Spit on Me, Please (A Fantasy)

Brian re-read the e-mail message from Mistress Katrina again to make sure that he had not forgotten anything. It said:

Dear pussyboy:

Go to the bank today before it closes and withdraw $600 in cash. You need to make sure that you get this cash entirely in $5 bills.
After work, go home, shower & shave. Put on red silk bikini panties, light khaki or cream colored pants, and a plain white dress shirt without an undershirt. Be at the corner of Hudson and Christopher Streets with the cash at precisely 9 pm.

Mistress K

When he received the e-mail that afternoon, Brian had had to run to the bank to get there before it closed. But, he got there in time and was able to withdraw the $600 Mistress Katrina had specified. With the help of several tellers he was able to change all the cash into five dollar bills.

Brian had performed the rest of the tasks listed in the e-mail that evening and was walking down Christopher Street to his appointment with a fat stack of 120 $5 bills in his pocket and plenty of time to spare. In fact, he began to wonder if it was too easy. Mistress Katrina normally imposed much more difficult tasks and more stringent dress requirements when they met in public, such as making him walk to their rendezvous on all fours or meeting her in Times Square wearing only a leather harness and collar.

At any rate, Brian was looking forward to seeing his beautiful Mistress again and when he arrived at the corner of Hudson & Christopher he was not disappointed. Mistress Katrina was a vision of perfection. Tonight Mistress wasn't wearing one of her typical, elegant business suits but more festive club-going attire -- a red corset top, a flirty pleated black skirt, and 4" heels in red patent leather. Brian was always amazed how Mistress Katrina was able to ooze sex appeal from every one of her pores, yet never lose at bit of her refinement or sophistication.



Brian greeted his mistress with a kiss on the hand and then promptly offered her the envelope with the $600. She said, "Keep that. You will need it later. In fact, I have something for you." Mistress Katrina handed Brian a small rectangular box and told him not to open it until they reached their destination.

They walked two blocks south on Hudson until they were in front of one of New York's most popular lesbian bars. It was a pleasant Thursday night in early spring and the clubs and bars of Greenwich Village were crowded, and no place more than Henrietta Hudson. The bar attracted a very diverse crowd -- tough biker chicks with leather jackets and tattoos on their arms; slim hipster chicks with dyed hair and tattoos on their shoulder blades; glamorous "lip-stick lesbians" in high heels and Chanel dresses; butch dykes in wife-beater t-shirts; college girls experimenting with their sexuality; and even a few men there with friends or just to gawk.

Mistress Katrina said, "You may open the box now." Inside were what Brian thought were business cards. He pulled one out for closer inspection and, in fact, it was an elegantly embossed off-white business card.

"What a strange gift," he thought. Then Brian looked closer. Instead of his name and address, each of the cards bore the same small embossed message:

Please spit on me.
I will pay $5 for the privilegeof receiving your saliva.

Brian looked at Mistress Katrina, back at the business card, and then at the boisterous crowd of Sapphic women. "How do you want me to do this?," he asked.

"No talking. Just give a card to anyone who interests you and then hand over the money. We will be here until you run out of cards or run out of $5 bills."

To be continued . . .

This fantasy was inspired by a fun pro domme session and a gossip page news item, both from last November.

Rachael Ray's husband and I have something in common

Synchronicity. Just a few days ago I had a hot pro domme session that involved being spat on, and I realized that could be a real fetish of mine. Today the gossip sites are filled with the breaking story that Food Network star Rachael Ray's husband, John Cusimano, has similar predilictions.

According to the National Enquirer, Cusimano paid Jeannine Walz, a 30-year-old Florida woman, hundreds of dollars to spit on him and rub her feet in his face. As reported by the New York Daily News:

[The] woman contends that they met outside a lesbian bar in New York's West Village in 2000. That night, she said, Cusimano paid Walz and three friends $20 to spit in his face. "He even took pictures of us doing it," she tells the tab.

Walz said they continued to meet at her apartment and the apartment he shared at the time with Ray, 38.

"Sometimes he'd be naked," she claims. "I always kept my clothes on.

"John paid me up to $500 for a session," she claims. "We'd often have sessions at least twice a month … I virtually supported myself by spitting on him. But there was never any normal sex involved. He once offered to pay me $1,200 to perform a kinky sex act with him, but I refused."

I can't seem to find a photo of Jeannine Walz, the woman in question, but I would let Rachael Ray hawk her sweet, Triscuit-flavored loogies at my face all day long.

A Session with Mistress Gisele: Part 2

The Spitting Contest

At the beginning of our session, I told Mistress Gisele that I was interested in pushing my humiliation boundaries. After we finished with the violet wand, she resumed her verbal humiliation of me and began to punctuate her insults by periodically spitting in my face. This form of degradation -- of ultimate disrespect -- really hit the spot for me and made me rock hard. Mistress Gisele could tell I enjoyed it and she kept returning to this treatment. Her saliva would hit my forehead and drip down over my eyes or be sprayed all over my cheeks. Occasionally, she would ask me to open wide and launch her spit directly into my eager mouth.

Mistress Gisele asked if I would like other women to spit on me and when I said yes, of course, she organized an impromptu spitting contest. First, she ordered me to offer up a cash prize to make it worthwhile for the other Mistresses. We agreed that $40 would be sufficient. Then, she took bright red lipstick and drew two concentric circles on my bare chest, forming a target with my bellybutton as the bulls eye. She added smaller circles higher on my chest, one around each nipple. There was some disagreement later as to whether this looked more like a bear's face and ears or the Mickey Mouse logo, but there was no disagreement that I looked ridiculous.



Mistress Gisele ushered me into a common office area of the Dungeons of Mistress Elizabeth and I met the two other women who had elected to participate in the spitting contest -- Mistress Dale, who I had the pleasure of sessioning with some time ago, and a tall, willowy blonde who was working in the office as a receptionist. The women looked over my short, scrawny body, the lipstick target on my chest, and the panties I was still wearing and they both got a chuckle.

Mistress Gisele established the rules. There was a line about three away from me that they would stand behind, lean in and spit at me. Any saliva landing in the outer circle or the small circles around my nipples would score 1 point. Any spit landing in the inner circle around my navel would score 2 points. In three separate rounds each of the three contestants would have five chances to spit on me -- 45 opportunities for me be spat on!

The receptionist was not a good spitter. She was more of a sprayer. Although she used her height advantage over the two Mistresses and leaned in over the line, the normal result of her efforts was a diffuse spray of saliva on my face and few or no points for her.

Mistress Dale, however, turned out to be a championship spitter. She launched large, dense loogies in perfect parabolic arcs onto my face and chest. Two of Mistress Dale's thick loogies hit my face in a row and it looked like cum rolling down my cheek in a bukkake shot. Mistress Gisele said, "I bet you like that feeling -- having cum landing on your face and rolling down to your chin, don't you? Well, you better learn to like it."

Oddly enough, although the point-winning targets were on my chest, it seems at least a third of the Mistresses' saliva salvos ended up on my face. I absolutely loved the humiliation of this game and I had a raging erection in my panties throughout the whole 20-minute event. It was a close contest because Mistress Gisele was also an accomplished spitter, but in the end Mistress Dale's superior technique won out and she won the contest and claimed the $40.