Since 60% of marriages end in a financially devastating divorce , from which both parties cannot ever recover financially in time for their retirement , I often wonder why this archaic human ritual persists to this day?
If you were asked to volunteer for a trip on an airplane, wherein you knew in advance that you’d be forced to jump out of once it reached maximum altitude , but that 60% of the parachutes would malfunction and those people would plummet to their death … how many people would agree to sign up for the experience?
0%. Nobody would be so stupid , and yet – 80% of the population volunteer for the broken parachute known as marriage.
Why do they sign up for certain heart ache and a legal dogfight worse than war itself?
I think it’s because most people are not comfortable with what I’m doing right now, sitting alone here in my condo since 5pm , sipping on Earl Grey tea with Mozart’s Requiem in D minor playing ever so softly in the background , writing away well past midnight both happy and content in my solitude.
Given my looks , which is pretty easy to say that I’m not hard on the eyes , had you told me in my university days when I was young and my mind full of shared societal dreams that I’d be still single 18 days removed from my 31st birthday , I’d have called you a fool.
Yet here I am. As single as a Popsicle stick. And yes, truly 18 days out from my birthday.
I had , well not a meltdown , but definitely a ‘pause for concern’ this past week.
William Somerset: [Reading from one of John Doe’s journals] On the subway today, a man came up to me to start a conversation. He made small talk, a lonely man talking about the weather and other things. I tried to be pleasant and accommodating, but my head hurt from his banality. I almost didn’t notice it had happened, but I suddenly threw up all over him. He was not pleased, and I couldn’t stop laughing. (Quote from the movie: Se7en)
I did throw up , but only inside my mouth , and only a little. Yes it was mid session , and no it had nothing to do with the man’s body odor.
It’s just, with my mom sick in the hospital last month and my own medical expenses for my gashed ankle running amok , I did something I don’t normally do : I accepted pretty much every session request without the detailed scrutiny I normally police myself with. Being an established mistress , there are no end to sessions if I do indeed choose them all , and that’s what I had done for the entire duration of May. In the span of a 31 day period I did well over 67 sessions. By comparison , I normally see about 18 people per month on average , purposely limiting myself to no more than 6 session per week, and preferably 3 or 4.
Ok boys listen up , I’m putting in my birthday wish early, 18 days early to be specific. This perfume can’t be bought in Bangkok so I’m looking for someone sweet to bring it with them and surprise me for my bday. I need ONLY 1 bottle so I’ll post once it’s been bought for me. pic.twitter.com/BxUBnKd5wz
By the time one of you is invited to my condo for a female domination session , we are normally quite good friends having gotten to know one another extensively through our email exchanges , and I’ve deemed you in my mind as being someone interesting enough that I would care to meet here in my humblest of homes.
I’m hardly if ever rude in my session , there’s no need to be. The whole premise behind my style of female domination is that I play the mental game of making you doubt whether you’ve just seen your all time favorite mistress or whether you just met the girl of your dreams and long for a relationship with her but have no idea from where to begin. I delight in making men bothered by such an internal fight with their mind , and it can only happen when I’m in the presence of men I totally enjoy being with.
But when I invite nearly 70 men to my place they not only become faceless , they ire me in ways I’m not accustomed to feeling.
Ended up kicking two people out of my condo within five minutes of the session beginning. That never ever happens ok. In the 3/4 of a decade that I’ve been a mistress I can recall only one other time where I abruptly ended a session in it’s infancy. To have to do it twice within a week angered me.
To have to engage in banal small talk over and over and over three times a day began to grate on my nerves.
Sitting with people I couldn’t stand, people who if you if you saw them eating you wouldn’t be able to finish your meal , I hit a point where I couldn’t take it.
So, in the middle of a session while asking this rather obese hairy slob of a man to strip in my bedroom , I threw up in my mouth at the site of his cock and spat my bile out on the leathery strands of my whip which I held in hand at the time.
I then beat him like I’ve never beat a man in my life. I punished him for being a slob , for being an obese fat pig who thought it was fine to have such smelly sweaty armpits that it offended my nose from 5 meters away.
I flogged him black , blue and bloody.
Then I ordered him out of my condo and threw his pants out in the hall after him leaving him to bleed on the hallway carpet naked and disgusting.
And then as I sat there thinking about him and all his disgustingness , it dawned upon me that he had worn a wedding ring.
I thought, what woman out there has let her life slip into such a hell that this man is the creature who comforts her every night? Why would she settle for that? What hell is marriage actually?
So, my apologies to all those nice people out there whose sessions I abruptly cancelled last week. I needed time to reset myself. I needed a few nights of Mozart and the smell of my own perfume , alone with my thoughts and a nice glass of Bordeaux wine in hand.
I’m ever aware that the previous Mistress Jaa was somewhat insane by the time she decided to pack Mistress life in and handed the reigns over to me as she faded into a reclusive retirement. I dare not to follow in those same footsteps.
Yes she was making half a million per month at the time, but at what cost.
We’re meant as a species to be selective about whom we meet and invite into our lives. That I’ve politely turned down 12 session requests this weekend alone and accepted only two tells me that I’m back on the right path of finding happiness through my job as a Mistress.
What can you take out of this , especially if you’re a first time visitor to my blog? First impression dude , it’s all about the first impression you make on me when you fill out the form below. In the end I choose the most charming, the most adventurous , the most decent of men back to my condo.
Dare to make yourself charming, adventurous and decent … and you’ll indeed have a shot at experiencing my delightful side and the pleasures it brings.
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]
Well that birthday thing is inevitable , it’s coming again, three weeks out and trying to stop it is as fruitless as tryin’ to stop a black man rushing the buffet table on free Chicken Sundays at Denny’s.
I’ve been thinking about the things that have changed in me over this past year , because – I’ve adjusted my mindset more this past year than any other time in my life.
Out of all the ways I’ve changed the one that stands out to me the most is my view on being single.
I’ve earned it.
Like an aimless voyage through space I’ve successfully navigated the marriage maelstrom , and survived the pregnancy nebula , heck I even circumnavigated around the black hole of eternal debt. On the other side of the wormhole is this calm and rewarding passage through dark matter that nobody gets to see , only me.
That I know of , every single girl in my village that I was either friends or acquaintances with growing up – about two hundred in total , give or take a few – … has a baby , … is or has been divorced , … has lost her figure , … is in debt or is ungodly poor , … has no assets , … and is terribly unhappy.
The only thing I’m unhappy about is that I’m still Thai and I still live in this cesspool of humanity.
But those things I can change , and one of the things I’ve matured about since turning thirty is that I can dictate how I get out of here , and with whom.
Like, I used to cry over men. Cry over relationships. Why? What a colossal waste of time.
Most Thai girls will fuck anything that moves. If a Thai girl comes over to my condo – the fish stop swimming.
I choose who I fuck. Which is fine, but the best thing is that I’ve let him know right from the first time I invited him back to my place is that he is nothing more than a fuck toy for me. I keep ’em young , hot , and without hope of a future with me. So my sex life has evolved to the point where my lover is my sex slave.
On the days where I don’t want to fuck him I’ll push him down to my ass and let him sleep with his nose in my bum ; or I’ll tell him to come up and cuddle me. Point is, I do whatever I want with him.
But get this , the more I mistreat him , the more he’s hooked on me.
He doesn’t know it yet but my ultimate plan with him is to turn him into a whimpering cuckold as he watches his heir apparent take his role in the bed. I know for certain that when I break it off with him he’ll beg me , grovel on his knees like a pheasant , and I’ll grant him one last chance to be with me … bound and gagged in my closet watching me ride the dick of the next guy I choose to fuck – smiling at him while I do.
