P.S. : “i love you”

Femdom Blog, Femdom Related, Foot Worship, My Personality, Tease & Denial

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What would be your superhero power?   Invisibility?  Teleportation?

Suppose your ability, if granted, was flawed, like … The ability to run blindingly fast but without the ability to stop?  lol

I don’t need one for I’ve been granted one at birth and that is the ability to make men say “I Love You” to me.  Well maybe not at birth as I was pretty freaking ugly until I came back to Thailand at 24yo , and even then I haven’t really blossomed into a swan until just the past two and a half years.  If you consider that I do about 500 sessions per year, I’m able to seduce on average 50% of all men just enough in those short two hours to make them blurt out “I Love You” , therefore I hear those words spoken to me about 250 times between January and Christmas.

The deepest desire of all men is to be truly loved by an angel of magnificent beauty.

That’s quite a statement, and let’s be clear about something, which is that while I know men consider me very attractive I’m by no means an angel of such beauty.  The trick therefore is to make men believe that I am, which I must say I do remarkably well …

 

 

I have a litany of such letters that I’m rather shy to parade in front of you , I’d rather you come and find out for yourself the sincerity of my sessions rather than devote a cheesy testimonial page to showcase them all.  The truth of the matter though is that I can touch men’s hearts through these femdom sessions and it’s quite a pleasure to be able to do so as I get quite a giggle out of the joy it brings men expressed through wonderful letters like this one.

The session from that testimonial came to a close fairly late that evening and though it was a mid-week session I had a lot of energy immediately after it ended as delightful two hours of fun like that often do energize me to the point that relaxing would be pointless.  Right on cue, my now former close friend (you’ll see why as this story unfolds) sent me a Line message asking me if I wanted to go out dancing that evening.  I figured ‘why not’ as the calendar was quite clear for a few days so there wouldn’t be pressure to catch up on my sleep as I tend to dance until the sun rises.   <— thus all my broken shoes.

An hour later we’ve met up and are hanging out in Ku-De-Ta once again , she’s on the dance floor and I’m at the table with a couple of girls and guys they had met drinking away when suddenly I see their eyes literally bulge out of their sockets simultaneously and one , the chunky Dutch girl actually spit out her beer a bit as the splash landed a bit on my hand.  It’s a reaction that one rarely sees and it was so exaggerated that I was sure that perhaps Garrosh the Orc from World of Warcraft had swooped in behind me and was about to behead me with his war axe.

I turn around expecting to see fangs and drool , and well , I saw one of the two … drool and lots of it , coming from my friends mouth as she had what I’d have to say is one of the world’s top ten most handsome dudes hanging on her arm.  She was practically dry humping his leg as she walked over to us and though she’s Thai she blurted out in English “look what I found” as if she had just come back from a fishing tournament on the Dog Shit river in New Zealand (tutaekuri).

My pussy quivered.  Really.  Right there and then it just violently shook and let out a squeak that secretly said ‘omg fuck me sideways.’  All thoughts of banging the hell out of Chris Hemsworth (Thor) in my fantasies went right out the window along with all the dudes from the TV Series Spartacus who I’ve scratched pussy over a million times for, all replaced by this real-life walking Titan of a man.

My “friend” has more plastic floating in her than the ocean does and she’s practically written The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Gold Digging in Thai.  Too bad for her that when she isn’t sucking on things words can’t fill her mouth equally as well … an epidemic problem among all girls in my country sadly.  70% of men here actually like to have a conversation with a girl once in a while , 95% if we bomb Pattaya off the earth (nein bitte nicht!!!) and so it wasn’t long that as we talked around the table her guy was directing his questions and comments over to me which is a dangerous thing to do while my intoxication meter is rising.  If you think I’m opinionated sober … look out when I get tipsy.

Well wouldn’t you know it, over time he becomes less interested in anyone else and rather than dancing we sit and talk about – of all things – whether he’d bang Shrillary Clinton or Angela Merkel and why nobody thinks Obama has a black man sized penis.  That’s some pretty extraneous foreplay wouldn’t you say?  It wasn’t even foreplay per se , it was just like a improvisational dialogue of comedy in which only the wine and whiskey allowed anything to be remotely humorous.

