Session Wrestler to Slave Ch. 08

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The TV was on, but Jamie wasn’t really watching, she didn’t even know what channel it was on. Alone on the couch, her mind raced thinking about what was going on with her. Why in the world had she had a mental lapse during Tim’s foot massage (especially since he gave such great foot massages with those huge, powerful hands) and try to smash his face with her foot. That foot was on his face since she knew he would like it, not to smash him. Why could she not get past the session with Ray. Did she really feel like Tim did and yearn to give up control and be owned? Did she really want to be Ray’s bitch?

Unlike previous nights fighting through those thoughts, one thought kept coming back over and over: why did Ray say, “Call me when you are ready.”? What did that mean? She hadn’t given it much thought due to all the other disturbing thoughts that she couldn’t push out of her head. However, after tonight, she began to wonder if seeing Ray again was the only way to get him out of her head and get past him crushing her physically with his arms and legs, crushing her mentally with his words, then crushing her spirit with his feet.

The next day was long for Jamie. She didn’t sleep much that night and spent quite a bit a time lying awake thinking about trying to smash Tim’s face with her foot. Why did she do that? Did the session with Ray really affect her that much? Tim didn’t even do anything to provoke her in any way, the last words she remembered him saying were things like “taking control of me” or “owning me” or “making me your bitch”. Did it take so little to send her to a place where Ray filled her head again and she ended up trying to smash poor Tim’s face with her foot?

Work was not easy on Monday either. It had been two days since the session with Tim, and while she was normally very good with spreadsheets, she found focus elusive. Instead of just dealing with the feelings and emotions from last week’s destruction by Ray, which she still wasn’t able to process, she now had to deal with seeing that look on Tim’s face just before she eased up with her foot. Then came Tim’s questions that she had no answers for, then the lie she pulled out of left field to try, somehow, to justify why she did what she did.

Tim seemed to buy her story, even though it was 95% BS, and somehow that made it worse, if it could be worse. What if he asked about it later? Surely he wouldn’t, he was a gentleman, and a gentleman would not bring up a sore point in a lady’s past. It also bothered her a bit that the lie came so easy, so quickly, and in such detail.

‘I’ve never lied like that before to anyone.’ she thought. She didn’t know what to think about that either.

Lunch time was close and one of the partners at her accounting firm came by her office and said the partners had splurged for pizza and lunch would be in 20 minutes.

“Really?” Jamie said. “What’s the occasion, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Her name was Beth, the youngest partner who was promoted to that level just before Jamie was hired.

“We used to do this periodically before COVID to keep morale high! We haven’t done one since I’ve been partner, so I wanted to make sure it was a tradition that didn’t die!” she said excitedly.

“Cool.” Jamie said as she feigned her own excitement.

“Yeah! I hope everyone comes down. It was kinda my idea even though people have been talking about bringing it back for a while now, so I’m giving everyone a heads up. It will be Lou’s Pizza, that place on Parlor Street.”

“Ok, I’ll be there.” Jamie said.

“Great!” Beth said. “Downstairs conference room at 10 after noon!” She left, heading to the next office to spread the word.

“Well damn….” Jamie said quietly to herself, now alone in her office. “Why today of all days Beth? COVID restriction have been over for months, why couldn’t you bring it back before I met Ray or tried to kill Tim.” she continued under her breath, all of a sudden praying no one walking by her open door had heard.

‘Damn!’ she thought as she got up and went to the door to see who may be around. The hallway was empty, no one had heard anything.

More disturbingly, why had she related the situation back to Ray?

‘Did I just think “why couldn’t this be before Ray.”‘ she thought silently. ‘What is that about?’ she continued to think to herself. ‘Is that how I view time now: before Ray and after Ray?’

Now what? She didn’t want to go to the pizza party.

‘An adult pizza party? What the F’ Beth?’ she thought cynically. ‘Why today? I just wanted to work the day, eat my lunch with whomever shows up, and go home.’

‘But when a partner, one of the big wigs, asks for something you don’t say no.’ she continued to think.

This turn of events, a pizza party, only made things worse. She didn’t want to go and be social or fun, but she had to. She was upset that she viewed it so cynically, she never did that. To top it off, somehow it made her think of Ray.

‘That’s not good Jamie,’ she said inside, ‘that’s not good at all.’

