Mistress Wael | Elite Female Domination

Category: Domination

  • Mistress Manipulation | Subtle Techniques of Female Domination

    Mistress Manipulation | Subtle Techniques of Female Domination

    Dave just left my condo from our first date.  He thought it was a date, in reality it was just an experiment of mine.  Lately, these “mistress’s boyfriend for a day” sessions have been so amazing that I’ve started to wonder if the crazy suggestive techniques I use on my submissive harem of men would work equally well on a stranger who has no idea that I’m a Mistress – one talented in the art of Seduction.  So I thought it would be interesting for you guys to peek into my mind and relive with me what just went down over the past five hours on my “date.”  It’ll give you a glimpse I suppose at how my mind works, some of the techniques I use, and that will either amaze you or bore you to death.  Dunno which, but it’s worth a shot so here goes.

    First, i’m going to let you in on a little secret.

    Actually, no I’m not.   I can’t.  Though I really want to, doing so would undermine my business success.

    Because the truth of the matter is that it’s not a little secret at all, it’s a compilation of a great many secrets.

    No it’s not that I have a cock hanging between my legs, you can strike that from your filthy little minds right now.   Besides, having a dick between my legs couldn’t properly be classified as being a secret, rather a better word for something like that would be“catastrophic game changer”.  Or perhaps “fuck it I’m out of here.”

    So how does one go about writing about this little bit of information that I have which is compelling me to sit down and write but yet I can’t divulge what that golden nugget of information is?

    Well let’s start with what I can tell you.

    Luring you into becoming my submissive boyfriend apparently is quite dangerous.   Dangerous for you that is.   Like, criminally dangerous.

    What I can do with you in 2 hours is absolutely nothing compared to what I can do with you in 2 or 3 days.  in fact,  I’m finding that there is almost no limit to what I can make you do for me or feel for me given sufficient time.   The devilishness of the whole thing though, the reason that I’m sitting down to write this, is that it blows my mind right to this very second just how much you guys keep asking for more even though you know just how very dangerous your emotions are to being overheated.   you’re at the point where you’ve lost total control of your emotions of your behavior and of your own free will-  yet you love it.

    Like I had an idea this was possible for the last 5 or 6 years while I was limiting mostly my sessions to 2 hour intervals.   but it’s just lately now that I’ve started entertaining this idea of going further and exploring just how much the mistress boyfriend relationship can open doors to a new world and a new way of thinking or new possibilities that I never knew existed before.   honestly it’s gotten to the point now where two hour sessions , well … they feel limit capped you know what I mean?   If you know you can go to a horse race and you can easily select the winning ticket that will net you a million dollars why on Earth would you ever be happy with winning a hundred bucks?   That’s my problem right now, the thing that’s just running through my mind as I sit here giggly excited about what I just finished doing to the guy who walked out of my condo.   A guy I just met!

    This is exactly what the mistress who preceded me did.  After five years she started to venture away from two hour sessions and instead begin exploring the possibilities of a deeper commitment between her and the slave.   It led her to retire.  And why is that?  Well most women think that men are all alpha males.  But once you walk a mile in a mistress’s shoes you realize that’s just not true.

    The truth of the matter is that well over 80% of the male population hungers for a submissive relationship where they can secretly get down on their knees and devote themselves to a mistress who fully and unequivocally understands exactly what his innermost desires are.  I am indeed beyond a shadow of a doubt one of those woman who fully understands what a man is thinking and what a man desires.   so much so that it’s funny.

    Funny how?

     

     

    Well no, not funny like that.  But funny in that a few psychological techniques when used on a non alpha-male … of which there are many … can influence a guy to do a great many strange and wonderful things he never thought he’d do.

    Proof. You’re going to need at least an ounce of proof right?

     

    So here goes… let’s talk about Dave … Dave the slave, the guy who just walked out of my condo a few minutes ago.  He had an interesting first date with me, to say the least.

    No, there’s no strap on ass fucking description down below at the end of this story, so this isn’t going to a super pornographic snapshot of one of my sessions.  Sorry to disappoint.  You might however find out how I manipulate you to carry out acts of submission and subtle humiliation.  If that interests you, read on 🙂

    So let me recount our evening together, but keep in mind that I just met him face to face for the first time at 7pm this evening.  It was ten past midnight when I typed in the first word up above.  Five hours.

    Hmm, how to start?  I’ll tell you step by step what happened via dialogue and let you figure things out on your own-assuming you’re good at reading between the lines.

    mistress's mind peacock bdsm femdomDave is a peculiar experiment because he is the first person that I made do slave like things …  but one who did not come to my door by means of my website.   Experience has taught me that you guys are not only freaky smart but are also an investigative lot so I’m not going to tell you from where Dave and I met but let’s just all agree that it was by non-conventional means.  You see, these techniques I’ve been using make it all too easy to change the willpower of a man who shows up at my door after reading my blog.   I wanted instead to try these techniques on somebody with a clean slate of mind.   Basically I was looking for a guy who was really keen to take a super hot girl out on a date and see how far he could push his luck.   Before you think that Dave was the first lucky guy that I stumbled upon you should know that there was a selection process in place where I had to painstakingly whittle away at a group of prospective men until I got to a solid handful of the types of males I was looking for.  Dave ticked off all the check marks I was looking for so that’s how he got chosen.

    I took him to Above Eleven, my favorite hang out joint in the city, yards from my condo – the place is like my home turf and it adds to my confidence looking at each table in the place and remembering who I seduced at each location around the restaurant.  After some cagey dialogue … is that the right word for it – cagey? … We were discussing how Thai girls all have a “Sick Water Buffalo ” story to tell , but making fun of the topic like we had been doing via SMS beforehand … it was like a battle of wits , or who could be the most witty about the topic.  Fine, let him have his fun.  Peacocks think they’re witty and fierce as well … until the wolf attacks.

    “So” he said taking the enveloped bill from the waitress and throwing me a sexy “read between the lines” sort of smile, (here it comes I said to myself) “is your place nearby?  My hotel is just down the way…”

    “You’re not going to fuck me.  Do you know how I know that?”

    “I wasn’t intendi…”

    “Because, Dave, I would have invited you to check out my room about 1/2 hour ago if I wanted to use your cock.” and I said that to him with a stone cold matter-of-fact look across my face.

    Faced with a cannonball shot solidly through the stern of the ship, the male contemplates retreat.

    “Well you’re direct” he spits out sarcastically.

    “Did you?” (Notice the past tense of the question.)

    “Did I what?”

    “Did you want to fuck me? yes or no , and consider , knowing that I’m direct , that I’d respect a direct answer in return.”

    He looked fabergasted and snorted out a laugh, yes snorted , that sound that emits half from your mouth and half through your nose , and one that you instantly regret making because of how piggish it sounds.  “Well, that’s , really , uhm, I’ve never met a girl w….”

    “Yes or No” I said choosing to suck the whipped cream off my finger from the unfinished desert before us.

    “Look …”

    “Yes or No?”

     

     

    A hesitation.  A pause. The obvious answer is coming, he just needs a pause to let it seem like it’s not an immediate selfish answer.  “Yes” , another pause, “yes of course. You’re beyond hot (see photo above :P).  Who wouldn’t?  I would have.  Obvious right?  Does that make you laugh?  Do you want to laugh?  Are you just digging for a reaction?” (he’s right , I was digging for a reaction, and he gave it to me when he said “would have”)

    “Just answer the door for me.  You know you’ll do that right?” I said as I reached out to touch his knee firmly .. firm enough that he’d look down to see why I grabbed him.  It’s called a misdirection, you’ll understand later on, what I said is the more important thing to focus on.

    “Huh?” he stuttered with a blank face.

     

    “You do want a second date, yes?”

    “Yes” he laughed.  Blinking being the only movement on an otherwise confused and motionless face.

    “You’re absolutely sure, given how direct I am?” Another “yes” from his side of the table.

    “And you did think before you wanted to fuck me right?”

    “Yes” he smiled.  “I mean no.” he follwed up, checking himself with a smack on his own knee.  “Fuck you’re confusing me.”

    “Like I said, it’s not going to happen so don’t worry yourself about it.  Just pay the bill and leave the waiter 1 baht for a tip , make sure he sees the tip before you leave the table, I’ll be downstairs waiting.”  I winked at him in an ever so sexy way after I told him what to do, leaving him with a feeling of excitement even after giving him a somewhat humiliating task.

    Humiliation is such a powerful tool, but even more powerful is the ability to make somebody do something small for you like it’s nothing at all.  Ah see, I told you I wouldn’t divulge any of my tricks, but there’s another one.  Have you caught them all  yet, or are you just reading along blankly?  lol

    Guys ask me all the time to humiliate them in public.  Now in their mind, they have pictures of being ridden like a horse up and down the street covered in green paint with a firecracker dildo firing sparks out of their asshole.

    What it is really, talking about humiliation, is a gateway to submissiveness.

    I’m asking a man I hadn’t yet met two hours before to now leave a humiliatingly small tip of what would be in your currency one penny, or one pence.  Furthermore, I’ve instructed him to make sure the waiter sees the 1 penny tip, something that’s not altogether pleasant to do.  It just serves as a distraction really to divert his attention from the bigger submissive act of picking up the bill for me.  Which yes, might be something he had intended to do, but my addressing it as an order to him along with the tip suggestion ensures that by the time he’s joined me downstairs that he’s begun his unconscious dive into the rabbit hole of submission.

    And what about that – meeting him downstairs.  Above Eleven is a rooftop patio bar/restaurant and meeting me on the first floor is not an insignificant thing to have to do.  I’d say that out of the 500 or so couples that ate there that evening, we were the only couple to go down the lift seperately.

    First and foremost, I’m setting precident. I lead, he follows.

    aldous huxley bdsm femdom mind controlSecondly, I want to see if he questions it at all.  Let’s admit it, though it’s a small thing to make him do, it’s still quite rude would you agree?  We’re creatures of obedience though, subliminally going along with things people tell us to do.  The Milgram experiment is infinitely repeatable if one can assume a presence of authority.  Now consider that you guys willingly place the mistress on a pedestal, and that I’m using that power not to execute you with electricity but only to get you to do seemingly trivial things – what do you suppose the per cent of compliance is among you men?  Hmmm?  See why I wanted a guy who wasn’t aware I am a mistress?

    Sure enough, Dave walked out of the elevator to greet me in the foyer with nothing but a sheepish grin.  I grinned back. “Did the waiter say anything?” I laughed.  “No, but he wasn’t too impressed” he laughed back.

    Once I make somebody do a small inconsequential thing for me, it’s ever so easy to make them do something much larger for me later on.

    The walk from Above Eleven to my condo is barely a minute, and yet, though I’ve made that short simple walk with hundreds of guys the vast majority are short of breath by the time we hit the lobby of my condominium.  I’ve said it many times before in previous stories that I walk briskly and men struggle to keep up with my pace.  Well, struggle is a bit over the top , let’s say – men are very aware of the pace they need to maintain to keep up with me at all times when walking with me.

    I lead, you follow.

    Just this time it’s reinforced by something as simple as walking.

    These core months of the hot season leave visitors dripping in sweat trying to keep up with me, and granted it was late evening about 10pm when we reached my condo so it was only 35C , but for most of you guys that’s about a 70C swing in temperature and leaves you in a bit of a mess by the time you’re standing in my living room waiting for me to mercifully turn on the air conditioning.  I’m Thai, I don’t sweat.  It’s beyond fucking annoying when I have a foot worship guy who wants to smell and lick my “sweaty” feet and I have to basically run a marathon at noon to try and get a bead of sweat to run down my ankle so my feet will be smelly enough for him.  But for appearances, it’s a subtle form of humiliation to have guys entering my condo stand in a sweat stained shirt with arms tightly glued to their side so I don’t notice the pool of sweat growing from their armpits.

    Meanwhile I’m fresh as a peach standing before you – ordering you to the bathroom to clean yourself up in the shower.

    “You’re a mess, go grab a shower and don’t come out until you’re presentable” I said to Dave laughing at him as he ran off to the guest bathroom.

    The suavest of men frequently drop the line “I’m just gonna hop in the shower” as their ice breaker line – especially the male model types.  Much like Tom Cruise did in Top Gun , it’s a power move, and one that needs to be stolen from them.  There’s a difference between taking a shower … and being sent to the showers.

     

    https://youtu.be/Ug-KE5A7xyc

     

    Also, clothes give a man power.  I would argue that a woman in a business suit can’t compare power wise to a man in a suit – a suit connotes power.  What we wear in general connotes who we are, and men tend to come to see me very well dressed.  So removing them of their clothes is a simple tactic I use to strip them of a layer of their power.

    Think about this, how many naked girls have you had stand in your living room in your life?  10? 50?  Did I hear a couple of you playboys just yell out 100?

    Me? 2,000, ya about that.  Guys not girls … you wish I had 2000 naked girls stand in my living room … you’d all want to be roommates with me.

    Guess how many guys have walked out of my shower in nothing but a towel with raging hard dicks at full mast?  Zero.  Nada.  None.

    There are few if any social situations that have a man standing naked covered in only a towel before a fully dressed girl.  Even if a guy has been in that situation before a couple or more times, it doesn’t compare to the thousands of times I’ve commanded guys to stand in that position before me.  If not humiliating or emasculating, then it certainly is awkward.  Sometimes it’s all three.  Whatever the case, it’s another layer of power transference from the male to me.