When he asked me to dance an hour later and walked me out to the dance floor I was acutely aware that his hand dwarfed mine the way a mountain would encase a diamond and for a second I had a flash thought of how Cinderella might have felt.  Except in Disney’s version , Cinderella’s Prince Charming wasn’t mobbed and torn at by wild Issan Dingo Cats.  Honestly, until that night I had been unaware at just how predatory hi-so tumbleweed brained Isaan chicks are as they had no qualms whatsoever about not only stepping in between me and him but apparently openly groping his genitals and lunging for a flying french kiss is perfectly acceptable behaviour to them as well.  That proved to me once and for all that they are all indeed the retarded offspring of five monkeys having butt sex with a fish squirrel.

 

 

At some point I just shrugged my shoulders at him as he was gang tackled by a pygmy tribe and he was whisked away leaving me to retreat back to my table where a none too happy friend was waiting for me with arms crossed and a scowl so deeply ingrained across her forehead that when put together with her northern Thai nose and gaping eyes she looked remarkably like a female Shrek in that moment.

I was just thinking “oh great, here we go” when she laid into me with a sentence that had a 3:1 ratio of cuss words to real Thai words , which was really unnecessary as the mantra of her message was quite clear from the outset :  You no take candle!

At one point she was willing to sacrifice her 200 baht replica Gucci purse in exchange for busting it over my head but one of the guys at the table stopped it mid flight.  So while being modestly restrained she yelled over at me time after time “what makes you so special?” in Thai.

I took my seat, poured a shot of whiskey, downed it and slapped the shot glass on the table all Marion-like from Raiders of the Lost Ark , and glancing over at her I casually mentioned that I can talk about things with men that she can’t.

“Lor?” she says , Thai for ‘really?’ and asks “like what’ suddenly switching to English for the first time.

“Are you the lemon?” I asked.

“Arai?” (what?)

“Are you the lemon?” and then I asked the other 2 guys at the table the same question “are you the lemon? are you the lemon?” to no reply, just looks of amusement on all their faces.  Except for Shrekella who was insistent on knowing what was the deal lemons all of a sudden.

I told her, “when you can answer properly, ‘are you the lemon’ , you will know that squatting monkeys tell no lies … and then and only then … will you get a guy like him.”

To which, I guess she only caught the word monkey and went ape-shit (pun intended) insisting she was not a monkey, which was silly since it was quite obvious she was a fish-squirrel and not a monkey at all.

 

 

You know, I take private Muay Thai lessons and while I’m probably the least qualified female Thai fighter in my country , I guess what these lessons keep teaching me is to check my ego at the door , which in turn allows me to recognize that altercations such as this one aren’t worth the energy.  I don’t have that inner peace that comes from being Buddhist either , cuz I’m not, just like the clip alludes to above I tend to think all religions are hogwash.  In my mind I was aiming all sorts of missiles, cannons,  crossbows at her head just like Ralph Wolf does at the end of this cartoon clip …

 

 

Instead, I decided to step outside of the club for a few moments to let things settle down.  I can’t say ‘cool down’ because stepping outside in Bangkok after dancing is like jumping from an oven into a sauna to cool down, and secretly I long to once again have a moment where I can step outside at 3am to a blast of cool air (Candy’s Apartment, woo!!!).

I hunched down to mop up the sweat that was leaking down my face trying to stop it before it destroyed my mascara.  Last thing I wanted was to look like the ‘Leave Brittney Alone’ girl.

“Here, use this” I heard over my shoulder and I turned around to see that better version of Thor guy offering me a silk handkerchief – wow classy move.  “Geez, that’s like a clip from a movie” I thought and I took the purple thing out of his hand and patted my head with it.

