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Hello and welcome back to Behind the Battle Podcast with Me Possum Victoria. We are carrying on with an English Madam Chapter 8. I Crave an Ample Angel With diligence and application, Cynthia became an inventive and resourceful brothel keeper. The demands of certain of her customers were a constant challenge of her skills as an entrepreneur, a bank manager, the Sirius of Mud, a diplomat in need of the Undorphsley fragrant armpit, a collector of taxes anxious to pretend that he is a lesbian, an engineer convinced that the departure of schoolgirls, elasticated knickers is indicative of the decline of Western civilization. These and other earnest obsessionists came to her establishment for the gratification of their appetites. Cynthia saw to it that they were never disappointed. If she was ever surprised by a request, she did not give her astonishment either vocal or facial expression. It was imperative to behave as though the particular diversion required were the most commonplace thing anyone could possibly ask for. Of course she knew of the perfect surrogate nun. Of course she could tie the gentleman up and leave him in the cupboard overnight. Nothing could be easier than supplying a dominant lady with a foul tongue. The client's wish was her command. Janet gave Cynthia much useful advice on how best to accommodate the kinky bondage fellows. It is hard to imagine the quietly spoken, sad eyed Janet as the strictest of disciplinarians, but that indeed is the role she sustained for fifteen wary years. I broke down in the end, she told me. I couldn't bear the strain and the pretense any longer. Janet decided at the outset of her career that she would work with her mind rather than her body. In other words, she would not be the conventional prostitute offering herself for conventional sex. She would cater for men who seldom wanted physical contact of the customary kind. She would satisfy the needs of those who wanted debasement and humiliation, needs that could as well be satisfied in the kitchen as the bedroom. I had to do a lot of acting. Sometimes I was playing as many as six different parts in a single day. Janet rented an apartment in Paddington, which had previously been occupied by an Austrian prostitute of a naturally severe disposition. Helga had enough. The time had come for her to return to Austria and try to live a normal life with the money she's made. Janet bought Helga's equipment, ropes, whips, boots, stocks, and inherited the majority of her punters. Janet soon discovered that the men who visited her were from the upper reaches of English society. They wore expensive suits and carried rolled umbrellas. To judge by the performance that many of them demanded of Janet, they had each been reared by a foreboding nanny, of whom they had never ceased to be an awe. One such was a portly rubicumed politician who would turn up at the flat in Paddington with a script in hand. While Janet studied her lines, he disappeared into the bathroom, from which he emerged some minutes later in the not very convincing guise of a schoolboy. I really had to stop myself from laughing. The first time I saw him, Janet said. I mean he was very fat. He had had a special outfit made for him, short trousers, a blazer, woolen socks, and a school cap. His legs looked ridiculous because they were a mass of varicose veins. The errand Simon is called into the presence of Nanny Wilkins. Who has been a naughty boy today? I have Nanny. What does Nanny do to little boys when they are naughty? She smacks them, Nanny. And where does Nanny smack them, Simon? On the on there speak up Nanny can't hear naughty little boys who mumble. On their bot bots, nanny. Nanny thinks that Simon is too old for that nursery talk. Nanny does. Now where exactly on Simon's person is Nanny going to administer a smack? On his bottom, Nanny. Precisely. Simon presents his bottom to Nanny, who smacks it hard. Now stand up straight. Yes, Nanny. At once, Nanny. Thank you, Nanny. Nanny notices something that enrages her. Who has not washed behind his ears this morning? I speak up. I must have forgotten too, Nanny. I won't forget again, I promise, Nanny. Nanny has heard too many of Simon's promises. Nanny has. Nanny clips the errant Simon on both ears. And there the playlette would end. I never once saw his cock. In all the years I acted nanny for him. He used to come inside his shorts when I clipped his ears. Then he'd go off to the bathroom. The next thing he'd be in his pinstripes, looking like a proper politician. I often thought to myself, if only the public knew what I know about you, when he paid me for his pleasure. Janet realized that she was on the verge of a breakdown when she found herself envying the prostitute who worked in a flat on the opposite side of the street. If a taxi drew up and a bloke in casual clothes got out, I knew he was one of hers. If he was wearing a bowler and pinstripes, he was one of mine. I got to thinking how lucky she was, dealing with normal men instead of the upper class loonies I had to put up I had to put on a show for. Janet fell in love with just such a normal man, with whom she now lives. She is fortunate, she maintains, because an ex-prostitute is not everyone's idea of a good catch, and her lover is completely aware of the kind of woman he has caught. He's very special. He knows I was on the game, yet he shows me nothing but respect. When Cynthia opened her doors, then to the