“Aren’t you going to give me a shot to knock me out before you cut me open?
“No. Don’t need.”
(2 minutes later)
“need. need.” (repeat times 12)
“It’s ok. 19 more to go.” the doctor says with the wry humour of a dead puppy.
My eyes roll back as he makes the next incision and the knife introduces me to pain like a shot of Tabasco sauce to the back of the throat.
I gasp, a little, and then make the mistake of looking down toward my pelvis to see my skin sliced open an inch deep.
And then, darkness, black like the night. Only to wake up , perhaps a moment later, perhaps longer (?) with vision blurred by the water in my eyes.
My face collapses to the right and as a gentle tear rolls down my cheek and drops a moment later on the cold silver operating table I think I see a friend looking at me and she smiles at me.
I was thinking how is that possible that she’s in the room with me – and then I felt – almost in slow motion – the scalpel insert its way through my abdomen once again.
Once more I’m thrown into the darkness of my subconscious mind , this time surrounded by a room full of broken clocks, swirling among one another down a circular chasm toward oblivion.
I wanted to cry for somebody to come hold me.
Strangely, there’s nothing much more I remember after that.
The surgery – was an awful experience.
But it’s over. Now here I am on my sofa writing to you because these pain killers haven’t fully taken effect just yet.
I’m off until the 12th.
Until then I breathe. And while I breathe, I hope.
One of the consequences of being born very premature is having to battle a lifetime of medical ailments , but a second and more cerebral ailment is living with the constant feeling that the world never intended for us to stick around , which are feelings both Wael and I share. As I posted on Twitter today, once again I’m going under the knife come September 1st and I’ve told my surgeon that I want all of these maladies removed in a single session , to which he remarked that I’d be in quite some discomfort for the first 10 days following the procedure. Thus, I’m not doing sessions until let’s say about the 12th of September, so keep that in mind.
I honestly wouldn’t mind the constant medical visits if I had a sense of belonging since birth , but that hasn’t been the case. I’ve been hated and loathed since childhood, by my mom, by students I attended school with , by nearly all my teachers, and to a certain extent – my friends as well. I just feel like I’ve been poked at endlessly by both humans and bacteria , and certainly – if the Earth was flat , the end game of the taunting would be to push me off of Earth’s ledge.
“Why do you even exist?”
Do you know who said that to Wael today? Her mom. Wael too was born premature, so we share the same feelings about the matter. That’s a pretty god awful thing to say to your daughter isn’t it? I don’t have kids, probably never will, but I can’t imagine any scenario where I would say something like that to a child that I had brought into the world.
Ah, what brought about such a comment from her mom, that’s a reasonable question to ask. Since the actual size of the family property in Chiang Rai is quite large – as it’s in the middle of nowhere , quite literally, we came up with the idea of buying a large assortment of seeds that her family could plant and harvest as goods to sell a few months hence. See, that would actually be ‘work’ for her family and since it’s much easier to sit in the nest and let the momma bird feed them (re: send money home every month to live on) our act of helping out was met with a rude slap in the face.
I told her today that it was those exact same words – spoken to me by my mom quite a few years back – that prompted me to take all her clothes outside and burn them.
See, that’s how I roll. Piss me off , and one will find out quickly that I’m quite the vengeful bitch.
Wael’s reaction, entirely different.
She came to see me today and expressed her desire to return to her Tease & Denial roots, opting to focus only on her 1 hour T&D session as that’s what she loves doing the most. She wants more time for herself to open a business of her own, not a big one, just a small one where she can pursue selling the thing she’s most passionate about – hand cream and oils. She even wants to have her own name brand as she loves making her own creams at home and is quite passionate about how wonderful her creams are , right down to how picky she is about the coconuts she chooses, all hand picked.
That’s fine, I told her that this job would get to her if she pushed being a Mistress too much. It ate the original Jaa alive, and was beginning to eat into her personality as well, which is a shame because Wael’s demeanor is pristine. Or was. The truth is , the auto-install Mistress personality that comes from doing this job every day is a curse as much as it is liberating.
Like me, she’s lost all her friends, and while she now too doesn’t take a single ounce of shit from a man , her eyes have been opened and there’s no road back to innocence once that’s happened. We see men for what they truly are, we see the world for what it truly is, and we see this country for what it truly represents. And it sickens us.
We’re ostracized for it, fine, but that’s something I can deal with – and something she can’t.
I can throw those feelings over my shoulder like salt , because I have a plan to get myself the fuck out of here. But she’s tied to this place because of her sister’s deteriorating down syndrome condition. A condition that’s gone so far off the rails because – well because of the very things we hate about this place. Doctors here have turned her sister into a drug addict. Why? Because there’s kickbacks in a medical system the rewards doctors money for the amount of pills they can prescribe. So the end result is a human being who’s being exploited for the financial gain of the rich. Like I said, the world sickens us.
My latest conversation with my doctor went down word for word as follows (because I don’t like the motherfucker)
“So you’re saying I’m fine now, but there’s a chance it could become a problem when I”m older?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want them removed, all of them, immediately.”
“Well let’s not be too hasty, we can control them with certain prescriptions that I’m sure over time …”
“Removed, immediately, or are you as deaf as you are pompous and retarded?”
“Excuse me?”
“See I’m offering you money in a lump sum rather than your intended blood sucking annuity. My question is, do you want my money or not? Because, let’s face it, that’s all your about isn’t it, money.”
Oh and look at that, I got my surgery appointment that very minute. You have to know that game being played , because that allows one to talk in an appropriate way.
I feel for Wael, she doesn’t have it in her to talk like I do. She’d wai him, and up her language to the socially acceptable level one talks to doctors because they’re for whatever reason held to a higher platform than us. You do know that 50% of them bribed their way through university right? I mean, that’s how the privileged get by here. Oh, you think you can just walk up to a 1st class international school and get your son or daughter in without handing over a huge stuffed envelope under the table? The bribery starts there, and continues right through med school. Think about that the next time you’re seeing a local doctor here. The privileged make me sick. That society revers them just like they do in the west (you know, where you actually have to pass your exams in Harvard) is a joke.
I’m up to 2 hour gym sessions every day.
It’s the only place that feels pure. Working out is purity. Working out so hard that I kneel over gasping for air or vomit into the trash can – that’s real. I want to get up to 3 hours. Then 4. I want to walk Yosemite’s Pohono trail , she of 70,000 steps and laugh at how easy it is. I want to traverse into the depths of the Grand Canyon and jog my way back to the top – slapping all the mules on the ass as I do.
Because ‘fuck you’ to the universe for not wanting me here. For fucking with my health so nature can be rid of me.
I’m here and getting stronger every day. This is what, my 4th operation in 3 years? Not including the monthly trips to my allergy doctor to keep that under control.
I saw this chick on FitBit bragging with photos that she’s up to 100 squats / day.
I”m at 400 bitch. With weights. Not a dumbbell, a barbell. Then two kettlebells. Then dumbbells. Then finally just my body weight until I can’t walk.
I have a good answer for Wael’s mom and her query “why do we exist.”
“To piss you off” is the appropriate answer.
Not her specifically, but the universe in general.
