I have all these one paragraph attempts at recalling the sexiest sessions of the week but honestly I just can’t put pen to paper right now … or “finger to keyboard” which is more true but doesn’t sound as romantic. I feel like one of those Charlie Brown comic strips where he’s got a storm captioned above his head or maybe just the word “sigh” with a contorted look on his face.
My stomach hurts so much from worry that I literally cannot stand up straight to walk from my sofa here to the bathroom, I instead look like a hunched over grandmother of 90 years old trying to make the ten meter walk. Instead of answering emails tonight I’ve instead gone over and re-read well over a hundred of your comforting thoughts and wishes , especially the ones that assure me the results of last week’s biopsy will reveal absolutely nothing threatening.
But then, all the brain needs it seems is one grain of doubt that it can grow into a snarling weed of worry , and that’s what I have , doubt and a lot of it. The thing is , I don’t want to be that mellow dramatic idiot who proclaims the sky is falling and sees the sun rise the very next day as per usual. So until there is indeed something to announce I’m keeping a half contorted smile with my lips closed and keeping mum about the situation.
It’s just that , the news is forthcoming , like in 18 hours from now I’ll feel like I’ve been reborn or I’ll be Chicken Little indeed. That’s if these stomach knots don’t do me in tonight. The faucet is dripping over in the kitchen, I’d shut it off but it’s the only sound to keep my company tonight as I sit here and let my mind wander aimlessly. I’ve been thinking about all the amazing things I’ve done these past few years.
I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe.
Lept from the highest bridge in South Africa.
I watched the sun set like fire below the watery horizon in Bali.
I’ve sailed the George’s river to Botany Bay.
Tasted sushi on the slopes of Mt. Fuji.
I”m not even 30 years old and yet, I fear greatly that if tomorrow’s news is not so great then very soon …
So Wednesday is coming quite soon now and though I’m trying not to think about it , or write about it for that matter , it’s constantly there in my mind ; how can it not be? You all have been very kind in your emails, I really appreciate the support.
What I really have enjoyed is the words used by you to express your feelings of emotion towards me have changed from “exquisite, beautiful , hot , sexy , etc” to “lovely , kind , special , and other words of that ilk and for me it’s nice to see that by most I’m looked at as more than a person who just fulfills fantasies.
The sessions I’ve done , especially this past month have been super intense. We’ve (Wael and I) kind of blown the doors off what Tease & Denial can produce in terms of emotion. I suppose I can copy/paste a long laundry list of post-session emails that support my thoughts , but my purpose is not to beat my own drum today. Rather, I’m pontificating on what that secret ingredient is exactly that has propelled the sensuality of these sessions to a new level.
At first I thought it was this stressful thing I’ve been dealing with health wise that has brought out a lot of inner-reflection on my part , and perhaps I’ve been channeling all those “live life to the fullest” thoughts into my sessions more so than I was doing before.
But that wouldn’t describe why Wael’s FemDom sessions are exploding in popularity as the circumstances in her life are much different than mine at the moment. Regarding Wael, I’ve seen her personality change so much recently that I need to consider re-writing her page as she’s no longer the sweet innocent doe caught in the headlights of life that I described her as being last year. She downright gets off on controlling men now. So much so that she persue’s that dominant/submissive relationship with men she dates.
For example , she runs now 2 hours a day in the morning and then another 1 hour at night. While that’s all well and good , what I find so amusing is that she’ll arrange her sessions in the evening so that she can grab the guy by his hair when he gets to her condo and then shoves his face between her legs to suffer the dank dank musk of her unwashed sweaty pussy. She’ll laugh and talk to me over dinner – eaten on her bed in her condo – while the guy is buried between her legs and told not to lick , kiss, or move the mouth in any manner whatsoever.
I ask her why she gets off on it so much and she replies “I like to see men suffer for me.”
Really?
This is the same girl who was sought out by every sex monger scuzzy dirty ass tourist who visited Bangkok before and found her innocence something they could exploit for their sexual benefit. I dare say , If the guy between her legs does so much as think of licking while down there ; she’ll beat him within an inch of his life – and then go back to eating as if nothing happened. To her , a slave is a slave ; there are rules and behaviors that one must follow and its very cool to see that she’s embraced all that I’ve taught her.
As for me , the “denial” in “Tease & Denial” has been deliciously fun to focus on as of late.
I’ve brought every man this past week ; except for one ; to the brink of tears. My thing to do has been to lock guys in chastity after teasing them to the brink of insanity – and then sending them on their way locked up and securing the key to my necklace of 12 keys now. Ya that’s right ; I currently have 12 men in the world who are so addicted to me that I’ve deprived them of the very thing they could call their own – their cock. They can’t touch it, can’t stroke it , can’t cum.
