CALL OF THE DAY: blood and snuff and lines in the sand
I really don’t have a problem with people eavesdropping on my calls, just like in Phone Whore, but when this caller comes on, I shoo people out of the room. No one expects baby rape and snuff fantasies coming through the phone sex lines, but they’re out there. Rather, they’re right here, in my ear and on my tongue, and I want to protect you, keep them far away from you, so yeah, get out of my room and go play with your smartphone in my kitchen.
He never requests me, at first. It seems as though he’ll talk to whatever girl is available when he calls. If he likes your voice and attitude, though, he’ll keep calling, in 10-minute increments, with the age of the baby getting lower with each call. When I find out that I’ll be talking to this baby-fucker, I start the first iteration of the scene with “our daughter” (mine and the caller’s) at a year old. That gives me lots of room for the downward slide. I have done eight or nine calls in a row with this guy, and got down to a two-day old infant.
Make no mistake: these are violent calls. They end in blood and crushing and rigor mortis. I am NOT a fan of the macabre, in any genre, but I think that I’m giving a pretty accurate portrayal of what might happen when a man rapes a baby. And these calls are as simple as they are violent: I learned to do them just by echoing and expanding on his statements, which he repeats and repeats, over and over… “no one’s going to know”, “G. loves his little daughter”, “I don’t give a shit.” Over and over. I listen to myself talking to him, objectively assessing my output, and honestly, my tone of voice, the one he responds to best, makes the scene sound like a liturgy, or a meditation.
Even here, though, I find myself skirting around him and his fantasies. I’m not going to tell you the details; I don’t want people knowing how bloody and dark I can go, how bloody and dark my callers can go.
I mention it in passing in Phone Whore, but I would never have chosen this fantasy to include in the Phone Whore call sequence, partly because it’s really not common and partly because I know that this particular line in the sand is too far out for mainstream consumption. It just is, even though there are some people who seem to have no problems going to see incredibly violent and/or gory movies.
This guy is not my line in the sand, but he is my own personal litmus test, the one I use on myself. If I really believe that all fantasies are fine, that anything that happens in your own head is great, that applies to my baby-fuckers as well as the most straightforward ass-fucking performance I can portray. I believe this to be true. And even while I position him on the farthest outer edges of my phone sex universe, I know that someday I will talk with someone else who will push it out even farther. As Shakespeare said,
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”