“One of the five women—the one I see most often because of proximity—doesn’t want to spank me. I want to bring in another woman to show her how I like it done, a loving spanking, but she refused. Women like to be spanked—every woman is submissive, you just have to find that side of her—but few like to spank and do it well. In a loving relationship, shouldn’t she be willing to do anything for me? I can never get everything I want from one woman,” Frederick Ebel, 55—or as he is known lately on SexyPrime, Freddie the Demanding Footman—in a whiny voice.
Beastly Men are leading the news this week—Arnold Schwartzenagger’s confession that he fathered a child with the housekeeper; Dominque Strauss-Kahn’s arrest for the alleged sexual assault of a hotel maid. Exploiting working women, callously disrespecting their wives—they are the current poster boys for bad behavior. A man can have a discreet affair—and by “discreet” I mean not doing it in the marital bed with someone his wife trusts—and be respectful to both wife and mistress. A reader sent his survey responses yesterday with the comment, “I’ve behaved badly, but I am not as bad as those guys.”
His beastly act? He had an affair with his wife’s younger sister, not exactly a minor offence in most women’s book of life rules. As it often is, the cover-up was more beastly than the tawdry act. He shifted the blame to his wife and had her believing she was “crazy”—a delusional jealous shrew. Fortunately her therapist didn’t think so.
Few male respondents, only 17, copped to being Beastly. Frankly, I doubt most are even regular readers because my guys really do love women and enjoy pleasing them. A few more, 19, admitted that they had been beastly once but now were, as one said, “a human being with a moral compass.” 29 of the beastly, or formerly so, credited or blamed “the Pick-Up culture” for teaching them how to use and abuse women or as another man said, “how to score the sexual win with no clue on how to make the second date.”
Before we judge them too harshly, let us pause to remember how many women of our acquaintance aspired to catch a husband by following “The Rules.”
Author Neil Strauss immersed himself in the then burgeoning internet seduction community, became a pick-up artist himself and in 2005 published The Game—a book that (perhaps to the author’s surprise) became the bible for creeps and “creepers”—very persistent creeps—and inspired a multitude of classes, workshops, seminars and other venues offering guidance to the men who have trouble meeting women. Some of those organizations do a good job of helping shy guys learn how to talk to women (like The Art of Charm, run by my favorite guys in that community, A.J. and Jordan Harbinger). But many of the PU specialists teach men how to spot a desperate woman, assess her weaknesses and play upon them to hook up with her. Criticizing her while smiling affably is a common tactic. That makes her even more desperate—to please the schmuck.
Do you know why such tactics work?
ENOUGH WOMEN ARE THAT DESPERATE! (Read the Part One results: Desperate Women.) As Kimmie says of the Freddies, “They are playing a numbers game and there will always be some hits out of their many attempts.” Sadly, yes.
Freddie, an expert at picking “the low hanging fruit”—the women leading lives of quiet desperation, easy pickings— has spent his adult life playing the game.
“I am seeing five women, not all in the same geographical location. They all want more of me. Every one of them would be happy if I could make a commitment to them. I always have women waiting in the wings when I let someone go. At least once a week I pick up a woman on the subway or the LIRR [Long Island Railroad], while traveling on business, even walking down the street. I like the challenge of picking up a woman on the subway or train. I have a limited amount of time to get her phone number. I don’t have any hobbies. I have a high sex drive. I never read. This is what I do.
“Men make the mistake of hitting on women who are outside their range. You see a 50 year old man hitting on a pretty woman in her twenties. Unless he is a multi-millionaire, he doesn’t have a shot.
“I read women before I make a move.”
Freddie needs more than a dollop of tolerance and understanding from his partners. First, he likes to be spanked—and in a certain way. Second, he really likes feet, not close enough to the erogenous zone for most women to enjoy more than the passing toe suck. Luckily for him, he’s always been into older women, who presumably have more patience and surely have fewer partner options than younger women or their own peers who attract younger men. (If I live to 100, I will never be old and desperate enough to become a number on a Freddie’s list.)
Defining “Beastly Men”
Just as we defined Desperate Women in yesterday’s post, we must have a ready definition for The Beastly Man.
Though he no doubt has learned how to pay lip service to pleasing women, he is motivated almost entirely by getting his sexual needs met. He likely claims to love women, but he is a misogynist, maybe with mother hate somewhere in his psyche. “Ladies men” do fall into two distinct categories: the men who genuinely love the ladies and the ones who fake the good feelings while heartlessly manipulating women. The misogynist sooner or later gives himself away in his abusive—verbally and psychologically, if not physically—treatment of women. [See the letter from one of Freddie’s women.] Alas, Desperate Women are “too beaten down” as one reader says to recognize or act upon the information.
I pegged Freddie as a misogynist early on, but his life story did interest me. One of those people who claim “everybody says my life story is a book,” he is actually right. I was studying sexual imprinting when I met him; and it was as if the science gods handed me a perfect specimen. We quickly got a top agent for his memoir proposal; and he had a big publisher on the line, waiting for small tweaks to the document when we met for that ill-fated brunch where he sexually harassed me in public.
The basics of his story—
The Sexual Imprint
“I was 14 when I was initiated sexually by a 60 year old woman. My parents never paid attention or cared where I was. I spent nights with her; and they didn’t notice I was gone.
“This mature femme fatal had not only a shoe fetish but a foot fetish. She would always tempt me with her sexy high heels and sheer RHT stockings, teasing and dipping. Then she would appear quite ‘concerned’ about my staring every time I gazed and I was ‘caught’ in the act.
