October 2016
+1+
Even the ceiling fan is spotless. I’ve never thought about it before. There is never a speck of dust on the swirling blades. I squint at the mirrored blades. They are so shiny I can almost see my reflection--
My phone alarm sounds and interrupts my thoughts. I slowly sit up and turn off the gaudy sparkly vibrator. My skin still feels heated and sensitive. I slowly pull the textured vibrator out, my body clenches and desperately pulses for the release I hadn’t allowed it.
By the time I shower the desire has faded and I feel a little bit more in control. I spend way too much time working my hair into a complicated crown braid. Out of habit I mouth the words to the song we used to sing at The House when we did our hair. I don’t ever see that unhappy child when I look in the mirror. I still see the carefree quietly rebellious twenty-year old. Just with a slightly stronger jaw and better skin.
I’m generous with my cologne as I head to the elevator. I let out a breath when I reach the lobby. There is a long hallway that leads from the elevator to the condo’s front doors. My thrifted oxford lace-ups click on the floor in a way that’s just not as satisfying as my heels.
My favorite concierge is at the front desk today. I don’t know his name but I like him. He seems young and is always subdued—he never asks me to smile or puts on a fake hospitable front. He’s quiet. He never initiates conversation…but he is bold enough to look me in eye when handing me my mail.
He’s seen the kind of mail I get. I rarely give out my home address yet my mailbox is bombarded with BDSM and adult toy store magazines. Often they are mistakenly addressed to Mistress Athena Prince. It confused the mailroom for weeks. I’d had to send Paris down there to explain. He cared about having things explained the right way.
Anyways, this concierge always seems to be on the edge of flirting. Asking. There is a curiosity there that worries but also interest me.
“Have a good evening, Seraphina”, He says as I walk past and there is a tiny bit of reverence there.
I turn on my heels just a few feet from the door. I’m focused and serious. I want to make him squirm a little. I want him to hear how displeased I am.
“That’s Miss. Prince, actually.”
Mistress Prince
“Apologies, Miss. Prince.”, He says. I love his quick correction. He would make a challenging sub but I couldn’t proposition him. It would be crossing a line. Paris is always telling me to watch out for those lines. Those…what did he call them? Bright lines. But maybe this wasn’t one. After all it was the concierge’s job to keep every homeowner in the building pleased.
I part my lips slightly to say something, then remember I should leave him wanting. If he is really intuitive, he’ll know he’d pleased me.
There is a slight chill in the air. I didn’t bother with a coat since I only have to walk to around the block to reach the commercial side of 48X48. The small vegan health spa is closed and the glasses repair shop is about to shutter to. The newly opened Starbucks is slowing down and will close soon. At the end of the commercial row is a small rickety spiral staircase that leads to the lower level where New Aeterna sits alone.
Once inside.
I get to work.
+2+
I move the lounge chairs and chaises out of New Aeterna’s lobby and dry mop the floor until it shines. Then, I squeeze into the tiny storage room to grab 30 folding chair. I set the chairs in a neat row so they are all facing a throne chair I’d rolled out of one of the dungeons.
I grab the box of books the publisher delivered for the book signing and artfully arrange copies of Her Fifty Shades : Femdom learning anthology and guide by Dr. Dahlia Cross next to the throne chair. Dr. Cross’ name sounds familiar but I don’t recognize her author picture.
I turn on the tablet that takes credit cards and set up the cash till by following Paris’ detailed written instructions. I didn’t like the idea of him giving me instructions but it couldn’t be helped. I’d set up for events several times, but I could never get all the steps right without help.
Speaking of.
Sven slips in and I make a point of looking at the clock. He’s late. He has one button undone on his black button up. I fucking love how that missing button makes him look, but New Aeterna has standards. I have standards. Especially when it comes to (my) men.
“Fix your shirt”, I say.
“Hello to yo-“
“Fix your shirt. Then we’ll talk.”
“Yes, Mistress.” he says sly.
Fuck, if I didn’t love being called that. If only for the aesthetics and not the other shit.
I slip on a service apron on and toss one at Sven.
+++
“It’s actually rewarding for them”, Dr. Dahlia Cross says leaning into her
gathered audience, “The reason men crave domination, even the ones who don’t
ask for it by name, inherently understand that a woman in charge can help them reach
their highest potential. Men seek out female domination because society has put
all this pressure on them to be strong, to be providers, to be masculine. They
often crave a break from this. I know I
would.”
She pauses for laughter.
“Look ladies, being in a female led relationship is cathartic. It gives us women the power that society took from us. It’s a fulfilling and natural balancing act. No gaudy outfits or special tools needed. It’s beautiful really…um…ahem…mmm—“.
For the first time that evening Dahlia Cross hesitates. She is looking past the audience and right in my direction. Fuck, I hadn’t scoffed out loud…had I? Sven gives me a look that lets me know I’d definitely scoffed out loud
I duck behind the bar and pretend to count the chilled wine bottles while the Q&A portion starts. Afterwards, I serve wine to readers and publishing people while trying to be invisible. Everyone is so taken with Sven they don’t even notice me. Without make-up I was practically invisible--except the two men who asked me how tall I was.
Eventually Dr. Cross’ publicist gets everyone in to a long line to begin the signing. Dr. Cross’ dutiful husband is opening books and refilling her wine. He’s attentive. Happily fulfilling his subordinate role society apparently won’t let him have. Dr. Cross looks just like her author photo. Down to the hot pink lipstick and pre-mature silver gray hair in a complicated chignon. I look at her book again. The cover claims she is a renowned sex therapist, feminist and female led-relationship counselor/practitioner.
Hearing her speak I suddenly remembered where I’d heard her name before. At The Domme Club (such a fucking uncreative name for a Domme-centric members only sex club) the women’s favorite topic was tearing down women who evangelized about how reversing gender roles would save straight relationships. I’d quietly listened as they complained but I didn’t understand. It sounded a lot like my marriage.
I looked it up on the internet later and learned some people in female-led relationships had a lot mean things to say about the BDSM community. They blamed us for fetizishing their lifestyle and making it hard to ‘come out’ as being in a female-led relationship.