The smart ass Mistress side of me really, and I mean “really” wanted to fold it in half, place it in my pocket and say cooly “I’l give it back to you once I’ve wiped other parts of me with it”.  Except whereas you guys expect something like that to fly out of my mouth and you have the context from which it came given that I’m a Mistress , he’d have absolutely no idea why I’d be saying something like that and it would land giving wrong intentions.

After all I’m a good girl , wouldn’t want anybody thinking about what those other parts of my body might look like , I need to protect my innocen…

“Hey you feel like getting out of here and going back to my place or yours?”

“I haven’t been laid in ages” … (don’t freaking say that, why did that sentence even pop into my head, holly hell) for that’s exactly what popped into my head looking up at most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen and dealing with his proposal.

As I told you , until about two years ago I was quite the ugly duckling and the guys who had propositioned me were inconsequential in terms of looks, until recently.  It must be the confidence one gets from just knowing any man is easily seduced, I think guys pick up on that.  This year and last I’ve had a few hotties want to roll with me in bed but even though I’ve had my own condo for nearly a year now, I’ve always gone to sleep by myself having turned down every single offer to get laid.

It’s because of this crazed notion that I have that one day I’ll find a guy who is genuinely immediately interested in what I bring to the table in terms of personality , wittiness , intelligence , humour and so on.  I know I’m extremely hot , and I know guys have this craving inside them that says “I have to know what it’s like to bang that” when they see me.  Unlike men, I can get sex easily, at any moment.

In this case though, as I had just seen from his narrow escape from the pygmy’s inside, this dude was one of those very rare men that can also have sex whenever and with whomever he wants.  So here was an interesting offer.  A guy who can bed any girl he wishes, propositioning a girl who similarly can bed any guy I choose.  I just got it in my brain at that moment that this situation could be elevated to a challenge, the ultimate counter seduction if you will.  When two people, hot as hell, get together and the sex seems inevitable, what would happen if I could turn the tables on the hottest guy in Germany and make him desire me even more than he realized.

In fact, could I even draw those three words out of him that I seem to so easily draw out of everybody I session with?

“My place is close, let’s go.” I replied as I threw down the gauntlet.  Indeed the gloves were off and this night, now approaching 3:30am was about to get very interesting indeed.

In a be-careful-what-you-wish-for scenario, there was a moment in the taxi going to my place that made me realize the size of the challenge before me.  We were talking, laughing, and I had drank just enough to be in that wishy-washy place between tipsy and drunk where decisions are not quite yet spontaneous, but nearly so.  He said something funny, I laughed, and he put his fingers on my cheek saying that I look beautiful when I smile.  He leaned over towards me and instead of kissing him I sank my head downwards onto his shoulder and closed my eyes acting like I was fine with cuddling him.

The girth of his chest was noticeable with my head rested on his left pec muscle and when he wrapped his arms around me I felt tiny, like a cub resting in it’s mother’s underbelly.  When his hand came to rest around my waist and touched the inside of my thigh without moving I could feel my panties just getting soaked with my juice and I was irritated that such a simple placement of a hand could send her into a frizzy.  That’s like surrendering a chess match on an opponent’s opening pawn to e4 move.  If we’re using chess as a metaphor for a game of seduction, then I’m a bad ass chess playing motherfucking master ok, – and I quietly scolded my pussy so she’d remember that.

Except, pussy’s, mine especially, don’t give a rats ass about chess.  What she cares about is that this guys hand is the size of a foot, and by extrapolation, if the hand is that big , then … well, the drill won’t just be hitting oil but it’ll most likely be banging the walls on the way down as well.  /shudder

Minutes later we’re in my condo and the smart ass guy brings over two wine glasses and pours water from the only thing that is in my fridge, a water bottle, remarking “it’s either I pour this or we spray perfume on one another as that’s the only other thing in your fridge.”

“It’s called a starvation diet, how do you think I stay so thin?”

“Certainly explains your small breasts then”

“Ya well the breasts are a speed bump on the way to better destinations.” I said boldly and truthfully as every guy’s fascination with my ass makes my boobs much like a sideshow attraction.

