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After his recent experiences with Deanna & Allison, George was almost relieved when it was Erica that contacted him next. The telephone call was short and to the point. “Report at 7 o’clock this evening, please,” Erica had said. “Don’t make any plans for after that.”
George had no opportunity to reply before Erica hung up.
Erica’s call was followed by one from Allison. She gave no indication that she had recognised George at their session but her tone had changed dramatically from the diffident one that George had become used to. “You wanted to discuss my accounts, I think. Why don’t you come over this morning? About ten o’clock would suit me. Is that all right for you? Good!”
George barely had time to draw breath, much less answer, before Allison hung up.
George wasn’t sure about how he was going to cope with meeting Allison again after their encounter of the day before but he convinced himself that she could not have recognised him on the mask he was wearing and without hearing him speak. Even so, it was with some trepidation that he turned up at her office for their discussion.
Allison met him at the front door of her shop. She was no longer wearing the rather dowdy clothes that he was used to seeing her in. Rather she seemed to have taken some style hints from Erica. “Come in, come in,” Allison called when she saw him hovering outside. “Let’s get on with it. I have exactly half an hour, so let’s get started.”
“Yes, M..” George just managed to stop himself before addressing her as ‘Mistress’. He went on, “Yes, of course. I have the figures here.”
“Excellent,” Allison exclaimed, evidently enjoying her new found confidence. “Now, there were three things that I wanted to check. First, have you assessed the tax liability, secondly I wanted make sure we are providing for adequate depreciation and finally I want to be sure that the annual returns are going to be ready to be filed on time. We don’t want to incur any penalties, do we?”
“What?” George, who had been thinking back to his experiences at Allison’s hands the previous day, was snapped back to attention by the word ‘penalties’.
“Penalties,” Alison repeated. “For late filing.”
“Ah, no, of course not,” said George recovering his composure. “Err, ah, oh, I think you’ll see here,” he brought out his own file of documents, “that I have the numbers required. It’s only a matter of transcribing them onto the appropriate forms. And I can do that as soon as you approve them.” George was surprised at the ease that he gave way to the newly assertive Allison but if she saw any difference in his behaviour she gave no notice of it.
“Good. Well if you run through the numbers I’m sure we can get this put to bed quite quickly.”
“Errm, yes, well.” Two days before, George had been busily trying to avoid any contact with Allison but now the idea of ‘bed’ sounded distinctly attractive. He still wasn’t sure though whether her appearance at Erica’s had been part of some plan of Erica’s, a coincidence, or what. For now, he thought, the safest thing was to just get on with the job and keep everything on a professional footing. He caught his eyes wandering down to Allison’s ankles. Actually, he thought, she has got quite good legs and I could imagine……
“Can we just finish this?” Allison snapped him back to where his attention should be.
“Yes, of course,” George responded apologetically. “Of course.”
“And then I wondered if you might like to join me for dinner?”
For George this was all going too fast and he tried to shy away from the proposal. In any case he could hardly tell Erica that he wouldn’t be there that evening. “Well, of course, I’d like to but, well, ah, .. yes, I do have quite a few end of month reports to complete and they need to be in by tomorrow.. That’s the real problem. Sorry.”
“Never mind. Do you think you’ll get them all in on time?”
“Oh yes,” said George with confidence, “I’m sure I shall.”
“Good,” said Allison. “In which case, I’m sure you’ll be free for dinner tomorrow night. How about that?”
George, realising that he was trapped, had no option but to agree. “Err, yes. That will be fine. Yes.”
“Excellent,” Allison responded, “You can pick me up about eight.”
“Yes,” said George. “Yes, of course.”
George, still confused by the change in Allison’s nature, made his way to Erica’s as he had been instructed.
When he arrived at Erica’s house, she was there to greet him. She waved him through to one of the rooms at the back of the house and told him to undress. As usual he took his clothes and locked them in the small cupboard at the back of the room. Just like before he stood as he had been told; facing the wall and with his hands on the top of his head.
This was the worse part, thought George. He felt so foolish like this. It wasn’t bad once things got started but right now he felt as though he could easily run away. At least, he could have done if his clothes weren’t locked in that cupboard.
He heard the door behind him open and shut. It was Erica, he assumed, coming in. He didn’t turn around.
