Category: blog

  • Banana = Monkey = The American Dream

    Banana = Monkey = The American Dream

    “Good Morning, it’s 7am , in conformity , there lays bliss.”

    Having lived in the city over the past five years , the past two in my quite luxurious condo , I hadn’t been jolted from my sleep by the blaring of the speakers that permeate the village where I grew up for quite some time.  Yet there it was, 7am right to the very second , the brain washing diatribe on my senses had begun each morning last week from the house where I grew up.

    For those of you who are unfamiliar with what goes on in every village across the land here , seven o’clock in the morning brings with it thirty minutes of community news being blared out from the speakers that adorn every pole along every side street and it’s nay unavoidable to listen to unless you were born deaf.  Buried among the endless notifications of when the medical clinic opens , and what day the night market is open , is the subtle message that it’s just fine and dandy to be poor , and that one should instead focus on finding happiness within one’s life.

    In our language, it’s called serakit bae plaw pliang , and it’s basically scripture , so until I’m living permanently in Europe I won’t be writing about it , else I put myself in danger of a forced lobotomy.

    As I sat there that morning looking for a distraction from the blaring of the speakers I was playing with my phone and found out that Donald Trump had been elected President of the United States.  Hey don’t say I didn’t tell you so , in fact , the first thing I said on my Twitter was this :

     

    of course the second thing I tweeted was a bit more of a smart ass comment :

     

     

    Because there it was , the fruition of The American Dream.  From reality show celebrity , to bankruptcy to President.  If you give ‘the people’ the power to choose whomever they want, then sure as hell that is what they will do.

    By contrast, where I live we are given a choice to vote for whatever fruit you want,  so long as it’s a banana.

    I sat there thinking what’s better, Trump or a banana?

    Truth is , they are one in the same.  Whether you sell it as a stimulant like the American’s do , or as a Barbiturate as it’s done here , it’s still horse manure all nicely packaged as a “dream”.  The only difference is that American’s get to dream rich but end up poor and in debt , while we are just handed poverty at the outset and told ‘hey be happy with it.’

    It doesn’t matter one bit that Donald Trump is president.  Fuck they could have elected a monkey , it wouldn’t change a thing about the course to come in the next four years.  Same goes for this part of the world I was cursed to be born in , as whatever banana we’re finally given to choose will bring about as much change ‘for the people’ as a monkey will in the USA.

    And why?

    I’ll let George Carlin explain why :

     

     

     

    The profession of campaigning is broken.

    The electoral process is broken.

    The very notion of governance is flawed.

    It’s antiquated.  It’s self-serving.

    A system who’s roots come from the prehistoric days where we lived in an oral-aural society , one that chooses the ‘wise man’ of the village to lead them , and we’ve kept that system where one great all knowing all wise person is chosen to lead hundreds of millions.  What bullshit.

    I care not a thought for the monkey or the banana , but instead for myself.

    My vote is such:  Live like a rogue.  Get rich.  Then get the fuck out and leave the monkeys and bananas behind.  Therein lays MY bliss.

    xx

     

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  • A Very Long Rope

    A Very Long Rope

    Hate is such a vicious vile word , with sheer wanton maliciousness behind every instance it is spoken.  Thus, it must be used not liberally, but instead preciously saved for a deserved target of one’s venom.  In my life, there has been no greater thing that commands me to use the word Hate as its descriptor than that of the word School and all the maladies that word encompasses.

    I was recently asked in an email “how can your English be so good , you’re Thai.”

    He took the philosophical pretense of “I speak, therefore I am” , flipped it on it’s head so it would become “I’m Thai, therefore I am not.”

    I hate that.

    Thing is , he’s right.  In thinking of how to reply to him I wanted not to argue but instead to validate his point with reason, show proof of that reasoning, and show him what extraordinary measures it took to slip out of the societal mainstream and set myself up in an environment where I could succeed despite the moniker of being labelled “Thai.”

    I, like all Thai’s, was set up to fail from my first day in school.  And please, let’s not call it school but rather let’s call it what it really was , purgatory.  Borrowing from the Christian definition then, it was a place of purification (brain washing), so as to achieve the holiness (lobotomy) necessary to enter the joy of heaven (factory work).

    The rich are self-serving, and in countries such as mine where they are allowed to dictate policy, school is but a trap.  I had a teacher one time, back when I studied abroad, who began his first lecture by putting a rope on the table before him.  A big burly Russian man with a full grey beard – about to teach a semester of Creative Writing – said “Before you is a rope, a rope of opportunity.  In my class you can either use it to climb to new heights , or you can use it to hang yourself, the choice is yours.

    Typical me, I stood up (I purposely stopped raising my hand in grade 5) and said before the class “in my country the rope comes with the noose already prepared, it’s nice to have an option now.”  Well actually, I had to use a lot of hand gestures and acting to get that point across because I had Seseme Street level English as a weapon though I had graduated with a major in English – but we’ll get to that in a moment.

    I had wanted to reply to that person’s email with this video.  For you, I don’t want you to watch the video, I want you to take it to heart.

     

     

    The proof is in the pudding.

    I was at Mistress Wael’s condo two days ago.  She was trying to get 500 cupcakes baked as an order for her newly started bakery business , and she needed me to make a few trips to bring them over to the hospital that ordered them.  Anyways, whilst I was there she got a call from her daughter on Skype and she picked up the call to find her ten year old daughter crying.  Wael who sees her daughter but once a year , while working in Bangkok so she can provide a “better life” for her daughter by sending her to a school that’s just above gov’t level , assumed her daughter was crying because they missed each other.

    What had happened though was that her daughter had been sent home from school with a disciplinary letter stating why her daughter had been spanked in front of the class that day.

    The infraction?