kinky bondage fellows, and their ill it was to Janet that she turned for assistance and information. Janet had long ago mastered the art of appearing forceful when she wielded the whip or fung, whereas in reality she was barely calling on her resources as a disciplinarian. There was no need to be cruel to yourself in order to be cruel to them. Economy was of the essence. One skillfully applied twack was more pleasing to the recipient and less physically demanding of the applicant than a dozen haphazard strokes. The conservation of energy was of paramount importance, Janet insisted. It was the client who had to be exhausted. Cynthia was afforded additional advice in regard to the business of domination by Gregory, whose own compulsion to be humbled had led him to Janet. Cynthia's future maidservant described his ideal mistress in a letter to the woman who was to personify that ideal. I've had a bit of time to research more into the subject that intrigued you, namely domination. The newspaper article I enclosed deals with the aggression angle from a purely medical standpoint, and I've made a few notes which used or read in conjunction with my slave manual, which I hope you kept, might enlighten you still further. It's really the bits Adler leaves out. For a start, you asked me once if I considered a rather attractive low cut black dress you were wearing was the costume for the dominant mistress role of erotic fame. I said no, thus cruelly shattering your belief, which was very uncharitable of me, because I didn't then give you my ideal version of such a character. I now make amends for my curtness and hope it will prove interesting reading. My ideal Lady Dominia is an assemblage of all the fictional main female characters and bizarre wear figured in most sadomasochistic literature and is as follows dress black fleshings faintly shiny cat suit from neck to toes and worn over a very prominent bust line bra, helmet or hood, in either black leather rubber latex or plastic patent, clothes fitting with oval open face piece, worn with long hair, blonde wig flowing below mask in black satin with slanted eye slots and sequins featured at brows too. Boots knee high length fashion boots and glossy black leather or shiny plastic surface, lace up fronts and medium high spike heels worn with tiny rowl spares for show. Belt four inches wide waist belt in black leather patent or plastic or an outside worn corset waist nipper in black ditto, but having vivid red laces pulled in very tight to accentuate the figure. Wig As most dominants are blonde, a platinum wig or hair piece worn to show below the helmet as stated. Gloves usually tucked into waistbelt, black leather with short cuffs i. riding gloves. Collar Heavy mock gold chain looped around neck or rhinestone free strand collar or poodle collar set with rhinestone brilliance. Bracelet in rhinestones and worn on right wrist whip hand. Above glove surface if gold collar is used, use gold bracelet of course. Earrings worn if the helmet doesn't cover the earlobes. Blackjet or gold dangle type, heavy and noticeable. Riding switch black with silver metal fittings carried by loop from handle slung over wrist. Makeup very pale with a suggestion of rogue on cheekbones, vivid crimson lipstick, cold blue or green eyeshadow, pointed fingernails, note lips down rather thin to give severity to the face not full. With this dress goes the pose. Madame's walk because of her high heels and drawn in waist, is definitely aggressive. Quite naturally, by it she commands attention, this combined with her mannerisms. Her manner is naughty, her voice impetuous and cold, even mockingly vicious. She doesn't question but demands, doesn't request but issues an order, a decree, in fact. Visiting Madame is more like obtaining an audience with a queen of ancient times, a goddess of cruelty. For instance, a slave, though still in his street clothes, and he meeting her for the first time where it would be normal to shake hands in greeting. Madame would require him to kneel at her feet and kiss his mistress. Shoe tip revertently reverently. This act Madame would not regard as dramatic or theatrical, but as merely showing good manners and common courtesy. Her most favourite position for greeting a slave might be sitting in a large armchair, her legs elegantly crossed, and she smoking a cigarette through a long holder, perhaps while she leafed idly through a glossy fashion magazine. Can you get the picture? The slave would enter, she wouldn't look up, face his mistress approach to within six feet of her chair, then get down on his knees and crawl very slowly towards her feet, head bent low to the floor. In due course, Madame's recognition of his presence might be a soft snapping of her fingers, followed by a vague wave towards her feet. Her slave would then respond by respectfully kissing the sole of her boot, the one nearest to him. To perform this task the slave would be most careful not to let his fingers come anywhere near his mistress's boots. The punishment for such a crime would be, say, twelve cuts of the whip across each palm, since his fingers, however carefully they had been scrubbed and manicured, would be considered by Madame to be unclean. The most favourable response his mistress might show the slave would be to raise the other soul to the slave's lips to be kissed likewise. This would be a singular show of tolerance. The most favourable response his mistress might show the slave would be to raise the other