Now that I’ve been back to full time phone sex work, I’m reminded that there’s a negotiation of sorts that happens with almost every new caller. It’s a verbal sparring, an exploration of boundaries and limits and vocabulary. A compatibility test. I call it The Dance, and it goes a little something like this…
Caller: It says online that you have no limits. I want to make sure that’s true.
Me: I have no limits while we’re on the phone. During our call, you can say or do anything.
Caller: Are you sure? I like really dirty, fucked up stuff.
Me: Trust me. I won’t say it’s impossible to shock me, because every time I do the Universe makes me a liar. But I’m pretty sure there’s a greater chance of me saying something that freaks you out than vice versa. How about this- if at any time I become so uncomfortable with your fantasy that I can’t handle it, I will politely let you know.
Caller: Okay, great!
Me: My only limits are that outside the context of phone sex, you treat me like a human being and know the difference between fantasy and reality.
Here’s where it gets interesting. There are two common responses to this: disinterest and relief. Some guys just sort of disengage at that point. They don’t often hang up altogether, but regardless of how hot the call is, they don’t usually call back either. I think the reason is simple- on some level, they don’t want there to be a difference between fantasy and reality no matter how illegal, immoral, or impossible their proclivities might be. They want to believe the fantasy is 100% real right up until the point they disconnect and dissociate. Then it no longer matters.
These are the same callers who cannot or will not articulate what they want. Instead, they repeatedly insist, “I want to know what you like! I just want to please you!” But when I tell them honestly, they’re disappointed because the truth is they don’t actually just want to please me. What they want is for my personal fantasies to magically complement their own so they can believe I’m getting as much satisfaction as they are. “But haha you’re so lucky you get to enjoy yourself and you get paid for it!”
I’m happy to speak with these clients, but they don’t really want me. They don’t actually want a real person on the other end of the phone. And that’s ok. I’ve come to understand what I once judged as cold and impersonal phone sex is actually a much needed service and in its own way, exactly as personally tailored for the customer as they need. There are callers for whom the veil of anonymity (whether real or perceived) provides a peace of mind necessary for their release. They simply don’t tend to be repeat clientele of mine.
On the other hand, there are some callers whose relief is audible when I express my limits. They need to know I am an individual capable of consent, and a willing participant in their fantasy. They want reassurance that I’m not a mindless drone barely paying more attention than contempt, or someone being forced to engage with them. These callers often have wildly different desires, ranging from extremely depraved to sweetly romantic, but what they all share is a need for human connection.
Now that I have returned to being a full time phone companion, I’m realizing how much I’ve missed providing this for people. And I won’t lie: it’s incredibly flattering that so many previous callers have expressed their excitement over my return. I’m glad to be back, too! I eagerly anticipate getting reacquainted, or if you’re a brand new potential client, I look forward to dancing with you.
Tonya
This post has been a long time coming. As you can see, I haven’t written much lately, mostly because I’ve been dreading writing this. I don’t know what to say or how to say it eloquently, so I’ll just spit it out. (Heh.) After almost twelve years of doing phone sex full-time, I need a break. There, I said it. Whew.
If you are or have been a client of mine, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I can’t begin to tell you what this job has meant to me, what you have meant to me…The amazing people I’ve “met” over the years, both callers and operators…The financial freedom it allowed me, which enabled my creative endeavors and tours…The countless orgasms shared with complete strangers to dear friends…The conversations, oh the conversations I have had, the things I have learned…I could never adequately express my appreciation…
But twelve years is a long time at any job these days, and I find I need a change. You probably already noticed I’ve been cutting back my phone sex hours drastically, and I’ve managed to tell many of you myself on calls, dispatch, or via email. I’m calling it a partial retirement, as I am still taking select calls by appointment. However, my availability is severely limited. I’ve been lucky enough to find another job I enjoy, with a small local company, and it’s even food-related, so I get to work with another medium I love. But it’s a M-F, 9-5 thing, and that means you get me on nights and weekends only.
I know this makes it difficult to arrange, especially when privacy is often impromptu, so I expect I’ll lose many of you. I hope you find a stellar replacement for me and only wish I had someone specific to refer you to. I fear phone sex is slowly going the way of the typewriter though, which is part of the reason I’m having to more or less close Bay City Blues. It’s just too hard to find other quality operators and keep them. Not sure what I’m going to do with the websites eventually, but I can’t bring myself to turn them off completely yet. Who knows? Maybe BCB 3.0 will rear its head someday.