    Her child was caught listening to a YouTube song in English at lunch time.  One that Wael had sent the link for so that her daughter could practice her English as the song – Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” comes with lyrics.

     

     

    Let me translate for you one sentence in the note sent home with her daughter :

    “Listening to English is strongly discouraged and we are dismayed that your daughter chooses not to focus instead upon her Northern Thai language skills.”

    Harken back if you will to the point in the video I linked where he says children in school are discouraged from expressing their creativity, imagination, and critical thought.  I too rest my case.  The school system here should be on trial for the murder of imagination.

    Had that been my daughter (yes i’d love to have a cute daughter one day) I’d have sent a reply suggesting each school put up a McDonald’s like sign that says “Over 99 Billion Robots Created”.

    Sadly, the only available recourse of action that would save her daughter would be to enroll her in a foreign international school which comes with the lofty price tag of 250,000 for the privilege to think creatively in a society that forbids it.

    So how did I exclude myself enough from being Thai that allowed me to get a fair grip on the English language?

    I got the fuck out of here that’s what.

    After all, I had a degree in English from a prominent Thai University , I surely was prepared to study abroad right?  When Vladimir my Russian teacher of Creative Writing began his first lecture in that little foreign college , I remember looking to my left and then to my right before slumping in my chair and thinking “how is it possible I understand nothing of what this guy is saying?”

    bondage femdom jaa4u bdsm bangkok

    At the end of that first class as people were shuffling out of the smallish 100 seat lecture room I waited until the very last one had left before I stood up and saluted towards the ceiling.  Vlad caught sight of me doing so and asked simply “why?”

    “I was saying thank you … for nothing … to my country.”

    Again he asked only “why?”

    “I just realized my degree is useless.  I understand nothing you say.  I have no money.  I have no friends to talk with.  I have nothing.”

    “Not true” he said, pushing the thing on his desk in my direction.  “Now you have a rope” and he gave me a wink I’ll never forget before he sauntered out of the classroom with that to and fro wobble he walked with.

    I may have understood but 1% of anything he said that day , but I’m thankful I understood that 1% with such vivid clarity.  For it was that day that I began my climb, and now here I am today.

    I pondered for a bit on how to answer that person’s email , he being so nonchalantly condescending didn’t really deserve such an elaborate response.  So instead I simply replied :

    “I was fortunate to have been given a very long rope.”

     

    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]

     

  • 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 🙂

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Eating Shit |… Off the Menu

    Eating Shit |… Off the Menu

    “I want to eat your shit Mistress”

    To which I say, “I really don’t care what you want” and if you cannot understand the esoteric subtleties of why that is perhaps you belong where you are , curled up on your bed with one hand on your dick and your other hand on your mouse clicking from one Brazilian scat porn clip to another.

    Being under my ass is a privilege not a right, one that is earned slowly over time and is granted to you only after I have made you become so far in love with me that you have proven to do anything that I ask of you except the greatest show of devotion.  We may be laying on the bed with your head on my lap as my fingers run down around your hair to momentarily caress your chin before sliding up to your lips and as I press a grape into your mouth that you delightfully chew I lean over you and ask you “what else would you be willing to take into your mouth for me?”

     

    Oh I would do anything for love , but I won’t do that , no I won’t do that

    It comes at a point where sessions are not called sessions anymore, they are simply visits to the girl you cannot live without and one of those times the option will be given to you to walk out that door or show that you really would do anything to experience your Mistress.  Or maybe that moment will never come.  It’s not a decision that I make it’s a feeling that I act upon, a feeling inspired by chemistry between the submissive man in my lap and myself.

    eating shitLet me tell you what it is not however, for it is not something that you write me like you are ordering steak from a menu.  Consider it an off the menu item in an exclusive restaurant that you need frequent often in order to be shown the vip room where items like that would be considered being served.

    I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon explaining that over and over to the masses of people emailing me about that very same menu item.  In fact, I’ve answered that request so often the past few days that in my dreams last night I had opened a restaurant where people stood outside a massively large green door that when opened revealed only one table , a tiny one where you would lay down and rest your head upon only to look up at the distant ceiling and my much closer ass above your open mouth.  Somehow in that dream my ass was dispensing poo like it was spewing out Dairy Queen soft ice cream yet somehow it was infinitely more delicious.

    You see I don’t look at this as a job I look at it as an experience, one that must pleasure me as much as it pleasures you.  Your submissiveness brought you to me just as much as my natural dominant personality brought me to you , it should be a mutually beneficial experience.  Yes it should be an experience, not a list of items you tick off like you’re shopping at the supermarket.  Think to yourself, what are you bringing to the table?  Why should I even agree to see you in the first place?  If you mention your desire in passing like “i wouldn’t say no to more forceful ways to show my devotion to you” you are more likely to get me to note that in my calendar about you, whereas saying something blunt as if your family genealogy never evolved past caveman status :

    “Mistress.  I can eat shit?  You?  Yes?

    … will get you an answer like this from me…

    “Hey that’s amazing, you strung 7 words together this time instead of the usual 3.  That’s a 100% improvement, why by next month I’ll almost consider you for a session.  Almost.

    Submission is like falling into quicksand, you sink slowly into it.  Each request in a session is like one grain of sand covering you, almost unnoticeable until you are covered by me, tasting me, smelling me, desiring me … and it’s that sand covered thing that you’ve become that will submit to me in a “more forceful way” without any force at all really, nothing but the words “slide under my ass for me baby” are all that I need.

    How many get to hear those words?  Few if any.  The closest any of you ever got to understanding Chemistry was from watching Breaking Bad.  Maybe it was their body odor, the dirt in their fingernails, their bad breath, or the way they converse that did them in, but most work their way into my ‘meh’ list after the first session.  You see,  most guys are looking for sessions, i’m looking for someone I choose to go on a submissive experience with.  It’s a big difference.