soul to the slave's lips to be kissed likewise. This would be a singular show of tolerance. But of course, Madame may not choose to acknowledge her slave at that time and decide to let him wait, kneeling patiently at her feet while she finishes reading. Madame may even choose to use the slave's back as a footrest, her pointed boots tearing and bruising the tender skin of his back, and she indifferent to his groans, and if wearing dress spears, oh what pain. This then is the sort of demania most masochistically inclined men want, though some don't know it at the time it seems. Believe me, Cindy, treat them this way initially, dressed as described, and you'll have any one of them on toast struck dumb at the treatment. Later on you can break said slave's spirit entirely by being utterly contemptuous of his rights and laughing at any suggestion of sexual gratification coming from him. Just reminder that a real slave would readily consume dog food at his mistress's order, let alone obey her every wish. Remember this the next time you have a man under the lash. Keep this for reference when slash if we get together. The costume. The costume was eventually got together. Dressed in her cat suit Cynthia became Lady Domania, Gregory's Dark Angel. Many were the joyous evenings in Cranmore when Lady Domania, or Madame Balloni, as Mitch preferred to call her, ruled over her underlings. It must be stressed though that the Cranmorium style of domination and cruelty is a relatively mild kind. Compared to those ladies who advertise their wicked appeal in the magazine Madams, in a world of fantasy, the Dark Angel of Streatham is a truly angelic disposition. This curious journal, one of several produced by the Felicitly named Swish Publishing Company, contains articles on every aspect of male subordination. The self-proclaimed bitchandida offers advice on penile restraint, squatting power, high heel worship and other strange customs, not all of them hygienic. There are letters from inspired and aspiring domes and photographs and drawings of enslaved men and their stern or mocking captors. There is a madam of the month who for some reason, known only to the editorial staff, is usually obese. These necklace neo Nazis, for sure most of them pretend to be, are probably loving and responsible mothers, favourite aunties, cherished grannies to their victims. However, they are superior beings with the power and indeed the right to terrify. For the disinterested reader, the fascination of Madam's in A World of Fantasy lies in the leafly battered English its zestful contributions employ to describe their erotic practices. The commanding Miss Kinida and her saucy sisters in Nicotyrany lash the tongue of Shakespeare and Milton as if it were the collective bottom of innumerable degraded men. They render it a lifeless thing, a mess of dismembered syntax, of stupid punctuation. These annihilators of language and restrain restrainers of peniles often go about their work in the appropriate setting of a dungeon or a torture chamber. Neither sinister cell would be found in Cranmore, where the kinky bondage fellows of yesteryear were also required to be licensed jesters. Lady Dominia liked her expert discipline in a happy atmosphere, with only the occasional glare from the leather clad Magda to menace the grovelling pranksters. Sometimes when Cynthia was twacking Mitch's backside, call yourself a squadron leader. You couldn't fly a bloody kite. She had to curb her natural desire to laugh. Kene Canida and her cohort Would be shocked by such irreverence. A superior mistress may mock, but she must not acknowledge the absurdity of her undertaking. Cynthia has a healthy sense of ridiculous. Not for her the rack, not for her the thumbscrew, those deadly instruments, so suggestive of real terror, of real agony, have never been seen among the Cranmore properties. Fun can be had with a riding crop, but pain of a different order is attendant upon the appearances of medieval castles. Gentlemen who wanted to be frightened senseless by a dom femme were advised by Cynthia to contact certain ladies in the Earl's Court area, one of whom has a fully equipped operating theatre in which he performs as a practically splashy surgeon. The kinky bondish fellows who visited Encourt Road and Ambleside Avenue were merely reduced to a state of pleasant exhaustion and were fortified by poached eggs on toast before returning to the normal world outside. There were sore behinds and strepping then. No one ever left Cranble with an unsightly scar, a debilitating wound. The discipline afforded slave Rodney and Slave Philip therefore was and is of a subtle nature. Both men still wait upon Lady Domania, but they are not severely punished in the process. They are insulted but not injured. They are blissfully happy when they are told off for not doing their household chores properly. If Madame is more than usually displeased with Slave Philip's work, she ties the unfortunate skiver to a leg of the kitchen table and commands him to eat out of the dog's bowl. Except of course that Slave Philip does not consider himself unfortunate. To be chained up and made to take his food on all fours is very ecstasy to him. Slave Rodney likes to lowly too, though in a different manner. Slave Rodney likes to be lowly too, though in a different manner. This gentle, charming man in his sixties began his working life in service at the age of twelve. He cleaned the boots and shoes off of the gentry in a large