“Well done,” he heard Erica’s voice say. “You do seem to be getting the idea.” He was beginning to be wary when she praised him – it usually meant that something more difficult was about to be introduced. “Now keep still.”
George stood motionless as he felt Erica pull a rubber hood over his head. She smoothed it carefully into place and pulled up the zip at the back. The scent of the rubber filled his nostrils as the rubber stretched tightly across his face.
Mouth open!” she ordered.
He knew what was coming next; the hard rubber ball that filled his mouth and pressed down on his tongue and the tight leather straps that cut into the corners of his lips. He gave an involuntary grunt as she tightened the strap. ”Silence,” she snapped in the clipped manner he had come to expect. He was disappointed to be gagged. It meant that whatever else she had planned he wouldn’t be spending the evening worshipping her feet.
“Now, listen,” she said. “I am entertaining a friend this evening and I need you to wait on us.” George whimpered at the prospect of someone else being involved in their scene. “Don’t worry,” she went on, understanding his concerns, “you won’t be recognised. Your mask will help but this will be even better.” She drew back a curtain from across the alcove at the end of the room. Behind it, to George’s shock, was a mannequin dressed in a traditional maid’s uniform, black dress, white apron, cap and all.
George at once understood her intentions and grunted in protest. He’d expected to be confronted with enforced cross dressing at some time, given what he’d learned about female domination, but he hadn’t really thought it would happen yet.
“Don’t you dream of defying me,” Erica scolded, dealing him a blow to the thighs with her riding crop. “You can put those clothes on and be ready by the time I come back here or you can leave and not come back. This is well within your limits, so there will be no argument. Besides, you said you didn’t approve of Deanna as my maid. You can take her place.”
She didn’t wait for his response but turned on her heel and left the room, locking the door behind her. George sank down on the chair, confused and embarrassed. He thought how ridiculous he would look in the uniform. But then, he thought, I must look pretty ridiculous already. In the end he could not bare the thought of not being allowed back into Erica’s service. He started to undress the mannequin.
As he did so, his concerns grew. It wasn’t just the dress and the apron, he discovered, as he removed them from the mannequin he found the dummy was wearing a bra, panties and corset as well as stockings. Resignedly, he undressed the mannequin and started to put the clothes on.
As could be expected, Erica had taken care to ensure that it would all fit. He started with the bra and panties. The panties were bad enough, although the silky material did feel coolly pleasant against his cock, but the bra made him feel increasingly foolish. As he wrestled it into place, trying to fasten it behind his back he realised that the cups had been padded to provide him with an ample if not entirely natural looking bosom.
Next came the corset, an elasticated waspie that cinched his waist in, and the stockings. The waspie felt extremely odd. Although he had been put into various sorts of bondage since his involvement with Erica, the clinging, compressing sensation of the corset was something new and while he hadn’t been keen to fall in with Erica’s instructions, he had to admit that he enjoyed the sensation. The stockings felt peculiar too. Why on earth did women wear the things?
He pulled on the dress, stepping into it as though it were a pair of trousers. It took something of a struggle to get the dress zipped up at the back but eventually he did it, sweating profusely inside the rubber hood that covered his head. Finally he tied the white apron around his waist and, although he wasn’t sure what was required, he went back to stand with his hands on his head, facing the wall, in the same way that he had been when Erica had left.
It wasn’t long before Mistress Erica reappeared. George felt he could almost hear her smile of satisfaction that he had done as he had been told. “Turn around,” she ordered. He did so. She looked him over critically and gave a sigh. “Oh well,” she said. “I suppose it is your first time.” Erica fussed around him for a while, straightening his dress and apron before appearing somewhat satisfied. “You’ve forgotten the shoes,” she said, gesturing to a pair of high heeled, lace-up shoes in the corner of the alcove. George put them on, standing awkwardly in them as she looked at him again. “Oh yes, of course,” she said. “The wig and cap. Do come along.”
George shuffled across to the mannequin, precarious in his new footwear. He reached up to the dummy’s head and took the wig and cap, seating them both on his own, rubber clad scalp, feeling more foolish than ever.
Erica looked him over again. “Well, I suppose you’ll do,” she said. “Now shuffle off to the kitchen. You’ll find a trolley with some drinks and food on it. Bring it through into the lounge. My guest has arrived and will no doubt want some refreshment.”
George found the trolley without difficulty but pushing it and walking in his high heeled shoes was another matter.