Pretty fucking bad eh? I really don’t care. Couldn’t care one iota about the feelings of any sex slave I choose to employ. They’re there to pleasure me until I’m done with them , and the greatest thing is that there’s absolutely no emotional involvement on my part.
Sure it’s nice to go out to eat , nice to see a movie with someone, nice to share a bottle of wine on the couch , and nice to squirt all over his body when he makes me cum.
But there’s no comparability beyond that.
I guess that’s what happens as a mistress matures , at least it’s what’s happening to me. Men have evolved in my mind to the point where I see them as simply tools. And like a tool , they fit only a certain type of job so there’s a need for many of them.
Love you say?
That’s just another nebula one has to fly through to see what’s on the other side.
Instead of love, let me throw a different form of terminology at you. How about “functional compatibility.”
We’re compatible in that : we’re around the same age more or less , we have the same financial status , we are childless , not in a relationship , never married , open minded … oh and … you have a burning desire to serve me and make me happy. That’s compatibility.
Functional , as in : Our relationship serves a purpose , we’re not lonely, we can have conversations , hell I might even fuck you now and then. Your submissiveness to me means you have no problems with me having a fuck toy. Nor does your insecurity get in the way of commenting on what I do for a living.
If I want to be a mistress in whatever country we live in , then that’s how it’s going to be.
The minute the man tries to implement his curriculum into what we have going then that’s the very moment the partnership ceases to become functionally compatible. And it’s over.
That’s how I look at life now. It’s gotta be all about me. My happiness, my wealth , my freedom, my sexual desires satiated with whomever I want.
So as my 31st birthday approaches that’s my focus for the next year , to enter into a functionally compatible relationship , one that gets me out of here as that’s part of the functionality I’m talking about.
And if it doesn’t happen, I’m totally fine with being single.
Single with no debt, no kids, a big ass television screen and a subscription to Netflix.
Oh and my fuck toy boy whom I’ll be tossing to the curb shortly.
Wanna replace him? Apply within. Models only need apply.
Not a model? Then apply for the other position.
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]
As I was going to St.Ives , I met only men that were full of lies.
Every lie had seven stacks
Every stack had 0 facts
Every fact had a funny act
Every act had shifty eyes
Stacks, facts, acts and eyes, what per cent of men were full of lies?
A: All
Me: “So Allen, how was Bangkok?”
“Mistress, I have no idea what you’re talking about, as I told you before I had to cancel our session because our business meeting was changed at the last minute and I instead had to fly to Dubai where I spent three awfully hot days in the sweltering heat. Believe me, I would MUCH rather of spent my time with you.”
Me: Oh, then this was your twin brother walking down my soi yesterday with his whore in hand , I see.
Busted.
Or, “Sorry mistress, there’s been a sudden death in the family , I must return to India immediately so my apologies I cannot see you again this evening.”
“Ah that’s ok, that’s the 153rd dead grandmother I’ve inadvertently cursed to death this year. My magic is indeed far reaching, but then again, I was gifted by being born under the Constellation of Femdomali which gave me a +5 to Intelligence at birth , so hexing grandma’s to the netherworld are but a drop in the bucket for me magic-wise. Enjoy your trip.”
Perhaps I shouldn’t have made him eat his poop off my dildo , but rules are rules, and without them what would we have? Anarchy?
What else? Ah this guy, who told me he owns a large business in Toronto and that I’m welcome to fly around the world with him as his business demands he travel far and often. Of course there’s this thing called , um , what’s it called again … ah yes, Google. So a quick search of his name gave me his Facebook , and scrolling down through his photos and posts uncovered his significant other, then a bit more digging uncovered a photo at a photocopy shop where lo and behold a guy looking an awful lot like Mr International Conglomerate CEO slaving over a photocopy machine. Ya, the dude has a shop as big as my bathroom at the corner of Lawrence and some other rinky dink street. Perhaps his international travels take him to the furthest reaches of the earth in search of ink? Methinks.
Mistress what’s your point in all of this?
Point is dear readers, that men are born with a bullshit gene that multiplies horribly out of control with age and slowly but surely they become quite the common thing on this planet : Men Without Substance.
So by that definition, substance can therefore be defined as simply a man who can tell the truth? Well, not exactly.
There’s truly a lot of shallow men who speak only true thoughts as well.
I don’t exactly know how to define a man with substance , but I can tell you this , I know him when I see him.
I’ve come across two such men recently , one I met in person and one I sat and listened to on YouTube with awe.
Mistress … um , well I should say Mistress Wael – but since she’s been liberated from her three years in bankruptcy has gone and officially changed her name in real life – to Tia as her nickname and then completely changed her name and surname on her ID to wash away the remnants of who she once was. Anyways, as the story goes, Mistress ‘Tia’ (sounds strange still to me) asked me to translate a YouTube video for her this week as the English was over her head but she needed to be conversant on what was going on in the video because one of her slave’s had sent her the link.
Bit of backstory there – they both enjoy Jiu Jitsu and have met for numerous FemDom wrestling sessions so that’s their common ground when it comes to email and SMS discourse.
So last Friday afternoon I found myself at her condo trying to convey what these two gentlemen were discussing in the video link that was sent to her , and it started out as a nightmarish thing for me as I have no interest in any talk about fighting. I did my two years of Muay Thai , daily , but I did it for the fitness and not for the love of the sport. In reality, Wael only does Jiu Jitsu to make her Female Domination Wrestling sessions quite real , she doesn’t really need to dwell further into the sport by listening to conversations sent to her , but I totally get the respect she wants to show her loyal fan by watching the link he sent.
We’ve done this many times before, but all the links have been some sort of Female Domination / BDSM clip so the translation I had to do previously was entirely basic.
Bored out of my mind I started to loosely translate what the New Zealander was talking about , but then as time went on I found myself listening more and more intently. Half because the man spoke at a whisper level , but half because each word had purpose. In layman’s terms, this guy knows his shit, like nobody else in the world.
This five minute analysis of his student in a fight with a much older , much more experienced , much more decorated Jiu Jitsu fighter – and how his student dismantled and demoralized the man like a wolf stalking a chicken – is fascinating.
I don’t know a thing about the sport. What I can tell you from watching those five minutes is that this guy is a Man of Substance.
Everything he says comes from a well of knowledge so deep. Our planet would do well to have 50% less of men who shoot the shit with nothing consequential to say, and 50% more of men like him. Not Jiu Jitsu men specifically, just men of substance , men as knowledgeable and reputable on whatever it is they excelled at. Geez I’d like to meet a man like that, just once.
Well I did , sort of.
The very next day I had a dual session with Wael / Tia , whatever , and our visitor was a man who prided himself that his dick could not be hurt in any way shape or form , that he simply does not acknowledge pain and wanted us to test him on his resolve.
Being a Tease & Denial mistress it’s not often we get requests for abusive pain , in fact, it’s quite a rare thing. Oh but many men like to brag and boast about their mental and physical resolve. It’s just that few follow through.
Emails asking for ball busting sessions are pretty much laughed at by me and I reply with all kinds of snarky humor because I know the dude isn’t going to follow through on his request.
In fact the only other type of email that I take more liberties with are those who haven’t bothered to write more than 5 words in their request.
But that’s just me being mean , in the ballbusting replies I’m simply “unbelieving” and my tone of reply is very much a ‘show me’ type of response.
Gotta admit, this guy’s soul was made of iron.
We drilled holes in his dick …. not a peep.
We spanked it , flogged it , kicked it , stepped on it, trampled it … not even a sound of complaint.
… and it wasn’t so much the wax that tested his resolve , but rather the lighter that was heating his balls like a Bunsen burner that was discomforting to him.