So I got this idea from Dave a few months ago. In that session he hired a girl from the bdsm place in town called Bar Bar to sit under the table at my condo and suck his cock for the full hour we ate dinner. I’ve already had over 15 sessions in a row where I’ve let the guy crawl out of my condo with no relief and a throbbing dick that is so hard I can see it almost thrusting out of the pants of every man as they enter the elevator outside my door.
What I needed was some next level shit. I’m always looking for something that takes guys to the next level of mental anguish , and to do so I called upon that experience with Dave which begat a series of “what if’s” in my mind.
The guy who was the one exception last week , well , we broke him. Way beyond tears.
The guy is 5’10” , ok looking , but he’s one of these guys who’s so proud of his dick. Ok, whatever. I’ve seen more dicks than a gynecologist has seen pussies ; they’re no big deal. I’ve had him locked up for 2 whole weeks – allowing him access to the key so he could shower and keep it cleanly on my orders to do so. But more importantly , he’s been without orgasm for 2 entire months now ; a period of time that has included 4 sessions with me.
I promised him he could cum this session ; under one condition. He had to pass the gauntlet.
This is how my mind works : I see a movie. I catalogue it. Somehow I relate it to BDSM and bring an element of it into my session. It’s cuz I live at the movie theater , every afternoon if you want to know where to find me .. I’m at Terminal 21 Cinema.
But in this case, I recalled a very old Clint Eastwood movie called The Gauntlet. I saw it a long time ago on YouTube I think , and it was memorable to me because it was one of the first movies to give me lesbian hots for a girl. I was in love with the main actresses tits and had several wet dreams back in university scratching my pussy on the bed to the thought of eating her out. Why her? I have no idea. Maybe I was just really horny back then lol.
Anyways, in that movie he – Clint – drives an armored bus through a gauntlet of rifle shooting police officers trying to stop him and though the bus eats about 100,000 bullets going down the main street of town it manages to arrive at its final destination just as it falls apart at the seams.
Wow. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could make a guy fall apart just the same as that bus did?
So I too ordered 5 girls from Bar Bar and lined them up on my living room sofa. When Paul arrived I had Wael the rope bondage expert tie him up so he was totally helpless and in a bit of discomfort from being roped like a pig.
I had promised the girls a bbq dinner at my expense (well , his expense lol) and my living room was decked out with enough food to feed a small army. Each girl was to suck his dick for 20 minutes while the rest of us ate.
His orders from me were to not cum. For if he did, he wasn’t allowed to see me again for a year.
Pssh you say, I know, I can hear your thoughts. Well what you don’t know is that once a man is under my spell there is absolutely nothing he won’t do for me , often at my amusement. But this was no trivial game. It was a test of willpower.
Also, I have to keep in mind that when I regurgitate these events that the guys this story will connect with will instantly want a similar session so let me throw in one caveat. From time to time I get guys who have been seeing me for a while who throw in the towel when it comes to their budget for a session and they propose a John Hammond “spared no expense” Jurassic Park type of session.
I have another one tonight as well that’s proposing 12 straight hours of me and Wael going nasty on him all through the night. I don’t always say yes to them … the feeling / the moment / the timing all has to feel right. You can’t just throw a bag of money at something like this , the dominos have to line up perfectly first. This goes back to what I’m always talking about when I say I’m looking not for quantity of slaves , but quality. Long term relationships allow some very deep exploration into the intricacies of one’s mind.
So this “spared no expense” guy gets hog tied and is so excited from having all these girls giggling at him while being rendered helpless … and I DO mean helpless as Wael is a master technician at bondage now that she’s studying it like it’s a university major … he’s so horned up from the humiliation he starts leaking precum from his cock all over the floor like a leaky faucet. One minute into the first girls blowjob and he nearly shoots his load into her mouth begging her to stop.
Meanwhile I’m making him do trivial things like pass me a fork that’s sitting on the floor 2 feet to his left and he has to wiggle like a worm to fetch it with his mouth … all while the girl is trying to crawl slightly to keep his dick in her mouth. Fun shit.
Not for him though. By the time the third girl started sucking him he was struggling to last even a minute. As soon as she’d start bobbing his eyes would clinch up and he’d contort his mouth calling on all his muscular contraction to hold his cum from shooting up the shaft too quickly. I’d push his body with my foot and he’d plop over on the floor cooling his dick off on the cool ground before i’d roll him over like a sausage so she could do another minute of deep sucking.
When I finished washing his chastity and brought it over to him … he cowered like a dog about to be leashed all the while begging me to finish him first.