They had tons of internet post complaining about BDSM being a bad mainstream example of alternative lifestyles. One forum had a section where they posted pictures of Domme’s websites and pointed out services and wording that blurred legal lines.
I’d found a search bar and put my name in.
Last year they’d pulled a picture from New Aeterna’s Instagram. Paris paid someone to post on that account. We usually took all the picture three months in advance. My full face and body were barley on the account—but they had found the one.
The forum had rightly pointed out the filters and editing. They also speculated on my sex. I didn’t like it and there didn’t seem to be a way to delete it. They’d also found one bad review from a rental client who found out our ‘signature rose’ was just cheap white wine mixed with cheaper red wine.
It was nothing compared to the pages and pages they had on bigger Dommes. My ex-mentor, Alexxa, had several threads dedicated to her. I never liked computers. I deleted the internet off the computer. Paris said I just got rid of the icon but that was enough for me.
I didn’t like what she had to stay so I focused on my job. We’d gone through eight bottles of wine—we’d need to go through twenty to break even for this event. Maybe if I turn some music on people will stay longer and drink. I just had to find the instructions--
“Excuse me.”
I look up and of course Ms. Cross is in front of me.
“Red, white or rose”, I offer.
“I actually wanted to speak with Mr. Prince. The venue and atmosphere was perfect. He has a wonderful place here. He is a very accomplished young man”
“He has class tonight.” I say, “He’s not the owner.”
This seems to slightly confuse her. Dr. Cross extends a copy of her book to me with an envelope attached, “Please be sure he gets this as a thank you gift.”
I pull off the envelope and open it. She’ is too shocked to say anything. It’s a thank you card. Her business cards slips out when I open it.
Please call me anytime for free therapy sessions. We can keep it business or personal!
She’d also scribbled her personal and private phone number
“Sessions?”
“That’s between me and my future client.”
I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. I was fine with Paris seeing a sex therapist but not this one. Paris always came off as young and anxious. Like he needed direction. Of course she’d want him.
I rip up the card.
“Excuse me!”
“I don’t need Paris getting ideas. I certainly don’t want him to think just because he’s a man he’s naturally suited to submission.”
She sets the book down and probably studies my body language.
“You’re together? I didn’t realize he was in a female-led relationship—“
“He’s not. I’m his Domme. What did you say about that”, I flip through her book and read, “A female-led relationship is similar to a D/s one only without the dirty deviant parts and whipping. No leather needed.”
She folds her arms.
“My book is for a certain audience that finds joy and contentment in switching gender-roles to build strongly mutually fulfilling relationships. If it’s not something you agree with then simply don’t engage with it. Mr. Prince clearly has no issue with my material.”
I flip through until I find another page.
“It’s important when entering an FLR that the man understands they aren’t getting oversexualized latex clad dominatraixes with squeamish fetishes. This is about building real relationships to help both the male and female flourish. Men get freedom from the shackles of being the sole provider and women get to take back what history has taken from us.
“I--every time you mention Dommes, fetishes or kinks it’s to calls us freaks or deviants.”
“I have my audience. You have yours. My book is about fostering positive authentic relationships and marriages—not wild unconventional sex between strangers.”
“Unconventional? You have whole chapter on male chastity--but whips and chains is too far? You know this is a dungeon, right?”
“Yes, but Mr. Prince informed me we that was just a feature of the space.” she turns to her publicist, “I think we’ll hold payment until we can speak with Mr. Prince.”
“I’m his wife. So I’m in charge, right?”
“I don’t like your tone. Call Mr. Prince right now.”
“No.”
The publicist starts dialing and Dr. Cross’ husband comes over. I was acting like such a bitch but I didn’t care. This was my business, my livelihood, my lifestyle and my husband. We are at a standstill for several minutes.
“Forget it”, I decide I’ve had enough, “I don’t want your money. Get out.”
+++
“I’m sorry, Darling. I don’t always have time to do background research on the rental customers. I just saw the big check. I didn’t even have time to look up her book. I’m sorry.”
I can hear the faint street noise and the click of his dress shoes on pavement. I’d called him as soon as I got back home and showered. I put him on speaker phone and listened to his long rambling apology while I put my make-up on. I hide away my naturally hard features and blended colors to bring out my softer feminine ones. I add drops to make my pupils dilate and add lashes while he is still talking.
I slide into a second-hand designer black mini dress and nude high heels. I sift through the pile of containers and powders until I find the cotton candy shimmer dust that clients seem to really like. I brush a little on my thigh highs and décolletage. I want to put on a comfortable pair of underwear but I settle for the green lace ones with cheap satin ribbons woven into the sides. My reflection is beautiful but everything hurts. Especially the corset.
I sort of like the pain. It feeds her. My reflection. The Domme in the mirror.
“It won’t happen again. Darling, my lecture is about to start again.” Paris finally starts to wind down.
“She thought you were single.” I say.
His footsteps slow.
“…I took my wedding ring off when I gave her a tour.”
“That’s not a wedding ring that’s your collar. You’re never supposed to take it off without permission. You know the rules.”
“I get more bookings when I do. We really needed Dr. Cross’ check to make rents this month.”
I should have cared about the money, but I didn’t. I cared about the ring. I wanted people to look at him and know he belonged to someone. Maybe it was the make-up but I couldn’t push down the ravenous Domme inside of me.
“Paris, don’t you ever take that ring off again. I made it very clear that you can only take it off with permission.”
“I’m sorry, I just—“
My phone beeps and I see another call coming in from The Gilded Cage car service. I’m done with Paris so I just hang up on him.
I answer the car service.
“Yes”, I answer.
“I’m downstairs”, A voice says and it surprises me. The driver’s accent sounds like Home. He’s quiet on the other side too. He must hear Home in me too.
The concierge (my concierge) tilts his head as I make my way across the lobby.
“Going out again, Miss. Prince”, the concierge asks, “Should I call you a car?”
He definitely wants my attention. He never pays any of the other tenants this much attention. He probably knew what I did for a living and was curious. If he was interested he should say so. This isn’t the kind of lifestyle where you can be coy.
“What’s your name”, I ask
“Marc.”
“I have a car waiting for me outside, Marc. Can you get the door?”
“Yes, Miss. Prince.”