“She had a plan to curb my inappropriate behavior. She would make me kneel down in front of her and look at her shoes and feet and ever so slowly ‘dangle and dip her shoes until they fell to the floor revealing very well-manicured and painted toes encased in so very sheer stockings. One at a time, always looking for my reaction.
“She said ‘Since you are obsessed, I will teach you the proper way to appreciate feet.’ I was instructed how to properly message them first in her stockings and then without. She would have me close my eyes as she unhooked each stocking slowly from each individual garter. I was then instructed how to remove each stocking ever so slowly with my teeth. She always wore sheer gartered stockings. As each stocking was peeled down her leg and removed she instructed me to kiss her toes and message her feet as I had done with my hands but only now with my tongue. From the tip of her toes to her heels, working my tongue in between her toes and slowly sucking on each toe, and then she pushed each toe and eventually each foot down my throat. She commented that I had a long way to go until I would get it correct and it became a ritualistic part of our relationship.
“She had an Emelda Marcos shoe collection and even her bedroom slippers were high heeled and sexy.
“My lover would set the mood, no the ‘scene’, there was a direct correlation between what she was wearing, where we would have sex, yes often we had raw sex.
The shoes, the outfit and yes when she was indecisive she'd play dress up.
“She was a widow and had a huge collection of clothes, shoes, toys, and ‘ideas.’ She would dress and tease me and monitor my reaction to determine where we would go sexually. If she was hammered(Dewars neet) I had no clue, those where some of the best times.
“It was like the antique road show of sex toys, none of which were delicate it looked as if some had been borrowed from the Spanish Inquisition. I believe her fantasies were more Victorian than 1960's.
“She was very private, lived the life of a lady in public and a slut behind closed doors.
"She had a game where she wrote down a number of sexual activities we would on small pieces of paper and put them in a hat and I had to pick. I later found out she wrote the same scene on each piece of paper. One time she blindfolded me and ld me to the living room where she told me to undress and kneel on a hassock from the love seat. She took a pair of her favorite shoes and took a pair of her soiled panties and somehow tied it around my head so I could only inhale her scent. She then began to jerk me off and then probed me which I was not prepared for but with the snap of the rubber gloves I had an Idea of what was to come. I had an explosive orgasm and she quickly started the process again but with great fervor. I remember being weak in my knee and she saying ‘Don't you move until you cum and that I should think of her scent when I cum.’
“She often focused on my pleasure (when sober) and I never said no to anything she decided to experiment with on me.
“There was the sexy mule which was the drunken whore, where I was expected to be in control. Restraining her with silk ties and if when we go home the "cuffs" were on the night stand I knew where I had to take her to make her cum.
“I used her however I chose and in this 'Mode the more bizarre the better. I remember tying her up spread eagle and shaving all her pubic hair. She resisted and I gaged her with her own moist panties. In the bedroom there was a mirror over the dresser and there where two large armoires that had mirrors on the inside doors so we had a full three dimensional view like a dressing room in Macy's. I had been with her long enough to know what she needed.
“The more she resisted the stricter I became. I remember having her in that position on her back eating her for hours and just before she would climax I would abruptly stop and she would arch her back pushing her vagina into my face and I would pull back even more. She was lying there soaked in sweat and precum juices begging me to let her cum.
“I then decided to blindfold her and began to touch her all over with my tongue from the tip of her toes after very delicately removing her shoes with my teeth and very slowly focusing on her know ‘hot spots’ and discovering new ones. It is amazing her reactions when I deprived her of one or more of her senses how the tactile sense took over and exploded…”
Freddie claims 300 or more lifetime partners, most of whom were older than him, often by some years when he was in his 20s and 30s, with a smaller age gap now that he is 55. He does, however, make jokes about not daring to go to Florida with a lover “because it would be a candy store for me.”
One of his lovers was particularly violent. She whipped him, he says, so badly he still bears the scars and wanted him to beat her face, which, again he says, he could not do. The twin patterns of foot fetish and spanking are his erotic constants.
You can see why his story would interest publishers. Today that 60 year old woman would be jailed for child sex abuse. Freddie would get therapy.
But Freddie blew up the book deal on a Sunday afternoon in an Irish pub in front of shocked diners when he pushed his chair against mine, grabbed my arm, and screamed, “You wore those shoes to entice me! Show me your feet! What are you afraid of?! Show me your feet!”
I got up and moved to the bar where I stayed until he left, screaming, “The deal is off!” as he stormed out past me. He reiterated that in a text message I am sure he regrets sending, firing both me and the agent. Then he refused to pay me a kill fee on the project; and I decided that, before taking him to court, I would take him to my readers.
The closest Freddie came to an apology was this email (followed by threats): “If that really happened I am sorry but I don’t remember a thing.”
Ah, poor Freddie, if only two men hadn’t made little cell phone videos out of your bad behavior—and you hadn’t sent that text—perhaps you would have gotten away with being a Beastly Man by denying all.
I am very careful to protect the identities of SexyPrime readers who send questions to Auntie Sue and regular commentators. You don’t see full face shots on the blog unless an author asks to have his or her head shot posted when promoting a book. I am outing Freddie because 1. He deserves it; and 2. God, I hope his women read this and dump him.
copyright 2008-2011, www.sexyprime.typepad.com; PARTIAL reposts only permitted with link back to original article on SexyPrime