“I can’t , I just can’t be locked up again” he said repeatedly.
“Alright I’ll make you a deal” I said. “If you can make it to my washroom and find a way to piss in the toilet within the next five minutes … I’ll let you cum by my hand.”
We were in the living room , for those of you who’ve been to my condo you know it’s a decent distance from the sofa here over to the bathroom.
Ever seen a worm squirm?
This guy plopped and flopped from one side to the next trying to gain an inch of ground towards the washroom … moving as if his life depended on it. With his hands bound to his feet tightly behind his back he had to either inch across the floor using his man nipples , or alternatively he had to scrape his way to his knees while balancing on his forehead and wobble left then right to gain an inch of ground.
The laughter was sonorous. At first we glanced at him over our shoulders but as he slowly but surely made it to the smaller colder tiles on the bathroom floor we all got up in unison to see how he might align himself to piss in the toilet while bound in such a state. I’ll give him full marks for ingenuity though. He launched himself like a springboard diver over top of the toilet from a kneeling position and landed with his head in my garbage can where my blood stained period pads stuck matted to his hair. Well one did anyways, which brought another chorus of laughter from us.
“Well come on let’s hear you piss” I said , “you only have 90 seconds left.”
“It won’t make a sound” he complained.
“Why?”
“Because my dick is in the water.” he replied and after I translated that to the girls they shrieked in laughter yet again. I went over to flush the toilet not really knowing what effect that would have , I just did it for kicks to add to the silliness of the situation and fuck wouldn’t you know it … the swirling of the water against his cock head was enough sensation to let him start to piss. Fuck.
“I”m pissinggggggg , I’m pissssssssing” he proclaimed loudly. Ah the thrill of the hunt, the promise of payment made full.
Now I’ve done over 1000 sessions in my tenuous career as a mistress and never have I seen a guy want to leave my condo more quickly than he wanted to that night. There is a point where the realization of being humiliated past one’s expectations becomes something one can’t deal with at that particular moment I guess. I don’t know, I’m hypothesizing really. Like, he left with jaw dropping speed as the moment we untied him he slipped on his pants , shoes , shirt and practically ran to the door.
Me too, I have these “well that’s that” moments the second the session ends where I slip back into my skin of who I am every day. I wanted these hirlings gone and I was quick to shoo-shoo them out the door politely soon thereafter leaving me with a huge mess to clean up for an hour afterwards.
Once I had showered and curled up on the same sofa all by myself … man I don’t know … it’s like I suppose how a heroin junky comes crashing down after the high has dissipated. I mean, going from that type of evening to immediately going into countdown mode as the 24th slowly but surely approaches, it’s a trip to experience two vastly different long lasting emotions one right after another.
But that’s what I’m saying about the intensity of these sessions lately. This medical thing hanging over me is definitely a catalyst for these swings of emotion. If one were to graph Wael and I in relation to our emotions while in and out of session , she would be a parabolic curve as her love for femdom is exponentially growing , and I’d be a sin wave.
The derivitive of sin(x) is cos(x)
To solve for sin, the variable cos(x) must be determined. I’ll know what cos(x) is in relationship to me on the 24th. God help me.
xx
[one_half][formcrafts id=’10805′ name=’Book A Session’ align=’left’][/formcrafts][/one_half] [one_half_last][formcrafts id=’20566′ name=’Session With Wael’ align=’left’][/formcrafts][/one_half_last]
Dawn has yet to break and rather than the quiet serenity that befells my condo at this early hour , there is an ominous weight in the air as the minutes feel like hours as they pass while I sit and wait for the scariest day of my life to unfold.
It’s been a week of reflection for me. Reflection on the thing that matters the most : life itself. Close friends of mine have always had a good laugh at the cows I paid for to save their lives when they were sick , and the ostriches I’ve saved , the baby birds I’ve nurtured that were found behind my house when I was young. The common thread through all my actions has been to not just to preserve life wherever possible, but to cherish it.
I remember writing in some blog story a long ways back that if I ever were to be laying on my death bed and had my life flash before my eyes ; I’d want it to be full of great things I’ve seen and done, and I think I’m doing a pretty good job staying true to my hopes for my life.
You know, I don’t smoke, I hardly ever drink , I go to the gym every day , I eat relatively healthy stuff … I mean I’m not a perfect eater by any stretch of the imagination but I do stay away from most fried foods.
What I’m saying is , all in all , I think I’m a good girl.
I don’t really believe in god, though I do believe there is more out there , we just can’t conceptualize what that may be because of the unimaginable enormity of the universe. But I’m going to take this moment anyways to walk out to my balcony here before the sun rises so I can get a good look at the stars above , and all I’m gonna say is “please , I’ve earned a bit of good luck don’t ya think? … throw some my way today will ya?”
