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Friday, February 24, 2012

Can't believe some people

I had a great laugh today. If you are reading this little blog post you probably know and are aware that, as scene standards go, I’m limited to what I do or talk about in public. So today I got a message from a total stranger on Fetlife.

I can't stop seeing your pics Goddess
I wanna worship you until I die
i can lick and clean your shoes. feet and toes by my crazy tongue
i can do whatever you want
I need to be abused by you
i was born to be your slavedog my Goddess
I enjoy giving massages, foot worship , watersports and any form of body worship desired. i love humiliation including being spat on and pissed on. i am happy to endure pain for my Mistress .”

Where do I start? What is he thinking? Maybe I’ll write back and say, “Oh baby, oh baby, hold me back” (Is any woman so desperate to answer this stuff?) Do you get the feeling I’m not the only person to get this invitation?

Do you believe he said “Hey” to Ms. Margaret? Lea is the only person who must call me Goddess. Mr. R calls me Mistress with a lisp and a paddle in his hand.

The song “If you don’t know me by now… you will never never never know me…. Ah, oooooooooo” is running through my head.


  1. That man OBVIOUSLY has no idea who you are. If he did, he would know that you are much too lady-like to spit!

  2. Ms Margaret,

    Unfortunately, lots of woman get this stuff Ms Margaret. I have never heard anyone be so disrespectful to you. Ever.

    I am glad that you are not answering him; this is obviously a sick individual desperate for attention. Lacking any social skills, this is his way of trying to gain some attention from a respected member of the community.

    I am happy that you did not get this on March 10th. Do not want you to take out your anger on some poor bottom. LOL.

    Respectively and with a big Hug,

  3. ROFL!

    Dear Goddess Davis,

    Sadly, some women out there must answer them and that is what keeps these idiots going. They send out 100 of these ridiculous messages and think 1 out of 100 in replies ain't bad, so they continue to spam the rest of us. Ugh.

    I received a message asking if I would handwash my Master's socks once. My reply was I HAVE no Master and I'm fond of washing machines. I know a few others who received the exact same message. Some folks online just don't have a clue, but it can give us a laugh. So thanks to them, I guess?

  4. Well folks, as many of you may realize by now; almost nothing I ever posted on a message board has been serious...nothing! But I no longer have the venue [or playground] I once covered so verbosely [as a Top one said] and so it came to be that I found a new outlet.

    Yes, I too, receive the repeated greetings from these cretinous whackos, "Hello, do you have any fantasies...?" Yes, of course I have fantasies; feel free to visit my publisher's website and make a selection. "Hi, I really like 'hooking up' with Grannies." You can imagine my response to that one inasmuch as I am on the west coast and this character is stationed in Guam, or Iceland, or even New York City---difficult to 'hook up' without some extraordinarily long appendages. And I'm not even going to address the term, "Granny!"

    But the ultimate display of gross stupidity is when a perfect stranger wants to reach out to me and make his first impression with a photograph of his genitals. It is totally beyond my comprehension.

    That's it! The gloves [even the lacy articles I once fancied] are OFF! I was once commended for exhibiting self control and refraining from 'biting the heads off newbies'...even given a relatively high-ranking title, if I remember correctly. But if I happen to be in a certain frame of mind or disposition, have adequate time, and miss the good old days of harmless bantering with newbies, I will take the initiative and practice my tenacious sporting with these morons.

    I don't believe that responding to these messages does anything to generate more off-the-wall inquiries. Allowing these gentlemen access to a computer is the culprit...it's not my fault.