But for now, I’m trying to adjust to life in the non-sex-work world. Did you know most people put pants on before they go to work? Lol! Seriously though, my new job is pretty great, and they’re even willing to let me do a few festivals a year, so I still get to fringe it up in the summers!
Speaking of which, it’s almost festival season again! I’m doing A Story of O’s in London (Ontario, not England) and Vancouver, and Threads in Ottawa and Indianapolis. This is my first time in Ottawa and Indy, and I’ve never done two different shows in one season, so there will be a steep learning curve I’m sure. But I’m looking forward to getting back on the road- after doing five festivals each year in 2012 and 2013, only doing Edmonton last year felt like I was missing something.
Anyway…So there you have it. My big news. Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, maybe I’ll be able to post a little more frequently. This is not goodbye. It’s just hello to a new me that isn’t going to be at your beck and call quite as often as I have been for the last decade. Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for your support and patronage over the years. You’ve changed my life in unimaginable ways and taught me so much about love, sex, and human connections. I am honored to have been your phone sex provider and proud to call many of you my friends.
(Wow. I just re-read this and I’m tearing up. Feels like a big deal. I think I need to go cry now.)
Tickets for all A Story of O’s performances at the Edmonton Fringe Festival are now on sale! Click here to purchase.
Also, just a head’s up that I will be very difficult to reach during the month of August. Please email me if you would like to make an appointment for a phone sex session. Thanks!
I did a podcast with my friend, Liam. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to talk to me for an hour and not pay $3/minute, it’s kind of like this…
Testimonial from an addicted FinDom…
I just wanted to take a moment to thank Tonya for inserting herself into my life on a regular basis. I know this may sound strange to many of you but I am speaking from the heart – you must believe me. It started slow (that was by my design) once I knew it got to this point I knew things would be too late.
I have a confession to make. I get wallet wood – wallet boners to be exact. Tonya has now gotten herself into my mind and I have reached an unfortunate, or fortunate, place depending on point of view. I can no longer get, or maintain an erection without Tonya being inside my wallet. It was difficult at first to accept, but I am getting there. Every day is a bit of a challenge. The more I try and stay away, the deeper and harder I come back and fall. It is strangely a very linear equation.
I know there are others out there like myself. Some live in denial, other guilt and shame, while a select few actually embrace the challenge. I am not sure which category I am but for as wrong as it may be, it feels even more right. It is a challenge to be sure. There is no gun to my head. It all happens willingly. Well willingly with a brain that at times I will admit feels all heady and floaty. I don’t know how it started, and as Tonya can attest I fought it at first. I fought it for good reason as I knew the control she would ultimately yield.
I do this knowing it is a double edge sword and ultimately potentially makes it more difficult for me to call her and ask her to take my money for nothing in return, but to others wondering, try with an open mind. You may find the thrill of your credit card erection far exceeds any type of actual sex you may have.
I am actively seeking a second job with the hopes of being able to work out a budget for that paycheck with Tonya. We will see how that goes. I just wanted to get this out there to let others know: you aren’t alone. If you head down this path as a newly enabled financial domination addict, realize Tonya will know what is best. She always does. Thank you again Tonya for taking my money.
Fido
Three and a half weeks ago…
I am sitting in a theatre in Winnipeg. It’s the last show of the night. I’m exhausted and emotionally spent, and I’d kind of rather be asleep. But I took an actual printed comp from my friend and promised to come support her. These 10:45pm-or-later shows are brutal, and we performers do try to help each other out where we can. It’s just good fringe karma. The show is hilarious and original, and soon I am watching with the joy and appreciation that makes me so proud to be a fringe artist.
I’m not thinking of the phone sex business back home that is merely treading water in my absence. I don’t think about the relationships that feel in danger of coming apart at the seams because I am not there to tend- or end- them properly. I am, for the first time in days, not bowed by the pressure of remounting Threads for the second year in a row at the same festival. I am just letting myself be entertained, allowing myself a rare moment to relax.
