I got another slave resumé in my e-mail today. That's what I call letters from strangers saying they want to be my slave. These aren't professional inquiries; these folks want me to have a personal relationship with them. I get a lot of these, and yes, it's a compliment--sort of. But being my submissive is an intimate thing, and I don't accept everyone who sends me his or her kinky curriculum vitae from a Hotmail account. In fact, while I play with lots of people casually, I have had exactly three long-term personal submissives.

My very first I got by placing a personal ad here in The Stranger. I met several interesting people, but the standout was a slender, serious artist with an Ivy League degree and a high pain tolerance. She eventually moved back east, but I have fond memories of her snakelike writhings as I flogged her back.

I met my second submissive when a client persuaded me to let a submissive female "friend" of his join us for a session. As soon as we met, it was clear to me that she was actually a sex worker he'd paid to accompany him. Normally I wouldn't allow this, but her rapid-fire wit made me laugh, and her ass seemed made to fit my hand, so I broke my rule. After the scene, I gave her my card. She called me before I reached home. That was seven years ago, and while our relationship is no longer exclusive, we're still playing.

My third was a handsome butch boi I had noticed working at Toys in Babeland. When I came there to teach an SM class, she somehow learned that I was a Pepsi addict. During the break in the class, she presented me with both a can and a small bottle of Pepsi, just in case I had a packaging preference. I was charmed. We had some lovely times with my singletail and a scalpel before she fell in love with a monogamous woman and we agreed to simply be friends.

I could never take someone as my personal submissive based on an e-mail. For me, there has to be that chemical reaction that only happens when two people are face to face. But if you really want to take orders from me, here's one: Get off the bloody computer and go meet kinky people in real life. If you can't handle doing that, then you definitely couldn't handle belonging to me, either.