He runs around the concierge desk and opens the door. I offer him a tip with my business card tucked between it. He probably couldn’t afford a regular session, but Paris had schedule a few pay-what-you-can ones for next month.
+++
There is a black town car out front with The Gilded Cage’s logo. The driver doesn’t get out to open my door which is a point against him.
“Seraphina Grigori?”
The way he says my name with a native accent is jarring.
“Yes.”
“Where are you from?” He isn’t actually asking me that. He is asking how I’d survived the war.
“The Order. I was in the school.”
As I suspect that’s all he needs to hear to know I’d survived with my sisters in the basement of a bombed out school. We were the last of what used to be a proud devout nation. He looks older—he probably escaped in the 70s or 80s before it became impossible.
“Poor child”, he says, “If client or manager give you trouble you let me know.”
“Don’t worry…I’m the trouble.”
He smiles and pulls up in front of the Grand MBC Hotel. My date is actually standing out front. I recognize him instantly from the picture The Gilded Cage escort agency sent me. He’s maybe in his late fifties with perfectly styled gray hair and a sharp tailored suit. He’s smiling and full of nervous energy. He keeps looking at his watch. He didn’t like to be kept waiting.
I reach for the door but it’s locked.
“You”, the driver says, “Give extras to the driver? We can go somewhere nice when I pick you up. I’ll tell you all about home. Don’t be shy”
I take my hand off the door, sit back and focus on his eyes in the rearview mirror
“Open the door. My date is waiting.” I tell him.
He sucks his teeth and pops the locks.
I wait.
“Go on. Get out”, he says, “I got other girls to pick up”
“Open my door”, I tell him, “I don’t like to ask twice.”
He wasn’t asking for the Dominant in me. I usually kept my need for control, order, respect and obedience to the confines of my dungeon or willing submissives. But sometimes, out in the real world, I have to wield it like a sword or a dagger.
The driver comes to open my door. I don’t even look at him as I make my way over to my client. His name is Archer….something. He’s tall so I see why he…picked me to be his date tonight.
“Look at you”, he says with a friendly smile. He gestures towards the building and we walk towards the entrance. I let him put his hand around my waist, “I think we’re going to have fun tonight. We’ve got a lot to celebrate. My company Loud Media, we mostly do niche cable television, just bought two big entertainment websites. Big business. You into entertainment?”
God, he talked a lot. At least he is acknowledging me. Better than the ones that just wanted a silent trophy with an ass they can grab.
I try to answer his question.
“Not really. I like Downtown Abbey.”
“Huh? How is that?”
“I just…like the footman”
He genuinely laughs and leads me into the hotel. We duck inside a packed ballroom. There is a D.J, open bar, games and actives set up. Loud Media’s logo is splashed everywhere. Everyone is fashionable dressed except for the few men in suits. A few people are crowded around what I think are D-list celebrities. It looks like a fun event. Too bad I wasn’t hired to have fun. My job was to tend to …what was his name? Archer.
“Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” Archer asks.
He wants to pretend like this is a real date. Fine. It was his $1200.00.
“I like to read, dance and workout.”
“I can tell”, he says and he hand drifts a little over my belly, “What’ your name again?”
“Seraphina.”
“I love that name. It’s close to my daughter’s name. Do you go by anything else?”
I learned a long time ago to smile and laugh at a silly but doable request. It was what nice people did.
“My middle name is Athena.”
“Powerful. Let’s go with that for tonight.”
“Whatever you want”, I say and kiss him on the cheek.
Archer circles the large floor and has several exhausting tiny interactions with colleagues. I remember to smile and keep my hand on his. Sometimes he remembers to introduce me as his date, sometimes he just forgets I’m there. I only speak when he prompts me. Sometimes I make agreeable sounds to emphasize his jokes or a compliment he receives.
Apparently there is some big presentation and everyone filters into the mega ballroom. We get escorted to the balcony where the executive box is. He keeps his hand protectively against my back as we climb the stairs. He’s a decent guy. He probably hired an escort because he is too busy to date or he couldn’t find what he wanted in the real world and wanted a fantasy for tonight. That was okay. I knew all about fantasies.
A loud cheer goes up when he enters. He and his colleagues greet each other roughly and exchange inside jokes. Strangely they are all men. He introduces me as his date and I make sure not to get to comfortable on the plush seats. I make sure I’m attentive and affectionate enough for his colleagues to be envious. Usually men his age want me to play up the infatuation and sex appeal but Archer seemed to want the ‘trophy girlfriend’.
There is an open bar and a small buffet of amazing looking food. I’d left New Aeterna so late I hadn’t had a chance to eat. Archer would probably be okay if I asked to eat something. The Gilded Cage didn’t allow eating on the job unless it was written into the client contract. It’s not like I can ask. I don’t risk it. Somehow rule-breaking always gets back to them. I needed the high-dollar clients The Gilded Cage sent my way.
A photographer comes in to get some candid shots. One of the younger executives request to have a photo with everyone wearing a dress surrounding him. He tells me I get to ‘be in front’ because I’m the prettiest, which he must think is a compliment.
Eventually the lights dim and a splashy presentation begins. There is lot of talk about business, mergers and meeting goals. They mention the merger including a livestream site called CraveLive that sounds sort of interesting. Two of the men leave the booth to go speak on stage. One of them is the CFO of CraveLive. His date is a model/influencer who talks through the entire presentation.
When it’s over we head back downstairs for more drinking and dancing. Well. Drinking and networking. Archer doesn’t seem to want to dance. I’m supposed to get a 15-mintute break but Archer talks so much I never get a word in.
“Okay, Athena some of the guys are getting together upstairs for a little after party. You Ready?”
Like I had a choice.
“Yes”, I say with a smile. I only have an hour left anyway.
“You are very beautiful”, he says when we are in the elevator, “You’ve been great. Do you model?”
“Yes”, I lie because it’s easier.
“Young and beautiful in the city. Enjoy it while you can.”
The smell of cigars in the hotel suite brings back memories of my short stint in the Marines. I sit on Archer’s lap while he and the others tell stories about their early career days. It’s a more intimate gathering so I really have to really listen so I can laugh or ask leading questions when they include.
