictionary is a big book
Jaymac: Stop it and get your bouncy butt into the bathroom!!
Dogslave: I'm there, Stop what? Rattling you? Fulfilling your every dream and desire? Distracting you?
Jaymac: Actually you're playing right into my hands. I truely enjoy whipping bratty bottoms. So what is the answer to the eternal question?
Dogslave: eternal question? No, I’m full, thanks, save the pie for later.
Jaymac: Silly bitch...
Dogslave: To pie, or not to pie: THAT is the question. You don't know how hard i'm laughing, i honestly almost pissed myself
Jaymac: Gather yourself and get into the tub, slip that leash between those wet pussy lips, roll over on your back legs wide open, get a grip on that brush or plug, and whip your pussy with that switch until you cum and piss all over your tits and face.
Dogslave: grip on the brush or plug?
Jaymac: You have your Poodle tail or your favorite butt plug tail up your ass. Go fuck and whip yourself, until you cum and piss and then lick up your mess. Report back when you're finished.
Dogslave: Ok, Sir… i’m back Sir with bright pink cunt lips, pissy wet hair and still dripping with cum.
Jaymac: And how many times did you whip your bright pink cunt before you came?
Dogslave: i didn’t count, but i held off for as long as i could.
Jaymac: Did you enjoy your punishment?
Dogslave: Yes, Sir, didn't even know it was punishment
Jaymac: Laughs... you've been up too late, again... Take a shower, get some sleep and we'll chat more tomorrow.
Dogslave: Yes, Sir
Jaymac: Good night, sleep well and dream better.
Dogslave: WAIT! i have a question.
Jaymac: Ask and if I can I will answer.
Dogslave: Is Jaymac your porn star name?
Jaymac: Just my Library tag.
Dogslave: Oh, because you were like, time to get my Jaymac on or something, before, and i was thinking, DUDE! he has a porn star name! I want a porn star name
Jaymac: It's been over forty years since I did a porn movie. And everything was softcore and shot on 8mm film... I can't begin to remember what my pornstar name was.
Dogslave: really?!?! I want a porn star name! Something memorable, something BAM
Jaymac: I'll think about it and maybe we can come up with something tomorrow... now clean up and go to bed!!
Dogslave: Thank you Sir, Goodnight… wait i have another question, but you can answer it tomorrow: What’s 8mm film?
Jaymac: It's an ancient format used to make home movies from after WW II until Beta max and VHS video tape came into use in the 1980's. Nearly forty years of grainy tiny images of children playing in the wading pools of America, Europe and Japan... and poorly lit people, pretending to have sex on camera, not unlike the crap we see on Cinemax after Dark. And with that answer I give you a sweet kiss on your pissy lips...Good night to you.
Dogslave: pretending? that rhymed, sort of-kiss pissy lips, whatever it flowed. Goodnight
Jaymac: Signing off Puppy slut, sweet dreams.
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