    So yes, a 2 hour session with anything that involves my poo is indeed 15,000 baht.  The question is, what are you willing to do to be the 1% of guys who actually get the honor of paying that to me?  Are you the next Bud Fox?

    Jaa2 xx

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

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • bdsm wrestling fight | Who’s the bitch now?

    bdsm wrestling fight | Who’s the bitch now?

    After my second bdsm wrestling Fight of the week the score is Snowball’s Chance 2  Hell 0 .  Yes he had me pinned to the bed at one point (happens in every bdsm wrestling session at the start) … with my hands pressed against the headboard and his feet locked inside my legs i could feel his dick pushing into my underwear.  But with the point of the dagger pointed at my pussy I ripped it out of his control and killed the beast.  bdsm wrestling has a way of doing that to my victims haha.  But then again, it wouldn’t be bdsm wrestling without a complaint or two right away …

    “it’s not fair you grabbed my balls”

    bdsm wrestling with mistress pasaya bangkok Oh cry me a river.  I just used the balls to tilt the game in my favor.  I am not 6 foot tall and 80kg of muscle like him so I need to use whatever I can to win.  Luckily for me balls are attached to a cock and while pulling your nuts buys time for me … pulling your dick buys me a victory.  Well, if I can control myself that is.  Which brings me to a question that you probably never thought of …

    What do I do as a mistress when I feel myself getting hot for the guy while bdsm wrestling him?

    So i’m a Bangkok Mistress, just because i do bdsm wrestling does that mean i am immune to feeling turned on?  No not at all, it happens sometimes.  But what causes it?  What triggers it?  Is it your looks, or your personality, or your smell?  You would think that because that is what turns most girls on but it’s not what gets me at all.  For me playing with a man from the first time i meet him right up to the time I allow him to have sex with me is a power game.  Systematic larceny of a man’s heart, soul, and pride.  It’s like walking on the wall of the bear’s den at the zoo, a game where a wrong move lands me face to face with the beast which is not a bad thing if you know how to control the animal.

     

     

    Outside of bdsm wrestling my personality is always the same … aggressive, controlling, dominant …

    “Why do I keep letting you do this to me”

    “Do what?”

    “I can have any of these girls tonight if I sms them back” and my dinner date pushed his phone to my side of the table to show me his unanswered Line, Skype, and WhatsApp messages from his harem of girls wanting to be in the chair I was sitting in.

    “Really?  So why are you here with me?”

    “Because you’re the only girl I can’t get, and I know after this dinner i’ll get turned down for the next 100 times I ask you again.”

    “You didn’t ask me to come tonight, I told you to come.”

    “yes you always do, and I always have to cancel all my meetings to come see you.”

    “i’m not like any other girl you know babe.”

    “no you’re not.  not at all.” he says looking up and down my black dress wanting to figure out how to get inside it.  It’s not his choice if he gets inside it or not, it’s mine.  The dick chases the pussy on this planet, it’s the pussy’s fault if it doesn’t understand the inherent power behind that fact.  It’s two days away from the end of March or 90 days into the year and I have exactly 174 dinner invitations so far, I could eat free for the whole year at every best restaurant in the city if i wanted to.  Yet I am here writing this eating 30 baht street food after turning down invitation number 175 tonight.  Just that tonight’s bdsm wrestling session has my arms so sore … i’m eating like a penguin lol.

    I never go to dinner when you ask me.  You will come to dinner when I ask you.

    bdsm wrestlingThe same as you will never fuck me.  Your dick will get wet if that moment comes that I want to fuck you.  I am in control of every relationship from the first second to the last.  I’ve held that same (bdsm wrestling) bloody dagger in my hands time and time again after cutting my prey loose from my life.  No man has ever dropped me, just as a boot has no quarrel with an ant, the threats of the men being crushed under my foot are insignificant.  They’ll fight desperately to not believe it, but every man I have ever dated at dinner knows that within 30 minutes I could have another man sitting in that chair who is both richer, and more handsome than him.

    So where’s the weakness?  Ya exactly, bdsm wrestling makes me weak.  But a different kind of weak.

    Getting back to my original question, what happens when desire try’s to erode my power over the man?

    Being pinned under a guy in a bdsm wrestling fight, sweaty and slippery, with his cock pressing into my pussy through my panties is a moment that has the pounding feel of primal instinct built into the situation.  There are times that the feeling of a man expressing his physical power over me is ever so fucking hot … if it would lead to passionate sex.   Fortunately men fuck with the same primitive mind that got them to that power position on top of me in the first place, brute strength and lack of finesse.  You see it in not in the millions of porno clips online, but in the descriptions of said porno clips.

    Here’s one …

    Deep Orgasms For Teen
    Cute teen girl fingering her clitoris and cumming hard over and over again. Don´t you just want to ram your dick in from behind in this cute young moaning girl?

     

    Oh and here’s the first comment down below …

    Luke – 2 hours ago
    OMG I would love to do the exact same thing! Using her like the bitch she is!

     

    So underneath this guy yesterday i used my flexibility to get a foot out from his leg pin and put it over my head to try to roll out backwards but the headboard was stopping me.  He tried to pull me back under him but using his two hands to do that gave me the 1 second i needed to put my 5 nails into his balls and twist.  The big bad bdsm wrestling bear squeaked.  I got out from under him and all the way to the side while he tried with his other hand to get my nails out from his balls.

    He stopped trying when my second hand now finally free started to play with the top of his cock.  The bear started moaning and that one moment where I thought I might give in to him a second ago was gone … because the feeling of domination is so much more powerful.  The sweat from fighting had run down the inside of my thigh and i put that over his face and told him to suck the sweat clean off all my leg from my thigh to my foot.