For those in the know , thank you for all your kind words.
The question is : What are some good tips on how to be a good mistress for my boyfriend / husband ?
The answer in general is : There are none.
My elaboration on the reply draws upon a unique experience I had at one of my few jiu jitsu classes ( I later discovered I enjoyed Muay Thai much more ) where there is a parallel between the black belt on the mat and the mindset of being a mistress.
It was my third class … I know because I only attended four before I came to the conclusion that grabbing a guy by his nuts is equally effective as any technique I’d be learning on the mats. At that time I had the complete opposite sleep schedule as I do now and found morning classes to suit me perfectly , so as the rising sun shone in through the front door of the gym and I was lazily doing my yoga stretches before class , a hulking silhouette yanked the door ajar and in stepped the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen in my short life.
A hush befell the 4-5 dudes that were there to train with me as they gazed upon this massive Russian beast of a man who quite literally could dismember anybody in that gym given the opportunity to display his power. This guys legs were as thick as my body , a product of being Russia’s dead-lifting champion at the time , and he carried himself in the way he walked the way a gorilla would as he strode across his Savannah home.
The black belt on the mat , the one teaching the classes in the morning sprung to his feet and welcomed the Russian beast to the gym , but not in a way where one could sense it was his job to do so. You could read into the formalities of the handshake and introductions that my teacher was subconsciously saying “you might be a gorilla being as big as you are , but make no mistake – I’m the lion in these here parts.”
I was never allowed to fight as I was a complete beginner , but how jiu jitsu classes go is : at the end of the hour of the technique portion of the class begins the thirty minutes where you roll (fight) , and so I was chill about things that morning since I wasn’t going to participate – there was a heaviness in the air one could just sense that this gorilla and lion were going to go at it once the 60 minute bell had rung.
Just as I am a total non-threatening 45 kg soaking wet , my teacher for a guy had the physique of a math teacher. Sure he was fit , but he was neither tall nor muscular. When these two slapped hands to fight , well you could cut the tension in the room with a knife and even I was hanging around in my cute pink gi to see what was about to go down.
They clutched, and then in a display of muscle over mass , the beast tossed the black belt about 5 meters to the left the way a Grizzly would swipe at an annoying bee. Then, to borrow a line from Keyser Soze – my teacher showed this man of will – what will really was.
What was left of that beast of a man after 5 minutes of fighting was a defeated dog crawling on all fours to the corner of the mat , only to collapse in the corner. Then, unrelated to the purpose of this story , my teacher said a great line that I’ll never forget because of how true it was at the moment : “fatigue makes pussies of us all” .
A black belt in Jiu Jitsu is a black belt because he’s put his time in. There’s no ego in who he is because he’s been beaten over 10,000 times on his journey to being a black belt , and in that journey of defeat any sense of an ego gets left far behind. What you have left is a pure distillate of a man (or woman) , a vintage that captures all that is great in a human without all the silly bravado carried by men who haven’t gone through the combine of continual failure.
That definition of a Jiu Jitsu black belt also encapsulates what it means to be a mistress.
I just am. I am because I’ve put my time in with handling men, starting from being subjugated by them , which begat different methods of dealing with them until one realizes they don’t even need to be dealt with in the first place for I am what they so desperately want and the laws of supply and demand dictate they are at my beck and call – and not vice versa. Once I realized that men as a species are laughable at how petty they are , they became as insignificant to me as an ant would be to a boot.
Remember at the end of The Matrix when Neo stopped trying to fight Agent Smith ? That moment he realized everything was a computer program and he said “No” right before he stopped the bullets in mid flight …
It’s not that he stopped the bullets , that’s not what’s memorable to me. What’s significant is he plucks a bullet out of it’s mid-air suspension and examines this thing that could kill him before … before discarding it and letting it drop to the ground. It’s significant because that’s how I see men.
You will also notice in that scene that immediately after the bullet hits the floor the Agent’s in unison lower their weapons. Important detail also, because until a woman reaches the point of “just knowing” they can control men … a man will always be able to sense if she is faking or not.
That’s what I mean by when I say “there are no tips to give” because no “tip” will get by a man’s sixth sense. We’re talking about something primal after all , men have always dominated women and it’s built into our DNA. It’s built into our DNA the same way as the famous hawk/goose experiment showed that it’s a cultural reaction when a baby bird cowers at the sight of a hawk’s shadow.
