Mistress Mistress Part 2

Mimi ON Feb 06, 2009 AT 1:39 pm

Mistress MistressNow for the unusual. I will choose one example to satisfy your curiosity.

“Mistress, can you please wear yellow flip-flops with gym shorts and a tank top. I also would like you to put on some Coppertone suntan lotion. I will have a Frisbee and a plastic toy gun. Can you pretend to play Frisbee with your imaginary dog? I will then jump out from behind this imaginary tree and shoot you, at which point you fall over dead. Is that ok with you Mistress?”

It was so odd I was happy to go along with it. I had to see how this was going to play out and I longed to solve the equation of this turn-on. Each time I saw this client the scenario changed a bit but always involved the same wardrobe and me meeting my demise. Over and over I would dramatically perish and he would quietly lurk behind chairs or corners eyeing my pitiful, lifeless form. He became increasingly specific concerning the stylistic elements of my expiring.  For instance, he would insist that I roll my eyes and stick out my tongue upon being shot, and hold this expression throughout his long and apparently exciting investigation.  If you think you have the will and discipline it takes to become a dominatrix, try to keep from laughing in this situation.  Especially when the client starts whispering to your imaginary dog.  “Now I pray for the souls of the dead,” he hisses to the imaginary dog.  “I am victorious.  I win.  I am the winner.”  You hope he will throw a prayer in for you as you lay there on the floor, your tongue sticking out, tears leaking from your rolled eyes as you try to avoid convulsion. 

He always came armed with interesting props.  Cap guns. Ray guns.  Plastic grenades.  Tiny remote control tanks to which he would attach a lit cigarette which served as a detonator for the balloons he scattered about the floor.  The balloon explosions were meant to cause me great heaving seizures resulting in a slow death.

Really all these props were there to serve as a sort of rodeo clown, distracting my moral compass from his obvious necrophilia.  How could I not find him endearing?

Slaps n Kisses,

Mistress Mistress

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