Femdom Blog

Waiting for a femdom session worthy of a blog post is much like fly fishing where most of the time you’re casting your lure and nothin’ bites , nada, zilch.  You guys would have more fun smelling your ball sack than doin’ what I do day in / day out , however ….

Once the line jerks though and the fish is on , oh it’s on like grey poupon … meaning shit’s about to get exciting.

Case in point, this story about Joey the Fish – not his real name but close enough for jazz , as it begins with a J and hey it rhymes as well – so figure it out.

The fish part is true enough though – named so by me for how he constantly waves his hand and says Comme ci Comme ça … “so-so” in French – except he gets the hand gesture all wrong , holding his hand vertical like a fish when he waves it instead of holding it parallel to the ground.  It got to the point while walking around in France with him that I’d actually reach out and push his hand down because it annoyed me so much.  He’d always ask why and I’d never tell him – it’s fun keeping guys in the dark , but after a while I started calling him Poison (totally fucking up the pronunciation of Poisson) and even though he eventually corrected me we just ran with Poison as he said it made him sound bad ass.

Fine.  For our discussion it’s Joey the Fish … and for the record, he was as far from bad ass that one could get.  For one, he’s old.  Like, the kind of guy that makes me look up ancient scrolls to see who he is because he’s before YouTube time.  Two, he ain’t the sharpest tool in the box.  Ever go to a party and come across a dude who’s just taking up air in the room when he speaks?  Well, that’s Fishy for ya.

overloaded uhaulJust like the last two interesting guys I’ve met , I happened across Fishy not in a session but while waiting outside the Louvre Museum in Paris where he literally bumped into my back with a beaten down blue backpack that he had strapped to his chest – the collision of which sent my coffee flying out of my hand.  When I looked behind me with a serious case of “wtf’ written across my face I had to laugh.  Here’s a 50+ year old dude who looks like he said fuck it and ditched the U-Haul back home in favour of not one but two backpacks to carry his lifelong collection of shit with him while rediscovering his 20 year old backpacker self.  Not to mention he was wearing a ripped long sleeved runner’s shirt that was already two sizes too small for him and though it was nearly 9am at the time and rather chilly out he already had sweaty underarms.  “So that’s how you say hello huh” was the first thing I said to him and instantly he replied back “well I’m not used to having a double D tit hanging in front of me, so there’s that.”

I instantly liked that he wasn’t doing the grovelling apology charade that any other guy would do and instead resorted to humour.

So we starting shooting the shit as we had several minutes to kill before the place opened , nothing special , just ice breaking chit chat and ya he’s fundamentally a nice guy so I let him talk cuz he was nervous and meanwhile I was getting ammo as he spoke.

I’d been walking around Paris alone for that weekend back in April so it was fun just to talk to somebody.

We shared this love of art so that morning at the museum went well enough and it ended up being that we spent the day walking around discovering stuff together.  Which led to the next day , and then another and by Wednesday of that week he had invited me to his friends house for dinner – which I instantly thought was going to be a bad idea if I agreed – thinking the place would be full of 60 year old balding men and I’d be the not only the youngest person there but the only chick in the house.  He assured me that wasn’t going to be the case and in fact he promised me there’d be more than a dozen hot young guys there.

“Hot European boys huh?  Hanging out with their … dad perhaps?” my smart ass part of me replied.

“Not quite” he said, and then went on to explain that he’s the team doctor – for a low tier football club in Europe and it was a post season get together of staff and some players.

Fuck, for me that was like ringing the dinner bell at an Ethiopian dog kennel so naturally I bit and accepted Fishy’s invitation.

That night went down quite well , but it was just the entree needed to serve up the rest of the story so let’s not dwell on details of that evening ok.  (A girl needs to preserve her reputation)

So anyways, that April trip ended and then out of the blue last week I get an email from Fishy , except it’s chalk full of Cc recipients – some of the names were of the boys I had met at that party.  You know what the subject was?  A pre-wedding party invitation , a chance for everybody on both sides of whomever was getting married to meet one another.  Since I’d gotten back to Bangkok I hadn’t messaged Fishy whatsoever ,  I just figured it was like two boats passing one another in the night , no big deal.  But I wanted to know why he’d suddenly include me and my email in that huge list …. because thinking I’d never see him again I gave him my Mistress email … the one you guys use.

