Monday, February 18, 2008


Am I Evil?


I never even entertained the thought until Sebastian posed the question. I have been accused of being amoral but never immoral or evil. Maybe willful, self centered... but who is not unless you have no ego? Blessed is the annihilation of the self. For some anyway. They want to rid themselves of the numbing fetters of every day life. If I can do that for them-TO them, does it make me evil? I thought of myself as a liberator of repression.

"Do you feel as though you may be taking advantage of a type of mental illness?" asked Sebastian. We were sitting around my kitchen table, sipping coffee in our pajamas. Sebastian was impeccable in a pair of pale blue Brooks Brothers PJ's, his lank blond hair hanging foppishly over one instigative eye. I was wearing a white wife beater t-shirt and a pair of Sebastian's boxers as I had delayed in doing laundry. At this point in my story, I had not yet acquired a house slave. Something I would highly recommend. Believe me, they are out there. These people have a calling and they need the world to recognize their gifts.

"No." I answered shortly, not being a morning person. Sebastian was and so he pressed on.

"It's just the pin session...it sounded so extreme." His voice trailed off as he looked at me slyly.

"Are you bored"? I asked idly as I turned the pages of "BUST" magazine. The kitchen was filled with the buttery smell of breakfast and sunlight. It was dreadful. We both had hangovers. So much for the myth that expensive champagne does not cause headaches. A gift from Boris.

"Not at all. The day has just started. Really, I want to know, do you feel as though this job has changed you"?

"To soon for that. I haven't immersed myself completely yet. I am a work in progress. It hasn't changed me, but it is beginning to change my perception of things." I sipped my black coffee and leaned back in the chair.

"Such as"? Sebastian asked politely.

"It has made me very aware of the duplicity of men. And I mean that as a particular discredit toward your sex. They have a completely different side to them, that their families know nothing about. A whole construct is dedicated around what ever their particular scene is. It is one of the things that I find so fascinating about this job".

"Yeah, yeah, men are pigs, but how did you FEEL when you drove the needles into that guy's nipples?" He had the watchful greediness of the Paparazzi. His unwholesome curiosity was making me uncomfortable.

"It was hard to do. At first." I answered finally. "I was freaked out and I had a difficult time holding the needle. But then I got the hang of it and let my mind go blank. A part of me felt very detached but I was observing everything closely. Then I never thought of it again. Until now." I shrugged. I knew what he wanted to ask me. Was I turned on sexually. So I made it easy for him.

"No it does not turn me on sexually. I am very caught up with my effect on them and their reactions. I seem to be limited only by my own imagination when it comes to fucking with the submissives. The things they allow...Maybe I just have not met the right one." I looked up at him and grinned. "I am not evil. I am a catalyst for change, like a deviant life coach".

Sebastian laughed and glanced at the kitchen clock.

"Say, isn't Sissy coming soon? What time are the pedicures"?

"He should be here in about an hour and a half. I'm going to shower and get ready. Now remember, he likes to be verbally taunted. His fantasy is extremely detailed and scripted. I printed out a copy of his notes so you can review them."

"I'm reviewing a copy of Sissy Maid's jerk off script?" Sebastian scoffed and tossed his head, his hair slipping around expensively.

"Don't scoff. Sissy is dead serious. He has an extensive domestic wardrobe with at least ten change of outfits. He is expert in giving manicures and pedicures. He is going to start us off by placing our feet in tubs of warm wax. Then we get a pedicure, in between him cleaning the bathroom and kitchen. He is even going to wash the floor and vacuum."

"My god. Where can I get one"? Sebastien was suitably awed.

"If things work out, I'll loan him to you. Now remember,when you get out of the shower, leave your towels on the floor. I bet he will love that"

See? I do care.

Friday, February 08, 2008


An Excellent View

I went back to observing Mr.HaHa thru the peep hole. He was hunched into a ball, his arms clasped around his knees, like a modest Victorian maiden. He kept looking over his shoulder while he knocked rapidly at the door. The novelty had worn off already and so I let him in. I unlocked the door and he looked up, his face awash with relief and chocolate. I laughed out loud and told him to come in and clean up, but to leave the bouquet intact.

Once he was done, I guided him over to the windowsill and had him climb up onto it, still naked. He fidgeted nervously, his eyes rolling in his head like an unbroken horse. To calm him, like a horse, I put a pillow case over his head and told him to turn and face the city skyline. I secured his hands behind his back with his own belt. Just then room service arrived with a sharp rap at the door. Mr .HaHa flinched and crouched half way down in the fetus like fashion he seemed to favor, as I went and answered the door. I behaved nonchalantly and the waiter, being a consummate pro like myself, took my lead. He did not even take a second look at Mr. Ha Ha who was cringing with a pillow case over his head, hands tied behind his and the flowers still gamely in place. The waiter set up my table and with a flourish, removed the silver dome cover and revealed the cake that I had such a craving for. I gave him a handsome tip and bid him adieu.

