The Travelogue of Katia Thornwood – Part 3.

Pub Street was quite the sight. Compared to the smaller roads outside the city, this one roared with crowds of tourists, partying the night away. I’d enjoyed a glass of wine and some dinner with the group, and some of them asked after Ben. I offered the explanation that perhaps he had seen a little too much sun earlier, though Kim was watching me with some suspicion.

 

Two hours in, I broke off from the group – who were going on a pub crawl until the wee small hours. My thoughts were getting back to the captive in the bathroom. I hailed a tuk tuk via the tourist goods  store, where I hastily purchased shaving foam and a razor.

 

I was, in truth, a little worried about Ben. He had caught rather a lot of sun earlier and though he was young and fit, he was still relatively inexperienced and would be thirsty by now, and possibly dizzy from limited circulation in his position. These are the sorts of practicalities one has to consider as a Mistress. People seem to think its all whips and chains and screaming for Mommy, but there’s a lot more too it than that. Aftercare is just as important as punishment. Maybe more. I imagined  if nothing bad had transpired in the bathroom in this last little while, Ben would be a little raw from this experience, to say the least.

 

Keys in the lock. Inside, I throw down my bag and head to the bathroom.

 

No corpse. Good.

 

Ben is exactly how I left him, except he is sleeping. The floor in front of him is wet with drool, a glaze of it down his legs and the front of his shirt too. He doesn’t stir when I fetch the shaving cream and razor, or when I fill up a bowl with hot water from the tap in the shower next to him.

 

I fetch two scarves next, laying them out with the shaving things beside my bed. When I fetch the cock cage, I drop the keys. They clang to the floor and Ben stirs with a snort.

 

“Mmmgh? MMRGHHH! MMMRGHH!”

 

“On my way.”

 

I walk over, undo the ring gag and release it from his unclenching teeth. Garlands of beaded drool cascade from either side of his mouth to the leather, splashing down with the rest as I toss the gag to the side.

 

“How long have I been here? You left me! Uncuff me! I want to leave! You’re crazy! UNCUFF ME NOW!”

 

The handcuffs clinked loudly against the metal rail as he tried to flail his hands.

 

“Calm down Ben. Someone will hear.”

 

“I want someone to hear! You’re crazy! A devil! Uncuff me!”

 

Disorientated, his head swung in all directions: my red panties still hanging over his eyes. I gently pulled them off.

 

“I’m sorry Ben, I couldn’t take you seriously wearing those on your head. Now… you were upset?”

 

I knew then that I had pushed him too far. Rookie mistake. I’d have to handle this carefully. Obviously I can’t do my job without the permission of my subs. That said, after all of this work, I was reluctant to let him go that easily.

 

I took the keys out of my bra and dangled them in front of his red face. So much for submission – my slave looked like he wanted to bite me, and not in a good way.

 

“Ben. You are angry and a little afraid, I understand.”

 

I crouched down in front of him, stroking the side of his head and angling my breasts within his sight line. He gazed reflexively down at them for a moment, then fixed me with a glare.

 

“That… that wont work… uncuff me now. Now Katia! I’m not joking!”

 

I put the keys down in front of him. He wiggled, but of course – what could he really do? He could only kneel helplessly as I leaned forward as if to whisper in his ear, but instead, traced my tongue down the soft, sunburned skin at the side of his neck.

 

“You taste good when you’re angry, Ben.”

 

“Don’t… don’t do that. Uncuff me. Right now. RIGHT NOW! You’re not a nice woman!”

 

I stopped, picked up the keys and undid his cuffs. His arms dropped down simultaneously and he turned his wrists and flicked his hands before placing them stroppily to the floor in a clumsy attempt to stand. His legs and arms, with their previously restricted blood flow, refused to obey his brain and he fell forward into my waiting arms. There, I cradled his head in my lap, his nose against my pubic bone as I stroked his hair. He sighed, relaxing a little.

