Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Sub in the Club | Down and Out

What’s happening in the picture?  Let’s see how well you know me.  Am I as wild as you may think I am … Or am I an innocent horror freak who had my evening boringly interrupted?  Below I’ve written two scenarios briefly outlining the events that led up to this moment, one being false and one being the honest truth of how things went down.  Read each of them and cast your vote for which you think is the proper account of things.  I’ll post the result next Friday.

The Sub in the Club

It’s been a quiet week having only accepted three sessions, two on the Monday and the other on the Tuesday – none of which were noteworthy enough to write about, just two hour tease & denial sessions, all of which ended with the guy using up his safe word to give him his orgasm.  So by Thursday i was getting itchy to do something having had two days off but I had settled on buying a cheesy movie – San Andreas , and had just finished cooking up some food, successfully without burning anything this time when … ah let’s just call him ‘hot guy #1 from my dance class’ as they’re all kind of dreamy … he calls me and says my classmates are going out dancing at 11pm and asks me if I want to go along.

My dance class has 4 cute as fuck guys in it, 1 not so great looking chick but one with a cool personality, and the others who are not that interesting at all to me.  It’s us 6 who usually hang out together on the weekends and now that I’m into semester three we’ve finally gotten over the “who’s gonna fuck her first” bravado men like to play and now that they know my pussy’s off limits we’ve sunk into a fun, albeit very flirty friendship zone that makes the evenings out super fun with no penis danger haha.

Flash forward an hour later, just after midnight and I’m having a blast grabbing hunky waist or fleshy ass cheeks and turning guys on left and right when I get suddenly spun around from behind and the two arms of the girl in my class drapes over my shoulders and I’m dirty dancing with the girl who plays little miss innocent in class every week.  At most I was light headed having drank only 2 glasses of red wine and a vodka cooler so I was pretty aware of how she was rubbing herself against me, confirmed a moment later when she went in to kiss me.  Instead of meeting her lips i stopped her with my finger and said right into her ear, “it takes more than that” meaning it as a brush off so that I could get back to flirting with my guy friends.

Instead she takes my fingers, puts them in her mouth and sucks one of them saying back “what does it take?”  Before I could think of something better to say the cheeky side of me shot back “you gotta be my slave girl”

“and?” she replies right away.

“and you have to follow everything I say”

“and?” she smiles at me before sucking my finger again.

Now it’s 5am and we’re back at my condo, her, me, and hot guy #1 and 2 … the others live out by K.S rd so they took off at 3 , and both of these guys were too far drunk to stand so I let them crash together in my bed with intentions of bringing this girl to the second bedroom while I’d sleep on the couch.  In the three months of classes together I hadn’t said more than two or three words to her as the way she’d pull off her innocent act annoyed me, I knew it was bullshit.  She’s Thai, and finding an innocent one of us that goes dancing with hot guys is as impossible as finding a widow who feeds on dreams and wishes still.  Me excluded,  *cough*

So without much to say to one another now that we were alone in my living room I offered to warm up the food I had made before I ran out the door hours earlier and she agreed.  But instead of bringing her the food on a plate like the one I had served my portion onto, I carried over the metal bowl I make salad in and put it on the floor at her feet, then went back to the kitchen to get my plate without saying a word to her.

“What do you really want?” I asked her as I walked back toward her, changing to English for the first time and adjusting the tone to match exactly how I command my voice when I’m in mistress mode.

“kiss you” she replied.

“Then bow down at my feet, head down to the floor.”

She dropped so fast it took me by surprise.  Not letting that immediate power transfer slide for even a second I followed by saying “tell me you’ll eat anything that goes in that bowl, and if you prove it” I said, pausing for a moment before finishing, “I’ll let you kiss me a-ny-wh-ere you want tonight.”

There was a pause for a few moments and in that time my condo was as silent as it has ever been the month I’ve been here, before her words “yes…ok” happily broke the silence, and with that I put down my dish and began to slip out of my panties.

Down and Out

I’d just finished watching my 50 baht horror movie Rec3 which in the end wasn’t worth the zero after the 5 as it failed to raise a single hair on my head and was frustrated to find that Soma, the horror game I had been downloading since 5pm still wasn’t finished installing itself on my computer.  With no sessions scheduled in three consecutive days and finally having the condo to myself for the first time in a month I’d chosen to have a little thrill time playing horror games and watching scary movies by myself with the lights out all through the night as my entertainment for a couple of evenings.

I was rattling my fingers on my computer desk thinking what to do to kill the 30 or so minutes left before I could get playing my first game in … oh, ages and ages?  I was putting the Rec3 dvd back in it’s plastic wrap when I jumped 6 inches vertical in the air as my loud as fuck cell phone screamed out on the table beside me.  Who the hell was calling me at 3am?  Well now at least if the game sucks I can say I had something raise the hair on my head for the evening.

I didn’t even recognize the number, it wasn’t blocked but it sure wasn’t a name in my contact list that I’d associated a picture to but I answered it anyways half hoping it’d be a prank phone call from the guy in the Scream movies.  I couldn’t make out a word the person was saying to me, it was half drunk gibberish and half bawling nasal crying.  Took a second, but I then recognized it was one of my closer friends, actually I had just recently seen her at her wedding a month ago, it was the photo in one of my stories with me wearing more makeup than Lady Gaga and the grey dress … some of my long time readers will remember it clearly.

When I asked her where she was and what was wrong she blurted out “your condo” and “downstairs”.  Oh great, that’ll make a good bit of discussion for the gossiping security guards downstairs tomorrow, so I quickly headed to the lift to go get her.

I smelled her long before I reached her.  A bottle, if not two of whiskey had made her carry a warning zone radius of 10 meters, getting any closer would be hazardous to one’s nostrils.  I”m smaller than her and yet had to carry her to the lift with her half dragging her feet behind her and her chin stuck clinging to my shoulder dropping drool down the front of my Rolling Stone black t-shirt that I love.

When I got her to my condo I wanted to zombie pull her over to my bathroom so she could hurl on more easy to clean flooring but we never got that far.  She collapsed in a sobbing heap on the floor and kept saying “he left me, he left me” in Thai crying for about 10 to 20 seconds before repeating the same words.  She stopped only to start gagging on her spit and I rushed to my kitchen, grabbed the first pan I could get my hands on, my metal salad bowl and put it beside her head for her to spit into.

She managed to get one gob of spit out of her mouth, missing the bowl but at least it wasn’t vomit.  Moments later she passed out on the floor dead asleep and unmovable so I just left her like that, went to my bedroom and we both slept a good 10 hours until the mid afternoon today.  When I woke up she was gone, having left only a thank you message on my phone with an apology.  I was thankful she had left.  I grabbed some food, closed the drapes, and began day two of my horror festival by playing Soma … at 3 in the afternoon

Jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Wash ‘n’ Blow

“I might want to suck a cock, I don’t know.”

“I’m curious about it, but not in the sense that I want to be with a guy, I’d just like to know you know?”

“not for me but if you made me I guess I’d have to”

“can we maybe involve a ladyboy and if we could could she use me even if I didn’t want to because I think it would disgust me at first.”

Could you guys be any more on the fence about sucking dick?  I’m going to tell you how I solved the problem of the wishy washy guy who didn’t quite know if getting past second base with a ladyboy was really his thing or not.  I actually had intentions to seek out a ladyboy with the guy the way I normally do , by going to the second floor ladyboy club that I like at Nana Plaza and sitting for an hour to pick out one that suits him.  But this guy was going back and forth in emails all last week whether he wanted to even be seen in a ladyboy bar or not and no sooner had he confirmed he’d go he’d then send me an email saying “no, better not” and it went on like this for days.

I got fed up with his bullshit and just told him that “I have an idea that’s much easier that’ll work well for you” and didn’t offer any further details, I’d just rebuff his requests for details by saying confidently that I knew exactly what he wanted and this place would suit his much more passive demeanor.

See, now I’m going back and forth again whether to write this as I don’t want to come across as a real bitch.  About me, I like confidant submissive men, which is like trying to find a non-slutty gay guy, I have to look rather hard.  So when somebody starts losing his spine right in front of my eyes, email by email, it rubs me the wrong way.  I just figured, if he’s not gonna be decisive, then I’ll be decisive for him.

So on Sukhumvit Rd at Nana there’s this salon run completely by ladyboy’s and as the original Jaa taught me a few years ago … a good hair cut isn’t the only thing that can be bought in that place.  I took the 4,000 he had budgeted for the ladyboy part of the session and paying beforehand with my own money I went in and tipped four of them 1,000 baht each.  I simply said …

“I’m going to bring in this guy tonight at exactly 10pm right when you close, make sure you give him the full service” and having worked primarily with Jaa before me numerous times they knew exactly what that meant.

I set it up so easily for him too.  We went walking and I told him I have a ladyboy destination in mind that definitely wasn’t a bar or go-go of any sort and that he’d be the only person there so he had no shyness issues to deal with.

Well fuck, I told him the truth didn’t I?  You can’t say I lied, technically.

He even tried to weasel his way out of this too saying when I tried to lead him into the shop “I don’t need a haircut” so I told him it’s only a wash and blow style.”  lol , wash’n’blow was about to have a whole new meaning in the hair cutting world.

I didn’t participate at all.  I let one of them lead him to the back to the sink area which was behind the curtain and out of sight, while the other locked the door and tiptoed to the back to join in with the other three.

There was a bit of a ruckus, a hint of resistance by the sound of it and then a good 30 minutes of violent exhales through the nose.  All the while I sat at the front of the shop reading my Facebook bouncing from feeling horribly guilty to having to control my laughter each time it was obvious one was entering his ass for the first time.

That’s the ‘session’.  I didn’t do a thing.  Nor did I need to.  I went back after 45 minutes to see if he had enough and also because I was curious to what they were doing and how they were doing it.  Let’s just say that having the head tilted way back into the sink for a hair wash is about as bad as when I hang the guys head over the end of my bed when I go drilling for oil balls deep on my dildo.

He paid one of the ladyboy’s directly in the back and as he walked by me he looked at me and mouthed “oh my god thank you” as he walked out and disappeared into the night never to be heard from since, and that was 5 days ago now.

They say the difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut is 2 weeks.

I’m thinking it takes significantly longer to recover from a wash’n’blow session haha.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Deepthroat Tracheotomy

Saying you want to be Face Fucked and then guiding my dildo to the side of the throat with your tongue is like trying to get a little bit pregnant.  It’s a cheap trick, it pisses me off, so don’t do it.  As the guy found out tonight you’ll be punished by me or by my ladyboy friend mercilessly.  We don’t want to hear fake moans, contrived breathing difficulties or see unnecessary thrashing of your feet and hands.

What we want, unequivocally is for you to accept the last inch, have her balls press deeply into your chin, and if that destroys your throat and makes you gag her cock back up then so be it.

So tonight even though my sissy session went great there was again nothing out of the ordinary to write about, and in fact tonight was but a sexy repeat of Monday’s session with the same person – hey what can I say, sissy cross dressers love me.  Probably because my best friend is gay, all his friends are gay, and they all love me too so I really seem to identify with that type of a session.  That being said, writing about how I fucked his ass for 1 1/2 hours straight isn’t terribly exciting stuff and since my fantastic sessions last weekend it’s been a light week with not much to write about.

Ah, but relaxing downtime is fleeting isn’t it?  

Enter stage right Mr. ‘I Wanna Be Face Fucked’ for my session because ‘i deserve it.’

Oh I’m sorry, I’ve been remiss in my details.  Did I forget to tell you that I had already ass fucked my sissy boy for an hour on Monday night this week?  So, you’ll understand why I walked home from Nana looking very much like I had to take a tremendous shit with every shaky step down soi 11 going back to my condo.  With just under 3 hours of pounding ass action under my belt – and when I say pound I do mean I like to pound – my legs, in particular my thighs and hips were seizing up on me making me feel so light headed that I felt higher than giraffe pussy.

I decided to stop into Starbucks on my soi for no other reason than to just be able to sit down for a few minutes and chill out.  As I collapsed into my chair and my feet sprung up horizontal my phone popped out of my pocket just as it started to ring.  It was kind of comical, I thought somehow my wooden legs popping up had caused it to ring, but glancing at the number I recognized it as the Face Fucking guy’s digits.  For 10 minutes he did more begging than a soi dog begs for food asking me to please fuck his mouth with my dildo.  No teasing, no ass fucking, he just wanted me to drill for oil in the back of his throat for an hour.

I called my ladyboy friend, thinking to pass the session to her but she was already in a session of her own so I reluctantly agreed since I had promised to see him even though my hips were tighter than spandex on a fat woman.  Anyways I’ve got elective surgery scheduled for next week and a second session today would pay for it in one shot which had been weighing on my mind as well.

Now in the almost 3 years I’ve been doing this, at first with the original Mistress Jaa and this year solo, I’ve yet to use fatboy – the biggest of my dildos, nobody’s been brave enough.  The last dick I saw that was as thick was a short thing though and he asked me if it was ‘sufficient.’  I said well you may never hit oil but you’ll sure bang the fuck out of the sides going in.  Anyways I bring that up because it was in that session the nana ladyboy tried to give him a blowjob and got a sore jawbone for her troubles.  I kind of wanted a quick session so I threw fatboy onto the stove and boiled him up getting him ready for a good old Texas ‘go big or go home’ type of late night.

Ever played air hockey against somebody who has no idea how to play – like me.  Play me in air hockey and I’ll just move my hand back and forth in front of my goal as fast as I can trying to deflect everything you hit at me to the side.  This guy plays with dicks the way I play air hockey.  Like I said at the beginning, if I’m putting a rubber dick the size of a coke bottle balls deep into a mouth and I don’t get some serious reaction and retraction then I know the guy is playing tongue hockey defending his throat from the final inch.

You know what remedies that?  Gravity.

By hanging his head over the end of my sofa he can defend his tonsils as much as he wants but when i squat my legs down onto his chin its pretty simple math: rubber & gravity > tongue with the added fun being that with his neck at full extension he can’t get my dildo out of his throat so easily so he has to gag it out.  Kind of important, because …

Twenty minutes into squatting onto his face my legs cramped up so suddenly and so tightly that I couldn’t move.  It wasn’t so much my legs as it was the side of my hips because the only motion I could do was to fall forward onto his chest which took the pressure off my legs and let me collapse onto his face like I was wind surfing on his body … my rudder being the dick a good 10 inches down into his throat.

Except this rudder was stuck in the ocean and while the ocean might be fine with that he was thrashing like a fish in a boat.  I had handcuffed his hands behind his back earlier and my weight pushing his shoulders over the couch i guess it looked like I was face fucking Gumby however he wasn’t gonna be able to stretch his throat free of my dildo.

I rolled off him to the back of the sofa and it was like popping a cork out of a champagne bottle, sound included.  The “pop” sound of the rubber dick first stretching his cheek out so far that he looked deformed for a second and then flicking out of his mouth followed by what I wish was champagne.

Politely he took off to my bathroom where the better part of his dinner lunch and breakfast came up into the toilet thankfully while I karate chopped some life back into my legs and did some of what was probably the worlds first Strap On Yoga stretching.

He came out of the washroom a minute later asking for something to drink so I literally shuffled to the fridge and opened my only bottle of green tea, grabbed the mop hiding beside the washing machine and intended to go back and mop up the oil on the living room floor when unexpectedly he coughed the tea back up onto the floor of my kitchen behind me.  I looked at him with my most cross ‘you have to be kidding me’ stare.

“I can’t swallow.” he said bent over at the waist, his blonde hair dangling dangerously close to the mess on the floor he had just spat up.

“Why?” I asked, completely perplexed.

“My throat won’t close” he said while bringing his right hand to his throat and in a crab claw shape he started trying to squeeze his throat as if he as self-choking himself, “it’s forced open” he continued.

“What do you need?”

“A Tracheotomy maybe.”

I had to laugh when I heard him say that.  I handed him the mop and pointed to both his two messy puddles on the floor shaking my head smiling as I did so.  “A cesarean for your throat – yup, makes sense”

“How so?” he asked back.

I undid my strap on, placed fatboy in his hands and after poking my cheek with my tongue a few times i said “Because it looks like you did get a little bit pregnant after all.”

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Law of Conservation of Matter

The reason you’re gaining weight is because I’m losing it.  Law of Conservation of Matter, it’s gotta go somewhere.

I’m reminded of  back when I was, like, 16 and had moved out of the slum village for over a year and discovered KFC enough times that I had grown a cute tummy.   But when I started losing a bunch of weight, my Gay friend who is still my best shopping partner, legitimately got mad at me because that’s how he thought the Law of Conservation of Matter really worked and he was afraid that since we did everything together, he’d end up “absorbing” some of the weight I was losing. Anyways, I lost about 1/8 of my body weight in the following 6 months or so and was sad I couldn’t lose the other 7/8ths to see if he’d bloat up!

