Having the personality of a Mistress is like having a flawed super hero power.
It’s like having the ability to fly – but at an altitude of only 1 foot off the ground.
Or like having the ability to run super fast – without the ability whatsoever to stop.
I, like a super hero, have the ability to control men – yet I repel them.
C’est la vie.
In actuality, they repel themselves. Dave certainly did, wouldn’t you agree? Dave wanted Tinder Pussy and instead got Tinder Humiliation and no doubt if he too has a blog I’m being compared to a demonic lamb in it. I’ve moved on from Dave, or vice versa – fair enough, but I’m indeed going to keep writing about these Mistress Girlfriend Experiences because they draw both the ire and the praise of many and my inbox is overflowing with comments, so that’s a good thing.
You’ll have to wait for a short while though, today was just a normal sweet innocent Tease & Denial session that I performed and the worst thing I did was make an old man throw up his lunch – more on that later. Thursday, Friday and Saturday are the next Mistress Girlfriend sessions so hopefully something juicy will come out of one or more of those and I’ll have a good “story” to write. Why do you guys put the word “story” in quotes like that when you email me? Nearly everybody does it.
I love the guys who act as blog police and write me demanding photo proof “or it never happened.” So on the times that I do have such evidence, like Dave and the Cambodia trip, and send it to them, they’re all like “oh shit, you’re really like this in real life then?”
Well duh.
Also, since you guys both love and rage that I’m fucking around with normal non-submissive guys and writing about it – I’m gonna keep doing it. It’s tons easier to write about things that happened when I know the guy whom I did them with isn’t reading everything I write the next day. Ergo – I’ve adjusted my dating profile to be a bit more combative and I’m hoping to reel in a shark sized rebellious type who would agree to meet me if only to “put a girl like me in my place.” Hey, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, so I’m going big time asshole fishing on this one.
So, since I’m trying to get back to writing more often, the only FemDom / BDSM type thing I have to write about was the unfortunate time crunch I was in today – and the consequences of said crunch.
They say there’s give and take in every relationship. It’s true. I give you my ass to kiss … and I take your money for the pleasure of doing so. #femdom , #assworship , #sexy , #mistress , #bdsm pic.twitter.com/Gk6KyrTxJm
— ThaiGoddessJaa (@FemDom_Khaleesa) March 18, 2018
See I go to the gym every afternoon – like religiously. Not so much because I’m a fitness freak but more so because I pay an ungodly amount to have a personal trainer push me to hell and back every day – and I let him do that because I desperately need somebody to talk to every day. I’m not going to go buy a cat or a bird to combat loneliness because I’d end up talking to it – often , and I’m quite sure that’s the first step down the path of future insanity.
I get there about 3pm , finish up about 5 and most nights I meander my way back home slowly to begin a 7pm session. Except, I spent so much time with Dave late last week that I didn’t properly converse in my emails , there wasn’t the same banter going back and forth and it resulted in the beginning of this week not being booked.
Yesterday, Monday was the first full day after Dave and I spent it pretty much curled up on the sofa watching movies by myself until I’d drift off to sleep , then I’d wake up , grab some water and watch some more movies. Rinse and repeat all day until 3am rolls around and collapse indefinitely in my bed. I hadn’t booked my personal trainer so I didn’t go to the gym yesterday which meant that come this morning, I hadn’t talked to anyone or anything but the walls of my condo for a good 36 hours. I had to get out before the walls started talking back so I was glad to get to the gym a bit early today at 2pm.
Half way through the two hours he puts me through I get a ten minute break and I often use that time to just guzzle water and walk around outside on the patio.
But today, I had this dread of what I was going to do after my gym session was over. My Mistress Girlfriend session doesn’t start until tomorrow evening and I sure as hell didn’t want to go home and engage in a wall conversation for the next 27 hours so I hunted up and down my email looking for a hint of a session much the same way a drug addict upends his domicile looking for a misplaced bag of coke.