At first there was a squeal that was contained deep inside his throat , and then a growl from the same depths … sounding much like a bear awaking from hibernation at the depth of his cave.
I’m not sure how he thought making himself go cross-eyed added to his power , surely if there was any truth to mother’s tales of one’s eyes getting stuck in such a position would have held true , for in this case his eyes were so well crossed that they may very well have exchanged sides for a moment of time.
And yet, for two hours, all we got out of him was that stifled roar. Truly a man of substance for his actions backed his words.
Now he might not be able to heel hook anyone anytime soon , but I guarantee you there is nothing, absolutely nothing – his wife can threaten him with regarding that area of the body.
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]
Truth be told, I’m fucking exhausted from writing my Kindle book and have neither the patience nor the mental acuity to construct a properly thought out story at the moment. I’ve put in back to back ten hour writing sessions and have two chapters done so progress is being made. It’ll be published by the end of the month.
So instead, I’m just going to write off the top of my head, most of my thoughts will come from emails I answered today – but I’ll have to rewrite them here for the blog so they come across as a more toned down version of what I had to say privately.
So whats first.
It’s a hell of a thing to write a book. This is about the tenth time I’ve tried but the first time that I’ve just said “fuck it, I’m going to write it from the heart just like I write my blog” and it’s working. When I go back and read it , it sounds like me instead of me trying to sound like an author , if that makes sense. Who’s gonna read the 9-10 copies it’ll sell initially, you right? And I think you’d be a little bit disappointed if it didn’t sound like everything you’ve read to date. So I’m happy with what I’ve written in that I think it’ll please you.
Hard though. Hard to write such personal things about me without thinking I’m going to come off like a total bitch. But that’s who I was I suppose back when I was twenty, the time period that the first two chapters covers.
Hey the database problems the website has been having are all fixed finally. I got it figured out, and in the end it was what both my host and the theme’s author were telling me all along , that it was the addons that were preventing the upgrade to EasyApache 4.
So now that’s fixed, I can finally start doing more things behind the scenes like increasing how fast the site loads for you and things like that. I’m reading up on it , it’s a lot to learn and a bit pricey but it’s fun to make stuff like this a part of my knowledge base.
Yesterday I was thinking after a frustrating twelve hours of reading , just how many other Thai girls know what Content Delivery Networks are , what Pingdom is , and what CornerStone content means. All stuff I learned yesterday, which made me gloat a little bit and lessened the frustration level considerably.
This all started from a guy I’m chatting with – one of the clueless of who I am guys from my dating stories – telling me that I don’t rank very high for BDSM on Google searches.
Since day 1 I never considered myself a BDSM mistress. Those letters represent the words Sadism and Masochism, and had I been born a three toed sloth I could count all the sessions on those three toes the number of times I’ve had a session representative of what those words mean.
I do sexy Tease & Denial sessions. Sessions so sexy it sticks in the mind’s of men for a very long time. I include Female Domination or FemDom in my sessions upon request , so ya , those are the three words I rank top 3 for in Google.
But he made me reconsider a bit, and perhaps I should make efforts to also get into the top 10 of BDSM results.
So the sharpest of you have noticed the introduction of the word BDSM both on the Home page and in the Menu across the top of the website.
Once I pay for the Snippet addon I’ll feature the word BDSM in the Google snippet. Then the next bit of work that has to be done is to get the site to load much much faster on mobile devices as well as laptop or desktops. That’s where my CDN reading will hopefully pay off sometime this week.
Ok so that’s what’s going on behind the scenes. Dumb Thai girl trying to make herself literate enough about SEO so that I can make my website better myself without paying somebody $40/hour to do it for me.
So, book’s being written, database headache fixed , what else?
Oh ya, I finally – like finally … learned how to link my laptop to my TV so I can watch Netflix on the big screen. (can you name the movie in the clip above?) Again, it was such a simple fix , but had to put in the time to research what I needed on YouTube and then went out to buy the thingy that was needed , and was happier than a pig in shit when I connected it all and it damn well worked.
Cinderella.
One of original Jaa’s most memorable stories and I think I’ve referenced the topic once or twice before as well. Did you ever stop to think how we both know about Cinderella’s story?
This guy assumes popular English literature is a staple in our schools growing up :
Yes, I have read Jaa’s Cinderella as well. But I meant Cinderella (Aschenputtel) written by the Grimm brothers. Please do not tell me you haven’t read it in school. Please!!!
I never read Cinderella. It’s simply not taught here. Any literature in school originating from outside our borders is harder to find than chocolate covered birdseed. Remember, the idea here is to graduate as many illiterate and barely functional people as possible. How else is one going to convince 60 million people in 2018 that working for $8 a day is perfectly fine and accepted by all across the flat earth.
Speaking of 2018 , this little back and forth conversation lifted from my emails is one of the many times I’ve let out how crazy a time period I think this is. One where we’re on a parabolic curve of technological advancement, but hindered by long since outdated practices that we somehow still adhere to :
“So I put you on the calendar for July 9th or thereabouts.
Life is indeed short , too short. I’ve basically accomplished nothing yet and here I am 30 years old.
In another 30 years I’ll 60 and looking starkly at the last remaining years left on this planet , and degenerating rapidly.
So really, I have only the next 30 to accomplish everything I need to do. Scary huh?”
Mistress, Re: your reply below…
Well it is scary when you are young looking forward but actually as you get older it gets easier…especially for those who are aware and are willing to challenge themselves as you seem to do. Many people give up at the crucial point and turn to religion or drugs or any other masks to mental hard work… If they just persisted eventually they would burst through and find it is not so bad and life gets easier every day… As the Alchemist points out “it is about the journey not the destination….” (Paulo Cloello) The Alchemist.
Funny you should say that about turning to religion.
All religion is a joke frankly. It’s something that will fade away as more centuries pass. We’re just too damn close to the Renaissance period , two more generations should separate ourselves from that barbaric period and the rituals carried forward from it.
It’s hard to believe that in a time of staring at our electronic devices and letting our cars auto pilot us to work that we still listen to people who dress up like they’re in a Harry Potter movie … and not only listen but believe fully the supposed writings of people who existed several centuries ago.
Don’t get me started on politics. This hilarious system of governance we have will one day too end. It’s a funny time we live in. Trapped by the traditions of the dimwitted past as we embrace technological advances that embolden us.
It’s true.
Look at the photo to the left. I’ll tell you what I see.
I see a chair that’s overly pompous, sort of like the one from Game of Thrones. One that screams “I, the one who is sitting down in this overly elaborate chair am not only a man of great importance but I clearly recognise my own importance to the point where I’m going to have this multi million dollar chair made just so my ass looks more important sitting in it.”
Then to make myself look more important I’m going to have this very melodramatic hat made , one that is three times taller than the head of any actual human being’s head because that once again puts an exclamation mark on the head of the person wearing such a sill albatross of a thing.
Also, instead of having normal glasses or cups, the table will be adorned with golden goblets, because that also is a fine waste of money all the suckers who believe this bullshit have sent to us.
Oh let’s throw in some sort of strange ceremony too , like we’ll put this pompous hat on a child and scare the ever loving shit out of her by having the hat talk.
Let’s make sure as well that everybody associated with the ceremony wears equally outlandish clothes to further add importance to this shit that it may be one day looked back as historical tradition and thus said crazy clothes must forever be worn during the performing of this ceremony.
Finally, let’s ostracise anyone who dares not to follow along with the witch like ceremony and threaten them with banishment from this invisible magic school that nobody but those invited can attend.
Now look at the photo to the right.
This is what I see from that photo.
Exactly everything I just said above applies to that photo.
Notice the hat. The goblet. The fanboy’s who play along wearing similar fancy clothes to appease the man who’s allocated for too much importance to himself by sitting in the Game of Thrones chair.
