“What the fuck is she doing?” I could see that expression written all over Dieter’s eyes which – when compounded by the fact that my eyes had the exact same expression showed in unison that there was something very wrong going on in the session he had booked with me and the original Mistress Jaa. That was December 8th of last year, and after a turbulent week thereafter, Mistress Jaa officially finally succumbed to the pressure that 5 years of being Head Mistress for jaa4u.com had brought on and did the right thing by stepping down.
I don’t say it was the right thing because it benefited me. Taking over for her was more of an act of taking the load off of her shoulders and letting her breathe while I kept her business afloat and on December 13th I took over officially which now seems like an eternity ago. Now Dieter – god bless his crazy fucked up heart – even though he’s a total basket case and will definitely make the top 5 list as I write about it more this week – the dude had every right to be pissed off. He showed up on time for the session, I believe it was his 3rd with her and 1st with us together so there was this familiarity that had been established, a familiarity which allowed Jaa who was clearly at the end of her rope to act out her own version of the Top Gun scene where Maverick won’t engage and Sundown – (me) – confronts her with it.
As hot as I am, Jaa is hotter so it would make sense that she got to play out the part of Tom Cruise and I got to play Sundown, which sucks because if I had my choice on which black actor I’d play it’d be Denzel haha. For the 1st hour of the session I sat on the bed talking with Dieter while Jaa continued to clean the condo and as we rolled into hour number two her unwillingness to engage in the session became damage control.
Remember the captain of the Titanic how he had resigned himself to his death, choosing to hold the wheel of his ship before he drowned? That’s how I felt throughout the last hour of that session, except the windows never imploded and the ship never sunk.
Instead, I was handed the reigns of the horse later that week and I made rectifying the wrong done in that session my very first priority by coercing Dieter to come see me for a private session, my first as Head Mistress and frankly speaking, I blew doors off of his mind in that session … something which went so deep that it permanently fucked up our relationship for the rest of the year, and I list it as the 4th most memorable session of the year.
Which means that from last December 13th to the one upcoming, there have been many fantastic sessions where I’ve gotten inside a guy’s mind even more so than i did with Dieter, but in a good way. Dieter went all basket case on me, whereas other sessions I influenced guys in a positive way and therein lays the amazing part of being a Goddess that seduces men, I wake up feelings inside guys that they haven’t felt for decades and I show them just how truly deep desire can run. Which brings us to Mr.Grey, a session that very closely followed Dieter’s meltdown but was the spring board that launched me strongly into January as it taught me just how deeply I can swim inside a guys mind weeks, months even after a session.
The 5th best session of last year started the very moment I went down to greet the guy showing up for his Tease & Denial session and saw only a very handsome man in his late 30’s sitting in front of the cafe at the condo wearing a finely tailored grey suit and sitting with a posture that exuded confidence. Atypical of most guys who show up for their session who have long since succumbed to the heat of Bangkok and show up wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts.
I hung his jacket up in my front foyer closet and invited him to sit down on the living room couch while I made us an Earl Grey tea to sit and relax, well that’s what I told him at least. I’m about as interested in sipping tea as a midget is at wanting to climb the Great Wall of China. At best, the tea is a distraction – not by the way i sip it although I’ve had guys drool at how my lips slowly wrap around the lip of the cup and let the moisture sit on my lips as i look up at them after swallowing and say “what?”. No, it’s a time distraction to allow me to pick up on the subtleties of how he is feeling towards me. Mostly, I’m looking for that fake wall of pleasantness that guys throw up with their legs crossed and holding the tea like they’re at a hi-so biscuit eating affair at the Bodiam Castle in RobertsBridge, East Sussex, pretending like my lace dress isn’t causing their cock to climb out of the pants and raise the white flag of surrender.
Mr. Grey as I shall call him, handsome as he was, had to keep crossing and recrossing his legs to disguise his bulging dick making an uncomfortable mountain in his slacks and by not taking my eyes off of him as we talked for the first 15 minutes I made him more and more uncomfortable with his hardness.