Not only were we born premature, we were born the unwanted gender – female , and into an immediate state of poverty. Yet here we are.
In fact , let’s flip it. “Why are YOU here?” should be the retort back to our families. After all, all you did was open your legs to get fucked and have done nothing worthwhile since.
Perhaps it’s time to not send the money home and let the truly weak die.
After all , how ironic it would be that two girls who arrived far too early, would be the ones to die far too late, outliving everyone who ever questioned our right to be here in the first place.
This naturally beautiful girl I met while hiking in Sri Lanka had these gorgeous eyes that held in a single instant both sadness and hope.
I saw in her eyes those of my own when I was her age , where there seemed to be no hope of a better life and yet – I knew if I was a bit entrepreneurial in my ways that it might be possible to find an escape.
So I gave her quite a handsome tip and a kiss on the cheek , told her to keep the flowers to sell to somebody else and it seemed like for a brief moment we connected as we looked in silence into each others eyes.
I guess I have a foolish soft heart for those caught in unfortunate situations , and I remember back to my Turkey trip when I had bought the yummiest looking beef wrap that I’ve ever seen and was just about to bite into it when I was surrounded by 3 refugee girls tugging on my shirt , looking like they hadn’t eaten in days. I gave the first girl the one I had and took the hands of the other two back to the shop and bought one for each of them. Then we sat and ate together with no words – but smiles a plenty from the four of us.
Gosh, I still go visit the two elephants I saved two years ago and yup – still pay a bit every month to give them a good life now that they’ve fully recovered.
It’s a beautiful world if we take the time to stop every once in a while and take in the beauty.
I had this one moment where I was on top of one of the hills the group had climbed (I say hill because now that I’ve seen Swiss mountains, to call what I climbed a mountain would be a misnomer) and I decided to stray off from the pack to take in the scenery by myself.
Suddenly, the way the landscape unfolded in front of me I felt like it could possibly be the same type of view one would see from Christ the Redeemer in Rio De Janeiro Brazil so I extended my arms and imagined that there I was , the Christ statue looking over this magnificent landscape in Sri Lanka and all the while making a commitment in my mind that I’d one day soon make my way to the shores of Brazil to compare the scenery from the feet of the redeemer statue.
Email me if you want to see the photo without the blur – that is , if you really wanna see a short tiny girl offering a none-too-imposing replica stance of said statue. It’s worth a chuckle perhaps. I get silly when I’m on vacation what can I say , I love to let go and find beauty in the world.
And if I can make somebody smile while on my travels , well , that’s just a wonderful feeling isn’t it 🙂
I boarded the plane for the flight home from Sri Lanka in a surly mood , one which dove a few levels deeper when truly – the second coming of John Candy from his Planes, Trains and Automobiles movie checked his ticket twice and confirmed with a smug smile that the aisle seat beside me was indeed his for the next few hours.
My forehead pressed even tighter against the window as I looked out it in such a forlorn way , unamused by the luggage handlers throwing bags onto the plane’s cargo area down below like they were hurling dead body bags into a grave. ‘Fuck my life’ I thought I said in my mind but apparently not.
“Why?” said the cartoonish small face of the man beside me.
I turned and gawked at the ridiculousness of how small an area his eyes, nose and mouth took up in comparison to his overall face.
“You look stupid, in particular, your face looks stupid because of the obesity of your body.”
“Oh and nice to meet you too” he added on as he adjusted his seat beside me, and then continued “and what do you do for a living huh, work as a meet and greet girl outside some nasty dungeon?”
Wow.
Fuck did he ever come close to hitting the nail on the head , I gotta admit I was impressed even if his comment was doused in sarcasm. So for better or worse I decided to add some intrigue to the conversation by replying: “nope, I’m the girl who the meet and greet girl takes you to see inside the dungeon. The type of girl that only a particular set of men are interested in seeing.”
“I see” he said as he adjusted his equally small spectacles by pushing them up on his downward curved nose , one that was curved so much one might mistake it for a ski jump hill at the Olympics.
Then he offered “and what kind of services would such men be seeking? Hmmm” and damn if that ‘hmmm’ at the end wasn’t annoying as fuck, like he deliberately put that in there with the rising tone that we use in my language , but his felt cheap , almost condescending. So to back him off I told him the plain truth – just off by a day (the 8th as opposed to the 7th) …
“Well the gentleman I’m flying home to meet tomorrow, he’s asked me to shatter his testicle.”
I let that sit for a while, to let the weight of it marinade in the air like a freshly opened Beaujolais.
Then with a sickened look on his face , but not a natural one, again more of a condescending look that’s more fake than sincere he said rather accusingly “and you’re ok with doing that becaussssssssse” and he hung onto the S as long as he hung onto the ‘hmmm’ a sentence before.
“Because he’s paying me $3,000 bucks in USA money to do so” was my tart matter-of-fact answer shot back quicker than a gunslinger can get off a bullet.
Then just like that , he became totally uninterested in me. From the storage netting in front of our knees he took out a plastic black case and from it he unfolded a pair of Sony headphones, placed them upon his head and closed his eyes.
‘Huh’ I thought.
I mean, I’ll admit that sometimes when I drop bombshell lines like I was doing there I know almost every guy will be ever so intrigued at finding out more about me. But not Mr Clothes Pegs Salesman here , the one taking up the entirety of my right arm rest with his blubberous forearms.
So I bit my lip and paid attention to the runway disappearing below as we took off and held my gaze out the window until we lifted up into the haze of the clouds.
At that point I wanted to relax but damn if I could as this guys arm was hogging all the space that I normally conquer for myself. Not only that but for about thirty minutes the guy had just completely shut off like he was an android that put himself on instant power down mode. I don’t mind that he just simply detached himself from the small talk we were engaged in, but rather , I was intrigued by how putting on his headphones he just entered instantaneous hibernation mode. Fuck I wish I could do that.
I had done that once by accident a couple years back when I had gone to Chiang Mai to visit Jaa and was facing the long ten hour ride back with a splitting headache from my inability to sleep that week. Being born premature, I’m prone to skin rashes on my shoulder or back due to my sensitivity to allergies – or even dust particles. That’s why my condo is so spic-and-span clean , and it’s why I have to pre medicate myself before going away on trips.
Anyways, blah blah blah , to make a long story short, my shoulder had flared up that week and I was sans zzzz’s for about 4 days. Of all the places I find I can’t sleep the most, the absolute worst has to be on a bus. There’s just no way I can sit straight up and sleep to the humming of the tires on the freeway. So that day I happened into a drug store just outside the bus station and asked the guy if he could please give me something to help me survive the bus ride home. To get an idea of how tired I was, when I asked him I was in tears because it felt like somebody was grabbing me by my hair and slamming the upper left side of my head into a wall repeatedly.
The dude went into his ‘drawer of questionable things for sale’ and produced for my hand a strip of tiny blue pills. “Take one and you’ll be fine.”
Kk, bought them for 300 baht which if you know Thailand is crazy expensive as all meds here are dirt cheap. Took one 20 mins before the bus left … nada. As we were pulling out I decided to pop a 2nd one and wait 15 mins. Again, nada. So I took the 3rd and last one. With that same forlorn look I had pressed my head against the bus window and closed my eyes to wish my way back to Bangkok.
