Bangkok Bdsm Dominatrix Jaa4u >> Pasaya Almighty
I was sitting at home earlier today looking up on Google “people who ought to be killed” to see if anyone has listed my sister and sadly I found that nobody had as of yet. I found George Carlin has a list of other people I also agree should be strapped into chairs and have their balls beaten with hammers. Sadly my sister doesn’t have balls, she should, it would explain why she washed her clothes on Sunday and they still cover the couch in the small room I share with her 3 days later. When i asked her how she can live her life so filthy she said “who are you you’re not my mom.” , in Thai because she’s the only one of the three between me, my uncle, and her who insist on not speaking English.
“Good” i replied, “if I was your mom I would have stopped you from being born if I knew you would live your life like this.”
There’s my ‘edgy’ style again that somebody said i have that is opposite of the ‘motherly’ style that someone else here used to write with. I’ve spent the last three days trying to write one story in a new motherly style and after 10 failed tries i came to a conclusion that maybe i need to have a kid to be able to write like a mother. Then again, maybe the thing i’m the most proud of is that I escaped village life without having a baby, and that at 27 years old to still be single, intelligent, educated, and childless puts me in the .01% of the population that have those assets.
So as I glared at my sister talking to her equally jobless boyfriend on her mobile all morning until her battery was fully depleted I just suddenly got the urge to put as much distance between me and stupidity as possible and went to Terminal 21 to do my email in private.
Answering bdsm email is like being Jim Carrey in Bruce Almighty after he discovers he has the power of God, but then deciding not to use any of those powers at all. Pasaya, in case you didn’t already know, means Bitch in Thai, but the more I manage this business and manage myself the more I find that I’m the complete opposite of the name I’ve given myself. Correct me if i’m wrong, but don’t I have a moral obligation to any submissive man to not ruin his life, even though that’s the very fantasy they want to live out through me? Sometimes like today, i’ll be sitting in Secret Recipe nibbling on cake when i just have to put my fork down after reading an email and say out loud “why? For what reason would a man of sane mind send me an email like this?” Then i’ll continue with my email choosing not to answer back quite yet to what I had just read and suddenly i’ll run into another email that’s just as equally shocking.
See, not only must I protect the identity of all those who contact me but it’s come to the point where I’ve had to break off email to protect the lives of these people as well. But here’s what that does to me, it causes a conflict in my mind about how far to take the slave mistress relationship. I’ve found myself spending hours like I did today reading over 100’s of twitter accounts and websites from other mistress’s and I haven’t found much comfort. There seems to be no moral guidance with some of these girls. They view the man’s submissiveness as a tool to do whatever they want with him and I just can’t do that.
So ask yourself, when was the last time you were completely seduced by a girl. To the point where you cannot get her out of your mind, where every minute for days or weeks after the session she is in your blood when you are awake and your thoughts when you are asleep? That’s what I do for a living, and i’m very good at it. While that’s fun for the 2 hours that you are with me it becomes a problem when guys start making plans to leave their wives, abandon their job, leave land and country to come be my personal slave. I think as a mistress that has so much control over a man it’s my responsibility to tell him ‘no’.
The same as when i say my sister “ought to be killed” I clearly mean that she frustrates me to the point that I can’t believe she is of my own blood. When I say “your life belongs to me” I clearly mean in the realm of play, not in the realm of reality.
Now the rule of “believe half of what you hear and and all of what you see” applies here. Did any of these guys who claimed insanity of lust for me as the reason they did these deeds for me ever actually do the things they said they did? Hmm, maybe maybe not. I do have visual proof that these guys are doing the tasks I give them to do through email domination but those are harmless acts of writing out lines for me, buying my brand of panties and wearing them for me, writing my name on their dick before going to pick up a girl.
What scares me is trying to sleep thinking “did so-and-so actually rape his wife with my name tattooed on his penis so that she would leave him allowing him to be with me.” Or what to do after so-and-so shockingly shows up at my condo from France with suitcase and bank book in hand ready to pledge his life to me … without even being invited. Or a Malaysian man willing to pay for a same day flight and session to only see me, but not willing to pay for a hotel so that he may walk around Bangkok with my poo in his mouth all night to prove his level of devotion to me.
It didn’t take three days to figure out what style edgy or motherly to tell each of them no, stop, too much.
These guys don’t need their balls beaten with hammers, they just need a little bit of love and be given a compass so they can get their life course back on track. Except my sister, she can remain lost at sea for all I care.
pasaya xx
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