    “Don’t you just want to ram your foot in to this cute moaning boy’s mouth?”

    yessss i do !!

    So to answer my own question, what do I do when I feel a moment of hotness for a guy in a session?  I think about the same thing the guy said above … “Using him like the bitch he is” is way more fun.

     

    Jaa  xx

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

     

     

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  • Mistress Jaa | Goddess Pasaya | What’s My Name?

    Mistress Jaa | Goddess Pasaya | What’s My Name?

    Am I Mistress Jaa?

    How come emails come to you addressed as Mistress Pasaya | jaa4u ?

    Who the hell is/was Goddess Khaleesa?

    What’s my real name, truly?

     

    Who knew that choosing a secondary name could be such a challenge?  I sure didn’t.

    Here’s what I knew back when I was original Mistress Jaa’s understudy so to speak , I definitely had to have my own name even back then when I was acting as her Mistress Trainee.

    Naively , I used my own name back then  – mostly because she was calling me for sessions so rarely that I never concerned myself with coming with unique name for myself.

    Then, once she retired and handed jaa4u over to me I had to come up with something.

     

    Pasaya in Thai is actually two words  … passaa (meaning language) and yaa (can mean drug or bitch, in this case – bitch)

    Put together it loosely translates to Mistress Bitch in English.

    Which at the time sounded like someone I thought I had to be … and anyways, it had a nice ring to it.

    so mistress.pasaya at gmail dot com was created, and all was going well until …

     

     

     

    I got attacked.

    A psychotic ex boyfriend from way back in the past – like when I was 19 and studying in Sydney – found me somehow.

    Since it’s in his nature to be a sexual predator  (he’s 50 & dates high school girls) it wasn’t much of a stretch for him to slander me all over social media , and even going so far as to call up my boss – back when I had a “real” job.

     

    In retrospect, it was a blessing in disguise.

    I had been putting my uncensored photos online and trusting myself to the general public.

    Shortly thereafter I was alerted to my head shot being used on countles dating sites , and I realized that I had to be more stealthy about how I presented myself.

    So I threw Mistress Pasaya to the garbage bin and reinvented myself as Goddess Khaleesa.

     

     

    Which led to instant mad confusion as every email began with “who is this, is this Jaa?  Pasaya?  Who is Khaleesa?

    It dawned upon me then – there’s no need to invent a new name.   It would lessen the confusion greatly if I just went by the name Mistress Jaa  – as it’s the name in the website’s URL anyways.

    And her legacy lasted 10 years … that’s a lot of customers who identify this website with a Mistress Jaa.

     

    Except, I knew Jaa so well that it felt strange ending my blog stories as Mistress Jaa.  It felt weird.

    But since I had taken all my photos down at the time, I was fully relying on the strength of my writing to display my personality , so what I wrote had to be exquisitly perfect.

    Signing off my blog stories as “Mistress Jaa” was affecting my writing.  Crazy huh?

    It’s because I’ve always written about what’s going on in my mind , my thoughts are pure, and they’re mine.

     

     

    Then, I just decided to use the branding of the website as Jaa , and sign off my blog stories only with an “xx” at the end.

    My first email reply would be the place I’d reveal my true name – followed by putting the name (Jaa) in brackets immediately after.

    And it worked !!

     

    From there I found a professional photographer who knew how to take perfectly disguised photos , which I used for a while – that was what I called the “sillhouette” era of me.

    And over time , I decided to just cut my photos off at the lips and leave everything from nose up to people’s imagination.

    Guess what?

    That drives guys crazy.  Especially when they’re already addicted to my writing.

    From there I exploded in popularity and have never looked back.

    As the late Paul Harvey would have said … “and now you know … the rest of the story”

     

    xx

     

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  • Mistress in a Bikini

    Mistress in a Bikini

    After 3 jiu jitsu – wrestling – fighting sessions this week i needed a day off today.  Both from sessions and writing.  So chilled at the pool with my friend, hit a friends wedding, went shopping and basically did nothing but rest the rest of the evening.

    Listen if you wanna book me this week you have to do it before Friday cuz i’m off next weekend.  Another wedding.  What’s with all my friends getting married suddenly?

    Wednesday is your best chance for a session.  Every other day is pretty booked and after Thursday night i’m gone til Monday.

    So i’m gonna sleep early and have something more exciting tomorrow.  I just need a break ok guys

     

     

     

     

  • 50 Shades of Green

    50 Shades of Green

    Something sticks out like a dick on a female statue when you see Fifty Shades of Grey here.  As they ID’d the 40 year old lady in front of me just as they had done to the 50 year old lady in front of her, i thought about 1984. Yes fuck, I know i wasn’t born yet.  And no not this 1984 either …

    You can’t grab a girl who lived underground all her life … take her up to the ground at night one time … show her the stars … and expect her to understand what she sees.  She will say “what the fuck is that?” and run back under the earth to hide.  So this Mistress kind of felt sorry for everybody getting ID’d because it was like saying “ok you qualify to see the movie now so you may enter.”  The guy looked at me like I was 7 not 27 and i said to him in English so he wouldn’t understand …

    “fuck , i qualify.  trust me baby” lol

    Are you kidding me?  Knowing that I am the only girl out of 300 in the movie theater who is going to understand this movie is as fun as having someone else’s shadow.  I wanted so much to be the girl with the sledgehammer.  Not this sledgehammer girl …

     

     

    this sledgehammer girl …

     

     

    But sometimes it’s just better to enjoy the one time you know you are different than everybody else by sitting back, shutting up, and just smile.

    It was obvious in the first 20 minutes of the movie everybody and especially the girls sitting in my row came to see a movie with a hot guy and lots of sex.  Every word Mr Grey said to the girl he was seducing was repeated by 200 girls behind and beside me and then giggle giggle squirm squirm laugh.  Actually i thought maybe i will use the sledgehammer but for a different reason lol.  It was ok though, because I knew very soon everybody would either shut up or leave.