I’ve been moody lately, and I think it mostly has to do with eating not being fun any more. The only food I can consistently eat without feeling like shit afterwards is a variation of Johnny Food (a concoction one of you subs cooked up at my condo and looks the same way going in as it does coming out, but it’s super healthy). Anyways, even with the Johnny Food, I have to eat small portions or I risk getting crampy. So I’m eating small meals of, like 80% fiber and now eating anything bad for me makes me almost instantly ill, and the other 7/8ths is now practically flying off. In no time, I’ll be too frail to get out of bed.

Having been treated to some awesome food in places like Turkey, Japan, Indonesia, New Zealand, the past couple of years and not to mention I have the Peruvian Japanese menu at Above Eleven memorized now that my favorite restaurant is my next door neighbor – I find Thai food to be bleh now.  In fact, unless it’s squid, dead or alive, I won’t eat Thai food.  Sadly, the only thing I know how to cook is Thai food so my options are to either burn down the condo learning how to make American food or spice up the food I cook such that it burns my taste buds to cinders rendering the food taste neutral, kinda like a smelly fart that doesn’t stain my panties – neutral.

As for how I’m feeling with my moods, I was doing pretty good for awhile with the Johnny Food, but then last night I got really crampy in my lower abdomen and ended up having to cancel an afternoon session because I could barely get out of bed. If I lived in a real country like Canada, I would have gone to the emergency room, but instead I played “Let’s see if it’s worse tomorrow.” Thankfully, it got a bit better, but I’m still pretty susceptible to 5 alarm farts and my bowel sounds have been pretty abnormal. I was worried that I might have a bowel obstruction, but I’m pooping and farting like a champ, so I guess everything is still moving appropriately.

I’m getting pretty sick and tired of being crampy all the time, though.

I need to have some major changes by the end of the month, one way or another. Fuck, I chose this condo because of it’s awesome gym and pool thinking I’d be wearing the exercise machines out every day once I moved in.  Since I never go what I need to do instead is buy a shotgun and a gym membership. I’m going to force myself to spend at least two hours a day at the gym on my days off, even if it’s just walking on a treadmill while watching a movie. I’m basically going to force myself to keep my abdomen active, try to get some endorphins flowing, and see what that does for my mind and body. And if that doesn’t work, well I’ll already have the shotgun. All I’ll need to do is sneak some anticoagulant from the drug store and head on out to the jungle. Even if I miss my “off switch,” I’ll still bleed out well before anyone could get me anywhere near a hospital. But maybe it won’t come to that (but if it does, I am hereby bequeathing the remaining 75% of my anal plugs to all of you).  I’ll keep one for myself as I heard a nasty rumor that we all excrete some shit when we die and I am not going out with brown smears on my g string.

Can you tell yet that my period is knocking on the door?

Seriously though a period is like coming home one day and finding that your spouse has constructed this entire new baby bedroom inside your house and you have to tell them “Sweetie we don’t have a baby” and then your spouse FLIPS THE FUCK OUT like “The FUCK do you mean we don’t have a baby I DID ALL THIS WORK” and then they spend the next week tearing the whole room apart and throwing it out into the street and screaming at you and then finally when the room is completely gutted they calm down and say “It’s okay hon we’ll have a baby next month” and then they start building the room again AND THIS SHIT KEEPS GOING FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE UNTIL YOU HIT LIKE 50 AND THEN YOUR SPOUSE LEAVES YOU BUT NOT BEFORE SETTING THE WHOLE HOUSE ON FIRE SO IT’S NEVER THE SAME AGAIN.

My fucking surgical procedure is gonna go down on Tuesday too, right at the peak of the blood Tsunami, so I’ll be both sore and sticky when I wake up.  Which of you wants to be bedside when I wake up to experience that upcoming mood?

Crickets.

Seriously this must be what it feels like just before one turns into a zombie.  So while I’m still of sane mind, I’ve been trying to quickly write about the sounding session I had and coming up with a good opener for the story has been difficult.  The only thing that popped to mind for “sounding” (warning: mixing metal tubes and your dick while i’m on a period may be hazardous) is “Drilling for oil? More like drilling your boy-hole” and I don’t think that’s funny enough so, hmm. Ok, a runner up just popped into mind: “Sticking a tube in urethra? Better urethra than my-rethra” *badoom ching* This is like comedy gold. Are you writing this down?

So ya, 20th to the 27th next week I’m not doing sessions on account that I’ll be chained to a hospital gurney.  That’s the crux of this whole babbling post.  So as I lose the last 7/8ths of myself next week and you all get fat , well now you know why.

bloody vampire xx

(down and out :  the answer to last weeks blog poll)

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> The Bastard, The Bitch, and the Virus

I am fucking gutted….. My boyfriend has decided to split up with me.

He think’s that our age gap is too big,  what, with me being 25 yo and he being 19.

I wish he told me that 10 years ago……

It’s interesting that this joke is worth a chuckle when written as-is , but if I flip it and rewrite it as such … “He think’s that our age gap is too big, what, with me being 19 and he being 48” then the comedy of the situation is replaced with a creepy pedophilia type of overtone.

Yet that’s the case in a majority of all Thai – Foreigner relationships.  Suddenly there’s no comedy or creepiness, it’s simply “ok” to which I ask … Why is it ok?

Why would a near 50 year old single – white – professionally employed male from a commonwealth nation shack up with a 20 year old impoverished Thai girl?

Well with the attractiveness levels of women around where he lives being quite a bit lower than pickings in my part of the world, he’d probably have to settle for a meth head who serves Kraft dinner to get a decent lay in his country.  Someone who has more colonoscopy results than financial results at his work desk really should have more on his mind at this point in his life than fueling his pedophilia like desires, buy hey, if there’s grass on the field – play ball, right?

You guys ask me all the time “what kind of a man do you want?”  Tongue in cheek answer … I’d say ‘one that wouldn’t consider fucking donuts simply because they have holes in them.’   What can I say, you men set the bar so low for yourself that an answer like that isn’t that far from the truth.

Having been exposed to a copious amount of ex-boyfriends, especially my latest, makes me realize all over again that the main function of the male species is the the manufacturing, distribution, package and marketing of bullshit.  Of the three manufactures of present day bullshit, religion ranks a pretty high third place losing only slightly to the second highest producer : government .. any fucking government.  So knowing that, long ago I came up with these two rules of how to shed my life of all bullshit :

1. If the person speaking doesn’t have a number on the back of a jersey , I don’t believe anything the person has to say.  Not a word.
2. Don’t watch sports.

I’m whistling by the graveyard on the last one as I just bought mlb and nhl for Jaa’s kid (to get him off my notebook for Thanksgiving break) and I have picked up a rudimentary understanding of American Football lately not to mention I’ve kind of sort of been following the All-Blacks in the Rugby World Cup.  That’s far from watching sports though I wouldn’t mind if I did because it’s the only thing that men can agree to never lie about, whether they watch or play.  Thus, rule #1.

But when it comes to bullshit, I have to drop to my knees in awe, and raise my hands to the sky in fucking awe of the biggest source of bullshit in the world : Men trying to get laid.  Notably : aging over the hill men who can no longer get laid in their own country without paying for it.  Sadly, the minority of such men are the ones who accept their age, admire the women around them and then go home and jerk themselves off.

The alternative?

The alternative course of action for this cesspool of aging men – is to get up from their accountants desks, make up a fake Facebook account that promotes a delusional younger version of themselves, book the closest hotel to Nana Plaza and fill it with wall to wall barely legal whores.

And you Americans say “all men are created equal” … stunning bullshit.

If it was just left at that … a pedophilia toned sexual immersion shrouded in anonymity, that’d be tolerable.  After all, not many of these guys call mom while their dick is still wet and say “ma, I’m 5 years from retirement and I just fucked the shit out of a broke 19 year old, are ya proud of me?”

It’s when these fucking creeps start smoothing the path to bring these university freshman girls back to their country so they can then call mom and say “ma, I’m bringin’ home a girl 60 years younger than you for dinner … and then making her my sex slave” … that’s when this guy stops being a sexual predator and fulfills his true calling in life by becoming :  A Bastard.

Naturally, every bastard needs a bitch.  A really stupid girl, one who really bought into the “its ok to be poor” kool-aid sold here and plays the unofficial national lottery called ‘fuck a foreigner to freedom’.

Luckily for these kinds of guys, my country is is a virtual KFC Chicken Farm of lottery players.  It took me all of 3 minutes to find this Craigslist ad, but truth is : whether it’s advertised or not, almost all pussy is for sale here and can be bought.  It’s sad that of the two kinds of women in the world, the minority of us are the ones who don’t need a man since we found out we can survive on our own.  But how can one even have the foresight to approach life with that mindset when we’re taught from childhood to not think for ourselves and instead encouraged openly to follow a man and have him take care of us.

I’ve spent a great deal of time this week while recovering from my surgery reading up on American ghetto life stories and seeing if they compare to village life here and from what I can assess, both lifestyles don’t really compare equally I think.  For instance,  I don’t think a black American child clinging to subsistence living in a Detroit ghetto has the same number of barriers to break down to being able to escape to a better lifestyle.  From what I’ve read, American schools all seem to be homogeneous … “school’s free so here’s the books, here’s the curriculum, good luck” which compares differently to “school costs money, and primitive patriarchal societal rules dictate that the male gets to go before the female, but that’s ok because the girl is expected to find a man to take care of her anyways.”

Let’s guarantee every family has 6-9 kids by not teaching about family planning or safe sex which will ensure perpetual poverty, which creates the perfect self-fulfilling environment of not having enough money to send every child to school, which leaves women less educated than men, which leaves us dependent upon males and too stupid to do anything about it.

I mean, it’s jaw dropping at how stunningly effective the system has indoctrinated itself.  Growing up in the village has a hopelessness to it that would compare equally to any world oppression that’s occurred if not for the sheer brilliance of having the affected not only be unaware of their plight but to fucking embrace it.

Luckily I never drank the Kool-Aid.

Telling a village girl that there are these magical people called “foreigners” who come from the second star on the right and straight on ’til dawn – who – will take a girl to actually live in one of the amazing places we see on the TV set … well, it’s just such a curious thing.  The fantasizing of such a story isn’t that far off from how tribal chief’s would tell tales of the ‘white man’ back when we lived in an aural-oral society.  (hey Dr.Green, I’ve been waiting forever to find a place to use that, that one’s for you.)

Sorry, a little shout out there to my most interesting University professor abroad who taught the most interesting class ever, even though at the time my English allowed me to understand only 20% of what he was saying  Thankfully he sat with me for hours after class on many different occasions and explained his lectures to me – perhaps wearing a thigh high skirt had something to do with the amount of time he’d devote to me in his office

But I digress.  Where was I?  Ah yes …

So we have this cute little baby sheep who’s stumbled out of the forest looking for the path to this second star on the right and she’s being scoped eyeball to eyeball through a shotgun – being held by the motherfucker bastard foreigner who’s got his finger on his dick … err, trigger.  In this case, I’m not talking about all of you, I’m talking about one particular motherfucking bastard – and one particular stupid bitch whom I tried to save from being shot.

Being a Thai lady trying to play the foreigner lottery is difficult at best.  It’s because you guys know that If you have money you can fuck her no matter how stunningly hot she is.  Stupidity means weakness and being weak means you become prey.  If this wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t be living in the sex cesspool capital of the world.

Aha, but I’m the bane of existence for foreigners seeking their female prey as no amount of money can buy me or any girl who thinks like me.  Especially when after your taxes are paid, I make 3 times as much money as any of you foreign accountants or lawyers , go figure that – a ‘lil stupid ‘ol Thai girl : my oh my.    To me, working 8-10 hours a day as a tax accountant or a tax lawyer – and then losing 1/2 of all earned money to tax is like getting fucked in the ass by the boss’s cock

Ya so I do quite well on my own thank you very much, I’m the last girl that’s ever going to be made to be a sex slave for one of these fuckers.  What a bullshit lifestyle these guys are peddling and they can get away with it because for the bitch they’re after, there simply is no other alternative.  Well there is.  She can choose to work in the factory 12 hours a day for $7 pay for the rest of her life, I mean …there’s that.

I know personally a lot of girls who are married and some even not married, but stay with the foreigner in his country because they hope and believe that her man will faithfully give her money and she will have realized the lottery winners life of dreams where she’ll have money, maybe even enough to send back to her family and rescue them as well.  I can tell you absolutely that to each one of them, they don’t give a flying fuck where he’s from, what his job is, how old he is, or what his behavior is like.  That’s why you often see a 22 year old girl allowing herself to be groped by a man old enough to be her grandfather.

They’ve been sold a fake ticket, each and every one of them, save one.

The fact is, if you are a girl and you can’t speak your husbands language but opt to go live in his country, how can one communicate with his family or friends?  If the guy is of any social class back home, would he even venture to introduce her to anyone in his inner circle?  If the girl didn’t even go to school here in the first place, how can she hope to find any sort of job there whatsoever, or if she’s assumed the housemaid role, then how can she have the skill to go buy food for herself if she’d get hungry?

Well of course they’ll all answer the same just as they do when I bring it up to them on their Facebook pages, “it’s very easy I just wait for my husband!”

That uniform reply is the very definition of ROFLMAO (rolling on the floor laughing my ass off)

So let’s get this straight shall we.  You go to his country yet you can only stay in his house and wait for him to patiently to give you some money – which he does once an appropriate amount of washing, cooking, cleaning and most importantly – fucking has been done in exchange.

Hmm, let’s call that for what it really is:  A fuck slave.

Isn’t it?

Luckily, guys who are looking for fuck slaves are a dumb lot.  Always looking to trade up to a better quality of sheep – and in their eyes I’m the gold ribbon superstar sheep that they all want to fuck, so to get one of these fucktards to lie to their girlfriends enough to come sniffing in my backyard is as easy as dangling a potato chip in front of a fat kid.  Using my sexy-as-fuck ass to get these guys to bite at supporting me instead of their other girlfriend is a truly wonderful thing, as I long ago came up with a way to fuck these guys over in a way that hurts them more than blowing their balls off with a shotgun would.

Truth be told, I’m more than fucking bitter that years … goddammit … years of bullshit texting, talking, emailing – and all that was involved in my latest sting blew up in my face by accident.  That’s fine, I have other ways to destroy that fucker’s life.  But it was this setback that left me thinking … “if I have a deadly virus, why the hell would I try to infect people one by one, wouldn’t it be better to go all Scarecrow-like and infect the entire world?”

So as I’ve hinted at before, I’m indeed one of the principal shit disturbers in a private closed locked Facebook group of girls that totals over 300,000 of us – and the focus of the group is to warn our kind by exposing these playboy bastards for who they are.  Hell there’s even copycat groups out there now so the total is well over a million of us chicks who are in the know.

But fuck.  All that’s done until lately was alert the sheep of the wolves that have been spotted so they can be avoided.

What was needed was a way to show the sheep they can indeed slay the wolf.  How?  Simple, one must simply disguise themselves as a wolf in sheep’s clothing to draw them in.  So I’ve recently – August to be exact – posted a step-by-step post of how to slay the wolf instead of hiding from it.  I’m so unbelievably happy with myself that as of this week we’ve collectively slain our 100’th wolf in what has been just a little over 2 months time

By kill … I mean , I’ve taught the sheep that if these guys are all Al Capone, all we have to do is be a group of Eliot Ness’s.  So what we’ve done is fucked up their ability to sponsor anyone to visit his country for 5 years.

All we have to do is get these guys to sponsor us for any type of visit be it marital, educational, tourist, whatever – it’s all gravy.  As once they’ve signed on the bottom line and that ever so sweet visa comes back as being APPROVED , fuck ya.  They’re done.  Rip up the plane ticket and send it to them by mail with the photo of his other sweetheart – then sit back and watch these guys first go ape shit mad when we announce we have no intention of going, nor did we ever.  Then, be it weeks or months later, get to enjoy it on a much larger scale of rage when they finally see what the master plan was all along and they’re little fuck toy can’t visit until she has bona fide hair she can grow on her pussy.  It’s like enjoying a destructive tremor before the full blown earthquake hits.

A pittance you say?  Well considering that the average age of these guys is 50 something years stupid, adding 5 years of having to travel here to be able to fuck pussy either puts them over 60 or close enough to it that their “ick” factor virtually triples in value by the time they can lure a sheep back home again.  It’s not so much of a direct hit as it is a shot across the bow saying “fuck as many sheep as you want, but pick the wrong one and it might just be the sheep that’s fucking you.”