Next thing I knew the service girl on the bus was violently rattling my shoulder telling me to disembark and get my luggage. Then , you know this trick shot they do in movies where the camera rapidly tracks towards the actor and it looks like he’s in a time tunnel. Best scene I remember it from is from Jaws when Brody first got wind there was a shark in the water on the busy beach:
Trying to steady myself on the bus , to getting my luggage, to somehow making it to a seat in the lobby of those waiting to actually leave the station , was probably the closest I’ll ever to know what somebody tripping on heroin feels like. That was me in the dolly shot , one that lasted more than a few movie seconds. Turns out through some research 2 days later … yup that’s how long I slept those 3 pills off , that the guy had given me Zanex , of which 1 capsule is well enough to knock somebody out cold with as tiny a body as I have.
So here’s Buffalo Bob , all 300 lbs of him beside me, able to knock himself out with just as much ease , just with a pair of headphones.
Thus, without further adieu, I took both my hands and with one on his elbow and the other firmly gripping his wrist I lifted his arm up and heaved it across his body putting my arm in it’s place … a move I instantly regretted as it slipped ickily upon the sweat it had left behind. Fuck it , I claimed the territory, wasn’t about to relinquish it for nothing.
“Rude” was all he said.
“Men should offer women the space before taking it” I said in a huff.
“Rock Paper Scissors for it?” he retorted with a raised fist in the form of a menacing rock waiting to crush any scissors placed before it.
Didn’t expect that. Made me smile actually. And since I suck at rock paper shotgun , I made him a counter offer.
“You can have the space , briefly, for some insight on how you can power off like a robot.”
“Oh you mean the headphones” he suddenly said with a proud tone in his voice.
“I suppose, is that your ticket to some sort of paradiso?”
“It’s my ticket to some other realm of consciousness, don’t know about paradise though.
“I said paradiso, not paradise.” Ye, I was being a smart ass.
“Paradie, paradiso, tomato tomatto, same.”
Fuck I liked this guy. Liked his wit. Liked how he was comfortable with who he was, pretty much just like Del in PT&Automobiles eh?
So from that little back and forth, we got into quite the conversation about human consciousness , about sensory deprivation chambers , and ways people seek peacefulness. What an enjoyable few hours we had talking back and forth and I was totally lost in the exchange because before I knew it, the ‘fasten seatbelt’ noise alerted me to the fact we were beginning our decent into Bangkok.
And right there and then I cried.
Caught him somewhat speechless , and probably he didn’t know how to react because I tilted my head onto his shoulder as we descended into the clouds and he was even too shy or shocked to pat my shoulder, though he tried, twice.
Apart from the fact the vacation was a train wreck for me emotionally , I always get depressed when I have to fly back here.
But I guess the fact I just had a stimulating conversation , one quite unexpected, and was about to go back to a life of conversations full of “did you eat rice yet? Oh really? What did you have with your rice? How much? Where did you buy it” … all of those questions which is the conversation de rigeur in these parts and so grossly banal that it makes ones stomach turn. It’s returning to the void of intelligence which begets this place where I reluctantly have to call home, it makes me want to scream.
Y’all are asking me if I can do a session today, the 7th and the unequivocal answer is : no fucking way.
I need a day to forget that such conversations can be had , pack them up in a .zip file for long term storage in the back of my mind and let these 24 hours sink me slowly back into the cesspool of life which is Bangkok.
Sometime tomorrow the hate for this place will have covered my soul from which the penumbra of my mistress personality will once again begin to emerge, ready in time for my first session at 7pm Saturday evening.
But before then, I’m going shopping for those Sony noise cancelling headphones he had let me listen to. I had told him right then and there that is the thing I had been seeking , but I never got into why.
I need something to shut out Bangkok from my consciousness. I need to find a way to live here but not be aware of it and these headphones might just do the trick. After my massage tonight I’m going to hopefully disappear right here in my living room to some parallel dimension.
Who knows, might be that I happen across Del there , you’ll know if I have some new shower curtains when you drop by this week 🙂
I can’t put my finger on what it is , but here on my 31st birthday what I can say definitively is that I’ve never felt so far removed from the path of life I thought I was on, and that’s made me more depressed than I’ve ever felt before in my life.
What I do know is that this is the most fit I’ve ever been , having done two hours every day with my personal trainer for well over a year now , and subsequently this is the hottest I’ve ever looked. Which in turn means that my sessions, because they’re based on harnessing the natural desires in men when aroused , are as good as they’ve ever been. I’ve literally melted men and had them wrapped around my finger time after time this last month. Strangely, in the sessions where I’ve thrown the personna of acting dominant out the window , those have been the times I’ve been the most dominant as men wilt before me like a flower in the presence of a desert storm.
Yet, here I am single on my birthday , again , and worse – so alone.
Not lonely per se , as I’ve learned to deal with all my free time by adhering to an arduous schedule of hard workouts, double sessions every day , and a ton of time spent with email discourse.
So not lonely, but alone.
If you had told me after University a whole decade ago that I’d still be single and still living in Bangkok , I’d have told you that you were nuts. But that’s the truth of the matter isn’t it.
The thing is , though I want love, though I seek it , and though I covet it , I simply cannot live with a man under the same roof. People’s habits drive me crazy , be it their uncleanliness or their penchant for lying , or their substandard goals for what they want to achieve in life. So how can I possibly get married , have kids , and share a life when proximity to another man for any extended length of time repulses me? I can’t can I ?
I’ve reflected on whether it was this lifestyle of being a mistress and the mind set that comes with it that perhaps has driven me to be so non accepting of traditional co-habitation arrangements. No I don’t think so. I’ve been able to successfully separate mistress life from personal life so far , I’m fully aware of who I am when I’m not working and I’m happy with myself. I’m happiest the most when I’m at the gym because in those two hours every day there’s just me and the weights I’m squatting or benching. It’s not that I love weight lifting with a coach pushing me to my limits , it’s that it feels like a goal .. each set , each rep , each workout is a goal that I can accomplish.
I just answered an email where I was asked how are things by saying – not so good really as I don’t feel I have a life goal right now.
I used to want children – now I don’t. So that path is crossed off.
I used to want marriage , now I don’t think I’m the type who is cut out to live with a man.
I used to want to get as far away from Thailand as humanly possible , and I still want that but since I used to think that the path to doing that was through love and marriage , I don’t rightly know how to pursue that dream any longer.
The only thing I know is that I’m a hell of a good mistress. Probably , I’d say it’s a fair guess that I’m one of the best in pretty much all of Asia. It comes naturally , so naturally nowadays that I’m surprised at how I fit the role so snug like an old worn mitten on a cold winter’s day.
However, that’s not what I ever aspired to be in my life. If that’s all I am , I find life – wanting.
There must be more out there but I don’t know how to find it. Not yet anyways.
So when I say I feel alone, I mean – I feel like I’m disconnected from the planet , if that makes any sense. Disconnected from the path the universe has or had in store for me , those warm fuzzy thoughts about life that I had , and that we’ve all had back in our youth , have all dissipated , and instead I’m left with a void. One that I fill with nothing but routine every day.