    When Mr. Grey said to her “come i want to show you my room” i smiled.  It’s the same thing i say and do every day to the guys I meet at the condo.  I take them by the hand because they are all afraid like her and bring them to my room.  Then as Mr. Grey opened the door to his dungeon bedroom 300 girls said “oh my god” as I said “mmm nice.”  I’ve seen stars before, they are beautiful na.

    greyBefore he spanks her ass with his crop he asks her “what are your safe words?”

    “yellow for almost too far.  red for enough.” and 300 girls shriek as he slaps her ass lightly with the crop.  Really?  She needs a safe word?  I’m like “green green green green like 50 shades of green.”  These girls in the theater have no idea what makes my guys say yellow.  When you are underneath my ass looking up, you see my hole open, and the shit is coming out into your mouth … THEN  you can yell “red red red red red red red”.

    From that point the theater was silent as fate.

    During the last bdsm scene his submissive is laying on the table and she is counting the spanking from him.  I understand why he wants to do that to her.  I understand he doesn’t want to hurt her but that is just him and what makes him enjoy her is the feeling of spanking.  I got everything about the movie because bdsm is the ocean, I am the shark, and when you come into my water none of you know how to swim.

     

    xx

     

     

     

  • Tiffany Twisted Thai

    I live in Bangkok the so called big and civilized city … around 8 million people are in and around this big city and they call it “the city that never sleeps.”

    fon-weightsBut you know when I walk amongst the streets of crowded people I feel empty, lonely and most of all I feel sorry.  My feeling of sorrow is not because i’m not happy or my mood at that particular time, but comes from this feeling of inequality in this social mix.  I saw a a begger with a baby sleeping on the street with no food or clothes and then close-by in another location i saw a group of people who call themselves ‘hi-so’ doing some stupid activities just to burn money.  I see people putting on masks and walking everywhere blind to the injustice.
    Why?  I tried to find the answers many many times and this is the only answer i found.  The answer is that I can’t tell anybody about it and i don’t think anybody can fix it.  I love Thailand because this is my mother country, but i want to get out of here because of these reasons i see around me.
    You couldn’t understand what i’m trying to say unless you share the same soul with me.  If you don’t, forget about it, just like the rest do.
    Tried talking about it to a few people today … and i got sent this story do you know it?
    The Fisherman and His Wife
    Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
    Once upon a time there were a fisherman and his wife who lived together in a filthy shack near the sea. Every day the fisherman went out fishing, and he fished, and he fished. Once he was sitting there fishing and looking into the clear water, and he sat, and he sat. Then his hook went to the bottom, deep down, and when he pulled it out, he had caught a large flounder.Then the flounder said to him, “Listen, fisherman, I beg you to let me live. I am not an ordinary flounder, but an enchanted prince. How will it help you to kill me? I would not taste good to you. Put me back into the water, and let me swim.””Well,” said the man, “there’s no need to say more. I can certainly let a fish swim away who knows how to talk.”With that he put it back into the clear water, and the flounder disappeared to the bottom, leaving a long trail of blood behind him.Then the fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the filthy shack.”Husband,” said the woman, “didn’t you catch anything today?””No,” said the man. “I caught a flounder, but he told me that he was an enchanted prince, so I let him swim away.””Didn’t you ask for anything first?” said the woman.

    “No,” said the man. “What should I have asked for?”

    “Oh,” said the woman. “It is terrible living in this shack. It stinks and is filthy. You should have asked for a little cottage for us. Go back and call him. Tell him that we want to have a little cottage. He will surely give it to us.”

    “Oh,” said the man. “Why should I go back there?”

    “Look,” said the woman, “you did catch him, and then you let him swim away. He will surely do this for us. Go right now.”

    The man did not want to go, but neither did he want to oppose his wife, so he went back to the sea.

    When he arrived there it was no longer clear, but yellow and green. He stood there and said:

    Mandje! Mandje! Timpe Te!
    Flounder, flounder, in the sea!
    My wife, my wife Ilsebill,
    Wants not, wants not, what I will
    The flounder swam up and said, “What does she want then?””Oh,” said the man, “I did catch you, and now my wife says that I really should have asked for something. She doesn’t want to live in a filthy shack any longer. She would like to have a cottage.”

    “Go home,” said the flounder. “She already has it.”

    The man went home, and his wife was standing in the door of a cottage, and she said to him, “Come in. See, now isn’t this much better?”

    There was a little front yard, and a beautiful little parlor, and a bedroom where their bed was standing, and a kitchen, and a dining room. Everything was beautifully furnished and supplied with tin and brass utensils, just as it should be. And outside there was a little yard with chickens and ducks and a garden with vegetables and fruit.

    “Look,” said the woman. “Isn’t this nice?”

    “Yes,” said the man. “This is quite enough. We can live here very well.”

    “We will think about that,” said the woman.

    Then they ate something and went to bed.

    Everything went well for a week or two, and then the woman said, “Listen, husband. This cottage is too small. The yard and the garden are too little. The flounder could have given us a larger house. I would like to live in a large stone palace. Go back to the flounder and tell him to give us a palace.”

    “Oh, wife,” said the man, “the cottage is good enough. Why would we want to live in a palace?”

    “I know why,” said the woman. “Now you just go. The flounder can do that.”

    “Now, wife, the flounder has just given us the cottage. I don’t want to go back so soon. It may make the flounder angry.”

    “Just go,” said the woman. “He can do it, and he won’t mind doing it. Just go.”

    The man’s heart was heavy, and he did not want to go. He said to himself, “This is not right,” but he went anyway.