    Now David, give him credit, chose the route the sort of states “hey do you want to see this impressive thing I have hiding under this towel?”   Not thinking that a cock to me is like a pussy to a gynecologist.  There’s the very rare dude like Dave who – and though I’ve never seen it with my own eyes, I’m sure it’s how they do it – they masturbate in the bathroom before coming out so their cock is aroused.  I know cuz they all turn the sink on for a prolonged period of time to hide the “fap fap fapping” sound as they pound their wet dick to attention.

    “If you want to show it off so much drop the towel.”

     

     

    See, pause for a sec … at this moment in 99% of all these situations the guy standing in a towel in my living room is there because he thinks it’s expected of him as this slave / mistress situation is being played out as previously agreed upon through countless emails.  Dave on the other hand chose to strut out of my bathroom without dressing himself back up in private, so there was a lot of assumption going on in his mind still with regards to getting laid.

    Never underestimate the male’s desire to fuck.  That’s one thing I’ve taught myself repeatedly.  Like I said, I had done some pretty crafty work beforehand making sure that the guy I chose for the date was secretly submissive, or at least was the type that could be coerced into submissiveness.  So it was kind of a curious thing to see a guy I saw as submissive choosing to walk out in my brown towel.

    “You want me to drop my towel, are you sure?” he said.

    “Well you purposely chose not to get dressed so that’s obviously your end game.”

    “I’ll get dressed then if you want.”

    “No.  Drop the towel” I said with a tone that sat somewhere between curiousness and a command.  And voila!  Dude dropped my towel like Dorothy pulling back the curtain to reveal the Wizard of Oz.

    The worst thing for a magician performing before a sold out audience is to make the big reveal for his ultimate trick “Taaaa Daaaaa” … and have people stare blankly and unimpressed.  Dave, just as the many before him, got quickly introduced to how narrow the chasm is when making the leap from cockiness to full vulnerability.  Nothing is more vulnerable than nakedness while in the presence of somebody fully clothed … and who has no intentions of removing any garments whatsoever.

    Have you seen the Black Mirror episode Hang the DJ?   I saw it on my Netflix, it’s one of my favorite episodes.  There’s a great quasi-bdsm scene in it where the girl emasculates the guy by ordering him to strip naked.  Too bad the premise of the show doesn’t allow them to explore the situation further, I for one could build an entire episode on the mind-fuckery that can go on with such a command :

     

     

    Herein lays my problem lately.  When presented with a situation where I could jump a cute guy and fuck his brains out … or fuck with his mind instead , I’ll always choose to exercise my imagination instead.  There was absolutely no difference between the scene which played out above and the scene which unfolded in my living room with Dave.  She chose to jump him, and if I chose to go down the road of writing about why that episode grips me so vividly, so starkly, I’d be writing for days on end to explain the labyrinth of thought processes going on in my head these days.  For those of you intrigued by how deeply this episode affects me I invite you to watch it and send me an email with your theories on why it does so.

    But for now, let’s just say that the “rules of the game” and my thorough understanding of those “rules” as they apply regionally here in Bangkok force me to exercise intelligence over desire.

    Dave, well I had him on my short list because he was fucking hot and my cruel imagination often toys with me by forcing me to play these games with men I so very much desire to taste.  So having a handsome boy naked in my living room does present a certain set of challenges to temptation.  Sad for me that I never give into those temptations, but it’s because I don’t that I have such a deep understanding of men.  Any of that make sense?  I’m trying not to be cryptic, it just takes forever to focus on one small thought line and get across what I’m trying to say, but there’s a lightning storm of synapses firing off , and I’d love it if just one of you understood the how and the why of all those thoughts.

    So yes, there was this fleeting synaptic thought that shot through my mind about how nice it would be to fuck this boy’s brains out and cum all over his thighs, but an instant later I snapped back into my purposeful self and on the flip side of a second I saw him as nothing more than a lab rat for my experiment.

    We had had nothing but drinks at Above Eleven, earlier that afternoon I had a vigorous workout at the gym, and before that I had fallen asleep after a night of answering emails so I couldn’t properly remember the last time I had eaten food.  Suddenly, while sitting before this naked guy, it was just as if my brains ran quite gently out of my head and left me with a vacuum, which made it impossible to concentrate on his pole of excitement and think of something worthy to say.  Right there and then I took a few moments to flip through my Food Panda app and ordered a crab dinner from just down the street.

    “You’re gonna sit there like that and watch me eat crab.”

    “You’re that hungry huh?” he said with a tone of disillusionment in his voice, perhaps he was registering how lost his hopes were of getting pussy that night.

    “Yup.  Oh and , you’re gonna answer the door like that to pay the delivery guy.” (where have you heard me say that before)

    “I am?”  he asked rhetorically.

    “I see it on the porno sites you guys watch all the time … girls answering the door naked to disturb the pizza delivery guy.  So instead, you’re gonna disturb whomever knocks on that door.”

    “You’re insane you know that?” he said while looking down behind him for my brown towel.

    “Don’t.  I like you naked.  You lost your hard on though, sad no?”

    “I think he’s just massively confused to be honest.”

    “You confused yourself.   I told you quite frankly at the restaurant you have zero chance of getting into my pussy.”

    “Can I get dressed now?”

    “If you’re going home, yes of course.  Otherwise, no.”

    In poker that’s calling someone’s bluff.  With a Mistress it’s called shit or get off the pot.  Go home if you wish, I’ve announced I’m totally disinterested in him and giving Dave the option to leave reinforces that.  But if he stays, he must do so naked, and that choice reinforces the submissive circumstance I’ve put him in.  Or that he’s put himself in, whatever.  I use this technique on guys wavering on whether or not to throw themselves into being submissive near the start of the session.  Dave will choose to stay just as most guys have done in the past, and he’ll remain naked because … remember … we are conditioned since birth to being told what to do.  I have a lot of respect for guys who have said “fuck this I’m outta here” when I’ve put them in similar spots, they have the wonderful ability to think for themselves at crucial moments, a skill set that is rare to find.

    Alright, so the delivery guy takes about 30 minutes to knock on my door, that’s a lot of time to fill in what is becoming an increasingly unusual situation for Dave.

     

     

    This is why I love testing myself with these social situations because it keeps me on my toes.  If this was a session and he was in my condo, well there’s this expectancy of what role to play out , and there’s an implicit shared thought that I’m going to lead by action.  Something that I have tried to experiment with in my two hour sessions – but with less than optimal results as this “value / time” relationship exists – mostly in my mind I think.  That’s why I’m really moving toward the mistress/boyfriend relationship experience which can be an afternoon or a couple of days, it frees me from the tick tick tick of the seconds rolling by.  The amount of mind-fuckery I can do on you is directly proportional to the amount of time we can spend together.

    Given the absence of my concern for time, I’m free to do whatever I choose and so with Dave – because he’s unaware I’m a Mistress, I wanted to introduce that uncomfortable silence that makes new couples feel on edge.

    I’m just adding layers to the lasagna, and the last thing he wants while sitting there naked in front of me fully clothed is to have nothing but the silence of the condo consume the situation.

    Meanwhile, I’m perfectly happy to fuck around with my phone and keep a surly scowl on my face supposedly due to the hunger situation.

    You can only run half way into a forest, at the mid way point you begin running out.  I could almost hear his brain thinking out loud as the inevitability of the delivery guys’ arrival approached.

    When I heard the “ding dong” of the doorbell I admit I laughed.  I shouldn’t have.  Would have been better if I told him to go do his duty straight faced.  But maybe that added a dash more humiliation to the whole thing with him knowing I found this amusing.  I guess there’s both ways to play it.  The funny thing is , and I totally wasn’t expecting it, was that I think the problems with paying a delivery boy naked were much less than the problems of sitting there naked without me talking to him.  To get up and grab his wallet was something he did almost out of relief.

    Which goes a long way in debunking the need for Mistress’s around the world to play dress up in their scary leather & latex uniforms.  Subtracting clothes goes a lot further psychologically than adding clothes.

    Anyways, he was gung ho to answer the door naked for me, I just had to say go after I finished laughing.  He’d been told twice already that it was something he was going to do.

    I got Dave a plate and set it before him on the coffee table and then instructed him to go wash his hands.  “You just jacked off in the bathroom, go clean your hands before touching your food.”

    Another order.  Another act of compliance.  They’re small but they add up, like turning the pages of a book and looking back somewhat later to see how much you’ve read.  What was not compliant though is that he came back from the bathroom fully dressed again.

    “Did I say you could get dressed?”

    “I wasn’t going to sit naked and watch you eat.”

    “That’s fine, you can leave now.”

    This time, a very long moment of silence passed.

    “I’m not sure I’m all that comfortable staying anyways … to be honest” then he went into a recount of how well he thought we were getting along and that he’s having a hard time reading if I’m joking or serious.  “I mean, I’ve never met a Thai girl quite like you, you’re not like any girl I’ve ever met.”  He shifted his feet side to side, took a moment to rub at his hair with his right hand.  “I like you, that’s the thing.”

    “I like you too” I said with a smile.  “Still, there’s the door, see yourself out” and I picked up a fork in the kitchen to dig into my fried crab rice.

    “So that’s it?”

    “That’s it.”

    And he left.  I think he said “bloody hell” once the door swung closed behind him.  Anti climactic huh?  Well like I said, this was a look into my thoughts, not a recount of the occasional miracle session I pull off.  It was important he left under my terms, most dates don’t end with the man being commanded to leave.  To his credit, it’s 5:30 am now and still no sms from him.  It’ll come in the morning though, I guarantee it.  It’ll say something like “blah blah blah … wonderful evening … blah blah blah … would love to see you again.”

    Do you want me to see him again?  Since it’s safe to say he’s not aware of this blog, we can fuck with him a bit.  Send me an email telling me if you enjoyed this little peep into my mind, and if you’d like me to see Dave again – give me a challenge.  Tell me something you want me to make him do , and I’ll see if I can pull it off … and hopefully with some proof to go along with it.

    I’m off to bed, good night all.

     

    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]

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Girlfriend Mistress Experience | Hell On Earth :P

    Girlfriend Mistress Experience | Hell On Earth 😛

    I  haven’t been hiding the fact  I’ve been pretty damn lonely since returning back from Europe in January,  to the point where I’ve found myself doing something I’ve never done as a mistress at  any point in the last five years which is inviting somebody to stay longer.

    It wasn’t something I even planned to do , I just spontaneously blurted out after a rather nice session “if you liked it so much, why not stay and let me show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

    I suppose I just wanted company,  the lonely side of my brain would justify such a request as being such.   But there’s been a growing devilish part of my personality that’s fully controlled by the devious side of my brain, one that seeks to seduce a man to such an extent that he would become nothing more than a willing pet for his mistress.  It’s the side of the job that Jaa warned me about , the one that consumed her and led her to the self prescribed seclusion she entombed herself with now.

    You see, here’s what happens when one starts down the road of becoming  a mistress.  At the beginning I was told that there were not only men out there that would lay down at my feet and do whatever I bid them to do ,  but that such men made up the majority of the population.  Then I’d wander into my first sessions quite aware that I was not just making eye contact but actually trying to look through the dude’s skull and into his psyche somehow because I was clueless as to how to extract this subservient personality from the guy.  I had acknowledged such a personality existed in each and every man I saw, but the one thing endearing to all submissive men is the ability to sense bullshit.

    They all knew I didn’t have the “it” factor.  Like remember the story line from The Matrix where Morpheus kept telling Neo to wake up and realize that he is “the one” and it wasn’t until the end of the movie where he became self aware of what he was and what he could do?  Well that’s kind of how it is when you jump into this mistress life , I had the qualities, background, personality to be a mistress but lack of experience was holding me back.

    It’s kind of cute that all you guys were booking sessions to try and help me become self aware back in the early days, each and every one of you stepping into the role of Morpheus so this cute and a little too sweet girl could soon activate full mistress mode instead of seeing it in drips and drops during your sessions.

    Between then and say – last year there’s all these sub levels I passed through , each as significant as the last but all building toward what for all intensive purposes is the top of the Mistress skyscraper – self actualization.  Not the penthouse , I’m talking the actual top of the skyscraper where controlling men has become such an afterthought that it’s hardly significant any longer , it just is.  While there are many variations of how to control a man they are very much one in the same and for the longest time it seemed like there was nowhere left to grow.

    You could measure the change in the number of “hot” stories I was writing about sessions over the years.  In the beginning I was banging out a story a day almost , and that became a story a week , and then a story a month.  Every day since the beginning I get an email saying something along the lines of “holy shit ____ , that was mind blowing, the best two hours of my life , wow, you are amazing” to which my mental reply has recently always been “ya for you it was mind blowing, for me … not so much.”

    I’ve been thinking for the longest time “where do I go with this from here?”

    Last year was all one massive life plan to move out of Bangkok and start over in Europe using my talents as a Mistress to settle in nicely over there – and then winter hit me kind of like this …

     

     

    So after all that preparation , after all those German classes , after all those squats and step climbing sessions with my trainer , all that work milking corruption to get two visas to a country I had no right getting a visa to … I found myself right back where I started.

