This is like that hoary old story about the girl and the dog and the basement. Only, presumably true. (Because why would Dominatrix Next Door make this up?)

Yesterday a client asked me to smother him with peanut butter.

This was bewildering, but it was not objectionable, either. I gamely put on a pair of gloves, smeared peanut butter on my palms, and clamped them over his mouth.

He squirmed a lot and carried on some vague, muffled roleplay about punishment and begging. “Can’t hear you! No one’s going to help you! You’re just going to have to take it,? I declared, refreshing the peanut butter whenever it looked like it was melting down his chin.

He seemed happy. I couldn’t understand what he was on about, but I’m never too worried about a man whose hands are both free to jerk off.

Reprinted here as a reminder. You don’t have to understand a kink to be sanguine about it.

I’m never too worried about anybody whose hands are both free to jerk off.

Thanks to Spanking Blog for the link.