country house, and it is this task that even today affords him most delight. He remembers an occasion during his puberty when the cook and an extremely pretty maid servant both ordered him to polish their lace up boots while they were wearing them. The maid taunted him as he worked. And his penis became erect to his acute embarrassment. He then ejaculated for the first time. Years ago, when Rodney was nobody's slave, he asked his young wife if he could kneel at her feet and clean her shoes. She asked him, in turn, to explain his odd request. He did so, in what, for her, was upsetting detail. She told him that she found him disgusting and perverted, and that she would never, never satisfy him in such a revolting way. Their sexual life stopped at that moment. The marriage was sustained for the sake of their daughter, who herself is a mother now. Rodney is a responsible man who loves his child and revels in the company of his grandchildren. Rodney would have continued living in extreme physical frustration had he not chanced upon a contact magazine containing an advertisement from Cynthia. The shy and recent works manager summed up summoned up the courage to write a reply, and as a consequence visited her in Alden Court Road. She listened to his story and expressed neither disgust nor revulsion. She understood his need to repeat. However, approximately that unforgotten event of his boyhood. She told him she would help him do so. His was a familiar predicament, she assured him. Cynthia was immediately impressed by Rodney's exquisite manners. I was too. I watched him at a special party that he and Cynthia attended in the summer of nineteen eighty one for a number of disabled people, and was moved by the unforced kindness he displayed to them. There were two men present who could not go to the lavatory without assistance, and that assistance was amabily and enthusiastically supplied by the unembarrassed Rodney. Slave Rodney has been a happier man since he made Cynthia's acquaintance. He spends most weekends trying to come to terms with the garden behind Crammell, which is large enough to require more than a day's attention each week in the summer, spring and autumn months. He trims the lawn and cuts back the rose bushes and dead heads of the flowers to the best of his ability, considering the short amount of time he manages to devote to it. The garden is in a remarkably healthy condition. His reward for working with such application is to be called into Madame's presence and ordered to clean her footwear. Madame taunts the servile wretch just as the pretty maid servant taunted him nearly half a century earlier. Slave Philip, a polite young man who sells insurance in the home countries. In the home counties, wrote Cynthia Litter of application that she found irresistible. A sizable quantity of the letters she received while she was running the brothel were in fact left unanswered. Men who boasted of their massive equipment or promised endless orgasmic bliss were written off as Jack, my lads. They come when they're writing that stuff, she told me. They're a waste of bloody time. Slave Phillips' style struck her at once as being genuine. Dear Madam, I've just received my copy of Pathway Magazine, and I am very interested to read your advertisement. For a handyman, gardener, domestic servant, so I am immediately writing to beg you to consider my application for this position. I expect you have received many hundreds of replies from subservient males like myself all begging to serve you, and I fear that I am too late, and that you are already suited. However, I am nevertheless writing in the forlorn hope that I may be fortunate enough to be granted an interview. I am truly submissive by nature, with many years training in all aspects of slavery. I do assure you that I am honest, hardworking, and reliable, and I would dearly love to work for you, obeying all your instructions implicitly and to the letter, no matter how unreasonable or unfair they may be. I am very broad-minded and completely unshockable, and I am prepared to accept any humiliation, degradation, abuse, and punishment in the course of my duties if it so pleases you. I am skilled and experienced at all aspects of decorating and home maintenance. I possess a complete range of tools to cover all eventualities. I am also a keen and enthusiastic gardener, and I am capable of being left to work unsupervised. I can tackle all domestic duties, although my ironing leaves a little to be desired. I always work, I always work painstakingly, and I strive for perfection as past experience has taught me that few mistresses are satisfied with anything less. Of course, I am perfectly happy to work entirely unpaid, and I will also provide all the materials, etc., required at my own expense. I also expect to pay a reasonable fee for the honour and privilege of serving you. You state in your ad that foot fetishists are welcome. Well, at the end of a hard day's work, I would love nothing more than to curl up at your feet and kiss and lick your shoes or boots devotedly and passionately for as long as you permit. I desperately hope that you will be kind enough to consider my plea, and I enclose a stamped, addressed envelope and anxiously wait to hear from you. Yours obediently, Slave Philip. The obedient Philip was granted an interview, as a result of which he was instantly employed. He proved to be bloody wonderful at scrubbing and polishing, but Philip is no ordinary domestic help. When