We all have this comfort zone of the people we’re attracted to and know we can get, and once we’re forced to covet something that is way outside of our comfort zone there is an uneasiness that permeates the air when in close confines of one another – for the person who is coveting that which is out of her … or for you guys … his league. Let’s say for argument sake that we’re talking about you being sexually attracted to me. By most guys definition, I’m a 9 , or at the very least an 8, and even for the extremely critical men out there, i’m a strong 7. By comparison, most guys, even as handsome as my Mr. Grey client was, is at most a 7.
For me, Chris Hemsworth – you know him as Thor is a 10, my knees would tremble around him the way this girl did upon seeing Heath Ledger.
That’s a guy who understood comfort zones and the effects of smashing through them. I’m sure he was fully aware, as Chris is that the longer he entertains an average looking girl in conversation the more uncomfortable the situation becomes, a distilled uneasiness that makes the heart pump, the knees feel weak, and makes sweat form at the top of the forehead. That’s all I’m doing in my sessions as I’m aware that as that gap between my 9 and your 7, or 6 or in most cases 5 increases the more I have a hold of your utmost attention as I speak to you.
The gap between a 9 and a 7 as it existed between Mr. Grey and I was only slight and at that point confidence takes over. The confidence of having top model guys seek me out night after night whether it’s at the dance club or at the food court at Terminal 21 … not that there is a plethora of male models hanging out at the food court, but I have been approached by more than one there, something I’ve written about before if you recall.
That confidence of knowing how to deal with guys who would make my heart race makes it very easy for me in turn to hold the conversation as I did with Mr.Grey and let the tension of the situation grow on him as opposed to having it disturb me.
Fifteen minutes into our talk and at the end of our tea cups there was this pause in the air, the silence that screams out “ok what do we do now” and it was written in his eyes that he was eager to start the session, totally unaware that it had begun the moment I met him in the lobby and my mind said “fuck he’s hot, I have to take the wind out of his sails quickly”.
“You didn’t fully tell me what you wanted in your email” I said to him as I collected the tea cups and the holders from the coffee table and took them to the kitchen. “So before we begin, I want you to tell me – in detail this time – exactly what it is you want out of our session today” i continued as I slipped the dishes into the sink and reached into my hand purse to reapply a bit more of my perfume on my wrist to mask the smell of tea in the room. I had turned the air off just before he announced he was arriving downstairs so though the room was moderately cool the smell of the tea was allowed to linger in the air with the lack of circulation. The perfumes I choose are subtle but intense, i’m a connoisseur of smells and i knew it wouldn’t take long for the moistness of my wrist to set a new smell in the room for his senses.
The best way to deal with men’s bullshit is to cut through all their pretentiousness. I like to take the “i’m a 9, you’re a 7” and throw it right in their face and see them deal with it in an impromptu sort of way so they can’t ease into the situation. Things are so much better when they’re real don’t you think?
So with that in mind, I walked back to the couch where he was sitting parallel with the hand rest and his legs outstretched dangling down to the floor in a semi crossed way. Enough space for my petite body to slip into and from his solar plexus I wiggled my bumb into him and as I turned I slid down into his lap – making sure that my ass pulled his cock from the upright position to where it lay under me pointing down stretched out towards his ass and bearing the full weight of my body.
His hands, with his fingers stretched out looked as if he were an untrained doctor about to reach into the open chest cavity of a patient with no knowledge whatsoever of where his hands should go or what they should touch.
I could actually feel the head of his cock throbbing uncontrollably under the small of my back but I paid it no attention, and poor Mr.Grey was doing everything he could to not explode all over his pants and the back of my dress a mere 17 minutes into the session. His hands for lack of a better place to land decided to come to rest just under my breasts but I grabbed his left pinky finger with my hand and removed it while still continuing to talk.
“So, what is it you really want?”
“I … I … uhm…I want to be slave” was his exact response, so noted because he left out the word ‘your’, which is interesting since he was born and raised in England. Oh how quickly grammar school goes out the window when you’re trying desperately not to shoot your load on your mistress’s ass.
Another thing that drives a guy crazy is girls who are unabashedly frank in both their dialogue and mannerisms. Using that advantage at an appropriately timed moment causes all sorts of misanthropic conflaguration as it did with what I said next to Mr. Grey;
“I’m sitting on your cock, and you’re trying not to cum because baby i can feel your head pulsing under my ass. My body has completely invaded your personal space and in such a quick period of time, and all you can say of your desires at this point is that you want to be my slave? Really?”