    So I’ve been sitting in my condo since then thinking … “what was the point of that?  This is where I started.  I took the longest possible route to get right back to where I started in the first place” …

     

    https://youtu.be/d6wv7YhJsN0

     

    So  after a February that had  me  mostly depressed and more lonely than usual I began doing something I never really do – accepting post session invites to go hang out with the guy I just gave a crippling set of blue balls to.

    but I’m not seeing these guys because I want to date them I’m seeing these guys after my session because I want to know how long they can hang with me before I dry them absolutely crazy.   the answer that question and everybody ends up with “not long at all.”   because I’m just not someone who could have a boyfriend very easily.

    it’s something that just comes with the job.   it’s hard to explain.

    you’d have to be someone who controls the opposite sex 24 hours a day for the last decade to really try and understand how I perceive  men.

    And therein lies the problem.   I have such a bizarre lifestyle that at this point in time it’s the only lifestyle that makes me happy.

    When I go out with a guy I’m more or less trying to lose them.   To be frank –  I’ve ended up cutting about 99% of all guys who try to talk with me.   in reality only about 1% of the male population can make the cut when it comes to being able to hang out with me.

    but now here’s the thing that really excites me.

    when it comes to submissive men 99% of those 99% that I reject love trying to be the one percent that I keep does that make sense at all?

    and no matter how much I reject them they keep trying to come back and improve themselves Reinventing themselves or making them a better mirror for who I want to perceive them as being.

    and I get a good giggle at seen them trying to  crawl back up the stairs to the same level that I’m at only to be met with the foot of my boot that pushes them tumbling back down to the bottom once again,   because I know they’ll just pick themselves back up and begin the ascent once again,

    and the ones who don’t I just couldn’t give a f*** about anyways because for everyone that walks away a hundred more waiting in line.

     

     

    So Joe, a 26 year old blonde hair guy from London England asked for thep rivilege of seeing me in the middle of the afternoon last week and afterwards he asked me if he could tag along with me for the day.   I never see guys in the afternoon but my pedicure until 7 p.M. So I had to switch with the guy and see him earlier than intended.

    after the session I told him sure you can tag along with me but you’re not going to last more than an hour.

    why he asked

    because one thing will break first either my tolerance for you or your tolerance for me…  and if none of those break then probably your wallet will  cry ercy before the evening is through.

    since Joe I’ve been on five consecutive  dates with guys trying to woo their mistress and Joe is the only one to make it past dinner.

    the second guy brought me to a cheap Japanese restaurant in terminal 21,  I left him standing at the curb while I hopped into a cab a minute later.

    the third guy let me order whatever I want while he ordered down to save himself the cost of an expensive dinner.   he was cut immediately thereafter

    the fourth guy tried to order for me.   see ya

    the fifth guy tipped the equivalent of what would be $2 in the United States of America.   he was at home  alone  pumping his dick 20 minutes later wondering what the f*** happened.

    but Joe took me to an Argentinian Steakhouse.  an hour later and 10,000 Baht lighter  he was allowed to continue on the date.

    he bought himself another hour because he waited without fidgeting as I got my nails done at my pedicurist and was even nice enough to go to Starbucks to buy me an  iced cappuccino while I was being attended to.

    he footed the bill for my nails.   good boy he was learning quickly.

    we went to see the movie Black Panther at 9 p.M. And because he was smart enough to buy us VIP tickets in the very back row I made sure that he had no recollection of the movie whatsoever because I played with his dick for the entire 2 hours.    he wanted to go relieve himself of urine in the washroom but I denied him the opportunity to do so because I know it was not urine that he wanted to relieve himself of.  the poor boy was about to burst because I left him hanging in the session hours earlier and it ordered him since a week before to teach himself without cumming.   so the boy was going on seven or eight days without having had an orgasm.

    mistress girlfriend experience 2I couldn’t care less

    in fact had one of my hot model lovers been in town that day I would have brought him back to my bedroom, chained him to the wall and made him watch as I got my ass pounded by a hot supermodel boy  right in front of his very eyes.

    thenI would have sent the supermodel boy home and made this poor guy sleep in my bed upside down massaging my feet until I slept.

    besides it’s nice not having to worry about getting up to go pee in the middle of the night.   super convenient to have a mouth waiting right there to gobble up all my juice.

    and if he had the nerve to spill a dropin the morning I wouldn’t be able to walk for a couple of days  thereafter,

    but none of that went down instead we just went back to my condo and I let him give me a massage on my sofa.

    that’s whereI let him sleep right there on the sofa all night long while I retired to my bed.

    as you know I live on a vampire sleep schedule staying up all through the night and opting to sleep in the daytime.   annoying to have a boy sleepover in my condo I just find it robs me of my freedom to do what I want.   so what about 4 a.M. I walked into the kitchen in the nude to pour myself some orange juice and when I turned around I found him sitting up on the sofa with a rock hard dick staring at me.   I walked over to him and stood before him completely naked with just the Moonlight shining through my balcony window.

    I told him he had 60 seconds to pump his cock and cumright in front of me  and to let it drip on the floor.

    then I made him clean up his mess with his own feet and dropped his shoes right in front of them then kicked himout of my condo right there and then.

    I ended up watching Netflix until well past breakfast time   and when I went to bed I didn’t wake up until just a few minutes before 6 p.M. The next evening.

    I was in a scramble to get to my email because I knew I had a session coming that night for 7 p.M. And I hadn’t bothered to check to see if he had confirmed or not.

    it’s sitting there at the top of my emails was one from Joe and I couldn’t resist the urge to take a peek and see what his thoughts were of the previous day.   He  had written:

    “that was the most amazing 24 hours of my life.  at this point I would do absolutely anything to give up my current life just so I could be your boyfriend and experience that day in and day out.   is this something you would consider?”

    yes it is

    it’s very much something I would consider

    I told him so

    then I went and tried the same type of date with 5 other guys and they all failed miserably

    guys who need to check their Wallets on a minute to minute or hour to our basis can’t hang with me.

    most professional business man can’t handle the fact that I make what they earn as a monthly salary in less than a week.  that’s life isn’t it most people are hung up on money trying to solve their financial problems.   money isn’t something I’ve thought about for the past 5 years.

    I can buy whatever I want I never look at a price tag.

    but the point is I expect the guy to buy it for me.

    and if he doesn’t …  he’s gone

    in fact I have no qualms whatsoever about hog-tying a guy back in my condo and leaving him there unfed for the entire day while I take his credit card and cash on hand and  go for an all afternoon shopping spree.

    pretty  f***** up way of  thinking huh?

    you don’t even know the start of it

    do you want to know what my ultimate Fantasy is?

    in fact,   let’s not call it a fantasy.    let’s instead call it an inevitable reality that I’m heading towards.

    instead of one man I want a harem of men.

    all at my beck and call.

    all living Under One Roof

    all there to serve me.

    all competing for the honor of serving me best.    while living with the fear that I may discard them from my life at any given moment.

    I’m pretty sure this is where my life is heading towards,

    I just can’t have a normal relationship any longer.   I don’t see a relationship where the balance of power is 50/50 as something that is viable.

    relationships are a zero-sum game.   someone holds all the power and someone holds none of it.

    isn’t that what most relationships devolve  into anyways?

    they start off with this grandiose idea of equality.   but it all ends up in s***

    But like most things in life…  what the general public perceives as being the way to do things is horribly wrong.    instead the only truth is a truth of economics.   the law of supply and demand.   hot girls like me are in very high demand.   the supply of women who have a mistress personality is extremely small.

    the demand for men wanting a mistress girlfriend is ungodly High.

    so why would I settle for anything less.

    so here’s my proposition to you.

    there’s a chance each and everyone of you can see me as something more than a mistress in your life.  you’re welcome to try.

    so when you see on my form that there is a three hour and four hour session that “includes dinner” the truth is there’s a possibility for much more than that.    ask yourself,  is that REALLY what you want?

    do you really want to know what it’s like to have a mistress girlfriend

    do you really want to live day in and day out knowing that there’s an equal chance every morning to be loved and or humiliated that day?

    is a life of servitude something you really want?

    cuz it’s not like taking a wedding vow and saying you’re going to marry the person forever when really you know a couple years down the line You’ll both be sitting in a divorce lawyers office signing papers that lead to a mutual agreement of how to properly end the relationship.

    it’s a bit of a misnomer saying that a three-hour session with me is 10,000

    on a good day at very well could be

    on a bad day it could very well be over 20

    bad day for you that is not for me

    and if you’re someone who considers that bad then I really don’t have the time of day for you anyway…  and you’ll find  that out soon enough.

    I had a lover once who had to go to work well before I would wake up every morning.  I’d wake up in his Penthouse hours later after he had gone and every morning sitting on the kitchen counter was 10,000 Baht in cash left there for me to go shopping.   some days I would use it but most days I wouldn’t.   important thing was that he knew to leave it there.

    on the morning that I woke up…  it was a Saturday morning…  and saw nothing on the kitchen counter…  it was the last day I ever saw him.  he assumed that because I never spent the money that the gesture wasn’t appreciated.

    it’s not that it wasn’t appreciated…  it’s that it was  expected.    and the moment he failed to reach my expectations I was gone.

    is there… Possibly

    … possibly a man…  who can reach my expectations perpetually?

    because if he doesn’t show up soon…   I’m this close…  to starting my own Harem of men.   lol

    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]

     

     

     

  • Femdom Name Calling | Celebrating Kindness

    Femdom Name Calling | Celebrating Kindness

    Remember that a person’s name is, to that person, the sweetest and most important sound in any language. “The average person is more interested in their own name than in all the other names in the world put together.” People love their names so much that they will often donate large amounts of money just to have a building named after themselves. We can make people feel extremely valued and important by remembering their name. (How to Wind Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie)

    Oh, people love their names so much they’ll donate much more than money to hear it spoken.

    Here’s a little fact that I’ve learned from years of discussions with submissive guys over dinner :  most of them were subjected to name calling in school.  I met one guy who told me he never heard his name from the age of 10 to the age of 18.  At school they called him Spock due to his bowl like haircut , at hockey they called him Goon , and his dad called him Shithead.  Last week I had dinner with a gentleman who was called Retard at rugby for 10 years , even though he has the hands of a giant and the thickness of two men.

    Yet even with his gargantuan size he sat across the table from me at Above Eleven and used the napkin to wipe away a tear from his eye as he told me the story of his tormented life in school just because he was goofy looking and socially awkward because of it.

    An hour later he was doing pushups in my living room with me on his back and both my feet wrapped around his face and my big toe on either foot in the corner of his mouth like a tongue tie on a racehorse.   As much as he loved being used by me like that , and as much as he begged to be treated in an even more humiliating manner , I always called him by his name.  In fact, I call everybody by their name for the sound of it truly is the sweetest sound in the universe.

    name calling femdom bdsm jaa4u bangkokI just thought you’d find it interesting that every time I’m asked what my “taboo” is – the limit of what I won’t do ; my answer is simply that I usually won’t strip somebody of their name in a session.  I’ll spank them silly , hell I’ll even cane a guys ass and back until their is no white skin left.  I’ll piss for 2 straight minutes down a guys throat without a second thought even as he pounds my bathroom tiles with his wildly thrashing feet.  I’ll set a guys dick on fire with fiery heat producing massage oil as I stroke it and laugh for two hours , and I’ve even done tickle torture with tease where the guy passed out from hyperventilating – and when he regained consciousness I continued on until he passed out again thirty minutes later.

    There is no taboo in what I do , I’ve done it all.  But the sessions I’m most uncomfortable with is when he’s demanded to be stripped of his name.  I turned two such sessions down this past weekend after a mid-week affair that had me calling a guy cuntface in public at his request.

    I tried unsuccessfully trying to get to the core of why he wanted to be  addressed like that.  When he came out from the washroom at the restaurant we were at with the word ‘cuntface’ (with the N written in reverse) self written across his forehead with black magic marker – I had one of those exquisitely rare moments where I got up and walked away from the session.  That’s only the second time I’ve called off a session in 4 years.

    You are born submissive.

    That cannot be changed.  Just as an alpha-wolf IS an alpha-wolf, he doesn’t “become” the alpha it just naturally comes out in his personality.  The Omega wolf, the most submissive of the pack is similarly born with that trait as well.

    What defines you gentlemen as submissive’s , wanting so very much to submit to a woman , is your experiences growing up.  How you interpret and internalize those experiences defines which path you will take in your femdom journey.

    For example, one story recounted to me by a young kid – and by young I mean relative to me as I’m still quite young myself having not turned 30 yet – was again over dinner where he told me his earliest memories of wanting to be submissive came in his dreams when he was still 8 or 9 years old.

    buried femdom bdsm humiliation jaa4u bangkokOne day behind his school they were putting in tall lampposts from the recess area along the walkway to the teacher’s parking lot and it was one of the first times in his life he saw concrete in its liquid form as the workers poured the paste into a pit that was to house the base of the lamppost.  Sometime after seeing that he began having a recurring dream where the prettiest two girls in his class – Suzie and Mirrella – would order him into that pit and he’d be encased there while they did all sorts of things to him like wiping their feet on his face, spitting down into his mouth , and straddling over his head.

