Journey's end

Every journey comes to an end. I sense that it is the right time to end this one, publicly at least. There are some loose ends but tying them is unlikely to warrant regular posts. I may post occasionally, to let you know what happens to Emily, Kim and, perhaps, even John. I may get the urge to write and tell you about some other toys that I have played with in the past. Or maybe I will decide to chronicle a new journey, or just disappear back into the ether.  To be frank, I have no idea. A week ahead is, for me, what constitutes long-term planning.

So what of the loose ends? Emily has started her new career. She is getting used to the idea that mature men will pay her handsomely for the sort of cruelty that previously got her into so much trouble. Also, being aware of what happened between Kim and John, she has been trying to convince her mother to quit nursing and join 'the business'. Emily has already sounded out a couple of clients about what they might pay for a mother and daughter team; one that can be validated through DNA tests! The answer is: a lot!

I am undecided what to do with Kim. I know that I could destroy her life if I so chose. But to be perfectly honest, I am rather proud my role in helping her to escape the chrysalis of her marriage. This rankles with me because it smacks of weakness or, worse still, feelings. This, in turn, creates a very strong urge within me to snuff out her flickering flame of hope, simply to show that I am not weakening. Or I could just walk away from both mother and daughter. Maybe I'll decide tomorrow.

Liberation

Emily told me that John came home on Sunday morning but that Kim didn't let him in the house. They talked quietly and calmly but on the doorstep. Kim told John that that she needed some space and time to think. John wanted to talk inside but Kim refused.

I called Kim mid-morning, not letting on that I knew what had happened after I left on Saturday. I told her how much I had enjoyed our time together on Saturday and asked whether we could we meet for Sunday lunch. I suggested the pub where we had our first kiss and more. After a bit of hesitation she agreed.

I listened attentively to Kim, sympathising and agreeing with everything she said. Sometimes she would ask me what I thought. I responded, as I usually do, by paraphrasing something that she had said earlier. Inevitably, we got to the point where Kim asked whether I thought she should 'leave' John. I responded by asking her what she thought would make her happiest in the long-term.

And in that that moment she decided. Not an ephemeral, superficial decision. Her face, her body language and her eyes told me that is was deep, visceral, committed decision. My games had now liberated both mother and daughter. It wasn't my plan to do so, because I never had a plan, just some rough ideas, some of which have been realised and others not. Indeed if either or both had fallen pregnant, as I had intended, it may not have been much of a liberation. Such are games with real people as the toys.

Interestingly, Kim never asked me then, during the sex that followed, or even after that, whether she had a future with me. This despite my many mendacious protestations of love, in the past, and her apparently genuine reciprocation. The sex that followed our lunch was raw. I got the sense that she was doing it for herself, not in any needy way, trying to please me, or to ensnare me as a replacement for John. She is no Emily but she has come a very long way from the timorous mouse that I first encountered.

***

On Monday morning, John was suspended from his job. A number of his colleagues had received an email from him. It read as follows:

"You will probably be aware by now that Emily is not my daughter. Now that I know this, I realise what a hot girl she is."

Attached to the email was a picture of Emily in a compromising position with three black guys.

John, of course, denied that he had sent the email, protesting that his account was hacked by someone malicious. He said he had a pretty good idea of who had done it. Alas for John, a subsequent investigation by clever technicians verified that the email originated from his house. Yesterday afternoon, he was fired without notice.

John has only himself to blame. What sort of man is it that invites another man to fuck his wife? What sort of man tells another man of the dark desires he has for his wife? What sort of man is it who revels in his own submission? He has brought this upon himself. I could squash him like a bug beneath my shoe but cannot be bothered to cross the street to do so. I am done with him now.

The appliance of science

A schoolteacher once said that I was unable to express emotions. It wasn't meant as a compliment but I took it as such. Making a decision based on logic is clearly a superior course to one that is clouded by emotions. When I was a young, I used to watch Star Trek re-runs and wanted to emulate Spock. I never understood why his lack of emotion was the punchline for so many, end of episode, jokes. He was so clearly superior to everyone else in the show. It was Kirk that was laughable.

As it happens, the teacher was incorrect. Sadly, I am not like Spock. I do feel emotion. But my emotions tend to be polarised. I feel pleasure and anger, with very little in between. Pleasure is what drives me and anger is what, sometimes, gets me into trouble. 

These days I am good at controlling my anger. I know it gets in the way of getting what I want. Unfortunately, now and then, anger is triggered by a seemingly trivial provocation. When this happens, it seems as if there are two separate instances of me, both existing at the same time. One is doing and one is watching. The instance of me that is watching doesn't feel anger. It observes, detached, watching what the other instance is doing. 'This is not good,' it might say, or, 'this is very, very bad.' But it cannot intervene. The angry instance has to purge its anger through action. This can last for days, with anger building and subsiding in cycles, depending on the perceived responses to that anger. The detached instance just tut-tuts, like a disapproving aunt who foretells that 'this will end badly'.

It was just as well, therefore, that I had to go away for a short period, after my last encounter with John and Kim. I had been deliberately pushing John, so that he would resist but when he did resist I became annoyed. Not very Spock, I know. But yeah, yeah, I have already addressed that. Anyway, had I been around for the next few days, things might have taken a fairly nasty turn. Luckily, the break gave me time for reflection. It also gifted me the divine pleasure of Emily's complicity.

***

Isn't modern science wonderful? One can order a DNA paternity test on-line and get the result within just five days! Most testing services even have an "express service". The tests are not expensive. The cheapest I found was just £50. The most expensive no more than £200. I love the way that what used to be considered exotic technologies are now within the grasp of everyone. Democracy in action. Did you know that Picassa has really good face recognition for free? I have found it very useful.