I texted him and asked him straight away “why the fuck is my name on that email Cc list you sent out?”

apples and applesHis answer was immediate and honest “Oh because you said you were single and that you’d be coming back to Europe in the summer , and as it happens many of the guys attending the wedding party are single as well … and since they’re your age I thought apples + apples.”

When I read that I sank back into my sofa tying to disappear altogether like the popular Homer Simpson meme of him disappearing into the shrubbery.  (totally looked that word up, we don’t have “shrubbery” here in bkk)

See, I’ve recently let go of the notion of getting married.  I’ve matured out of that 20’s phase where it felt like it was something I was supposed to do.  I don’t even keep boyfriends any longer , my name is Lone Wolf on my Steam profile and my Line for a reason … that’s how I’m going to live the rest of my life and I’m fine with it.

Knowing that, can you see the irony bomb that was building up in my brain?

A bunch of guys, some young , football players to boot .. and possibly well off were about to go all due diligence happy on my name and who I was because my email name has the word Mistress in it.  No doubt they’d find my twitter and would piece together “oh damn, that smoking hot girl is a fucking Mistress?  … and she’s coming to the party, oh Happy Days”

Which … gave me a perfect opportunity to pour water – not gasoline on the fire.  And thus I replied … Cc’ing the entire group :

 

“Hey Fishy, pure class move, couldn’t be happier to be the female mare being invited to this collection of absolute broncos.  A few things you should know about me though that may save you some time on the pre-wedding due dilligence.

I am definitely not #1 on the two column list of  girl horses you have in the running for being put out to stud.  I’d have to be loser drunk to dance so i’ll definitely be #1 in terms of people vying to be stone drunk with marinara sauce caked on the front of my dress.

The head shot I’m providing you with is probably more than 15 to 16 years old so expect a few more miles / pounds on the rig.  What you might think is perfectly brown skin is really just the after effects of sucking in industrial weight pollution right from the gas pipe of Bangkok all my life.

While I don’t own my own apartment I did have one in my stable of my man bitches come to mount my two flat screen tv’s on the wall.

I heard Europeans love curved dildos, especially the ones that bend to the left like a zucchini so I’ll be throwin’ a few of those in my purse when I come next month.

Love you all, can’t wait to get it going at the wedding party. “

 

I woke up the next morning with 114 new emails waiting in my inbox.  Peculiarly none were from Fishy , and most were of the ‘wtf was that’ variety or ‘haha that was great’ kind of response.

One though stood out from the others and I feel bad still that I first replied to him in a snarky way – which I’m ought to do when trying to get through such an avalanche of emails sitting in my inbox.  He introduced himself as ‘Dead Head Luke’ in the email as that’s what his friends called him ever since being declared clinically dead at dinner on a Tuesday evening football players only dinner , being brought back to life in the ambulance, and then reporting to football practice the next morning with two electrical scars on his chest from the defibrillator they used on the way to the hospital.

There was a lot more in his email , but I chose only to reply to the Dead Lucas part of his story saying  “Just think , if electrical shocks through your testicles would guarantee you’d come back to life, you could have seen me instead and saved yourself quite a bit of money.”

Bad time for a joke perhaps, but remember – when faced with 100 + emails I’ll always resort to saying something witty if it gets me out of the reply with only a single sentence typed.

The next day after the onslaught of emails coming in had cooled down there was Dead Luke’s email sitting on top of the others and it read “If you promise to leave my testicles alone and just go have a coffee with me in Bangkok , I won’t fret about the money I’ll spend on you.”

I kind  of wanted to see him just to see the scars the defibrillator machine left on his chest … seriously the best war wound story I’ve heard since Tyrion Lannister lost his nose in the battle of Blackwater Bay.

So come the day of his arrival, exactly last Monday, he shows up wearing a Mickey Mouse t-shirt two sizes too small for him , a pair of Khaki’s two sizes too big for him , and a pair of $2 pinkish red flip flops.

“You look fucking awesome in that shirt” I said.

“I know!!” he replied emphatically and then with a double pistol point of his index finger aiming at his foot he let out a totally male like “check out these shoes too miss!”

excellent bill & tedAh great I thought, I’ve been visited by a 2019 version of Ted Theodore Logan , sporting blonde whispy hair and a European accent.  So I whipped out my air guitar and yelled out “Most excellent” … but sadly the reference flew miles over his head.

In the elevator up he smiled over at me and let out a “I loved your email.”

“Oh ya?  What did you like about it?”

“Never heard an Asian girl say the word ‘rig’ before.”