    His first actual real experience with femdom however didn’t occur until he was about 13 by his recollection.  While playing with two girls who lived across the street from him, one of them spat down at him from the balcony above him and by sheer accident he looked up as the spit hit him in the eye and ran down his face.  When he wiped it off he said he purposefully didn’t move hoping she would do it again , and when she in fact ordered him to open his mouth and look up he said that was the first time he remembered having such a hard boner that his dick began to convulse on its own inside his pants trying to ejaculate from the excitement.

    When her spit landed directly in the back of his throat he couldn’t stop gagging and his present day memory is hearing the two girls shrieking in laughter as he ran home coughing and suppressing a gag reaction.

    For weeks he avoided being seen by those two girls , and even though to him they were not at all pretty , that incident was the only thing he tossed off to that summer.  In fact get this , that memory is still so vividly strong that even now he jacks off to the memory of that day … giving you an idea of just how strong a femdom experience is as opposed to a normal sexual experience.

    Can you remember fucking your first girlfriend on any occasion in such detail as he explained that experience to me?  No you cannot.

    When he saw the girl who spit in his mouth at school that September she started calling him “spitboy” every time they crossed paths in the hallway.

    I asked him right then “what is your present recollection of Suzie and Mirella , do you remember then fondly?”

    “Yes very” he replied.  The connotation of being “tortured” by those two even though it was only in a dream was a good one and that’s because (in my opinion) it was a fantasy in which he wasn’t looked down upon by the girls.

    Whereas when I asked him to tell me the names of the two girls who spit on him , he can’t recollect as his mind has since blocked out their names.  Interesting eh?  He can remember the names of the two girls from 9 years old via a fictional event , yet his mind actively has blocked the names of the two girls who resorted to name calling after a quite real event.

    I couldn’t wait to get to the session that evening because I had a theory that needed proving and it did.  He would let me face sit him for an hour and his dick would be hard as a rock without me touching it.  Yet in the second hour when I cuddled up to him and told him to open his mouth so I could drop a ball of spit slowly onto his tongue … his dick went flacid and his head jerked back in retreat from my request.

    For the rest of the session , no matter how much I cupped his balls or played with his cock, he couldn’t regain a stiff hard on whatsoever.

    submissive femdom bdsm jaa4u bangkokThis is what I mean when I say that the experiences you have over your lifetime define your path of submissiveness.

    Just like you, this guy was born submissive.  Eight years old is young enough to not have an idea of sexuality , yet not so young to already know what path the eventual sexuality will take.  I have heard over a hundred stories that clearly show me why somebody likes spanking, or ballbusting , or an innocent tease.

    But the guys who are messed up the most in trying to interpret their submissive nature are the ones who were subjected to name calling.  One’s name is so very important.

    Like even for me, you probably don’t know this but I absolutely cannot stand being called Mistress Jaa.  I hate it.  I despise the name.  Because it’s not me.  But I have to keep that name since the original Jaa named the website after herself, a property which I’ve since inherited.   I tried using my real name at the start because that seemed the most honest way to introduce myself in my blog and got caught in a hell storm of libel and slanderous attacks thereafter.  When I tried to change the name it caused great confusion so I’ve recently just said fuck it and gone with Jaa – then quickly getting you to address me properly once we’re talking with email.

    Since I know personally how much it grates on my nerves being addressed as Jaa , and I know how many stories I’ve heard over dinner of you guys being called names in your younger years , I thus derive great pleasure from coming home from a long sweaty run, taking off my shoes and socks at the door and discarding them on your body – serving as my doormat as I address you by name and say while looking down at you ” ____ , you’re the best damn foot cleaner in the city , be a dear and clean my feet for an hour will you?”

    And you’ll do it.  Because people love their name so much , they’ll devote any part of their body to hear it.

    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]

     

     

  • Je Ne Sais Quois | Every Mistress Has It

    Je Ne Sais Quois | Every Mistress Has It

    That “je ne sais quois” , we both have it.  Mistress Wael is incredibly, absolutely, extremely, supremely, unbelievably different than the creature of femdom I have become.  In trying to explain just why exactly that is to a gentleman who partook of Wael’s style last night , I found myself calling her here from school just to discuss why she thinks I’m so hardcore.  This is the email that set off my deep train of thought:

     

    John James
    9:18 AM (1 hour ago)

    to me
    I went to see Wael last night, it was amazing! I had a great time. She told me that you are harder? do you do it harder? I go back to England in 5 weeks. I will try to book with you before then. I want to see you so bad, especially after you sent those pics.

     

    My immediate reply to him was as such:

     

    jaa4u.com | Goddess <[email protected]>
    10:30 AM (14 minutes ago)

    to John
    We’re different Wael and I.

    She says I’m harder only because she’s been involved in a few sessions where the guy wanted extreme domination and I complied , and once she witnessed that side of me it did two things for her. Most importantly, it showed her that one can be completely normal even if once in a while a certain side needs to be unleashed , kind of like Batman.

    I think that helped her accomplish sessions like yours must have been last night , because now she knows she can wake up today and be the same sweet girl.

    The other thing being with me taught her is that we , acting as a mistress , must scale our personality to the personality of the man we are seeing. Some like seduction , some like to be kept confused and thus on edge , and some need a good bloody fight to secede and relinquish power.

    She is still holding on to her love of Thai traditions , Thai religious practices .. hell , she’s going on an all day pilgrimage tomorrow to climb a mountain in Chantaburi just to pray and seek the wisdom of a fortune teller. So she’s more tormented than I am by doing what she did with you last night. I heard you had a wild ass exploration experience 😛

    Her view of me being harder also comes from her view of my choice to shed myself of anything and everything that has to do with being Thai. I think she interprets my hatred for this place as me being hard. That’s not true though. I’ve been hardened from the life I’ve had.

    So to answer your question, do I do it harder? I can. I can do it lighter as well. I can do it as sexy as you can take it , or as bad ass as you can endure. Depends what I read into you.

    xx

     

    german language femdom bdsm bangkok jaa4uI’m on a lunch break here at my German language class so I don’t have time to fully go into things.

    But I do have some stuff I’ve written down in drafts of posts yet unpublished that are like thoughts I have at 3am on some nights that cause me to wake up and download to writing just what’s bothering my mistress mind.

    One of those scribblings relates well to what his email was asking:

     

    “They laugh at me because I’m different; I laugh at them because they’re all the same.”

    What men don’t get is that the shit they try on other women absolutely and unequivocally doesn’t work on girls like me.

    I can be talking about domestic violence just as equally as I can be talking about a dude flirting with a girl at a bar.

    In tonight’s session this guy asked me if meeting a mistress accidentally in a real life setting can be as unsettling as this movie scene:

     

    https://youtu.be/vBZJXEqBfbY

     

    Yes, absolutely.

    For example, let’s say that’s me in the clip that he’s coming on to.  He’s basing my possible reactions to all his verbiage based on the sum of his previous interactions with girls in his life, correct?  So by that measure, there is no possible way he can gauge my reactions because I’ve kicked over one hundred guys in the balls , what other woman has done that?

    I’ve seen men beg , cry even , being tied to my bed and at my mercy as I hold their swollen cock in my hand for the forth hour in a row.  I’m not talking the average Joe on the street either, I’m talking big 6’4″ dudes that tower above me and have scary ass neck tattoos.

    I’ve fed men , kicking and screaming underneath my ass , right from the source to their throat and then stood above them watching them eat it without complaint – for doing so would permanently end any further contact with me.

    Last week I fed a man to twelve ladyboys right here in this room and watched while sipping tea as they gang raped him for two straight hours.  I watched that the way an alpha wolf would watch over his pack devouring a slaughtered deer, without emotion as it was just part of the life cycle we’re all involved in.

    Around this time last year I broke a personal milestone by sticking 100 needles through a guys cock and balls – after – I had stuffed the biggest catheter tube down the hole of his cock.  Then I subjected him to an hour of tickle torture which made him bounce his pin filled balls all over my marble floor.  Took an hour to mop up the blood thereafter.

    Do you think that there is anything the guy in the video can say to a girl like me to phase me , rock my world , or make my heart flutter?  I quarrel with such men the way a boot quarrels with an ant.

     

    je ne sais quois mistress gets male model to beg

     

     

    At the fashion show last night (sorry for the Gomer Pyle cover up) , every male model took time at the party to seek me out.  There were countless girls there , some taller than me, some bigger breasted than I , some rocking a million baht or more of name brand clothes and accessories, yet none of them had that “je ne sais quois” which allured all the men to me.  That “je ne sais quois” comes from not just meeting over 10,000 men the past five years, but making each and every one of them beg for my favor.

    “You’re so Un-Thai-Like” said the Italian model to me over a beer.

    “That’s because I’m not Thai” i said back to him.

    “But you are born from here, you live here, surely you are Thai.

    “Surely , I’m not.  Contemplate that , it’ll take you an evening of thought to get to the bottom of what that means exactly.”

     

    no one femdom bdsm jaa4u bangkok mistressI know, it’s hard to be philosophical with a beer in the hand and three super hot guys all posing for selfies with me , but that reply is truly deep.  The comment went right over his head, I hope it doesn’t go over yours though.  I would have said the same thing had I been born in Holland or France or Canada or New Zealand.  Does that help?

    “Je ne sais quois” at its heart means “i cannot relate to the feeling that’s being inspired inside me because I cannot quite put a finger on it for some reason.”

    To elicit that type of reaction in men – DAILY – it thus means that I have life experiences so very far removed from anyone else that they just cannot categorize me.  While that may be exciting for a guy , for me it means isolation.

    “Je ne sais quois” means to be different.  So different that I become a word on the tip of your tongue , but you can never remember.

    I have life experiences that you just can’t relate to.  “Here’s us$3,000 , go live in Russia for a year.  There’s no coming home early , and there’s no possibility of asking for further assistance from family or friends.”  Could you do it?  I did. (well not Russia, but ..)

    What if you had to live under a bridge wile in Russia for a couple of weeks, shivering in the cold with nothing to eat.  Would you find a way to survive?  I did.

    Am I being melodramatic?  Nah, i’m just stating facts.  What’s cool about that though, is I’ve noticed people are repelled like a magnet from anything that does not fit in with what is in their definition of normal.  If you have the stomach for it, watch the reaction of the people who witness this car disintegrate , and then just continue to cross the road.   Or in the same video , this taxi driver who crushes a girl on the road and yet , cannot or will not face the reality of what just happened.

    Interestingly, both those pedestians and the taxi driver were gifted a bit of “je ne sais quois” after experiencing those situations.  A tiny bit, but a bit nonetheless.

    Bear with me, i’m gonna try to explain this next bit as best I can even though it’s 4am and i’m still a bit drunk.

    mistress jaa4u femdom bangkok bdsmWhile people are gaining these bits of “je ne sais quois” , they’re wholly reproachable.  My first bdsm sessions that I did on my own after Jaa retired were not that great.  There’s a hidden sense – like an odor – that each guy was picking up on , that revealed I didn’t have the life experience needed to move the needle on how they wanted to feel in session with me.

    Ya I kicked their balls.  Yes I teased them.  Yes I seduced them.  Each time picking up a fragment of the “je ne sais quois” , like filling a bottle of milk a drop at a time.  But they weren’t great sessions, I admit that.

    To extrapolate away from mistress life … I did live under a bridge in a foreign country – while attending college.  In those first three months there , I was as repulsive as a skunk.  I couldn’t get a friend for the life of me ,  I sat by myself in class , and yet I was picking up these drops of “je ne sais quois” by surviving.  By finding a job , by working all evening , by finding a 4 foot by 8 foot “room” to live in , by buying food, then clothes, then a tutor,  then a nicer place to live – the bottle filled and as it did I stopped repelling people.

    Here’s the cool thing though.  By the end of that college year ,  I was the most popular girl in all my classes.

    My theory on why that was :  because I had acquired so much “je ne sais quois” from my totally abnormal experience there that I suddenly became “that girl who has something elusive about her” and I had groups of guys begging to help me with my English every night.  One guy , Roger, would bring me steak dinner from the restaurant he worked in at 11 pm , and he’d do so every night.  Eight months earlier, none of them would give me the time of day.

    Similarly , getting back to my mistress life , around two years ago I just knew I could command men.  Took about a hundred sessions to get to that point ,  but once I reached it – my “je ne sais quois” went through the roof.  It helped that somehow around three years ago I got really hot after coming back from oversees , but honestly it’s more than that.

    It’s the sum of everything in my life … starting when I shed myself of being the typical Thai girl and rebelling back in school and drawing the ire of every teacher I ever had.  I have acquired a shit ton of “je ne sais quois” , like 500 more gallons than anyone that I’ve seen has.

     

     

    buddah footprint I think I passed out after writing that final sentence if I remember correctly , it was like a year ago that I wrote it.  My “je ne sais quois” value has a few hundred more bottles accumulated since then.  Makes guys absolutely melt when they see me.

    Tongue in cheek thought of the day before I go write this German test :

    Wael’s going on what basically amounts to a pilgrimage tomorrow to ask a broke as fuck fortune teller “seeped” in orange garbs with the wisdom a thousand gold painted elephant statues has imparted on him… to ask said guru to send her a boyfriend (for a few hundred baht payment)

    That’s gotta be worth 3 or 4 drops of “je ne sais quois” life experience liquid for her don’t ya think?  lol

    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]

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Lesbian Femdom | My Hot Session

    Lesbian Femdom | My Hot Session

    Eat your heart out men !!