George had half imagined that Erica’s guest would be another male submissive, another client for her “therapy”, so he was more than a little surprised to see Erica deep in conversation with a rather short, wide, grey haired, middle aged woman. She looked more like a member of the Women’s Institute than a dominatrice.
“Splendid. Refreshments!” the newcomer enthused as George teetered through the door.
“I thought you might like a drink and a snack, Ruth dear,” Erica responded. “A glass of sherry?”
“Gin, if you’ve got it!” Ruth smiled. “And not too much tonic, either.”
Erica turned to George and gestured to indicate he should pour the drinks. “Well, I’ll just have a soda water, if you don’t mind.”
“Please yourself, dearie,” Ruth replied. “You always were a bit on the abstemious side.”
George managed to pour the drinks and stood them on a tray before passing them first to Ruth and then to his Mistress.
“Not bad,” said Ruth sipping the gin. “Agreeably dry. And this is your new boy is it?” she peered at George. “He’s got plenty to learn hasn’t he?”
“Well, it’s his first time in a dress, as far as I know,” Erica said, “so we shouldn’t be too hard on him.”
“Hmm,” said Ruth sounding skeptical. “It’s my experience that the quicker they are corrected the faster they learn. Come over here, maid!” she ordered, pointing to the floor beside her chair to indicate where George should kneel. George teetered across the room, concerned by Ruth’s remarks about correction but anxious to give a good account of himself in front of his Mistress Erica. He knelt down beside Ruth’s chair, bowing his head in the way that he had been taught.
“Splendid,” she declared, and George felt himself puffing up with pride in spite of feeling so foolish. “I do like the touch of putting a wig on over his hood. It has an agreeably bizarre quality. He must feel perfectly ridiculous.”
If George had been able to say anything at all he would certainly have agreed. As it was, he had to content himself with remaining silent beside the two women.
“Do you think that you might be able to make use of him?” Erica asked Ruth.
George heard the remark with alarm. Surely Erica wasn’t planning to give him to this woman who was so little his idea of a dominatrix. She looked rather like the disreputable aunt that turns up at a wedding in spite of not being invited and then proceeds to drink her way through more champagne than is compatible with her remaining sober.
“I don’t know Erica,” Ruth replied.”I don’t really like beginners, as you know and I assume that you’re not offering him to me gratis.”
Erica leant across towards Ruth. “Well know, but I’m sure I could let you have him for a rate that reflects his experience.”
“Let her have me for a rate!” George though to himself. “She’s pimping me and at a cut price too!”
“Has he got enough cock to make it worthwhile?” Ruth’s coarse question simply underlined the unpleasant nature of the transaction as far as George was concerned.
Erica looked scandalised. “Really Ruth dear,” she admonished. “Is that any way to speak in front of the staff?”
“Maybe not but he’d better get used to it if I’m going to make use of him! I’ll think about it. But just you be sure, I’ m going to be expecting a big discount on this!”
George turned up to collect Allison at exactly eight o’clock. He always tried to be prompt, he thought to himself. It wasn’t just that Allison had been so firm about the arrangements or that George was half wondering whether she might have recognised him at Erica’s after all.
Allison opened the door. George was almost disappointed. She was dressed in a pale green sweater and a dark brown skirt, quite a difference from the outfit that he had seen her in at Erica’s. “But what did you expect,” he said to himself, “a leather catsuit?”
“I’m sorry?” Allison’s words snapped George’s attention back as he realised he’d been muttering to himself.
“Err, Cat, I saw a cat. On the road,” George said quickly, recovering. “I wondered if it was yours.”
Allison looked at him as though he was behaving more than a little oddly. “No,” she said, “I don’t have a cat.”
“Well, let’s go,” George thought it would be better to change the subject. “Did you have anywhere in mind, because if not…”
“Yes, I did, actually,” Allison said. “I do like Italian food so I thought we could try that new restaurant in town.”
George was quite relieved at not having to make the decision. “Yes,” he said. “That’s an excellent idea.”
As it turned out, George and the newly assertive Allison had a pleasant evening. Once George settled down to the idea that this was just a dinner and that Allison had no idea that he had been the hooded slave she had been encouraged to bind so effectively, they discovered a shared interest in Italian art as well as food and that they had both enjoyed visits to Florence and Pisa.