Someone who somehow happened across my only presence on social media the other day asked me why I disguise my online presence as a wolf.
Well that’s who I am, a lone wolf. Respected, appreciated , but never fully understood , and at the end of the day she walks alone in the woods and it’s lonely howls are so distinct they are instantly etched in your mind forever as something beautiful to listen to.
In reality however, they are lonely cries , not founded out of self pity but out of fact.
You see no tears falling down my face , but if you look deep into my eyes , you can see them flowing from my soul.
xx
p.s: I’m not much of a Financial Dominatrix , I don’t see the point in demanding money from men and giving nothing in return. Seems a bit selfish in my opinion. However, if you did want to do something for my birthday , you can always send an Amazon Gift Card to my email address ( [email protected] ) .
[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]
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
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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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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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Dave just left my condo from our first date. He thought it was a date, in reality it was just an experiment of mine. Lately, these “mistress’s boyfriend for a day” sessions have been so amazing that I’ve started to wonder if the crazy suggestive techniques I use on my submissive harem of men would work equally well on a stranger who has no idea that I’m a Mistress – one talented in the art of Seduction. So I thought it would be interesting for you guys to peek into my mind and relive with me what just went down over the past five hours on my “date.” It’ll give you a glimpse I suppose at how my mind works, some of the techniques I use, and that will either amaze you or bore you to death. Dunno which, but it’s worth a shot so here goes.
First, i’m going to let you in on a little secret.
Actually, no I’m not. I can’t. Though I really want to, doing so would undermine my business success.
Because the truth of the matter is that it’s not a little secret at all, it’s a compilation of a great many secrets.
No it’s not that I have a cock hanging between my legs, you can strike that from your filthy little minds right now. Besides, having a dick between my legs couldn’t properly be classified as being a secret, rather a better word for something like that would be“catastrophic game changer”. Or perhaps “fuck it I’m out of here.”
So how does one go about writing about this little bit of information that I have which is compelling me to sit down and write but yet I can’t divulge what that golden nugget of information is?
Well let’s start with what I can tell you.
Luring you into becoming my submissive boyfriend apparently is quite dangerous. Dangerous for you that is. Like, criminally dangerous.
What I can do with you in 2 hours is absolutely nothing compared to what I can do with you in 2 or 3 days. in fact, I’m finding that there is almost no limit to what I can make you do for me or feel for me given sufficient time. The devilishness of the whole thing though, the reason that I’m sitting down to write this, is that it blows my mind right to this very second just how much you guys keep asking for more even though you know just how very dangerous your emotions are to being overheated. you’re at the point where you’ve lost total control of your emotions of your behavior and of your own free will- yet you love it.
Like I had an idea this was possible for the last 5 or 6 years while I was limiting mostly my sessions to 2 hour intervals. but it’s just lately now that I’ve started entertaining this idea of going further and exploring just how much the mistress boyfriend relationship can open doors to a new world and a new way of thinking or new possibilities that I never knew existed before. honestly it’s gotten to the point now where two hour sessions , well … they feel limit capped you know what I mean? If you know you can go to a horse race and you can easily select the winning ticket that will net you a million dollars why on Earth would you ever be happy with winning a hundred bucks? That’s my problem right now, the thing that’s just running through my mind as I sit here giggly excited about what I just finished doing to the guy who walked out of my condo. A guy I just met!
This is exactly what the mistress who preceded me did. After five years she started to venture away from two hour sessions and instead begin exploring the possibilities of a deeper commitment between her and the slave. It led her to retire. And why is that? Well most women think that men are all alpha males. But once you walk a mile in a mistress’s shoes you realize that’s just not true.
The truth of the matter is that well over 80% of the male population hungers for a submissive relationship where they can secretly get down on their knees and devote themselves to a mistress who fully and unequivocally understands exactly what his innermost desires are. I am indeed beyond a shadow of a doubt one of those woman who fully understands what a man is thinking and what a man desires. so much so that it’s funny.
Funny how?
Well no, not funny like that. But funny in that a few psychological techniques when used on a non alpha-male … of which there are many … can influence a guy to do a great many strange and wonderful things he never thought he’d do.
Proof. You’re going to need at least an ounce of proof right?
So here goes… let’s talk about Dave … Dave the slave, the guy who just walked out of my condo a few minutes ago. He had an interesting first date with me, to say the least.
No, there’s no strap on ass fucking description down below at the end of this story, so this isn’t going to a super pornographic snapshot of one of my sessions. Sorry to disappoint. You might however find out how I manipulate you to carry out acts of submission and subtle humiliation. If that interests you, read on 🙂
So let me recount our evening together, but keep in mind that I just met him face to face for the first time at 7pm this evening. It was ten past midnight when I typed in the first word up above. Five hours.
Hmm, how to start? I’ll tell you step by step what happened via dialogue and let you figure things out on your own-assuming you’re good at reading between the lines.
Dave is a peculiar experiment because he is the first person that I made do slave like things … but one who did not come to my door by means of my website. Experience has taught me that you guys are not only freaky smart but are also an investigative lot so I’m not going to tell you from where Dave and I met but let’s just all agree that it was by non-conventional means. You see, these techniques I’ve been using make it all too easy to change the willpower of a man who shows up at my door after reading my blog. I wanted instead to try these techniques on somebody with a clean slate of mind. Basically I was looking for a guy who was really keen to take a super hot girl out on a date and see how far he could push his luck. Before you think that Dave was the first lucky guy that I stumbled upon you should know that there was a selection process in place where I had to painstakingly whittle away at a group of prospective men until I got to a solid handful of the types of males I was looking for. Dave ticked off all the check marks I was looking for so that’s how he got chosen.
I took him to Above Eleven, my favorite hang out joint in the city, yards from my condo – the place is like my home turf and it adds to my confidence looking at each table in the place and remembering who I seduced at each location around the restaurant. After some cagey dialogue … is that the right word for it – cagey? … We were discussing how Thai girls all have a “Sick Water Buffalo ” story to tell , but making fun of the topic like we had been doing via SMS beforehand … it was like a battle of wits , or who could be the most witty about the topic. Fine, let him have his fun. Peacocks think they’re witty and fierce as well … until the wolf attacks.
“So” he said taking the enveloped bill from the waitress and throwing me a sexy “read between the lines” sort of smile, (here it comes I said to myself) “is your place nearby? My hotel is just down the way…”
“You’re not going to fuck me. Do you know how I know that?”
“I wasn’t intendi…”
“Because, Dave, I would have invited you to check out my room about 1/2 hour ago if I wanted to use your cock.” and I said that to him with a stone cold matter-of-fact look across my face.
Faced with a cannonball shot solidly through the stern of the ship, the male contemplates retreat.
“Well you’re direct” he spits out sarcastically.
“Did you?” (Notice the past tense of the question.)
“Did I what?”
“Did you want to fuck me? yes or no , and consider , knowing that I’m direct , that I’d respect a direct answer in return.”