he is scouring the kitchen sink or cleaning the silver or giving the walls of the lounge a fresh liquor paint, he is naked, except for his wristwatch and wedding ring. His being in the nude makes it easier for his fault finding mistress to flay his behind if she finds him negli negligent of his duties. He has never been that, but it is essential for him to be told that he has been. A bawling out excites him and spurs him on to greater effort. Early in his marriage he went out drinking with his wife and some friends one night and got rather drunk, which is something he rarely does. Returning home, he and his wife had a row. She complained about the state of the kitchen floor. For once, she said, he could clean it. She'd done it too often. He had already started to undress when the order came. He removed his remaining clothes and set to work with a mop. He was strangely elated, he recalls. His docile wife had seldom been angry with him before, and her sudden, unexpected display of temper made him realize precisely what stimulated him sexually. She has not been angry with him since. Like many of the men who used to visit Cranmore and the house in Elden Court Road, Philip is unhappy with the physical side of his marriage. He would be a contented man if his wife could will herself to abuse him occasionally and insist that he do the housework, but she cannot, and has made it clear to him that his is an impossible need for her to gratify. There are times Philip confesses when he is anxious, nothing less for some sterner discipline than Cynthia is willing to provide. It is then that he drives to Matlock in Derbyshire, where his other superior mistress lives. This fearsome lady has a daughter who shares her compulsion to reduce men to their proper level, and the two of them often join together to reduce Philip to his. The Matlock mistress takes Philip by car to a secluded spot in the high peak where she commands him to undress. Assisted by her eager daughter, she binds Philip firmly to a tree with a length or so of strong rope. She picks up his clothes and throws them on the back seat of her renold, and informs the naked slave that she will return if she feels like it, but if she doesn't feel like it, she won't. The two women then depart for a day shopping in Derby. Imagine Philip's distress as the afternoon wears on. Imagine him at nightfall with only birds and scampering animals for company. Imagine him in midsummer when that rugged region of the English countryside is a favourite haunt of Taurus. What if one or more wandered into the thickest and discovered him? Imagine him in the small hours, chilled to the bone and convinced that his mistress has finally forsaken him. Philip ejaculates more than once before his baleful mistresses arrive. Unlike poor Onan, the dispersive inventor of Coitus interruptus. He is not slain by a displeased god, though he is the recipient of several jibs from both the Matlock Mistress and the Mistress Manique. They ridicule him as they release him, and he is properly humbled. It is a refreshed Philip who journeys back to the home counties and the selling of insurance. He has faced the worst that a slave can endure, and is now in the right frame of mind to enjoy the reproaches of his strepham mistress. He cannot wait to give Cranmore a furrow spring cleaning. He cannot wait to give Cranmore a furrow spring cleaning. In her party giving days Cynthia would command Philip to make the house ready for her guests. On those occasions the girls were invited to tease him as he went about his various tasks. They interrupted him as he slaved away. Another cup of coffee, Slave Philip. And be quick about it. Slave Philip, you have been ordered to bathe me. Do up my zip, slave Philip, or you'll get the back of my hand. Slave Philip responded to their demands by thanking them for giving him the honour of proving himself useful, though in his next breath he apologised for his inadequacy. Right, that is where we're gonna leave it for today. And yeah, I hope everyone's having a lovely good week. And we will continue with this next week. This has been Pulse of Victoria with Behind the Panel Podcast. It's very interesting the language I find that Cynthia uses of the good old days where she talks about obese madam's mistresses being on like the front cover and things when I feel like that would be very progressive. But the fact that she says obese that really makes me wonder what they actually look like. So I did a little bit of research about the magazines, and I've seen a few of the front covers, and I'm not being funny, but I wouldn't say the women on there are obese. Um maybe back in the day, obviously, I feel like they had different standards on what women should look like, but the nerve to say that the women on there were obese. They were bigger, yeah, be big, beautiful women, but not even like some aren't even that. I would just say they have curves. Crazy. I don't know. Like, I'm starting to get to know Cynthia quite a bit in this book. Um, and I feel like this book definitely shows the times and what it was like because I genuinely think me personally being a dominatrix, I get way more burn out from doing that than I do escort work. With being a dominatrix, you're using your mind, you are constantly thinking about what scenes you can do, and if anything goes wrong, what can you do to fix it? Like your mind is always going so so fast, and it's not as simple as uh just like whacking somebody with a riding crop