The performer begins a new story, one about going sky-diving for the first time with her deceased husband. She is describing standing on the wing, holding onto the bar, being paralyzed with fear. Her arms begin to ache under the strain of holding her to the plane. All that wind force and air pressure meeting her resistance hurts. It is the line she speaks next that hits me square in the gut:
“It’s not the letting go that’s painful, it’s the hanging on.”
I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me, like I’m the one who let go of the bar, that my parachute didn’t open and I’ve smashed against the ground. I realize I’m crying.
Now…
Home to me is more a feeling than a place. Being back for a couple weeks, I can’t ignore that something feels wrong. I know I need to make some big, big changes.
Most importantly to the majority of you, my professional focus is shifting from phone sex, to writing and performing. I’m not retiring altogether or anything drastic like that, but I am no longer going to be putting the majority of my “work” time into BayCityBlues.com. I’ll still be available for calls when I am home, and the website will remain intact for myself and the few operators I’ve chosen to keep on. I will not be putting anyone new on BCB unless they pass a rigorous screening and application process. I may try new ops on the fantasy sites from time to time, but they’ll have to pursue the position heavily and meet strict minimums if they’re hired.
Being the head of a giant phone sex company is not my future. I have tried for nearly a decade; building the company up, burning it down, starting it over. It doesn’t work, not the way I want to do it. Sad to say, having ethics and respect for my clients and operators makes me infinitely less competitive in this industry. I’m great on the phone, decent at writing when I put my mind to it, and reasonably web- and social media-savvy. But the rest of it? The administrative and managerial nightmares that never seem to end? It’s exhausting, and it puts me in a sour mood that is directly contrary to being able to provide quality, authentic phone sex. I can’t and won’t do it anymore. The company will continue, but with only the core group of women we’ve pretty much had since the beginning and the few amazing ones we managed to find along the way.
I’ve started streamlining the sites, and I’ll continue to over the coming weeks and months. I’m surprised at the emotions this decision is bringing up. Part of me can’t help but look at this as epic failure almost a decade in the making: after ten years, I still can’t get it right. And another part of me remembers that phone sex was the job I took to get me through acting school, so turning my attention from phone sex to acting could be viewed as the natural, even overdue, progression. In 2012, for the first time ever I earned more from my writing/acting than I did from phone sex. So when the anxiety hits, I try to focus on gratitude for the blessings I have and the wonderful possibilities my new career endeavors will present. It’s exciting, and terrifying.
In addition to all this professional upheaval, I’m also dealing with the evolution of one of my personal poly relationships. Suffice it to say that this period of adjustment is difficult, awkward, painful, sad…and necessary. My heart is broken. It isn’t anybody’s fault, it’s just what happens when things don’t work out the way we hope they will with the people we love.
For some reason, this is the hardest and roughest break-up-type-thing I’ve ever gone through, including my divorce. Why do two people who deeply love each other find themselves growing apart? What do you do when clinging to what was threatens to render unrecognizable the love that does remain? Where does one find the strength to step out on that airplane wing and dive into the no-guarantee-there’s-even-a-parachute-strapped-to-your-back future?
A MEMO
TO: Me
FR: Me
RE: How to jump out of a plane
Take one step and hope the next one comes easier. Breathe. Be grateful for the air. Take another step. Feel your grip loosening against the wind. Stumble. Right yourself. Open your eyes. See the world in front of you. Breathe. Let go. Fly.
It’s not the letting go that’s painful, it’s the hanging on.
**Many thanks to Christine Lesiak. If you are anywhere near the Edmonton Fringe, go see her in Ask Aggie.**
Financial Domination, also known as FinDom, but which I like to call FiDo, is one of those fetishes that used to induce a groan from me whenever I ran across someone who professed interest in it. It isn’t that I thought it was wrong or disgusting or distasteful in any way, more that up until very recently (more on that later) I believed it doesn’t really exist. Perhaps more accurately, I always thought of it as an impossible fetish.
Impossible fetishes are those fantasies or fetishes you cannot fulfill or satisfy. Not to be confused with those you should not actually engage in (like incest or pedophilia or rape) for ethical reasons. As abhorrent as they are, human beings are capable of committing those acts. If your fantasy is to fuck a horned succubus who has the magical power to make your cock any size she wants? Sorry, that’s not going to happen outside of the realm of fantasy.