He looked fabergasted and snorted out a laugh, yes snorted , that sound that emits half from your mouth and half through your nose , and one that you instantly regret making because of how piggish it sounds. “Well, that’s , really , uhm, I’ve never met a girl w….”
“Yes or No” I said choosing to suck the whipped cream off my finger from the unfinished desert before us.
A hesitation. A pause. The obvious answer is coming, he just needs a pause to let it seem like it’s not an immediate selfish answer. “Yes” , another pause, “yes of course. You’re beyond hot (see photo above :P). Who wouldn’t? I would have. Obvious right? Does that make you laugh? Do you want to laugh? Are you just digging for a reaction?” (he’s right , I was digging for a reaction, and he gave it to me when he said “would have”)
“Just answer the door for me. You know you’ll do that right?” I said as I reached out to touch his knee firmly .. firm enough that he’d look down to see why I grabbed him. It’s called a misdirection, you’ll understand later on, what I said is the more important thing to focus on.
“Huh?” he stuttered with a blank face.
“You do want a second date, yes?”
“Yes” he laughed. Blinking being the only movement on an otherwise confused and motionless face.
“You’re absolutely sure, given how direct I am?” Another “yes” from his side of the table.
“And you did think before you wanted to fuck me right?”
“Yes” he smiled. “I mean no.” he follwed up, checking himself with a smack on his own knee. “Fuck you’re confusing me.”
“Like I said, it’s not going to happen so don’t worry yourself about it. Just pay the bill and leave the waiter 1 baht for a tip , make sure he sees the tip before you leave the table, I’ll be downstairs waiting.” I winked at him in an ever so sexy way after I told him what to do, leaving him with a feeling of excitement even after giving him a somewhat humiliating task.
Humiliation is such a powerful tool, but even more powerful is the ability to make somebody do something small for you like it’s nothing at all. Ah see, I told you I wouldn’t divulge any of my tricks, but there’s another one. Have you caught them all yet, or are you just reading along blankly? lol
Guys ask me all the time to humiliate them in public. Now in their mind, they have pictures of being ridden like a horse up and down the street covered in green paint with a firecracker dildo firing sparks out of their asshole.
What it is really, talking about humiliation, is a gateway to submissiveness.
I’m asking a man I hadn’t yet met two hours before to now leave a humiliatingly small tip of what would be in your currency one penny, or one pence. Furthermore, I’ve instructed him to make sure the waiter sees the 1 penny tip, something that’s not altogether pleasant to do. It just serves as a distraction really to divert his attention from the bigger submissive act of picking up the bill for me. Which yes, might be something he had intended to do, but my addressing it as an order to him along with the tip suggestion ensures that by the time he’s joined me downstairs that he’s begun his unconscious dive into the rabbit hole of submission.
And what about that – meeting him downstairs. Above Eleven is a rooftop patio bar/restaurant and meeting me on the first floor is not an insignificant thing to have to do. I’d say that out of the 500 or so couples that ate there that evening, we were the only couple to go down the lift seperately.
First and foremost, I’m setting precident. I lead, he follows.
Secondly, I want to see if he questions it at all. Let’s admit it, though it’s a small thing to make him do, it’s still quite rude would you agree? We’re creatures of obedience though, subliminally going along with things people tell us to do. The Milgram experiment is infinitely repeatable if one can assume a presence of authority. Now consider that you guys willingly place the mistress on a pedestal, and that I’m using that power not to execute you with electricity but only to get you to do seemingly trivial things – what do you suppose the per cent of compliance is among you men? Hmmm? See why I wanted a guy who wasn’t aware I am a mistress?
Sure enough, Dave walked out of the elevator to greet me in the foyer with nothing but a sheepish grin. I grinned back. “Did the waiter say anything?” I laughed. “No, but he wasn’t too impressed” he laughed back.
Once I make somebody do a small inconsequential thing for me, it’s ever so easy to make them do something much larger for me later on.
The walk from Above Eleven to my condo is barely a minute, and yet, though I’ve made that short simple walk with hundreds of guys the vast majority are short of breath by the time we hit the lobby of my condominium. I’ve said it many times before in previous stories that I walk briskly and men struggle to keep up with my pace. Well, struggle is a bit over the top , let’s say – men are very aware of the pace they need to maintain to keep up with me at all times when walking with me.
I lead, you follow.
Just this time it’s reinforced by something as simple as walking.
These core months of the hot season leave visitors dripping in sweat trying to keep up with me, and granted it was late evening about 10pm when we reached my condo so it was only 35C , but for most of you guys that’s about a 70C swing in temperature and leaves you in a bit of a mess by the time you’re standing in my living room waiting for me to mercifully turn on the air conditioning. I’m Thai, I don’t sweat. It’s beyond fucking annoying when I have a foot worship guy who wants to smell and lick my “sweaty” feet and I have to basically run a marathon at noon to try and get a bead of sweat to run down my ankle so my feet will be smelly enough for him. But for appearances, it’s a subtle form of humiliation to have guys entering my condo stand in a sweat stained shirt with arms tightly glued to their side so I don’t notice the pool of sweat growing from their armpits.
Meanwhile I’m fresh as a peach standing before you – ordering you to the bathroom to clean yourself up in the shower.
“You’re a mess, go grab a shower and don’t come out until you’re presentable” I said to Dave laughing at him as he ran off to the guest bathroom.
The suavest of men frequently drop the line “I’m just gonna hop in the shower” as their ice breaker line – especially the male model types. Much like Tom Cruise did in Top Gun , it’s a power move, and one that needs to be stolen from them. There’s a difference between taking a shower … and being sent to the showers.
https://youtu.be/Ug-KE5A7xyc
Also, clothes give a man power. I would argue that a woman in a business suit can’t compare power wise to a man in a suit – a suit connotes power. What we wear in general connotes who we are, and men tend to come to see me very well dressed. So removing them of their clothes is a simple tactic I use to strip them of a layer of their power.
Think about this, how many naked girls have you had stand in your living room in your life? 10? 50? Did I hear a couple of you playboys just yell out 100?
Me? 2,000, ya about that. Guys not girls … you wish I had 2000 naked girls stand in my living room … you’d all want to be roommates with me.
Guess how many guys have walked out of my shower in nothing but a towel with raging hard dicks at full mast? Zero. Nada. None.
There are few if any social situations that have a man standing naked covered in only a towel before a fully dressed girl. Even if a guy has been in that situation before a couple or more times, it doesn’t compare to the thousands of times I’ve commanded guys to stand in that position before me. If not humiliating or emasculating, then it certainly is awkward. Sometimes it’s all three. Whatever the case, it’s another layer of power transference from the male to me.
Now David, give him credit, chose the route the sort of states “hey do you want to see this impressive thing I have hiding under this towel?” Not thinking that a cock to me is like a pussy to a gynecologist. There’s the very rare dude like Dave who – and though I’ve never seen it with my own eyes, I’m sure it’s how they do it – they masturbate in the bathroom before coming out so their cock is aroused. I know cuz they all turn the sink on for a prolonged period of time to hide the “fap fap fapping” sound as they pound their wet dick to attention.
“If you want to show it off so much drop the towel.”