Don’t forget the ostracism , the heaven and hell shit , just to make sure you comply. Of course let’s erase that statement the little funny man on the chair said about there not being a hell.
This is how it happens folks, little by little the crazies at the top are going to realise the absurdity of what they do and as their followers dry up they’ll slowly start to admit that what they’ve been preaching is just a hoax.
Oh I’m not talking about fast change, I’m talking about a couple of generations.
Same thing with government. The days of choosing one person , usually an actor or a charlatan, to lead hundreds of millions of people , only to have said person actually controlled by corporations – will one day too come to an end. The internet dictates it. As does our race towards developing frightening AI accelerates.
I was mentioning this to one of you guys who emailed me a couple of days ago.
I asked him, when talking about how fast technology has exploded upon us , “does anyone even remember Research in Motion from Waterloo, Canada and how important their cell phones once were?”
He replied :
Dennis
May 14 (2 days ago)
to me
Oh, you lived in Canada. Not one in 500 remembers Research in Motion.
Sent from my iPad
No, but I’m very aware of the macro state of things changing around us. For instance, if you consider that the first time you or I talked on our Iphone to SIRI or to Cortana on Window’s 10 we got a kick out of it. What was that, a few years ago?
And now … holy shit …
I’ll bet you 90% of you guys watched that and shrugged your shoulders saying something unassuming like “oh, cool.”
That video is not “oh, cool” , that video should hit you across the face just as hard as someone who’s lived all his life underground and comes to the surface one day only to look at the stars and fall to his ass pointing at them screaming “what the fuck are those?”
I hope AI becomes a reality in my lifetime. I’d love to see a speaking form of AI give an accurate analysis of what our current religion and governance is actually like.
I’ve always been like this.
Questioning everything since school has made me the mistress I am today. It’s nice that I don’t get in trouble for it now that I’m free of people telling me how I should act and behave.
I reflected back on a conversation – a rather one way conversation – I had long ago in the school administrator’s office, after this guy’s email set off a trip down memory lane for me :
Introduce Yourself : Your name, age, and country : Darren 57 Canada
What are your interests for your session? I want to learn from you. your mind is, is, wow
Single or double mistress session? Session with Jaa
What Length of Session are you interested in? 4+ hour (Be your Mistress’s Submissive Boyfriend), 10,000 baht + Expenses
Pick a Date: 03-06-2018
jaa4u.com | Goddess <[email protected]>
May 13 (3 days ago)
to Darren
Hey Darren, here’s a funny story that your comment recollected.
Back in school, I think it was Grade 12 , my teachers had pretty much had enough of me and wanted me out of the school as soon as possible. No number of suspensions, beatings, warnings, had deterred my behaviour so in a sort of an intervention they dragged me to the school office where I had to speak with the administrator of the school … a hag of a lady.
She was the type of lady who , if you could wring her like a wet towel, would drip Thai customs and traditions from her nostrils. She wasn’t just affected by the brain washing soap, she had eaten the whole goddamn bar.
Anyways, she sits me down and after a few minutes of silence where she looked over my incident report sheet , she looks up at me , shakes her head and says “your mind is just … wow” , in Thai … “samong khun baep … oieeeeeeee”
So it’s funny you said that exact same thing years later but in a nicer way. 🙂
Thank you for that , sometimes a simple email like that can make me reflect on how far I’ve come from the solitary and much hated girl I once was.
Of course I’m still hated. The email just before yours was one describing the many ways I should kill myself lol. Ying and yang of daily emails 🙂
This … is why I so much want to stop living in such a close minded, secretly racist place full of corruption and no moral values … and move to a Country like Canada where I could be proud to call home. https://t.co/KwOMOG80Ww
I wish I could pack up and move with my Mom to Canada. I’d love to open her mind up to how life could be if we lived in a place accepting of other people regardless of where they were from.
Mostly though, I’d just like her to have proper hospital care without having to pay for it like it’s the most shady back alley business in a run down drug addicted part of town.
I mean, I had to have the stitches from my ankle removed two separate times , and each time they knocked me for 5,000 baht. What a petty money grab.
My Mom, I’ve had to pay well over 1/4 of a million baht this year alone to keep her healthy eating up a large chunk of my savings in the process.
Shouldn’t health care be free?
If my mom dies and I”m left truly alone on this planet , I think I’m done guys. I spent nearly another 1/4 of a million last year renovating her home so that it’s safe from the flood waters that had submerged a part of it every year. It even has some nice modern amenities for her to enjoy and now she lives in a hospital room.
Anyways, I should stop typing, my fingers are cramping up.
Not just from typing, but more so from the tickle session I had last night that was just two hours of sheer tickle torture. My fingers look like the wicked witch of the west today all cramped up and crooked, just from that session.
You wouldn’t think it, but tickle sessions are one of the hardest to do.
When you hear someone laugh, it’s funny right?
But have you ever sat at a dinner table and had to listen to somebody laugh constantly , so much so that it was so over the top it annoyed you?
Ok well, imagine that feeling escalating and escalating until it sounds like fingernails screeching down a blackboard at school. That’s how a tickle session sounds in my mind by the last ten minutes.
After he left I loaded up Netflix and watched the scariest damn movie I could find just so I could feel as far away from laughing as possible. Ended up watching The Witch. *clap clap by the way for that movie, especially the ending.
Luckily for me I had Thai subtitles to help me through the period dialogue it was set in , which made it truly an amazing of film to watch.
That’s it guys. You’re up to speed on my current thoughts about things.
Just had my 10pm cancel which leaves my 7pm about to arrive shortly. Good ol’ trampling session. Time to set up balloons between his balls and dick and smash away with my high heel shoes on. Beats whatever you’re doing for your evening doesn’t it? haha.
xx
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Let’s talk a little bit about the USA’s war on “sex trafficking” (re: Untaxable Revenue) and how the two storm bow arrows shot through the heart of first Backpage and most recently Craigslist will affect myself and the Female Domination / BDSM community.
First … What a cunt move by the cuntiest country in the world.
They care as much about stopping sex trafficking as lactose intolerant people care about spinach, let’s be real. But what’s done is done so where does that leave me?
I feel , umm , nervous kind of – like things just got real weird and I’m standing alone. Kind of like when you’re in an elevator not paying attention and when the door opens you step off but it’s not your floor. Then you realise it’s not your floor and try to act cool about it but not cool enough that the people in the elevator all know you got off on the wrong floor and are holding the door open button saying “do you want to come back in?”
“Nah, I’m good. This is where I want to be , sub basement level , yup this is me. I’m good. You guys go on up.”
Then the door closes and you’re alone on a floor that gets visited by the night janitor once a year … that’s how I feel right now with regards to the bdsm femdom world. Alone.
It’s not that I used Backpage or Craigslist all that much. I had an ad up on Backpage that to me was really just a back link to help my Google page rating , and I’d play the role of a dude on Craigslist sometimes by ‘helping a brother out’ anytime I saw an ad that said “Looking for a Dominant Woman to Make Me Her Bitch.”
I’d be on his reply list faster than cheese on broccoli , “dude, jaa4u.com man , that’s all I have to say bro, you can thank me later.”
Petty, I know. But it worked. And don’t look at me like that , I stole the final exam for Grade 11 Chemistry ok , so stalking Craigslist as a dude was nothing … NOTHING I say. I’ve done worse.
But it’s like not being asked to dance at prom and scanning the remaining dudes who are wall flowers , there’s not much to choose from. What remains in our online community for hook ups , FetLife? Ya I have a profile there , created in the Mesozoic Era. That site runs about as smoothly as a Russian economy car so fuck that. Max Fisch? He’s turned me down more time’s than a fat kid’s turned down carrots , but I’ll try again. Maybe if you guys all tried to make a jaa4u.com profile on his site one would actually get noticed by him.