And then the evening was over. What George had half expected to be an ordeal and half expected to be some preamble to an erotic excursion with Allison’s dominatrix alter-ego had tuned into a perfectly ordinary, pleasant, evening out with good food and pleasant company. George was slightly disappointed when Allison didn’t invite him in for a coffee at the end of the evening (As they had driven back from the restaurant, he’d had visions of himself waiting on her and crouching at her feet while she drank it.) but in spite of that he had to admit he’d had an enjoyable time. “Well,” he said as the two said goodnight at her doorway. “I hope you had a good evening. I certainly did.”
Allison smiled, obviously pleased by the success of the approach that Erica had encouraged her to adopt. “Yes, George,” she said. “I did. We’ll do it again sometime soon.”
George said good night. It was only when he got back in the car that he realised that she hadn’t seemed to allow him much of a choice about whether or not they did it again sometime soon.
***********************
It was Deanna that greeted George on his next visit to Erica’s consulting rooms. She stood in the training room that he had been directed to, arms folded, wearing a short pleated skirt and a tee-shirt, knee-length socks and high heeled shoes and carrying, with an air of threat, a short thick riding crop. Her smile of amusement did nothing to put George at his ease as he arrived. George was very much concerned that she might be out to take her revenge. She couldn’t have enjoyed the humiliation of being punished by Erica for taking advantage of his inexperience, George thought.
“Well,” she said, “it seems I have to be careful with you. I wouldn’t wish to do anything that Erica might feel was out of order, would I?” George nodded in a non-committal way, feeling that it would do little good to try to defend himself, and besides, that anything he did say was likely to cause more trouble. “All right,” she said, “it seems we need a demonstration slave for one of Mistress Erica’s training sessions and you’re it. So, get stripped off and put on your hood and report back here. And get a move on. Mistress doesn’t like her clients to be kept waiting.”
George didn’t need any further encouragement, if Mistress Erica was going to be involved. He started to strip off. Deanna watched him with undisguised distaste. “You’ve put on some weight, haven’t you?” she said as he dropped his trousers.
“Err, I’m not sure Mistress,” George replied. He wasn’t sure if her remarks were simply the prelude to another verbal haranguing or the start of some other penalty or programme of humiliation.
“Still at least that makes you comfortable, I suppose.”
George was puzzled by her remarks. He never felt comfortable when Deanna was around. Things were much too likely to take a turn for his further discomfort, he thought.
“Over there!” Deanna ordered. “On the couch. On your back.”
Reluctant to do anything that might annoy Deanna further, Gorge did as he was told quickly. He might have taken more time if he realised that Deanna intended to secure him to the couch. No sooner was he stretched out than she reached underneath and pulled out leather cuffs fastened by chains to the couch. She strapped them in place about his wrists and ankles, rendering him helpless.
Laying on his back, naked and chained, George felt particularly vulnerable. Anxious as to what Deanna might do, he looked as on she consulted her watch. “There,” she said, “ready in plenty of time. I can put my feet up for a bit.”
She strolled across to the couch. As George looked up in concern she flipped up the back of her skirt and lowered her backside squarely onto his face. Deanna was slightly built but even so her weight was not something George ever expected to bear in this way. He gasped and grunted as she sat and then struggled trying to catch his breath as she wriggled herself in an attempt to find a more comfortable position – for herself at least.
In George’s efforts to catch his breath he quite forgot that Deanna’s expression ‘put my feet up’ might have been meant to be taken literally. After a few minutes of being smothered under her admittedly small buttocks, he was suddenly aware of increased pressure as she swung her feet clear of the floor and then a stabbing pain as first her right foot came down on his belly, jabbing the heel into him and then the second landed close to his groin. His reaction was to buck in discomfort but this had little effect beyond pressing his face hard against Deanna’s back side. “Keep still!” she snapped, taking a cut at the side of his body with her riding crop. “I’ll tell you if I want you to do anything with that fat face of yours.”
George could hardly breathe. The holes in the hood for his nose and mouth were sufficient normally but Deanna’s weight and the press of her panties against him made it ever more difficult to catch his breath. Every so often Deanna would move and he would get the opportunity to gulp in some air but he soon found that his best strategy was to lay as still as possible, ignoring as far as he could, the stabbing sensations from Deanna’s high heels on his belly and crotch.
