The next morning, I wasn’t sure if – with time to think about the sensations of the night before – Ben would have left early for Bangkok. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he ran. Plenty do. And I’d put him on a bit of a fast track, given the timeline. Given the anonymity of a foreign country, and the lack of contact details, there would be nothing I could do about it.
At the breakfast table, the talk turned to the exploits of the group the night before. Everyone looked a little worse for wear, especially Bruno, who was pushing scrambled eggs around the plate with his fork. Apparently, Bruno had become a bit of an extrovert last night, after a few rounds of bucket drinks, talking about his recent divorce. The groups evening culminated in him attempting to dance on the speaker of the club. The others had had to wrestle him into a tuk tuk, offering drunken apologies to the frantic manager. He had started crying on the way home. The piece de resistance? He had thrown up on Penelope.
“You OK, mate?” Aussie said, passing Bruno a bottle of water. “You should drink something… you really went for it last night!”
Bruno groaned, letting his head fall forward onto his arms. A familiar figure appeared in the doorway, looking a bit self conscious.
“Ben!” Penelope cried.
“Hey mate! Where were you last night? Katia said you got sunstroke or something. You alright? Bruno didn’t do much better, poor bugger – look at him!”
Ben looked at Bruno, looked at me. I smiled.
“You were a little tied up, weren’t you Ben?”
Ben’s face began to flush. Aussie looked at me with a grin.
“I mean, Ben leaves today, so I imagine between the heat and the packing for his flight this evening, he was too busy, weren’t you Ben?”
“Something like that. Yeah.”
Ben took a pastry and sat down slowly with the group. He wolfed down his food, periodically glancing up at me. I pulled my hair brush out of my bag, catching Ben’s eye as I ran a manicured finger down the bristles and banged it a few times in my hand. He coughed and shuffled awkwardly in his seat, wincing a little.
“Ben, you don’t look well,” Kim said, “maybe you should get some rest? Your face looks really red.”
I started brushing my hair, placing my tongue between my teeth as I grinned wickedly at him. Ben’s eyes widened.
“I think I may go and lie down. Catch you later, guys.”
Ben got up, almost taking the table with him, and hurried out, day bag placed strategically over the front of his shorts. I chuckled.
When I got back to my room, I found a piece of paper slipped under the door: Ben’s address in Bangkok. His cellphone number. He’d be staying in Silom, nearest skytrain station, Sala Daeng. I slipped the paper into my wallet. He was going to continue the game. Good.
Signed, “I wont cum until you do, Mistress. Ben.”
I wiled away the last few days at the resort, taking time to relax, to ride a bike down the red dirt roads, past fruit and vegetable markets, with their spoiling cuts of meat and little Khmer children playing in the doorways of stores and homes. In the afternoons, I sunned myself by the pool, watching in amusement as an unlikely holiday romance bloomed between Penelope and Bruno. The boring and the naïve in perfect harmony. It was very cute.
Kim went onto Bali the day before I left, no doubt with an expanded mind. Sunshine and relaxation were good, but by the time I caught my flight to Bangkok, I was keen to get back to work.
Bangkok was hot, but not so oppressively as Cambodia. Compared to Cambodia’s sleepy vibe, the multisensory assault of Thai music thudding over loudspeakers from bars and restaurants, the endless stream of traffic, city lights and the smell of food carts were an adjustment.
I took a taxi to the hotel I had booked before the flight, deliberately close to Ben’s, in Silom. The City of Life is a place that never sleeps. If things went well in the few days, neither would Ben.
I didn’t bother to contact Ben the first night. He could wait. Instead I bought a Chang beer at the Skybar just around the corner and searched for Bangkok Mistresses. Call it window shopping. I was curious how they did things around here. Maybe I could learn a few things. There is a surprisingly large bdsm community in Bangkok and among a sea of PVC wrapped Mistresses was a wide range of ages and sexes. Petite women with scowls on their doll-like faces, to the more playful aggression of the ladyboy dominatrixes. There were a few much older women too that looked like they had spanked more than their share of bottoms in their lifetimes. All power to them.
My eyes settled on a Thai Mistress who looked in her forties. Her age showed in the soft lines around her eyes, but her eyes sparkled with a brightness of someone much younger, or etherically older. In her PVC leggings, t-shirt and stilettos, she could have easily passed for just another Thai woman dressed in black in the street, during this year’s duration of mourning for the King who passed just a few months before. Except for the riding crop, of course. That’s the fascinating thing about the bdsm community. By day its members are teachers, or mothers, or grandfathers or pastors – by night, they are master or servant. Two worlds, two lives. Mundane and mythical.
This mistress, crop in hand and reclining in the red velvet chair of the local Dungeon club in Patpong, reminded me of my own Mistress – the one who introduced me to the scene two years ago. The smile curled up to one side, like hers, giving the impression that she had two faces in one. Both filthy and tender. I’d met my Mistress through a friend at a work party, and while I consider myself hetero in preference, her, provocative language, razor sharp wit and exaggerated sensuality fascinated me immediately. Before I knew it, I was helplessly in love with her, which I now realize was foolish, because to her I was only ever a plaything to be dangled.