every now and again. No, it's quite constant, it can be. So I personally would say being a dominatrix is much more complicated and draining and comes to burnout faster than an escort. We've also been a dominatrix, you have role play, you can have storylines, you hear your client talk about their life and their personal experiences, and sometimes you have to make note of that as well. Um, you don't get that as often in escort. Now bear in mind I've been doing this for nine years, so I have been doing it for quite a good while. And the bit where Cynthia talks about, oh, if the wife um of Philip could just, you know, spank him every now and again. No. Just no. That's not a healthy relationship. Just straight up, it's not. I would never want my partner to do something to me, uh, which they weren't comfortable with. In fact, I was in a relationship like that, and it didn't feel right. It did it just felt it made me feel uncomfortable and them uncomfortable as well, because I knew that they were doing it for me. And I mean, my previous partner, one of them, did say just like, oh yeah, I'll do it for you because you want me to do it, but no, I I want to play with somebody who has the want to do it and the joys out of doing it. It's me personally, I do not see it as healthy just assuming and telling your partner that we need to do this for it to work, and you want them to feel uncomfortable. Like that that's not okay. There needs to be something else, like going to a mistress, but there also needs to be like a big conversation about what needs to happen because when it comes to being sexually active, for some relationships, that is a massive part of just being healthy, a healthy human being. I know that I could never have a vanilla relationship. I need somebody who's kinky. I I want somebody who wants to like tie me up and spank me and all this stuff. Oh, I'm a switch as well. So I'm submissive and I'm a dominant at times. Um, so yeah. I personally reading this book, we're near the end. I think we've got less than a hundred pages left. I feel like Cynthia very much still wants to please men in her way. Also, can we just talk about how that guy's list of what she needed to look like and what she needed to wear? Like, I've had that before. A hundred percent, and it's kind of crazy that he's just like, Yeah, do this, do that. Every person is different, every person is different, they might not like what she wears, or you know, how she acts and things. The clients fall in love with your character, your facade, or just yourself, which can be very dangerous, and you have to really be careful. And when she talks about Janet falling in love with such a normal man and how she's fortunate, and you know, she's an ex-prostitute is not everyone's idea of a good catch. Um and she says about how he's special like what I'm sorry, like clearly this is just a different generation. But if your man does not accept you for who you have been, for who you are, and for who you will be, do not date them. Stop right there and go find somebody else if you want to be with somebody else.

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You d no.

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There should not be any Oh he's special. He like no. No. Does he understand what women have had to do and what they have had to put up with? No, probably not, because he's a man. And he doesn't and we'll never understand fully. But to say that he is special because he has picked somebody who is essentially what? Broken or damaged and has a history of sleeping with men or being a deviant. No. I like as I said, this is just a totally different generation. I am being fucking thankful for no to no man when it comes to when it comes to them being with me because I have a job which is taboo. Like, no. No. I I'm I'm bankrolling right now. I've like I no, like I will be completely honest and say that it is very hard to find a man for myself because I have so many checklists. Um, but the main one is financial responsibility and security. That is lacking, which I found in the dating area. Um I've been dating, going on dates and things for I think uh over a year. Yeah, yeah, just for over a year now, in and out. And I've met nobody who one is close to their financial status that I'm at. Uh secondly, who has got their freaking life together, knows what they want to do and achieve in five years, and is a decent bloke. Like, I have loads of checklists, which is absolutely fine, but not damn once have I ever said that I'm so fortunate for a man to be with me. Fuck no. They're fortunate to be with me. And practically all of their sugar mummies, all my exes. I have a house, I have a great life, I know what I want to do in five years, I have impeccable fucking taste, and I'm the loveliest fucking gift giver thinking about other people and everything like that. Uh no. No. I'm not fortunate for a man to be near me or anything. I've never heard something so silly. That is the type of things which people who are anti-sex work say. I I'm not gonna carry on. But no. No. So this will be all. Thank you for listening to my TED talk about how men should just be thankful for women looking at them in the first place. Whether that woman is into BDSM or is a dominant or not. There is a male loneliness pandemic going on, and there is a good fracking reason for it. So, yes. Okay. This has been Paulson Victoria with Behind the Panor Podcast. Thank you for listening.

unknown 52:53

Bye.