The other dates seem to be in actually relationships. One is a model/influencer and the other is a Broadway actress. I’m so curious about them but I can’t take my attention away from Archer. I fawn over him, pour shots, take pictures for the group and flirt. Once the men get talking their stories were actually funny and interesting.
Archer finally makes his good-byes and we leave. Once we are in the hallway he takes out a key card and opens a room a few doors down.
“You can pay me out here.” I didn’t like going into hotel rooms unless I had to or I got a really good offer.
“I know the rules. You look like you could relax for a little bit. Besides my checkbook is in here.”
I put my guard up and follow him in.
The room is huge with a space-gray modern decorations. It has a full balcony with a fire pit, a wet bar and an amazing view of downtown.
“We’ve got…8 minutes left”, he says siting down and offering me a pricy bottle of sparkling water. It’s sealed but I still don’t take it. Archer has been nice and respectful but I can’t let my guard down. So many guys turn into absolute monsters during the last ten minutes.
I move one of the dining room chairs to the center of the room. “Okay, Love. Let me help you relax for our last few minutes together”
He sits so obediently. I push up my dress a little and straddle him. I make sure one of my garters is showing just to make him feel special. He inhales the cotton candy perfume. I smell sweet. Indulgent. Edible. I loosen his tie and worked my hands into his muscle. He is tense and I work what muscles I can remember from my very (very) expired massage therapy license. He slides a finger under one of the garters and that sends a slight panic through me.
“You had a good night”, I get off his lap so he can’t touch me there. I stand behind him and work his shoulders for a few more minutes. Then I put a finger under his chin and tilt his head up, “We’re out of time.”
He smiles and pads off to get his checkbook. I breathe. This date had gone well. This made three in a row with no issues.
God,
This hotel room is stunning. What would it be like to be the person he shared it with? I was off the clock now. I could probably convince him to continue our evening in the bedroom or a bar. He seems like a nice guy. I don’t love that is a father but it means he isn’t afraid of commitment. I could flirt and figure out what he wanted in a companion. Then I could give it to him. After one date, I’d make sure every moment he spent with me felt like Christmas.
Then maybe he’d offer to buy me a dress so we could go out. Then maybe he’d pay my mortgage for a month so I could work less and spend more time with him. Then it would turn into two months. Then maybe three. Maybe he’d invite me on an all-expenses paid vacation. Guys like him usually take one big trip a year and I’d be the perfect vacation girlfriend. I wouldn’t even mind if his daughter came. After a few nights of hot international sex I’d be guaranteed a new rich husband. It wouldn’t be love but I’m sure it would turn into a special relationship.
It plays out so perfectly in my head. I’d watched more than a few escorts turn clients into husbands. They seemed like fun mutually beneficial marriages. I realize this might be my last chance. I’d be twenty-nine in a few months and was already aging out of sugar baby eligibility.
What would it be like to sit on that huge balcony with Archer and reminisce about his success tonight? I could be the wife everyone was envious of. I’d make sure I always looked pictured perfect for him. I’d have a huge house and an entire staff to do what I tell them.
Men like Archer always have an army of lawyers buzzing around him…with their suits and fancy degrees. I bet I could seduce one, chain him to my bed and turn him into an obedient little pain slut. I could have my way with every night-
I squeeze my legs tighter. Kinky thoughts like that were probably why I was never going to be a kept woman.
But I should at least try.
I bring my stockings off and bring my underwear down and around one ankles. Fuck being subtle. Then I hear the toilet flush and lose my nerve. I pull everything back up and sit demurely.
Archer comes out the bathroom and rummages in his wallet for a check.
“For you.”
“This can’t be all you have for me”, I tease.
He smiles and pulls two fifty dollar bills from his wallet. I slip the tip into my dress. He kisses me. A sudden platonic peck on the lips.
“Stay, Athena”, he says, “Now that business is all done with. There is a champagne bar downtown we could check out. I’m curious where your accent is from.”
The check feels damp in my hand. If I played this right I’d never have to escort again. I’d never have to work long nights and days. Never have to pile up bills or ignore collection calls. I’d never have to watch all my money disappear to pay for college course.
“Athena?”
“Maybe next time.”
+3+
I take the subway to The Gilded Cage. I walk around back and head into the basement where the cash office is. The raucous adult entertainment multiplex takes up an entire block. It’s a high-end strip club, cigar lounge and dungeon—that somehow only really serves straight men.
There is a long line at the cash office. Everyone is on their phones. I try to read the book Paris put on my phone but I hate looking at the screen.
It takes an hour for me to get to the front. The old Russian woman working the window takes the check. She looks up the contract on her old boxy computer. She runs some calculations then passes me an envelope with my cut. It’s $800 dollars in 20’s.
“Have anything bigger?” I ask in my cobbled together Russian.
“You get what you get.” she says giving me a dirty look.
Instead of heading back to the subway I go out back and bum cigarette. The craving hits hard all of a sudden. It probably has something to do with being around those cigars. A waitress offers me a Marlboro. She clocks the stuffed envelope in my hand.
“You should be careful carrying that.”
“I’ve got it.” I tell her
“You don’t have a purse?” She asks.
I shake my head.
“This is why we need fucking pockets on our dresses”, She says and I can tell she means it as a joke.
“I usually have my partner sew in hidden ones.”
She pretends to casually look away, “You used to work here right?”
“A few years ago”, I tell her, “In the dungeon. When I first came to the city”
I don’t know what about this girl makes me chatty. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to go home. Maybe it’s the wavy brown hair and dark eyes. She has a Long Island accent and soft curves. She seems nice but with a bit of fire. She’s my type but I get the feelings she’s straight.
“I heard you’re like a real Domme.”
The Dommes in the Gilded Cage dungeon were more like entertainers than Dominants. Dominance wasn’t mindset for them. They didn’t need to understand submission or have a desire for power or control. One of them must have told her about me.
“I guess.” I reply putting my cigarette out. This was an expensive habit I couldn’t pick up again.
“I’ve always been…curious about that kind of stuff. My fiancé said he’s open to trying it. Just to try something new.”
Fuck. Straight. Of course.
“New York is the best place for it. There are a ton of local clubs and meet-ups.”