 

“I never said I was nice, Ben. I said I could teach you. A few days ago you wanted to be taught. You wanted to please me. But if that has changed… this path isn’t for everyone. Perhaps you are not as strong as I judged you to be. There’s no shame in being weak, Ben…”

 

“I’m not weak!”

 

Ah. Straight in the ego.

 

“I imagine you’re a pretty lousy fuck too, and a mediocre human being at best.  That’s ok though, Ben. There’s a validity to that too. You’d be in the majority.”

 

Ben gave me a look as though he wanted to lunge at me, but did nothing. I yawned, released him, leaving him glaring forward as I turned and began to walk away.

 

Behind me, Ben was having a bit of a tantrum. Quite adorably, he’d reverted back to the speaking ability of a toddler too.

 

“I… you… I… you…YOU…”

 

“I don’t have time for games, Ben. Shit or get off the pot. In or out.”

 

I stopped in the door frame, unfastened the clasp on the back of my dress and let it slide down my body to the floor. The anger in Ben’s eyes was dimming, replaced by that familiar flicker of arousal as he ran his eyes along my bare skin. I had won and he had lost.

 

“If you’re out – your clothes are in the other room where you left them. Close the door on your way out.”

 

I walked out, kicking off my heels in front of the bed, then lying down on the cool sheets. The ceiling fan clacked around on its circuit, its breeze cooling my belly and curling down my legs.

 

Ben didn’t come out  right away. When he did, he lingered in the bathroom doorway. Apparently his circulation was all back to normal now. He was trying to downplay a certain increase of blood flow downstairs with my bath towel.

 

“I’m tired, Ben. Towel goes back in the bathroom. Good night.”

 

I closed my eyes. No footsteps. He was still there.

 

“Uh… Katia? Mistress?”

 

I opened one eye sleepily.

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I uh… I want to apologize…”

 

“Mmm Hmm.”

 

I closed my eyes again.

 

“I do want you to teach me, Mistress. I just… I wasn’t comfortable. I thought you were making fun of me. Laughing at me.”

 

I sat up with a sigh, looking at this penitent slave of mine, standing there pathetically with his towel and hungrily observing my state of undress.

 

“Of course I was, Ben. You are very laughable.”

 

Ben frowned. I tested the water in the shaving bowl with my fingers. Tepid now. I was feeling the effects of the wine and heat earlier now, and on a different night, I could have easily slept. But the thought of Ben and his boner, standing on the threshold of truly beginning this process, was motivation enough to stay awake.

 

“Life is hard if you take yourself so seriously, Ben. I wont be able to teach you either. So if you truly mean what you say, then you are going to have to learn to approach this process with a sense of play. Reverence and obedience too, but a sense of play is the most important thing for working with me. You understand?”

 

Ben nodded, considering. I walked over to him, throwing my arms over his shoulders and pressing my body into his. His erection poked me in the belly, so I pushed it down hard, then straddled it. Ben gasped.

 

“So Ben,” I whispered, “Do you want to play… with me?”

 

He drove his erection deeper into my thighs. As his breath came faster,. I could feel him stiffen through the fabric of the towel.

 

“Yes Mistress. Yes!”

 

I bit his neck, hard. His fingers released their grip on the towel as he moaned, and it slid down to the ground with a dull thud.

 

“Good, then let’s begin.”

 

*

 

I led him into the shower, turning on the warm jets and throwing the shower at over the drool that had amassed on the tiles earlier.

 

“Stand. Do not move. Do not look at me – and as I mentioned earlier, do not cum.”

 

“I wont, Mistress!”

 

I reached for the soap, lathering it up in my hands. The ‘slupslupslup’ of it foaming in my palms distinctly similar sounding to other things that I’m sure Ben was thinking about at that very moment.

 

With a rich lather going, I began to wash him, rubbing his shoulders first. Lathering more, then moving in circles over his pecs, feeling both nipples stand stiffly to attention with every movement of my fingers. Ben moaned, thrusting his hips forward. I stopped.

 

“No. No thrusting.”