    I received the ONE letter that EVERY man in the world dreams of magically appearing in their inbox.   Cool your jets, I’ll show it to you, but I warn you that upon reading it you’ll all yell out at your computer in unison “why oh why can I not find a girl like that, why!”  In fact, the existence of such a woman is a fallacy , a myth, a bar story that friends say they heard about from a friend of a friend.

    But she exists, and more than that , I spent two hot, sexy, passionate, lustful hours in my bedroom teaching her the very limits of pleasure.

    So without further adieu , here gents is your dream woman :

     

    girlsession

     

    I gotta admit, every time I read and reread her email I got a little wet between my legs.  So after I went and changed into a drier pair of panties I thought to myself , “Self, if this kind of email can get me wet , I wonder what kind of effect it would have on a man?  So I copied the text and sent it to one of my submissive’s , one that though he loves serving me , would be very into being the guy I’d force her to suck and watch as I played with her.

    After his first reply was “no way, can I come watch?” I figured I’d make his cock drip by describing what I was going to do to her in the session.

     

    [one_half]tease sms femdom[/one_half] [one_half_last]teaseing by sms femdom jaa4u [/one_half_last]

     

    Now, I’d really like to tell you how much her legs were quivering while I was teasing her in that second hour.

    Heck, to recount how hard her nipple was that night as my fingers warmed up her nipple just after I had dripped ice down her cleavage for the umpteenth time, well to recount that wouldn’t be fair to you as you weren’t there.

    lesbian femdom bdsm jaa4uI understand that you’d like to know exactly how I tied her legs apart so she couldn’t close them , and took the better part of half an hour working these succulent lips of mine up from her knees , making sure to kiss every part of her soaking wet thighs many times over before placing them gently over her twitching clit.

    But that would be unbecoming of a woman to divulge such heavenly secrets to you boys with your dicks in your hand.

    Just as it would have been unbecoming of me to slap her around and spank her mercilessly.  We, being of the same gender , well I just felt I should have a mutual respect for that which we have in common.

    Thus we are at an impasse.  It’s not fair to tease you boys like this.  I wish you were there that night to watch, but you weren’t.

    So I’ll leave it up to your imagination as to how hot that night was, but under no circumstances are you allowed to cum thinking about it.

    xx

     

     

     

  • Not Perfectly Thai | Perfect None-the-Less

    Not Perfectly Thai | Perfect None-the-Less

    I could tell instantly from the look of horror written across my masseuses eyes that the first thing she had seen on me as I turned over to lay on my back was the massive black and blue morass that infested both my shins.  It concerned her so much that she delicately avoided the area entirely as her massage progressed from my feet up towards my thighs.  At last she couldn’t take it any longer I guess and she meekly whispered so as to be barely audible by anyone else but us :

    “You shouldn’t let him hit you like that.  Take it from me , I would leave him tonight, right now.”  To which my immediate response was simply, “who?”

    “Him, the man who did this to you” at first directing her gaze at my battered legs, and then touching the other black and blue parts on my body, my elbows, the instep of my foot, my shoulder , to name a few.

    bruised-leg“Let’s be clear” I retorted , “It is me who hits men , and this bruising is from me kicking the stuffing out of my trainers Muay Thai pads every day.”

    “Do you fight?” she asked.

    “No, men pay me to hit them” I smiled back as I said that.

    “Mai dee” she shook her head disapprovingly as she spoke, it’s meaning being “not good at all” in English.  After that there was once again silence in our little massage room as there had been for the first hour of my massage, but now the air stood heavy with an uncomfortable silence.  On or about the 10th “mai dee” from her mouth which was always followed by a “tsk tsk tsk” sound, I sort of half sat up and said to her, in Thai , “when we started an hour ago you said I was the perfect girl with the most perfect body and now …?”

    “You not proper Thai lady, I see now.” she said.  Which as I laid back to – not really enjoy the last half of my massage – I contemplated :

    If I didn’t live in such a self-manifesting condescending society , would I still truly be “the perfect woman?”

    Well, from a man’s perspective, what qualities need to be present to constitute the perfect woman?   See that’s a tough question because to a man there are two types of women, the type you marry and the type you fuck.  Perfection therefore, lays somewhere between, because a girl will therefore be considered desirable by all men.  This week, in conversations with both my real life male friends and submissive’s alike , I asked for one word answers of what makes a woman perfect per se and the top 3 words from a survey of about 50 men were :

    Naughty , Intelligent , Wild

    That’s interesting isn’t it?  I wish the sample size was larger as those words seem to portray an elusive girl that a man cannot fully control or comprehend.  That’s me.  It also happens to be the anti-thesis of how we’re taught to be in school.   To be certain, I was as close to being an anti-Christ figure as one could be back in my school days.  When we were being repeatedly drilled with the “12 Core Values of Being Thai” I checked and double checked, but didn’t see “burning all of my parents clothes” or “throwing sis’s bike in the river” as being included.  I didn’t improve much as I grew older either – i had hoofed my first set of ‘nards by the time I was 15 , spat down a boy’s throat at 16 , hit my last teacher at 17 and broke a guy’s nose at 18 … and last night as well but we’ll get to that a bit later on.

    This week, as measured from last Monday to yesterday (Tuesday) had three separate occasions where I was verbally called “perfect” by three different people, and in every single instance it was almost simultaneously pointed out to me that my behavior was not “perfectly Thai” which delighted me to no end as I strive constantly to be as anti-thai as possible.

    The instance of being Naughty occurred right down stairs here in my condo’s gym.  Every afternoon, or errr … now it’s gonna be every other afternoon to give my legs time to recover … I’m down in the gym with my trainer banging out two hours of Muay Thai, but that’s not the end of my workout.  I always hang around after he leaves to do an extra thirty minutes of weights and it’s about that time that another resident has taken it upon himself to ‘coincidentally’ be working out just as my Muay Thai wraps up.

    worlds-ugliest-birdNow he’s 50’ish , but the type of fifty that works out in the gym like he’s still 22 and struts instead of walks, you know?  I equate it to how a peacock fans his feathers , except , he looks more like a Marabou Stork than a Peacock.  So, he sets his incline sit up bench 45 degrees steeper than mine and while holding a weight to his chest he tries to disguise the fact he’s giving himself a hernia by deciding that’s the best time to break the ice with me:

    “What’s a tiny hot girl like you doing Muay Thai for?”

    “I want to learn to fight” I say.

    “Sexy girl like you should be a lover not a fighter?”

    To which I figure, why not – let’s give this guy an instant erection and I ask him frankly “why, you want to be my lover?  I fired my last one.”

    When I said that he stopped mid sit up and I was sure the 20lb weight was going to make him prolapse his ass right there as we spoke because he was just frozen in that position searching for an adequate reply.

    “You’re naughty.’ he says.

    “I am” I said hitting the ball back to his court immediately.  Your serve.

    He then did that thing with his hand that men do where they rub their mustache stubble with their index finger, a subconscious replacement for the word “hmm”.  He glances over his shoulder disapprovingly at the only other person in the gym room with us, a portly fifty-something year old walking her way to Timbuktu on the treadmill at a pace that would get her there sometime in the next millennium.

    “You know” he begins, and he’s lowered the tone of his voice down to the octave sound range reserved for sexy talk, “I have some time…”

    “Daddy Daddy , mommy wants to see you now” shouts out his ever so cute six-ish year old daughter as she bursts into the room and looks somewhat taken aback by the proximity of daddy to a much younger hot sweaty chick.

    x2-magneto-escapeThe poor guy, he looked like he had his soul, his liver, and his heart all ripped out of him at the same time.  His daughter’s words were more life destroying than Magneto sucking iron from a prison guards body.

    “Good-bye daddy daddy, mommy’s waiting” I said with a bite of my lip.

    “Fuck you’re perfect, did you know that?’ was his final comment to me as he spun around, changed persona, and picked up his daughter all in the same second, glancing back one last time though as he disappeared for the elevator.  I have no doubt that at some point that night he squeezed one out dreaming of what might have been … you know … had he not gotten married and torpedoed his shot at ever being spontaneous again.

    Then as I’m toweling off and leaving the gym Orca chick on the treadmill throws a casual “mai dee” (not good) my way and get this, she lifts her chin up and continues walking all the while sort of gazing up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.  lmao.  Being only the first of three times someone would throw a similar comment at me within 48 hours it didn’t even occur to me to say something back to her, I instead just ignored her and went back to my condo to shower.

    Intelligence.  I think it’s the quality that makes men the most turned on by a woman.  Case in point:

    Hxxx <[email protected]>
    7/16/15

    to me
    So, I saw your picture on the website and I thought wow, looks good. But often website and reality are not the same. Haha

    Then I met you and I was pleasantly surprised and felt something so I’m intrigued. I have to come back and see you… So I came back and I feel just as good with you and by the time I left I like you even more. Your fun and smart and sexy!! Perfect combination.

    But the moment that really wanted to just jump you and I know I fell for you in an uncontrollable way was when we were doing the room escape. There was one moment when I was putting the transparencies over the picture or mirror or something and started reading what I thought it said. You just started writing it on the white board and then found the missing letters and got the code like instantly. I wanted to just go over to you and kiss you right then! I’m addicted!!

    jump-you

     

    Though I’ve been asked out by thousands, I’ve only fucked three guys in three years.  What do you suppose the common denominator was to the difference in approach of all three?  Pretty girls get told they’re pretty so often it has no effect , yet “you’re stunning” “you’re beautiful” and “you’re gorgeous” are the three most commonly used ice-breaking lines guys use when approaching me.

    not-very-friendlyTo save both my time and theirs my immediate retort is always the same “you just lost your chance” – which laughingly instantaneously changes their demeanor and I get hit with “wow you’re not friendly at all” as their next line.  It’s exponentially more annoying when men try the same approach via text messaging.  Sending me a photo of your hairy chest and semi-fat stomach isn’t going to get my pussy juices leaking down my leg – but all guys think they are hot in some way, it’s like a self induced mass hypnosis thing going on.

    The few who appeal to my intelligence , they find the map to the golden monkey.

    Rewind to last weekend where I’m out with Mistress Wael , one of her Jiu Jitsu girlfriends – a very classy middle society girl who studied for her Masters degree in London (my dream), and we’re put at a table with an obviously ‘wealthy by familial association’ hi-so chick and her tag-a-long friend of equal intellectual fluff.  The final chair was eventually taken by a strikingly handsome American man who was literally attacked in conversation by those two hi-so girls who were completely smitten that he could converse with them in Thai.  Which meant to me that he’s a resident – and removes any and all interest on my part – which possibly he picked up on as a quarter of an hour later I hadn’t once engaged him in any conversation whatsoever so he leaned over and initiated with me.

    Shockingly, he was from Boston and having been down that road before I asked him if he was a Red Sox fan and asked him to say “I parked the car in Harvard Yard.”  That led to conversations about the Bruins, the Freedom Trail, the Boston Tea Party , and yada – yada – yada thirty minutes later he’s begging me for my phone number for the third time and I’m stonewalling him each time.

    “I’m gonna go buy you a drink” he says and excuses himself to go do just that.  Ok fine, I begin to talk to Wael as I feel bad she was sort of left alone there when the hi-so chick barks over to me in Thai “why do feel the need to speak so much English, you’re Thai, be Thai.”

    I’ve been to ten countries now in the world, I can tell you without a doubt that if I had a million conversations in each of the places I’ve been not one person would take it upon themselves to be so brainwashed as to think that speaking any language but their own is some sort of faux pas.  For instance, you would never ever catch a Canadian leaning over at a restaurant in Vancouver to tell a Vietnamese couple to kindly speak English because they are presently in Canada.  I get the sense that might well happen in France though – as French people and I clash like you wouldn’t believe.  If there’s two people who deserve each other it’s French and Thai’s.

    Mr.Boston the 2nd (inside joke) comes back with three champagne glasses , one for Wael, himself and I – and none for the other two lmao – and he says “what shall we toast to.”

    “The green monster” i say back.

    “Fine, to the Green Monster” and we clink our glasses and say “Cheers”

    I look over at the two excluded from the clinking and say “We say Cheers in English, it means Fuck you”

    That did it.  Squawk, squawk, squawk – she bursts out in gutter level profane Thai , and the dude is astonished thinking “what the fuck just happened”

    I told him “if there actually was a Yellow Brick Road , she’d crawl and kiss it” , then I took a last sip of the champagne … cuz why let good stuff like that go to waste haha … and asked Wael if she’d be fine to leave, and apologized to her friend as we had attended on her behalf.  I tell you, with other Thai’s we’re like water and oil, I don’t mix at all with them.

    “Wait” he says, placing his hand gently on my shoulder.  “You’re the most perfect girl I’ve met here and I’ve been here a long time, cant’ I see you?”

    “Nope”

    “Why not”

    “Because … you’ve been here for a very long time.  That’s why.”

    “Geez you’re not very friendly” he says standing up very straight , lol, i guess the fall from perfection is a swift one huh?

    I think being told a second time that I wasn’t very Thai was creating a built up anger somewhere in my sub-conscious, simply because it’s so mind boggling to me in some sort of way, even though I live here and I’m from here … that I’m the girl being screamed at in the final scene of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

     

     

    So keep in mind that I was heedlessly fostering this resentment to those two chicks, and include if you will that for the past few months I’ve been punching pads for 2 hours every afternoon.  Because as one of you has found online, there’s a nasty picture of me today in a Thai gossip website which captures a glimpse of what happened last night at a new club’s grand opening private galla event.   I’m not defending myself , I’m just saying “hey … here’s the backstory of why that may of happened, and chill out because to me it was fucking funny.”