My point is , there’s no place to hang out and check out ads anymore. It’s like every classified section in every newspaper around the world has been suddenly discontinued. Hugh Grant is horrified no doubt.
Luckily jaa4u has been around for about a decade and I have about 700 stories that people can read through, so I”m gonna be fine.
But, I feel like the game is changing.
I feel like there’s going to be a rush to get a website established by every frugal Mistress out there who was using free ads from those two websites to cut out a niche for themselves.
Only two things in life motivate people to action : inspiration or desperation , so I’m going to nip procrastination in the butt and start churning out all sorts of different content. I’d rather be driven by inspiration.
So I finally got my Amazon Kindle Author site established , and am about to produce my first of what hopefully will be many BDSM Novellas via Kindle. That’s the way I want to go really. It’s the harder road for sure , but if it works out it’d be the more rewarding one. I’d rather be known as the Mistress who put out the best female domination stories ever than the Mistress who flaunted her pussy getting fucked every day on Twitter … which is pretty much how every mistress who has 60K followers gets popular.
I’ve always been about art and intelligence. I truly think that in the end the man of my dreams will discover me based on those qualities alone, and if it doesn’t happen well that’s life I guess. At least I can then say I went out on my own shield.
Wael (Tia) is gonna be writing a lot more too , I might regret that but not as much as somebody who gets an ass tattoo written in Aramaic so I’m good with whatever yarn she spins.
Quantity over quality , that’s my new motto. Fuck quality. If I have to video my pubes getting trimmed for the sake of quantity then that’s what you’re getting. Pubic hairs are not off limits , I’m tellin’ ya that right now, so god forbid a slow day comes around and I’m sitting at home pondering how insanely long my cunt hair is.
Thanks USA , you’ve done yeoman’s work on curbing sex trafficking , good job. Please go back to murdering people in economically deprived countries, you’re much better at killing than you are at regulating the sex industry. But hey, a big Roger Ebert thumbs up for trying.
xx
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I am having a party May 23rd to celebrate the end of my 3 years in Bankruptcy. For me it is Freedom Day.
I made a big mistake a long time ago to marry. I was young and very broke and alone. I just moved to the capital after university because there were a lot of jobs for chef here. I lived in an awful small room. Just a little bit bigger than my body and not really room enough for my things.
Really I had no idea about life outside my little house in the country up north. All my life I knew only two places school and home.
Slept with the first man I met. I thought that was love.
I made the mistake to marry to him. I made the mistake to buy a house with him. I made the mistake to be pregnant from him.
But the biggest mistake I made was to stay with him.
He hit me every day. He burned my pussy with a cigarette. He pulled me by my hair around the house sometime. He threw me into the wall when he was mad.
He was mad always because he was broke. All the money from my chef job he take from me to buy alcohol and smoke. Then he stop to pay for the house every month and never let me pay. If I try to keep the money from him he try to hurt me very much. Then we lose the house to the court and the court put me to bankruptcy.
Finally I ran away back to my home and divorce him forever.
I really thought my life was over. They took my bank account from me. Took my passport. I tried to work at my chef job at the hotel but the court take 50% all my money. I made only 300 baht every day and after the court would take the money I had only 150 every day or US $5. Just cannot live in this city with only 150 every day so I had to go home.
But home was not option for me for very long because I had 2 daughter from him and nobody in my family can working.
My mom and my dad is old. My sister has down syndrome. So it is my responsibility to take care of everybody or they die.
My ex husband would come to find me there so I wanted to hide from him in Bangkok again.
When I came to Bangkok second time the only job I can do then was massage because they pay in cash. I really hated to do massage to other people’s feet. I hated to live in fear. I hated to live shy. I hated to be scared of men from how often I got hit before. I hated the most to work all day for massage and sometimes make 100 baht because I fail my family.
What I want to say to you is this job changed my life.
It changed who I am completely.
My first 3 years I was only a Tease & Denial professional. That was ok because in one session I made 4,000 … the same I made all month at massage. I moved from my small room to my condo here. I thought I moved to a palace. It felt so big here first day.
I found I love to control men and make them happy.
The more I did Tease & Denial the more I would slowly add BDSM and Female Domination. Not a lot. Just try some things and learn if he like it or not.
The more I became a mistress … the more I hated my ex husband.
I promise to myself I will never talk to a Thai man again in my life. I will never marry a Thai man again in my life.
I start this year to really enjoy who I am. I love to be Mistress Wael.
I don’t even know what Wael means. It is my nickname from my mom give me but I don’t like it. I want to change it soon to Tia. Do you like the name Mistress Tia? I like the sound. Wael sounds like Whale … and I don’t look like a Whale lol.
“Jaa” (hate that name more) asked me if I will go back to be a chef May 23rd when I get out of Bankruptcy and have a bank account again.
No.
I love to be a mistress too much. It is too much fun.
I feel I am just starting to get very good. Every day I practice and improve. I am not shy about my English now. I am not shy to control anybody and I have a lot of technique that is my personal style. I want to improve that style every day.
To me that is a shock. I love to cook.
But I value myself more than 300 baht / day.
I opened my eyes a lot to the trap my country put me in and I will never go back to be a slave for money.
First thing I will do on May 23 is to go get my passport again.
It is time I go visit outside my country. I want to see what the world looks like. I want to be able to compare better my country to other place in the world.
But one thing I know for sure.
I cannot compare my life before to my life now. I look at my freedom May 23rd as the start of my new life. Reborn as Mistress Tia.
tia (Wael) xx
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Netflix Tease & Denial sessions with me, Mistress Wael.
You have to not cum until the final credits of the movie. You are not allowed to interrupt the movie with moaning because it annoys me. Your job is to be silent and let me watch the film.
If you make a noise, your balls get spanked.
If you cum before the movie is finished then I will do painful Cock & Ball Torture instead until the movie is finished.
It is your responsibility to pull your cock away from my hand if you are about to cum. The safety of your balls depends on you doing so.
I don’t expect you to last the whole movie. Nobody does.
But it’s up to you to decide how much CBT you want to subject yourself to by letting yourself orgasm to relive the madness.
I don’t care about your emotion. I love you are suffering actually. So I will ignore you until the movie is finished.
IF you make it to the end , then I will finish you spectacularly.
The trick is to make your cock soft. I know how to massage your dick to make it soft and be horny at the same time. It’s very hard to cum when you are soft. So it feels extra frustrating to be horny and soft because your brain is sure you will never cum.
Today Adam survived longer than anybody before him. He blew his load at 1:48 into the Netflix movie ‘Knocked Up’ and only had to suffer 20 minutes of CBT for punishment. You can watch the last 7 minutes of his tease here and notice he did not make a sound when he came.
Netflix Tease & Denial | Black Mirror | 1:41 minutes
Netflix Tease & Denial | Joe Rogan | :49 minutes
I don’t know why but laughing at a comedy movie makes men cum easier. Nobody chose horror yet thank goodness. I probably would pull your dick off when a see a jump scare.
Netflix has how many movies? 1000? More?
I want to test every movie with a Netflix Tease & Denial session … for research 🙂
wael
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I’m going to tell you the most bastardy thing about this job as a Mistress , which is : It makes me care very deeply about people I shouldn’t care about , because when worst comes to worst , I cannot contact them.
Let me tell you what’s going on right now in my little insignificant world. Yesterday after a late night session I was doing the laundry as I always do and was carrying this big beige laundry basket back to my condo from the elevator. I set it down on the kitchen counter rather than taking it straight to my bedroom because it was overflowing with bed sheets rendering it quite heavy on my tiny little she-muscles that I have as biceps.
