Flogging Molly Jeremy

Upon first entering Toronto, I was greeted by a giant billboard featuring, of all people, Jay Leno, staring out upon us visitors with the smug, self-righteous smirk that comes with the knowledge that you have successfully ruined television. His face loomed above the bridge, frozen into a shit-eating grin, as if to say, "Welcome to Toronto! Check out my gigantic fucking chin!"

After checking into my hotel, and giving myself ample time to allow the feeling to return to my ass, I called up Ryan Russell for a dinner/business meeting. This dinner/business meeting was followed by a trip back to his place for some Left 4 Dead/Batman: Arkham Asylum with him and his husband, Jakob (Yes, husband. Suck on THAT, Ex-Miss California).

The next day was my show at GoodHandy's, so my day (up until then, anyway) was far less fun and involved fewer dead zombies. After hours of feverish primping, I arrived at GoodHandy's for my very first Domination/Submission scene.

Taking the stage with Sam Swift, we prepared the audience with a quickie jack-off show, which is exactly what it sounds like: Two guys jacking off on-stage. To be honest with you, the entire thing was surprisingly lax. From the waist down, it was porn, pure and simple. From the waist up, it might as well have been a Kevin Smith movie.

The show itself was far more X-Rated. After donning full-fetish gear, including a leather harness and pants so tight, fitting into them most likely involved massive amounts of Crisco and prayer. The look was both incredibly sexy and, in all likelihood, a tad bit uncomfortable. It was this pair of pants that he first pushed my face against, forcing me to come face to face with his dong. Hot, yes, although all I could think was "Wow, this leather smells wonderful!" Fur maybe murder, but leather is some sexy, sexy murder.

After nixing the pants and actually going down on the real thing (Quite well, I might add. I hate boasting, but I'm quite proud of my ability to fellate Sam. Seriously, have you seen his wang? It's HUGE, and I took that shit to the hilt like a fucking pro), Sam slapped a pair of shackles on me. I'm not sure how you feel about shackles, but my GOD were those things ever comfortable. A little heavy, sure, but they felt terrific. Oh darn, I'll have to remember to ask Sam where he got them if I ever run into him again.

Where was I now? Ah, yes, shackles. Having been shackled with shackles, Sam proceeded to tie me to the ceiling. I'm pretty relaxed about shit like this most of the time, but considering that this was my first time, and that I was flying into this relatively blind, I might have been shaking a little bit. Mind you, according to Ryan I managed to keep my shaking to a minimum, but still, I was a little bit nervous. Especially when he took out the flogger.

Flogging, for those of you who need to brush up on your medieval/sexual torture techniques, involves being whipped (either gently or mercilessly, depending on the level of sympathy in your Dom) with what appears to be numerous short whips tied to one big handle. While it feels pretty good, and while Sam didn't take it to the point where I had any permanent marks, I will admit to a bit of nervousness when he started to gently flog my crotch. Weapons + Boner = Mild Freak Out. This nervousness was not eased when Sam whipped out, of all things, a knife. While I'm no stranger to knives, having someone pull a knife out when you are naked and tied up can be a tad disconcerting, to say the very least.

After me cutting me down from the ceiling, Sam pulled out a fuck bench, a pack of Magnums and a bottle of lube and proceeded to go to town. While I was having a pretty good time, the audience was apparently made up of film students, who spent their time calling out things like "More light on the cock!" and "Get a close-up of the ass!" Apparently, today's porn connoisseur has a deep appreciation for proper lighting.

With the fucking done, Sam made sure we followed Mandy GoodHandy's request for a little auto-fellatio (AGAIN. Talk about blowing your own horn, huh?) After a quick round of self-sucking, which the audience simply adored, cheering on with the sort of affection Roman audiences had for Gladiatorial fights, we capped things off with a facial as Sam blew a load on my face, and I followed suit.

After a quick chat with the eponymous Mandy GoodHandy, who was at the bar drinking a clear liquid that, based on her rather unsteady disposition, was most definitely not water. Not entirely, anyway. Sad to say, even slightly inebriated and tottering along on sky-high heels, she still has more grace and poise than I. After inviting me back in November, I bid her adieu and went home to scrub the lube off of my naughty bits.

The next day, after being given the boot from my apartment, I picked up some ingredients and trecked over to Ryan's place for more business talk, more zombie killing, and some homemade basketti sauce. Sorry to be vague on the business talk, but I have a very exciting project underway, and Ryan has agreed to help me out with it. Woo!

Come Friday, I was back in Montreal, right off the bus and into work. Not two hours in the club, and there was an accident: My kinda-sorta-just-friend, having gone into the back for a dance, happened to step on a broken glass one of the dancers had knocked over and had neglected to tell anyone about. Cue the ambulance. After getting him stitched up and washing the blood off his foot, here we are: Him bandaged up and lying on the floor with his foot up on my poorly put together Ikea coffee table, me on the sofa, about to run out for McDonald's. Such is the life of the world's most unlikely gay porn star.