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Death | A Mouse Click Away

A most unclean thought not only invades my dreams every night now but it permeates the furthest corners of my mind the way a storm would displace sunshine.  I don’t like to hurt anybody or anything and I’m the type of girl who would sidestep an ant and as recently as last week I took thirty minutes to help a moth escape from my bathroom to my balcony so it could live on.  I love life and I believe all life is sacred and probably the very reason I do this job if we get right down to it is to help people feel better, I’m like a therapist and a quick search for that word in my gmail reveals that 22 people I’ve seen this year consider me to be exactly that for them.

With some people I’m 1000 emails into discourse with, taking the time each and every day to not only discuss any number of topics but sometimes to just be a sounding board that they can bounce their day to day gripes off of.  I do so without thought of gaining future revenue by being there for them I just do it because I tend to concern myself with others more than I’m concerned about myself.  I think that to be truly happy one should acquire an honest interest in the other person and always try to see the good in them.

Though, I’ve recently come across not one but two people that are just downright evil.  In fact, they go far beyond evil.  They are life-shattering people, and more than that … they are fully cognizant of their evilness.

It’s been a week since I’ve written anything for this blog, and even these guys that I email every day have felt this haunting change in my discourse with them but they haven’t been able to put their finger on what exactly is wrong with this sweet therapist that enchants their lives every day.  My answer is that  I can’t write when my heart is besieged with hatred, a feeling of malice toward two individuals so severe that in my dreams I am not judge and jury over their lives, I am their executioner.

As I wrote to my girlfriend the other day “he simply needs to be hurt” in talking about the first person i’m referencing.  Here’s the weirdest goddamn thing though, and to understand this thing you have to know how my brain thinks.  For instance, I don’t play with Ouija boards; do you know why?  I don’t know one way or another if there are evil spirits in some other dimension – I don’t propose to know and I don’t have a strong opinion either way.  But I sure as hell am not going to start playing with the fucking thing and become a possible conduit to that realm.  I don’t believe in doing or saying anything that invites trouble as doing so is usually a self fulfilling prophecy.

So when I recently described the first evil cunt as an “evil pedophile like creature” and didn’t immediately erase it in my first draft, I think that whatever spirit there is that lurks over my shoulder and saw me write that sought it upon itself to introduce to me what evil really is.

Like fuck.  Motherfucker.  How does one get enjoyment out of shattering a life?

You know, with all my sessions packed into 2 days this week I’ve been playing this game called The Witcher , though I’m not a gamer girl I just love anything to do with Witching, magic, fantasy type stuff , heck I even went by myself yesterday to see The Witch Hunter to get my mind off things.  Anyways, in this game along the main plot I had to make a decision whether or not to kill this Botchling, a deformed and discarded evil baby and though it made this quest impossibly difficult – for me anyways – by choosing to save the creature I couldn’t even bring myself to destroy such a life in a video game.

Then I realized, some things just need to be put out of their misery.  I went back in the story line and this time while holding a sword to the baby’s head I imagined what either of these two fucklings would say if it was them at the end of my sword and I asked “how did you get enjoyment out of shattering a life?”  They’d either smile or laugh, I’m sure of it as they are without understanding of the consequence of their actions.

I sat there with my mouse holding the sword to this thing’s skull for minutes on end until the mouse click finally became an emotionless thing to do.  After a great deal of time contemplating life and its inherent meaning and importance I drove my sword through its skull and in doing so came to terms with the fact that for me it wasn’t just the right decision – in the end it was the only decision.

Right now these two entities are thousands of miles away from me.  Eventually, they’ll both make the mistake of coming here.  When they do, and I’m face to face with either of them finally, their fate is as simple as a mouse click away.

moreevilthanyou xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> 5050 Chastity Lottery

Emo was a lower class woman from the poverty stricken village living on an income that made her ration the spoons of rice she could feed herself with each day.  That being said, she was happy with her lot in life, and after crunching down on a handful of fried crickets she and her mom had dug up by hand a few hours earlier she lit a candle and read herself to sleep under the sloped tin roof of her open air shack.

“Have you seen the numbers child?” her mom said nudging on her shoulder as the first embers of sunlight flickered through the midnight blue sky.

The lump in Emo’s throat thumped hard as it dropped suddenly to the lower bowels of her intestine putting a sudden pressure of stress square on her abdomen.  “Have you checked?” she said squinting at her mother through one half opened eye.

“No but the newspapers are in front of the store already, shall we look?”

“No” she thought but Emo dragged herself to her knees anyway and began fumbling with her right hand under the soggy mattress while her left hand rubbed clarity back into her eyes.  “I can’t read it mom, the numbers are wet and smudged” she said holding the lottery ticket in her hand which looked very much the way a wet tissue would floating at the top of a toilet bowl.

“4945050” her mom said as she took the wet ticket, folded it unnecessarily, and tucked it into the strap of her bra.

“Ok let’s go look.” and they scurried out of the shack down the pitch black dirt trail that led to the village store.

Emo had faith that she would never win the lottery but her mother did.  Mom would go search the woods out back of their hut for hours looking for any sign of numbers from a deity that would guide her to choose the winning ticket.  Always she would come back with a piece of bamboo whose roots would somehow in her eye make out the number 331 or as was the case this past week, a symmetrical like stone that perhaps was curved enough to make an outline of the number 5 on the left and what could be the right half of a 0.  Her mother had spent days on end searching vendor after vendor for a number sequence ending in 5050, all the while holding her prized rock over the tickets as she scanned for the numbers 5-0-5-0.  Whether the numbers would be the same numbers picked were almost irrelevant at this point as the photo she uploaded to her Facebook page had acquired over 13,000 likes in the past few days leading upto the lottery.  The most likes she had ever gotten before was 4,000 the time she uploaded two plops of pig dung that had fallen from the swine’s ass and landed in a 169 pattern.

“Oh God” her mom gasped making the sound one would make with a dying breath.  “It was a sign” she said with a voice of hollow disbelief.

“Is it really”? Emo managed to say suddenly holding back tears and standing with a gaping mouth, her hands maternally sliding down to cup her tummy under her navel.

“Yes, yes” her mom said in an increasingly louder voice and then “YES” again.  “494…50…50 look, look for yourself, LOOK.”

It was true.  The numbers in the top corner of the newspaper coincided exactly with the numbers on the soggy lottery ticket but rather than react in any manner that exuded excitement she let the ticket slip through her fingers and fall to the ground as she took a jerking step away from it the way a kid would jump away having stumbled upon a field of prickly plants.

“No, no I won’t do it, I won’t.  I just … won’t” Emo sobbed.  She was immediately snapped out of her sorrow by the smack of her mother’s hand across her right cheek.  The poverty, the hunger, the sleeping under a leaky makeshift tilted roof, the many holed running shoes, she was happy with it all for she was three years away from finishing school and then in her dreams 3 more years away from university which ultimately would be her proper lottery ticket out of the village.  Not this sham, this mockery of freedom, an authoritarian devised lottery “gifting” the female winner the right to give birth.  Horror filled her eyes as she saw curious faces poking out through the dawn lit windows attracted by the commotion her mother was making.  “They’ve heard, oh for fuck sakes the whole village will know in a matter of minutes now” she thought.

“The monkeys will be lining themselves up around the block to be the one to get me pregnant” she considered and then winced at the thought of such a sight.  More pictures came flying into her imagination, each more disgusting and vile than the one prior.  She envisioned herself in a few years time at 18 years old with a baby in each arm and one at her foot.  The way it had always been in the village for any girl once she had bled.  But that was before the lottery.  The lottery was freedom, it was a shield, as any man impregnating a non lottery winner would be put in chastity or castrated.  For Emo the new law was a guaranteed lottery ticket to freedom, to wealth, to opportunity.

“Who fucking wins a lottery, tell me, who fucking wins a lottery.” Emo screamed at her mom with the force of a thousand disappearing dreams.

“It’s a good thing sweetheart, you must embrace it, you are chosen for a reason.” her mom said holding the rock up high to the sky.

“Because you found a fucking rock is that why?  Is that your reason?  Fuck you.  Fuck you I was free.  I was free.” she shrieked and hung onto the last vowels of the word free until the air ran completely from her lungs after which she sunk to her knees as it began to rain.

Men started out of their shacks for houses shuffling towards the ruckus making a growing circle of peering eyes at the two.  Her mom, realizing the danger, reached down to pull her young daughter up from the ground but as she did so she was shaken off as Emo rolled her shoulder away and curled her back towards her mom in a Quasimodo type of stance.  It was then that she too noticed the growing throng of onlookers all whispering among themselves as they looked at Emo and the limp lottery ticket still laying on the ground at her feet.

“You” Emo said, pointing a finger at no one in particular, but addressing all at the same time.

“You would begrudge me every last bit of happiness” she hissed accusingly.  Yet the crowd ventured forward, the circle around her and her mother tightening with every shuffle of the mob.  It made no matter that the majority of the men were either already eunuchs or were permanently locked in their chastity cages, for the few who weren’t would be enough to fill her with endless seed in a matter of moments.

Emo reached down and snatched the ticket up in her fingers, holding it out for them all to see.  Once the crowd saw the lottery ticket being held in the air a murmur of frenzied excitement shuddered through them.

“The lottery ticket is hers, NOT MINE” she screamed at the top of her lungs while turning and stuffing it down the front of her mothers shirt tearing it in the process.

Then, stepping backward away from her mom she whispered the words “I’m sorry” repeatedly through a stream of tears as her mom was hoisted into the air and the rock she had been clinging to dropped harmlessly to the ground.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Golden Horse Shits Silver Bricks

t………..e@web.de
Nov 16 (1 day ago)

to me
sry hon
its just for this amount 7,000 baht i buy myself
a golden horse and let it shit silver bricks until sunset .)

Of course then I send him my photo gallery.  Suddenly he immediately tries to book me and instead of his golden horse he budgets for a rubber rat that doesn’t shit anything.  Still though, he’s a bit short on cash …

dear mistress – goddess

who is this on the pics
you miss ?
you would do that tease session with me
omg
i am dying – you are so beautiful………..
would you do that session for the estimated price
4000 bat teries

pleeaaaassee say yes
i short of a heart attack
in awe ..regards

Haha, 4,000 baht was my fee when I was a Jr.Mistress under the original Mistress Jaa, that is the fee for Mistress Wael as I still feel she is in training and until her English catches up to my level that’ll be the Jr Mistress fee.  You pay for beauty, or in my case you’re paying for the hottest ass in this country.  <—- Notice how I use the word “this”.  I’ve long since absolved myself of referring to where I’m located as the possessive pronoun “my”.  In fact, I went out of my way to find a poppy to wear for Canada’s Remembrance Day November 11th and I’ll be cooking a Turkey on the 28th to celebrate American Thanksgiving.

Why the 28th and not the 26th – the actual day Thanksgiving falls on?  Well for one, I’m eating my Thanksgiving dinner by myself so I’m not exactly inconveniencing anyone.  Secondly, I’ll be watching “The Game” on the 28th if only to laugh that a football team named itself after a nut tree.  Go Michigan!

Other than that, well I’m reaching for things to write about as though it’s been a packed week there’s nothing exceptional out of the sessions I’ve had that would make up a full story, and the one that was ridiculously fun, I’m not allowed to write about it which sucks donkey balls.  I’m gonna hand out my first bravery award … I hereby knight thee Marco as the bravest submissive ever as he became the first guy to endure a very painful full 2 hours of being locked inside my spiked chastity until he reached orgasm.

When you’re locked inside a spiked chastity, the harder your cock gets the more painful the session becomes and really there’s only two ways to achieve an orgasm in such a device.  One is the quicker way of allowing me to jack you off while you scream bloody murderous pain and have the palm of my other hand coerce the cum from your balls.  The much much longer and surely more torturous way to enjoy an orgasm is to let me play with the tip of your protruding cock by rolling the penis head in my fingers.  Pulling you to an orgasm that way is as slow as watching a herd of snails travelling through peanut butter.

The orgasm when extracted this way is a bitter-sweet symphony of pain and pleasure as the meticulous throbbing of your cock as it tries to launch the cum up your shaft allows the chastity’s spikes to simultaneously dig deep into the cock’s sensitive skin producing what truly is a mind numbing orgasm.  So congrats to him for summiting Everest so to speak as all guys previous to him had failed to endure the painful approach to climax.

Apart from that I want to say that I’m really proud of Mistress Wael for softly diffusing a very dangerous situation for her and walking away from it not only unscathed but with the ability to laugh at what happened nonchalantly.

You guys … by that categorization I’m referring to anyone submissive or who is allured to Femdom are very much a respectable crowd of gents.  Just because we all have our secret fantasies that don’t gel with mainstream societies idea of what is “proper”, it doesn’t by any stretch of the imagination mean that we are freaks and thus deviate to abnormal behavior because of our devilish desires.  I’m including myself in the freakish category as I have some very anti-confirmatory like female fetishes as well , one of which I’ve written about at length.  So though originally Jaa and now me have been operating sessions from this website for 6 years now, there hasn’t been more than 2 cases where a guy acted highly improper.  It’s a fascinating statistic considering that I’ve done well over 1000 sessions now and I’d say original Mistress Jaa had over 10,000 sessions in her span.

So it’s not a surprise that it was not one of “our” group of guys but one of Mistress Wael’s contacts from her brief time working in a massage shop that forced himself upon her this week.  The whore seeking crowd is less obnoxious at these shops but only slightly.  My tenure at such a shop lasted all of 2 weeks when I all but twisted the baby finger off of a guy who tried to touch my ass inappropriately and wasn’t invited back to work thereafter.  Hers was a bit longer having found that the pay is double than what she made as a chef, unfortunately she accumulated quite the parasitic fungal type of male contact list and I’ve finally been able to rid her of every last one of these scumbags.

Except she got contacted by one this week and on her own went to visit him at his hotel.  Not 10 minutes into the massage part of her session he reached up and by grabbing hold of her body he reversed the position with him on top and trying to insert himself inside of her.  I’ve told you before, Wael is a blue belt in Gracie Jiu Jitsu, I bring her to all my wrestling sessions because it’s exhausting for guys to fight her.  I’ve fucked many an ass as reward for winning such a session simply because as a general rule, guys egos vastly overstate how well they can do in a real fight with little or no training whatsoever.

When she told me the story of what happened from the point where he tried to force himself inside of her I was visibly upset and wanted to immediately get some revenge but was not only calmed by how she told her side of the story but I was shocked at how she giggled.

“It was like playing with a baby.”  she said.

When I asked her how that is possible since he was so big by her description she said “a guy cannot control my hips and focus on fucking at the same time, he has to choose.”  So be it, he braced his hand on her stomach as he aimed his cock and that according to her is the “one arm in – one arm out” position that sets up a leg triangle and a couple of seconds later he was beginning to pass out slumping limply to one side.  She released her lock, shrimped away and made it to standing distance without hurting him at all.

“I don’t need to hurt him just because he is horny.” she said.  I said what if he tried to hit you.  She put me in her triangle and ya … striking is about the last thing on my mind, other things like fear of dying are more prevalent lol.

Ya fuck, she’s really coming along with her confidence.  I had one sort of situation where the guy was just persistent with his touching and though he never tried something physical like this guy did I found digging my nails into his testicles until they bled rather effective as my form of self defense.

Finally, what’s with all these people changing their Facebook profile pic to a montage of their face with the French flag.  Nobody did a montage of Kenya’s flag earlier this year when that university massacre went down.  I abhor such violence, but to pay special homage to a certain event due to geographical location.  Fuck that.  Here’s a better idea, figure out where the violence never ever occurs and take lessons from them.

For instance, you know how I avoid bad sessions?  Not only do I have filters that instantly delete emails coming in from certain originating countries, the ones that do somehow manage to slip through I pay absolutely no attention to.

“Ya but some snakes don’t bite, you can have them as pets, they’re safe…really.”

You know how you defeat that argument?  You don’t let a fucking snake in your house period.  At all.  Ever.  That way you’re absolutely sure of one thing … you’ll never get bit.

omg. haha

I’m so opinionated.  At least I have one, more than can be said for the swarms of lemmings I walk among every day here, and hey … you don’t need a golden horse that shits silver bricks to meet or date any of them.  But if you wanna hang out for Thanksgiving and watch a football game with a hot–as–fuck–chick while munching on some Villa bought Turkey that I’ll claim I made myself, come on over.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> The Findom – Castration Correlation

So you want to be castrated?   No, here’s a far better idea – one that is guaranteed to not only immortalize you in social media until the end of time but will simultaneously make your 1 inch dick the least looked at part of your body even as your video becomes the most watched in the internet’s history.  That’s what you want right?  You’d do anything to divert attention from your pathetic little worm of a dick, so much so that cooing about the size of your wallet hasn’t led to any satisfaction and you’d rather just be rid of the little worm.  Relax, we’re gonna fix that right now.