She worked up the nerve to go to the pizza party and actually made istanbul travesti the most of it. It lasted an hour, and she was able to clear her head a bit and chat with some work friends. Near the end they made plans for margaritas and dinner later that night. Jamie thought that would help take her mind off things.

She left work about 15 minutes early, went home and changed for a quick workout. She went to the gym and put in 30 minutes on an elliptical then went home for a shower before dinner and drinks at 6:30. The gym was close and the restaurant closer, so she was able to do everything and still have time to get ready.

The evening was fun, she may have had one to many margaritas, but she was five minutes from home down a few side streets.

She got home around 9:30, showered again, watched some TV to give her hair time to dry, and poured a glass of red wine. She was a little drunk, she probably didn’t need the wine, but the drive home reminded her of the drive home after the session with Ray. Being a little drunk made her mind race more than normal, and she wasn’t able to stop the random and twisted thoughts from the session from pouring in:

‘Why did he say call him when I’m ready?’

‘Do I want to call him? Maybe an email? He does owe me at least 800 bucks for that, right? It’s just an email?’

‘Did I really like all of it? Maybe just some of it….. ‘

‘Wait, I didn’t like it at all! I didn’t, did I? Maybe I did. I didn’t. Then why can’t I get him out of my head?’

‘Why didn’t I fight his final victory pose? I didn’t have to fight back, maybe just insist he put his foot between my boobs like each time before? That’s fair, right? Foot on boobs? Not his toes smashing my nose?’

‘It was his victory pose, he could do what he wanted. Right? Wait, it was my session too, wasn’t it? Wasn’t I in control the whole time?’

‘Did he have to smash my nose with his toes? Was that necessary? Did I like that? I didn’t move, did I?’

‘Why did I give him a thumbs up while he held my nose and face in his toe clutches?’

“His toe clutches? What the hell are his toe clutches?” she suddenly said out loud, breaking the string of silent thoughts for the moment.

She looked around, thankful she was alone in her condo.

“Get it together Jamie!” she sternly told herself out loud, alone in the dark in front of the TV. Just like previous nights she didn’t even know what was on in front of her. She got up to get herself another glass of red wine, pouring it all the way to the top.

“These are your thoughts, and this is your head, not his. You control what goes on up there, not Ray. Understand!” She continued out loud, trying to reassure herself.

She sat back down and tried to focus on the TV. Some comedy was on, it was a bit of a slappy comedy with a bit too much juvenile male humor. It failed to hold her attention, and she really needed something to hold her attention right now, so she started searching for something else.

She felt her hair and looked at the clock: not dry yet and 10:13 pm. Despite her coaching and giving herself a stern talking to, her drunken mind wondered again as she started in on the second glass of wine….

‘His toes clutches… that’s kinda funny. He did have nice feet and toes, at least they weren’t gross like most guy feet. They were smooth and not calloused, maybe a little but he’s a guy.’ She thought to herself. More thoughts continued unabated:

‘They didn’t even taste as bad as I thought feet may taste, not even the toe flossing, even after he beat my ass with them.’

“What!?” she said out loud again. “Didn’t taste bad?”

‘No, not that bad.’ she thought.

‘Maybe that’s why I was under them for 2 hours and 15 minutes getting my fill of them.’ she thought unnervingly, unable to stop the inner monolog going on in her head. Her situation was likely not helped by margaritas and red wine.

‘Wait, so I could get my fill? I didn’t need my fill of them, he put me down there.’ She continued silently.

‘But did he? Did he really?’ she continued to think, somehow still fighting a silent fight with herself inside her own head. ‘He just told me what to do, he didn’t force me to do it. He just told me to sit on the floor and do what came natural.’

“Wait, full stop Jamie!” she said out loud, once again, still alone in her condo. Thoughts continued to roll in….

‘He didn’t even tell me to worship his feet, did he? He just said do what comes natural. He never said “Lick my soles.”‘

‘He never said “Suck my toes”‘

‘He never said “Let me use your boobs as a foot rest.”‘ she thought.

‘I must have done that all on my own, but why would I do that?’

She sat for stunned second in silence, still unable to stop the memories from coming back to the forefront of her mind. New memories surfaced and come flowing in.

