I wanted to get laid this week. I thought I was going to get laid. The pussy trap , I thought, had been set properly, and it was just a matter of reeling the shark in , ie: get him back to my new condo.
But I didn’t get laid, somewhere along the line I fucked up because the shark swam away.
Ya you read that right, once the metaphors have been tossed in the toilet it reads as such : “the hot dude didn’t want to fuck me.”
So let’s put on our nerd slayer super sleuth dectective’s Fedora hat , turn up the collar on our Private Eye style raincoat , and slither back into the shadows with me as we dissect just what went wrong last night.
When you’ve spent nearly a decade as a Mistress, both a dominator and seductress of men – certain personality traits subconsciously float to the surface like tiny champagne bubbles. Have too many of those bubbles pop and fizz around a normal gentleman and his instincts will no longer lay dormant.
That’s what happened last night for in just being “me” I set off too many ‘male alarms’ on a TinderMale (basic boring unsophisticated boring guy) and it took a conversation with Wael and her date , back at my condo to realize all the things I did – which a normal girl wouldn’t do.
It was a double date, me and my first date with a guy called Ian were to meet up with Wael and one of my other submissive guys who begged me to be Wael’s ‘date’ so he could feel like a cuckold at dinner.
He had been warned to sit quietly , chime in when necessary, but never to drop a converstion hint about my Mistress life.
It was Alex, Wael’s dinner companion, who caught on back at the condo that I was flustered, hyper, and somewhat beside myself.
“You really liked him, huh?” he said.
“No” I replied as i kicked off my shoes violently and watched them fly high into the air of my cathedral like living roomm, “I just wanted to fuck him” and I glanced up the 30 foot staircase leading to my bedroom in the clouds of my 38th floor condo.
“umm no, that wasn’t going to happen” he said boldly.
See the cool thing about guys who play the part of the submissive is that they’re quite tuned in to both how normal interactions between men and women go down , and how they unfold from a dom/sub perspective. You guys are like superman and Clark Kent , all observing and all knowing , just sucking in this excess information human interactions are presenting you with because that’s your hidden superpower. Color me jealous.
“Why what did I do wrong? I asked.
“Oh, plenty” said superman , quite smugly, back at me.
Then he started firing off rapid style questions and answers like we were on a game show.
“Did you choose that restaurant or did he?”
“Did he present an alternative place?”
“Did you insist on your restaurant?”
“Did you set the meeting time?”
“Did you instruct him where to meet you?”
“Of course , I….”
“Did you arrive first?”
“Ya I always….”
“Because Wael , you and me were waiting for him on the chairs outside the place for 5 minutes remember?”
“Do you remember what you did when he arrived?”
To that question I paused. It’s true, I demand punctuality. My uncle, when I was sent to live with him taught me three rules to live by. Arrive 15 minutes early. Do more than you’re asked to do. Stay late, and be the last one to leave.
So naturally I was the first to arrive, 15 minutes before anyone else because that’s what I’ve been conditioned to do.
The problem is that tardiness is laughed off with a joke or silently tolerated by most women, whereas I , ummm, am more verbal when displeased.
“I told him he was late , maybe in a mean tone is all , right?” I said, questioning my actions.
“and?” Alex probed further as he comfortably put his feet on my coffee table , obviously enjoying this dissection of my mannerisms. Noted, but – next session he’s going to pay for putting his feet up like that without asking.
“And, um, nothing” but I bit my cheek as I replied because I was thinking there probably was “something” else I did which Alex no doubt had detected with his superpowers.
“You pinched his chin, Italian style, and firmly too.”
I laughed. “So?”
Alex laughed in return. “So .. that moment was your first time meeting him, ya?”
Aw fuck. True, we had only texted until that point. Ok so maybe pinching a new guy by the chin in disgust isn’t as normal as a firm hello-hug , but he arrived late dammit!!!
I was intrigued though, “what else, anything else?”
“Oh, tons.” he smiled and offered a gesture of his hand that had “get the fuck out of here, are you kidding me” message attached to it.
My eyes looked skyward, searching my databanks for whatever it was I could have done over dinner to make my pussy as pissed off at me as she is now. My search however came up empty, I truly am oblivious to my actions.
Picking up on my empty databank search Alex -I could see , was preparing this whole charade of letting out bits of information on a need to know basis , and seeing how well sunken into my chesterfield he was with his feet stretched out over the air and pearched on the coffee table, I sought means to extract information in a much quicker fashion.
ie: I reached down and grabbed his balls , sinking my nails deep into the skin and whispered ever so romantically into his ear “blurt out a list of the things I did to be stuck here with you instead of him.”
Thus he began to recount his list …
“He wanted to order pizza , you wouldn’t let him. You made a recommendation and coreced him into ordering something he didn’t really want.
I was tempted to comment on that as I know the pizza’s at the place aren’t good value when comparing the size they give you to the price , but I let him continue as I was enjoying watching him try to speak through gritted teeth.
“He kept caressing your shoulder and hair over and over and as he did your mood changed.”
Ok, I don’t like being touched without permission , and over – touching a girl is a sign of insecurity, but whatever.
“He tried to sample your cream tortollini and you scraped it off his fork laughing … umm, because that’s a huge no-no.”
“Go on” I said laughing cuz its true, you just don’t go encroaching on my food’s borders without signing off on a trade agreement that’s in my favour.
“Umm, he ordered his favorite wine without asking you if you liked it , and he initiated the ‘cheers’ and tapped your glass last.”
Fucking perceptive this Alex boy is. He’s well trained by me I’d say.
“You tugged his hair …twice , and slapped his ass after dinner also twice … uh, guys might find that aggressive on a first date.”
Ok, ok, but agressive is my middle name, anyways I digress.
“At dinner you , sorry, again twice brought up 50 Shades of Grey and when we were talking about that comedian Bill Burr’s premise about female psycho robot’s and you said many times you’d spank his ass for talking like that.”
“So?” I interjected.
“So, you keep bringing up bdsm topics and talk like spanking a guy’s ass is no big thing … and then after dinner you go and … yup , spank his ass.”
“Anything else” I mumbled, rather dejected that everything he had said was quite true.
“Sorry but, you reacted pissed off when he divided the bill in half and then half again for you to chip in. Ungodly no no Mistress.”
I rolled my eyes, kinda saying “obviously.”
This my friends, is why i’m 33 and still single, layin’ on the sofa alone – again. Imagine if you will … a whole day , or week , or month with me. Now, close your eyes and let the priest’s word “forever” sink into your brain like I let it sink into mine when thinking about wedding vows.
Ya, not gonna happen. The only ring I’m ever getting is the one around my anus from guys sucking on it too hard.
See, this is why the only way I can have sex is to wait for a hot guy to book me for tease & denial , tie him to a chair, and jump on his dick while putting my hands tightly over his mouth so he can’t complain.
Then fuck the shit out of him for 20 seconds or so, and send him on his way sans orgasm.
To me, that idea is ludicrous. But I just know 1000 readers out there are acting like they’re in grade one with their hands frantically raised , waving back and forth violently whilst screaming out “me , me , me, , me , me please, me.”
I’d say I’ll change. I’ll be normal … if it gets me handsome dick as a reward.
I’d say I’d act normal or even maybe act the part of the submissive innocent but oddly hot girl , just so the evening ends with my face mushed into a pillow and my ass in the air being both penetrated and spanked.
But they say a zebra can’t change it’s stripes.
That’s fine, Zebras don’t have access to vibrators, I do!
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