Well I’m off to Sri Lanka in a few hours , which is more of a therapeutic trip than you can imagine.
This interesting email came in just yesterday after I finished my last session before my trip and the guy had commented on his 3rd session with me saying: “I”m blown away by how in each session you’ve been three different mistresses , each wholly different than the previous. You were at first scary and violent , then soft, seductive and alluring in our second , while yesterday was so frustrating how you played with my mind blurring the line of whether you were in love with me or that I was just a toy for your amusement. How you could swiftly change from one personality to the other in an erotic bi-polar sort of fashion (I had no idea that was even possible) just amazes me.”
Which brings me back to why this vacation is so very much needed.
For what I do, and I do it very well by now, is I adorn masks – as easy as if the bookshelf above my television was filled with a plethora from which to choose. The romantic mistress – ah that’s the mask over there to the far left, the one with the sad cat’s eyes. She’s the one who laughs and swoons over every comment you make and isn’t shy to brush your chin with my hand as I swivel on a dime and fall laughingly back into your arms expecting you to catch me as I fall. Then my right hand traces its way down your abdomen and rests firmly over your groin in appreciation that you’ve chosen to embrace me in your arms. You fully expected the stereotypical mistress wearing her black shiny knee high boots and tight cleavage popping corset , but instead you’ve begun to fall in love with this tiny vulnerable girl who is nestled in your arms , cock in hand – and you’re loving the engagement so far.
That person leaves two hours later with a puzzled but charmed look on his face , having just enjoyed the greatest but all too brief mind fuck of his 40 year existence on this planet.
Then, moments later, I’ve deliberately eschewed that mask in favor of the one over on the far right , the foreboding one with menacing eyes and I slide that over my face as the 10pm session arrives – a hunched over behemoth of a man who’s afraid even to make eye contact with me. There in my foyer I grab him by his tie and walk him like a dog to my living room where I simply point to the straps on the floor and he meekly but obediently ties himself into the leg spreader which he’s become oh so familiar with the past month.
In an abusive tone of voice that inwardly shocks even myself, I question his stupidity at coming once again to my condo when I specifically warned him not to last time and had laid out the consequences which awaited him if he did.
To show just how stupid he is my right leg strikes him between the legs with a perfectly executed Muay Thai kick, one that I had drilled countless times with my personal coach over the past two years. It hits him with a sickening thwack which buckles him but yet, he defiantly lifts himself back to a standing spread eagled posture.
Angered but amused, I stride towards him and slap him hard across the left cheek for his defiance, and then once again on the right side with my backhand. He looks at me, grinning, and without permission blurts out “thank you mistress.”
“When the fuck did I instruct you to speak to me?’ I yell at him. Slapping him 10 more times in the process, a repetitive event that has his face jerking left and right in an almost cartoon like fashion from the strength of my blows. I step back and blast the bottom of his testicles with a front snap kick , and this one caught him unclenched – if indeed clenching one’s balls is even possible – but I suspect it is. He crumples to one knee but quickly steadies himself and returns to an upright but wavering posture.
This goes on and on for two more hours , at the end of which my right hip is aching from the sheer volume of kicks it’s administered. I’ve gulped down an entire liter of water during the session and sweat is pouring down my forehead.
He leaves, or should I say – he staggers out the door just a minute before midnight thanking me countless times and promising he’ll be back just as soon as he’s recovered from his lesson.
No sooner has the door closed behind him, I rush to the shower to soak away the sweat and embrace the cold rain of water upon my face. But not for long , though I wish to stand there for half an hour cooking myself in the hot steam of the shower stall , I’m late for my midnight dinner engagement with my very long time customer from Texas who’s agreed to a 7 hour stopover in Bangkok that leaves him stranded here through the wee hours of the night just so he can see me, briefly, on his way to Dubai.
I’m doing the best I can to put on at least a presentable layer of makeup and I throw on a silky dinner dress , one that accentuates the fine curve of my ass, something I know he absolutely enjoys looking at , if not fondling a squeeze every now and then in exchange for a public face slapping immediately after he does so.
There at a street side joint on Sukhumvit we eat merrily and enjoy a glass of wine all through the night laughing and catching up on his stories which he’s so good at telling. I’m leaning forward with my chin perched on the back of my hands which in turn are resting on my chin. I’ll reach over and pet his cheek at his jokes from time to time and then just as quickly stretch back and curve my back to show him how relaxed I am , all the while giving him a good erection as he gawks at the tightness of my breasts while I stretch. This is the Merry Mask I’ve put on , the sociable mask , probably the one I’m most comfortable with but get to use the least. It crosses my mind during the evening that this is the mask closest to my own personal mask , except I’m ‘working’ and it’s not lost in my thoughts that though he loves my company , he’s grown to love the show
I put on , this personality that comes with the mask.
I wonder, at times, if he’d still come to see me and even pay for the pleasure of my company as he always does – if in fact he was sitting with me. The girl that I am when I’m not being a mistress. The silly girl who likes to laugh and have fun and just be herself. Probably not, she’s much to boring.
It’s 4am and he has to make his way to the airport for his 7am flight out. He thanks me for such a wonderful time and I kiss him on the cheek just before he steps into the taxi and wave to him from afar as his green cab disappears from sight.
I’m not done yet though, oh my body aches for double digit hours of slumber in my oh so soft bed , but a quick check of my phone shows me twenty two unanswered emails await me once I’m back home. I can’t get to that yet though, the sheets have to be cleaned, the floor where the guy peed a bit in the ball busting session has to be washed, but thankfully there’s no session tomorrow so no toys have to be sterilized.
The sun has begun to rise and we’re well past the first light of dawn by the time I get to sit down on my sofa with a cup of tea and begin to throw myself into my email. Then I stop myself and look at the one mask that’s on the shelf above my TV.
That mask is there as a reminder that that’s who I am, a person who wears masks for a living.
It’s there as a constant check that I haven’t lost who I really am.
Am I the girl who kicked a guy’s ball for 120 minutes? No.
Am I the girl who played innocent with that 40 year old who visited me early in the evening? No.
Am I the girl who was so sexy and yet so natural at dinner in the middle of the night? No.
I’m the girl who wakes up at 2pm every day and gets to be me for exactly 5 hours before my 7pm session arrives.
And that my friends, is why this vacation is so much needed.
When I hike, when I climb, it’s just me and the land. I don’t wear makeup , I don’t wear fancy clothes. Just me and my hiking boots, a walking stick perhaps in one hand, and a good stick of beef jerky that I’m gnawing on like a cow in the other hand.
That’s me. That’s the girl you don’t really want to know, but it’s who I am … and it’s time to get in touch with her.
See you guys on the 8th.
Xx
[gravityform id=”2″ title=”true” description=”true”]
[gravityform id=”1″ title=”true” description=”true”]