Triple F Threat
I am Mistress Keva.
I am a professional dominatrix
an Asian woman
an Asian dominatrix. I am an Asian sex worker
which invariably makes me the object of the Asian fetish.
Kink and race are so intertwined I would not know how
to separate the two.
I have played
the Japanese schoolgirl poking fun of her nerdy White teacher
the Dragonlady from Terry and the Pirates
while sticking needles in my captor’s balls
and the trafficked sex worker seeking revenge on her pimp
I like to think that over time, I have learned to exploit
the stereotypes
now able to navigate through them with a bit of humor
Here begins my story of the three Fs of my domme world.
i. Food
My first kinky food experience started Valentine’s Day
I wanted the night to be romantic. Tea lights
were lit down the hallway leading to a bed
strewn with flower petals.
Completely naked except for a whip cream bikini.
It was all very Varsity Blues circa 1999.
Reality was not as sexy and fantasy-like as I thought it would be.
My ex-girlfriend took one lick of my boob and all I could smell
was the dairy on her breath for the rest of the night. I asked her
to brush her teeth but she said she was “too lazy.” I held
my breath the whole night trying not to smell
the sweet sourness of whip cream.
Years later I was in a tiny bathroom willed with the same sticky
sweet smell of dairy filling the air
My first food sploshing session
I was wearing a marching band uniform.
My client lay in the tub, also in his marching band uniform.
The role-play and session first started in another dungeon room.
I was in the cool marching band and part of the cool drum line.
He was a nerdy band geek from an opposing school and played the clarinet
or bassoon or perhaps some other woodwind instrument.
We were in some sort of game show competition and I kept winning.
(I actually pretended to play the game show host as well.)
“And the winner is … Keva I Lee!” I announced.
“And the winner is … Keva I Lee. And now I’m going to spit on you!”
“And the winner is … Keva I Lee! And now I’m going to faux fuck you
in the ass
with this large buttplug over your marching band uniform.”
This went on for quite some time until
the last and final round. He lost again
ended up in the bathtub still wearing his marching band uniform.
There I cracked raw eggs on his head, I dumped cups of Jell-O
pudding on him. I sprayed whip cream. The food was
the humiliation
complete with me peeing
on him for the finale.
I started to learn more about kink
and food. Humiliation and food.
Food and fetish.
ii. Fetish
This role-play started with my client playing the grocery delivery boy. We had
corresponded
via email beforehand and I told him to bring bread, grapes, bananas and cookies.
He was adamant about bringing chow mein. I kept saying I did not want chow
mein until I realized, Oh … he wants a Chinese girl eating Chinese noodles and
spitting them
into his mouth. I call this the baby bird fetish. Basically to chew something up and
then spit it into the submissive’s mouth. He wanted the baby bird food as well as
any of my fluids—snot, spit, mucus, pee—whatever I could or would drop into
his mouth.
During the session,
I spat the noodles into his mouth.
I even decided to up the Chinese ante
and made dim sum with my snot.
I blew my nose into the bread
and told him it was dim sum.
“Here’s ha gow” (shrimp dumpling)
“Here’s a cha siu bao” (barbecue pork bun)
I even stuffed grapes in my nose and blew them out like snot rockets (there is no
Cantonese word for this). He loved all of it. He was shaking his leg like a dog. He
enjoyed the session so much he decided to come back next month for a follow-up
session, but this time he wanted me to spit food in his mouth and fart in his
mouth. I took this on as a challenge and accepted. I brought along my best friend.
We prepared all day for the session.
We told him to come at the very end
of the day when we would likely be
our gassiest from eating cheese all day.
He was to bring more cheese, along with coffee, the usual grapes, bread and
bananas. We did the baby bird feeding, but when it was time to fart we could not
muster one out. And we tried. We seriously tried. We were doing yoga moves,
the downward dog, the plough, the cat and cow. Now imagine two Asian girls
dressed in black lingerie doing yoga moves in the middle of a dimly lit dungeon
floor while an old White guy on his hands and knees wags his leg like a tail
waiting to suck out their farts. That was us. But we just could not do it. We could
not fart. When he left I realized it was performance anxiety.
A whole day of cheese with no results.
And just as my session ended with farts
this story also ends with farts.
iii. Farts
(Even though I have written about farts) Fart requests
are not a usual everyday occurrence. As I said before, I take it
as a challenge. Sometimes I just pretend that I am about to fart
or threaten to fart.
He was a professional singer, both in real life and in the role-play scenario.
He had an arrogance about him that was quiet and annoying. To him, all Asian
Mistresses in the scene were my friends and we were all interchangeable.
His email complimented me on my grace
and poise, but not without stating that he should know
because of his past dating adventures with Asian pageant queens.
He was tall, lanky and White. He was completely nondescript
aside from his specific role-play scenario. I was to play his wife.
The night before we were supposed to be at a cocktail party.
I caught him singing to another woman. In a fit of jealousy
I confront him about his indiscretions. I become so angry
that I make him sing for me. And he actually sang for me. We were
sitting on the bed in the boudoir setting of the dungeon and he sang
for me. Still wearing his suit and tie, his voice was soothing
in a piano lounge sort of way. It was like Barry Manilow
and Nat King Cole. As he sang for me, I pretended to become
even more enraged and jealous. I could not believe
he used his beautiful voice to sing to another woman.
I loved his voice so much
I only wanted it for myself.
“How could you sing to another woman? You should only be singing to
me!”
He apologized but that only made me angrier until
I threatened to piss and fart in his mouth.
“Look at you with your mouth wide open. Hold that vowel longer.
What if I just piss right in your mouth right now?”
As I taunted him I told him to sing louder, to hold his notes longer, to sing into
my ass. Just as I bend over to tell him to sing again, I feel him nuzzle his nose
between my ass cheeks and out from between my ass I hear him sing.
“Unforgettaaabbllle … That’s what you are …”