See, pause for a sec … at this moment in 99% of all these situations the guy standing in a towel in my living room is there because he thinks it’s expected of him as this slave / mistress situation is being played out as previously agreed upon through countless emails. Dave on the other hand chose to strut out of my bathroom without dressing himself back up in private, so there was a lot of assumption going on in his mind still with regards to getting laid.
Never underestimate the male’s desire to fuck. That’s one thing I’ve taught myself repeatedly. Like I said, I had done some pretty crafty work beforehand making sure that the guy I chose for the date was secretly submissive, or at least was the type that could be coerced into submissiveness. So it was kind of a curious thing to see a guy I saw as submissive choosing to walk out in my brown towel.
“You want me to drop my towel, are you sure?” he said.
“Well you purposely chose not to get dressed so that’s obviously your end game.”
“I’ll get dressed then if you want.”
“No. Drop the towel” I said with a tone that sat somewhere between curiousness and a command. And voila! Dude dropped my towel like Dorothy pulling back the curtain to reveal the Wizard of Oz.
The worst thing for a magician performing before a sold out audience is to make the big reveal for his ultimate trick “Taaaa Daaaaa” … and have people stare blankly and unimpressed. Dave, just as the many before him, got quickly introduced to how narrow the chasm is when making the leap from cockiness to full vulnerability. Nothing is more vulnerable than nakedness while in the presence of somebody fully clothed … and who has no intentions of removing any garments whatsoever.
Have you seen the Black Mirror episode Hang the DJ? I saw it on my Netflix, it’s one of my favorite episodes. There’s a great quasi-bdsm scene in it where the girl emasculates the guy by ordering him to strip naked. Too bad the premise of the show doesn’t allow them to explore the situation further, I for one could build an entire episode on the mind-fuckery that can go on with such a command :
Herein lays my problem lately. When presented with a situation where I could jump a cute guy and fuck his brains out … or fuck with his mind instead , I’ll always choose to exercise my imagination instead. There was absolutely no difference between the scene which played out above and the scene which unfolded in my living room with Dave. She chose to jump him, and if I chose to go down the road of writing about why that episode grips me so vividly, so starkly, I’d be writing for days on end to explain the labyrinth of thought processes going on in my head these days. For those of you intrigued by how deeply this episode affects me I invite you to watch it and send me an email with your theories on why it does so.
But for now, let’s just say that the “rules of the game” and my thorough understanding of those “rules” as they apply regionally here in Bangkok force me to exercise intelligence over desire.
Dave, well I had him on my short list because he was fucking hot and my cruel imagination often toys with me by forcing me to play these games with men I so very much desire to taste. So having a handsome boy naked in my living room does present a certain set of challenges to temptation. Sad for me that I never give into those temptations, but it’s because I don’t that I have such a deep understanding of men. Any of that make sense? I’m trying not to be cryptic, it just takes forever to focus on one small thought line and get across what I’m trying to say, but there’s a lightning storm of synapses firing off , and I’d love it if just one of you understood the how and the why of all those thoughts.
So yes, there was this fleeting synaptic thought that shot through my mind about how nice it would be to fuck this boy’s brains out and cum all over his thighs, but an instant later I snapped back into my purposeful self and on the flip side of a second I saw him as nothing more than a lab rat for my experiment.
We had had nothing but drinks at Above Eleven, earlier that afternoon I had a vigorous workout at the gym, and before that I had fallen asleep after a night of answering emails so I couldn’t properly remember the last time I had eaten food. Suddenly, while sitting before this naked guy, it was just as if my brains ran quite gently out of my head and left me with a vacuum, which made it impossible to concentrate on his pole of excitement and think of something worthy to say. Right there and then I took a few moments to flip through my Food Panda app and ordered a crab dinner from just down the street.
“You’re gonna sit there like that and watch me eat crab.”
“You’re that hungry huh?” he said with a tone of disillusionment in his voice, perhaps he was registering how lost his hopes were of getting pussy that night.
“Yup. Oh and , you’re gonna answer the door like that to pay the delivery guy.” (where have you heard me say that before)
“I am?” he asked rhetorically.
“I see it on the porno sites you guys watch all the time … girls answering the door naked to disturb the pizza delivery guy. So instead, you’re gonna disturb whomever knocks on that door.”
“You’re insane you know that?” he said while looking down behind him for my brown towel.
“Don’t. I like you naked. You lost your hard on though, sad no?”
“I think he’s just massively confused to be honest.”
“You confused yourself. I told you quite frankly at the restaurant you have zero chance of getting into my pussy.”
“Can I get dressed now?”
“If you’re going home, yes of course. Otherwise, no.”
In poker that’s calling someone’s bluff. With a Mistress it’s called shit or get off the pot. Go home if you wish, I’ve announced I’m totally disinterested in him and giving Dave the option to leave reinforces that. But if he stays, he must do so naked, and that choice reinforces the submissive circumstance I’ve put him in. Or that he’s put himself in, whatever. I use this technique on guys wavering on whether or not to throw themselves into being submissive near the start of the session. Dave will choose to stay just as most guys have done in the past, and he’ll remain naked because … remember … we are conditioned since birth to being told what to do. I have a lot of respect for guys who have said “fuck this I’m outta here” when I’ve put them in similar spots, they have the wonderful ability to think for themselves at crucial moments, a skill set that is rare to find.
Alright, so the delivery guy takes about 30 minutes to knock on my door, that’s a lot of time to fill in what is becoming an increasingly unusual situation for Dave.
This is why I love testing myself with these social situations because it keeps me on my toes. If this was a session and he was in my condo, well there’s this expectancy of what role to play out , and there’s an implicit shared thought that I’m going to lead by action. Something that I have tried to experiment with in my two hour sessions – but with less than optimal results as this “value / time” relationship exists – mostly in my mind I think. That’s why I’m really moving toward the mistress/boyfriend relationship experience which can be an afternoon or a couple of days, it frees me from the tick tick tick of the seconds rolling by. The amount of mind-fuckery I can do on you is directly proportional to the amount of time we can spend together.
Given the absence of my concern for time, I’m free to do whatever I choose and so with Dave – because he’s unaware I’m a Mistress, I wanted to introduce that uncomfortable silence that makes new couples feel on edge.
I’m just adding layers to the lasagna, and the last thing he wants while sitting there naked in front of me fully clothed is to have nothing but the silence of the condo consume the situation.
Meanwhile, I’m perfectly happy to fuck around with my phone and keep a surly scowl on my face supposedly due to the hunger situation.
You can only run half way into a forest, at the mid way point you begin running out. I could almost hear his brain thinking out loud as the inevitability of the delivery guys’ arrival approached.
When I heard the “ding dong” of the doorbell I admit I laughed. I shouldn’t have. Would have been better if I told him to go do his duty straight faced. But maybe that added a dash more humiliation to the whole thing with him knowing I found this amusing. I guess there’s both ways to play it. The funny thing is , and I totally wasn’t expecting it, was that I think the problems with paying a delivery boy naked were much less than the problems of sitting there naked without me talking to him. To get up and grab his wallet was something he did almost out of relief.