Bingo, I found one. I quickly sms’d him back. Humor, small talk, charm, wit … blah blah blah … and just as my gym coach began tapping his watch at me I got the guy to confirm. Only , he could only see me at 4pm. Well my gym didn’t end until 4pm so I asked him if he could chill out in the condo lobby and I’d pick him up as I arrived shortly after him. He agreed so long as it wasn’t later than 4:15.
I usually walk home, takes me 15 minutes but I surrendered to taking the motorcycle taxi even though most of them hate my guts. (I talk back to the ones who give me attitude, which is pretty much all of them.)
Now, listen.
On a good day – and by good day , I mean – on a day where I’m allowed to stand in the hot shower and suds myself up with soap for 20 minutes and scrub everywhere – on a day like that … my pussy smells like a small barnyard animal.
That’s a good day.
On a bad day …. well.
Not having showered all day (I assumed I would shower at the gym) and having worked out for a full two hours doing squats (imagine my pussy going up and down, up and down, dripping sweat out of her) , and sitting on an oven of a motorcycle seat thereafter for the ride home – THAT qualifies as a bad day.
So I can’t imagine the amount of stank that was being emitted from the exhaust hole of my ‘puss , but I bet it was ‘Ludicrous Bad’
Now poor old Jimmy Hoffa , all he wanted was a sweet sample of my Tease & Denial technique , being a first timer and all.
Oh and another reason I don’t do last minute email on my phone like I did is that … I miss the details of the session request. Small details like, oh , that the dude is 72 fucking years old.
Now I don’t know about you and what defines your idea of the word humiliation , but for me it’s having a 72 year old dude waiting on the lobby sofa with the security guard asking him just who he’s waiting for – and into the lobby pops me.
“Hi , ya, I have a thing for granddads, they make my pussy burn with fire” – is not the thing I want to be telling the security dude.
I basically scoop Pops up by his arm and literally run him to the elevator. Then once in my room I ran him right into the shower – I’m mortally terrified of ‘old man smell’ . It’s sometimes so bad , it’s as if you took a decaying bottle of Hai Karate and mixed it with a decaying bottle of Old Spice – that shit doesn’t come off – ever.
I can just see the moral police emails flying into my inbox tonight since I’m not gonna delete that. “How dare you disqualify old men from your sessions just cuz they’re old.”
Ya well, I don’t see you guys going all pussy licking hero on any old age home grannies, so until you start digging your tongues into some decaying cunt , I’m allowed to forfeit my old man sessions to Wael.
Poor Wael.
I send her all the Indian guys, and they absolutely love her. She even cooks Indian dinners for them.
I send her all the old guys, and she’s best friends with all of them on Line.
I send her all the out call sessions and she doesn’t just go to their hotel she takes ’em out for a tour of the town afterwards.
I don’t get that girl at all, she loves everything and everybody, and she’s been jaded more than me.
So anyways, Pops comes out of the shower already checking his watch because he has a dinner with friends meeting he has to attend come 6pm sharp and it’s already 4:30.
Ok now, I don’t know if any of you guys have ever done a heavy heavy squat workout , but if you have then you know that the after burn in the quads is something awful. There are only a few comfortable positions one can sit in immediately after such a workout that are at all comfortable. For instance, in a Tease & Denial session I’ll normally sit beside the guy leaning over his dick , my arm resting on his thighs , while my legs are folded out behind me mermaid style.
https://t.co/ZFBtBjyPMn#superhero ? Check. Loner? Check. #Seductress ? Check. Dual Life? double check. pic.twitter.com/I8oZ7GCF4H
— ThaiGoddessJaa (@FemDom_Khaleesa) February 22, 2016
That position is uncomfortable as hell on squat day. Normally I come home from a session like that and lay prone on the sofa while I watch Netflix movies for the evening, but in this case I had to make this guy lose his mind – and make myself comfortable to do so at the same time.
Well, the only way I could last an hour and a half without moving would be to sit squatting on my calves while my ass rests on his face. That way I get a nice stretch in my quads which feels great.