    When he arrived at the sea the water was purple and dark blue and gray and dense, and no longer green and yellow. He stood there and said:

    Mandje! Mandje! Timpe Te!
    Flounder, flounder, in the sea!
    My wife, my wife Ilsebill,
    Wants not, wants not, what I will
    “What does she want then?” said the flounder.”Oh,” said the man sadly, “my wife wants to live in a stone palace.”

    “Go home. She’s already standing before the door,” said the flounder.

    Then the man went his way, thinking he was going home, but when he arrived, standing there was a large stone palace. His wife was standing on the stairway, about to enter.

    Taking him by the hand, she said, “Come inside.”

    He went inside with her. Inside the palace there was a large front hallway with a marble floor. Numerous servants opened up the large doors for them. The walls were all white and covered with beautiful tapestry. In the rooms there were chairs and tables of pure gold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings. The rooms and chambers all had carpets. Food and the very best wine overloaded the tables until they almost collapsed. Outside the house there was a large courtyard with the very best carriages and stalls for horses and cows. Furthermore there was a magnificent garden with the most beautiful flowers and fine fruit trees and a pleasure forest a good half mile long, with elk and deer and hares and everything that anyone could possibly want.

    “Now,” said the woman, “isn’t this nice?”

    “Oh, yes” said the man. “This is quite enough. We can live in this beautiful palace and be satisfied.”

    “We’ll think about it,” said the woman. “Let’s sleep on it.” And with that they went to bed.

    The next morning the woman woke up first. It was just daylight, and from her bed she could see the magnificent landscape before her. Her husband was just starting to stir when she poked him in the side with her elbow and said, “Husband, get up and look out the window. Look, couldn’t we be king over all this land?”

    “Oh, wife,” said the man, “why would we want to be king? I don’t want to be king.”

    “Well,” said the woman, “even if you don’t want to be king, I want to be king.”

    “Oh, wife,” said the man, “why do you want to be king? I don’t want to tell him that.”

    “Why not?” said the woman, “Go there immediately. I must be king.”

    So the man, saddened because his wife wanted to be king, went back.

    “This is not right, not right at all,” thought the man. He did not want to go, but he went anyway.

    When he arrived at the sea it was dark gray, and the water heaved up from below and had a foul smell. He stood there and said:

    Mandje! Mandje! Timpe Te!
    Flounder, flounder, in the sea!
    My wife, my wife Ilsebill,
    Wants not, wants not, what I will
    “What does she want then,” said the flounder.”Oh,” said the man, “she wants to be king.”

    “Go home. She is already king,” said the flounder.

    Then the man went home, and when he arrived there, the palace had become much larger, with a tall tower and magnificent decorations. Sentries stood outside the door, and there were so many soldiers, and drums, and trumpets. When he went inside everything was of pure marble and gold with velvet covers and large golden tassels. Then the doors to the great hall opened up, and there was the entire court. His wife was sitting on a high throne of gold and diamonds. She was wearing a large golden crown, and in her hand was a scepter of pure gold and precious stones. On either side of her there stood a line of maids-in-waiting, each one a head shorter than the other.

    “Oh, wife, are you now king?”

    “Yes,” she said, “now I am king.”

    He stood and looked at her, and after thus looking at her for a while he said, “Wife, it is very nice that you are king. Now we don’t have to wish for anything else.”

    “No, husband,” she said, becoming restless. “Time is on my hands. I cannot stand it any longer. Go to the flounder. I am king, but now I must become emperor.”

    “Oh, wife” said the man, “Why do you want to become emperor?”

    “Husband,” she said, “go to the flounder. I want to be emperor.”

    “Oh, wife,” said the man, “he cannot make you emperor. I cannot tell the flounder to do that. There is only one emperor in the realm. The flounder cannot make you emperor. He cannot do that.”

    “What!” said the woman. “I am king, and you are my husband. Are you going? Go there immediately. If he can make me king then he can make me emperor. I want to be and have to be emperor. Go there immediately.”

    So he had to go. As he went on his way the frightened man thought to himself, “This is not going to end well. To ask to be emperor is shameful. The flounder is going to get tired of this.”

    With that he arrived at the sea. The water was all black and dense and boiling up from within. A strong wind blew over him that curdled the water. He stood there and said:

    Mandje! Mandje! Timpe Te!
    Flounder, flounder, in the sea!
    My wife, my wife Ilsebill,
    Wants not, wants not, what I will
    “What does she want then?” said the flounder.”Oh, flounder,” he said, “my wife wants to become emperor.”

    “Go home,” said the flounder. “She is already emperor.”

    Then the man went home, and when he arrived there, the entire palace was made of polished marble with alabaster statues and golden decoration. Soldiers were marching outside the gate, blowing trumpets and beating tympani and drums. Inside the house, barons and counts and dukes were walking around like servants. They opened the doors for him, which were made of pure gold. He went inside where his wife was sitting on a throne made of one piece of gold a good two miles high, and she was wearing a large golden crown that was three yards high, all set with diamonds and carbuncles. In the one hand she had a scepter, and in the other the imperial orb. Bodyguards were standing in two rows at her sides: each one smaller than the other, beginning with the largest giant and ending with the littlest dwarf, who was no larger than my little finger. Many princes and dukes were standing in front of her.

    The man went and stood among them and said, “Wife, are you emperor now?”

    “Yes,” she said, “I am emperor.”

    He stood and looked at her, and after thus looking at her for a while, he said, “Wife, it is very nice that you are emperor.”

    “Husband,” she said. “Why are you standing there? Now that I am emperor, and I want to become pope.”

    “Oh, wife!” said the man. “What do you not want? There is only one pope in all Christendom. He cannot make you pope.”

    “Husband,” she said, “I want to become pope. Go there immediately. I must become pope this very day.”