What follows after this realization is not a game, it’s rather a way of life. Currently as you are reading this, I have 10 guys walking around the Earth permanently locked up wearing 2kg’s of solid metal chastity on their dick 24 hours a day. I don’t do that because they want me to, nor do I do it because it’s amusing , it’s just simply a part of the process of these long term submissive men showing their complete and utter devotion to me.
I told you before when I stopped doing those scat sessions that I’ve evolved as a mistress where I’m always looking to add another man who understands the length and depth required to fully submit to his mistress. To be my slave is much the same as enrolling as a white belt in one’s Jiu Jitsu journey to becoming a black belt … there will be countless failures along the way , there will be a steep learning curve , and it will be a great investment of finance , but in the end … to be fed something as miraculous as my shit is an honor that is of the highest magnitude.
Recently I had a session with a far too gorgeous man to be real. In mid session , while tied spread-eagle upon my bed he looked at me with his rock hard cock staring up at me as well and said “go ahead, you can fuck it , I don’t mind.”
“I am” I said.
In fact, I had made up my mind what to do with this guy the minute I saw him in the lobby , for here was a guy all too used to getting what he wanted and I could tell instantly by the way he looked me up and down he had every intention of fucking me that evening. While he was in the shower before the session I was in the bedroom “lubing up” the fake (but all too real feeling) silicone pussy I use for the occasional session.
“I don’t want you to see me naked” I said to him as I placed the blindfold over his face.
“Whatever you like babe”
Don’t ever call me babe in session. Or even out of session for that matter. When he called me that , it made what I was about to do to him even more sweet. I sat over top of his thigh so he could feel my legs over his … everything to simulate the feeling just before the girl sits down on a guys cock … except it was the silicone pussy I was holding beneath me that slid onto his cock and his hips thrusted up to meet it as i did so.
“Wait, that’s not your pussy” he said quizically.
“No. It’s something 10 times hotter than my pussy.” I replied with a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
Sure enough, no more then 5 seconds after his throbbing cock was sucking up the juice of the rubber pussy he began thrashing side to side to get his cock out. You see, the lube I used … in Thai it’s simply called “Heat” which is self-explanatory no? “Furnace” might be a better word perhaps , but Heat suffices.
I derived more pleasure from managing to find a way to keep pumping his cock with the furnace pussy while he outright screamed bloody murder … yes , I derived more pleasure from that than if I had fucked his brains out all night long … something that just doesn’t interest me in the least.
Am I a lesbian? No. I like cock just as much as the next girl, especially when attached to a hunk like this guy. But it’s on my fucking terms, not the man’s. He gets laid when I want. How I want. Whenever I want .. even if it’s just once a year. So be it .. its my terms.
In fact, I’m much more likely to tease my boy up so he’s ready to explode , then hog tie him and invite his best friend to fuck me while I bend over and smile at my boy’s tears .. and/or rage. Then for kicks when his friend is about to shoot his load I’d make him pull off the condom and shoot his gooy-ness all over my boy’s face.
Just had a session 5 days ago where the guy said specifically that the only thing he didn’t want to do was suck another guy’s dick. Guess what he ended up doing that night? Why? … because fuck men that’s why. Fuck them and what they want or don’t want. There is no want / don’t want with me , you simply do what I ask you to.
And why is that? Why will 99% of all men who come to see me do exactly what I want no matter what it is? Because I seduce them.
That’s the other part I can’t explain how to do. Ok it helps to be smoking hot , and that I am. But whereas other mistress’s seek to control a guy through pain, I seek to control him from his pure desire to want me in his life. I truly , fully, unabashedly believe that I am the thing most men are looking for.
People who knew Michael Jordan when he was at the top of his game said he was crazy in how conceited he was. If you want to be great , that’s the mindset you have to have.
It’s because I know I’m what you want … that makes me irresistible after even one session. After two , well it’s just not fair. Once you’ve seen me three or more times, the question becomes “what won’t you do for me” and the answer is … nothing.
Now how do I go about explaining that kind of conceit to a normal everyday girl who wants to please her man more by playing the part of the mistress for him?
It’s simply not possible. You can’t get handed a black belt overnight, it has to be earned over time.
xx
[one_half][formcrafts id=’10805′ name=’Book A Session’ align=’left’][/formcrafts][/one_half] [one_half_last][formcrafts id=’20566′ name=’Session With Wael’ align=’left’][/formcrafts][/one_half_last]
But then, all the brain needs it seems is one grain of doubt that it can grow into a snarling weed of worry , and that’s what I have , doubt and a lot of it. The thing is , I don’t want to be that mellow dramatic idiot who proclaims the sky is falling and sees the sun rise the very next day as per usual. So until there is indeed something to announce I’m keeping a half contorted smile with my lips closed and keeping mum about the situation.