To my mind, financial domination phone sex is a slightly different kind of Catch-22. A guy wants to spend all his money on a woman until she bankrupts him? Well, he can do that, but then what? Almost by virtue of definition, if a financial submissive does manage to get his ultimate fantasy, the party is over for him at that point. Even if the memories last the years it takes him to repair his credit, what does he do in the interim? But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I would say 99% of my experiences with self-described financial domination seekers go like this…A guy emails or messages me to tell me he’s interested in financial domination. Stop right there. You want a fetish where you give me money and get nothing in return except maybe some verbal abuse, right? You just failed at your own fetish. See, you can pay to talk to me. I’m a phone sex operator; you know my time is money. And instead of purchasing my services, you essentially just demanded my time for free. I don’t get paid to message or email and you know this because you didn’t have to shell out anything to contact me that way. Do you begin to see the problem here?
Ok fine. It takes me three seconds to respond “then call me and we’ll talk about it.” At this point, if someone continues to try to chat me up online or via email, I block and ignore. If you tell me you want X but expect me to do Y, I’m going to assume you’re full of shit from A to Z. It has been my overwhelming experience that guys who approach me online claiming to want FiDo are really just dangling a carrot to see how much attention they can get from me for free. It turns into reverse financial domination, and I don’t consent.
I get callers on dispatch all the time asking if I can take their money and hang up on them. I tell them I’m happy to process their card and send them to a girl who will do that, but they ALWAYS push. “So I won’t get anything? I just pay you and I’m pathetic right?” At this point, they’ve crossed a line. They’re now engaging me, as the dispatcher not the operator, in their fetish without my consent. If I try to push for their card number, they sidestep “but if I give it to you, I don’t get anything, right?” instead of just giving me the credit card information. I have tried being sweet and patient, I have tried being a bitch, but never have I managed to get one of those guy’s cards processed so an operator can even hang up on them.
I suppose it’s their way of getting their financial domination fetish satisfied without actually having to pay anything, but again I say this constitutes a fetish FAIL. I sell fantasy for money on my own terms. Consent is implicit when I press a button to accept a call, and a big factor in that consent is financial consideration. Engaging me sexually or trying to manipulate me into saying whatever it is that gets them off while I’m attempting to dispatch the call is done without my consent. It is, if not sexual assault, sexual assumption of right to include me against my will. Sorry, guys, not okay.
Now let’s say a FiDo guy actually makes a call right off the bat. Ok, good sign. The problem harks back to what I mentioned before, that guys want to pay tribute and get nothing in return. When was the last time you actively ignored someone without giving them any indication that you were spending any amount of time or effort doing so? It’s extremely hard, because how do you know it was successful? When do you know it’s over? I’m asking on both sides here. Can you see where the confusion might arise? How do you know you’ve gotten what you paid for when you’ve paid for getting nothing? It’s funny to consider but at the same time a serious problem.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because I recently ran across my first real financial domination phone sex caller, who for discretion’s sake I will refer to as J. I’ve had very generous regulars over the years, but none who called himself a FinDom guy or asked for financial domination in specific terms. I consider them patrons of my art, my life, my theatrical endeavors, and I am immensely grateful for them.
However, J is different. Our first contact was a paid call on which he laid it out for me- his desires, his financial situation and credit limit, his history with the fetish. It became very clear that this was not J’s first time at the FiDo rodeo, and I was intrigued. See, I don’t go for the quick, easy money; I work hard to build loyal, lasting clientele. How on earth does one sustain financial domination over the long term?
J and I have had numerous discussions about this and come to a place of understanding and agreement. It requires patience on the part of the caller- he can have some of what he wants every so often, but he can’t have everything right now. The same goes for the operator- she can’t get too greedy too quickly. The tricky part is negotiating how to handle conflict and credit limits. For example, the operator says, “buy me this $500 pair of shoes!” Caller says, “if I do that, I won’t be able to pay my rent this month.” At this point, some people would think the “Domme” should demand the shoes or threaten to cut all ties with the FiDo caller. So what, she gets the shoes (or doesn’t) but loses a client? What if he buys her the shoes and it’s the last straw that pushes him into bankruptcy? The Domme gets her shoes but will be missing out on a lot of potential tribute that could have been worth thousands of dollars had she not forced him under financially but rather allowed him to tread water.