    “No, wife,” he said, “I cannot tell him that. It will come to no good. That is too much. The flounder cannot make you pope.”

    “Husband, what nonsense!” said the woman. “If he can make me emperor, then he can make me pope as well. Go there immediately. I am emperor, and you are my husband. Are you going?”

    Then the frightened man went. He felt sick all over, and his knees and legs were shaking, and the wind was blowing over the land, and clouds flew by as the darkness of evening fell. Leaves blew from the trees, and the water roared and boiled as it crashed onto the shore. In the distance he could see ships, shooting distress signals as they tossed and turned on the waves. There was a little blue in the middle of the sky, but on all sides it had turned red, as in a terrible lightning storm. Full of despair he stood there and said:

    Mandje! Mandje! Timpe Te!
    Flounder, flounder, in the sea!
    My wife, my wife Ilsebill,
    Wants not, wants not, what I will
    “What does she want then?” said the flounder.”Oh,” said the man, “she wants to become pope.”

    “Go home,” said the flounder. “She is already pope.”

    Then he went home, and when he arrived there, there was a large church surrounded by nothing but palaces. He forced his way through the crowd. Inside everything was illuminated with thousands and thousands of lights, and his wife was clothed in pure gold and sitting on a much higher throne. She was wearing three large golden crowns. She was surrounded with church-like splendor, and at her sides there were two banks of candles. The largest was as thick and as tall as the largest tower, down to the smallest kitchen candle. And all the emperors and kings were kneeling before her kissing her slipper.

    “Wife,” said the man, giving her a good look, “are you pope now?”

    “Yes,” she said, “I am pope.”

    Then he stood there looking at her, and it was as if he were looking into the bright sun. After he had looked at her for a while he said, “Wife, It is good that you are pope!”

    She stood there as stiff as a tree, neither stirring nor moving.

    Then he said, “Wife, be satisfied now that you are pope. There is nothing else that you can become.”

    “I have to think about that,” said the woman.

    Then they both went to bed, but she was not satisfied. Her desires would not let her sleep. She kept thinking what she wanted to become next.

    The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a lot during the day, but the woman could not sleep at all, but tossed and turned from one side to the other all night long, always thinking about what she could become, but she could not think of anything.

    Then the sun was about to rise, and when she saw the early light of dawn she sat up in bed and watched through the window as the sun came up.

    “Aha,” she thought. “Could not I cause the sun and the moon to rise?”

    “Husband,” she said, poking him in the ribs with her elbow, “wake up and go back to the flounder. I want to become like God.”

    The man, who was still mostly asleep, was so startled that he fell out of bed. He thought that he had misunderstood her, so, rubbing his eyes, he said, “Wife, what did you say?”

    “Husband,” she said, “I cannot stand it when I see the sun and the moon rising, and I cannot cause them to do so. I will not have a single hour of peace until I myself can cause them to rise.”

    She looked at him so gruesomely that he shuddered.

    “Go there immediately. I want to become like God.”

    “Oh, wife,” said the man, falling on his knees before her, “the flounder cannot do that. He can make you emperor and pope, but I beg you, be satisfied and remain pope.”

    Anger fell over her. Her hair flew wildly about her head. Tearing open her bodice she kicked him with her foot and shouted, “I cannot stand it! I cannot stand it any longer! Go there immediately!”

    He put on his trousers and ran off like a madman.

    Outside such a storm was raging that he could hardly stand on his feet. Houses and trees were blowing over. The mountains were shaking, and boulders were rolling from the cliffs into the sea. The sky was as black as pitch. There was thunder and lightning. In the sea there were great black waves as high as church towers and mountains, all capped with crowns of white foam.

    Mandje! Mandje! Timpe Te!
    Flounder, flounder, in the sea!
    My wife, my wife Ilsebill,
    Wants not, wants not, what I will
    “What does she want then?” said the flounder.”Oh,” he said, “she wants to become like God.”

    “Go home. She is sitting in her filthy shack again.”

    And they are sitting there even today.

    I think he was trying to send me a message about me being a Thai girl and not being happy with what I have.  So says the millionaire to the bum as he drives on by.  My mind is not tiffany twisted thank you.
    Anyway that story does not work in Thailand … everybody here would have eaten the stupid fish in the beginning.  555

    Pasaya xx
    avatar

    About the Author, the Domina, and the Girl: Mistress Pasaya

    fom-bw-smileI am not just a Bangkok Mistress and Domina / Dominatrix , i am the most sexy Domina in Thailand and for sure with Mistress Jaa we are the smartest.  A Bangkok Mistress these days is about the colors red and black and fake photos pretending to enjoy bdsm in an expensive dungeon.  I enjoy bdsm because i play with my clients using my brain, my imagination and my understanding of how men think.  The bdsm toys are just a tool really, a real dominatrix doesn’t need to use tools if she doesn’t want to, and that’s where i am coming from — i am a real Dominatrix — Jaa and I are Bangkok’s only true domina ‘s in my opinion.  I’m really into Tease & Denial since it makes men beg but i’m also into a different kind of begging — the kind a man makes when i’ve stolen his heart, his soul, and his mind — and then then throw him to the water for the mistakes he has made to lose me.  I guess i am a teacher for men as well then, i teach men what it takes to keep a girl like me.

  • Tease & Denial Blowjob Session

    Sometimes it’s better to send you home not knowing what the f**k happened to you.  The last two words my client said tonight as the motorcycle taxi pulled away was “wait wtf?????” and then i blocked his number – for a little bit – so i don’t wake up from the 100 calls and sms he will send in the middle of the night.

    Yes i block a lot of people – getting a lot of emails about that and it doesn’t make people happy …

    “I think you are right and Mistress Pasaya was just joking … I think, I am to old for that teenager games .”