“No, I , I mean, you are my mistress, i cannot…”
“Cannot what, touch? So if I told you I want you to fuck me right now , you wouldn’t because of some unwritten rule that precludes you from doing so?
I could see his brain literally pumping out smoke as his thoughts raced at light speed trying to ascertain whether or not that was an invitation for him to fuck me. His predictably neanderthal reaction was to slide both his hands down the back of my hair to my neck and lift me up toward him so his lips could get closer to mine. I used that momentum he generated to turn as he lifted and we ended up in a me straddling him kind of position. I cupped his face with my hands and pulled the back of his hair slightly while wiggling my ass on what was now a petrified tree trying to access my covered cave through two layers of fabric between us. He stood up, lifting my body with him almost falling over backwards with his rush to get me to the living room wall, and there we stood with me in his arms and him trying fervently to move in with a kiss. I however had that covered as my hand met his chin and twisted his head to the side and my foot came around to the front from being wrapped under his thigh and I gently tapped him in his balls causing him to hunch over but still dangling me like a baby kangaroo in a pouch below him.
“Do you want to fuck me, right here, right now?” I asked him, again intruding on what he was used to as usual behavior by a girl and thus extracting the purest of answers from him.
“Yes mistress, please.”
“Please doesn’t do anything for me, I want you to explain to me how hot I am to you and how much you want to fuck me.” I demanded from him in a sexy tone of voice with my lips so close to his that he could smell the fragrance of the Earl Grey tea on my breath.
“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, I’ve never felt desire like this.” … a probably true statement, yet there was uncertainty in the tone of his voice, like he thought this was all a facade of trickery. After all, who really gets to fuck a mistress hotter than any of the mistress’s that have permeated his dreams since – forever, and just moments after encountering her? There’s that self-doubt that exists in any man, a doubt that when he’s exposed like this guy was, asks of himself if he is truly this desirable to a woman. Especially a woman perceived to be out of his league, why would she want him so quickly?
Tease & Denial. It’s all in the denial. When we’re denied that which we truly desire, it just makes us covet it more. Once that denial is looped, much like a cat trying to chase it’s own tail, a crazed desire takes over the body and whether it’s the male you or the female me, that desire manifests itself as a pure craving. In being a mistress, i’m mostly the supplier of that craving and very rarely do I entertain the idea of participating in that craving with my client.
As with all things in life, a paid session is still an interaction between two individuals. A lot of you guys show up at my door wearing your day worn t-shirt, your 100 baht shorts, your $5 Hai Karate 80’s cologne and barely washed, hardly shaven … expecting me to have some sort of forced attraction to that kind of look. I’m human, I like hot men, or at least, I like men who put the effort into being as hot as they can be. Some of you 5’s and 6’s in terms of looks can clean up nicely and be presentable as a solid 7 , perhaps even an 8 , and perfectly desirable to a girl. It’s sad that in my experience, 75% of men out there don’t have a clue about how to present themselves. Be it bitten nails, or an unsightly nose hair, or an annoying habit of adjusting ones balls as they walk (seriously, why do you guys do that, and furthermore, why do you think we don’t notice?) there’s inevitably something that destroys the attraction in almost every session.
Thus, this guy was a rare bird indeed. He had CK cologne, not my choice of smells for a man but a nice effort nonetheless, but more importantly is he was dressed to kill and so very few men know how to dress themselves. It helped that he was genuinely attractive, but that wasn’t his selling point, I was hotly attracted to this vulnerability that existed inside him, hidden for sure, but i’m more perceptive than most.
“That’s what I wanted to hear” and I kissed him on his cheek, moving towards his ear slowly until my lips rested right above his tender ear lobe. After a quick nibble i whispered so quietly into his ear that which he wanted to hear so dearly ; “i’m going to let you do anything you want with me, except fuck me, or kiss me on the lips, but with our clothes on.”