“Really” he said, scooping up my right foot which lay extended out on the sofa, and he began kissing at my toes, “like your pretty feet perhaps?”

Freeze.  Think about that for a moment, as I surely did.  Do you know how many times I’ve been in that same position on my couch with one of my submissive guys following my instruction to worship my toes?  Now this Zeus like god of a man has, on his own volition, assumed the same position.  Darth Vader’s line “all too easy” ran across my mind when Luke had fallen into the Carbonite Freezing Chamber.

 

 

Just like Luke was quick to escape and make a counter attack, Zeus, with one flick of his hands quite unexpectedly whipped my ankles up over his left shoulder and began kissing down the underside of my leg working his way to the inside as he did so causing something to happen that hasn’t happened since I was 11 years old … my pussy began twitching by herself with uncontrollable convulsions.

Mistress Wael has tried to teach me some of her Jiu Jitsu to make the wrestling sessions go easier and though it mostly goes in one ear and out the other as I use my yoga flexibility to counter guys in our play fights , I did at that moment remember the basic position of putting somebody in the guard, which is to wrap my legs around the person’s waist and lock my feet behind his back.  I did so, and immediately cursed Wael in my thoughts for teaching me that as now I could feel his wood not only pressing up against the space between my vagina and my ass but it throbbed as it did so causing not just one trickle, but many , of my pussy juice to escape my panties and fall down the inside of my leg.

This was going from bad to worse and I considered just giving in and be taken right there on the couch.

“Let’s make a toast” said I , reaching over nonchalantly to grab my wine glass of water.

Just as coolly he hoisted his glass in the air and asked “what shall we drink to , we can choose as many as we like since we’ll never get drunk on this shit”

“I’ll drink to Obama’s dick, you drink to Hillary’s pussy, deal?”

“Deal” he agreed and we clinked glasses.  A childish move on my part, but I was smug with it, until the palm of his hand pushed down right where my clitoris is on my skirt and he said “but I’d rather drink to yours.”

Again, what the fuck with the twitching pussy?  She was shaking like a jackhammer under his hand, so much so that he instantly noticed it and his gaze went from my eye to his hand with a smile.

“Whoa, what have we here?” he remarked.

“Careful” I whipped out an instant reply, “I’ll have to lock you in chastity if you keep looking at her like that.”

“If you can find a chastity big enough, go ahead, you can lock me all you want.”

Oh my goodness.  My eyes glanced over at the locked second bedroom down my hallway, behind which is a museum of bdsm toys as big as the Louvre, including 3 of said chastity devices.  But my mind was considering whether indeed they were big enough, or more precisely, just how much bigger must they be?  Wow, I’ve met my match in wits that’s for certain.

This guy is smooth as silk , with his lines , mannerisms , everything running like a will oiled machine, I wondered just how many girls has he conquered to achieve such smoothness?  There was a curiousness building inside me to analyze his actions, like for instance his next one which was not just to bend his head down to kiss me atop my jeans at my crotch , but rather to lift me by my ass up to his mouth.  It was as if to give me a hint of how powerful the sex would be in the bedroom, and I let him do it, but with a smirk.

He caught the reaction right way.  “Shall I go back to your toes? he questioned.

“I think you better.”

“Then I’ll do it in the bedroom, i need the space to kiss them properly.”  Without asking he got up and pulled me with a soft tug on my hand that suggested I follow and when I got up indeed he scooped me up with one arm and carried me to the bedroom tickling my feet along the way with a smile.

Now every submissive guy I’ve had in my bedroom have to a man all instinctively assumed the same posture at the end of my bed, knees on the wooden floor and my toes in their mouth.  Not a single guy has dared to climb up on the bed with me and assume some other position from which to worship , and rightfully so.  They’d be met with a slap or a loving kick to their balls if they did try, but it’s interesting that none have.