By far, the most confounding part of being a mistress is trying to match reason to why FinDom guys suddenly appear at my doorstep, drop thousands of dollars at my feet in a ridiculously short amount of time.  Which in turn gets me to extrapolate just how insane my year end revenue totals are going to be, so much so that on more than one occasion this year I’ve contemplated what retirement will be like at age 29.  Then, just like that, they’re gone.  Disappearing just as quickly as they materialized – leaving me with a pile of money that could have been ‘oh so much more’.

Then the self analysis sets in, the second guessing of what it was they wanted that I didn’t fulfill, followed by endless research of how to manage this part of the business in a more effective way.  Finally I come to the conclusion every time that I’d have an easier time trying to strap on fuck a Hippo in his ass than make sense of how a FinDom’s brain works.  So to that end, rather than spend any more time trying to solve my problems I’m instead going to solve theirs.  I’m gonna do that by making their exposed dick the most non watched part of a video that’s going to in the end surpass PSY – Gangnam Style’s 2.5 billion hits.

Let’s start by listing the materials you’ll need to stage the world’s most remarkable smut video ever shot.

1. Super Glue
2. Chicken Wire
3. Rope
4. Video Camera

Got all that?  Great.  So here’s what you’re gonna do.  You only need one sharp strip of the chicken wire – the thinner the better, and with it you’re going to make a loop that fits snugly around your neck – be careful not to make it too tight as we want to avoid any unnecessary chafing.  To this loop you’re going to add a liberal amount of rope, say about 20 meters as we want to give gravity and acceleration a good amount of time to build up as you descend towards infamy.

Now, strip.  Reveal to the world – remember over 2.5 billion viewers – the pathetic bump you have for a dick and trust in me that not one of those viewers is going to pay any heed to the source of your humiliation.

At this point you need to seek out a very high bridge – one where your buddy can also find a good location to film you from far away.  Two parallel bridges a few hundred meters apart from one another running high above a river comes to mind as a perfect example.  Once your buddy is in position and gives you the hand signal that they’re filming you need to slip the chicken wire around your neck and secur
e the end of the rope to the railing of the bridge.

Now for the brilliance of the idea.

You’re gonna apply a tube of super glue to each of palm of your hands making sure they are covered fully before attaching the hands to the face cheeks.  Once the glue has set – we’re all set to go.  Climb up over the railing – make sure you get the ‘ok’ sign from the guy videoing this – and jump off.  People will think you lost your mind – literally.

Come on!  That’s better than a fire hydrant pissing on a dog.  At the very least it’s better than coming to me asking for a simple castration.  Hey what’s more scary, the fact that I’ve had 25 guys ask me to castrate them this year or that I’ve studied in-depth on how to do it properly?  haha.

In total, 23 of the 25 asking to be castrated dropped varying amounts of money at my feet and all but 2 have long since vanished, never to be heard from again.

The only 2 guys who have been paypig worthy in terms of loyalty are the only two who did not ask for castration in the first place, Benny and Marco.  That’s a bit of an anomaly don’t you think?  I mean, if it wasn’t for those two guys I’d absolutely believe that there is a strict correlation between castration and Findom.

Coincidentally, do you know from which country I get the most emails asking to be paypigs but who never follow through?  Italy.

From which country do I get the least emails asking the same, but follow through the most often?  Americans.

What guys want to have their dicks lopped off the most often?  French dudes.

The rest of the world seems to be quite happy with their package down there, but I have my Burdizzo Cutter ready just in case one comes a callin’

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Smart Ass Mistress

Since I’ve been busier than a cat trying to cover shit on cement the only fun I’ve had in my life recently has come from replying to my email.  For the most part, sharing my photo gallery privately instead of publicly has really improved the quality of the email inquiries I’ve received and I’ve really enjoyed having some extremely long email threads with guys exploring in great depth both their fantasies and life in general and it’s made for some very personal and intimate sessions which I’ll get to writing about this week.  Intimate as in, there is so much information that has been shared before the session that it feels often like I’m seeing a person I’ve known for years so there is no need for acting.

That’s exactly what needs to take place for a truly moving experience to take place, there has to be a comfortableness so great that all the pretentious bullshit gets left at the door and for 2 hours we can just be ourselves.

What’s curious is that in order to get that level of depth I’ve had to remove the visual cue men are so attracted to and instead appeal to their intelligence – which for me was a great leap of faith since I admit that while I’m above most other Thai’s when it comes to having discourse about all things intelligent, I hardly compare to what you guys bring to the table for discussion.  I’ve had to rely on my writing to get through to you, which again is amazing since my first drafts that I type or speak into my phone are barely comprehensible even to myself.  After each and every session I pretty much dump my thoughts to my phone like poop through a diarrhea infected goose.

I’m not rehashing everything that happened in the session either, rather I pick out concepts – ideas which I think I explored and open up to bigger topics – which if I write about and expand upon it helps me be a better mistress in the future – at least that’s the plan.

However, as much as I’m thrilled with all the sophisticated gents who are showing up for sessions I still get the odd inquiry from guys who haven’t scored since the eighth grade picnic.

If I can sum up what’s changed the most about me this full year as Head Mistress here is that whereas I used to try to reply calmly hoping to not miss out on revenue I’ve since come to realize that getting an intelligent reply out of these guys is as hopeful as trying to squeeze oil out of a cats ass.

It ain’t happening.

At most, they’re amusing to me and that’s fine as it allows me to answer business email the way I’ve always wanted to talk to assholes when I worked in the public sector.

Business isn’t any worse for the wear in me doing so, and for me it’s fun being a smart ass.   Like this guy who comes from the country or perhaps planet called Khi.

……………………………..
Introduce Yourself : Your name, age, and country :  Hi, Im Maho from Khi and 32 male
What are your interests for your session ? im intrested in full body to body massage and relaxing anal, prostate and related things.
With whom would you like your session ?Mistress Jaa & Wael both
Choose the time period you are interested in listed here from least to most expensive : 2 hour double mistress session 10,000 baht
Pick a Date 25-11-2015
Email

…………………………..
From where? Khi? Is that on this planet or some other planet?

Also, you booked the session for November 25th , that was 3 days ago.

I can only assume that on planet Khi they’re still working out the kinks on time travel. At least you got the year right, high five babe.

Khi ain’t no country I ever heard of, they speak English in Khi?  I should have said that to him … but guys I tried watching Pulp Fiction and fuck if that isn’t the most boring movie I’ve ever seen I don’t know what is.  I think that’s a movie for dudes, because it does absolutely nothing for me whatsoever.

Hey, know what else doesn’t do it for me?  Poppers or any other kind of drug.  I live (not by choice) in the land of the two C’s – Crazy and Corruption.  While I can’t do anything about the Crazy –

I can do something about making sure the corruption never comes to my front door however …

………………………………………

Introduce Yourself : Your name, age, and country :  Sven 37 German
What are your interests for your session?   Anal dildo Poppers
With whom would you like your session?
Choose the time period you are interested in listed here from least to most expensive 2 hour :  , 7,000 baht with Mistress Jaa
Pick a Date 01-12-2015

………………………………………

Anal Dildo Poppers sounds like a new product that I should sell at a BDSM store.

1) insert dildo into the ass.

2) feel the cool rush as the dildo ejaculates poppers directly into your anal blood stream

For a limited time, buy your Anal Dildo Popper and receive our anal insemination kit free.

While supplies last.

Some conditions may apply.

From Johnson & Johnson.

Seriously, anal i do … whatever strap on you like. But I’m against having someone, anyone, bring anything illegal into my residence. And silly as it may be, poppers are illegal here.

So if you can drop the poppers bit, we can do a session just fine. Let me know if you want to talk about it ok.

jaa xx

Never heard back from him.  I guess my Anal Dildo Popper machine is about as popular to him as the Bass-O-Matic :

Let me say though that there are times where I’m completely wrong about the guy and the impression of him that I’m getting through email is nowhere close to what the guys is like if I meet him.  It’s very rare thing that I agree to meet somebody once I’ve lost my mood with him in email but in the end I did agree to see this guy I’m about to introduce to you.  To be perfectly frank, I agreed to see him for only two reasons : to actually do what I promised to do to his phone and to kick him so hard his kids would be born dizzy.

It’s self-evident whom is speaking to whom, just follow along , (sorry but copy pasting something this long from gmail isn’t allowing me to space it out nicely for some reason)

Supreme Mistress, thank You for the fabulous video. It s ok fir The ballbusting sessione this 28th at 4pm. I need to make a video of the ballbusting session in which You and me show our faces. Is it possibile?
Best regards.

……………………………

So 4pm tomorrow , me and Mistress Wael at my condo , 10k , ballbusting session … confirmed. No video taping though.

……………………………

Supreme Mistress, how much for the ballbusting session if I stay 15 minutes?

……………………………
i can charge you 4,000 for an hour. You’ll want to stay longer. Every guy who has been scared has been so turned on that he has stayed the whole 2 hours and enjoyed it.

……………………………
Supreme Mistress, I need the ballbusting video with Your face

……………………………

Supreme Mistress, no problem for 1 hour for 7000, but I need to make a video of The ballbusting session with The face of The two Mistress. Neverthless, I would pay only one Mistress for 4000

……………………………
and I already told you that I don’t allow myself to be video taped

……………………………
No problem, Supreme Lady, but in this case, I would pay 5000 for having both of You for a ballbusting session for 1 hour.

……………………………
I’m going to take the other 2 sessions on offer tomorrow and pass on yours. I’m not Manchester United and this isn’t a contract negotiation. I’d rather book the others, make 14k on the day and go shopping in the evening. You can keep your 5k in your pocket and do the same

……………………………
Please, Supreme Mistress, forgive me! I will come tomorrow for 7 k!!

……………………………
Well we’re kind of fucked now as I have to find a time to see you, I’ve booked the other 2 people already. I’d have to move them both an hour later to free up time in the late afternoon at 4 or 5 pm, that’s the only option

……………………………
Supreme Mistress, I humbly ask You forgiveness for the inconvenience! Are You available Sunday?

Can I take a friend of mine who iwill filming with mobile the ballbusting session?

……………………………

Sunday is booked

……………………………
Supreme Mistress, could I have the great honor to come to You today?

……………………………
Why? You keep saying you NEED to make a video , and I’ve told you 100 times, I don’t do videos.

……………………………
Supreme Goddess, don’t worry: its enough that only Your colleague shows her face while You are destroying my testicles.

……………………………

if you bring a video camera i’m going to throw it out my 20th floor balcony window.

……………………………
Supreme Queen, I would use only a phone

……………………………
then it’s being tossed out the window.

……………………………
Good morning, Mistress! It’s ok if I give You 7000 for an hour session of ballbusting with you and Miss Wale and for making a video with my cell phone taking only with me and Miss Wale? if so, what time should I come?
Best regards.

……………………………
yes sure, and then as I told you before, I am throwing your phone off my balcony window. We’ll see if phones can fly.

……………………………
Supreme Lady, please, I’m ready for today. May I come for The ballbusting session? Ok Supreme Mistress, at what time You are aviable?

……………………………
you should go see Mistress Wael at her place. She only lives on the 7th floor, your phone may survive the toss.

……………………………
Ok, Supreme Mistress, What time?

……………………………
If you can make it to my condo at 7:30 we can do the session before my next session begins

……………………………
Supreme Mistress is 8:30 ok?

……………………………
Ya fine, I need the extra hour to sharpen the spikes on my shoes. At this point I want each and every one to be razor fucking sharp.

……………………………

Mistress Wael lands a direct hit.

So 8:30 pm rolls around and he shows up with his friend at my condo, 2 sweet if not cute Italian guys who can’t stop gawking at my ass and whispering “Bellisima” over and over again.  I invited the guy up but made his friend take a hike.  The whole time up in the elevator he can’t stop staring at my ass and pussy because I was wearing my sexy cop uniform which the last time I wore it at Climax nightclub for Halloween I had literally half the guys in the club buying my drinks and trying to rub themselves up against me.  So here’s this shy guy, way out of his comfort zone and unable to talk as his English is barely passable so I suddenly felt awful at wanting to toss this guys phone out the balcony window.

My anger had subsided which I was thankful for as the last ballbusting session – which I thought had ended without incident – ended up with the guy going to the hospital afterwards and he’s no longer able to have kids.  That was much, much different than the sexy teasing way I often do where I make the cock and balls as hard and therefore as tight skinned as possible before giving love taps with my shoe to blend dizzying pain with pleasure.  That last guy challenged me to kick him as hard as I could, thinking my small body couldn’t generate enough power to inflict any pain of consequence.  Sadly for him, I have a great Muay Thai trainer.

I was wrong about him, he was teddy bear cute.  I can share the whole video privately if you want to see it, just let me know, but I will tell you that the funniest thing to me was that through all the pain he simply couldn’t stop staring at my pussy like it was The Holy Grail.  

A few well placed kicks put an end to the gawking though , don’t worry – it was just a flesh wound

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Fucking Mr.Grey | #5 Session in 2015

“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

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Red Fish Blue Fish | A Mistress Displaced

It is strange to be known so universally, and yet to be so lonely.

Silent night, holy night … well for me – silent for sure as I sit here listening to the only sound in my condo, a rhythmic dropping of water from the kitchen sink to keep me company.  There is no other time of year that slaps me across the face harder, reminding me every second of this torturous two week holiday break just how lonely the lifestyle of a mistress is.

Actually I misspoke.

“How lonely the lifestyle of this mistress is”  I should say as I speak only for myself and not anyone else to be certain.  There are no friends houses for me to go visit and no nice Christmas dinners to be enjoyed, I instead am picking at a 5 baht bag of sticky rice sitting here beside my 20th story balcony window wearing my long purple tshirt that barely covers my knees upon which I precariously balance this laptop.  I’m leaning my head against the top of the sofa gingerly as to not disturb my perfectly set new hairstyle which conveniently ate away 3 hours of time at the salon earlier today.  Now I’m just waiting for the earliest moments of twilight to assure me the sun will indeed rise and I’ll make it through this eerily still night that brings with it Christmas morning.

To pick myself up I’ve just gone through my emails to re read all the well wishes you guys have sent me so far this December …

“Thank you for what was a most amazing session, I cannot wait to come back next year and see you again.”

“I had a wonderful time, both at dinner and in the session but I have to admit I enjoyed talking to you far more as you are by far the most interesting girl I’ve met in Bangkok.”

“Deciding not to chicken out and meet you was the best thing I’ve ever done of all my times in Bangkok.  You are so interesting to talk to and I’ll be back in February to see you again.”

“I don’t know if I’m more spellbound by your beauty or your intelligence.  I’ll be back again to find out.”

Blue fish.  Blue fish.  Blue fish.  Blue fish.  Thank you for your comments but they’re all coming from blue fish dudes.

Bah, I’d usually screenshot the sms chat from which those quotes came from but I can’t be bothered.  If you don’t believe me by now, it’s out of my hands and anyways I have no reason to lie.  For a year I’ve poured my heart out into each story giving truthful accounts of both my feelings and my experiences so I can relay to those interested what it is exactly like walking in the same shoes that the original Mistress Jaa left me with before this lifestyle all but consumed her.

But I’ve done that story after story for a different reason than her.  I’ve made it clear haven’t I?  Maybe I’ve been too clever in my writing, expecting people to read between the lines, and when I sat down to write Fatal Attraction, one of my most popular blog posts, I all but said what’s bothering me but to no avail.

If I’m to believe what all the guys tell me at face value, I’m “the most beautiful girl they’ve ever seen” and I’m “by far the most interesting girl” anyone’s ever talked to in this part of the world.  Yet here I am at the end of yet another year, single, alone, lonely, unmarried.  Geez, I feel like the girl at the dance who never gets asked.  Well that’s not altogether true, I do get asked, about once or twice a day on average actually, but all blue fish and not a single red one to be found.

Huh?

I’m a lone red fish swimming in a sea of blue fish.  I have the traits of an American, Commonwealth, or European girl … you know : educated , opinionated , confident , independent , financially secure.  Shit like that which would make me as much a red fish as girls from say, a USA University are.  Trouble is, the guys who swarm to this part of the world aren’t looking for a red fish, they’re looking for a blue fish.

A real stupid, subservient, but beautiful blue fish.

In fact, you guys travel half way around the planet to go fishing here because you can basically put a tire at the end of your fishing pole, it simply doesn’t matter, you’re going to catch a blue fish no matter what.  There’s quite literally millions of blue fish bred and raised in the “yes sir, yes sir, three bags full sir” school farms here.