“Maybe you’ve never dated a trucker girl before” I said while giving my chest a double pistol fingered shot of my own.  He laughed , and so the evening began.

Then on the short walk  to my condo he inquired about how my name came to be on the list of Cc’d people in the email and I told him about how I met Fishy outside the art gallery and wouldn’t you know it – he expressed an immediate passion for art and painting as well.

Now it happens from time to time that guys – especially those working in sales of some sort – will employ a technique called mirroring , where they’ll not only feign interest in things I like but they’ll copy everything about me , right down to the way I walk.  I’ve gotten around this problem by sticking my finger up my ass in the elevator – as that’s usually when I first catch wind of what they’re doing.

So Luca (without an S apparently) I thought might be trying the same thing I thought but given that his trade was football and was still a bit young I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Lucky for me, he was genuine for not only did we spend the first few minutes talking about painting but he came right out of the blue with this … “do you have any brushes and paint here now, we could paint something.”

For better or worse , that line changed the immediate course of my life’s direction.  Allow me please to explain.

I’m not a connoisseur of art by any means but I’ve always been able to express myself – albeit clumsily  – through painting.   I’m not gonna bore you with details but let’s just say that it was once a great outlet for me back in the days where I felt I didn’t fit in anywhere.  But the last time I actually put brush to canvas was in University , and I’m not talking about my time oversees either, I’m talking domestic University so in other words – back when I was barely stepping into my 20’s.

So I was kinda shocked at my answer to his question as it triggered a memory in my mind that had been dormant for so very long … the location of my brush and paint set which was somewhere in a bag in my condo … one that I had left unopened from the recent move up into this cursed flat.

“Yes” I stuttered , searching for time as the cobwebs of that memory cell were dusted off , “yes I do in fact.”

painted feetTo him it must have looked like a cartoon from his childhood days as I was in my bedroom tossing unopened bags of crap onto my bed looking for the relic of time that was my painting set.

When I found it I had this ‘eureka’ moment , one of childhood joy that I accidentally let out with a bunny hop on my bed and a smile written wide across my face … until it instantly fled out the window as my eyes met his over at the doorway.

“I’m a mistress, I’m not allowed to have fun” was the god awful feeling that had replaced the one which had fled.

“It’s ok” he said as he caught on I was fighting a mighty battle to contain my emotions suddenly, “you can paint me if you like, I don’t mind.”

“on you” I replied.

“meaning?’ the question made him also roll his eyes seeking clarity.

“I want to paint on your body” and then after a moment of thinking where “your feet … do you think you can go an hour not moving your feet even if it tickles?”

“Now that’s kinky” he smiled.

And so it began … my most fun session ever.  Or perhaps … my only fun session ever.

 

 

I honestly can’t recall the last time I had a session with so much laughing as it was near impossible for him to resist curling his feet and messing up my first few brush strokes and I’d playfully slap him or flick paint on his Mickey Mouse shirt as punishment.

I ended up gagging him.  I made him hold cold ice cubes in his hands to distract him from the tickling.  I had him sing out loud.  All to no avail.

An hour later he and I were a mess of paint and it was pleasantly historical.

Then, well … if you’ve been lucky enough to see the first episode of this season’s Black Mirror called Fighting Vipers … there’s this scene where the video game fighters collapse to the ground and suddenly make out.  It won’t make sense to you if you haven’t seen it but the paint flicking escalated like that , like a kid’s food fight in a Spaghetti factory – except to say it had the romanticism of the clay making scene from the movie Ghost.

However, my intention here is not to explain in great detail just how erotic stroking a guy’s dick with wet gooey paint can be , I’ll let your imagination run wild on it’s own.

Rather, I want to let you know that I’m done with not having fun in my life.

I don’t want to cannibalise the premise for the first chapter of my book (ya that one, the one I’ve been working on for a year, shut up already) but I will steal this thought about what I have already written from my novel.

In my first ever session as a noob Mistress – in – training , I was this clueless girl who was just dumbfounded at how this first customer I had ever met had been left under my care in Jaa’s bedroom as she walked around cleaning the house in a huff of very apparent anger and resentment.  I had been working very briefly in the insurance business so I knew at least a little bit about things like customer care, being service minded , and so on.  But I couldn’t for the life of me wrap my head around how rudely she was treating this guy and how unfair it was to dump him in my hands for two whole hours.

I go into greater detail in that chapter of how that day played out.