‘And what about that stupid test he made me take. I must have failed. Or did I pass?’ she thought.

She didn’t know what the test meant, only that he gave her a choice to remove his foot from her face, releasing her from his istanbul travestileri toe clutches, or ask that he remove it, or do nothing.’

‘That was my chance to run, but how many God Damn chances did I have to leave the room?’ she thought.

‘I did nothing, then he told me I have a foot fetish. No. Wait, that’s not right.’ she remembered silently ‘I admitted I have a foot fetish, he didn’t tell me that, I told him that.’

‘Do I really have a foot fetish?’ she thought, troubled by the idea. ‘I think I might. Maybe I do?’ she silently began to realize.

‘Would that be so bad, having a foot fetish? He said he is happy acknowledging his.’

‘No. that’s BS. He made me do those things’ she though defiantly. Defiant or not, more came rushing back to Jamie.

‘What about my confession? At the end I started telling him how much I liked everything he did to me. That I LIKED IT. What the fuck was that about?’

‘I said “I like the pain of your headscissor.”‘

‘I said “I loved when you manhandled me.”‘

‘I said “I liked feeling your sweaty balls and dick on my face while you choked the life out of me.”‘

She had used the F word again. She never used the F word. After the session with Ray she had said or thought it at least 10 times. If she wasn’t so troubled by bigger problems at the moment that would have bothered her. Sure, she didn’t say it out loud just now, but it’s use was very clear.

“I should have reported his ass to the session wrestling site for that shit, he would never session again. Ever” she said aloud, as defiantly as she could.

“But for what…..” she trailed off, talking to herself while the TV played “….. he didn’t make me do a thing. I did all that because he wanted me to, not because he forced me too.” she continued aloud, still alone in her living room.

“Because he wanted me too…. or because I wanted too…” she was still talking out loud barely able to finish the thought, but she opened her mouth the rest of that specific realization came out across her lips.

“I did all that because I wanted to.”

She sat in silence, that thoughts and memories of the night stopped. She realized she still didn’t know what was on TV, then realized she had never changed it from that stupid comedy that was on earlier.

Her head buzzed from margaritas, red wine, and revelations from her session with Ray. She felt her hair and it was dry enough for bed, so she combed it so it would look good tomorrow. She got up and went to the kitchen to put her now empty wine glass in the sink. She didn’t remember finishing it, but did remember filling it to the top earlier. She grabbed a glass of water from the tap and drank it down to help minimize any potential hangover tomorrow, then filled it again and looked at the clock on the microwave.


“I might feel the wine tomorrow, those last two may have been a mistake.” she said aloud to herself as she made her way to her bed.

She slept better that night than any night since her session with Ray.

She woke up the next day with a hangover, probably not helped by the two glasses of wine. A headache settled in for the morning

She drank two glasses of water to help her current situation and looked at her couch as she finished the second one. That’s where she sat when being a bit drunk allowed the flood gates to break and all of the emotion to smash her reality the night before. She played it off, blaming the booze.

“Why was I such a sad sack last night? Where did the pity party come from?” she said aloud, rebuilding her confidence now that she was sober.

‘It’s a new day, I got a good night sleep, it should be a good day.’ she thought as she got ready for work.

‘Was it a good night’s sleep? Or an alcohol induced sleep?’ she thought, now unsure if that was a true good night’s sleep or mostly attributable to being a bit drunk the night before.

‘Either way, I needed 8 hours, I’m going to call last night a win.’ she decided without words.

Work came and went and it was a better day. Her hangover was gone by 10:30 or so with the help of a Powerade and a few Advil. She was able to focus more throughout the day, but thoughts from her red wine episode on her couch mixed with the thoughts from the session with Ray and his final comment kept coming back in her head.

“Call me when you are ready.” he had said. Why did he say that and why were the words coming back to her, over and over, off and on, all day long?

After work she went to the gym for a long workout: light weights, 45 minutes on the elliptical, followed by a long stretching session. She felt great! That was just what the doctor ordered to help both her mind and her body.

She went home, showered, and had the evening to herself.

It was 6:50 pm.

She made a cup of tea, got out her laptop, and checked up on her profile on her page on the session wrestling website. After a few adjustments, she began checking email from her session wrestling account.