 

“I’m sorry Mistress, I cant help it! I cant take this… much longer…”

 

I grabbed him hard by the balls and squeezed. He flinched and cried out. I stared coldly into his terrified eyes.

 

“You can and you will, Ben.”

 

“Y…yes Mistress.”

 

Slupslupslup. Slupslupslupslup.

 

I worked his sides, around his belly button, above his cock, then slid my hands around his hips to the back, digging nails into both of his bare ass cheeks.

 

“Mistress… I’m going to…!”

 

I moved out of the way to avoid the warm jet of cum. Ben moaned incoherently as I hurriedly stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. In a few moments, he had stopped speaking in tongues and attempted to apologize.

 

“You could have got me in the eye with that!”

 

“I’m sorry, Mistress! I’m really sorry!”

 

“I’m going to have to punish you.”

 

“I’ll do anything, Mistress.”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Anything. Yes Mistress.”

 

I threw him the towel.

 

“Alright. Dry yourself. Then get on the bed. On all fours.”

 

Ben dried himself quickly, then raced to the bed, his flaccid cock bouncing pathetically in a crumple of foreskin.

 

I walked over to my toy bag, pulled out the strap on with its terrifying red appendage and fastened it to my waist. Hearing the jingle of buckles from where he was crouched on all fours, back towards me, his head reeled around and his eyes widened.

 

“No… n… no Mistress. Not that. It’s… it’s so big…”

 

I shot him a wicked smile, bouncing up and down on my toes, phallus dancing in its leather harness.

 

“It is big, isn’t it? Can you just imagine something this big driving into that little virgin ass of yours?”

 

Ben looked like he was going to cry. He went to sit up.

 

“Stay! All fours!”

 

Ben bit his lip and assumed the position.

 

“I’m not even sure if it would fit. Something this size… that would take a lot of lube… and even then…. I’m just not sure. I guess it would be fun to find out.”

 

I walked teasingly up to him, with my waist high object of terror.

 

“Please Mistress. Anything… but that. Spank me! Hard! As many times as you like! All night even! I don’t mind! I WANT TO BE SPANKED… PLEASE!”

 

I gave him a sharp slap.

 

“I bet you do. But I think you enjoy it too much, and I don’t have the time or inclination to spank you all night.”

 

“Mistress…”

 

“Settle down. I was only going to shave you.”

 

“But the…”

 

“I happen to like wearing a strap-on, Ben. Now, no more questions. Hands forward, grasp the frame.”

 

Ben did as I asked and I secured both wrists to the bed frame with silk. I noticed with amusement that at no time during this process did Ben lose his focus on the strap-on.

 

“Ben, I do believe you’re a bit more keen to enjoy my toy than you’re letting on. You can barely take your eyes off it! I can… if you’d like that…”

 

I reached for the bottle of lube. Ben shook his head wildly.

 

“No? OK. Suit yourself.”

 

I splashed water on his crease, lathered him up and began to shave the coarse hairs away. I rested the strap-on between his tensed thighs, letting it bounce softly against his balls as I ran the razor down his cheek. Ben trembled: overwhelmed with sensations.

 

“You might want to stay still, Ben. That is, if you don’t want to lose a testicle. I would imagine being fucked in the ass would hurt a lot less than that.”

 

Ben complied and I continued my work. I felt him tense as I pulled his cheeks apart with one hand, to drive the slippery mix of shaving foam and water into his crease, rubbing against his anus with a lubricated thumb  and massaging his balls with the strap on as I rocked my hips gently backwards and forward behind him.

 

In a few moments, Ben’s ass was shorn smooth.

 

“You know why I am shaving you, Ben?”

 

“No Mistress.”

 

“Some people say, without hair, your skin is a lot more sensitive  to sensations. I don’t know. What do you think…?”

 

I rinsed him off and rose up on my knees, teasing his perineum with the tip of the strap-on. He gasped and pushed himself backwards onto it, not allowing it to penetrate, lingering just on the edge of it. His panting rough and fast now.

