“Are You All Mine?” The Tactics of a Professional Seductress

Sitting on my Virgin America airplane ride on my third work trip to New York. I always enjoy it when people ask me why I’m going to New York. I always reply with the simple words,

“To work.”

And then they ask “What do you do?

“I’m a dominatrix.” I’ve started to embrace this term more and more.

Yes I am going to New York to get paid; to get paid for my powers to deeply seduce men into submission. I have never had so much fun in my life as I’ve had in this work.

I wasn’t sure that I could do this, welcome strangers into my tiny rented studios, and be the glamorous girl in my ad; to live up to the expectation to put them under my spell where they completely release into euphoria. To make men behave and do as they’re told. But two weeks and many clients later, I think I’ve succeeded.

The Empire State Building was lit up in the colors of the Lust Angel; Lauviah’s favorite color; a luminous fuscia pink, that made the tip of the building look like a glowing neon tit. It turned the entire city into a Freudian euphemism of desire; we all yearned to suck on our mother’s tit. We all yearned for romance; that special someone to wine and dine. I, on the other hand wasn’t looking for that someone to fulfill that need; I am just more in the spirit of love, of being the Romancer. I, in the demeanor of the Angel of Lust herself, acted to be the object of desire for all those unfulfilled and hungry sexual desires which are attached to men’s groins. Yes I could just say cock…but anyone can please a cock. I aim to romance a man, seduce him completely, to have him quivering in my presence.

My second client in NY was George, a traveling businessman from Illinois. He seemed normal on the phone, and thought he was just coming in for a 90 minute massage. If only he knew when he called me he would be helpless in my presence. He was the perfect subject for all of my weapons of seduction.

George arrived on time, in a tan jacket, business suit and suitcase. After walking in my door and meeting eyes, he was under the enchanting powers of his mistress. With knees buckling beneath him, I embraced his 5 foot 9 inch and built frame. George was in great shape; every inch of him was muscle. Yet he was completely helpless against me. A sensual sadist, I greatly enjoy this sexual power exchange.

We moved to the bedroom, and now he was just down to his business shirt and pants, his shoes removed. My hands instinctively reached for the back of his neck, and I felt like how a cat grabs a cub; once he was in my grip, he might as well have been a 2 pound kitten; every single muscle in his body loosened up, and he collapsed onto the bed.

This was going to be fun. Rarely do I find someone who is in complete submission so immediately, who is utterly and completely mine, and now all I have to do is play him like Bach or Beethoven plays the piano; depending on my mood in the moment. George received my complete artistry, and wasn’t playing a role; the best seductions are authentic; we aren’t acting, and he couldn’t reverse his emotions if he tried.

The rest of the scene involved slowly unbuttoning his business shirt, one button at a time. After removing the shirt, I enjoy testing the nipples to see how sensitive they are; biting, sucking, slapping. I command my submissive into complete stillness, creating an energetic bondage, imaginary ropes, and if my subject moves their hands or touches their cock without permission they are punished; usually with a little strap of leather called the “slut slapper” a surprisingly simple yet effective tool which doesn’t require much skill and removes any room for error in the aim of the blow.

Another tactic of this love Mistress (I enjoy more contact than most Dommes) is to pin my subject down with my body. So with my knees pressing into his shoulders, pussy hovering above his mouth, teasing his face, spitting in his mouth, then reaching around and tapping his cock. Asking questions like

“Are you all mine, George?”

“Yes Mistress”

“Is your body mine?”

“Yes Mistress”

“Is your heart mine?”

“Yes Mistress it’s all yours.”

“Is your cock mine?”

“Yes you can do anything you want with me, use me any way you please.”

Most men want to be used as my pleasure toy. Rarely do I take full advantage of the situation because just the temptation of fucking me alone often holds much more power than satisfying their every desire; I always want to leave them wanting more.

After digging my hands into George, slapping him thoroughly and testing his pain threshold, I stood him up, business pants at his ankles, and pulled down his boxer shorts. I love the slight humiliation of pulling down their underpants and not completely undressing them all the way; the awkwardness makes them feel insecure and helpless.

His firm and round ass facing me, his hands are on the massage table, his body once again an offering to my pleasure tactics. The palms of my hands swing to make contact with his firm buttocks. I slap him until he’s red, his body shaking, his psyche reduced. Yes part of BDSM is a power exchange; he agrees to give me the seat of control, and through this increased weakness, this helpless state of service to my pleasure, a good submissive will fall into a state of surrender, similar to a feeling of lightly falling, which becomes deeply Euphoric; there are no thoughts, only sensation, mostly the sensation of pleasure and a heightened state of awareness.

After giving him a good slap around, I tell George that I must feel what it’s like to be inside him. I don’t believe that he’s been penetrated in the ass before, but I wanted him to KNOW viscerally that when my finger is deep inside me, how completely mine he was.

Gloves on, lubed up, I tease and titillate the outside of his anus to warm up to the ever so slow and slightest pressure inside his anus. He quivers and shakes, squirms. I go in deeper, exploring more of this unexposed part of him. Nothing is more satisfying as a Domme than to have a man in this way; if I had a cock, it would be fucking him in the ass, but since my finger is the closet penetrative object with nerve endings , it is the next best thing. I feel his warm, orgasmic pulsating insides. The experience isn’t completely pleasurable to him; it’s slightly awkward and painful. I coax my finger slowly in and out with a “come hither” motion, similar to how a man would coax a woman’s G-spot.  With his ass facing me, I have to turn my finger downward facing to make adequate contact with his Prostate. I don’t have a prostate, but according to Yogic anatomy of the body, this point is the “X marks the spot” of the pleasure response super energetic highway. There are 72,000 Nadis or energetic pathways in the body, your Central Channel in the spinal column being the major one. When stimulated properly, the Prostate has the potential to open up all of these channels. I coax him into his sweet spot, he’s writhing in orgasmic pleasure, while my other hands reach around and pulls at his cock. Slap, pull, push, penetrate. He’s blissfully helpless against me.

I can’t exactly recall how I finished him off, how long the teasing went on, nor how long I prolonged his experience. But one thing is for sure, that when he did finally come, I told him to give it to me. That I wanted it, that his cum juice was mine. All mine. Give it to me. That it was a sign of his devotion to his Mistress, a signal of how much he desires me and wants to please me.

This wasn’t quite enough for him. George needed and wanted more. I took him to the shower, still not allowing him to touch me. Bowing down before me in the water, the drops running down my naked frame, his mouth at a perfect height to lick my perfect flower.  

I still don’t let him have it. He must jerk off bowing down before me staring at my pussy lips. So close, dangling the crown jewel before him in the shower while he agonizingly strokes himself off again.

George is in love with me. The spell was never broken since he walked in the door. He doesn’t want to leave, but I can’t hang out with him all day.

He dries himself off, reluctantly gets dressed and asks me,

“When am I going to see you again?”

The honest answer to this question is probably never. He lives in Illinois, I live in California and his work only takes him to the East Coast. I suppose peak experiences can’t happen every day. I give George a heartfelt hug good-bye and this businessman is sent back out into the world.