During the time the clothes were in the wash I had been cleaning the toys we used in the kitchen sink , and to make room for doing that I put the couple of dishes I had used that day on the counter over to the side. So when I put the laundry basket down I happened to set it down on an unwashed kitchen knife.
Said knife slips off the counter and plummets like an icicle towards the floor and slices right through my ankle making a very long quarter inch deep incision on the way down.
I didn’t immediately see the depth of the incision because there were copious amounts of blood oozing onto the floor. My first thought was, “wow that’s an excessive amount of blood” like, in a humorous way. Though I was alone at the time at nearly 2am , I made the connection to the movie Psycho and said aloud, “Mother, oh god Mother … blood.” Then I followed that thought up with “ya, I might die from that if I don’t take action.”
Before tying a white (now red) t-shirt around the gash like a tourniquet I called Wael to hurry over. Then I sat. And sat. And sat. All the while thinking that I maybe should go downstairs to the lobby but that the trail of blood I’d leave behind would not only be gross , but I’d have to pay for any stains left behind no doubt. Thereabouts, while bleeding out sitting on the floor near the door, that mind numbing, shrieking, shrilling pain one gets after such an injury started to manifest in my brain. This whole introspection of my self began, with how fragile we are as a species that one simple cut can do us in , and fuck me if I die sitting in a pool of my own blood without ever having found the meaning behind my dream of me on that mountain surrounded by little tiny angels throwing dill pickles at me.
… and with that , my proposed knife juggling career comes to a premature end. pic.twitter.com/eS1JGbrD0x
It wasn’t until Wael and I reached the hospital that it hit me like a tidal wave.
There’s a guy who sees me regularly , doesn’t send money or anything corny like that , but over the years we’ve interacted with about 10,000 emails to one another. It’s been going on like this for over half a decade now, but his health has been deteriorating. Nonetheless, nary has there been a day where we haven’t sent each other something funny , or I’ve cussed him out for being who I think he could be … a better version of himself. ‘Til these past two weeks where he disappeared completely after going to the hospital.
Except, he’s married. As most my “clients” (re: friends) are.
And thus, there is no way I can phone him, write him, visit him. Had he died (he hasn’t), there would be no way for me to know.
Thing is, I have over the past decade, silently bid farewell to more than ten friends like that , never really knowing what happened to them but always in the back of my mind having them categorised as “presumed dead.”
Being a mistress, at it’s core, means nothing more than bringing happiness to somebody who’s unsatisfied with something in his life and sees me as a release. Sometimes, when there’s a connection as oft happens between a man and a woman, the relationship between a man and his mistress evolves into something more, something spiritual. I dunno, there’s probably a better word than spiritual , but you know what I’m getting at right? It’s a friendship , but not really a friendship is it? Like a secret friend. I’m the greatest thing in some people’s lives , yet a thing they can’t let anybody know about.
The god awful thing about that is that once you stop seeing me as a mistress who writes this ‘scary’ blog and know the girl behind the curtain , I’m just the frail old wizard from The Wizard of Oz , a vulnerable girl who has genuine concern and care for the people I meet. After all , you guys are the only people I talk to in my life. I have no Thai friends, not a single one. Sometimes I look forward to my 7pm session so much because other than my fitness trainer whom I see every afternoon, that person at 7pm will be the first person I’ve spoken to since the previous day at that time. There’s really no other reason I go to the gym every single day without fail , I need someone to talk to.
I suppose my greatest curse is that I care too much about the guys I see. I know that I’m supposed to be like a doctor and be removed emotionally from whom I’m seeing day in and day out, but it’s difficult.
One rule that I follow to a fault comes from Dale Carnegie’s famous book , in which he gives a simple key to life … show genuine interest in the other person. Following that bit of advice pays off endlessly and is perhaps the single greatest reason I’m so successful, and in the same thought, is the single greatest reason I’m so alone.
Normally, when you give somebody a genuine ear that listens to their life stories it gets paid back in kind , over time.
But while being genuine is crystal clear on my side, it’s quite a bit foggy when it bounces back , and that’s all due to the obscurity of our relationship with one another.
Think of your life as if you have a thousand friends, and then as if you have suddenly woken from a dream, they vanish into smoke leaving you with the stark reality that in fact , you are alone. That’s me , toda la vida.
Jaa, original Jaa I’m speaking of , had a similar life long friend Matthew whom she emailed every day. He would take her fishing at this fish farm in Bangkok every time he passed through town and on that pier he’d share his deepest inner most feelings with her a few times a year … and she’d share the same in return. They never slept with one another over the decade they spent together, never kissed, never loved, but they had a bond which was adorable to see from a distance.
Then suddenly, he was gone.
On her birthday some years ago as he did every year he sent her flowers from the USA and a small Amazon Gift card with the note “go buy yourself something nice, something special, because you are indeed that. See you soon my mistress.” That was the last she ever heard from him , and it crushed her. Secretly, between you and me, I think that’s the reason she retired. Like I told you before, this job as a mistress can make one feel very alone and we all need somebody to ground us , for her Matthew was that guy.
I felt I almost lost that guy this week, and sitting there in the doctor’s room where they stitched my ankle up I was thinking both of Matthew and of my guy Brad … and of Isaac , and Tom, and Thomas , and James.
Isaac probably passed away, he was over 80, but loved flirting with me, it was so cute. I loved his love for life. The rest, I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.
My dad died like this , maybe this is his way of punishing me for not being there for him.
When I was all alone oversees in school with no friends yet , I’d write to him every day and his emails would make me smile once a day, it was a given. No matter how alone I felt over there , how lost, I could always count on him to say something that would touch me, the way only he could. Then, one day in June he just didn’t reply. The more I’d write him after that day the more it would depress me as the list of no replied to emails would get longer and longer. I would go back every night and re-read almost all of our conversations from the day I arrived until his last response and one line stood out in my head more than anything else he ever said. “Whatever you might face over there, you can get through it, no matter how hard, and I’ll always be here waiting for you when you get back.”
Except , you weren’t.
You were the ‘whatever’ , and I pushed through it , I’m still pushing through it. For you.
I see though that this is my burden to carry on my shoulders until the day I finally pass away too , that nobody will ever be there waiting for me. So when I write that the older I get , the less I care ; I guess what I really should say is “the older I get , the more it hurts , but I act like I don’t care so it won’t hurt as much.”
But it does.
xx
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Apparently I talk like a man. 20 first dates this month have told me so.
No not deep like Barry White , which is a pity because a voice like that would come in handy if we ever trade in Songkran for Whacking Day. We do have a lot of snakes in this country so ya never know, could happen.
If whacking day ever does come, rest assured : I will be useless because I do in fact have a sweet girls voice.
It’s my tongue they’re referring to. See, all these first dates would rather see my tongue wrapped around their cock but instead it tosses challenges and insults like two 70’s Miami cocaine dealers in the back room of a peeler joint. The seedy kind of place where you go down two steps when you enter: physically and socially , that’d be my hanging out place if I was an American. Now take the kind of girl who would indeed hang out in a place like that and transplant her here in Bangkok. Sit her down at a yum-yum-cheap-cheap fake steak restaurant where she’s eye to eye with a guy looking to pay for a cheap meal in exchange for a good lay an hour later … and you have the recipe for trouble.
“Who knew in a city of pearls I’d find a diamond” was the last guy’s opening line as I met him in the 2 star restaurant he had picked out.
“First, it’s a city of cockroaches, and secondly – really? You borrow from Murray Head , and that’s your opening line?”
“Well I think Bangkok is beautiful.”
“It’s the cesspool of humanity and if you think it’s beautiful you’re either a fucking idiot or you’re stupid as fuck.”