 

I hopped off the bed, he looked around at me, hopefully. Hungrily.

 

“That’s enough for one night, Ben. I really need some sleep. Take the razor and the cream – you can deal with the rest of it.”

 

I untied his wrists. He didn’t move. He was still staring at the strap-on and goodness if that boy wasn’t excited all over again. He collapsed to lay face down on the bed and started to grind on it.

 

“Ben! No! Bad! Down. That stops right now.”

 

I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head up to get him to look at me. Ben gazed helplessly into my eyes. In those almost black irises, I saw a mix of arousal and terror about what had just aroused him. With incredible need and no permission to cum, he looked utterly torn, pleading with his eyes for something I was not going to give him… at least not tonight.

 

“Go home, Ben. Take a cold shower. I’m tired.”

 

Ben got slowly up, then started walking towards the bathroom.

 

“Not my shower. Yours! Go!”

 

“Uh… yes Mistress.”

 

Ben stumbled back to the wall, then composed himself and darted to the pile of clothes he had shed earlier, lifting up his pants.

 

“Not here, Ben. Take it to your room.”

 

“But…”

 

“Ben…”

 

“Uh, yes Mistress!”

 

Ben picked up the clothes pile, covering his excitement as best he could, and fled out into the night. I chuckled as I closed the door and curtains, catching a glimpse of this naked, terrified slave of mine running off down the dirt path under the moonlight.

 

The Travelogue of Katia Thornwood – Part 2

Later that evening, Kim and I were going through our luggage together, seeing if we could thin it out. Pulling out my evening wear, a long black dress with slits up at the sides and a plunging neckline, my toy bag fell out. I had clumsily forgot to zip it before packing it and as it rolled onto the floor, so did all of its erotic cargo.

 

Kim, trying to help, went to pick up one of the butt plugs. Purple, with a jewelled end. One of my favourites.

 

“Hey, what’s this?”

“Ah… don’t touch that.”

 

She recoiled. I picked it up. I always sanitize toys between uses – cleanliness is next to goddess-ness after all – but I didn’t want to scare her. Kim points to the head of the double ended dildo now, that is peeking cheekily out of the bag opening.

 

“Oh my god, what is that? It looks like a… like a…”

 

Well the cat (or dildo) was out of the bag now. So, with that, I began to try to explain to this innocent little thing from Malaysia, the various tools in my bag and their uses. Her eyes widened when I explained the plug.

 

“It goes where?”

“Some people like it.”

“But why? Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Mmm. Hopefully. Possibly at first.”

 

Kim looked at me with confusion, then amusement.

 

“You are a funny lady, Katia.”

 

I smiled indulgently at her. Time to put the toys away and change the subject. At that exact moment, Penelope – Thai tasselled skirt flaring out behind her – threw open the door and ran in crying. She smelled of coconut oil and her eyes were wild.

 

“I just went for a massage in town… and… and…”

 

“Penelope!” I said, stepping forward to help. “Whatever is the matter?”

 

As I stepped forward, one of my toys fell from the bag I was trying to zip. Penelope looked down at the mid sized, flesh coloured plug on her foot, shrieked and ran outside again, wailing louder. I looked at Kim in confusion. She shrugged.

 

Later, I heard through Kim that Penelope had apparently had a bit of a misunderstanding with a Khmer masseuse. Khmer massage – along with Thai massage – is known to be quite an intimate experience. But there are also two types of massage place: the ones that relax you and provide muscular and skeletal relief, and the ones that provide – for want of a better phrase – happy endings. Penelope, being Penelope, had stumbled into entirely the wrong kind of establishment and their attempts to give her a happy ending had very unhappy results.

 

She sat quietly at dinner, legs tightly crossed. I tied to engage her in conversation, but as the resort’s in-house sexual deviant, I was apparently only adding to her trauma and she refused to look at me.

 

Then along came Ben, with his tray of food.

 

“Penelope! Babe! What’s up? Time of the month?”