But what do you know? Turns out, I actually enjoyed being dangled, then whipped… then violated. By her. I would honestly have done anything for her if she had asked me to. And this relinquishing of my power to her gave me freedom and new strength to tackle other challenges in my life. Before meeting her, I was submissive and miserable about it. I would draw boundaries with others, but when I read the disappointment on their faces, I’d remove the boundary and feel utterly disgusted with myself. Mistress pushed me to remove my boundaries too, but it was different, because I had agreed to it and because she was pushing me to become something better. With every lash, every teasing word, every moment of her terrible silent treatment, I was excited, terrified and deeply aroused. When I couldn’t take it anymore, when I thought I hated her and wanted to give up, she would coax me back in with those words of hers and I’d lie before her again. Her’s totally. When it was time for us to go our separate ways, I was deeply sad, but also inspired. I started Mistressing shortly after, one sub at a time, opening the door for my subs to walk through, as she had opened it for me. I don’t think I could be submissive for anyone ever again. Except perhaps her.
Anyway, enough introspection. I drink up the rest of the Chang, take a few panoramic photos of the neon circuit board city below me and pull Ben’s number out of my purse. A ring tone.
Ben greeted me in the doorway of the hotel, attempting to hug me. My eyes looked dourly into his.
“Mistress..” he whispered, dropping his arms.
Ben looked down. I passed him my bag.
Ben walked ahead of me past the reception, where a Thai desk clerk was chatting animatedly in broken English to a couple, whose child was laying screaming on the floor. Nine o’ clock. I’d stopped by a stall on the way, seeing a black leather collar with a ring on the front, that might have been a fashion accessory for a teenager, but was large enough – I thought – for Ben’s neck.
We took the elevator to the 11th floor. The bay windows showed the electric buzz of Bangkok’s night scene. Ben’s room was around the corner. It was of a modest size and had a leaking faucet. How appropriate.
I kicked off my stilettos at the door, my feet throbbing from the heat and the recent travel. Ben had placed my bag next to the chaise lounge.
He dropped his pants immediately and hastily unbuttoned his shirt. I sat down on the silken chaise lounge.
“Crouch. All fours. Sideways, under my feet.”
Ben hurried over and crouched, the petechiae on his ass had begun to blossom into a map of purple and blue constellations. He’d shaved fully, exactly as I’d instructed, his cock far more vulnerable now it had no hair to hide in. It hung there vulnerably like a shrivelled up worm that even a broken beaked crow wouldn’t touch.
“Like this Mistress?”
I slapped him hard on his mangled ass.
“Did I instruct you to speak?”
“And say thank you, Mistress. I am spending my valuable time teaching you.”
“Thank you Mistress.”
His ass clenched. He didn’t say another word. I took the remote and turned on the television. A Thai lady in a pink suit was teaching Thai phrases. Ben’s head lifts to see what was on the screen.
“Ow! Thank you, Mistress!”
He looked down. I spanked him again and again until he was exactly how I wanted him to be: submissive and silent. Thai was an interesting language, I listened to the lady for a while – though throughout the tutorial there was no instruction on how to say, “yes mistress”. I pulled out my phone to Google it.
“Chi phu pen thirak”. That could be useful later.
I turned off the television, spreading my legs and running each along Ben’s back until one was placed behind his bottom, pushing him forward, and one below his downturned face, teasing his lips with my big toe, which he obligingly began to suck.
He released by toe with a satisfying smack of his lips and knelt before me, eyes down. I reached into my bag for the leather collar, unfastened it and placing it around his neck. I wondered if it would take a choke chain, whether it was real leather. Bangkok vendors have a saying: “same same” (but different). You ask if something is real leather and they say “same same” with a naughty grin that suggests it may or may not be, but who’s worried?
Buckle fastened, I pulled Ben’s head up by the hair and fixed him with my gaze.
“Who are you?”
Ben looked confused.
“No. Not Ben. Ben is that cocksure no-nothing that existed before you met me. Now you’re mine – my faithful lapdog, that would do anything for me.”
I reached down, grabbed his semi-erect cock and yanked it forward until I saw tears form in his eyes.
“And whose is this?”
“Y… yours Mistress…”
I released my grip, then mercilessly thrust my hand between his sweaty thighs to grasp his balls. He yelped as I squeezed.
“Y… ow… yours Mistress… please…”
I released my grip and withdrew my hand. Ben sighed, beginning to slump down but caught my gaze and straightened up. I leaned for the toy bag to retrieve the cock cage and keys.
“Stand. Quickly now.”
With Ben’s erections going up faster than new apartments in the city, I knew I had to work fast. I unlocked the fastenings, applied lube roughly to his cock and slid on the cage.
“What is that, Mistress?”
Click. The padlock snapped shut.