    My very best friend, gay guy that I’ve known for years got an invite to this hi-so club’s private party .. to which if you’ve ever been to one, it’s by invite only, and those who get invited are the hottest looking Thai chicks, even hotter looking foreigner male models , media, and well-to-do Thai’s who want to rub elbows with one another and be seen at such an event.

    salma-and-meI got in in my head that since there were going to be so many gorgeous looking people there that I would be the one to turn all their heads and I raped my closet looking for the sexiest combo I could find , thinking that I’d go as a modern day Cleopatra of sorts.  Well, it ended up that I looked a hell of a lot more like Salma Hayak from her role in the movie From Dusk ‘Til Dawn , so much so that I was considering somehow incorporating a Python into my selection of attire.

    Last night, or well, two nights ago as I’m continuing this story here on Wednesday, was the hottest I’ve ever looked I think.  It was definitely the boldest I’ve ever been.  We, as Thai’s are a finicky bunch – it’s great to be hot and sexy until – it’s not ok to be hot and sexy , know what I mean?  There’s this “oh no she didn’t” standard here that doesn’t exist in say , Los Angeles California or South Beach, Miami where hot is hot without limits.

    Now you don’t wear something this skimpy and show up for the ribbon cutting ceremony so we showed up just after 11pm when the drinking and dancing was getting underway , and right away I caused 30 or 40 whiplash casualties walking in from the taxi.

    Just as much as they were drooling, so was I , there were hot dudes a plenty at the place – and guess who they were all eyeballing?  I was ready to own men’s minds that evening, all I needed was for the music to start going, get a few drinks in me and I would have owned the dance floor.hercules

    Would have.

    For whatever reason , and it started a while ago but has pleasingly gotten out of control , I have been inundated with friend requests on my Facebook from male models.  All it took was one session with a hot hot submissive model who added me on his Facebook – and then a few tags later and voila – my Facebook for me is like a Playgirl magazine of deliciousness.  One these model dudes , the guy in the photo here to be exact , added me just over a month ago , and like the rest of them – I have no idea who they are in real life.

    Except, this guy not only exists , but he was in attendance at that same party and wouldn’t you know it, he actually recognized me as his Facebook friend.  Him and his girl friend , also a model and working the event with him approach me where I’m sitting with my gay friend who began squeezing the life blood out of my hand as the two came and sat down at our table.  To me it was like , well .. I guess it’s like seeing Hercules in a movie and then suddenly , poof ..,. Hercules is sitting at your table and all you can think of saying is .. “hey, you’re Hercules , you’re that guy.”  Then my mind goes blank and silently I”m blabbering “hercules, hercules, hercules” like the grandmother in The Nutty Professor ..

     

     

    His girlfriend slips away to do something else and he sits there with his face cupped his palms , elbows on the table , looking at me like he’s completely smitten with me.  My gay friend is sitting with the same look in the same smitten posture, all the while kicking the shit out of my already badly bruised shins below the table.  But this dude is the loyal type , he’s not hitting on me, he’s not flirting with me, he is just simply sitting down and genuinely wanting to get to know someone he is “friends” with but is meeting for the first time.

    All the while, I am even more genuinely wanting to get onto the dance floor with all the super hot guys who are now shyly glancing up at me one by one as our table is adjacent to where they’re all dancing and if they reached up they could touch my ankle , i’m that close to them.

    Then it hits me why all the shy looks from below.  This guy is cock blocking me.  Or pussy blocking , or whatever you want to call the act of prohibiting all the hot young models from dancing with Salma Hayak , who desperately wants to get her ‘snake-on’ and start rubbing asses down there.

    When this dude added me as his friend and I first checked him out I was like “oh god, fuck me sideways, how do I go about knowing this guy” and now that he was here in front of me I couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.

    Right at the pinnacle of my frustration , an old woman who was 80 kilos of walking oatmeal comes right up to me and stops just long enough to whisper over to me in our language , “your clothes are not suitable for being Thai” and then starts to walk away.  I yelled out to her, in English, “you’re a fat hairy bitch, goony goo goo”

    She continues sauntering off and inside, I’ve snapped.  That was the third fucking time inside of 72 hours I’ve been told I’m not perfectly Thai , and at this point I had a fever, and the only prescription … was dancing with hot dudes.

     

     

    I turn around and Hercules begins asking me what that was all about but I cut him off mid sentence.

    “If you don’t go away, like right now at this instant, I’m going to punch you in the nose.” I said curtly.

    He laughed.  As if that wasn’t enough , he baited me by saying “if that’s what it takes then go ahead, punch me in the nose, I want to get to know y…”

    Bang.

    My left cross connected precisely with the bridge of his nose, my wrist finishing it’s rotation as it did so and then returning to my guard – just as I had been taught every day for the past few months as proper technique.

    perfect-girlI have no excuse as to why I did it , I’m certainly not violent – outside of my sessions at least.  I wasn’t really punching him per se , for in my mind I was simultaneously punching the three chicks who had deemed it necessary to scold me on my lack of Thai-ness the past few days.  Now I’m like 45 kilos soaking wet , so this was really very much like David attacking Goliath and just as it went down in the story , Goliath or in this case Hercules had fallen mightily to the ground, crashing into the table behind us as he did so , which in turn spilled the table behind it knocking two other people out of their chairs.

    I could hear the collective gasp over the pounding music from those seated around us.

    A trickle of blood leaked from his nose as he looked up at me more with astonishment than anger, thankfully.

    “I told you.” is all I said.  No apologies, that would be so unbecoming of me.  Then there was the flash of a camera , and there you have the essence of the photo in that online magazine, me standing over this Herculean model having “caused a vulgar scene” at the caption says.

    There was nothing vulgar about it.  I warned him, he chose to ignore the warning, and as it’s in my nature to do, I followed through with the warning.  It’s been my signature all my life.  I told them I was going to burn the clothes if things didn’t change before I did it.  I warned there would be the consequence of fetching a bicycle from the swampy river if it wasn’t shared equally with me , and just then I had told him there would be a punch to the nose.

    I guess guys appreciate honesty for do you know what he said when he finally got up?

    “You’re fucking perfect you know that?”

    Yes I am … just not perfectly Thai , and that’s perfect by me 🙂

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Butt Plug Super Hero | #2 Top Session in 2015

    Butt Plug Super Hero | #2 Top Session in 2015

    Everybody’s talking about my Butt Plug

    I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

    Everybody’s looking at my butt plug.  I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

    I’m the only one in town with a butt plug.  I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

    No one else around is wearing a butt plug.  I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

    I can swing my arms.  I can say I’m brave.

    I can dance down the street knowing I’m the only slave that’s wearing a butt plug.

    And I’m the only one.

     

    That song sums up the perspective of all you guys who feel you’re something special walking around with a butt plug in your ass 24 hours a day.  I think it makes you feel like you’re emitting some sort of Super Hero vibe that let’s everybody know you have the power of the plug in your ass.  Well I got news for you, I’m Lex Luthor’s daughter Lexa Luthor and I’ve got the Kryptonite that dis-spells your ass power.

     

     

    Being a Super Hero who chose to wear a butt plug 24 hours a day as their chosen super power is kind of like being a Super Hero with a major flaw in his abilities.  Like, if you had the ability to run incredibly fast without the ability to stop.  Or if you had the ability to fly but could do so only 1 inch off the ground.

    That’s because in the Submissive’s Guide to the Galaxy , first edition, page 494, paragraph 2, sub section one it clearly states :

     

    “The Super Hero Submissive may wear a butt plug for his super hero power if he so chooses, with the caveat that if it comes out of the ass dirty, he’s eating it, period.”

     

    inconceivable femdom jaa4uI have no regard for your incredulous mannerisms like the red teary eyed puppy face look, and I certainly don’t pay attention to the word ‘inconceivable’ no matter how many times it flies out of your mouth.  The fact of the matter is if the butt plug goes in black and comes out brown … unless it has a Mexican passport upon removal… it’s being sucked clean.  The effect on the submissive’s super power is then catastrophic.  It’s akin to removing Green Lantern’s ring and shoving it up his ass.  Ya, “aim now bitch”.

    Hey let’s stop for a second.  Seen the new Star Wars movie yet?  Mini spoiler here, but in the flick the bad guys have a world destroying ray gun that gets it’s power from sucking the energy from the sun.

    Wow, Superman Prime’s gonna be pissed.

    Superman Prime lives in the sun and Kylo kind of opened a whole new level of whoop-ass by doing that.  (I take no credit for knowing this, I got it from Jaa’s son who is an encyclopedia of Super Hero knowledge.)

    Ah, but I digress.

    The guy coming for the session with me had referred to his butt plug so many times in our email thread that when the day of the session arrived and I checked my calendar to see my notes on him, it simply read “butt plug guy” and I knew immediately who I was dealing with and what to expect.  My expectations of him were confirmed right away as he stood up in the lobby when I came down to greet him and he rose to approach me walking rather gingerly on the right side of the couch.  He tiptoed lightly to the elevator walking like a China man with no dick to weigh him down.  He even had that Jimmy Fallon ‘tight pants’ grin on his face like he was the proudest man in the land for wearing his butt plug.

    Newton’s fourth and lesser known law of physics is ‘what goes in must come out’ (unless you’re Paris Hilton, I’m quite sure she’s a permanent ass trophy inside Mr. Slave’s ass)

     

     

    After all, the guy wanted to try strap-on sex and I told him that unless he wants to be the future subject of the world’s most interesting colonoscopy procedure it’d be best to remove his super power device from his ass.  He bent over and as soon as I saw the density of the hair on his ass I knew NASA would have an easier time recovering Matt Damon than they’d have of recovering this lunar probe.   I put on my hazard suit, turned to my NASA special forces team and told them straight up “men, it’s dark and hairy down there, we might not all be coming back alive.”

    Put your finger inside your cheek and scrape it until it pops out from your lips.  That “plop” sound you just made is the exact same sound his butt plug made as I fully extracted it.  His ass looked like a hatched pod from Alien but instead of a face hugger this Zucchini like thing was hugging something else, like Skippy Chunky Peanut Butter only … worse tasting.

    “You.  Come here.”

    He knew it, just like a puppy that has made a mess on the kitchen floor, his reddening eyes showed that he knew my rules.  I only have three rules so they’re quite easy to remember.

    • If it comes out dirty, you’re eating it.
    • If you cum before I say, I’m rubbing the head of your cock until you scream or pass out.
    • Respect Broccoli

    Well, he hadn’t cum yet and there was no broccoli in the fridge so that left one rule to be administered.  I held it before his mouth and harshly barked out “clean it, now.”  His face looked like he’d rather inhale skunk farts than munch on his butt plug chocolate bar but after I grabbed him by the back of his hair and impaled his throat on it he traded his dejected look for wretching noises as his stomach did it’s best Gandolf “you shall not pass” imitation.

    “You throw up you’re eating that too” I told him quite frankly.

    Now it took slightly longer than it takes a kid to down brussels sprout (i’ve only heard, never tried, but willing to) but in the end he got it down.  I didn’t allow him to drink, gargle or brush, instead I continued on with his ass adventure as I suited up in my strap on harness.  His nightmare of a session was about to get worse for obviously right after the first full insertion my black dildo had also gone full Mexican on me.

    “Come.  Clean it.  Dirty Ass to Mouth time bitch.”

    “No please no, anything else, I can’t” and he began to cry.

    “What?  You can’t or you won’t?  In both cases you have to accept the alternative , 40 lashes.”

    The deadly serious tone in my voice I think made it quite clear to him that there was only one other option at that moment, and that meant taking the walk of shame out my condo door and being blocked from all future contact.  To you, if you haven’t met me yet, that seems like quite a viable option.  To anyone who knows me though, they know that I wear an XS sized dress and all other Mistress options in this country come in size L which means he wasn’t going anywhere.

    He chose to wear a butt plug in his ass like he’s wearing Iron Man’s chest battery, I didn’t force him to wear that so he’s gotta face the consequences.  It’s like if you go out looking for Bigfoot in the forest in the middle of nowhere dressed up in a female Bigfoot costume to lure him out :  and you hear a sudden loud grunt behind you.  When you whip your head around you see him … a 12 foot horny creature furiously pumping his two foot hairy dick in his hand making a “GWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR” noise …. well at that point you have to accept that you’re going to face the consequences whether you like it or not.

    “Lashes.  I’ll take the lashes.”

    “And you’ll count every one out loud?”

    “Yes goddess.  Yes.”

    “Good, then let’s begin ….”

    40 lashes femdom jaa4u

     

    You can ask me for the full video link , if I know you I’ll send it to you.

    You’ll agree though, he should have chosen a second licking.

    jaa xx

    [formcrafts id=’10805′ name=’Book A Session’ align=’left’][/formcrafts]

     

     

  • Sub in the Club | Down and Out

    Sub in the Club | Down and Out

    What’s happening in the picture?  Let’s see how well you know me.  Am I as wild as you may think I am … Or am I an innocent horror freak who had my evening boringly interrupted?  Below I’ve written two scenarios briefly outlining the events that led up to this moment, one being false and one being the honest truth of how things went down.  Read each of them and cast your vote for which you think is the proper account of things.  I’ll post the result next Friday.