 

Ugh. Penelope winced. Now that was the last thing she needed right now.

 

I patted the seat beside me, glaring at Ben.

 

“You. Come. Sit.”

 

Ben stiffened, grinned, then did as he was told.

 

In the vast expanse of farms and stilt houses around the resort property, the heavy pound of Khmer music was playing. It would be Khmer new year in a week and the festivities were starting early. There was something incredibly pleasant about sitting by an open window, feeling the wood frame and chairs vibrate with every over amplified beat. In addition, the thrum of a thousand crickets in the garden outside and the intermingled incense from the Buddha shrine combined in the humid evening air in a way that was deeply sensual.

 

I excused myself from the dining hall early to scour the garden a final time. I found myself a fallen bamboo cane of the right size, then wandered to the apartment where Ben was staying and found – to my delight – a Kapok tree: it’s bark, a mosaic of merciless thorns. I pressed my body gentle against them, feeling each little point press threateningly against my skin. Yes, this would do nicely.

 

I waited there a while. The others left the dining hall and filed past me first. Bruno shot me a suspicious look, while the Aussie winked at me:

 

“You look like you’re up to no good.”

 

I grinned back at her and watched the group leave. No Ben. He was probably still eating. I imagined the others had grown tired of his inane prattle and rushed their meals to escape him.

 

Finally Ben came around the corner. He looked surprised to see me. I nodded to him and allowed him to walk a few more steps until he was between the Kapok tree and I.

He looked at the bamboo cane in my hand.

 

“Katia! What are you doing here? And what’s that stick for? Were you planning on beating me with it?”

 

I shot him a wicked smile, lifting the cane and placing it to the side of his neck.

 

Ben shifted uncomfortably, accidentally brushing the thorns on the trunk behind him. He winced in pain.

 

“I imagine you usually beat yourself. It might make for a nice change, mmm?”

 

“Uh…” he leaned back, as if to get away, but caught the thorns again. He could have moved away on either side, there was space, but his feet didn’t move. Presumably they knew something his fearful mind did not.

 

I started to trace the cane gently around his neck, then deliberately slowly, down the length of his chest, his sternum, his belly and down to his belt line. Then below. He spasmed a little.

 

“What’s wrong? Am I making you nervous?”

 

He gulped. Sweat was beading on his forehead. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself.

 

“N…no. It just… it’s just that it tickles a little.”

 

“Mmm. Tickles? I imagine it’s doing a whole lot more than that, Ben. At least, that’s what your other head is telling me.”

 

Ben looked down at the obvious bulge in his chinos, covering it reflexively with his hands, like Adam in the Garden of Eden perhaps, when realizing his nakedness. In a sense, he was naked. I saw right through his coyness and attempts at bravado, to the slobbering, desperate man inside. A slave to his desires, and soon, yes, to me too.

 

What an uncomfortable position to be in. Poor thing.

 

“No need to be shy, Ben. You think it’s the first time I’ve seen an erection?”

 

I smacked his hands away with the bamboo cane.

 

“Hold this for me, would you?” I said, placing the bamboo cane between his teeth. He held it obligingly, his eyes widening. “There’s a dear. Now let’s see what we have here.”

 

I knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on both of his hips firmly.

 

“There now. See? Do I look scared? It’s hardly threatening, Ben: you don’t need to protect me from it. I’ve seen bigger. Much bigger than this… attempt.”

 

Ben’s shoulders slumped and for a moment he looked like a little boy lost. I gently began massaging the side of his hips, then kneading forwards towards his groin, stopping short of the strained fabric there.

 

“Katia…”

 

“Yes, relax. That’s it. There. Now, you don’t need to look so afraid. Well, perhaps it’s wise, but you’re not going anywhere, are you?”

 

Ben shook his head, wincing as in a moment of relaxing his back caught the barbs of the Kapok.

 

“And you want to please me, don’t you?”

