I Spend Thanksgiving Morning With My Dominatrix, And She Breaks My Body In The Way That Only She Can

Ask any dominatrix, and she'll tell you most of her customers are lawyers. Actually I don't know this firsthand, I'm just going by what I read in Savage Love. Seems like it would make sense though. If your life's work is to be a condom for the pricks of the world, there's probably some part of you deep inside your brain that demands you be punished.

My dominatrix is beautiful. When I die of Alzheimer's, one of the last memories that will leave my brain will be the way she rises from her waterbed to intimidate you with her height. I'm also not ashamed to tell you she's big, and green. Green during the winter that is, the rest of the year she's a dormant brown waiting for the rains that bring her to life. I should also probably mention she's a mountain. Literally, a mountain.

I started calling her The Mountain Of Punishment long before I realized her role in my life, simply because of the Herculean effort it takes to get to the top of her. The first time I made it was only because of utter disbelief. No part of me thought the state park system could expect a person to go straight up the side of a fucking mountain without any switchbacks, but they did, and so I did, one step at a time all the way to the bench at the top. When I collapsed on that bench I wasn't so sure I wasn't laying down to die. However, to the disappointment of some I lived, and afterwards got a periodic urge contrary to all rationality to go up that mountain again and again, sometimes 3 or 4 times a month. I didn't understand it, but I couldn't fight it.

I was in a bad relationship at the time. Very bad. When I finally grew a pair and got the she-banshee out of my life, my death march urges subsided, and a little window into the workings of my mind was opened. When I went through my blizzard of revenge relationships, thinking that 3 or 4 or 10 emotional wrongs inflicted could make a right, I knew a mountain penance would be in order from time to time before I could bring in the next woman. Me and the mountain had an understanding, and it did it's job well.

This morning at sunrise the mountain called me. I don't know why. Maybe this guy finally got to me, or this lady. I do know that when the mountain calls, it is not to be ignored. So I put on a sweatshirt and some hiking boots and threw myself into the arms of my dominatrix so she could break me just like old times. She didn't disappoint. After I type this I will barely be able to walk to the refrigerator to try and come up with something for Thanksgiving dinner.

Here's the view from the top of her. I guess as far as punishment goes, this, some fresh air, and a little sunshine isn't all that bad a gig.