    Edit:  Down and Out is the true account of events.

     

    The Sub in the Club

    It’s been a quiet week having only accepted three sessions, two on the Monday and the other on the Tuesday – none of which were noteworthy enough to write about, just two hour tease & denial sessions, all of which ended with the guy using up his safe word to give him his orgasm.  So by Thursday i was getting itchy to do something having had two days off but I had settled on buying a cheesy movie – San Andreas , and had just finished cooking up some food, successfully without burning anything this time when … ah let’s just call him ‘hot guy #1 from my dance class’ as they’re all kind of dreamy … he calls me and says my classmates are going out dancing at 11pm and asks me if I want to go along.

    dance-clubMy dance class has 4 cute as fuck guys in it, 1 not so great looking chick but one with a cool personality, and the others who are not that interesting at all to me.  It’s us 6 who usually hang out together on the weekends and now that I’m into semester three we’ve finally gotten over the “who’s gonna fuck her first” bravado men like to play and now that they know my pussy’s off limits we’ve sunk into a fun, albeit very flirty friendship zone that makes the evenings out super fun with no penis danger haha.

    Flash forward an hour later, just after midnight and I’m having a blast grabbing hunky waist or fleshy ass cheeks and turning guys on left and right when I get suddenly spun around from behind and the two arms of the girl in my class drapes over my shoulders and I’m dirty dancing with the girl who plays little miss innocent in class every week.  At most I was light headed having drank only 2 glasses of red wine and a vodka cooler so I was pretty aware of how she was rubbing herself against me, confirmed a moment later when she went in to kiss me.  Instead of meeting her lips i stopped her with my finger and said right into her ear, “it takes more than that” meaning it as a brush off so that I could get back to flirting with my guy friends.

    Instead she takes my fingers, puts them in her mouth and sucks one of them saying back “what does it take?”  Before I could think of something better to say the cheeky side of me shot back “you gotta be my slave girl”

    “and?” she replies right away.

    “and you have to follow everything I say”

    “and?” she smiles at me before sucking my finger again.food-i-cook

    Now it’s 5am and we’re back at my condo, her, me, and hot guy #1 and 2 … the others live out by K.S rd so they took off at 3 , and both of these guys were too far drunk to stand so I let them crash together in my bed with intentions of bringing this girl to the second bedroom while I’d sleep on the couch.  In the three months of classes together I hadn’t said more than two or three words to her as the way she’d pull off her innocent act annoyed me, I knew it was bullshit.  She’s Thai, and finding an innocent one of us that goes dancing with hot guys is as impossible as finding a widow who feeds on dreams and wishes still.  Me excluded,  *cough* 🙂

    So without much to say to one another now that we were alone in my living room I offered to warm up the food I had made before I ran out the door hours earlier and she agreed.  But instead of bringing her the food on a plate like the one I had served my portion onto, I carried over the metal bowl I make salad in and put it on the floor at her feet, then went back to the kitchen to get my plate without saying a word to her.

    “What do you really want?” I asked her as I walked back toward her, changing to English for the first time and adjusting the tone to match exactly how I command my voice when I’m in mistress mode.

    “kiss you” she replied.

    “Then bow down at my feet, head down to the floor.”

    She dropped so fast it took me by surprise.  Not letting that immediate power transfer slide for even a second I followed by saying “tell me you’ll eat anything that goes in that bowl, and if you prove it” I said, pausing for a moment before finishing, “I’ll let you kiss me a-ny-wh-ere you want tonight.”

    There was a pause for a few moments and in that time my condo was as silent as it has ever been the month I’ve been here, before her words “yes…ok” happily broke the silence, and with that I put down my dish and began to slip out of my panties.

     

    Down and Out

    I’d just finished watching my 50 baht horror movie Rec3 which in the end wasn’t worth the zero after the 5 as it failed to raise a single hair on my head and was frustrated to find that Soma, the horror game I had been downloading since 5pm still wasn’t finished installing itself on my computer.  With no sessions scheduled in three consecutive days and finally having the condo to myself for the first time in a month I’d chosen to have a little thrill time playing horror games and watching scary movies by myself with the lights out all through the night as my entertainment for a couple of evenings.

    I was rattling my fingers on my computer desk thinking what to do to kill the 30 or so minutes left before I could get playing my first game in … oh, ages and ages?  I was putting the Rec3 dvd backrec3 in it’s plastic wrap when I jumped 6 inches vertical in the air as my loud as fuck cell phone screamed out on the table beside me.  Who the hell was calling me at 3am?  Well now at least if the game sucks I can say I had something raise the hair on my head for the evening.

    I didn’t even recognize the number, it wasn’t blocked but it sure wasn’t a name in my contact list that I’d associated a picture to but I answered it anyways half hoping it’d be a prank phone call from the guy in the Scream movies.  I couldn’t make out a word the person was saying to me, it was half drunk gibberish and half bawling nasal crying.  Took a second, but I then recognized it was one of my closer friends, actually I had just recently seen her at her wedding a month ago, it was the photo in one of my stories with me wearing more makeup than Lady Gaga and the grey dress … some of my long time readers will remember it clearly.

    When I asked her where she was and what was wrong she blurted out “your condo” and “downstairs”.  Oh great, that’ll make a good bit of discussion for the gossiping security guards downstairs tomorrow, so I quickly headed to the lift to go get her.

    soma-posterI smelled her long before I reached her.  A bottle, if not two of whiskey had made her carry a warning zone radius of 10 meters, getting any closer would be hazardous to one’s nostrils.  I”m smaller than her and yet had to carry her to the lift with her half dragging her feet behind her and her chin stuck clinging to my shoulder dropping drool down the front of my Rolling Stone black t-shirt that I love.

    When I got her to my condo I wanted to zombie pull her over to my bathroom so she could hurl on more easy to clean flooring but we never got that far.  She collapsed in a sobbing heap on the floor and kept saying “he left me, he left me” in Thai crying for about 10 to 20 seconds before repeating the same words.  She stopped only to start gagging on her spit and I rushed to my kitchen, grabbed the first pan I could get my hands on, my metal salad bowl and put it beside her head for her to spit into.

    She managed to get one gob of spit out of her mouth, missing the bowl but at least it wasn’t vomit.  Moments later she passed out on the floor dead asleep and unmovable so I just left her like that, went to my bedroom and we both slept a good 10 hours until the mid afternoon today.  When I woke up she was gone, having left only a thank you message on my phone with an apology.  I was thankful she had left.  I grabbed some food, closed the drapes, and began day two of my horror festival by playing Soma … at 3 in the afternoon 😛

     

     

    Jaa xx

    [formcrafts id=’10805′ name=’Book A Session’ align=’left’][/formcrafts]

     

     

     

     

     

  • 20 kg Lighter | As Real As it Gets

    20 kg Lighter | As Real As it Gets

    It took 34 days for my slave to lose 20kg or 44lbs living as my willing submissive captive in my condo.  But this story is not about what he lost, it’s about what he gained which is a far deeper understanding of just how surreal the slave mistress relationship can be once free of the 2 hour session restraint.  A bit too surreal for even though he extended his contract on the 30th for another 14 days, he then asked me yesterday to be let out of the remaining 9 days so that he can end our relationship.

    He asked to be let out not because of mental strain inflicted from my weight loss domination, nor did he ask to go home because the tasks I asked him to do for me were too perverse.

    No.  In his own words, the reason he asked to go home was because “the feeling of submitting to me was becoming too intense” which is what I’ve been saying all along since I started writing this blog a year ago.  The slave/mistress relationship has a lot in common with the hostage/terrorist relationship in terms of the possible growing intensity of the interaction.

    I think where it started to go wrong, and by wrong I mean by letting the intensity get out of control without realizing it, was right after he weighed in at 86kg , not on the 29th as I had planned but on the 3rd … this past Saturday.  I thought a lot about why I decided to use the word “asshole” to start off my last story talking about him sneaking off to McDonalds to steal food and that should have been a big clue to me.  These stories I write, the first copy is either spoken into my phone or flash written without thought for grammar or any clever way of arranging my thoughts, it’s just a conduit that connects my tongue or finger to my brain to download all my thoughts.

    In that initial spewage of words I used the word “asshole” as well.  When I sent the story to my friend who acts as my editor he suggested I use a word that transfers “a calmer way of expressing your opinion of him” and I said no.  That’s how I felt about him taking his request to lose weight so lightly that he would go steal food from McD’s , after I had put in 100’s of hours making sure he walks that line between starving and getting by so perfectly.

    The whole thing started out as an idea, and then grew in intensity much more than I thought it would.  He would weigh himself on Sunday only and that transition from the 2nd weigh in to the 3rd weigh in where he lost 6kg in a week was shocking.  But more shocking was his behavior.  I wrote about it briefly, so you might think it was just a one off thing – his crying and insulting me or his threats to hurt himself – but really the crying got to be so frequent that I was able to shut it out as it became normal to come home and have him cry for 2-3 hours.

    What was happening below all that crying though, i’m sure of it now, was that he was expressing the relenting of the definition of who he was to me.  Think about that.

    We ultimately are all in control of who we are.  We control our actions which end up defining what kind of a person we are.  Going back once again to Maslow’s chart of human needs, those actions become more and more primal the closer a person falls approaches level 5 – our basic human needs.

    syriaWhen I was in Turkey last month, I had it happen to me two times that as I walked out of a place with newly bought food that it was stolen right out of my hand by Syrian refugee children no older than say about 5yo.  They ate my Shawarma the way a starving animal would eat from a bloody carcass, the most primal of behavior.  On both occasions I offered them the rest of my food as there is something inherently wrong with seeing a child truly starving for food.   Hey, don’t read that and get fooled into giving food to the mafia owned kids at the bottom of every public train station here.  Those aren’t starving children, that’s a con game to get your money out of sympathy.

    Now my slave wasn’t anywhere close to how desperate those Syrian kids were, but I think in his mind he was.  A guy who’s biggest question in life had been whether to up-size both his Coke and fries was suddenly questioning whether he could live on 5 mangoes a day … his only allowed food the final 3 days.  I took a guy who self admittedly floated between levels 2 and 3 on Maslow’s scale and made him fall to the lowest depths of level 5 where he had to contemplate the initial feelings of starvation.

    By controlling his food, in a sexy way I created this dependency, one rather similar to a mother baby relationship.  On the 29th of September, for the better part of 8 hours I let him suck on my toes as I dipped them occasionally in the Indian Marsala I had ordered and dangled them above the floor where he lay with his head sticking out from under the sofa.  I’d only feed him if he could shut his mouth which he couldn’t, constantly pleading “please —– , please —– , please feed me something” choosing to drop calling me Mistress or Goddess as he had all month and instead calling me by my real name without my permission.

    Now I’ve fed slaves like this before from my feet, just as recently as yesterday actually.  But yesterday’s 2 hour session really lacked the desperation that was so everywhere in the air during those 8 hours last weekend.  I watched 2 seasons of The Walking Dead to catch up and be ready for this month when season 6 starts, the whole time having him not once stop nibbling at my toes.  I had told him that if his focus went from my toes to the show … if he could in fact see it upside down from under the couch … that I’d put him back in his room with no food for 24 hours.  Foot worship doesn’t get better than that.  There was no prodding on my part, I just watched tv all night and never once did I have to remind him of his responsibility.

    See, normally what would happen, just as it did last night, is that the guy wants to be punished for “being bad”, which translates to being self absorbed into his desires and acting the part of being bad – a very typical level 2 or 3 Maslow trait.

    For eight full hours my slave last weekend sucked at my toes hoping that i’d give him a taste of sauce every hour or so.  “Being bad” I’ll bet never entered his mind even once.  As real as it gets.

    The next uncontrollable bought of tears came after his final weigh in on Sunday morning.  It wasn’t quite 20kg as he weighed in on my scale at 87 and a bit so we went to the market and found a 1 baht electronic scale that showed his final weigh in with me as 86.8 kg.

    Still, it was a bit much for him.

    We went to KFC to eat right after the weigh in and after ordering a 9 piece bucket with extra large gravy and mashed potatoes he ate all of one side of one slice before pushing it away to my side of our tiny round white table.

    20kg

    Now I thought that he was emotional from seeing his weight somewhere in the 80’s after spending the last 20 years of his life seeing triple digits every time he’d check his weight.  He hadn’t been eighty something since university he said.  So I was giving him all the time and space he needed to get used to it and enjoy the food.  He simply didn’t want to eat it though and when it came time to leave he wanted to leave it at the table.  I told him that wasn’t a possibility after seeing the 2 girls that had taken my food in Istanbul out of starvation.  I took the bucket instead to a guy I see sitting on the same bench outside Lotus every day.

    Unlike the guys you see laying as part of the sidewalk at every public transit station here this homeless guy didn’t have a fake bottom tray to push around.  Guys … don’t fall for the human carpet trick.  If you look at his bowl it has a cloth which is cleverly covering the 20’s, 50’s and 100’s collected throughout the day.  The guy who we gave the chicken to, he ate it with the same ferociousness as those 2 girls had done in Turkey.  That’s how I know we did the right thing.

