famous last words...

Despite my cries of ‘never again!’ there I was, up to the elbow in arseholes, making a living. Oh, the shame. I exaggerate. But, after a request from a client that I haven’t seen for some time, I was lured back to work. It was unavoidable. Winter in London is fairly unbearable with the gas cut off and I need to save up for flights home. Reality is a painful thing, sometimes. I didn’t play in my own space, but returned to a dungeon that I’d spent six months renting by the hour until last year. I have a house guest at the moment. In any case, I did find the experience reassuring. I had the chance to check out the competition and although nobody wants to tell me that business isn’t booming – yes, Mistresses lie to each other far more than they lie to their clients – I could see that we were all in the same boat. In fact, maybe I was in a slightly better boat. It’s also easy to start believing the hype about colleagues when the only way you view them is via their heavily touched up pics one their websites. Oh, what a relief: they are normal people, after all.

In order to make my visit more worth while, I dragged in another client who I’ve been seeing for several years. He’s an obnoxious little toad, bless him. So much so, that I didn’t care for his tone when he first called me and almost refused him. However, it soon became apparent that his obnoxious act was all a front. He’s one of those ones who have to be pushed into everything. Except this one has to be generally pushed. It’s not like that fat man who wanted to be dressed in plastic bags while he half heartedly wailed ‘Oh no, Mistress, please, not the plastic bag’, before prematurely creaming in the bag. This guy seems generally offended when he comes to, post orgasm, covered in piss. I told him not to cry last night. At some point, he was visiting while a had a slave scrubbing the kitchen. This querulous request came out: could I have the slave come on his face. Sure, I cried. Unfortunately, the slave couldn’t perform and we all went home disappointed. Another time, I found a very enthusiastic young man online who was very well endowed and achieved his task with gusto – albeit without accuracy. I thought the experience had traumatized my client, although I found the whole experience very amusing. But, he kept on coming back, complaining the whole way.

So. Last night, I decided to re enact these past experiences, I employed a strap on and a pump action bottle of lube for the ‘money shot’. At least I was accurate. He got a shot of lube right in the eye. I’d been reading Martin Amis and had to admit that my words and actions were influenced by what I had read. I must have been a bit excited after my absence from the dungeon. This was apparent from the FILTH that was coming out of my mouth. My mother would have washed my mouth out with soap. Nothing could stop me. I think he had a great time…Him and his befurred little body.