For a moment he looked at me with an aura of disbelief which turned into the most pleasant grunt I’ve ever heard as I reached down and grabbed his cock through his dress pants and began rubbing my thumb under his cock head as i pressed my lips deeply into his neck until my teeth bit hard, squeezing his cock with all my strength as my teeth collapsed into his skin. He immediately dropped me to the floor – quite surprisingly as I thought he’d do the opposite and hoist me up – but whatever, his next move was to drop to his knees and kiss my navel. Quite the submissive act but I loved it and after due time spent kissing and sucking my tummy I pushed him down towards my pussy.
“You have the most amazing tummy, it’s beyond sexy” he whispered sadly, (you be the judge, that’s my tummy there in the photo) bidding adieu to my belly button as he approached instead the upper part of my clit. Though I was wearing jeans under my lace top, his sucking was forceful enough to cause her to swell uncontrollably and fuck – it was all I could do to not rip open my Mango’s and let those amazing lips probe my pussy, but I resisted. Then just as I had let go of the expectation of being lifted he scooped me up, turned ninety degrees to his right and flopped me down on the sofa.
“Fuck it lets go to the bedroom” I told him and grabbing him by his hand I tugged him to my master bedroom where i resumed the flopped back down position but on my queen sized bed this time. It feels so nice to say that – “queen sized bed” after spending every day of my life up until this year either sleeping on the floor, on a mattress, or on my tiny hobbit sized bed that i’d slept on the past 3 years.
He chose to flip me over on my tummy and climbed up between my legs like a raft making it’s way down a river between two canyon walls, but when he got to my ass I picked up the heel of my foot and by hooking the back of his head I pulled and locked his nose into my ass making him smell my fart as it sat and lingered inside my jeans. I laughed as I turned around to look at him and he had a delirium in his eyes reminiscent of a crazed wolf. The energy that followed throughout the next hour matched that simile as he aggressively kissed smelled and sucked at every part of my body while I made sure I held on to his dick the whole time as tightly as a woman drifting in the rapids would cling to a life preserver.
A thousand pleads and an hour later he collapsed onto his back on my bed in total frustration holding the top of my hand which as I told you was latched onto his dick like a leech.
“Please mistress, you have to let me cum, I can’t take it any longer. Can we please make love.”
Interesting how a man changes his terminology, when he’s in control he wants to fuck the shit out of something, but when he’s desperate with no relief in sight that act suddenly becomes “making love”.
I kind of wanted to stop as well, not for exhaustion sake, but for the fact that I had so much pussy juice running down my leg – trapped inside my jeans that it felt like I had peed myself and my panties felt like I had taken a swim in the pool downstairs. The smell must be akin to catnip for as I cuddled up beside him he curled himself down towards the vaginal area of my jeans again just to rest his head.
“Do you really want to cum?” I asked him.
He looked up from my pussy and firmly put his fist over my hand which was still pulsing his cock like I was taking his blood pressure.
“Please” he begged.
“Put your mouth on my nipple” I ordered him, but when he let go of my hand to pull open my lace to get to my bra I slapped him hard across his face. “On my nipple … outside my top, not inside” I added. When I felt the bites of his teeth trying to locate my nipple it sent a shiver down my spine. My nipple was so taut from all the kissing and petting that my nipple was quite large and spread out – thus hard to acquire in his teeth. Finally he found her and my instructions continued.
“I’m going to stroke your cock super slowly for the next hour” and as I spoke I unzipped his pants and let this hugely thick cock of his, the thickest I’ve ever seen, spill out onto his belt. My thumb found the part under his head and with slow rhythmic pulsing of my hand and gently pushing my thumb into the vein under his cock head I demonstrated just how slow the rest of the tease was going to me.
“If at any time you lick or suck my nipple in the next hour I’m going to stop immediately and you’ll be asked to leave. But if you can manage to hold her in your teeth for an hour, I promise you’ll cum eventually.”
