Monday, April 27, 2009

Kylie Wanted to be Choked

I hope everyone's not tired of me telling war stories, cause I am having fun doing it.

I met this girl named Kylie. She was Korean-American, East Coast-born, and not a shy nerdy Asian girl at all. She gave off all the signs of being a sexually-available young woman. She died her long, sikly hair blonde repeatedly, liked to curse and be "one of the guys" and when she smiled, she showed her lower teeth every time. Don't let your submissive housewife Asian stereotypes throw you off; this girl was a typical big-city American slut.

I had a regular girl at the time, hopelessly devoted to the point of annoying me, and a couple of other booty irons in the fire, on the side. I tell you that not to brag, but it's important to the story, because when I met Kylie for our first drinks-date, I was feeling especially cocky. I had abundance mentality that needed no faking. I thought she was hot and definitely wanted to fuck her in her little round ass (God made certain filipino girls and korean girls to please men like me, who love both lovely almond asian eyes and nice, bubble butts at the same time). But I really didn't care. Early in the evening I decided I would drop every chauvinistic, dominant bomb in my inventory, just to see where it went.

Ordinarily, while it's a good idea to project a carefree, dominant personality, taking it over the top with the ultra-lib 20-something women in NYC is a bad idea. They are so invested in their worldview that they will walk even while they feel their pussies creaming. You can act like an asshole, but if you are too explicit about your alpha-male worldview, the girl's SWPL liberal defenses kick in full tilt. The cognitive dissonance is too high, and if she's hot her market value is high enough that she can certainly afford to reject a lone asshole to keep her self-image intact. Small doses of asshole go a long way with these women.

But like I said, I was feeling especially playful that night, so I really let Kylie have it. I joked and drank and had fun of course. But I also stared her down so hard she got visibly uncomfortable. I let it slip in the course of telling a story that I was in some other girl's apartment (note: never seem to be bragging when doing this... it must flow easily into the conversation and you must quickly move on).

"So what are you doing here with me, if you already have a girlfriend?" she challenged, shooting me a bratty look.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't exactly call her my girlfriend. But to answer your question, I don't feel the need to limit myself to one woman."

"Oh really?"

"Really... though I certainly hope you aren't seeing anyone else."

"Well, I'm not, but..." She looked astonished, but she couldn't hide a smile. "So wait... you can see other people but I can't?"

"That's right," I said and smiled at her. "Sucks, huh?"

"That's a double standard."

"You know what? You're right!" I smiled and congratulated her for being so smart. "That's the way God made men and women. That's the way it has to be. I don't date women who see other men. I can see other people, but you can't."

She was really incredulous, but I saw a flame of lust flickering in her eye. Flash forward a few drinks and another bar. The bartender was telling us what a cute couple we were. We played my favorite date-enhancing game, Big Buck Hunter. [Side note: I realize I mentioned this one in my last post. It's really a coincidence, but not that surprising. If there's a Big Buck Hunter game in the bar, you should always make your date play it. Get that big gun in her hands, get her fingers squeezing it. Get her laughing. Mercilessly beat her at the game, lightly mock her inability to avoid shooting the cows... "No! That's a girl! Don't hurt the girls! Only the big, bad males." Let her laugh and make excuses; let her try to mess you up by bumping into you while you shoot... this shit was made specifically to get girls into a flirtatious, sexual mindset. You're welcome.] Kylie was snaking her little lithe body into me, big ass rubbing on me as we laughed and played. We made out outside the bar and I sent her on her merry way. The night wasn't right for getting laid just yet, but I was confident I had laid the proper groundwork.

I won't bore you with the details of our second date, but after more drinks and asshole flirting we ended up back at my place. Kylie was a little fucking demon in the sack. The rougher I got, the more she responded. Again, feeling that infinite mastery that comes with not really needing a girl, I cut loose and really started treating her like a little whore. She loved it. I spanked her, pulled her hair. Late at night, taking a breather from our romp, she looked at me very seriously and said she wanted me to be even rougher with her in the future. She wanted me to hit her in the face, call her every horrible name I could come up with, treat her with vile contempt. She said I should choke her while I came in her face. Serious porno stuff. I smiled and said that could be arranged. Choking a bitch is not really my thing, but it has it's appeal.