This is where I am with men right now, I’m so fucking dismissive , just the slightest hint of insincerity or that he’s 11 eggs short of a dozen upstairs and he gets full access to the cunt side of me. My last BDSM session lasted exactly 5 minutes before I showed him the door. Shows up with alcohol on his breath , what kind of a feeble mouse needs the crutch of a few drinks just to show up at my door.
There are no men of integrity in Bangkok.
Or if there are, I sure as hell haven’t met one , god knows I’ve tried.
20 times I tried this month.
I wanted to expand on my Mistress’s Boyfriend experiment but with unsuspecting guys , one’s who had no idea of what I do and what my personality is like as a mistress. What I found was quite simple , the collective cunts of this city give up their pussy faster than a fat kid gives up broccoli , and in doing so have created a truism that a five buck meal gets you laid here.
So, what I found was that no matter how much I try to impose my personality upon the date it does nothing but get confrontational. I’m not being a bitch either, I’m just opinionated but that’s the last thing a guy is looking for from a Tinder date.
What’s funny is that nearly all of these guys have conversation patterns that they no doubt use on every date because it works for them. They break out the same innocent “i’m just learning Thai” jokes and will say something cute like “you same same like me” or similar.
Like, two weekends ago this guy took me out for street food dinner … I shit you not … and throughout the most excruciatingly painful 30 minutes of dinner conversation I’ve ever endured he broke out the saying “you naa-rak” (cute) 23 times. Yes I counted. He’d drop it at a pace of once a minute like he was on a conversation timer.
It’s not fresh in my mind but for example one snippet of conversation with him went something like this :
I started off by saying “what?” because he was just looking all over my face like he was trying to play “Find Waldo” on it.
“Oh nothing, just , wow, your hair.”
I took a sample of it in my hand to make sure it wasn’t on fire or anything and looked back at him “what about it?”
“Makes you look so .. so … Naa Rak.”
“My hair makes me look naa rak huh?”
“Yes, naa rak jing jing. Can I feel it?”
“You want to feel my hair … now? … here?”
“No you’re right, later then” and he winks at me. (*must … resist … urge … to … tear … his … eyeballs … out)
Then the Mom who runs the little food stall comes over to take our order. I grab the menu and order 2 main dishes, 3 side dishes , a dessert , a water, a coke and tell her to go fetch 4 Bacardi coolers. Figured I’d rack up 500 baht for my side of the bill as he no doubt thought he was getting away with 100 baht for the dinner.
“Wow hungry huh?”
“Ya, haven’t eaten all day.”
“That’s why you’re so thin , so sexy , so Naa Rak”
His words began to sound like fingers on a blackboard at school.
Anyways it was about this time that the food came and it was about the 4th or 5th failed date in a row , so I got in the mind set that I’d just eat for free this month. At that moment I totally gave up in men and decided to fuck with them a bit. Like, I knew that every single date was going to be like this , and hey – if I got a guy who I could spin my FemDom magic on then great, and if not … free food!!
But, I got wise and chose the restaurant every time every time after that.
Let me tell you , when going on a “cheap dinner, free sex” date, there is NOTHING more pleasureful than looking at the guy’s eyes when he holds up the menu and sees Entre’s starting at 800 baht. Then seeing him noticeably gulp when I order New York Sirloin Steak , ah priceless.
While those two expressions are indeed priceless , the coup de gras is walking them to the curb , hailing a taxi , letting him get in first and …sending him on his way while I wave goodbye and thank him for the wonderful meal.
20 dudes. 18 have since blocked me or left the conversation on my app … usually right after I text them “sorry, whacking day cancelled.”
xx
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Ballbusting , if you’ve had it done to you , in all likelihood it’s been done incorrectly.
Too many mistresses look at ballbusting as a way of extracting maximum pain from a man in minimum time, before casting him aside like a spent torch.
If they only knew the one truth about testicles , a secret that men keep locked up as tight as a bowstring. Which is?
The fear of pain is far greater than the deliverance of such.
That fear can be harvested , strained , and aged like a fine wine, and therein lays the true pleasure of such a session.
Interestingly, I came upon this revelation quite by accident. It was about two years ago when I was carrying out this “endless love tap” version of ballbusting on my bed , back then I was relatively new to this type of request as they come few and far between. I might do 100 Tease & Denial sessions before one committed man will ask me to assault his balls for such a session , so the learning curve is quite prolonged. It’s important you know that , I don’t want you to have a vision of me as some depraved nut seeking mistress who clippity clops down my street like a horse looking for a pair of gonads to hoof on the daily.
So there I was on the bed with that dude , and I found myself getting terribly annoyed. The whimpering, the begging , it was all a bit much. I mean after all , the guy had requested I torture his balls like this , so to me it’s like asking Mom for cookies and crying each time she hands you one. To give him incentive I asked him just how much he wanted to see my small breast exposed as we continued along with the session and he replied “immensely so.” Thus I told him (really just to quiet him up) that for every 10 love taps he survived in complete silence , I’d in turn slide my lingerie an inch down my cleavage.
It worked. For about 100 consecutive taps he bit his lip in absolute silence as I baby tapped his testicles until he was dizzily nauseous.
Voila! – I let my boob slip out after the 100th as per our agreement but then on the very next kick the whining began anew. It was as if he had forced himself to climb to the summit of an unassailable mountain and had exhausted himself in the process. Because at that moment he turned away from me and began doggy crawling towards the end of the bed.
As he did so I remember laughing at his balls so small and tight jiggling back and forth as he crawled away whimpering. Then I caught myself , because back then I was much more naive and would let men do things without asking me first sans punishment. It took a moment to register in my brain that the guy was escaping without permission and you know how you can make a “come here” gesture with your finger ? … well I wanted to hook him like that with my foot and drag him back towards me with a similar ‘come here’ motion with my toes.
Except, he was just barely out of reach and upon a second, much harder type kick from my leg to reach him – I inadvertently grazed his testicle with considerable force. Like a narrowly averted car collision I felt my toe brush against the skin of his balls in passing. But to my surprise, just as my leg fell down at full reach and hit my mattress , the guy tossed himself off the foot of my bed like he was propelling himself from the top of a skyscraper.
The plunge was less dramatic of course, he landed with a thump on the wooden floor an instant later and began making the same noise pigs make when being led to the slaughter house.
I honestly thought he was play acting for there was no contact whatsoever with his scrotum , but then he began spewing up sticky saliva on the floorboards making him eventually look like the android Ash from the movie Alien.
“What the fuck dude?” was all I could muster.
And after some considerable time had passed he collected himself and barked over his shoulder at me “you can’t hit a guy on the bottom of his balls that hard!”
“Why?” I was truly dumbfounded.
“Because it’s the most sensitive part, even if you just brush them and miss the pain is sickening.”
Then he went on and on about how he told me to not hit him hard , and that he doesn’t like pain , yada yada yada. To which I thought , well fuck dude – showing up to a ballbusting session if one doesn’t like pain is like sitting down for an Italian wedding if one doesn’t like food. But then later that night it hit me , like at about 5:50 am. Light from the first crack of dawn peeped in through my curtains and whispered into my ear the secret of secrets that would change my ballbusting sessions forever, “you don’t actually have to hit the balls to inflict pain.”
So if we go back to my Alien reference , a movie we’ve all seen countless times yes? How long was it before we saw the full sized horrific Alien? Quite near the end of the show right? The thought of what it might look like, how big it might be, manifested in our heads for over an hour, and that’s what has made that movie stand the test of time. Bringing that back to ballbusting, just as the anticipation of seeing the creature can make a movie infinitely more scary, the anticipation of being kicked in the nards is infinitely worse than being hit itself.