 

Ben nodded slowly. He looked wonderfully ridiculous, standing there helpless, cane between his teeth like an obedient puppy, awaiting my next instruction.

 

“Good. Good.”

 

I increased the speed and intensity of my massage, still avoiding the intimate area. So much of this work is the energy from potentiality. Sex is a release – it’s fast and furious and then its gone. Where there is tension, where there is potential, there is creativity and hunger. This is my preferred arena to work from, in all areas of my life, but especially in my work. Ben was moaning softly now, edging his erection towards my hands, but my hands always moving away from it, continuing to massage.

 

“I wonder what you thought when you saw me here, standing outside of your room. I look quite appealing, don’t I Ben? This black dress glides over my contours like poured wax and – ah – I caught you. You like breasts, don’t you Ben? It’s alright. You can look. They are very nice aren’t they? I bet you must have imagined what it would be like to hold them…”

 

I paused, watching his jaw clench over the bamboo.

 

“Perhaps to place one in your mouth… suckle on it. Mmm? Feel its softness giving to your tongue as you lapped on it.”

 

He was beginning to drool.

 

“And perhaps as you did that,  to have me sitting over you as you did that, sitting on that little mound of yours and squirming on top of it.”

 

Ben’s mouth gaped open, the cane falling out. I gave a sigh of exasperation, stopped the massage, picked it up not bothering to dust it off and shoved it forcefully back between his teeth.

 

“No Ben. I didn’t tell you to drop it.”

 

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like an apology, but there was too much saliva to make sense of it.

 

I knelt back down again, switching from the previous massage to just running my hands softly down his thighs. Ignoring his now more desperate attempts to thrust his boner into my hands.

 

“Settle! Just listen Ben, I am telling you a story. Please don’t be rude or I will be forced to take that cane from your teeth and impress my disappointment onto your buttocks. Understand?”

 

He nodded. He was moaning louder now, his breathing coming out in hard rasps. Anyone could hear. The thought crossed my mind that we may both get into a bit of trouble for these shenanigans, but this would only take a few moments more. He was close.

 

“Those images I just gave you. They caught your imagination didn’t they?”

 

I stood up, brushing the red dirt from the front of my dress and starting to walk away. I heard Ben let out a gasp, I heard the sound of the cane dropping to the floor. I turned to see his body spasm helplessly for a moment or two in front of the tree.

 

“Ben… did you just?”

 

Ben looked up at me, ashamed.

 

“Oh dear. Did I tell you to do that?”

 

Ben shook his head.

 

“No.”

“No Mistress.”

“N.. no… Mistress…”

 

His chinos had a growing darkness on their front now.

 

“I have to say Ben, I am really quite disappointed. I was simply trying to reassure you, to tell you a story, and you do – this.”

 

Ben looked at me, vainly trying to brush off the stain with one of his hands.

 

“You’re really quite pathetic. I would imagine there are wild horses with more self control than you.”

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

I raised my eyebrow and glared at him. He cowed.

 

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

 

I sighed, picked up the cane and dusted it off.

 

“Apology considered. Really Ben, as embarrassing as this whole thing is for you, you could consider yourself quite fortunate. I have the tools to teach you to overcome that undisciplined nature of yours and shape you into something far more… pleasing. It would of course be quite a lot of work for me, and I am supposed to be on vacation but…”

 

I ran the tip of the bamboo through my hair, brushing my bangs out of my eyes and looking Ben up and down.

 

“If you really want my assistance, I suppose you could ask very nicely and I might consider it…”

 

Ben paused for a moment, then knelt down before me.

 

“Yes… please Mistress. Please help me. I want to please you.”

 

I smiled. He looked a lot more fetching down in the dirt, than he had all day. I placed a wedged shoe on top of his back for a moment and rocked forward on it, pressing him down a little more. He spluttered a little, then looked up at me with a placating smile.

 

“Request accepted, Ben. Alright, your work starts tomorrow. Better get some rest – you will need it.”