She also told me something I didn't recall this until a little later in the following day. She told me she had worked as a professional dominatrix. Now she was in the corporate world, but she had spent two years in and out of college dressing up in black leather and kicking mewling corporate titans in the balls and making them pay hundreds of dollars for the privelege. She claimed she never had sex with them, technically, but you get the idea. It was a service she worked for, with safety checks, all very professional and clean. But still... a dominatrix.

Of course I find it funny and not all that surprising that a girl who did that kind of job wanted to be treated like shit, beaten even. Normally that's not my thing, and I never went there all the way with Kylie (maybe that was my mistake, but whatever), though I was certainly rougher with her than I normally am. We hung out and slept together maybe 6 or 7 times over the course of a few weeks. One night, at her apartment, she even dug out some old newspapers and showed me the ads in the back with her picture, all gussied up like some sort of kinky girl-gladiator, with big letters touting the expert services of "Mistress Sapphire."

But piggy-backing on 11minutes' last post, I noticed a change came over Kylie when I hinted (and it was only a hint) that I might trade in my regular girl and make her my regular thing. I've never seen a girl flip so fast. In the space of a week, she turned into the craziest bitch I've ever encountered. She stole my watch, sent me hateful, threatening texts when I tried to get it back, and generally disappeared. I admit I wasn't done hitting that ass, and I was a little disappointed to see her go. I kind of like crazy bitches. I like life to be spicy, and here was a whole fucking bushel of jalapeños wrapped up in one little spicy serving of kimchee.

I don't expect to date that many more ex-dominatrices (especially ones still in their early 20s.... most washed up sex-workers are quite older, or else they wouldn't be "ex" sex-workers but rather still plying their whorish trade). And I can't say I cried over losing such a psycho. But girls like Kylie are a fun challenge. They are so hyper-sexualized, so incredibly horny all the time, so imbalanced, that it's like the ultimate test of your game. I didn't know it at the time, but my initial, carefree willingness to be a complete chauvinist dick was what allowed her to show me her nasty, nasty side. With another girl it might have backfired mightily. But with Kylie it was pure catnip; it was what she really wanted. And the slightest deviation from that asshole script — the slightest hint that I might value her person — was enough to flip her from sex-toy to psychotic bitch. She craved contempt. I'm sure it would have happened eventually no matter what I did, but I made a vow that, next time I found a similar girl, I would see how long I could keep the asshole flag flying. After a girl like Kylie, your typical conflicted, confused American girl seems like a piece of cake. I've been with highly sexual girls since, of course, but no one quite as bat-shit insane as her.

I wish I got my watch back, though. I loved that watch. Crazy bitch.


  1. I don't feel the need to limit myself to one woman.and,

    "I have a few great women in my life right now, and don't feel like sending them away"

    Both are good lines.

    Non judgemental, open, and unattainable.

    Like 11 says and you agree, the switch of lover-provider is an interesting one to see.

    How fast it can come, and how devastating it can be, to

    - Make the girl see you as provider, i.e. now pay for sex and company,

    - See how cheated they will feel once you have shown you actually are not nonjudgemental, you are not one of the men who "don't count"

  2. that's how it goes. girls like that are the penultimate test of your game. that's why i nailed the 3 strippers in a row. once i could pull one from the club, blow them off/not answer calls, have them hound me for days on end: I knew that I had graduated to an altogether separate plane of game that some guys will never reach/understand while they masturbate at home with their tears as lubricant and whimper like a pansy.
    Eventually, you grow weary of seeing how far you can take it. Some of those chicks, honestly, seem to have no limit to what they'll tolerate. in the game of life, women are survivors. marathon runners. most men are sprinters.

  3. I saw a Dos Equis ad the other day, "The Most Interesting Man in the World". I actually thought about this blog and its opinions of alpha-male behavior.

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    "Stay thirsty my friends". : )z


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