He simply moaned for his response and I began caressing his hair like a baby with my left hand while rolling my thumb around his pulsing cock with my other hand. It wasn’t even a minute later that he began to shake and cajole hips into convincing his balls to release his stuff … but to no avail, my tease was far too slow for that old school trick to work. There’s tons of little tricks guys use, I should one day make a simple blog post listing them all like a Texas wanted list, but rest assured I’m aware of them all and they all get punished accordingly. From the ‘squeezing the balls between his legs’ move, to the ‘contracting the muscles in the ass area’ to coerce an orgasm before it’s due time, they’re all amateurish and easily preventable. Tediously slow torturing of the cock at a rhythm that sits below the danger line of inducing an orgasm is the best way to derail all the tricks guys use.
But they try, I applaud them for it. The one that does get me from time to time I will admit, is the straight faced liar guy. The one who will look as straight faced and calm as a Sunday school boy praying at church while perfectly disguising the imminent eruption in his balls. Oh the joy of seeing his “aha I tricked you face” as he orgasms turn into “no wait what the fuck, stop stop stop” look as I wipe the cum away and purposely keep rubbing the top of his cock head for the next 10 minutes as he screams with his hands tied up. If he moves too much to avoid my rubbing he gets a good hand slap on the bottom of his balls to correct his behavior subtly. I’ll continue on like that until he’s within seconds of his second orgasm – because it’s very hard for a guy to pull such a trick the second time, there simply isn’t the velocity in the balls needed to launch the cum – and when he’s desperately close to cumming a 2nd time I’ll force him to briskly get dressed and leave the condo, quick enough so that his cock is hard as a rock in the elevator going down.
An hour and forty minutes into the session with Mr. Grey and he was at a crossroads of emotions. On one side, my gentle stroking of his hair with his teeth lightly gripping my nipple had reverted his memories back to a post-womb state and he was happy with letting time melt away in my arms like that forever. However, his harmony within himself was being fiercely fought with the agonizing teasing I was doing to him down below.
He began whimpering through his teeth, so much so that it became annoying, like a baby that had been put to sleep earlier than he had wanted. I pulled him by the front of his hair off my soaked lace and asked him what the problem was.
“I need to cum mistress, i need it now. Please.”
“Allright” I answered. “But you have to use your hand to cum and I want you to cum over your suit.”
“Mistress?” he simply questioned me with one word? But rather than explain myself I stood up over him as he laid on the bed grabbing his own cock in reaction to seeing me strip out of my jeans revealing my g-string pussy soaked black panties. I turned to face his cock and squatted down over his face so that my legendary ass was inches away from his mouth. Slowly I rubbed my ass cheeks across his face letting the dank smell of my hole surround his nose instead of my perfume and with a spank of my hand on his I got his fingers to start stoking his cock as I did so.
Just lightly enough to barely touch his tongue I kept my distance as he tried to find the wetness of my panties on his tongue. He began to yell and wince his eyes as he approached orgasm. As he did so I sat down with all my weight on his nose letting the stench of my pussy juice and my ass juice be sucked in by his over eager lips and as he erupted his cum he managed to shoot the first squirt and the second squirt of his load all the way up to where he had just been sucking in the breast area of my lace top , but the subsequent squirts littered his suit with his cum as he sucked feverishly on my panties – trembling by the legs as he did so.
By the time he had showered and I had changed into my t’s and shorts, it was time to say good bye and as I walked him to the door he summoned his last bit of courtship by stopping at the door and asking me if he could please kiss be once before he left.
“Sure” I said.
Then I nudged him outside the foyer of my condo door, turned around and pointed to my ass. He actually chose not to, instead walking away backwards smiling at me and shaking his head repeating the word “wow” over and over until his elevator arrived and he disappeared.
Now instead of saying something clever to finish off my account of the session I’m simply gonna tell you what I did next and leave it at that. I don’t think I’ve ever dug my fingers into my pussy as hard or as fast as I did the second the elevator door closed and I slammed my condo door shut. What I remember, truly, is that I held off on my orgasm which would have came in the first 5 seconds until a good 30 seconds later. Because I screamed when i made myself cum, and I never scream, but I’m sure it was so loud that he probably heard it on his way out of the lobby walking to the soi as my open balcony window overlooks the street down below.
Ah fun, but that was only the 5th best session of the year. I guess you’re wondering what possibly beat that? You’ll know tomorrow.
jaa xx
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Great story Goddess
I don’t think Mr Gray fully understood what privilige you allowed him.