Which goes a long way in debunking the need for Mistress’s around the world to play dress up in their scary leather & latex uniforms. Subtracting clothes goes a lot further psychologically than adding clothes.
Anyways, he was gung ho to answer the door naked for me, I just had to say go after I finished laughing. He’d been told twice already that it was something he was going to do.
I got Dave a plate and set it before him on the coffee table and then instructed him to go wash his hands. “You just jacked off in the bathroom, go clean your hands before touching your food.”
Another order. Another act of compliance. They’re small but they add up, like turning the pages of a book and looking back somewhat later to see how much you’ve read. What was not compliant though is that he came back from the bathroom fully dressed again.
“Did I say you could get dressed?”
“I wasn’t going to sit naked and watch you eat.”
“That’s fine, you can leave now.”
This time, a very long moment of silence passed.
“I’m not sure I’m all that comfortable staying anyways … to be honest” then he went into a recount of how well he thought we were getting along and that he’s having a hard time reading if I’m joking or serious. “I mean, I’ve never met a Thai girl quite like you, you’re not like any girl I’ve ever met.” He shifted his feet side to side, took a moment to rub at his hair with his right hand. “I like you, that’s the thing.”
“I like you too” I said with a smile. “Still, there’s the door, see yourself out” and I picked up a fork in the kitchen to dig into my fried crab rice.
“So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
And he left. I think he said “bloody hell” once the door swung closed behind him. Anti climactic huh? Well like I said, this was a look into my thoughts, not a recount of the occasional miracle session I pull off. It was important he left under my terms, most dates don’t end with the man being commanded to leave. To his credit, it’s 5:30 am now and still no sms from him. It’ll come in the morning though, I guarantee it. It’ll say something like “blah blah blah … wonderful evening … blah blah blah … would love to see you again.”
Do you want me to see him again? Since it’s safe to say he’s not aware of this blog, we can fuck with him a bit. Send me an email telling me if you enjoyed this little peep into my mind, and if you’d like me to see Dave again – give me a challenge. Tell me something you want me to make him do , and I’ll see if I can pull it off … and hopefully with some proof to go along with it.
I’m off to bed, good night all.
xx
[one_half][formcrafts id=’10805′ name=’Book A Session’ align=’left’][/formcrafts][/one_half] [one_half_last][formcrafts id=’20566′ name=’Session With Wael’ align=’left’][/formcrafts][/one_half_last]
I haven’t been hiding the fact I’ve been pretty damn lonely since returning back from Europe in January, to the point where I’ve found myself doing something I’ve never done as a mistress at any point in the last five years which is inviting somebody to stay longer.
It wasn’t something I even planned to do , I just spontaneously blurted out after a rather nice session “if you liked it so much, why not stay and let me show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.”
I suppose I just wanted company, the lonely side of my brain would justify such a request as being such. But there’s been a growing devilish part of my personality that’s fully controlled by the devious side of my brain, one that seeks to seduce a man to such an extent that he would become nothing more than a willing pet for his mistress. It’s the side of the job that Jaa warned me about , the one that consumed her and led her to the self prescribed seclusion she entombed herself with now.
You see, here’s what happens when one starts down the road of becoming a mistress. At the beginning I was told that there were not only men out there that would lay down at my feet and do whatever I bid them to do , but that such men made up the majority of the population. Then I’d wander into my first sessions quite aware that I was not just making eye contact but actually trying to look through the dude’s skull and into his psyche somehow because I was clueless as to how to extract this subservient personality from the guy. I had acknowledged such a personality existed in each and every man I saw, but the one thing endearing to all submissive men is the ability to sense bullshit.
They all knew I didn’t have the “it” factor. Like remember the story line from The Matrix where Morpheus kept telling Neo to wake up and realize that he is “the one” and it wasn’t until the end of the movie where he became self aware of what he was and what he could do? Well that’s kind of how it is when you jump into this mistress life , I had the qualities, background, personality to be a mistress but lack of experience was holding me back.
It’s kind of cute that all you guys were booking sessions to try and help me become self aware back in the early days, each and every one of you stepping into the role of Morpheus so this cute and a little too sweet girl could soon activate full mistress mode instead of seeing it in drips and drops during your sessions.
Between then and say – last year there’s all these sub levels I passed through , each as significant as the last but all building toward what for all intensive purposes is the top of the Mistress skyscraper – self actualization. Not the penthouse , I’m talking the actual top of the skyscraper where controlling men has become such an afterthought that it’s hardly significant any longer , it just is. While there are many variations of how to control a man they are very much one in the same and for the longest time it seemed like there was nowhere left to grow.
You could measure the change in the number of “hot” stories I was writing about sessions over the years. In the beginning I was banging out a story a day almost , and that became a story a week , and then a story a month. Every day since the beginning I get an email saying something along the lines of “holy shit ____ , that was mind blowing, the best two hours of my life , wow, you are amazing” to which my mental reply has recently always been “ya for you it was mind blowing, for me … not so much.”
I’ve been thinking for the longest time “where do I go with this from here?”
Last year was all one massive life plan to move out of Bangkok and start over in Europe using my talents as a Mistress to settle in nicely over there – and then winter hit me kind of like this …
So after all that preparation , after all those German classes , after all those squats and step climbing sessions with my trainer , all that work milking corruption to get two visas to a country I had no right getting a visa to … I found myself right back where I started.
So I’ve been sitting in my condo since then thinking … “what was the point of that? This is where I started. I took the longest possible route to get right back to where I started in the first place” …
https://youtu.be/d6wv7YhJsN0
So after a February that had me mostly depressed and more lonely than usual I began doing something I never really do – accepting post session invites to go hang out with the guy I just gave a crippling set of blue balls to.
but I’m not seeing these guys because I want to date them I’m seeing these guys after my session because I want to know how long they can hang with me before I dry them absolutely crazy. the answer that question and everybody ends up with “not long at all.” because I’m just not someone who could have a boyfriend very easily.
it’s something that just comes with the job. it’s hard to explain.
you’d have to be someone who controls the opposite sex 24 hours a day for the last decade to really try and understand how I perceive men.
And therein lies the problem. I have such a bizarre lifestyle that at this point in time it’s the only lifestyle that makes me happy.
When I go out with a guy I’m more or less trying to lose them. To be frank – I’ve ended up cutting about 99% of all guys who try to talk with me. in reality only about 1% of the male population can make the cut when it comes to being able to hang out with me.
but now here’s the thing that really excites me.
when it comes to submissive men 99% of those 99% that I reject love trying to be the one percent that I keep does that make sense at all?
and no matter how much I reject them they keep trying to come back and improve themselves Reinventing themselves or making them a better mirror for who I want to perceive them as being.
and I get a good giggle at seen them trying to crawl back up the stairs to the same level that I’m at only to be met with the foot of my boot that pushes them tumbling back down to the bottom once again, because I know they’ll just pick themselves back up and begin the ascent once again,
and the ones who don’t I just couldn’t give a f*** about anyways because for everyone that walks away a hundred more waiting in line.