“Cool.” She says.
I should leave, but this girl pulls me in. I decide to give her some advice.
“This thing you want. This lifestyle”, I explain “There are no gray areas. No innuendo or suggestive looks. You want to be Dominated you have to be direct, open and honest about what you want. It’s uncomfortable and awkward but necessary.”
“I understand.”
“Are a submissive?” I ask her.
“…I don’t know. I think so.”
“Do you want to find out?” I didn’t need to find out. I already knew this girl was submissive. She needed to be on her knees.
“I… do.”
“We could do a scene together”, I suggest feeling a little energized, “Do you want that?”
“I guess.”
“Yes or no answers only. Direct and open, remember?”
I try to smile so she’s not intimidated, but I’m sure I’m making it worse. Paris said I looked evil when I tried to smile.
“Yes.” She says.
Good girl
Then she continues, “But I’m not gay or anything. It’s just male Doms seem super intimidating.”
I sort of understood that. Professional male Doms were niche. If you wanted to make a real connection you had to find way onto the scene and get referrals. Paris said most straight men in the community were incels who confused Dominance with being Alphas. I also sort of understood that.
“I understand”, I tell her, “If we scene together we would only do what you’re comfortable with. For the record I don’t really care about labels. If you want to have sex with me I don’t think that makes you anything. It’s up to you.”
“Okay. I want to do this. Would it be strange if my fiancé was there? I’d feel more comfortable if he was involved too.”
I like that she is being open about what she wants. Why wait?
“Are you guys free tonight? We can play a little.” I suggest.
“For free?”
I tilt my head down slightly to face her, “I can’t charge for things I want to do to you. Hiring a Domme and engaging in the scene are two entirely different things.”
“Got it. I’m free after my shift. I just need to call Preston—my fiancé.”
“What’s your name”, I realize I haven’t asked.
“Tara.”
“Go back to work Tara. I’ll stick around.”
+++
My adrenaline high is long gone by the time her fiancé meets us outside.
I’d waited in the Mezzanine-level strip club for her shift to end. It had the best seats and the stages were close to the bar. I’d thrown around a few of the bills I’d just earned. Mostly to piss off the men inside. I was acquainted with most of the dancers, we sometimes spent hours in line waiting to cash out for the night.
I wasn’t the kind of client the managers liked the girls to focus on but they still danced for me. They were mostly bubbly petite 19-year olds with glitter dusted thighs. They knew how to be sexy and I was envious of their flexibility and control. I kept my hands on the back of my chair as one girl lowered her perfectly curve ass into my lap while another ran her hands through my hair. I was sure to follow the rules; look but don’t touch. Which got harder when she started to move her hips in perfect rhythm to the music. There was a party of really young men seated next to me who had already broken clubs rules; they’d taken out their phones and started recording. They were getting a little rowdy (and obviously horny).
The girl settled into my lap but her eyes are on the guys. I got it. This was not about me or my money. She was using me to put a show on for them. She tilted her head up and I tilted mine down just enough so we just barely touched. I should have looked away but I didn’t. Might as well help a pretty girl make a little extra money. I let my breathing increase and focused on her smooth perfectly round breast filling her bikini. Her pasty underneath was slipping a little and I caught a corner of her flushed nipple. It was so hard not to move my hands. The things I could do to this girl. Teach her what happens when she tries to use me. With one hand I could have have her humiliated, coming and begging for more while the entire club watched.
The group of guys watching started whistling and I didn’t like it. My stack of 20’s was getting pretty light. I’d indulged way too much. When she realized I was done spending she headed over to the guys. I saw the bouncer making his way over to the guys. I decided to extricate myself in case the men blame me for getting them kicked out.
No one stops me from taking my whisky on the rocks outside. I stand outside the employee entrance and embrace the cold. Tara comes outside at 10am on the dot. She has on a faded leather jacket, sweater dress and clean platform sneakers.
“Ready?” I ask wishing I knew her better but also not caring. I needed this. It was hard finding decent submissives to play with in the city. The experienced ones just wanted to use my connections to get into exclusive parties and clubs.
“Yes.” Tara says.
“Good. Take this inside”, I say giving her my glass, “And hold this for me.”
I give her the envelope of cash and she puts it in her purse. We stand outside until her fiancé arrives on foot. His name is Preston. He looks like the guys I see when I visit Paris on campus. Scholarly. Plain. Dependable. Preston and Tara look cute together and they seem excited. They are also young. You have to be 21 to work at The Gilded Cage so I don’t bother asking.
“I need some caffeine”, I say taking her fiancé’s arm and steering him towards the 7-11 on the corner. Tara follows us inside. I don’t let Presto’s arm go the entire time. I instruct him to by me 2 red bulls, fruit and some waters for them. I pay in cash and have Tara hold on to the receipt.
I also pay for the cab back to my condo. When we arrive I make sure Preston and I remain a few feet in front of Tara. If she has submissive urges she should get used to following. Once we are all in the elevator I hold it on the first floor.
“Tara. Preston. Once we’re in my home I expect you to use my title. Understood”
“Yes, Mistress”, Tara says. She doesn’t seem new to this. Maybe she read a lot.
“Usually we’d need a few hours to talk about wants and limits... but for tonight how about we just stick to bondage and teasing. How’s that? No impact play.”
“Sound good.” Tara says but quickly corrected herself, “That sounds good, Mistress.”
“Preston?”
“What about sex?” he asks because he is a straight man, “Is that on the table?”
I turn my gaze back to Tara. This was really up to her.
“There can be since there is no money
being exchanged. I’m open to either one of you having sex with me. Protection
is required at all times. That includes dental damns. Of course we’ll only involve
sex if you are both okay with it. I can
take you to the courtyard if you two want to talk alone.”
“I think we’re game”, Preston says looking at Tara, “I think we’re also open to
you with either of us of us”
“I’m not saying that will happen this
session but I’ll keep that in mind. What about anal? I have unopened
attachments. I never share with the same partners.”
“We’ve never tried that”, Tara admits. She’s quick to answer. I like that.
“We’ll take that off the table for
tonight. If anything doesn’t feel good or makes you uncomfortable say ‘red’ and
we’ll stop. “Yellow’ if we need to slow down. Green…well you get it.”