 

 

But I’ll say this about her “I don’t give a fuck anymore” attitude …. I get it now.  I totally get it.  Luckily I’m not there yet but I’m on the road which has insanity listed as it’s end destination and things need to be done to alter course before it’s too late.

For instance, I haven’t written for fun in ages and ages.  For better or  worse, I made the decision two years ago to keep my blog “session related only” – after an ex boyfriend stalker violated the privacy of my life , something which he should be in prison for if it had occurred on his turf and not here.

Thing is , it’s not fun keeping all these thoughts of mine – some quite silly , some perhaps interesting , all quelled up inside of me.  Having to instead write sexy story after sexy story took the fun out of writing for you guys and it’s probably why my stories come bi weekly at best instead of how I used to write every day almost.

It’s a pain in the ass having to wade through normal tease & denial sessions for weeks on end until something worthy of putting pen to paper happens.  All these thoughts I have get lost in time and that is what I really enjoyed writing about.

Like yesterday, I had jotted down these notes on my phone about how I had this strange fantasy that I could use subliminal thoughts that I had read about in studying hypnosis … to make a guy on the skytrain suddenly jump off his chair and grovel at my feet licking them in front of everybody.  The seeds of that fantasy having been planted years ago when I met an actual hypnotist for dinner, an older guy named Mike.  I think I even wrote about that one time before didn’t I?

Writing about those kinds of silly things though led you guys to know more about me and the things that happened through my mind day in and day out , and it was infinitely more enjoyable than what I’ve been doing lately.

I want to go back to writing stuff like that.

One reason is , it makes for sessions that are more relaxed as you guys know a heck of a lot more about me , it’s like you’re coming to see a pen pal that you’ve been in talks with for years and years.  Those sessions I enjoy because I enjoy meeting people.

What I don’t like is people coming to see me because I’m their bdsm dream Mistress and they want to see how many of their fetishes they can cram into their 120 minute session.  All inspired by me and my sexy writing which has been aimed at their cock brain rather than their real brain.

So ya,  i need to make being  a mistress more fun for me.

I need to follow up on things I used to like doing , like painting.  As you saw on my Twitter I followed up on that foot painting session by signing up for a painter’s workshop course which , last Saturday, was the most fun I’ve had all year.  Some of you even liked my painting though I thought it was utter garbage.  But I loved the discourse we had going in emails and Twitter replies.

Thing is , I know that when I write a story that doesn’t keep a guy’s dick hard for 20 minutes that he’s likely to move on an not book a session.

To which I say , fuck it.

I’d rather have an infrequent one hour session with someone I really enjoy talking to than many many two hour sessions with people I can’t tolerate.

Again, just so you can perhaps walk a mile in my shoes … my last three guys who showed up at my door …

Guy #1 … had breath so smelly that it made me want to hold my vomit down for the entire two hours.  Next guy who shows up uncleanly is immediately getting sent home.   I’m done with guys who don’t have the wherewithal to maintain their hygiene – especially when visiting me in my condo.

Guy #2 … Said his name was Mark from the UK.  I went down , saw somebody who didn’t at all look like Mark from the UK waiting to see me and I promptly did a 180 turn back up to my condo.

Guy #3 … Specifically said in his email that he was interested in “Tease & Denial” but had a hidden agenda … a list of a hundred things he had planned for us to try out that night.  His session lasted 4 minutes.

 

 

On top of that , he wrote me today that he was “turned on” by being rejected by a mistress ….

 

npanda
Sun, Jun 9, 9:51 AM (21 hours ago)

to me

Hello,

That was quite a surreal session last night. I really enjoyed it.
Being rejected by a domina – I thought my fantasies were somewhat extreme (although in an aesthetically limited way), but I could always look a domina straight in the eyes. In retrospect, I felt embarrassed and intimidated to do so yesterday. Too bad we haven’t explored this, since that was exactly the feeling I was looking for. I got a nice sample of it, though. Thank you.
I’m not leaving untill 9pm. If you’d like to have a follow-up session again today, please let me know. Oh, and I would pay this time.

 

… you daft fuck.  You ignorant pathetic piece of shit of a human being.

This is what I mean.  This is what drove Jaa to retire.  Fucking retards like this.

Consider ok , he’s visiting me in my condo and I’m being considerate enough to entertain somebody that I’m hoping will be polite and cordial like a normal man would be when visiting an extremely hot girl for a first date.