So Joe, a 26 year old blonde hair guy from London England asked for thep rivilege of seeing me in the middle of the afternoon last week and afterwards he asked me if he could tag along with me for the day. I never see guys in the afternoon but my pedicure until 7 p.M. So I had to switch with the guy and see him earlier than intended.
after the session I told him sure you can tag along with me but you’re not going to last more than an hour.
why he asked
because one thing will break first either my tolerance for you or your tolerance for me… and if none of those break then probably your wallet will cry ercy before the evening is through.
since Joe I’ve been on five consecutive dates with guys trying to woo their mistress and Joe is the only one to make it past dinner.
the second guy brought me to a cheap Japanese restaurant in terminal 21, I left him standing at the curb while I hopped into a cab a minute later.
the third guy let me order whatever I want while he ordered down to save himself the cost of an expensive dinner. he was cut immediately thereafter
the fourth guy tried to order for me. see ya
the fifth guy tipped the equivalent of what would be $2 in the United States of America. he was at home alone pumping his dick 20 minutes later wondering what the f*** happened.
but Joe took me to an Argentinian Steakhouse. an hour later and 10,000 Baht lighter he was allowed to continue on the date.
he bought himself another hour because he waited without fidgeting as I got my nails done at my pedicurist and was even nice enough to go to Starbucks to buy me an iced cappuccino while I was being attended to.
he footed the bill for my nails. good boy he was learning quickly.
we went to see the movie Black Panther at 9 p.M. And because he was smart enough to buy us VIP tickets in the very back row I made sure that he had no recollection of the movie whatsoever because I played with his dick for the entire 2 hours. he wanted to go relieve himself of urine in the washroom but I denied him the opportunity to do so because I know it was not urine that he wanted to relieve himself of. the poor boy was about to burst because I left him hanging in the session hours earlier and it ordered him since a week before to teach himself without cumming. so the boy was going on seven or eight days without having had an orgasm.
I couldn’t care less
in fact had one of my hot model lovers been in town that day I would have brought him back to my bedroom, chained him to the wall and made him watch as I got my ass pounded by a hot supermodel boy right in front of his very eyes.
thenI would have sent the supermodel boy home and made this poor guy sleep in my bed upside down massaging my feet until I slept.
besides it’s nice not having to worry about getting up to go pee in the middle of the night. super convenient to have a mouth waiting right there to gobble up all my juice.
and if he had the nerve to spill a dropin the morning I wouldn’t be able to walk for a couple of days thereafter,
but none of that went down instead we just went back to my condo and I let him give me a massage on my sofa.
that’s whereI let him sleep right there on the sofa all night long while I retired to my bed.
as you know I live on a vampire sleep schedule staying up all through the night and opting to sleep in the daytime. annoying to have a boy sleepover in my condo I just find it robs me of my freedom to do what I want. so what about 4 a.M. I walked into the kitchen in the nude to pour myself some orange juice and when I turned around I found him sitting up on the sofa with a rock hard dick staring at me. I walked over to him and stood before him completely naked with just the Moonlight shining through my balcony window.
I told him he had 60 seconds to pump his cock and cumright in front of me and to let it drip on the floor.
then I made him clean up his mess with his own feet and dropped his shoes right in front of them then kicked himout of my condo right there and then.
I ended up watching Netflix until well past breakfast time and when I went to bed I didn’t wake up until just a few minutes before 6 p.M. The next evening.
I was in a scramble to get to my email because I knew I had a session coming that night for 7 p.M. And I hadn’t bothered to check to see if he had confirmed or not.
it’s sitting there at the top of my emails was one from Joe and I couldn’t resist the urge to take a peek and see what his thoughts were of the previous day. He had written:
“that was the most amazing 24 hours of my life. at this point I would do absolutely anything to give up my current life just so I could be your boyfriend and experience that day in and day out. is this something you would consider?”
yes it is
it’s very much something I would consider
I told him so
then I went and tried the same type of date with 5 other guys and they all failed miserably
guys who need to check their Wallets on a minute to minute or hour to our basis can’t hang with me.
most professional business man can’t handle the fact that I make what they earn as a monthly salary in less than a week. that’s life isn’t it most people are hung up on money trying to solve their financial problems. money isn’t something I’ve thought about for the past 5 years.
I can buy whatever I want I never look at a price tag.
but the point is I expect the guy to buy it for me.
and if he doesn’t … he’s gone
in fact I have no qualms whatsoever about hog-tying a guy back in my condo and leaving him there unfed for the entire day while I take his credit card and cash on hand and go for an all afternoon shopping spree.
pretty f***** up way of thinking huh?
you don’t even know the start of it
do you want to know what my ultimate Fantasy is?
in fact, let’s not call it a fantasy. let’s instead call it an inevitable reality that I’m heading towards.
instead of one man I want a harem of men.
all at my beck and call.
all living Under One Roof
all there to serve me.
all competing for the honor of serving me best. while living with the fear that I may discard them from my life at any given moment.
I’m pretty sure this is where my life is heading towards,
I just can’t have a normal relationship any longer. I don’t see a relationship where the balance of power is 50/50 as something that is viable.
relationships are a zero-sum game. someone holds all the power and someone holds none of it.
isn’t that what most relationships devolve into anyways?
they start off with this grandiose idea of equality. but it all ends up in s***
But like most things in life… what the general public perceives as being the way to do things is horribly wrong. instead the only truth is a truth of economics. the law of supply and demand. hot girls like me are in very high demand. the supply of women who have a mistress personality is extremely small.
the demand for men wanting a mistress girlfriend is ungodly High.
so why would I settle for anything less.
so here’s my proposition to you.
there’s a chance each and everyone of you can see me as something more than a mistress in your life. you’re welcome to try.
so when you see on my form that there is a three hour and four hour session that “includes dinner” the truth is there’s a possibility for much more than that. ask yourself, is that REALLY what you want?
do you really want to know what it’s like to have a mistress girlfriend
do you really want to live day in and day out knowing that there’s an equal chance every morning to be loved and or humiliated that day?
is a life of servitude something you really want?
cuz it’s not like taking a wedding vow and saying you’re going to marry the person forever when really you know a couple years down the line You’ll both be sitting in a divorce lawyers office signing papers that lead to a mutual agreement of how to properly end the relationship.
it’s a bit of a misnomer saying that a three-hour session with me is 10,000
on a good day at very well could be
on a bad day it could very well be over 20
bad day for you that is not for me
and if you’re someone who considers that bad then I really don’t have the time of day for you anyway… and you’ll find that out soon enough.
I had a lover once who had to go to work well before I would wake up every morning. I’d wake up in his Penthouse hours later after he had gone and every morning sitting on the kitchen counter was 10,000 Baht in cash left there for me to go shopping. some days I would use it but most days I wouldn’t. important thing was that he knew to leave it there.
on the morning that I woke up… it was a Saturday morning… and saw nothing on the kitchen counter… it was the last day I ever saw him. he assumed that because I never spent the money that the gesture wasn’t appreciated.
it’s not that it wasn’t appreciated… it’s that it was expected. and the moment he failed to reach my expectations I was gone.
is there… Possibly
… possibly a man… who can reach my expectations perpetually?
because if he doesn’t show up soon… I’m this close… to starting my own Harem of men. lol
xx
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