I get it, I do, really.  From your perspective, why wouldn’t you want a girl way way way out of your league and who’s idea of multitasking is being able to iron, fold clothes and give a blowjob all at the same time.  Fuck, she’ll even smile while she swallows and say “anything else darling?”  I might be going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing it’s hard to find such a girl in Munich, New York or London?  I recently had to go to Kao San Road for a session with a backpacker dude and I caught myself thinking like a guy as I walked down the street saying “who would fuck any of these foreign girls?”  I got my answer as we went dancing after the session and I had more than 10 guys trying to get me instead of Miss Brussels and it occured to me for the millionth time that I was born 3,000 miles away from where I needed to be born.

Herein lays my problem, I need to get to where you live, where all the red fish girls swim.  Cuz i fucking guarantee, you put me in an American University for 2 years, and I’ll have my pick of guys wanting to commit to me … I’d be a bad ass red shark over there, and all them fat red fish wouldn’t stand a chance.

But sadly I’m not ‘there’ , I’m ‘here’, which sucks more than your normal suck.

I … I get to swim with what is the equivalent of Dory from Finding Nemo, except there’s like a school of them that covers the ocean as far as the eye can see here.  How easy is it to fuck a pretty blue Thai fish?  On an online dating questionnaire after the question “Do you believe in sex before marriage” they have to add “Duh” as a clickable response.  When asked “After how many dates would you consider having sex with your significant other?” they had to add “1/10th of a date” as an answer.

I’m not really into your tradition of sitting on an old man’s lap and whispering my wishes into his ear just on account that I don’t feel like feeling Santa’s boner.  However if i did, I’d most definitely wish for not only a spectacular wedding dress but a reason to wear it.  If that was asking too much I’d settle for a one way ticket out of here.

Ah, there it is.  The first lighter shades of black repainting the pitch black sky, the sun approaches.  Time to disappear to my vampire coffin and sleep away this joyous of days.

Merry Christmas everybody, I guess.  Not accepting gifts, but if you wanna come over and kiss my ass you’re more than welcome to.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Weight Loss Domination | #4 Top Session in 2015

200 kilograms of volumous, disgusting life-destroying fat … think about it, that is the same weight of two large men.  For 5 men, I’ve been the inspiration in their lives to collectively shed 200 kg of mass that had prevented them from being the man they were meant to be.  Now not all of my sessions have been winners this year, there have been some stinkers for sure and even some sessions that I ended just as soon as they began, so they haven’t all been perfect.  But I’m thrilled that in every instance where the person seeing me has been obese I can say that without a doubt I’ve touched each of those guys lives in a way that has been life changing for them.

The strangeness of it all though, is that I’ve gone about doing that in radically different ways for each of them, so when I say that Weight Loss Domination is the 4th best session of the past year, I say that because it’s been a unique learning process for me, one that encompassed the whole year through five distinctively different series of sessions.  Yes series.  It’s never been a one-off type of thing with overweight submissive’s, there is an attraction that lasts for a very long time, one which intensifies as it lasts and yet branches off in its own particular path, one so exclusive that it’s allowed me to categorize each man by naming his path as the following :

• The Slave
• The Runner
• The Bag Man
• The Once Upon a Time Rugby Star
• The Guy I Touched too Much

Ya I know, it sounds like some prison guys I’ve recruited for my own version of The Longest Yard but trust me no, these guys are too fat for either American Football or Rugby and besides, with no black dudes on the team we’d get smoked.  I’m secretly waiting for the year that African nations and black athletes in general decide they want to take over the white man sport of Rugby.  At that moment 27 million combined Aussies and New Zealanders would collectively renounce the sport and say over that breakfast headline “Well Martha, there’s always hockey.”

The ordeal I went through with The Slave I’ve already written about it at great length, first here in the midst of his month long journey, and then again here at the conclusion of his month long stay as my willing prisoner so I won’t be going over it again.  Those two stories made a lot of people inquire as to not only why a man would subject himself to such an unending torture, but also to why he wouldn’t just walk out.  Simple answer : he didn’t read the contract.

The Runner.

How many times have you been out for a jog and your mind determines “your not feeling it today” or “you’ve done enough, call it a day” and 15 minutes later you’ve got your feet up in your lazy boy chair watching Hentai Porn with a donut in your hand.  If you didn’t already know, I’m a runner (when I can find the time) and though Hentai porn isn’t my thing I have had those lazy thoughts permeate through the outer defenses of my mind after only 2 laps of Lumpini Park here and I know it’s a problem.  When a Swedish man inquired about changing his life through long distance weight loss domination I knew laziness would be a huge obstacle.

The ‘work-around’ idea came to me from my foray into Financial Domination, in particular – on Twitter where I had seen some FinDom’s use TeamViewer as a way to hijack a slave’s computer and ruin or control their life from that perspective.  Not my cup of tea but it did get me thinking in what other ways could I invade somebody’s life being half a world away from them.  It was the next day actually that a guy tried to pick me up while I was on one of my runs and the topic of conversation was “dude, what’s up with the camera on your head” and “if you’re filming me I’m going to kick your balls so hard you’ll be filming your own vomit in HD”

I hadn’t moved into my condo just yet but I did have my computer set up at Mistress Wael’s condo and given that I was usually finishing up sessions over there at about 10pm it coincided perfectly with my slave’s late afternoon or early evening exercise time over in his Scandinavian homeland.  I instructed him to bring his phone with him every time he went out to exercise and to Skype call me every 20 minutes to report in to me.

Now ever since Mistress Wael found my weakness and bought a Moo-Ga-Ta bbq electric grill for her room, I stopped going home at 10pm and instead we’d sit, eat and talk until 1 or 2am.  Every time the phone would ring after midnight we’d giggle.

“Please Mistress, i’ve done 50 laps, I’ve been out here for 2 hours, may I please go home now?”

There’s something cathartic about seeing a guy soaked in sweat and tired beyond his comfort zone pleading with me to end his exercise regiment.

“If you go home now, you must call me and show me that you can drink your piss from a glass in one attempt without stopping.  Or continue to do laps for another hour.”

He never once took the piss drinking option, and those extra laps – done until he literally couldn’t walk home properly were the recipe behind his 40kg weight drop.  I’d make him do all sorts of things for me like pull ups from the monkey bars in the playground I saw behind him and I’d make him smile into the phone while he did 100 pushups for me – making him start all over again if for one moment he dropped his worshiping grin.

On days where I’d be busy or on holidays I’d send links to video demands I had recorded for him and he’d have to play it and follow along.  Those cracked me up.  Seriously, try talking to a person … in this case Mistress Wael … who is holding a camera and counting like I’m doing a show for Sesame Street.  I’d get to 3 or 4 and burst out laughing at myself and it’d take 20 attempts for me to get through the whole recording.  I should make a blooper outtake video for you guys, it was too silly.

Unfortunately the financial reward for such a time investment was too little and by the second month I was regretting the meaningless payoff that I had agreed to more than I was excited by his total body transformation.  Something that I probably went too far the other way with in dealing with The Bag Man to compensate for the time/money reward ratio.

The Bag Man

In a perfect world, 1+1 does in fact equal 2 and here in this case I had a fat guy who was also fascinated with not only seeing my pussy which I hadn’t yet allowed the privilege of seeing but I had made him into my SMS shit slave by sending him a photo every time I ended up taking a shit at home in my condo.  It started out with a casual tongue in cheek offer in this Line chat we were having and it evolved to this thought I had that maybe this guy would indeed come over to my condo and eat from a bag of my shit that I’d leave hanging on the door handle.  Well, truth be told, it wasn’t my condo we were talking about at the time, it was Mistress Wael’s condo where we did sessions up until September of this year and therefore I had nothing to lose.

Her condo has without exaggeration 100 video cameras which I thought might get her kicked out of the place if they could zoom in on what he was eating so I had to lay down the rules properly for him.

I told him that once a day at exactly 4pm (convenient as it’s 1 hour before my first session of the day) I would wrap one piece of my shit in a tortilla and subsequently wrap that in tin foil to be placed in a plastic Subway Sandwich bag that I would hang from my door handle.  He was to consume nothing else each day from the time he woke up until the time he would come to Wael’s condo at exactly 4pm, and if he was late by even 1 minute on one occasion I would cancel the whole exercise permanently.

He was to stand at my condo door and consume my special home made tortilla within 2 minutes and upon swallowing he was to knock twice.  Each and every time he did that, I promised him I would open the door wearing less and less each day and that I’d hand him a water bottle and tissue before sending him on his way.  Afterwards he could eat whatever he liked up until the time came for him to sleep and we’d repeat the process the next day … assuming I had a session which was about 90% of the time.

I told him that I may or may not be watching him through the peep hole of our condo door, and if he made any gestures that would look suspicious on the cameras that were watching him, he wouldn’t be allowed to come back.  Basically, I wanted him to eat my tortilla like it was a pure Mexican delight.

I also promised him that if he was able to follow such a diet for 30 straight days that sometime in the month that followed I’d summon him to eat directly from the source, and at that time he’d finally be allowed to see my magnificent pussy.  On the very last day of that second month I sent him an sms at 1:13 am and told him if he wanted to see my pussy he had to drop what he was doing and show up at my condo within thirty minutes.  Now, I had noticed a drop in weight over the month that we were doing this, but then after the 30th day of him eating his daily tortilla we went an entire month talking only by sms on Line.

I’d chastise him and humiliate him every day asking him why somebody so fat deserves to see the hottest ass and pussy in the city.  Then on just one occasion i mentioned half jokingly that the following month, if he hadn’t changed his appearance, he’d be eating Ass Burgers for the month of April.

When he showed up at Wael’s front door after one of our 2 hour BBQ fiestas I was ready to shit three days worth of food into his mouth and was squeezing my legs to keep it in.  Wael who was looking down from the balcony window to the parking lot below said he saw the guy sprinting from the motorcycle taxi that dropped him off to the lobby and that he looked somewhat different.  What an understatement, as the guy who knocked on the door a minute later stood before us sans beer belly , replaced by a normal sized tshirt which pronounced what could have been the onset of a 6 pack of abs.  Was his two month long ordeal worth it?  I dunno, ask him …
M S <m……nyc@live.com>
Mar 5

to me
I loved your pussy. It was intoxicating and sweet. I could lick you all day if you’d let me. Your ass hole was tasty too

The Once Upon a Time Rugby Star

My relationship with Craig has been more of an exercise in getting him to believe that I’m sincere than anything to do with weight loss.  If you have taken time to read over my website and the stories within, you know that I’m willing to give all my heart and effort to create for you a FemDom experience that involves the mind as much as it involves the body.  I do what I do best, I take your little plan of what it means to be Submissive, and I turn it on itself.

That might mean a sudden deep passionate kiss given to a guy who hasn’t been kissed like that in countless decades, and letting that seed grow in his mind as I send him away to dwell upon the meaning behind the 5 seconds of pleasure concealed behind 1 hour and 59 minutes of anguish.  But just as much as it can be a physical act, I find that most men are simply trapped in patterns that degrade their life and nobody has had the fortitude to step up to their face and tell them like it is.  Two things motivate people to change, desperation and inspiration, and I’m simply the motivator of inspiration …
jaa4u.com | Goddess <mistress…….@gmail.com>
Sep 16

to Craig
Email Opens: 14 Clicks: 0 Last Read: Thursday, Nov 19th 2015, 1:36:55 AM

So I know you well enough to say this without you getting too offended.

Grow a dick. Then once it’s grown, grow a pair of balls to go along with it.

Which means, stop apologizing for every fucking thing you do, it makes you look weak, and you come across as an idiot rather than a man who is confidant in himself and I know you can be that.

Yes lose some weight, take control of your life and don’t just hope it stays off, make sure you do whatever it takes to keep it off. Because you know, if you want to be around celebrating your 90th birthday like Jimmy Carter did or if you want to be fertilizer in 6 months is completely up to you.

Take control of who you are and who you want to be and more importantly, how you want to represent yourself.

I’m hot, I’m out of your league, yet I still talk to you , deal with it. Stop fucking blurting shit out and then apologizing for it 10 seconds after. It’s a pathetic trait you have and it needs to stop. Why? Because without it you’re a really cool guy. I wouldn’t keep talking to you otherwise.

Whatever you lost, double it. Don’t make it a target, fucking accomplish it. Do it. Get it done.

Be who you were gonna be when you were 20 playing rugby still.

Cancer, Diabetes, Asthma, whatever the fuck is out there is mostly brought on by a chosen lifestyle. I’m sure your problems are brought on by yours and if you are doing things right now to correct that forever then fuck , about time.
Craig …………..@gmail.com>
Sep 16

to me
Fuck you! And thanks, you are 100% right, this is exactly what I needed to hear.

Thanks

If you notice, I sent that to him in September and he has been re-reading it as lately as November 19th a full two months afterwards, perhaps even three if he’s read it again this month.  Hey, you want to change your life?  Do this.

You know the feeling you get inside of you when you’re going to ask a girl out, and you present the best possible version of yourself that exists within?  Be that guy every day.  Be the author of your own success story, be the guy a son would proudly tell everyone “THAT’S my dad.”  We’re here on this planet for a very short time and sadly for a great majority of the guys I met this past year, they all died at age 25, yet they wont realize that until they’re 55.  I had an interesting discussion with a man from Quebec, Canada last week who told me that we walk through our lives with our eyes closed and when the time comes to die, a lot of us die with our eyes open like this hockey player’s wife did, not wanting to give in to death when it comes too early.

The Guy I Touched Too Much

Admit it, this world is full of bullshit.  It permeates every corner of our lives and we’re so used to it that we’re desensitized by it.  So when we witness a truly pure action of love or kindness it’s fine … if the recipient of that action is anyone else but ourselves.  That’s why it’s such a popular thing to do to share ‘feel good’ videos on Facebook and we all watch them don’t we?  But what happens when a sudden act of kindness is directed at us?  Especially if that person is an overweight person who has long since forgotten what it feels like to be touched in such a way that awakens the senses?

I’ll tell you what happens, the guy goes bat shit bananas like a man in an insane asylum.  Oh sure, at first it’s a magical like thing to experience one of my sessions …

At the moment I feel like a puppet and you are the master of the strings…
I cannot explain how hard you touched my soul, my brain, my feeling.

No – I don’t fell in ” love”
I now that I am an old man – and you are one of the nicest girls … But I like the idea that you can control me.
Crazy?

Maybe…. No …for sure crazy… I know I am an old idiot at the moment …but it feels so good to be an stupid idiot.

and maybe perhaps the feeling of my session persists, but with a hint of self-doubt of why the session was so powerful, a hint which is easily dismissed in it’s early stages …

Sorry mistress for all my emails,

I hope you don’t blog me … but I think day and night and every free second about the last session and you….

No idea what you did with my brain – it is gone …. No more brain…

I had no drink in your room – so no drugs … It is a little bit like hypnosis.

You did not hurt me …you did not hit me … You just gave me your smile…
I think it is dangerous to play with you … In my emails with mistress jaa, I don’t like to meet you … I was just addicted to see mistress jaa

And now?

I am on holiday – I should relax – I should sleep with my beautiful girlfriend – I should have an easy time …

But the reality is different

I don’t sleep with her, because I worship you … I cannot relax …. You are always here ….I miss your smile, your skin, your weight on my body, your weight on my face, your soft hand, your skin, your lovely boobies, your beautiful ass, your eyes, your smell – YOU

For sure … I send you to much emails – and maybe you blog me …
But I have to tell you that I miss your laugh and your smile….

You definitely need a photo on your website with your eyes and your natural smile…

I wish you a perfect day !!!

Ah but the feeling of being touched so deeply festers like a Menthos inside a Diet Coke …

Maybe not … I don’t know … My “plan” was not to write so much emails to you … You will get boring from me… Too much stupid things…
Too much from my little live … Too much from my feelings …

I booked jaa into the session for my safety.
Last time was harder than I expect …

The mental whip was deep under my skin … Around my heart … Opened memorys …
I dont want it again…

It was lovely and sweet but deep

So I booked her for MY safety …
I told her that you wear an uniform –
In her blog you wear a school uniform

I am not horny for kids or school kids – I think it is just to forget what you can do …
To see another person in the session – mistress to be mean to me not nice to me
Mean and bad to me – different

Not nice…

So he books Jaa and me together and surprisingly to me he shows up smaller, thinner, more handsome than before.  Then the session that I hinted at before goes down and he finds his “protection” in the form of Jaa (original one, not me) is a girl about to perform her last ever bdsm session and decides to put on a 2 hour demonstration of how to clean the condo from ceiling to floor.  Well if he wanted dissociation from me and his feelings he certainly got it in that debacle of a session.  That awful session didn’t dissuade him however, and his road to being a better version of himself continued …

I come for sure in February back to Bangkok and back to my mistress
It is not necessary to write emails….

Yes, it is true … I like the contact … I like the mails .. I like xxxxx
But you don’t have to do it ….