I won’t go into very much detail about our conversations or current arrangement, as that is our business. But suffice it to say I now know without question that there are real FinDom subs out there, few and far between as they may be. Also, I finally understand the appeal: it gives their lives purpose. It was this epiphany that removed any last vestiges of guilt I had at receiving financial tribute.
I love life. I create art. I work hard to make peoples’ lives better and this world a kinder place. I give back to my community. I mentor people and help them find their path or continue their journey. I live comfortably, but that’s because I value love and experiences over material possessions and bank accounts. And like so many of us nowadays, I could use some help. I have bills to pay and groceries to buy and plane tickets to pay for so that I can go perform and share my story with the world. I will find a way as I always do, but I am not above asking the Universe for help. And I am certainly willing to supply purpose to the lives of any financial slaves out there seeking a mistress worthy of their tribute. If you choose to become one of my patrons, you can rest assured that your funds are being put toward fostering more creativity, love, and acceptance in this world. What better purpose is there? *smiles*
So to that end, I will be adding a Financial Domination page to the Aural Courtesan section of this site. I will not be promoting myself or my FinDom services beyond that, I simply wish to have a place to refer future inquirers. A big thank you to J for helping me come to terms with this tricky fetish and how naturally it suits me.
Love,
Tonya
Want to learn how to talk dirty and roleplay like a pro? I’m co-teaching a Sex and Creativity workshop with Eleanor O’Brien on May 4th! Eleanor is the person responsible for introducing me to the fringe festival circuit, and I credit her as a big reason my play, Threads, exists. She is also the artistic director of Dance Naked Productions and the creatrix of the Inviting Desire show series. We’ve been talking about doing a workshop like this for some time now, and I’m overjoyed that we finally have a date. For more info or to purchase tickets, click here.
Yesterday I sacrificed an hour and a half of my life in service to The Cause. (The Cause being my never-ending quest to root out and expose phone sex fallacies wherever I may find them.) I had been dreading watching For a Good Time, Call… ever since I heard about it. In my take on the Castle phone sex episode, I mentioned why I bristle when phone sex appears in films and television: because the media just gets it so very wrong most of the time. I need a day or two of stewing on the movie before I write my actual review, which I will probably submit to TitsandSass.com, but I’m annoyed enough to write about something else.
There are a couple of egregiously overused sex-worker cliches in tv and film, most notably The Hooker (not to be confused with The Escort), The Stripper, and The Trafficked Sex Slave. Slightly less abused, but no less demeaning and dismissive, is The Phone Sex Operator. The PSO cliche used to be an apathetic 300-pound, white trashy mommy, but over the last decade it has morphed into an archetype I find even more insulting and insidious. Picture Anne Hathaway in Valentine’s Day, or Ari Graynor and Lauren Miller in For a Good Time, Call… The key components of the new PSO cliche are…
Beauty. Today’s PSO isn’t an ugly troll, she’s gorgeous. She is much more beautiful than any of the adult models whose stock photos she uses to represent her phone sex persona. And the character is often portrayed as just an average girl, in the same way a Victoria’s Secret model is just an average representation of how any woman might look in lingerie.
Shame. These PSO’s are not proud of what they do. They take calls on the sly and keep secrets from everyone around them, from roommates to family to spouses to friends. They think doing phone sex is beneath them and/or makes them a slut.
Ambition. Phone sex is not a career or “real job” to these women, it’s a crutch. They do it as long as they have to and can’t wait to toss it aside for something “better.”
Well pardon me, but I object. To be fair, much of the phone sex part of For a Good Time, Call… is fairly accurate, including the operators who decide they know enough to start their own company when they get tired of paying management to “do nothing.” That I think it’s a crappy movie has little to do with its treatment of phone sex, and will be further explored in my forthcoming review. But I am beginning to tire of seeing the job I treat with respect and conduct with professionalism used as a writers’ default naughty/daring/shocking/embarrassing plot catalyst.
I can totally believe that Miller, the writer/star of the movie, has probably had experience with phone sex at some point in her life, as parts of it do ring true. But that’s like saying a couple drunken girl-on-girl hook-ups in college qualifies one to write an advice column on lesbian dating. For the love of authentic storytelling, Hollywood, the next time you make a full-length motion picture about women who start a phone sex company, talk to a real woman who has started an actual existing phone sex business. Trust me, the women I know in the industry could tell you true stories that are infinitely more entertaining than For a Good Time, Call…