This guy not only climbs on the bed with me but he assumes the bottom position while lifting me on top of his chest.  Then with full audacity, he pushes me backwards so that my head falls onto his crotch area and he scoops up both my feet to play with his mouth.  Now that’s ballsy.  The only other move I’ve come across that was equally as brave was when one of my lovers gave me an amazing massage with my head propped up on his lap as he oiled my breasts, tummy and the waxed part of my vagina where my pubic hair would be.  At the most intense moment of that hour long massage he had worked his hands up from my breasts to my neck and as he pushed hard into the crease of my neck it caused my chin to rise in order to further expose my neck … a natural reaction.  That arching of my neck brought my mouth right to the tip of his erect penis which he had taken out of his pants slyly, and it was so nicely done that I had smiled up at him with his dick resting on my mouth and said “well played” .. before flicking it aside.

Now similarly, my head was resting on his erect member and i moved my head side to side on it as he lapped at my toes.   “You’re failing girl, you’re failing” I shouted at myself.  Mistresses do not get seduced, ever … this I told myself.  And truly, it was at that moment that I realized i had two people inside of me that were actually fighting with one another.  One, the mistress side of me had been conditioned to control every situation with a man, while the other side, the girl inside of me, just wanted to be taken by this guy and enjoy the moment.

I wanted to hop out of the bed and say ‘enough’.  Take him by the hand and lead him to the second bedroom where indeed I would strap this boy to the wall by hands and feet both , clamp my spiked chastity on his dick – whatever size it happened to be , and teach him some humility in the presence of his goddess.  I’d go get his glass from the living room table and from beneath my vagina, show him that water was not the only thing in the condo that I could serve him to drink.

From there I’d caress the underside of his balls lovingly, laughing as his stiffening cock caused the spikes to press further into the sensitive head of his dick, waiting for him to beg for a little bit of mercy.

I could to.  I so could seduce this beau with the longest, sexiest tease of his life.  Milking the cum millimeter by millimeter from his balls to the point of no return in his shaft, and then letting it retreat so that once again the agony of pleasure could be repeated until his knees shook.

I’ve had men shaking, convulsing, in their straps as my lips quiver just above theirs, unlocking by feel their cock from my chastity and replacing it in my warm hand.  Warning them as I pull lightly just under the head that if they cum without my permission the consequence would be to never be able to session with me again … and then asking them if that’s what they wanted.

This I could do to him also.  And how sweet would it be to have this Adonis of a man whimpering at every touch of my finger as they danced around the sensitive areas of his groin, ever so careful to give him no climax , just seemingly endless torture.

He had no idea who I was , what I could do to him , if I could just get up and take him by the hand with the same loving tug as he had just done to me , to lead him to my room where the other side of me is so comfortable , she would just take over and seduce him wickedly.  Just … his cock on the back of my head felt so nice and the way he was sucking specifically on my toe … my biggest one … was , well fuck , he was foreshadowing how he would suck my pussy and given his technique on my toe, I knew if he did that between my legs I’d convulse all over him.  So very very few men actually know how to suck.

They all call it “licking pussy” … “i can’t wait to lick your pussy” , “I want to lick you”.  A misnomer if there ever was one.  Delightfully, this guy knew it was all about sucking, and the various nuances that can be done within the sucking motion.  The pressure changes, the rhythm changes, the occasional lick along the edges of my lips, all of this he was doing to my toe and it was driving me wild.

Somewhere inside me I said fuck it.  Fuck being a mistress.  Fuck femdom.  Fuck domination.  I want his cock inside me.

But under my terms and conditions.

What?  What the fuck?

Even sex has to be a negotiation between the two of us inside me?  Yes apparently it most certainly does.  “He’s not going to fuck you , rather, you are going to fuck him , and only when you’re ready, and above that , only when he’s whimpering like a baby begging for it.”

To which my other half replies “I want to be on the bottom of my super soft bed, smothered by him, his lips and tongue on my mouth and feel him slowly enter me and just let the rhythm take over and enjoy being fucked by one of the hottest men in the world, for once.”

