I love it when my sweet sexy friends turn me on to porn! A submissive girlfriend of mine sent me several titillating links to videos on YouPorn.com. Very nice. . .
I headed downtown yesterday to meet up with Ava Noir at the Four Seasons. We took our time grabbing a bite to eat and chatting in the lounge before heading up to the suite where her slave was being held captive, "forced" to watch porn until her return. We spanked him and treated him like a slut while he tried to impress us with Japanese phrases he'd learned on a recent trip to Tokyo, like "I have a big cock." We just laughed and Ava told him to be quiet as she wrapped him in a cellophane thong. It was good dirty fun, but we had to cut it short since Ava had a masseuse arriving shortly to give her a backrub in the room. We moved her slave to the closet and I said my good-byes, an extra spring in my step as I made my way through the lobby.
I was at a party over the weekend and got to talking to a friend of a friend. "Sorry if I was a little uptight when I arrived," I said after I'd loosened up with a few drinks, "There was this situation that I couldn't get out of my mind, but I feel so much better now."
"Are you talking about a client?" the woman asked. We were standing apart from the rest of the revelers and she spoke in a slightly hushed voice. I stood there looking at her, dumbfounded for a second, not wanting to blow my cover. I don't exactly advertise among my social circle that I'm a dominatrix. She looked around, then said "Nobody knows here. But you know I've done escorting, right?" I nodded as the memory of a previous liquor-soaked confession came into focus. She talked for several minutes about how the business messed with her head, how before she did it she felt more sexually bold and free but nowadays she gets uncomfortable when a guy begins to express an interest in her sexually, worrying that that's the only thing he sees in her. It sounded like she needed a transitional "let's just hug" relationship to help her heal. As the conversation winded down, she said, "Look if your situation needs a little extra oomph, I'd be down to double anytime." "Really?" I asked, half incredulous that after telling me her sob story, she was offering up her services. "Like tomorrow?" I said, knowing I wouldn't take her up on it. "Yeah, I could do tomorrow," she said, a little fire lighting up in the corner of her eyes. I could have shaken her, told her "Snap out of it! You just finished law school. You've gotta pass the bar. Move on!" But well, that's not my style. Ah who knows, some urges seem to need to run their course.
Between working at dotcoms and starting the pro domme gig, I had worked as the personal assistant to a wealthy Chinese businessman and nightclub owner. He was a maniac, my first day of work he was on the phone with a tabloid leaking information about his Hollywood celebrity father-in-law who he was in a legal battle with over his mother's estate. In his luxury apartment on top of Nob Hill, he'd smoke speed out of a broken lightbulb - during meetings with straight-laced business associates! I would arrive in the morning to find evidence of the previous night's debauchery, often including pictures of strippers I knew from the swinger scene who he paid to come home with him and party. I've fucked that girl in the ass with my strap-on, I'd think as I flipped through the images. The Filipino doormen downstairs always made snide litte remarks insinuating that I was his whore, which completely annoyed me. Of course, my tenure did end when this blonde Asian with fake tits started sleeping with my boss and doing his paperwork, rendering me obsolete. I knew she wouldn't last, but I said my sayonaras and hightailed it to my next adventure. . . and that would lead me to The Gates.