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June 21st, 2007

When A Client Dies-Part 1

Sugar Maples in a Rye Cemetary, New Hampshire, USA

When a regular client stops calling often I don’t know why. Perhaps he’s gotten a girlfriend, or moved on to another pso, or maxed out his credit card one too many times talking to me. I can’t call him up demanding answers. Such is the nature of the business.

Sometimes when my older clients have vanished I’ve wondered if they’ve died. For the most part I can only guess but I do know of two clients that have passed away.

The first client was nicknamed Crazy T. He was in his late 70s. He called me obsessively for two years. He become a favorite caller when I was in school. I was in the midst of an intensive term and didn’t have time to do many calls. My brain was zapped from the course work and I didn’t have the energy to deal with demanding callers.

CT was an ideal client. He said I could call him any time and talk for as long as I wanted. He meant it. I would come home for lunch and call him up to talk for an hour. Later that night I would call him again and talk for an hour or two before heading to bed. There were many days where CT was the only client I talked to.

The calls themselves were amongst the easiest I’ve ever done. Once we settled into a routine I could even eat or read while talking to him. How? CT loved the idea of torture. He wanted me to hurt him in multiple ways-spankings, floggings, canings, whippings, nipple piercings, cock and ball torture, cutting, face slapping. The list seemed to go on endlessly. The beauty of CT was that he did most of the talking. He would ramble on and on about one of the above tortures. I could hardly get a word in, indeed he didn’t seem to need me to talk much at all.

When he wanted me to talk he would ask me to say something specific. “Say you’ll torture my balls Mistress.” I would say “I’m going to torture your balls by kicking them until you cry.” Then CT would be off again rambling, moaning and rambling again until he wanted another specific statement from me.

Why did I call him crazy? Because the longer we talked the more incomprehensible his ramblings would become. Near the end of the call they sounded more like mutterings than meaningful sentences. He often would chant words. “Torture” was his favorite. He would literally chant “torture, torture, torture, torture” over and over for minutes at a time. If he was talking about licking my pussy he would chant “lick it” or “suck it” repeatedly.

It was a perfect match for my busy schedule. I didn’t have to concentrate on CT calls. I often put my headset on mute and ate my meals while he chanted. I was able to do homework while he read me long passages from his retro SM books or chanted his favorite kinky words.

He called other ladies and his constant calls with me eventually thinned out. But his obsession had so perfectly timed with my intensive term that I didn’t mind when he started calling less. He was there when I needed a caller just like him. His calls became more sporadic and then faded away completely.

Around a year later I heard from another pso that he had died. His health had been steadily getting worse. In addition to medical problems he was an alcoholic slowing drinking himself to death. I didn’t cry for him nor did I grieve. But I did have a moment where I paused and reflected. Unknowingly he helped me during a period where I still needed to make money but didn’t have much time. And I had given some excitement and companionship, albeit it over the phone, to a lonely old man in the last years of his life. Though we never met we both helped one another in our times of need.

For part 2 I will talk about the Latex Geezer. His case is far more complex and deserves a post of its own.

Posted by Vixen as PSO Confessions at 9:44 PM CDT