They nod and I take the elevator off hold. I stand between them and let each of them hold my hand. I need this. This is going to be fun. To think I could have spent the entire night underneath…what was his name.
+4+
Once we are inside I give them a minute to get comfortable but no to comfortable.
“This place is amazing, Mistress”, Tara says taking in the high ceilings and open space. The raised floor in front of the window gives a stunning view of the East River.
“Thank you. The bathroom is in the bedroom. You just got off work so take a minute if you need to. There is stuff under the sink. We’ll stay out here.”
She nods and walks awkwardly to my bedroom. These was absolutely nothing exciting in there except my messy vanity. I take the time to find a fork and eat some of the mixed berries.
“Escorting must pay well”, Preston says.
“It and my countless other side-jobs. I got a really good deal. So. ..um...what do you do?”
Fuck. I always tripped over small talk.
“Bank teller. I want to be an actor though.”
“Bring that case tor me”, I tell him pointing with my fork to the black travel case I’d purchased for my new Artisanal 100% vegan leather BDSM equipment. He dutifully fetches it. He’s not as quick to follow order like Tara. I give him a break since this is new for him.
“Are you in law school?” he’d stopped to peer at an open books on the corner desk.
“No. I let my sub use that area to study. He shouldn’t have left his books here though. He’ll need to be punished.”
I had to think of something appropriate. Paris’ final semester of law school is already stressing him out, so I’d have to make it something quick but humiliating. I could schedule a full body wax…but that was expensive. I’d just make him shave.
“You really take this seriously.” Preston says. It sounds more like a snide comment. Like maybe he isn’t sold on the D/s idea. That’s Tara’s problem---not mine.
“It’s a lifestyle. We both get our needs met.”
“Is the sex really better?”
I don’t know why that makes me laughs.
“No. I mean it’s not about sex anyway. It’s about control. Sex is just a tool I sometimes use to control my sub.”
“So you’re not fucking every day?”
I thought about this. I’d let Paris fuck me maybe a handful of times this year. I hadn’t even really noticed. I’m sure he did. Especially since we were experimenting with chastity. He’d never complained or been bratty about it once. Probably because of school. Not that any of this was Preston’s business. I just met him.
“When I want to have sex …well the term is studs but I don’t like that term. I just have other people for that.”
“What the point then?” he reaches a hand over the counter and takes one of my blueberries.
He hadn’t used the title once since I’d asked him. He’s bold and doesn’t seem like the type to follow orders. I’d guess we’d have to be partners tonight. Looks like Tara had found herself a natural Dominant. Maybe I could turn him into her Dom tonight.
“The point?” I repeat his question, “Is I have handsome man with every bit of defiance trained out of him to clean my apartment, do my shopping, paying my taxes and worship me three days a week for the rest of my life. Plus I get to indulge in a little emotional and physical sadomasochism. “
“See if I did that I’d get called a misogynist.”
God. Was he also a fucking law student? What was that word Paris has used once? Contrarian.
“No”, I say pushing the couch and coffee table (without his help) to the back of the room, “Because if Tara did all those things for you then it would then be your job to take care of her physical, emotional and mental needs. That is a loving relationship if it’s consensual.”
“Okay, but if I spank her for not being a good housewife that makes me the villain.”
“No. Not if it’s something you both agreed on as a punishment if she doesn’t follow your rules. I think it’s’ fine. I actually think it’s kind of hot.”
“You spank your submissive.”
I shake my head and move the side table and lamps out the way.
“It’s not something we are into together.” Being raised in a religious cult and all, “I have to get more creative with my punishments.”
‘Do you love your sub?”
So many fucking questions
Your
Mine
Those words got me a little wet.
“Yes.”
I dim the lights when Tara comes back in. Her hair is down and she’d put a little lip gloss on. I brush a stray curl back. She smells sweet like my favorite dry shampoo.
“Your hair is gorgeous”, I say admiring the loose curls, “Take your shoes off for me.”
She moves quickly.
“And you dress,”
She moves even faster.
“Good girl.”
I glance over at Preston who seems to already be enjoying this. Maybe we would all end up in bed tonight. I fold the dress neatly and set it on the couch.
Her body is soft with slight curves she tries to cover. That won’t due. She’s mine now and I will have access to all of her.
“Tara, I’m going to teach you three
positions. Preston, you tell me which one you like the most.”
He nods. For position one I have her on her knees. Two is her hands behind her
neck elbows out, it gives a rise to her breast. Three is forehead to the
ground.
“Which one?” I ask Preston while kissing the side of his cheek and neck as he decides. His eyes roll back slightly at the attention. I make sure Tara see this. I want her to see the attention she will get from me if pleases me.
“Two”, he says.
Tara instantly obeys and I can feel the heated thrill shared between them. Preston turns and I let him kiss me on the lips. I wonder how long has it been since he’s kissed another person. His quick tongue sweeps into my mouth and I lose focus for a second as he skims my lip with his teeth. His mouth trails to my cheek and down my neck.
“He’s so fucking good”, I tell Tara while Preston’s hands roam my body and up my dress, “I may have to keep him for myself tonight. Okay, Preston….let’s take a look at her.”
The two of us were having too much fun and I needed to shift the focus back to Tara. I take out the leather cuffs out of my case and wrap each one loosely around Tara’s wrist.
“What are you at, pet?” I ask her while fastening them. It takes her a while to realize what I am asking.
“Green.” She says.
I move past it not wanting to break the tension. I move her to stand on a slightly discrete ‘X’ I’d painted on the floor.
“Raise your arms for me.”
When she does I connect the slim chain between the cuffs to a lead and attach the lead to an anchored exposed pipe. It’s reinforced and not a part of the original architecture. Next I retrieve an adjustable metal bar with built in cuffs for her ankles.
“This is going to keep you pretty legs nice an open for us. I want your knees apart. Good.” I secure her ankles and the spreader bar forces her ankles a modest six-inches apart, “What do you think Preston? Wide enough?”
“Um…no.” He says.
“Tell her”, I mouth.
“Wider”, he says and there is that thrill again.
I adjust it to a much less modest length. She was fighting a little to keep her balance. If she relaxes and engages her core she’ll be fine.