As I ate my cake and sipped at my glass of frothy, cold milk, I had Mr. Ha Ha stand up and face the city. I undid his hands and told him to begin stroking himself in plain view of anyone who happened to glance up at the hotel. And there were quite a few who did a double take. One Asian couple ( Tourist, I assumed) paused and laughingly and took a photo. I narrated the pedestrian's reactions to Mr.Ha Ha who was at this point, breathing heavily and visibly excited. Before I got him in any real trouble, I told him to finish himself off as I finished my snack-I wanted to time it just so. He exploded all over the pristine window as I swallowed my last drop of milk. I daintily wiped my lips and helped him down from the sill. I told him to keep the pillow case on until I let myself out of the room. I collected my tribute, kissed him on the top of his covered head and made my exit.

In the cab, on the way home, I dialed McFee-or Fee as her friend's called her. Although she didn't have friends, as much as she had clients, associates and admirers. Let me tell you a little about Fee.

Unlike most people, who I can figure out in about ten minutes, she remains inscrutable. She is perhaps, one of the most effortlessly beautiful woman I have ever seen. Picture a tiny, darker version of Angelina Jolie with a scowl. Fee is also one of the most disagreeable people I have ever met,virtually silent and devoid of any charm what so ever. She speaks mostly in monosyllables, like an mafioso bookie, has no original observations, has no humor, no pets, no family and visibly loathes children. She seldom wears make up, jewelry (although she only owns the good stuff which she hoards-I just know it) or perfume. I have never seen her eat or drink. I have known her for six years. She is one of the few people that I tell all to, because she never gossips as she seldom speaks. It is like confessing to an animal. I was in her apartment once and the only thing she had in it was a bed on the floor. She did have a closet full of outrageously expensive clothing that I have never seen her wear. Knowing her as well as anyone did, I surmised that they were all gifts. She is the cheapest person I have ever met. I worked with her back in the day, when we were both bartending. She is an excellent bartender, never missed a beat and had an unbelievable memory. In fact, when she was not working the cups or blandly breaking hearts, dating famous athletes and Captains Of Industry, she was a semi professional card player. Talk about a poker face...she seemed to need nothing and no one. I envied her complete self possession. She seemed inhuman. I suspected she was a secret millionaire.

As usual, Fee picked up the phone without saying anything.

"Hello? Fee? It's me, Ava" I said tentatively

"Yeah. I know."

"How's life"?

"What do you want?" OK...so much for small talk.

"I just wanted to thank you for introducing me to Mr.HaHa. I had a great session. He was lots of fun and very generous."

More silence.

"Hello? Fee?"

"Yeah"? She said impatiently.

"Um..that's it. I was just calling to thank you. Are you busy?"

"No. I've gotta go." And then she hung up abruptly.

I snapped my phone shut and shrugged. So much for social niceties. Beauty has it's own laws I suppose. Maybe McFee didn't give me the warm and fuzzies, but the thick envelope that I received as payment sure did the trick.

Once I returned home and shed my finery, I checked my e-mail. My in box contained a referral from Little Mary. I was surprised, as I thought we had disliked one another in equal measure. Fetish makes for strange bed fellows. His e-mail read as follows:

Dear Mistress,

I have a close friend who shares my interest. He enjoys nothing more than being a sissy maid to a beautiful Domina, such as yourself. However, his fetish involves serving you at your HOME. He far surpasses me in this area. He is most discreet and I can vouch for his sincerity as well as his domestic skills. He eagerly awaits hearing from you.

The thought of having someone come in to clean my apartment from top to bottom, was most tempting. I hesitated for only a moment, then dashed off a quick note, urging Little Mary to pass on my contact information to "Sissy". I do my best to avoid all physical labor and so I embraced this opportunity fully.

I shut off the light and curled up in my bed. In a moment I was joined by Monti, his purring close to my ear. We slept.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008


Have Your Cake And Eat It Too.