Well maybe not infinitely, but that anticipation has made my ballbusting sessions a hell to survive , even if the actual kick count is probably 10 times less than any other mistress doles out in a similar amount of time. But I’d argue that my sessions are an Event Horizon type of experience, in that it takes you to a place nobody’s ever gone before.
How exactly do I accomplish such a journey of the mind you’re asking?
The first thing we do differently is that Mistress Wael and I turn the person around so that he is facing away from us.
For what reason? Well the mind won’t just let me or Mistress Wael walk up and kick the testicles without a self preservation response. Their eyes will flinch, the body will tighten and there will be either a rise to the tip toes or a clear out jump in the air to lessen the impact.
That’s why you can watch ballbusting videos where the guy can take considerable punishment and you wonder just how the man can withstand such a frontal assault. Because it’s exactly that – a frontal assault.
But turn the man around and now the imagination of horror begins to take over the mind.
Begins.
Important word that is.
Christmas is much better when you let the kids open the tinniest of presents first and slow time down so it feels like forever before they get to the biggest gift under the tree. (I assume. I’ve never hosted a Christmas seeing as though we don’t celebrate it here, but that’s what I’d do if I was a mom.)
The simple act of turning him around and fussing with his hand restraints , or standing behind him and deciding upon the appropriate footwear heightens the forthcoming moment. I like to let it sit there and stew in his mind for a bit.
Then, and here’s the Tabasco sauce added to the recipe , Wael and I will force the guy to stand with his knees flailed outwards. If we’re doing the session together, I’ll let her string his hands up above him so that he’s suspended and can’t collapse to the ground later on. While I’ll put an object – currently we’re using a 2×4 wood block , between the legs to keep them apart.
Try it. Just for hoots, put yourself in the same position that Mistress Wael has put her guy on the balcony before her last ballbusting session pictured below …
She goes the extra mile with her sessions in that she’ll dress the guy up in sexy woman’s lingerie from the waist up – because the condo across the car park can see quite clearly to her balcony and she’ll humiliate him publicly by dressing him up like that.
Difference between her and I being that she’ll gag the guy tightly so he can’t scream bloody murder to alert the neighbourhood when her foot lands flush , whereas I like to hear the guy cry freely, so no gags from me if you’re coming here.
Squirming in your chair yet? Chill, it gets worse.
Usually with a Tease & Denial session , the type we do 99% of the time , there is a certain rush against time. There’s a seduction element that takes time to brew and take full effect, and the teasing needs to build to a crescendo which takes time, so we’re always managing the two hours in our minds.
With ballbusting , the guy usually wants out after 10 minutes. I mean, we’ve had a few troopers who hold out for an hour or so , but that’s back when we were kicking from the front. Since we’ve implemented this blind side ballbusting routine, nobody as of yet has lasted beyond a handful of actual strikes.
So knowing we’re going to have a lot of time on our hands , quite simply we’ll use that time to let the guy sit and wait in suspense.
Because once the guy is strung up on her balcony , or tied spread eagle up against my sofa here , he ain’t going anywhere anytime soon. So we’ll just leave him like that. Let him wonder what’s going on. In fact, we’ll catch quite a few guys cheating on the position and opting to bring the knees back to a normal position from being flailed apart and we can get in a few free ass spankings for that.
Eyes forward bitch. There’s no looking back over the shoulder allowed and if they do , they get blindfolded. And so there they stand for minutes at a time , perhaps even a whole half hour.
One thing about being a mistress that you guys might not recognise as being totally foreign is that we’re fine with wasting time. It’s nothing to us to leave a guy hog tied naked in the living room and go shopping for an afternoon. For the mistress girlfriend sessions I’ll often dress my boy up as a maid and leave him a long list of things to get done while I go out and watch a movie and / or go for a massage, only to return hours later when it’s dark out. We use men at our whim , it’s just how it is. So leaving a guy strung up with his knees apart for a good hour is a pittance of time.
Then ; whack !!!
Out of nowhere, the house will shriek in pain in sympathy with the guy who’s balls we’ve just stealth kicked.
For the pain is ungodly.
That’s why , as a rule of caution , at Wael’s condo the guy’s head must be below the level of the railing for they’ll just collapse forward near unconsciousness for a moment. Can’t have dudes plummeting to their death every day , so – safety first 🙂
Now depending on my mood, and certainly with Mistress Wael as well , we’ll either let the guy recollect himself slowly and begin the process anew , or , (especially if he’s cute) we’ll come up behind him and play good cop / bad cop by cuddling him from behind and cupping his throbbing balls and playing with his cock for a bit. Just enough to get him hard – and we’ll leave him alone again.
Believe me, the passage of time between the first hit and the second hit is eternal for him. Those are the moments where it clearly registers in his mind just what he’s signed up for. Even the odd guy who has boasted he’s withstood countless ballbusting sessions with “Mistress So And So , the evilest woman be-known to man” – they’ll shiver in those moments after the first kick from either of us has been delivered.
The second kick , the onus is on us to ensure that force and speed of the blow is much much harder than the first.
Usually about thirty minutes have passed by the time the second strike has been delivered and it’s our experience that nearly all guys resort to their safe word at that moment. That’s where the real work begins. It’s a fascinating study really. The amount of over ride a girl can do on a guy’s mind just by playing with his cock and making him hard – it’s mind blowing. For us it’s a power trip like none other. Like, I know and he knows that the next kick is going to be near lethal, but once he looks down and sees my hands on his dick and feels me talking into his ear as he lays there crumbled on his knees – he will rise just like bread in the oven. Every … single … time.
Now, at about this point, most guys have to be blindfolded. And why? (i need a ballbusting blindfold by the way. specially made one for my ballbusting sessions. I’ll explain later.)
Simple. They’ll all begin looking over their shoulder because we’ve taught all the boys that the void of anticipation is indeed endless. They want to know when the next ballbusting kick is in flight , and we’ll deny them that by covering their eyes.
It’s hard not to giggle really. The man is standing there blindfolded with a rock hard dick and shattered balls realising I’ve goaded him into another ballbusting round ticket to hell and back. At that moment he is quite at odds with his cock , for it is his dick that has agreed to such pain once again and not him.
Sound , at this point of the session, sound alone can bring a man to his knees in a mighty mess of whimpering mush. Wael will put on her high heel shoes and go stand by the bathroom for a while , then she’ll clack her heels hard on the ground so he can hear the force of her menacing march toward him and she’ll grunt just behind his ear like she’s about to kick his balls clear across to the other building over yonder – and the guy will nearly rip his suspended arms off collapsing to the floor at the sound cue of her false kick.
Me? I’ll either plant the seed early that I giggle just before I kick , and use that giggle to get him to collapse similarly. Or, I’ll “accidentally” miss my kick and hit his ass instead , then draw back to reload , angry that I missed. He’ll sense that anger – and again collapse.
By the time the one hour mark has rolled around , we’ll have fucked with the person’s mind so much that they’ll be chanting their safe word endlessly like a mantra.
Which, is one million times better to hear than somebody saying “thank you mistress, thank you mistress” to the 100th , and 101st kick in succession. That’s failure. Yet that’s what most all mistresses and their slaves see as acceptable. Sad.
Now I realise pretty much none of you guys would ever dream of coming to see Wael or I for such a ballbusting session. I don’t blame you. Tease & Seduction is so much more desirable for the sane 🙂 ballbusting is truly for the insane 😛
But look what I just did. I gave the .001% of guys who get turned on by this type of thing our whole playbook.
You now know exactly what’s going to happen in your ballbusting session , should you have the balls (pun intended) to show up.
And you’re stillnot going to last.
But you will truly know hell , that much I can guarantee.
xx
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