There I am squatting on this dude’s face leaning over his chest so I can get his dick hard with my oiled up hand , when the guy starts kicking violently.
“What the fuck guy , calm the fuck down or you’re getting your balls slapped.”
“hmphumphraughummphf” he said something like that. I dunno, it was pretty muffled.
I get back to stroking him for another minute or so and the guy starts trying to keel to the left and back to the right like a boat rocking in the water.
“It’s not a water bed, stay still like you’re on a calm ocean.”
“hmphumphraughummphf”
More stroking. This time I’m reaching over and cupping the bottom of his balls, bringing them up over his cock and pushing them into his shaft , letting them slide down as my hands follow suit down the pole of his shaft.
Then more fucking kicking from him.
And more bucking , well as much as a 72 year old man can buck with me sitting on his face.
Suddenly, like a fish flopping in the sand , removed from it’s watery habitat, the guy somehow pushes himself deep into my mattress – which in itself is quite a feat as he’s at most 60kg – but sure enough he finds a way to bend my mattress like he’s bending space and time. Then he begins to do this fish move down the bed and pops out from under my underwear covering my pussy … and continues to flop down toward the end of the bed.
His feet hit the floor, he turns left, then right surveying the bedroom , and with his hand covering his mouth he darts – yes darts … into my ensuite bathroom where he promptly tosses up today’s lunch and breakfast into my personal porcelain god.
I wait until he emerges some two or three minutes later and I say nice and slow, ‘oh … my … god’ the way Janice used to say it on Friends.
“Mam” he says, “I’m sorry but your pussy … it’s something awful.”
“My pussy?” I say looking down at her like she’s the cutest most innocent thing in the world.
“It…it … it’s like nothing I’ve ever smelled before.
I start doing some addition in my head, adding up the hours and activities since I last showered and the total I arrived at , well it kind of agreed with his assessment of my pussy’s stench. All I could do was shake my head and nod in agreement with him.
“Would you mind if I just wanked off in front of you instead?” he asked.
I didn’t even reply with words , I just motioned with my hands like they were holding a bowl of soup and pushed them towards him in a “go for it” type of manner.
So , yup, Gramps starts beating his meat in front of me , only … he can’t get it hard enough to cum. Not for lack of effort too , the guy was literally beating it using hydraulic sledgehammer strokes , whap…whap…whap…whap…whap…whap , well over 2000 strokes a minute. I seriously thought the guy was going to have a stroke right there in my living room by how beat red he was turning.
Then, I dunno why, I guess as if to encourage the coronary heart attack , I took my panties off and stuffed them in his mouth much to his utter horror.
I suppose he was more entranced by staring (gawking?) at my 30 yo innocent little shaved pussy standing in front of him … and less distracted by the sweat and juice soaked panties dangling from his mouth. But it worked.
Fucking guy exploded like a champ , his cum shot out like it was shot from a cannon and landed in a pile of white goo just in front of my bathroom door.
Then he shook, convulsed, and got some leakage to spill out onto his hand – so I threw him a towel.
After a moment of silence he turned to me and said “that was awesome!!!!” He sucked in a huge gulp of air and continued on “I haven’t cum like that in ages and ages.”
“That’s … that’s .. um, great , although a bit unreal I must say.”
“I have to get to dinner” he said looking at his watch like the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.
“You have a toilet bowl of puke to clean up first , followed by that pile of Ghostbuster’s slime you left on the floor, then you can shower and leave.”
“Yes mistress. Yes mistress.” he said twice before scurrying off to my bathroom.
And taa daa … that was my session I had just now.
Wonderful huh?
You can’t make this shit up , stuff like that happens every week, and it’s fun as hell. Compared to talking to walls or forcing myself to watch Green Lantern (it’s so bad I can only watch 10 mins of the movie at a time), I much prefer seeing what the world of bdsm / femdom has to offer up for an experience every night.
I guess my pussy’s superhero power is : The ability to make a man cum via smell alone , while also having that same ability make him throw up.
xx