I met Mr.Ha Ha at The Copley, in The Oak Room. Best raw bar in town. He was already waiting for me, along with the raw sampler I had requested and a Grey Goose on ice with freshly ground pepper and lemon. I was wearing my smartest early 1980's black Norma Kamali two piece suit-very fitted and 40's girl detective. Shiny, licorice black peek a boo pumps, black stockings with a seam up the back and a long strand of black pearls. Damn I looked good. I floated in on my customary cloud of Joy and quickly adjusted the yellow daffodil that I had pinned to my hair, as I paused in the doorway. I saw a man rise from a table at the back. I was to vain to wear my glasses and too careless for contacts so I had no idea what he looked like until I was almost on top of him. Not that I wouldn't have minded. Once I had him in focus I could see he was uncommonly attractive in a dapper, calculated fashion. We were a matched set! He smiled in a wry kind of way and drew out my chair.

Mr. HaHa was a comedy writer for a very well known, almost cult like show. He was a private referral and had been passed onto to me by a super high end "Professional Girlfriend" named Fee. Mr. HaHa was one of her steadies but she flipped him over to me because he liked to mix it up on occasion. He spread his fingers and made an expansive gesture with his hands toward the sumptuous spread. I took to him immediately. I knew I was being charmed and I liked it very much. I dug in with relish and he watched me with obvious enjoyment as I tongued the oysters out of their salty beds.

The first half of the evening went by quickly, in the way that it does when you are having an uncommonly good time. Mr. Ha Ha told wonderful stories of Hollywood insider observations, snide and hilarious tales of egos and vicious grudges. It seemed the Kings and Queens of comedy were not so funny when they were off camera. He made them out to be a competitive lot, with a no rest for the weary, dreary Yankee work ethic.

I found myself flirting with Mr. HaHa when I should have been slowly turning up the Dominant Power. I sensed he knew this,as he was a little to playful. Bordering on disrespectful. As our waiter walked by, I abruptly waved him down. He sidled up to the table, hunched shouldered and timid. Christ, I thought, another submissive. I asked for the check, glanced at it and slid it toward Mr. HaHa without looking at him. He paid while I took the elevator up alone, so I could be in the room ahead of him.

My challenge was to create a scene only with what was on hand at the Copley. I arrived with no props and I was to remain fully dressed. As I walked down the elegant hallway to his room, I noticed a tray that had been left outside a door for room service. On it was a huge slice of beautiful chocolate cake, hardly touched. There was also a small white vase filled with a handful of daisy's. I bent down and took it. As soon as Mr.Ha Ha entered the room, I dimmed the lights and ordered him to strip and to bend over the arm of the big over stuffed chair.

He seemed a bit taken aback and his easy smile faltered for a moment but he did as I asked. I took a towel and held it under the bath tub spigot until it was almost sopping-then I twisted it semi dry. I wound it up tightly as any sexually repressed homosexual athlete in the locker room could do, and bought it down with a resounding crack across his ass. I did it again and again, until red welts were rising up on his buttocks like a tequila sun rise. He stalwartly withstood it all, legs braced and his head hanging. Finally, I could lift my arm no more.

Instead, I turned my attention to the vase of mixed daisies and chuckled to myself. I told him to hold his cheeks open. He did so while glancing over his shoulder at me and biting his lower lip. I took one daisy and probed until it slid into his ass. I did it with a second, then a third. I did not stop until he had a blooming bouquet of flowers, in a festive burst, clenched between his cheeks. I was delighted and I told him so. I walked over to the door and held it wide open after I made a great show of checking the area to make sure it was empty. I told him to crawl out into the hotel hallway. He scrambled eagerly toward his own self destructive tendencies as I pointed him toward the slab on chocolate cake, still on the floor on a tray. I strode behind him and used my new trick of shoving a head into food. I had taken Mr.Ha Ha's devastatingly appealing face and ground it deep into the desert until his nostrils must have been filled.

While he was collecting himself and wiping cake from his eyes, I almost skipped back to the room. I turned and saw Mr. Ha Ha' stricken expression so before I closed the door on the poor bastard and locked him out, I blew him a kiss.

"Good night"!

I shut the door and pressed my back against it and cackled wildly. Seldom have I seen anything so ridiculous-his image was stenciled into my mind. A fit naked man,his face a mask of cake,contorted with horror,his back a testimony to kink and his ass stuffed with wild flowers.

In a New York minute, he was scratching at the door and whispering frantically. At this point Mr.Ha Ha was trying to rein in his rising hysteria. I watched him silently through the peep hole and I was elated because I knew I was making him feel something-an extreme of emotion.

"Mistress, Mistress please let me in! Mistress please!" he kept hissing over and over. Instead of answering him, I dialed room service and loudly placed an order for a piece of that excellent chocolate cake and a glass of cold milk. Mr. Ha Ha began slapping the door with the flat of his hand in earnest and his begging escalated.

It was just a fear of discovery and public humiliation. He would get over it.