Ups… I write to much again…
Please don’t tell “your other personality” about the emails ….
Thanks mistress for your time …. I will try yoga at home in Germany … Maybe I will do a course … Maybe not …

For sure I will start to “run” again …. to loose weight again … to be a little bit more fit
Have a nice sunny day

I should just leave it there, up until that point I inspired the guy.  Then one mistake, in an attempt to show him that I’m different than other girls … which would prove why my sessions with him were genuine, I asked him what my favorite gem stone is.  Diamonds aren’t necessarily ugly, but if you put the most beautiful diamond beside the most beautiful Opal, it’s quite clear which is the more beautiful of the two, yet, diamonds are pushed onto us as the more beautiful and then the supply is rationed so as to create a fake inflated price for the piece of shit.  Ah, remember what I said earlier about this world being painted with bullshit.

So he painted me as a bullshit artist after posing that question to him and it went downhill rapidly from there.  I don’t hold it against him, I understand that he and half of you haven’t bought into the “land of smiles” bullshit and some of you actually see just how many snakes in the grass there are here.  But I do hold it against him that he didn’t see I’m not one of them.  I’m more of a bdsm femdom therapist.  No, not The Rapist … therapist.

… though I have been known to rape a few asses this year , but that’s #2 in the year’s top sessions and a story for another day.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Pissing TKO | #3 Top Session in 2015

So how can drinking piss knock someone out cold, unconscious, stiffer than Jimmy Hoffa?  The story behind that session is my personal favorite from this year but I’m going to rank it third so you guys get to read the two most sexy ones as numbers one and two.  This one was wasn’t sexy at all, but it could have made a good Three Stooges episode.

What’s the recipe for such a disaster?  Well you need a hesitant guy first of all, one who pathologically insists that he just wants a little taste of pee, to the tune of 10 times per email …

Hi, Supreme Goddess! I would have sent you a reply earlier but I was worried what to say to you.
For my session i want to make it clear just a little bit of piss please.  Not a lot of piss.  I just can drink one drop maybe.
Supreme Goddess, please no poo.  I cannot handle poo.  I can try pee but only a little bit.  Just a tiny drop i want to try.
Supreme Goddess, i can make session with you next week if you are ok and can promise only the little drop.  Say where.
I look forward to meeting you and excite to see you Supreme Goddess.   Andrea

Now I wrote before that in one of my earlier toilet training sessions I had thought it to be extremely important to hold back the pee when delivering the Dairy Queen chocolate Sundae, and I mentioned in a follow up story that I had to be hospitalized for doing so as my kidney got mildly infected from back sucking my pee up while carefully timing the other flow.  Now, this session was what I considered to be dangerously close to the day my doctor gave me the all clear and nothing wrong with my kidney any longer, so I was hesitant to do it for him as I pee like a racehorse.

What I needed was somebody with a tiny bladder who drips pee out like saline out of a syringe, one drop at a time.  You know who fits that description exactly?  Mistress Wael, who has probably the world’s tiniest bladder, so much so that she pees ten to twelve times a night.  I slept over one time at her condo and it was enough to drive me crazy with her constant runs to the washroom only to dribble a maximum of five seconds of urine in to the toilet and flush.

The plan was to have me supervise the session and introduce Mistress Wael who was just beginning training under me at the time to her first watersport session.  The hell started in trying to get her to pronounce the letter S when I was teaching her a few lines to master like:  “I want you to drink my piss” ,  “Drink my piss now slave” , “I’m going to piss in your mouth, open up”.  If you know my language you know we throw out the letter S and replace it with the letter TD mish-mashed together , it’s a grammar thing and like nipple rings on a grandmother, it’s a hard thing to explain.  Just understand that Lotus becomes Lotutd.  Therefore, piss becomes … pitd.  We also can’t pronounce R very well so “I want you to drink my piss” becomes bastardized down to “I want you to ding my pitd”.

So I simplified it down to “Drink my pee” , “I have to pee, open your mouth” , and with a few rehearsals I got her to somewhat sound like a mistress … if they made a Terminator Mistress , she’d qualify for the role let’s put it that way.

Except for some reason when she gets excited, for no apparent reason she can pronounce the S sound like she’s an Accapala singer auditioning for Step Up Part 10 or whatever that franchise is up to now.

While Mr. One Drop was on his way she would bark out “Open Your Mouse, I have to piss.” repeatedly and got herself so worked up she peed about once a minute until he arrived.  By the time the dude arrived, chick was out of gas, empty canteen, a dried up river bed, no pee to serve, bar closed.  I hadn’t been drinking and the session as I recall was at about 5pm which as you know is an hour or two after I wake up and my after sleep piss deposit had been made.  I was as dry as a guy with his dick stuck in a cow milker.

To pass the time we decided to make a video to help her get comfortable with the confidence I needed her to project herself with so I drew up a simple script in my mind and we tried to film it.  But all the while the guy, Andrea, kept reminding us that when the time came he would only dare to sample but a single drop or two of her lemon sauce.  It was driving us nuts, to the point where we began talking in Thai to one another – jokingly – how we should just break open the damn when the time comes and see his reaction.

Ah, never tempt fate.

For once the video was done we went to the bathroom as Wael announced she had the urge to pee.  Now normally I lay the guy down in the shower part of the bathroom, a feat much easier to do in my condo’s bathroom as my master bathroom is much bigger than the single bathroom at Wael’s condo.  But since her bathroom is tiny in comparison, and buoyed by the fact the dude wanted but a single drop , I suggested he lay down anywhere on the bathroom floor and we’d tease him for a good long time with Wael perched on his mouth waiting endlessly for the first drop of pee.

Thing is, half an hour later, she hadn’t squeezed out a single drop.  The guy was hard as a rock with me playing lightly with his cock, just enough edging to make his cock head pulse by itself but not enough pressure to let him explode.  I kept looking and nodding at Wael like “now would be a good time” and she’d shake her head back with her hands on the back of her head all boss like Chewbacca as if to say “it’s gonna take time, a lot of time still.”  Flash forward another 10 minutes and we’re close to the end of the allotted session time so this time I make a wristwatch gesture to my arm and told her in Thai to squeeze out on drop and be done with it.

“Cannot” she replied.

So at this point I tell her to take over the edging of his dick while I squat over him and sure enough I can’t squeeze out a single drop either.  “I got nothing” I said out loud, and sensing the frustration and near anger in my voice she motions to me to switch back and in her eyes I can see there’s a possibility she might have something in the tank finally.

She mounts him, rocks forward a time or two, and with her hands placed on her thighs for support she winces and finally the floodgates open.  Except, it’s the wrong floodgates.  She squeezed so hard she blew out the back door of the saloon and with the loudest “pttttffffffff” sound you can envision she let let loose with debris and fart that blew his balls ten feet apart.  Instantly, like almost in slow motion as she opened up the brown bomb doors on the guy she realized what she was doing and dove off to the right and screamed “Sorry” as she did.

I must of, at the same time, squeezed his cock out of shock and he ejaculates into the air at the same time he does a rapid sit up.  The toilet bowl which extends further over his face and which Wael had been using for balance support intercepts his attempt to get up and with a “thonnnnggg” noise he completely knocks himself out cold smacking his head on the bathroom floor violently.

So violently in fact that we’re both terrified the boy killed himself with liquid poo all over his face.  My immediate thoughts are “stage the crime scene, stage the crime scene” as he’s totally not moving and neither she nor I are willing to get close enough to ground zero to check if he’s alive or not.  But then I think, “fuck” , in the video camera we have endless footage of Wael saying “open your mouse” shooting the mini movie that the circumstantial evidence will be enough to throw us both in the loony bin for a century or two.

Suddenly he comes to, and jiggles his hands and toes like he’s been cocooned in spider web, his eyes are bug eyed, like I”m talking wide wide open and after a moment or two that felt like eternity he yells … no, check that, he shrieks at the top of his lungs so that I’m sure everybody on the entire floor could hear …

“one drop, i said one drop.”

Jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Butt Plug Super Hero | #2 Top Session in 2015

Everybody’s talking about my Butt Plug

I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

Everybody’s looking at my butt plug.  I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

I’m the only one in town with a butt plug.  I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

No one else around is wearing a butt plug.  I got my butt plug.  I got my butt plug on.

I can swing my arms.  I can say I’m brave.

I can dance down the street knowing I’m the only slave that’s wearing a butt plug.

And I’m the only one.

That song sums up the perspective of all you guys who feel you’re something special walking around with a butt plug in your ass 24 hours a day.  I think it makes you feel like you’re emitting some sort of Super Hero vibe that let’s everybody know you have the power of the plug in your ass.  Well I got news for you, I’m Lex Luthor’s daughter Lexa Luthor and I’ve got the Kryptonite that dis-spells your ass power.

Being a Super Hero who chose to wear a butt plug 24 hours a day as their chosen super power is kind of like being a Super Hero with a major flaw in his abilities.  Like, if you had the ability to run incredibly fast without the ability to stop.  Or if you had the ability to fly but could do so only 1 inch off the ground.

That’s because in the Submissive’s Guide to the Galaxy , first edition, page 494, paragraph 2, sub section one it clearly states :

“The Super Hero Submissive may wear a butt plug for his super hero power if he so chooses, with the caveat that if it comes out of the ass dirty, he’s eating it, period.”

I have no regard for your incredulous mannerisms like the red teary eyed puppy face look, and I certainly don’t pay attention to the word ‘inconceivable’ no matter how many times it flies out of your mouth.  The fact of the matter is if the butt plug goes in black and comes out brown … unless it has a Mexican passport upon removal… it’s being sucked clean.  The effect on the submissive’s super power is then catastrophic.  It’s akin to removing Green Lantern’s ring and shoving it up his ass.  Ya, “aim now bitch”.

Hey let’s stop for a second.  Seen the new Star Wars movie yet?  Mini spoiler here, but in the flick the bad guys have a world destroying ray gun that gets it’s power from sucking the energy from the sun.

Wow, Superman Prime’s gonna be pissed.

Superman Prime lives in the sun and Kylo kind of opened a whole new level of whoop-ass by doing that.  (I take no credit for knowing this, I got it from Jaa’s son who is an encyclopedia of Super Hero knowledge.)

Ah, but I digress.

The guy coming for the session with me had referred to his butt plug so many times in our email thread that when the day of the session arrived and I checked my calendar to see my notes on him, it simply read “butt plug guy” and I knew immediately who I was dealing with and what to expect.  My expectations of him were confirmed right away as he stood up in the lobby when I came down to greet him and he rose to approach me walking rather gingerly on the right side of the couch.  He tiptoed lightly to the elevator walking like a China man with no dick to weigh him down.  He even had that Jimmy Fallon ‘tight pants’ grin on his face like he was the proudest man in the land for wearing his butt plug.

Newton’s fourth and lesser known law of physics is ‘what goes in must come out’ (unless you’re Paris Hilton, I’m quite sure she’s a permanent ass trophy inside Mr. Slave’s ass)

After all, the guy wanted to try strap-on sex and I told him that unless he wants to be the future subject of the world’s most interesting colonoscopy procedure it’d be best to remove his super power device from his ass.  He bent over and as soon as I saw the density of the hair on his ass I knew NASA would have an easier time recovering Matt Damon than they’d have of recovering this lunar probe.   I put on my hazard suit, turned to my NASA special forces team and told them straight up “men, it’s dark and hairy down there, we might not all be coming back alive.”

Put your finger inside your cheek and scrape it until it pops out from your lips.  That “plop” sound you just made is the exact same sound his butt plug made as I fully extracted it.  His ass looked like a hatched pod from Alien but instead of a face hugger this Zucchini like thing was hugging something else, like Skippy Chunky Peanut Butter only … worse tasting.

“You.  Come here.”

He knew it, just like a puppy that has made a mess on the kitchen floor, his reddening eyes showed that he knew my rules.  I only have three rules so they’re quite easy to remember.

• If it comes out dirty, you’re eating it.
• If you cum before I say, I’m rubbing the head of your cock until you scream or pass out.
• Respect Broccoli

Well, he hadn’t cum yet and there was no broccoli in the fridge so that left one rule to be administered.  I held it before his mouth and harshly barked out “clean it, now.”  His face looked like he’d rather inhale skunk farts than munch on his butt plug chocolate bar but after I grabbed him by the back of his hair and impaled his throat on it he traded his dejected look for wretching noises as his stomach did it’s best Gandolf “you shall not pass” imitation.

“You throw up you’re eating that too” I told him quite frankly.

Now it took slightly longer than it takes a kid to down brussels sprout (i’ve only heard, never tried, but willing to) but in the end he got it down.  I didn’t allow him to drink, gargle or brush, instead I continued on with his ass adventure as I suited up in my strap on harness.  His nightmare of a session was about to get worse for obviously right after the first full insertion my black dildo had also gone full Mexican on me.

“Come.  Clean it.  Dirty Ass to Mouth time bitch.”

“No please no, anything else, I can’t” and he began to cry.

“What?  You can’t or you won’t?  In both cases you have to accept the alternative , 40 lashes.”

The deadly serious tone in my voice I think made it quite clear to him that there was only one other option at that moment, and that meant taking the walk of shame out my condo door and being blocked from all future contact.  To you, if you haven’t met me yet, that seems like quite a viable option.  To anyone who knows me though, they know that I wear an XS sized dress and all other Mistress options in this country come in size L which means he wasn’t going anywhere.

He chose to wear a butt plug in his ass like he’s wearing Iron Man’s chest battery, I didn’t force him to wear that so he’s gotta face the consequences.  It’s like if you go out looking for Bigfoot in the forest in the middle of nowhere dressed up in a female Bigfoot costume to lure him out :  and you hear a sudden loud grunt behind you.  When you whip your head around you see him … a 12 foot horny creature furiously pumping his two foot hairy dick in his hand making a “GWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR” noise …. well at that point you have to accept that you’re going to face the consequences whether you like it or not.

“Lashes.  I’ll take the lashes.”

“And you’ll count every one out loud?”

“Yes goddess.  Yes.”

“Good, then let’s begin ….”

You can ask me for the full video link , if I know you I’ll send it to you.

You’ll agree though, he should have chosen a second licking.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Shittiest Story Ever Told | #1 Session in 2015

I’m kind of torn whether I should respect the truly horrible things that happened to this guy and keep what happened between me and him or write the story for the simple fact that the events that transpired were truly unbelievable and a story like that has to be told.

I was at The Comedy Club a couple of nights ago, having been invited by a Japanese friend that I went to school with oversees a long while ago, and though that venue wouldn’t have been my first choice to go to (or my 100th for that matter) it was really nice to go out with one of the last guys I can remember who was truly my friend and would never ask me out for the end game purpose of banging me back at his condo at 3am.  In fact as I sit here now less than 12 hours away from New Years eve I’ve just turned down my fourth separate invite to go party by the same four guys who have been trying to get into my pants since last New Years Eve.  Instead I’ll stay here at Wael’s condo and type this for you while she goes to Lotus to buy meats for our bbq later on tonight.

It was an open mic night and I’ll tell ya my command of the English language must still be at an infant level because when a drunk Scottish guy got up to the mic and started telling jokes I couldn’t understand a frigging word he said.  In fact I found nothing that anybody tried to say to be even close to being funny but my Japanese friend was loving it so we stayed.  I get the feeling that Japanese guys, after having a few drinks in them, will laugh at pretty much anything and that there is absolutely nothing that could be considered taboo enough to spoil the fun.  So I was temporarily shocked when he reached out to grab my wrist and shout out a serious “Nooooo” when I stood up and shouted out “I can, easily” – responding the the MC on the stage who had just uttered the line “wow, I doubt anybody can beat that story.”

The story he was referring to was of a Canadian guy who recounted a first date with a girl in Toronto whom he had taken for a walk in the park and somewhere upon their trot back to her place he had to endure the three levels of having to take a crap.  The initial warning level as he called it, then the ‘red alert’ level two if I remember correctly and finally the “Cuttlefish” level – the level where it’s coming out no matter where the location or circumstances.  I was the only one to laugh out loud at the Cuttlefish reference, hell I had just put a reference to that South Park episode a few stories ago.  His monologue was lame if not humorous, but the line that caught my attention was when he said “the need to crap is inversely proportional to the distance when approaching the nearest toilet in time of desperation.”  Or in other words, the closer to the toilet, the more determined the poo is of coming out the back door.

I was holding on to that sentence in my mind, recounting the unfortunate events that had happened almost a whole year earlier which truly validated his statement, and that’s why I responded out loud to the challenge that a greater story didn’t exist.  It did, it was floating in my mind and I think I blurted out what I said not because I wanted to experience stand up comedy, but because of the validity of the statement.