I put the keys to the cuffs and spreader bar around my neck. Just another reminder who is in control. I give Preston the honor of blindfolding her. She’s starting to relax. Her trust and submission is beautiful. I’m impressed. She has definitely dabbled more than she’s let on to her fiancé.
“Listen to me Tara this body is mine—ours-- for the next…44 minutes. That means you don’t come without our permission understood?”
She nods her head.
“When I ask you a question. When either of us asks you a question it’s Yes, Mistress or No. I really don’t want to have to tell you again.”
“Yes, Mistress.” She says.
I rummage through my case and pull out a pair of soft skin-like gloves with raised grips on the fingertips. Preston follows suit and slips a pair on. I motion for Preston to stand on one side of her while I’m on the other.
I gesture for him to follow my lead
I lift two fingers to Tara’s right check and he does the same to her left. I trace her soft profile and chin—he does the same. I run the route again before sliding a finger down her long neck and over her clavicle. Her body trembles form the light touches. Her hips shift trying to speed up our trajectory.
I run my fingers up to her heavy sensitive breast, she starts to moan and I can tell Preston is getting impatient. I can’t help myself and kiss the top of her breast and down underneath h the soft curve. I wrap my tongue around and suck the hardening tip. It makes her whole body tense. I wonder if she can come like this. Every girl who swore they could was usually faking it but Tara seemed different.
“Is this okay.” I ask.
“Yes…oh God…I thought…” I reluctantly take my mouth from her body. I can’t move on without clarifying.
“Did you think I was Preston?”
“Yes”
“How are you?”
“…green.”
I decide it’s probably best I stay on her right side. That way she always knows who is touching her. Preston is drinking the scene in, he’s probably never wanted to fuck her more in his life. If he wanted to take her he had to give a little more first. Dom’s always got what they want but they have to give more than they take
I vaguely register the woodsy smell drafting in from the windows. After a few more strokes of her belly my hands drift lower until Preston and I both slide a finger into her. Her pussy was engorged and her lips so swollen they parted slightly and made for a very easy entrance. I wanted to bring her to the edge and Preston follows my lead. I focus on her g-sport and gesture for him to focus on her clit. Which he only sort of seems to know how to find. She starts to whimper and her pussy grips my fingers tight. It had been too long since I fucked a beautiful woman. She needed something that would fill her up and then some. I had a new strap-on somewhere in my closet but it would take forever to find.
“Fuck. I know how you feel right”, now I said, “You want to be satisfied and full.”
She nods
“You want your boyfriend’s dick. I can see it in his pants I bet it’s big.
I unzip Preston pants making sure she can hear the belt. He’s rock hard and on the much larger side.
“I was right,” They are both breathing hard so desperate for release. A release only one of them was going to get it. I just didn’t know which one I was going to fuck. Tara was soaked and very close. I actually liked keeping her on edge. I didn’t want to edge Preston but fucking him would be a waste. He’d been done in seconds.
The ‘professional’ in me new it was maybe too soon to fuck Tara’s fiancée in front of her in case they really couldn’t handle it. I could have him go down on me. She could listen and I’d gage her reaction for sharing her partner.
My eyes start to water and I catch just a hint of smoke. Preston seems to notice too. The fuck. Is something burning?
“Do you have a candle light?”
“No.”
There is a beat of silence before the fire alarm starts to blare. Then I heard a bunch of people shouting next door.
“What? What’s going on? Red”, Tara says,
“It’s just—“, before I can finish Tara starts to panic. I hear my neighbors in the hallway and some guy screaming ‘fuck fuck fuck’.
Tara starts to fight the restraints. She starts twisting her arms and ankles which is only going to cause irritation. The panic in Preston’s eyes turns to straight up anger.
“Get her the fuck down.”
“Calm down, Tara”, I say ignoring Preston. I can’t get the key in if she’s moving, “I’ll get you down.”
She doesn’t listen and keeps fidgeting. Preston shoves me out of the way and snatches the keys. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and keeps putting the wrong key in the wrong lock.
I calm myself down first. After all I’ve been through a little fire is nothing I push Preston out of the way much rougher than I mean to. Tara is shouting at both of us and I can see smoke and the flickers of flame from the balcony next to mine.
“Get her down.” He shouts again.
I slip a finger under the quick release inside the cuffs. I let her balance on me while I quickly remove the locks on the spreader bar. Someone pounds on my door and I feel Tara tense just before I set her down. I open the front door and the hallway is filled with smoke. Tara and Preston rush past me and towards the stairs.
“Shit”, Tara hadn’t had time to put her clothes back on. I grab her clothes and purse from the counter and follow them down the stairwell. They both move so slow. Around the 25th floor Tara realizes she is naked and starts crying. Poor thing.
“This is the worst night.”
“It’s okay, love. We’re most at the bottom.” When we reach the lobby I instruct Preston to stay on her other side and we do our best to use our bodies to cover hers. There is still a chill in the air outside and three firetrucks have already pulled up.
I realize what I though was her clothes was just her scarf and purse. I forgot I’d folded her dress and put it on the couch. The scarf only kind of wrapped around her waist.
Tara is panicked and I lead her away from the crowd. She’d gone from an intense scene to absolute panic without a transition.
“Why did I do this”, she says
“You didn’t anything wrong. You panicked. That’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m so sorry that happened. I’ve got you now.”
“My clothes.”
“I just need you to make it a few more steps, okay? I’ll get you warm.”
She nods and with Preston’s help I lead her to the commercial side of the building. She panics a little (who wouldn’t) but I lead them down the steps to the sub ground level and open the doors to New Aeterna.
The lights flick on automatically. I hurry to turn the heat on for her.
“Have a seat.” I gesture to the lobby.
I make my into the tiny back office and grab one of the black silk robes we kept for client use. Preston seems to have taken a hint from me and is comforting his fiancé on one of the oversized chaises.
“You can keep the robe”, I explain, “It suits you.”
I’d never seen a woman wear one. It was rare to get a female sub who was interested in commercial services.
“That wasn’t at all how I wanted the night to end.” Tara confesses.
“Me neither.”