 

Ben got up slowly, watching me conscientiously as a student might gaze at a teacher at the start of an important lesson. He jangled his key chain in his hand, flustered, and placed the key in the door.

 

“Oh and Ben?”

 

“Yes Mistress?”

 

“You’d better change those pants, unless you want to advertise to the world what a pathetic little thing you were tonight..”

 

“Yes Mistress.”

 

Ben disappeared into his room. I yawned and stretched my arms. To sleep now, perchance to dream, of a tailored set list of discomfort and frustration for my new project.

 

The Travelogue of Katia Thornwood – Part 1

All work and no play does make a person dull. And in my work, I need to always have an edge, or many, preferably sharp, pointed or at the very least, hard.

 

So I’m travelling to South East Asia for research, and of course a little respite. First stop, Cambodia, a little resort just outside of Seam Reap. Then Thailand – that heady mix of dirt, excitement, and mystery that I’ve always found so intoxicating a prospect.

 

Siem Reap is a harsh Mistress in herself. The heat is hard to explain, inescapable, it invades every pore and the only way to survive it is to surrender to it. My dewy skin breathes in temporary relief as the tuk tuk turns and the mildest hint of a breeze ripples through my cotton shirt, over my bare décolletage, sensually brushing bare skin and bringing me to life in a way I haven’t felt in a long while.

 

The road is an ordered chaos of interweaving tuk tuks, mopeds and cattle. The smell is a heady mix of boiling refuse and floral fragrance from the vegetation of the fields and forests beyond.

 

I contemplate being a stranger in a foreign land must be somewhat similar to how my submissives feel at times. At the mercy of many things that are beyond their control, trusting that things will work out because they have to, yet knowing around every turn is something that may just push them completely out of their comfort zone, at best, or completely destroy them, at worse.

 

No, I’ve never destroyed any of my submissives. There seems little point going to all the trouble I do for them to simply have them fall apart at the end. Yet I aways try to impress the possibility that I might have this unspoken destructive power, when I learn their fears and subject them to them in small, arousing doses. They don’t understand, in those moments of vulnerability and terror, that I never mean them any harm – I am simply showing them a new way. A way to transcend those dull fears and limiting beleifs that stop them living to their full potential. I am the inner city paint store to the suburban artist – come to me and I’ll show you shades and tones that you’d never known before. Especially red. I do like red. And purple. Even blue.

 

Opposite me in the tuk tuk, Kim sits quietly, hugging her backpack to her as if to protect herself from the world. We’re staying at the same resort, and while waiting for our driver she confided in me that this was her trip to find herself, after quitting a well paid but unsatisfactory job. She talked to me about her upbringing in Malaysia and the “Asian work ethic”, which I found very interesting. But the part where my ears really pricked up was when she spoke of physical discipline in the school system.

 

“When we were bad, to punish us, they used bamboo,” she said, obviously somewhat pained by the memory. “We were given a choice, thick bamboo, or many thin bamboos tied together.”

 

“Which did you choose?” I asked her.

 

“The thick one. It looks bigger, but it hurts less. The smaller ones tied together were sharp. They really sting.”

 

Bamboo. I take a mental note.

 

“How about you?” She asked, “What do you do?”

 

I raised my eyebrow at the girl sitting in front of me, some ten years younger than me and full of childish curiosity. Should I tell her what I do? The toys I have and where they go?

 

“I’m… not sure I should tell you.”

 

She leaned forward a little, eye widening.

 

“Oh. You do something bad? You mafia or something?”

 

She laughed at her own joke. I sighed and shook my head. How to explain? Do they have kink in Malaysia? Did she have a boyfriend? If so, that might make it easier. Kimmy, sometimes when two people love each other very much, they tie each other up and put things up their asses? No. No, and anyway, love has nothing to do with this business of mine. Affection? Yes. Friendship? Sure. Trust? Absolutely. It was not love, beyond that I love my work and the submissives seem to love theirs.

 

“Have you ever heard of Mistresses?”

 

Kim looked lost in thought a moment, then frowned a little.