“It’s a cock cage, Ben. It means that your balls and cock are mine. I own not only your mind, but your pleasure too. And as both of your heads lack self-control, my metal friend here is going to help me with your lower one, while I turn the screws on your mind. That sounds good, doesn’t it Ben?”
Ben looked hesitant.
“Oh, what is it now, dog?”
“Uh, what if I need to pee, Mistress?”
“Then pee. I’m not stopping you. You might want to sit down though – I imagine it might get a little messy otherwise.”
“From now on, Mistress? How… uh… how long?”
“How long will you be in Bangkok?”
“Eight more days.”
“Perfect. I am here for another ten. So in eight more days you will get your toy back to play with, but for now its mine, understand? Day and night, under lock and key. And you might want to stay on my good side,” I say, jangling the keys on my finger, “because the Chao Phraya River is very deep and dark, and if these were to accidentally fall into it… well who knows how complicated it would be to get out of that.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Ben looked up at me in horror. I cackled and stood up, fetching the strap-on from my bag. I fitted it over my black faux-leather pants. Ben crawled on all fours, without thinking, hungrily watching as I fastened the buckle and bounced it theatrically around for him.
“You look like a very excited dog right now.”
“I am Mistress!”
“I wonder what you’re thinking about right now…”
Ben licked his lips then tried to look away, suddenly shy.
“Let me help you articulate, then, Ben.”
I walked behind him with the strap-on, towering over him as he wiggled his ass hungrily, growing more aroused with every moment of anticipation.
“I imagine you are thinking what it would be like if I lubed you up as I did the other night, teased your balls with this giant cock of mine, rolling it softly up and down the inside of your thighs as you release any resistance to the idea of what I am going to do to you.”
Ben let out a low groan as his breathing quickened.
“And then perhaps that I might tease the tip of it back up your thigh, past your balls and over that tender skin up to your ass, pushing it against that pink little rose until you ask – you beg, you cry – for me to drive it deep into you.
“Yes… yes Mistress…”
I smiled as Ben’s hips took on a life of their own. He might have been a dog, except that without a tail he showed his excitement in the rapid jerks of his eager cheeks, licking his dry lips, mouth breathing.
“And then maybe you’d imagine me taking you by the hips, digging my fingernails into the sides of them, that soft flesh, and using them to ram myself in and out – in and out – until you scream with pain and terror and pleasure. Imagine the sounds you’d hear, between the slickness of that lube and the resistance of your ass giving in to the pressure of me using and debasing you for my pleasure.”
Ben looked beside himself in arousal, body writhing close to the ground as he panted. I gave him a sharp slap to the side of the face.
“Did I tell you to be on all fours?”
“Mistress! Sorry Mistress!”
Ben got up to his knees, straight backed and staring apologetically at me. The cock cage looked a little more snug now, red flesh bulging out of the sides of the metal, giving his cock the look of hung salami.
“As always you are thinking of yourself first. But as I told you before – women come first, always. I understand. You’re hungry, aren’t you Ben?”
“Oh yes, Mistress!”
“I’m going to give you something that should satisfy that need, because I am very good to you – aren’t I, Ben?”
“Oh yes, Mistress. Thank you Mistress!”
I walked around to face him, positioning myself so the tip of the phallus teased his lips.
Ben opened his mouth, looking a little unconvinced.
“Oh don’t pout like that. What’s wrong now?”
“It’s just that… I’ve never…”
“Is that it? Really Ben, you sucked my toe earlier, and I know you can work a banana like a pro. This is the same – just think of it as a… a bigger banana.”
(Same same – but different)
Ben opened his mouth. I prized it open a little more with my hands, then slid half of the cock into his receptive wetness, rocking gently backwards and forwards as he got to grips with taking it. At first his attempt was meagre, but he soon got into the spirit of things.
“That’s it! Oh you’re a good little cock sucker aren’t you? Maybe you could make a career out of this. Oh… so hungry. Would you like me to give you more?”
Ben gave a muffled moan of what I took for approval between slurps, and I clutched two handfuls of hair and started to drive further into his mouth, exploring the back of his tongue, his throat. He gagged. I stopped for a moment, then resumed my thrusting.
Gluk gluk gluk!
His mouth began to foam with saliva, his nostrils working furiously to maintain the oxygen level as I increased the pace and depth. He really was quite exceptional at the task. The amount of devotion to a task that a few days ago, I couldn’t imagine he’d ever have contemplated doing in his life.
Gluk gluk gluk!
After ten minutes of this I had quite tired myself out. I drove the cock a final time as far into his mouth until he started to gag, held it there for a few moments, watching his toes wiggle and stretch as he struggled to hang on. When I drew back, a foam of drool splashed to the floor, Ben’s tongue still undulating against his teeth, mouth agog.
“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, Ben. I will see you tomorrow. We have more work to do. Perhaps lunchtime – your treat of course.”
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.
“I uh… I want to apologize…”
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.”
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. 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.”
“Settle down. I was only going to shave you.”
“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?”
“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.”
“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.
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?”
“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.”
“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.
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.