    The ‘Block’ button is the most powerful button on my phone.  Being able to talk to me is a privilege not a right and if more women would understand that about themselves the world would be a different place.  But you have to put yourself in a position to make men desperate to talk to you – and not a lot of women can do that.  I grew up in the poor village and could be like all the girls i grew up with.  Pregnant with no job and no school and the man he run away with another girl so nobody to take care and no money for the rest of the life – about 99% of the girls i knew have a life like that now.

    fon4-400Me i am 27 yo and lucky to be very pretty.  I have no children no boyfriend no husband but i do have a degree from Australia so it is worth more than toilet paper.  Never been pregnant, never been jaded, never been broken hearted again after my dad left me.  I choose not to smoke, i choose not to have tattoos, and i choose the men i want to have sex with carefully.  The ones i don’t choose are my foot worship slaves and of them i have an army.

    My client tonight interests me so probably i will unblock him soon – give him back the privilege to talk to me again – but i will not answer his question “wtf just happened in the session?” – that i leave for his imagination to play with his cock or go throw up i don’t care which lol 555.

    This guy he always talks about blowjobs in his emails to me.

    So i told him my last boyfriend stayed with me because i am the only one in his life to make him cum from a blowjob.  Lie for sure – i think a man can cum if a zebra licks his dick – but ok i pretend i believe.  Lucky i keep the conversation about that in my phone because i sent to my client to make his imagination start to go crazy.  “i want that for me how can i get it?” i know my sms screenshot makes him start to think like that about his session.  So all the email after that i talk about how i do tease and denial blowjobs but never in the session only for a special boyfriend and only sometimes even then.

    Hooked like a fish.  Now just have to make him think just a little bit he has a chance for a bj in the session …

    “You’ll love mine it tastes good you may be down there for hours who knows”

    “Ya maybe days you never know 555”

    I get to the condo at 5pm for the 6pm session.  So early because i know for sure he will come early… its like feeding a dog a snack because men never come late for their snack 555.  Ya look at that 5:40 i get his sms he is almost at the condo what did i tell you?

    So i am teasing him with his hands and feet tied to the bed and he has double blindfold.  Means he has the small sleeping blindfold for the eyes and the face mask so he cannot even think about peeking.  Get him super close to his orgasm and i leave him to go pee about 3 minutes.

    Still hard next thing he knows is i am attacking his cock with my mouth.  No tease no touching just between his legs giving a perfect blowjob.

    “Don’t stop don’t fucking stop” he says and push his hips off the bed into my mouth.

    “I won’t don’t worry”

    But he worries.  Worries a lot i think because he does not say he is cumming he does it quietly.  So much cum that he hears choking trying to swallow or spit out well that is normal to have so much cum like that after 2 hours of teasing.  Probably enough to fill a coffee cup and that is good because the condo has no Coffeemate now for my coffee or Jaa’s coffee when she comes but now there is enough for 1 month lol 555.

    About 5 minutes just leave him like that on the bed to make him think somebody forget about him.

    He hears the door for the condo close too so he thinks i left him to go to 7 Eleven but i stay in the bathroom.  Not shower or anything just do my eye makeup because i had dinner for 8pm tonight too so it is one thing i sometimes put makeup on for.

    Ok about that na – my customers always ask me why i wear no makeup at all for the sessions?  I never wear makeup i like natural beauty.  You see my photos i never wear makeup and never decorate the photo i like it to look natural how i am every day.  Most men love it.  I love it because i can look more beautiful without makeup than most girls after they do 1 hour of makeup lol.  I think men love natural things anyway.  But please wear cologne for your sessions na … i love the smell so much.  If you smell the condo when you come in next time ask yourself what you smell and why the condo smells so good?  If you can tell me what is my secret i give you a cheek kiss ok na 🙂

    I let him shower and i get ready to go out and tell him i will go downstairs with him because i have dinner meeting at 8pm.

    Waiting for the motorcycle taxi downstairs i ask him how was the session did he like the tease or not?

    “Was ok”

    “only ok na?”

    fon5-at-300The motorcycle comes and i say for him to go first to the top of the soi.  He gets on but kisses me on my hair before and he said to me “it was amazing but you said you’d go down for days”

    “Can i ask you something and you answer me after in sms ok?”

    He gets on his motorcycle and the driver makes U turn in the condo driveway and waits to cross the road and go … but he is waiting for my question still.

    “How can i tell you i won’t stop … if your cock is in my mouth baby?”

    No answer.  Just his face confused trying to play the session in his head again like a movie but he has not time for that the motorcycle goes away.  But just enough time for me to say one more thing to him …

    “Don’t worry … just because you like it one time does not make you gay.”

    “Wait wtf??????” and the motorcycle takes him away from the condo and into his nightmare or his fantasy.  I don’t care which lol.

     

    Mistress Pasaya xx

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    About the Author, the Domina, and the Girl: Mistress Pasaya

     

    I am nfom-bw-smileot j ust a Bangkok Mistress and Domina / Dominatrix , i am the most sexy Domina in Thailand and for sure with Mistress Jaa we are the smartest.  A Bangkok Mistress these days is about the colors red and black and fake photos pretending to enjoy bdsm in an expensive dungeon.  I enjoy bdsm because i play with my clients using my brain, my imagination and my understanding of how men think.  The bdsm toys are just a tool really, a real dominatrix doesn’t need to use tools if she doesn’t want to, and that’s where i am coming from — i am a real Dominatrix — Jaa and I are Bangkok’s only true domina ‘s in my opinion.  I’m really into Tease & Denial since it makes men beg but i’m also into a different kind of begging — the kind a man makes when i’ve stolen his heart, his soul, and his mind — and then then throw him to the water for the mistakes he has made to lose me.  I guess i am a teacher for men as well then, i teach men what it takes to keep a girl like me.