    I was completely wrong though about the source of my slave’s emotion.  I had promised him that if he did one day make 86 kg then the rest of the time with me I’d treat him as my full time pet giving him my full time attention without leaving him alone for the remainder of his stay with me.  I’d assumed it’d be a few days at most.  Honestly, I never thought he’d make 86kg, I’m small so losing even 1kg of weight for me takes forever, 20 kg is unimaginable.

    So that night back at my condo I was eating rice with boiled chicken of all things … I hardly ever order it but I had one of those “what the fuck, why not” moments trying to order something fast to beat the rain coming home.

    This time watching the pilot of Lost which I’ve yet to see I had my meal on my lap as I slumped over to the right arm rest on my sofa with my legs stretched out.  The sofa allows me to lay stretched out like that which is how I like to watch movies, it feels kind of like the vip theater rooms here where you can watch a movie in style for 1000 baht.

    Except in the vip rooms you don’t get to have a slave under your ass as I had on Sunday haha.  Now whereas my slave wouldn’t eat anything from a bucket of KFC chicken a few hours prior, he was more than willing to chew up the bits of chicken I passed down to my asshole.

    When I told him I wanted him to get up and use the remote to watch the next episode I adjusted myself on the sofa so that I was laying down parallel to the television and all I said was simply : “you look amazing with your flat stomach, come let me put my head on it while you brush my hair.”

    Nothing out of the ordinary.  Just a simple compliment.

    88Fuck, one thing I’ve learned about being a Goddess is that I really have to carefully choose when and to whom I hand compliments out to.  You really have no idea how important that task has become to me.  There are … out there … an army of men, like I’m talking more than a handful ok … who if I complement too much will consider that politeness a crack in the door which they can bash through and be on the first flight from Alaska, Norway, Rome, or even Moscow to be on their knee the next morning offering me a ring to get married by.

    I have little doubt that I’m a mural on the wall in 1/2 the homes of men in India.

    A few minutes later as I’m having my hair brushed for me with my head on his lap I hear sniffling again.

    I look up and sure enough he’s wiping his eyes by stretching up his yellow t-shirt to rub them.

    “What?” I ask, “you can eat too, I bought two for you as well” which is true, and he had even picked out the pork with rice and gravy himself.  But it wasn’t the food he was crying over.  Just as it wasn’t the food he had cried over earlier at the mall.

    “I’m in love with you.” he whispered.  To which I sat up, the mystery of what the 6 numbers in Lost would have to wait because figuring out how a slave that I was nothing but cruel to for the past 34 days and yet was in love with me was an even deeper mystery.

    “How?” i laughed as I said the word.

    “You’re beyond beautiful.  You’ve done so much to change me that I can’t think of going back to live my life as I did before without you.”

    I replied simply, “and you’re handsome now that you’re as thin as you are, you’ll have girls looking at you wherever you go.” assuming he meant his appearance when saying how much I changed him.  But he affirmed how wrong I was in assuming that when he said,

    “You changed who I am inside.  I can’t go back to a normal life, I want to serve you.”

    the-real-jaaThat’s when I started to see all these deep feelings I had once thought were possible in a slave mistress relationship start to materialize right before my eyes, or more exactly … my ears.  It’s strange.  Even by not being at the condo all those days, especially when I was in Turkey, I was still at the condo.  Still with him, because even though that was early in our one month time together, he still was totally reliant upon me to ease his fall from level 2 on Maslow’s chart of needs down to level 5.

    I did it in such a sweet caring, but merciless way that he fell in love with me I think.  At the time I was really happy he had expressed his feelings like that for it was a complete confirmation of how I thought a month like this might end up.  Sadly proving again that I often think too much about the mental side of Femdom and not at all about the heart felt side of things.

    From my side of things, this guy paid me a hell of a lot of money to transform his life and deliver to him the submissive fantasy he had always kept hidden in his thoughts.  My job was to deliver both of those wishes in a way that I think nobody else possibly can.

    I delivered on both accounts.  Maybe a bit too much.

    He left that evening a few minutes after I told him that serving me full time here isn’t either a financial possibility or a logistical one as well.  Besides, before throwing one’s life away back home for a dream life serving me, I think one should consider the seriousness of such an adventure very carefully.

    I haven’t heard back from him since Sunday, and you know what, I don’t think I ever will.

    Sometimes, getting as real as it gets, take forever to get over.

     

    jaa xx

     

    [formcrafts id=’10805′ name=’Book A Session’ align=’left’][/formcrafts]

     

     

     

  • Cheating. Lying. Bastard Slave.

    Cheating. Lying. Bastard Slave.

    Cheating, lying, bastard slave.  I followed the asshole today, having to see where he goes when he leaves my condo because something hasn’t been right the last day and half.  Last time I weighed my live-in slave on the 26th he was 87 kg, just four away from the goal I told him he would reach by being my submissive bitch for the month, and then suddenly just two days later he weighs in at 88.2 kg earlier this morning.  As I told you, this being the last week of his weight loss domination I’ve rationed his meals down to 2 mangoes and however much rice he wants to allot himself over these last 3 days which is about a cup full.  You don’t go up a full kg eating just enough to survive.

    So I told him I was going out for a hotel session today at 1pm while actually I went down to the pool and moved the suntanning chair right to the edge of the small wall where I could look down at the lobby area to see people coming and going from my condo.  Sure enough, no more than 30 minutes later he left wearing his red shorts and black t-shirt and get this , my heart was pumping thinking I’d lose him in the time it took me to get down to the first floor , so much so that I began sweating in the elevator going down.  But it turned out fine, I got to the street and after really fast walking … even faster than I normally walk which is wickedly fast I caught up to him a minute later but stayed well enough behind him to see where he was going.

    I’ve got his wallet, his passport, his credit card, his atm cards all in my safety deposit box, and out of the 500 I gave him at the beginning of the month he’s now down to his last 37 baht which has to last him until the 29th.  So there’s no way the guy has money, unless he was going to Villa supermarket to get a pack of Mama soup , but even that is 48 baht, more than he has.  He walked right past Villa though and when he got to the top of soi 11 he went right passing under Nana skytrain station.  It occurred to me that he was walking with direction, like he had a destination in mind, because it’s a good 12 minute walk at his slow pace from my condo to the top of the soi, and another 5 minutes along Sukhumvit the way he was heading.

    We’re talking about a guy who’s been living on 1000 calories a day at most, without a trace of sugar except for the jam which is the only thing left in the fridge now that is sweet.  So i’d hardly make it to the washroom if I was starved like that, let alone go for a 20 minute stroll through Bangkok.

    Jaa's McDonald Bitch

    So this guy, he goes into the McDonald’s that’s at the corner of Soi 5 and for a minute I didn’t know what to do because he’d obviously see me if I followed him in.  However there was an outdoor chair available and i turned it so it was facing the street more or less giving him a view of the back of my head if he cared to look over at me.  I felt like when I was a girl climbing over the chairs to peek over the top when my mom used to take me long time ago.

    He didn’t go to the line up to order, he just sat down on the far side of the place with his back to the wall look directly over in my direction which is why i had to duck and sneak peaks every minute.  I thought he was meeting somebody.  I guessed that he had contacted a friend and this was the meeting place.  My phone is fingerprint password protected though so he didn’t call with mine, his is in my deposit box, so what the hell?  How is he calling?  Did he use some of the 500 baht for an emergency call?  Ok, but that still doesn’t explain how he went up 1kg in 48 hours instead of down.

    Thirty minutes he just sat there, and it was mid afternoon with the sun and few clouds so I was getting hot, pissed off, mad.  Mostly I was getting tired of looking back and spying on him because he wasn’t doing anything until, well until he stood up and walked right to the window to my left on this side of the store.  I got that heart pounding again because I thought he had seen me, he walked directly towards the door in front of where I was sitting.  But then he sat down where two fat muslim chicks had just been sitting and you know what the fucker did?

    He started eating the french fries they had left behind and the last bite of one of the cheeseburgers they left as well.  I had to smile, I mean not because what he did to scavenge food was brilliant, but because his month with me had reduced him to this, eating other people’s leftovers.  I not saying I had an evil smile, I’m saying that one of the things I wanted to teach him when all this started which was to have a deeper respect for food was apparently clear to him now.  I want the guy to reset his whole lifestyle, his whole outlook on life and the reason we are on this planet, and there’s nothing like the humbleness of starvation to do that.

    jaa4uAny hi-so guy can go on a starvation diet.  What I’ve added to his diet is a desperation.  By sitting in McDonalds eating other people’s scraps, he learned that he has a survival gear I bet he never knew he had.  One that millions of us Thai’s have forcefully had to develop at a much much earlier age.  It’s what separates us from you, it’s just not possible for you to relate to somebody fully if you’ve never gone years without worrying where food will come from.

    As much as I felt sorry for the guy though, the fact is that he broke the rules of our contract.  There’s no clause that says he can’t go eat leftovers, I didn’t plan for that honestly, it’s my first time taking somebody into water this deep.  However since he initially came to me for a Weight Loss domination program, i’d say he clearly stepped over the line of what I’d allow and for that he needed to be punished.

    Beside the McDonald’s there’s a whole lot of small shops and I went looking for a coat hanger or something cheap I could use to smack this guys ass and I settled on a wooden cooking spoon.  Bursting through the door to his right he looked up with the look of a 6 year old kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

    “I’m sorry mistress” he mumbled with his mouth full of fries that he had stuffed in his mouth as soon as he saw me.  His hands raised to his chin in the “I surrender” pose.

    “Up, get up.” I said.  Walking around to his back side I lashed him 10 times with the spoon on his ass pausing to make him count each stroke.  I don’t go to McDonalds ever so personally I didn’t give a fuck that everybody was watching, I’ll never see them again anyways.  However I did want to get out of there before the UPS wannabe guys in brown came around, just takes a phone call.  So I grabbed him by his ear and dragged him outside, put him on the motorcycle taxi waiting across the street and sent him home paying the taxi guy in advance.

    “When I get home I want to see you on your knees in front of the toilet, no excuses.” I told him sternly.

    One way to guarantee me to shit is to eat shit, so I went not to McDonald’s but to the Burger King down the street on the other side of Nana intersection to order one of their burgers.  Disgusting, I nearly vomited eating it and left half of it on the tray.  How the hell people eat crap like that?  Even in New Zealand I never gave in to fast food even though it was all around me and hardly any Thai food to eat in its place.

    Thirty minutes later I get home, my stomach ready to erupt suddenly.

    Dude was on his knees like I told him to do but as soon as I walked into the bathroom he starts crying out “please mistress I’m sorry, I don’t want to eat your shit, I don’t want it, please I can’t.”  He says that over and over like a 4 year old, even pausing to make the sobbing sound kids do when they cry too hard.  You know, I’ve had this question floating in my head for a long long time, asking myself can I as a mistress still respect a guy fully after he’s eaten my shit?  With the way this guy was reduced to nothing more than blubbering ooze on the floor before me without even having smelled my ass let alone taste my shit, I’d say the answer to my question is a big fat no.

    “You’re not, watch me shit instead, if you want to eat i’ll leave it in the toilet for you.”

    Not exactly my dream of having a guy eat from my ass like it’s ice cream, a hope that I had for this guy as early as yesterday but my fantasy will have to wait I guess.  Still, no more goddamn mangoes for this guy in the morning.  Tomorrow is the 28th, essentially the last day of our contract as I have to release him if he wants on the 29th.  He can go a day with his rice, he has enough for a morning cup and an evening cup if he spreads it out.  I’ll leave enough water in the fridge and he’s hardly touched his lime juice so I’m thinking he won’t pass out on me.

    human toilet training jaa4uBut I’m going to make it awfully tempting to fish my Whopper out of the toilet water in the next 24 hours.  I told him so too.  I took his head when I was done and by his hair I forced his face down so his lips were touching my poo filled water in the toilet.

    “You like fast food lor?  Ok there’s your Whopper, fucking eat it when you’re hungry enough.  Then get the fuck out on the 29th, I have no time for cheaters looking for a way to zig zag out of their problems.”

    “Please mistress, don’t do that, I’m sorry.  I’ll do anything.”

    What?  I forgot what I wrote in my last blog, that I really believe as hard as I have been on him for the whole month he will elect to not leave tomorrow.  Well day after tomorrow, it’s 1am on the 28th as I write this.

    This guy might actually stay.  Have I broken him?

    I’ve given him since day 1 a journal to write in which I thought might help fill the time since my condo has no internet or cable.  Ah I lie, it does now.  They came to put the internet in early this morning with the cable guy coming on Monday so if this dude does decide to stay I doubt he’ll write anything if he has at all until now.  I might have to restrict his tv , i don’t know.  Fuck, I’m drifting, sorry.  It’s late, i’m tired.  I did a 3 hour session beside the old airport today that took 6 hours out of my day, most of it stuck in a taxi.  Hate that.

    So so, hell, this guy might be broken.  I’ve really been looking for a guy who serves because he needs to, not because he enjoys it, but rather because it’s his duty.  I think with this huge experiment I might be able to extract such behavior from this dude, if he elects to stay.

    If he does, I’ll make sure he learns what “I’ll do anything” really means.

     

    jaa xx

     

    [formcrafts id=’10805′ name=’Book A Session’ align=’left’][/formcrafts]