Whenever I find myself in despair over the morality of my career I look at men and think of the horrible advantage they have had over women for the past few thousand years or so and it returns the joy I feel each time I have a working encounter.
Some women think I'm just you're average Plain Jane whore, looking for a rich Japanese salary man to get my quota of tricks for the evening, but that's not right.
My official title is Mistress Lola. I find that it suits my much better than the name my parents gave me back in Kansas, of course that seems so long ago I can hardly remember it.
But it's better to think of other things, things that are much more pleasurable. I've been in Tokyo almost three years now and I love it. I feel at home here, in a land of hidden acceptable perversions behind every paper screen and under every tatami mat. Because that is how I see myself an acceptable and beautiful perversion.
My true passion is to tie up the especially dominate business men that order my services. Lucky for me tonight is my favorite night of the month, the night when Slave K. comes to me for his punishment and eventual fulfillment. I am to meet him at a tiny love hotel in Roppongi, with a special room to fit our needs we can rent by the hour.
I dress myself carefully after arriving, starting by lacing my leather corset so tight I can hardly breathe. I love the feel of the stiff stays pressed in to my skin, they appeal to my often ignored submissive side. The taut, cold, black leather presses my normally petite breasts into an overflowing valley at the top of the corset. The lotion I recently rubbed into them to glisten slightly in the dim lights of the small room. I cannot help but run my hand gently over the top of them. Even knowing that I am no where close to finished dressing I feel a beginning shudder of the passion only a woman can give herself and am tempted to start without him, but I know the evening ahead is worth the short wait.
When I finished sliding my red silk thong panties between my thighs I felt the familiar wetness when the fabric settled against my nether lips, which I shaved bare this morning. I quickly finished dressing, adding my black silk thigh highs, and placing my black mask over the upper half of my face and of course my black stiletto boots, that clung to my calves so tightly, they look as if they may be painted on.
Just as I finished I head the sudden knock at the door, and rushed to open it to him. When I saw him standing just in front of me, staring up at me, as I was a few inches taller than him in my stilettos, many thoughts began to run through my mind. I wondered if what I was doing would ever be acceptable with someone I love, and then I could find a more, traditional job and perhaps get married; of course I know the answer to this, which is a resounding no. Here in this tiny room, where no on expects anything more than what will happen, I know this is how it should be, at least for me. A planned Secret rendezvous, a discreet envelope exchange, followed by a wonderful encounter for bother parties, never to be discussed in the light of day. I can not accept myself this way in the light of day so it's best to reserve my passions for the cover of forbidden nights.
K slides his way into the room and quickly removes all his clothes and stand perfectly still awaiting my attentions. I know his secret desires as he knows that I long to fulfill them, it is the perfect relationship. I began to walk toward him and my excitement reaches a fever pitch.