I’d pictured both of them in my bed and Tara making breakfast for Preston and I in the morning wearing just a slight blush
“What do you think happened?” Tara asked
I shrug it off. There were still a few lofts in the building people solely used for parties. Some younger guys had moved into the unit next to mine. They looked like they had money and paid me no mind because I wasn’t tiny and twenty-one.
“How are you feeling about tonight?” I put the focus back on her, “Before the alarm went off.”
“Yellow”, Preston says
“Green”, Tara says and that seems to surprise Preston.
“I just didn’t like not being able to get you down”, Preston admits. They seem to really care about each other. Preston is protective but he is never going to be able to give Tara what she needs. Which is perfect for me.
I pick a business card up from the table and hand it to Tara.
“That’s why you should never try anything with equipment you’re not familiar with. I hope this doesn’t make you think negatively about the scene. If you’re comfortable we can pick this up later. We could rent a hotel room on a first floor. I’ll pay.”
Paris would get pouty if I even thought of wasting money like that. I could get Dom Hidalgo to pay. I could just tell him I needed it to record some videos for him or something.
“What can we do down here.” Tara asks peeking behind the dungeon door. I liked having people who weren’t clients here. This space was designed for my uber wealthy and masculine clients. I hated that they never appreciated how much easy access they had to their fantasies.
“I can give you a tour and that’s about it. I can’t practice afterhours. Even then it’s limited here. No penetration, kissing or touching. There is one rule I will break.”
I got back into the office and grab a bottle of leftover sparkling white wine from earlier this evening. I also take a single serve carton of the cheap orange juice we kept on hand for the BDSM and Brunch speaker series Paris insisted on putting on. He just loved to entertain the guest speakers while I had to put up with needy clients who always fought over who got to sit next to me.
Tara makes the mimosas and the three of us talk for an hour about BDSM and the community in New York. They both seem into it and I like the idea of having a straight couple in my black book—well red phone.
It’s just past midnight when I order a car to take them home. We make plans to meet up at their house (in fucking Jersey City) since their roommate is out of town. I start to clean up after they leave. Nearly a second after the door shuts Tara dashes back in with her purse. She reaches into it and hands me my money from earlier tonight.
“Thank you.” I’d completely forgotten I’d given it to her. She could have easily kept it for a few days and taken a few bills before returning it. I wouldn’t have noticed.
“Thank you”, she says. I can see the cab outside but she’s still looking at me. I think I know that look and kiss her very briefly. She smiles underneath my lips and I let her pull me in for another.
“Maybe we should meet without your fiancé”, I say and I only kind of mean it. I’ve always wanted to be a mistress but Paris insists it would ruin his career prospects. Tara doesn’t answer, leaving it all a little open ended. She’s coy when she dashes back out and I can’t stop thinking about how her ass looked in that robe. Fuck, she’d left me wanting. Such a fucking tease.
I close up and head back to the building. The firetrucks are still outside. My neighbor Amelia and her roommates are sitting in a circle out front. Amelia moves over to make room for me but I don’t sit.
“The jocks down the hall set the oven on fire while trying to do a YouTube challenge”, She explains, “They are checking the structure. Rumor is there was only damage to the kitchen but hey threw the flaming pan out the window.”
I nod and head back to New Aeterna. I didn’t want to have to make conversation or explain why I’m so dressed up. I settle into the back office and turn the computer on.
The digital account books are open. I carefully type in the money I made tonight (minus what I spent at the strip club) just like I’ve seen Paris do. The numbers shuffle around and a report get generated--- which means I’ve done it right. I open the internet not sure where to go. I click on the websites that are always underneath the search bar. They are all just news website and boring business BDSM message boards.
I sit back and the invitation to my high school reunion catches my attention. Someone spent way too much money on the soft embossed envelopes and glossy invitations.
The reunion is in two months. I’d already started upping my workouts and changing my diet because I wanted the abs I’d briefly had in the military. I’d already RVSP’D with Paris (much to his chagrin) as my plus one but he was being such a little bitch lately. Maybe I should take Sven?
I thought about what the reunion meant.
Did I really want to go back there? To that town?
For the first time it occurs to me I have no idea how far away from…home I am.
I Google it and it shows I am just under 200 miles away from St. Lilith’s.
I start to wonder if he is still there.
I google Helios Thantos’ name and nothing comes up.
Last time I’d seen Helios I was 21-years old and had been freshly kicked out the Marines after going on a seven-day alcohol fueled bender.
I’d poured myself back into St. Lilith’s with a buzz cut and an extra 30 pounds of muscle. I went to Helios because that was all I knew to do. Helios had asked me what the fuck I’d done to myself, then we fucked for two days straight.
“I’m so fucking hard up”, he’d said after what would be our last time having sex.
“It’s because you’re too afraid to leave this town.” I’d teased him, “There are millions of horny girls passed the town limits.”
He’d looked offended
“No. I just feel like I fucked a guy with a really tight cunt. How long is it going to take to grow it out?”
He hadn’t had a problem the past two days we’d been in bed. Someone had probably said something. Helios then took a drag from the joint I’d acquired while hitchhiking back to St. Lilith’s. He passed it back to me, it must have been weak shit because I never felt the effects.
“You are going to grow it back, right?” He’d said again.
In that moment I remembered how it felt when Helios used to tug on my hair and what it felt like when he kicked me in the ribs. In the two days we’d been together he’d already teased me about how slowly I filled out the job applications. He’d gotten annoyed when I asked him questions about computers and I’d just let the mean things he said about my body during sex roll off because of how good the sex was.
I could have stayed with Helios. I could helped out around the house with the cooking and cleaning. Let him have my disability check. I could have become his girl (and everyone else’s) again. I sucked at fending for myself. I would have stayed there if Helios hadn’t spoken up again.
“Are you going to grow your hair out again?” He’d said it for the third fucking time.
I realized I could not spend the rest of my life with him. I couldn’t let that bastard grab my hair
I hadn’t seen Helios in seven long years. I wondered how the years had changed Helios. If he thought about me? I thought about him all the time. Every choice I’d made I did so I wouldn’t end up needing him again.
Fuck it.
Why wonder?
Author’s Note
Sera decides to take a late night road trip…