Except my writing hasn’t inspired normal people to come and visit me like it used to when I wrote more personal stuff.  Instead I get fucking freaks of humanity like this loser who show up wanting to challenge me , and then go home and beat their cock endlessly fantasising about how a Mistress rejected him.  What a fucking insolent prick.

Whatever happened to Chivalry?

Code, honor, ethics.

 

So going forward let’s clarify these changes I’m putting into motion shall we?

If you show up and your breath smells, or there’s anything  about you for that matter that doesn’t sing the song of a man showing up at a girl’s apartment for a first date … don’t even bother showing up in the first place because I won’t give you the time of day.

Hear this as well , if you’re not from the country you say you’re from , you’re not getting past the condo lobby.

If you’re not submissive , fuck off.   Took a while to sink in, but I get it now why guys who “top from the bottom” or are “switches” piss other Mistresses off.  My personality is dominant, and I have zero tolerance for guys who know we’d clash but want to write me anyways because I interest them.

 

On my end , I’m going to be going the way Mistress Wael went and will introduce one hour beginner sessions for guys interested in Tease & Denial but are a little scared of the “way out there” bdsm fetish stories that are catalogued in my blog.  I miss the “sweet & innocent” type of guy who’s looking for something better in his life than the shitty thirty second happy ending he’s been getting at massage places around the city.

There’s two totally different kinds of sessions available for the guy who wants a much toned down and safe introduction to Female Domination , mine and Wael’s , and the differences between us need to be written about more because both of us have our own distinct ways of driving men crazy with orgasms they’ve never experienced before.

Wael is so unbelievably gifted with her hands , she has techniques that make guys scream in delight … whereas with me – what’s happening with your dick is more of an afterthought as I have an uncanny ability to get inside your mind and heart.

Both are great sessions  , both are entirely different than one another.

 

So not only am I going to be writing more often , like once per day , but I’m going to force Mistress Wael to be writing and making her find her style.  It’s been 5 years, she has enough English savvy to find a successful way to get her thoughts across she just needs me to be more demanding about meeting writing deadlines.  Which means the blog is definitely going to have two very different levels when  it comes to the usage of English going forward but though it may be a bit confusing I think over time people will fall in love with both writing styles even if hers is a bit more basic than mine.  What’s important is to be genuine, and she’s certainly that.

From time to time, I need to take time off from accepting any sessions.

Now for the better part of July and the first week of August that’s not going to be a problem as I have surgery coming up later this month that will put me out of action for a few weeks, and immediately following that I have my next European trip coming up next month.

 

During my time off I’m going to just sit and write some days.  I’d  love to finish the book I’m working on and I’d like it to be something I love writing for so I’m going to veer away from making it the sexy novel it has been until now.  There’s been some really weird and funny experiences working as a Mistress over the years and I want to get those thoughts onto paper.

In the end … I want to have fun again.

I’d like to be able to share my photos with you in my stories even if they’re just grungy me doing whatever types of photos … but that would have to be behind a member’s only blog – not as a money grab – but as a way to dissuade creepy people from fixating on me.  I’m not technically proficient enough to instantly know how to go about implementing such a section but i’m sure it’s possible.  Anyways it’s something I’ll be looking into getting set up by the fall perhaps.

 

I’m changing my forms over to Gravity forms from FormCrafts.  I have to get to get those made up and replace the old forms in each and every story with these new ones so that’ll be a chore and a half.

 

… and finally , I’m going to be putting up a page where you can order my books , videos and private blog membership.  Again, might have to pay somebody to do it as I only am good at writing , but there’s been enough questions about it from readers that it warrants attention.

 

My hope is , ultimately, that those of you guys who end up booking sessions with me are doing so more because you consider yourself a nice person and are genuinely interested in meeting “me.”  The onus of responsibility is thus upon me to let you know in my stories “who I am” and what this crazy girl is thinking day to day.

Because after all , “let’s meet up over coffee” or “can you teach me about Tease & Denial” is infinitely nicer to read than “hey can you bend me over a barrel and fuck my ass for 2 hours and THEN castrate my cock off?”

Two of those session requests will keep me working as a mistress for quite a while longer.

The other , if I continue to see it enough , will ensure one of my next trips to Europe is a one way ticket only.

 

xx

 

I'd like a Session with Mistress Jaa

My sessions are mostly soft, sensual and seductive.
  • Date Format: YYYY slash MM slash DD

 

 

 

 

 

I'd Like a Session with Mistress Wael

Intense Tease & Denial / BDSM Sessions
  • Date Format: YYYY slash MM slash DD