“Whore, slut” she replies, “this guy just wants another notch in his belt, to add you to the many he’s laid around the world, and you’re just going to let him do that?  This guy needs to be strapped to a wall, teased until his dick is perpendicular to the floor, and have him watch as you bend over and ease only the first inch of his piece barely into your opening and let him shoot his load just with the pleasure of being banged like that.  That’s how it’s done.”

“No, fuck no, I want to feel him inside me three days after he’s flown back to Germany.  I want to be banged so hard tonight my stomach hurts for a month thinking about it.”

Endless bickering.  The dichotomy of living with my two selves was very much revealing at such an inopportune moment just how complex the struggle of who I really am is.

“Are you ok?”

I don’t know how long I had been having this internal dialogue but when his question shook myself out of whatever trance I had been in, I found I had slid off him and was laying on the bed like a snow angel with my arms outstretched … probably talking out loud with myself.

“I’m complicated.”

“I see that.  How so?”

“I’m batman.”  … I didn’t actually say that , but sure as hell felt like saying it as felt appropriate.

He pulled me to his chest and brushed my hair in such a pleasant way that I smiled.  It was gentle and sweet and I felt him kissing the top of my head as he did so.  I wrapped my leg around his and took a deep breath thinking about how nice it would be to fall asleep in somebody’s arms who loved me every night in this position.  It must have been a deep deep thought for it was the last one I had of that evening and when I once again opened my eyes I was aware of the heat of the room , the kind that comes about in the afternoon and the brightness of the sun blazing its way through the curtains made me realize that I had fallen asleep right at that moment he was playing with my hair.

I wiggled out from his clutch to the end of the bed and tiptoed to where the remote control for the air conditioner was.  Ever so slowly I closed the drapes to block the sun but they don’t quite close all the way, often leaving a one inch gap even when fully closed.  That left a crack for the diffused sunlight to shine through and it landed right across this guys beautiful body , illuminating it in such a magnificent way i had to grab my phone and snatch a photo of such perfection.

In the guest bathroom I took a shower and dressed in my lingerie type pajamas that I have.  I crept back into bed under the star wars blanket that I now wondered if he had noticed before he slept.  I hesitated at doing so , but dearly wanted to snuggle back into his chest again , just so I could close my eyes and feel what love must feel like , even if only for another hour.  This time I drifted off to sleep with not so kind memories of ex boyfriends and all the time I was adrift in my sleep I was battling to jump from one sad memory only to land smack in the middle of another one.

It was one of those sleeps where you want to wake up but for whatever reason you’re trapped inside your dream, awful as it might be, not being allowed to wake up until the dreams have proved their point, much like the dreams of Ebeneezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol.

Then, toast.  My dream was no longer in afflux as it tried to make sense of toast in how it related to me wandering in thick blinding mist … a metaphor for my relationship with my last boyfriend from Boston.

The image of toast had all but shattered the dream as my mind was like T-1000 Terminator robot struggling to make a form as it melted in molten steel.

 

 

Then I heard my name spoken, and when I opened my eyes I was wrapped in my bed sheets like a mummy and there was this plate of toast and peanut butter being presented to me with a wine glass of water on a tray – with a candy and a wrapped and tied letter to boot.

“For me?” I smiled and spoke at the same time.

 

“Yes for you, I don’t just make toast for anybody.”

He cuddled in behind me as I nibbled on the bread, not wanting to mix my morning breath with the smell of peanut butter which most people are sensitive to.

“You’re perfect, and I don’t know why.” he whispered behind my ear.

I put the tray down and sunk backwards into his arms to speak softly up at him, “why do you think?”

“Not sure, I don’t know why but at some point last night while you fell asleep on me I held you and told you I love you.”

There it was , my superhero power, working even while I sleep.  But you know, just like the power of the guy who can run blindlingly fast but without the ability to stop , my power is also flawed in some way.  The power to make men say “I love you” come with the flaw of nobody ever staying long enough to say the words twice.

One day I’ll be able to throw away the key to that locked bedroom , not yet though , not yet.

 

kh xx

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