 

“You mean, like the other woman?”

 

Ugh no.

 

“No. Different kind of Mistress. It’s about… being a person of power for another person to reliquish their power to. How to explain? Ok. When someone submits to me, to my whims and caprices, I can take them past their stale day to day reality and into a whole new world of strengths and possibilities. It’s a creative process of sorts.”

 

“Like a life coach?”

 

“Uh. Yeah, sure. Like a life coach.”

 

Kim smiles

 

“You could teach me! Be my coach, I need one.”

 

I smile back awkwardly. We enjoy a minute or so of uncomfortable silence until our tuk tuk rattles loudly down the stone drive of the resort.

 

Lush green canopy and a myriad of flowers and fragrance greets us at the gates. I learn that there  are seven others here, mainly females in their late twenties. Two men. One, a German called Bruno who looks very dull. The other a cocksure English man in his late twenties called Ben, who made me bristle (not in a good way) when he introduced himself to me in the manner of a drooling, undisciplined puppy. I pondered he might be a good subject to bring to heel.

 

Bags unpacked, Kim and I slipped into our bikinis and headed to the pool. The smouldering tiles surrounding it threatened to brand bottoms that lingered there too long, so we slipped slowly into the cool blue water, letting it cool our overheating skin. An English girl named Penelope was there, on a gap year, writing a segment on “following your bliss”

 

I suppose bliss is alright, but I’ve always found pain to be a better teacher. Perhaps that explained why she hadn’t learnt much. There was an Aussie girl there too, lean, angular and as intimidating in nature as the vast hot expanse she travelled from. Of course, I liked her immediately.

 

We were rudely awakened from our blissful soaking by a large blur of pale skin and red trunks whizzing over our heads and landing with a great splash in the pool.

 

Ben.

 

He came up, spitting water, like some kind of lecherous Orca.

 

“Ladies.” He said with a wink, then sidled up next to Kim. “Your first time here in Cambodia?”

 

He was leering at her chest. Practically drooling. No subtlety. He asked the question directly to her breasts.

 

Kim shot me a worried look. Help me. Ben was obviously blissfully unaware of how much of a cretin he appeared at that point in time. It came to me at that point that I’d have to teach him. Holiday schmoliday. This had every potential of becoming a very satisfying project indeed.

 

“Ben, is it?” I said.

 

He looked a little scared as I addressed him. Good. He nodded.

 

“You look like a physical guy, Ben.” His head perked up, rooster-like, obviously pleased with himself. This was disappointingly easy.

 

I lifted my leg out of the water,, being careful to brush the inside of his thigh with my big toe before presenting him with one of my black manicured feet. He tensed a little as I brushed that soft and vulnerable spot. His eyes betrayed in that moment all of the sad little fantasies such men have about women… before they meet me.

 

“My feet are an absolute wreck after all of this travelling.” I drawled, lifting my other foot out of the water. “I’d so appreciate a pair of big… strong… hands…”

 

I didn’t need to continue. He was already pressing and rubbing my feet with all of the hopeful obedience of a submissive.

 

I moaned sensually. I really couldn’t care less about the foot rub. I’m not a foot person. But this was all part of the game.

 

He stopped for a moment, looking at me with that stupid smile on his face. Probably thought he was going to get lucky later.

 

Oh, he had no idea.

 

I returned his gaze, unsmiling, and with solemn intensity. He gulped and turned away.

 

“Well,” I said, pushing my foot into his hand. “Carry on.”

 

He did as he was asked. Kim looked at me, puzzled. I shot her a wink. Penelope was giggling. Silly girl.

 

I looked around the lush garden. Many exotic plants, abuzz with butterflies and birds.

 

And there, between the bathrooms and the change rooms, exactly what I was looking for.

 

Bamboo. Canes of it dancing in the slow afternoon breeze.

 

I lay back, Ben kneading my feet as I plotted the ways in which I could knead him into a better specimen of man.

 

It was going to be a wonderful vacation. I could feel it.