“Would you like to come up and share it with us miss?” the broad shouldered lanky MC said as he gestured towards me to come up to the stage.  Again, I strode up to the stage without hesitation, stopped only briefly by my friend clutching at my wrist to stop me, not because of bravery or insanity, but because it’s been bottled up inside me for an entire year that my client that night has forbidden me to talk about what happened and I needed to exercise my right to free speech.

I ignored the whistles and cat calls as I hopped up onto the stage and felt proud when he announced that I was the first ever Thai lady to attempt stand up at his club.  But this was no stand up routine, nothing had been written or scripted, I was just going to accurately recount the events, starting with my description of the oddest guy I’ve ever met for one of my sessions.

Andy (fuck it, I’m going to use his real name, there’s what, like 10 million Andy’s in the world right?) is the kind of guy who’s nice enough to go to dinner with but one who soon thereafter makes you want to stab him in his eyeball with a fork.  True enough I found myself curling my fingers around the dinner fork with my right hand that evening long ago remembering one of Jaa’s rules that she swore by: “never accept a 24 hour session with a guy unless you really like him.”

Yet there I was in a shitty Thai food restaurant in Krabi listening to him try to order off the menu asking for organic mushrooms and to have the sauce cooked with artificial sugar and absolutely no m.s.g added.  My grip on the fork tightened.

I wanted to stab Jaa first I decided, for she had tricked me into coming here with this guy.  She knows, she absolutely knows what buttons to push inside me to get a reaction, and she knew when she said that this guy is a 50 year old playboy who is so irresistible somehow that he sleeps with every girl he goes out with, that I’d want to prove I’d be the one girl who’d shoot him down.  Saying this guy was irresistible is like saying live maggots are appealing as an appetizer though.

The premise of the trip was a three day submissive relationship with me as his Mistress 24/7 which wasn’t enough to get me to go really, not until he threw in a scuba diving certification course as a sweetener to the pot did I actually consider going and even then I had my reservations as I never found his emails particularly inspiring.  It was the challenge of being a three day mistress that enticed me to go and any long time reader of my blog would know that of me, that I’m looking for real experiences that allow me to grow my dominant personality.

When he took out of his backpack his own jar of wheat grass and asked the waiter to have it blended with special oxygenated water I quite literally had enough.  Even the waiter at this point was looking at me with desperate eyes that begged for me to throw him a lifeline anytime soon.  My foot found his balls under the table rather quickly and I jabbed him mid sentence interrupting his explanation to the waiter of what oxygenated water is and why it is more beneficial to drink.  Andy looked at me both startled and rudely as he clutched his balls below the table cloth and fought away my foot only to have me kick his fingers instead.

“Tap water will be fine” I said, dismissing the waiter from any further headache of having to listen to Andy’s English accent, one that was already gnawing into the cranium of my skull.

The absence of frivolity in my voice along with my shoe in his hand poking at his fingers and the glare in his eyes determined the course of the next two days.  I hadn’t been set up with a submissive at all, nor was this guy an alpha-male, he was simply a well to do British guy that had patterned his lifestyle after every health fad in the past 20 years, enough so that his habits protected him from the plain as day fact that it was a miracle this guy was still alive at 50 years old.  I’ve never met someone so berift of how normal people function in day-t0-day activities, this guy was an island among islands, as clueless as he was stupid, and he was my “date” for the next 48 hours.  Fuck you Jaa.

While he was doing the math of the bill in his head, determining to the very last Baht how much of the bill was his responsibility I got up and walked out of the restaurant to saunter slowly down the street by myself allowing him time to anti up for the entire bill of 368 baht (how obscure is it that I remember the exact total a year hence?) and chase after me.  But as he did so I grabbed a passing motorcycle taxi and dangled the room keys at him behind me as we drove off and I found myself wishing that every telephone pole we passed was a kilometer instead.

I abhor lynch mobs and any such violence that accompanies it.  I’ve told you before that I’ve long since stopped watching television, or reading any news that social media deems fit for us to consume, I find that my happiness is better reflected when focusing on things that interest me which improve who I am like the Muay Thai lessons I’m currently taking.  Well, supposed to be taking, my trainer has disappeared to Vietnam for the past two weeks.  It’s important to me that I convey to you just how annoying not only this session was to me but this man as a whole, because I think I seek justification for the delight I took from seeing this guy choosing to drown over being torn apart by an entire boat load of passengers and crew.

I caught a chill that night – ironically from being too hot as he refused to turn on the air in the room.  something about mold in the old units that circulate air-borne diseases such as Legionnaire’s Disease.  I felt rough enough at breakfast to decide to opt out of jumping in the swimming pool for the first day of the scuba certification program he was there to participate in.  I’ve always wanted to scuba dive and it seems that every time I get a chance to take the course that allows me to do so something comes up to stop me.

Rather than sit in the room all day I accompanied him to the scuba club and to their swimming pool adjacent to their office.  Now I’ve never taken the course but it seems easy.  I got the “i’m ok” and “I need to surface” hand signals the teacher was explaining to the class of 8 Europeans and 2 Americans … and this fish out of water British dude.  Seemed simple enough.  The instructor, a “tourist adjusted” Thai guy who had about as much sincerity as I have cleavage had everybody down in the deep end of the pool within minutes but had to keep surfacing as Andy would swim up to the surface gasping for air every other minute.

“THIS means ok and THIS means go up, not the other way” the instructor repeated.  I shook my head and went back to soaking in the sun knowing that while the deck seemed peaceful, 8 feet below the water an explosion of rage was beginning to swell in the instructors temperament.

I had drifted off to sleep when a splash with the same resonance of that of a whale breaching the surface of the ocean awoke me.  Andy was flailing, more dramatically this time with his snorkel mask dangling upside down and in a 45 degree angle across his face as he coughed and splattered water across the instructors face as he towed Andy to shore.

As Andy sat there at the side of the water wondering how his wheat grass and oxidized water was failing him in his ability to acquire the necessary skills to scuba dive in a baby pool, the instructor came over and kneeled down beside my white plastic deck chair.

In Thai he confirmed first that I was indeed a Thai girl and when I responded in our shared language he rested his hand on my arm and told me that while he is instructed by the owner to basically pass everybody who pays money for the course, he thought it would be better if Andy went along on the ocean part of the trip the next day as a snorkeling journey rather than as a scuba dive.

He was trying to be as cordial as his job allowed him to be but his inner rage was still peaking through in the quivering of his voice.  In just 30 minutes Andy had brought this guy to the fork stabbing state of consciousness that he had brought me to the evening prior.

It irked me that the instructor thought Andy was my boyfriend, as I was thus guilty by association of being a retard girl.  So I stood up briskly, strode over to the side of the pool where Andy was simulating the action of removing and reapplying his mask.  I snatched the mask from his hand and slapped him twice – hard, on each side of his cheek.

Pointing to the instructor I said “He’s asked me if it’s ok to fail you.  Are you going to let that happen?  Are you going to embarrass me like this? ” slapping him to encourage the proper response.

I then stuck my two fingers into his nose and pulled him to his feet but he viciously slapped my hand away from his nose and turned to walk away from me.  Except, his flippers bent into the concrete as he took his first step and he fell face first onto the side of the pool and then flopped over like a dead fish sinking head first into the water.

We, the instructor and me looked at each other as if to say “did that just happen?”

Hours later, Andy sat at dinner with two squares of facial tissue stuffed into each nostril, hanging out like a Walrus’s tusks and he sipped on his Noni juice , another item he carried in his backpack of healthy survival gear.

“Ya I think snorkeling is better” he said dejectedly, “i just don’t have a grip on the tank thingy, I tend to panic.”

“It’s ok, I”m sure you’ll find a way to fuck up snorkeling too” I reassured him as I ripped off a piece of my Italian bread and dipped it in my Carbonara sauce, wishing for tomorrow to be over with as soon as possible.  No amount of money was worth the torture of being in this guys company.  I looked up at him as I chewed on my bread and suddenly burst out laughing.  I was overcome with the thought that every single girl he’s sat at dinner with, no mater how much she has hated his company, have all let this guy be balls deep inside them a few short hours later.

The thought of the song “she works hard for the money” came to my mind and the world seemed at that moment to be intensely funny and justified.  Why was I even there and furthermore, why was he paying me two thousand British pounds for 2 1/2 days when he wasn’t nearly as submissive as he said he was in his email.  I took the session because he was a guy who the original Jaa had seen on more than one occasion and she had referred her guy on to me the way one might redirect a cancerous virus onto an unsuspecting victim.  At this point he was thoroughly frustrated with my frankness as I was with his inability to cope with life.  At least the next morning would be the beginning of the final day and I’d be done with it.

The thunder clouds which awoke me the next morning were ominous, and in retrospect they offered a hint of the tumultuous day that lay ahead.  I opened up the drapes to my hotel bedroom to be greeted by a skyline as dark as soot and the miserable looking drizzle, the kind that hangs from your eyelids as you walk, was trumped by the ‘rat-a-tat-tat’ of the wind which played the flimsy hotel window like an unworldly musical instrument.

By 8am we were at the pier and being a Thai company I fully expected us to be whisked out to sea in a long-tail boat.  But the owner of the scuba place was Danish and he had gone out of his way to dig deep into his pockets and buy an almost exact replica of Quint’s sunken Orca boat from the movie Jaws.  Exact as in the stern of the boat which had the same spacial area where the passengers lay on the deck beside strapped in scuba tanks, but not so exact thereafter.  This hunk of junk was the Millennium Falcon of the ocean, a two story vessel with the captains roofed steering room a climb up the ladder above and a bottom deck that had both the posterior open air section I’ve mentioned along with an indoor section accessed by two unbearably narrow hallways one on the port side and one on the starboard side of the boat.  The starboard door was clearly marked “Crew Only” and probably led to the engine room and most likely the odds and ends the crew had to drag along on each scuba trip.  While the left port side hallway led only to the washroom near the bow of the ship.  There were no laser cannons as I could see.

A curious design of that hallway I noticed early on was that it was adorned with windows that one was able to open from the topside out.  Meaning that the window, though it had an upper and a bottom component to it, could only be opened from the top half and when done so, the very top of the window would open up to let the sea air in.  I suppose the close proximity of the window to the level of the ocean water just where ones legs would be standing was the reason to make the windows open in such a way, it would prevent water from seeping in too easily while riding through choppy waters.

As the passengers, myself included, were ushered onto the boat like cattle, the crew was carrying cooler after cooler of picnic supplies and hoisting them up the ladder where a crew mate was strapping them to the rails above where the captain would be steering the ship.  Once we were all aboard there was barely enough room to move aft of the boat where we were all congregated.  Some of the European girls had already marked out their deck territory with a towel, headphones and suntanning oil while others stood clutching their morning coffee’s like it was the last worldly possession they owned.

Andy on the other hand was busy mixing his plastic bottle of Hemp protein powder into his imported oxygenated bottle of H2O and making sure to swish it around in his mouth before swallowing each and every gulp.  It was then that the Danish guy in charge of our excursion came around offering everybody a tiny white pill which he had piled in his hand like roadrunner birdseed.

“For the stomach” he said to each and every one of us as he passed by.  For the most part, everybody took the pill in good faith and gulped it down immediately, all but Andy who I assumed had his own organic version of said pill but I didn’t see him take anything otherwise.  I was handed my snorkel set and spent the beginning part of our push out to sea adjusting the strap and getting the mask to fit my smallish face so that no water would seep through.  It’s been a problem in the past and I had the time to work on it as it would be an hour’s jaunt out to our special diving area everyone was told.

Meandering slowly through the pretty rock formations that surrounded Krabi was easy and gentle enough, and I thought again how nice it would be to visit Halong Bay in Vietnam to compare the beauty.  However a few moments later we were clear those limestone rocks and hit the open sea where as I told you the winds had her unsettled, something which was immediately noticeable when the first wave splashed against the port side heaving our ship clumsily to the starboard side.  The ship quickly rocked itself back to a even keel position just as the second wave hit spraying the barbie doll girls and causing them to scramble to avoid being soaked by the water that was quickly gathering on the deck.  Good for them, there was no sun to be seen anyways, just these foreboding dark clouds that seemed to surround our vessel like two cupped hands from the sky.

Thirty minutes into our ride parallel to the shore but far enough out that the ferociousness of the water made us feel like we were on a cross ocean trek, Andy’s protein jar was nowhere to be seen.  Instead there he sat crouched like hovering over one of our Thai toilets and nestled in between two scuba tanks holding onto his trusty backpack between his arms like it was keeping him alive.  His face had turned a pale white, almost greenish even, and while I was moderately nauseous my discomfort was nothing compared to what he was feeling.  I had taken the little white pill which he had rejected in favor of his oxygenated hemp protein water … a concoction which moments later came heaving back up out of his stomach as he clutched onto the tanks and heaved his breakfast up into the ocean.

I just held onto my two tanks and rode along swaying constantly from side to side as the boat pitched forty five degrees to the right and then subsequently back a symmetrical ninety degrees to the left.  Each time it did so it would be accompanied by the sound of Andy wretching his guts over the port rail “wratwratwratwrat” a sound as foreign to my ears as German.

One by one the twelve of us in the back of the boat thinned out, disappearing into the port side hallway of the boat.  It wasn’t forty minutes into the trip that with the exception of the older American couple and one of the deck hands, we were the only five people left riding out the trip at the back of the boat.  The rest had disappeared completely.

There was no heavy rain to speak of, just the annoying never ending vertical drizzle that was accompanied by the horizontal splashes of the waves across the boat’s stern.  One of the brown suntanning towels long since abandoned by the barbie dolls swished to and from along the deck like it was some sort of robotized mop.

“wrat wrat wrat wrat wrat” , Andy was at it again but finding that since he had successfully tossed up his protein juice there was nothing else in his stomach that he could vacate in order to bring him the relief he so desperately sought.

“I have to go to the loo” he eeked out.

I pointed with my hand to the door leading to the left side hallway.  He took a few steps to the door but the swaying of the ship knocked him right back into the tanks he had been clutching to.  A wave slapped him in has face harder than I’ve ever slapped a slave just then and his eyes glazed over with the same panic I had seen in the swimming pool but a day earlier.  With one hand holding each adjacent tank and the other hand pushing against his anus he made his way one side step at a time towards the port side door.

Upon reaching the door and swinging it open violently he was met immediately by a line up of equally discombobulated passengers with queasy stomachs all lined up to use the single solitary bathroom at the end of the hall.

“Move” he cried out as he made his way down the narrow hallway on the right side of it trying to squeeze by the folks who were clutching to the left side of the hallway standing on their tiptoes trying to get a whiff of fresh air from the tops of the propped open windows.  The smell coming from within was horrible, rancid and putrid all at the same time.  A good half hours worth of vomit and shit smell leaked out from the sealed hallway as they all waited patiently for the toilet to be come vacant.

One of the not so tall but definitely thick and fat German fellows blocked Andy’s ascent toward the “loo” with his forearm across the hallway.

“Back back back” I heard him say.

“I have to shit” Andy said again trying to move past the thick flesh barricade of the German.

“you wait” Germany guy barked again.  It was a wise choice for Hemp boy Andy to back away as I”m sure the thousand of protein shakes he had consumed the past years of his life wouldn’t have saved him against the much thicker and much hairier German fellow.

Like a cat trying climb a tree Andy instead tried to paw at the open window in the hallway where every other one of the passengers had their nose and mouths pointed upward at the fresh salty air blowing in from above.

He gave up however, instead opting for a double hand grip of his ass as he staggered out of the hallway back towards me as if I had an answer for his troubles.  He opened his mouth to speak but when he did so all he could muster was another “wrat wrat wrat wrat” as his upset stomach brought him to his knees.  You know, for a moment as he grabbed onto the scuba tanks I thought I could read his mind, that he was seriously considering dropping his three day build up of non organic vegetables and wheat grass right there on the deck.  But as he squat down he thought better of it , instead eyeing the ladder to the upper deck.

He sprinted, yes sprinted, over to the ladder timing his run right as the boat reached even keel between being smashed between the waves and double clutched the sides of the ladder just as the boat lurched to the left again.  As Andy climbed up to the top of the ladder he was met by two of the scuba boat crew urging him to back down the ladder and blocking his way further.

I couldn’t hear the conversation he had, he was out of ear shot but the talk between him and the two Thai guys was short as each was equally determined.  The discussion ended with Andy determined to proceed and the crew equally determined to block access to the upper deck.  There was an attempted push by Andy which was met by four gentle hands stopping his upward progress.  Then, magnificently Andy did a frog jump off to the ocean side of the boat and his hands clutching the top deck railing were the only thing that kept him from plunging into the ocean.  Like a monkey he tried to shimmy to his left towards the bow of the boat but as he did so the ship rocked like a roller coaster so that he was leaning dangerously close to the ocean waves.  He thought better of his shimmying and instead remained motionless in a stretched out position while the crew guys up above were confused whether to again stop him or to offer him a helping hand.