Anyway, when I told Emily of Kim's suspicion that John was not the father of her and Michael, she was absolutely delighted. She described John as 'weak and ineffectual.' It would make total sense to her, she told me, if it turned out that John wasn't her real father. 

Gathering the material needed for the test was pretty easy, given the games we had been playing. Emily, however, wanted to gather some fresh samples, to ensure that there was no room for doubt. She told me that she came up with a bizarre story about an outbreak of something unusual and infectious at school. She told everyone, including Michael, that she needed saliva samples, so that they could be tested for infection. The school was going to do the testing which was why she was collecting them herself, she said!

It sounds pretty far-fetched to me but Emily is the sort of girl that one often decides to humour rather than challenge. So, if people had doubts then they didn't say. They never considered that Emily might have an ulterior motive. Naive, given that Emily always has an ulterior motive.

Emily decided to go public with the results on Facebook while John was at the rugby on Saturday. At the same time, I was having a romantic interlude with Kim in a nice country hotel. I like to alternate between nice and nasty with Kim, to keep her keen and malleable. I know it is a clichéd tactic but is a cliché for a reason. And of course, it wasn't all champagne. Kim likes it rough as well as tender. I was only too happy to oblige.

As neither Kim nor John are friends of Emily on Facebook, it was only on Saturday night that the news made its way back to John and Kim, via the parents of Emily's school-friends. Emily called me excitedly, to report what had happened. John got back from the rugby having drunk too much. He didn't deal with the news very well. There was apparently lots of shouting and tears, she told me. John had lost control and slapped Kim more than once. As a consequence, Kim completely lost it and, screaming and scratching, she turfed him out of the house. Emily presumes he went to stay with a rugby pal.

"Didn't anyone ask why you posted it publicly?" I asked.

"He was too busy blaming mum, the bastard" she said. "I just played the wronged little girl, acting in a fit of a pique."

Emily paused, and I swear I heard her lick her lips, before she said, "I told mum that I didn't know why she stayed with him. I told her she seemed so much happier since you started seeing someone else."

Career Opportunities

I got back to London sooner than I expected and spent the last couple of days with Emily. It is clear that she isn't toy material. Quite reverse. Despite her young age, she is a skilled manipulator. It is also clear that she lacks empathy and has a cruel streak. I have often wondered whether cruelty is simply a corollary of empathy-deficit or something that exists in its own right. But it matters not, the last couple of days have confirmed that Emily has both of these admirable qualities in spades.

The question that has been preoccupying me has been how to put this knowledge to good use. I know that I will not be able to control her. If I read her correctly, she is likely to lie and break any agreements that we might make, unless her self-interest is served. Given that she is a gorgeous, eighteen year old, she would be a perfect partner to con the gullible and wealthy. But this would involve both of us in criminal enterprises. Nothing wrong with that in itself but my criminally reckless days are behind me. I fear that if I were ever locked up again, I would never get out, for reasons I care not to elaborate on.

So, instead of a criminal partnership, I proposed a different kind of partnership that makes full use of her talents. Over the last couple of days we have worked out the details of a deal that will provide me with a nice income, for the time being, and will make her as rich as she cares to be. At some point, she will no longer need me and will fill her own plate with what I have taught her. Until then, she needs my help, to develop her skills with finesse and find the right sort of people who will appreciate those skills. I will also ensure that she is never at risk. We have agreed to split the proceeds of our partnership fifty-fifty. Either party has the right to dissolve the partnership, without notice. My short-term goal is money and the pleasure of watching her journey. My medium to long-term goal is to know someone who might be able to help me on occasions because I can help them on occasions.

***

On Monday afternoon, I took Emily to club where she had such a good time together. The club only opens in evening, so there was no music nor were there any clubbers. We entered through the back door, avoiding the cleaners and other staff preparing for the evening ahead. I took Emily to the S&M room and secured her to a Saint Andrew's cross and went to work on her. Over a period of what turned out to be about three hours, we explored, together, most of the implements, restraints and other miscellaneous devices that the room had to offer. 

While it gave me great sexual pleasure to hurt her, this was not my primary purpose. My purpose was to educate her. If she is to be a successful dominatrix, she needs to have an appreciation of how it feels for her clients. At school, she has gotten into trouble by taking her cruelty further than needed to achieve her goal. That's fine when one wants to inflict pain solely for the pure pleasure of doing so. But it is not good for repeat business when dealing with clients. Don't get the idea that she will be going easy on them. A genuinely sadistic, gorgeous, eighteen year old girl is rare and commands a very high price ticket. But given her obvious nature, I don't want anyone ending up in hospital by accident. We will continue these education sessions as her career develops and I will accept the side benefits that I get from that education process.

Some readers may find this development far-fetched. If you do, I suggest you enter "professional Mistress London" into Google and see how many links you find. It is literally millions. But these are not links through which you will never find Emily. She is too precious a prize to be advertised on the open market. Men, and yes some women, will hear about her through the efficient networks that service the needs of the very wealthy. And they will pay very handsomely for the pleasure of her company. She need never take her clothes off and need never have sexual contact unless she desires it. She will be a Mistress not a whore.

Eventually, she is likely to marry one of her clients. Someone not that dissimilar to John in their sexual needs. Just just like John, they will be happy to be dominated and will positively encourage their wife to please herself, to the extent of having other men. Unlike John, they will be rich. Top dominatrices have followed this "career progression for centuries. Isherwood wrote about it and those in the know say that such as relationship was the downfall of at least one heir to the English throne. Emily has the potential to go far.

***

Finally, as a gesture of good faith, Emily has agreed to help me with a couple of short-term things, relating to John and Kim. The glint in her eye when I told her what I have in mind would have disturbed some.