It was Tuesday, and had been seven days since her session with Ray and she had no messages travesti istanbul from him. No “Thank you for letting me crush you and walk all over you.” email, no message saying it was fun, no follow up asking if they could do it again sometime. Not even a message saying, “I’m happy to send you the money I owe you.” None of the typical follow up emails she got from clients after a session.

It had been three days after her session with Tim and she even got a “Thank you” email from him, and he even apologized for bringing up her “session from hell a few months ago” and making her relive it and talk about it.

“Session from hell?” she thought out loud?

“Oh yeah! The huge lie I totally made up to justify trying to stomp his face in.” she continued, shaking her head at her actions.

‘Tim, what a gentleman, apologizing again for something that was 100% my fault.’ she thought as she responded to his email. She made it clear again how sorry she was in a very polite and sincere, yet honest, way and thanked him for being such a valued client.

Tim also thanked her for the facesitting, letting him rub and lick her feet, and the 45 minutes of conversation when the wrestling element of the session was over.

Jamie acknowledged those as well and closed by saying

“P.S. sitting on your face was my genuine pleasure ;)”

She went on to respond to some potentially new clients thinking about making the two hour drive from the city for a session. She pulled quite a few clients from the city, maybe because she was the only 6’1″ wrestler within seven hours any direction. Or maybe it was the perfect way for a man to session with her and easily lie to a wife or girlfriend about it: fake going to work, spend 4 1/2 hours round trip driving, an hour and a half for the session and small talk, an hour eating lunch somewhere and there aren’t too many hours left to waste before getting home after a typical day’s work.

Jamie didn’t judge, this was their business, she just enjoyed playing her role and giving them an outlet for their fantasies. She would never apologize or feel shame for doing what she did. She went on to respond to all the emails, even the obvious time wasters, and then saw the last email from Ray confirming their session a final time

“Nope, not tonight Ray.” she said out loud

She minimized that window, leaving it open, and randomly and mindlessly read a few articles and checked up on the football and volleyball teams at her alma mater.

Another hour or two went by and she opened her email window before logging off. It seemed one of her time wasters is not a time waster after all, Jamie realized when she saw a new email hit her account. Seems a man from the city wants a session this upcoming Monday, six days away.

‘Sweet!’ she thought, it will be nice to have a normal session with nothing messed up happening, like her getting owned on the mat or her trying to smash Tim’s face in.

After a few more logistic emails with this new client, Jonathan, she put it on her calendar when his electronic deposit appeared in her account.

She closed her email, turned off her computer and called it a night.

The next day, Wednesday, passed at work just like Thursday and Friday did. She was settling into a strange routine which was beginning to worry her. Work just wasn’t as fun, the consistent lack of a full eight or nine hours sleep was wearing on her more and more, and thoughts of the session with Ray were never far from her mind. Tim’s accusing words after smashing his face with her foot weren’t far from her mind either.

She took a long nap after work on Wednesday, which she hadn’t done since she was an undergrad four or five years ago. She remembered why: it was a huge mistake! She slept even worse after the two hour nap and felt more exhausted, not more rested like she planned, on Thursday.

She met friends for margaritas and Mexican food Thursday at the same place near her condo, that was one positive part of her new routine. She got home around 10:30, a bit drunk, again, after the evening. She passed on the red wine and checked her session email. Nothing new or exciting, and she decided she would respond back tomorrow. Then she saw the last message from Ray, from a week and a half ago, that he sent to confirm their session for a final time.

She opened it and reread the whole email string from the beginning

She read it again.

And again.

And again.

She studied it, word for word, when she read them all a fifth time.

‘Time to respond!’ she thought confidently, the booze boosting her confidence. ‘Politely. Professionally. I can’t let him know he got in my head. This needs to be a friendly, yet simple, reminder that he forgot to pay for the session. Once I get paid, I can put this behind me.’ she told herself.

She hit “Reply” and began to type at 10:51

It read:


I hope all is well and that you enjoyed our session. I enjoyed meeting you, and I hope we can have another session in the future. I would like to bring up the issue of payment for the session. When it was over, you left and forgot to pay the fee, which is $400 per hour. The fee doubled, at your request and my acceptance, when we agreed to your suggested foot worshiping clause, making the total fee $800. Subtract your deposit and it stands at $700.

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