Even for me, I saw the danger of the situation as I remembered how uncomfortable Andy had been in the peaceful swimming pool the day before and I had genuine concern for his safety if he didn’t immediately make his way back to the deck where I was.

I yelled up to the crew guys to help him but they had left to alert the captain.

Then it happened.

There was a stillness in Andy and time seemed to freeze or at the very least slow down to capture the thought process going on in Andy’s mind.  I think what happened was that for a moment the terror of his predicament subsided and was instantly replaced by his preceding concern, the fact that his need to vomit or shit had driven him to that side of the railing in the first place.

With his right hand clinging to the rail he pulled down his Khaki tan shorts and his underwear and jiggled his legs until they both simultaneously fell to rest at his ankles over his flip flop shoes.  His left hand waved a few times missing reacquiring it’s hold on the railing, but when it did I saw something that will forever blind my eyes and scorch my memory.

A shower of shit blew out of his ass , a very long and seemingly never ending shower of fluffy light liquid poo – the type brought on by a rabbits diet.  The grossness of seeing that was replaced by sudden curiosity as like I told you, it was windy, very windy.  I actually from my perspective leaning out the port side of the back of the ship saw the trajectory of the shit stream being redirected from his ass and blown back down and in from the wind … into the open windows down on the hallway below.

All of a sudden there was a mass shriek of men and women alike and an instant later five to six people came stumbling, coughing, retching out of the hallway door all collectively trying to clean the shit they had just accidentally swallowed from Andy’s ass up above.  Some had been hit in the hair , some on the side of the face, and some, or in particular the barbie girl and the thick German guy had taken a direct shot to the mouth.

My eyes shot back and forth, and there couldn’t have been a more opposite set of feelings within meters of one another.  Andy up above had a post-orgasmic look of relief on his face as he tried to shake his pants and undies off his ankles preferring to go naked rather than to cover up his organic dirty ass with newly bought British underwear.  Meanwhile, Germany guy had a look in his eye when he saw Andy hanging there like he wanted to exact enough violent revenge on Mr. England Andy that it would surely atone for the losses of World War two in one horrible beating.

Like I said, I’m going to cut the story off there as what unfolded after that was neither funny not kind enough to write about.  Though I know that to this day Andy is traumatized about the remainder of that day trip I constantly remind him in emails that the epic comedy of the situation and that it is the single biggest ass to mouth bdsm session ever administered makes it something he should remember as a memorable day … not a forgettable one.

Jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Solitude | The Sound of Silence

If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude.

It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.

I’ve added this song to my playlist as I’ve been listening it to it endlessly throughout the soul wrenching holidays.

The original version, berift of emotion, doesn’t make me cry.

This one does.

My session yesterday went a long way to restoring my faith that not all men are destined to disappoint.

Still, these are my feelings …

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turn my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

“Fools,” said I, “you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sound of silence…..

All of that song, every word.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Powerball Poverty

Poverty is solvable.

It’s just that whether it be in USA, here, or wherever, the people who have money don’t want it solved.

I do.

I can tell you right now that without a doubt, that is exactly what I would do if I won that crazy USA Powerball lottery. I”m pretty sure I can get by just fine living off the interest of 4 million dollars invested in 2% bonds for the rest of my life just fine. Do you know what the result of me doing that would be? Well for one, every person would be able to live off a base salary of $80,000 per year, or 2.4 million baht. And secondly, this …

… would disappear forever.

How nice would that be? I’m not anywhere close to America though.  So here’s a thought.  If you’re crazy enough to take a chance at changing the world, buy a ticket for us.  No contract, no verbal promise, just your oath that if by miracle we win, you’d spit in greed’s face and carry out my dream.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Happy Trails, Alan Rickman

The first two weeks of 2015 , for me anyways , have been about death or more specifically – cancer.

I don’t know David Bowie either from his movies or his music as it was before my time.   The first time I came across him was in the movie Labyrinth and even then I barely took notice as I watched it just to see the beginning of Jennifer Connelly’s acting career.

With regards to Alan Rickman though , I am greatly saddened by his passing as in my heart he owns one of the character roles which is truly unforgettable.  I think for each of us there are particular movies that we never forget no matter how popular or obscure they may be just by how captivating and completely unforgettable an actor may have been in a role.  “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” comes to mind when I first was introduced to Leonardo DiCapprio …

As does Heath Ledger’s The Joker and others too numerous to mention as my life is full of these lonely nights where I buy three to four every evening and thus my head is swimming with memorable performances.

None more so than Hans Gruber in Die Hard.

I guess I should be more impressed by his role as Severus Snape as it is more recent but the role that made me run to IMDB and find out for myself “who is this guy” was seeing him as Hans as I’m drawn to men who can talk while controlling their cadence – Han Solo by Christopher Walken as played by Kevin Spacey also as a great example of cadence.  (and also explains my fascination with the spaceyinspace movement)

Losing him to Cancer was tragic.  If you’re gonna go , it’s better to go out like this wouldn’t you agree? …

There will never ever be a cure for cancer.  Not so long as countries like mine and especially the biggest ones like the USA hold one’s health as a hostage to the bigger objective of achieving a greater profit for health care companies.

Curing cancer gets in the way of attaining higher profit.  Not to mention that if ever a cure was discovered by anyone other than a conglomerate it would never see the light of day.  Profits have to be made after all.

Another of the primary reasons I want nothing more than to get the fuck out of here is that I want to live in a country that has made health care accessible to every citizen.   Actually above that, I want to live in a country where – when one day I have to go to the hospital – I want to know that whomever is “curing” me actually has my best interest in mind and not the best interest of his wallet.

Here I go getting on my soap box again knowing very well that when I do my theories be they good at heart are flawed.  I surely don’t have enough medical knowledge to be fully conversant about the validity of prescribing which kind of drugs for every ailment.  I just question that every single time without fail that I’ve gone to a medical facility here I’ve been prescribed no less than 4 sets of pills to go buy on the first floor of the hospital.

In fact, one of my ‘conditions’ that I have to deal with is that I have sensitive skin.  It’s why when you guys email me at 3am asking me what I’m doing and I reply that I’m still cleaning my condo, it’s not because I’m going all Howie Mandel on you guys, it’s because I need things cleanly.  I’ve long since given up on hospital visits to ensure my skin is beautiful, the last time I recall being given a laundry list of no less than 10 packs of pills to buy.   My alternative then is ? … pay for a private clinic where supposedly I’m getting ‘more professional’ opinions.

In my books, if the quality of the opinion is in direct correlation with the amount of money paid at the door , the system is self serving and sucks.

I’ve argued about this like crazy with Mistress Wael regarding her sister.  I offered to pay for her sister to go get re tested at a private hospital (vs the government hospital she initially went to years ago) and the result was that all her prescriptions – photographed here – was cut upwards of 80 to 90% , but even though her health improved by doing so she quickly reverted to taking the 30 pills per day.

To the uneducated, ‘more is better’ is a mantra, which in the kickback world of pharmaceuticals here fits nicely thank you very much.

Profit.  More important than poverty.  Far more important than health.  Definitely more important than freedom as some prison models are profit based.

As George Carlin once said, ‘it’s important to not give a shit’.

He later said to “watch and let it burn” but then an addiction to pain killers and alcohol got him in the end.  Sad.

Let it burn.  I got kicked out of pretty much everything in school as well.  Let it burn and enjoy the freak show while I’m here because I don’t fit in either.  There’s good and bad with that though living where I live.  The bad is that I live in a place where conformity is pretty much mandated but the good is that said conformity makes everyone blind and allows me to sneak through the cracks unnoticed.

Meanwhile I’m fighting cancer , expensive health care , and the rest of the bullshit by doing my best to stay healthy.  I don’t smoke, will never touch drugs , drink only when I dance , and I dedicate myself to fitness.  Lately I’ve decided to dedicate myself to Muay Thai … well , that is if I can get two Muay Thai gloves that fit on my left and right hands instead of being sold two for my left hand.

On the roulette wheel of diseases , I don’t know which one my ball will land on, but I truly hope it isn’t cancer.

And if it is?

I’ll do my best to make sure my last words before I die are “yippie ki yay motherfuck” to honor Sir Alan.

jaa xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM

Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Rat-A-Tat-Tat | Seducing My Neighbour

“Rat – A – Tat – Tat , Rat – A – Tat – Tat” it begins again.  Like clockwork at 7:30am,  just when I’ve laid down to sleep as my vampire nocturnal alarm clock says I should do , the neighbor’s drilling into my bedroom wall and by extension into my brain starts once more.  It’s been like this every morning for a solid two weeks, a two week trek into insanity without sleep.  Which is bad enough but seeing as it’s come close on the heels of my battle with the flu in mid-January I had started to feel that I had gone the better part of a month without any rest whatsoever.

I have but one solitary pillow so I take the thin blanket and tie it around my head so I look like Ali Baba from the 40 thieves in an attempt to muffle out the noise but alas, it muffles out the sound the way a bottle of Jack would remedy a hangover.

“Rat – A – Tat – Tat” again.  Fuck, how much renovation can this fucker do on one wall over the course of two weeks?  Is turning his wall into Swiss cheese his idea of new decor?  And if so, how long does it take really to drill a few hundred holes, surely not a fortnight?

I yawn with my mouth so gaping wide a bear would mistake it for a cave to hibernate in.  My two hands wipe away the tears of frustration in my eyes, pulling them down so that my cheeks are pulled down towards the lower half of my chin and then my fingers crawl through my hair pulling slightly to alleviate my pounding headache somewhat.  It works, the way a peanut satisfies a satiating hunger.

Rat – A – Tat – Tat , Rat – A – Tat – Tat .

Now I don’t believe in god, heaven, hell or any of the nonsense humans make up to mask their fear of not existing after death, but I do subscribe to the theory that the concept of infinity means whatever action each of of does at any instant of time has already been done an infinite number of times.  As I lay there in my bed thinking about the concept of infinity I secretly prayed that this life be the one plane of time that me and the neighbor’s life will cross paths … so that I may pull his scrotum sack up over his face and pin it there with needles.  More or less.

It wasn’t even 11am that I gave up once again trying to get a moment of sleep and with half open eyes I did my best to coherently answer the 40 or so emails that were waiting for me.  Forty is a misnomer for every 4 replies I send I inevitably get one back, so 40 becomes 50 which becomes 60 and so on until that number also approaches infinity, or at least that’s how it seems … especially when dead tired.

I get these “you’ve been distant” emails from everybody this month and January as well, along with “are you ok???? You haven’t written for your blog in a month” type emails.  I apologize.  You know that nauseating feeling you get in your stomach when you’re at wit’s end from working too hard or having suffered through a never ending sickness?  That’s how I’ve felt every day since about January 15th.

Rat – A – Tat – Tat , gosh the wall’s about to collapse it seems as the noise hits its crescendo mid afternoon.  Then it suddenly stops right at 3pm, an hour before my first session.

Mercy.  Thank you.

“The quality of mercy is not strained, it dropeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. ”   Ya, Shakespeare never lived beside this dude I can guarantee you that.  Mercy from this guy doesn’t drop like rain it hits you over the head with a sledgehammer saying “enjoy the silence, I’ll be back.”

I rattle off 4 straight hours of Tease & Denial and I’m ultra cruel with both dudes as I let them both leave in succession without an orgasm, the second guy literally back shuffles out my condo door begging me while clutching at his dick and balls with both hands, his pants sprouting a horizontal metal flag pole from the crotch area.  Then after my most hated part of what I do … the cleaning of the toys , sheets, clothes and the rest of the condo I realize that it’s 9pm and once again I haven’t eaten a single thing.  My refrigerator is a lost cause in such emergencies as it has more perfume inside of it than food.

What’s needed is a trip across the street to 7 Eleven to get some desperation food so I swipe my keys off the kitchen counter and I decide to forego changing back into my street clothes choosing instead to stay dressed in my skimpy and ultra sexy evening dress that I had worn for the last session.  I exit my condo and close the door behind me and upon hearing a double slam I checked the door handle to make sure it was locked.

When I turned towards the elevator my blood froze.  Walking step in step beside me was Mr. Drill Happy himself.  Now if you know me and you know my personality … well you know that there wasn’t going to be any uncomfortable elevator silence for the trip to the ground floor.  By the time the doors opened to the lobby there was a genuine hate on between us and we were engaged in full argument which made the security guard manning the front desk stare and track us with his eyes as we bantered back and forth through the lobby.

Apparently that elevator also serves as Dr.Who’s telephone booth because I realized when I opened the lobby door leading outside that I was suddenly in the North West Territories of Upper Canada.  Or so it seemed as I had been oblivious to the fact it was about 15C outside with wind.  What I was instantly aware of however was that under my skimpy tight half see through dress my nipples had grown to the size of cookies .. the kind with real pointy rock hard chocolate chips … and Mr Drill guy was gawking at my chest suddenly.  That may have been the first time in my life I caught a guy staring at my boobs and not my ass.  Whereas it’s quite uncontested that I have the hottest ass in Bangkok , there are some 12 year olds who would place higher than me in a boob size competition.

“I don’t have anything to wrap you in, sorry” he said while making an empty gesture of taking off an invisible blazer or jacket.

“Well you could always put your arm around me if you want to keep me warm, I”m only going to 7 across the street.”

He seemed downright shocked at the offer and hesitantly put his arm over my shoulder to which I leaned right in to his warm chest and held him tightly with my right arm around his waist.  It was downright funny seeing him walk past the saluting security guard by the sidewalk with a boner that seemed to be saluting back.

By the time we got inside 7 Eleven he was laughing at how cold I was to which I slapped his left shoulder and told him how much he sucked as a blanket.  I got my eggs, rice, and soi sauce and he stood in line beside me with laundry detergent of all things.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” I asked him suddenly right out of the blue.

He didn’t say yes, he just nodded eagerly the way a five year old does having just been offered free ice cream.

“Then we’re going to need a bottle of wine”

“Two” he said quickly.

“Two” I confirmed.

I know you’re thinking something like the shot glass scene from Indiana Jones was going to go down later that evening … and you’d be absolutely correct haha.

We sat on the living room couch with the balcony doors fully open so as to allow the cold breeze to playfully flap the lace of my dress happily around my boobs.  By the time we reached the bottom of the second bottle he was trying to gauge whether or not I was drunk enough to make his move.  Though our conversation had been quite interesting all evening long with topics that had covered Noriega, New Zealand and Nietzsche among others, his brain was more focused on what was inside my dress rather than inside my mind.

He leaned over to get inside my personal space and when he did my foot came up to rest upon his mouth.

“Before I ask you to leave, which I’m going to do momentarily, I need you to promise me something in return for letting you touch my feet with your mouth as you’re doing now.”

I think secretly, all men desire to kiss a woman’s feet.  There must be something about having a woman’s foot pressed up against your mouth that makes you remember how great the days were when you crawled around with a baby sucker in your teeth.

“Promise you what?” he said speaking directly through my toes without any attempt to remove them whatsoever.  Guys when confused, will take any action as a sign of foreplay.  Hell I could probably have played hide and seek with my baby toe inside his nostril and he would have let me do as I please.

“No more drilling before the afternoon.”

“Ahh” he scowled, “ok yes , and I get …” he let his voice trail off wanting me to pick up on the hint of the open ended sentence.

“You get to leave” I smiled and spoke at the same time standing up in the process.

He both backpedaled and walked forward to my condo door, twisting and turning about 4 times between the sofa and the foyer.  When we got there and he had slipped on his loafers he turned for one last desperate plea to stay.

“We don’t have to end the evening like this do we?”

I let the back of my right hand drop down and brush lightly against his bulging cock inside his pants as I stepped aside and opened the door with my left.

“You’ve done enough drilling for one day don’t you think?  and I leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek and thank him for a wonderful evening making sure to dwell on the fact that his personality had charmed me to no end.

“The pleasure was all mine, all mine, really, thank you, thank you for a wonderful evening, you are the most amazing Thai lady I’ve ever met and to think you live right next door.  My goodness.”

I closed the door behind him, waited half a second to enjoy my smile, and then on my tip toes I danced into my bedroom and leaped into my bed wrapping myself in my blanket all in one motion.  I glanced at my watch, 4am, wow – totally worth the 6 hours of seduction.  A moment later I was fast asleep, dreaming happily knowing that come dawn ;  hell would freeze over before he picked up that drill in the morning again.

k xx

Thai Mistress | Jaa | Elite Bankok Domina - Get on your knee's for Goddess Jaa, the sexiest dominatrix Bangkok has ever known, Domina specializing in Tease & Denial BDSM