The combination of the pressure from Deanna’s weight, the smothering effect of her arse and the overwhelming scent of her body filling his nostrils was pushing George close to the edge of unconsciousness when he heard Erica’s voice. “I see you have everything ready. Good.”
There was another stabbing pain as Deanna pushed down against her feet to lever herself upright but then the blessed gulp of air as she stood up. George was aware that he was gasping and coughing but was just grateful to be able to breathe again.
He struggled to look around. Deanna was standing holding a magazine that she had evidently been reading while she sat waiting for Erica. At the door to the room stood Erica and another, masked woman he knew at once to be Allison.
George was always excited by the arrival of Erica in the room. Whether she was dressed in fetish gear or in more mundane, street wear, she always impressed. For this session she had obviously decided that the situation required the dramatic.
She was dressed completely in rubber; a black, shining, cat-suit that stretched across her body covering it but revealing every curve of the muscles beneath. Her hands were encased in gloves, short spike heeled shoes on her feet. A rubber hood covered her face, all but for the holes for her eyes, nose and mouth and one at the back of her head through which cascaded o pony tail of her bright auburn hair.
Allison wore an identical hood and gloves but instead of the cat suit she had squeezed her body into a tight black basque which she wore with a pencil thin skirt that reached to below her knees. The two women together presented a daunting spectacle for the helplessly secured George.
“Is there a gag in here?” Erica asked.
“Ah, no, sorry Mistress,” Deanna responded, looking around. “I can fetch one if you need…”
Erica cut her off. “No, that’s all right, don’t worry. Look, use your panties and your socks, we don’t need anything more elaborate.”
George looked up in distress as Deanna stripped off her underpants and the pair of white, knee-length socks. “No, please, I’ll keep qui—unngfhh!” he spluttered as Deanna jammed the white cloth between his lips.
“Indeed you will,” she said, leaning forward over him and thumbing the wad of cloth deeper into his mouth. “This will make sure of it.”
“Harnng!” George protested as Deanna stood up leaving him, his mouth packed with her socks and underwear.
“Thanks you, Deanna,” said Erica solicitously. “That will do nicely. You can get on now. You’ve got some other clients, haven’t you?” Deanna nodded and left. Erica turned to Allison and began. “Now let’s explore the use of some of the more controlled forms of discomfort as an aid to increasing the slave’s willingness to submit. You’ll find that once you have established a regime of control you actually need very few sanctions to keep the slave under your command. They only need occasional reminders of what the price of defiance might be in order to keep them in line. I like to use these.”
Erica passed something across to Allison, Whatever it was she studied them for a few moments before handing them back to Erica.
“You don’t need to keep them on for long,” Erica bent down. Her rubber clad breasts close to George’s head, fuelling further his fantasies of submission and obedience. There was a sudden sharp stabbing sensation from each of his nipples. He groaned into his panty and sock gag and struggled against the straps that held him secure. “Nipple clamps,” Erica went on, “are particularly useful for this. You can improvise with clothes pegs but I do think this is one area where it is worth getting the proper item. With ones like this you can adjust the tightness by turning this little wheel, see.” George experienced new pain as Erica tightened the clamp on first his left and then his right nipple, bringing forth another moan of discomfort.
,
To distract himself from the sharp sensations of the clamps he stared at Erica and Allison. It was astonishing how much Allison managed to look the part and how easily she seemed to find it, dressing with provocative aggression and posing as if she had been born to enslave men. Curiously, as he watched the earnest conversation between Erica and Allison, the pain in his nipples seemed to ebb away leaving him conscious only of a strange numbness.
The two women returned to his side. “But then,” Erica said with no concern about George at all, “the real incentive for the slave is this.” She reached across him and with a swift twist she released the clamps.
To George it was as if two red hot needles had been pushed though his nipples. Even the socks and panties jammed in his mouth could not suppress the scream of astonishment. Dry as his mouth was from the way that the cloth had soaked up his spit, he could still moan and stutter as the blood flowed back into his nipples, kicking another spike of pain with each beat of his pulse.
“Such small things, and such extraordinary power!” Allison was looking down in wonder at the clamps as she held them in the palm of her hand.
George was writhing, lost in his own discomfort, and struggling against the straps that held him as Allison and Erica chatted amiably about the techniques and tools of dominance. Neither of them seemed interested in his response to Erica’s explanation.
A series of disagreeable – from George’s perspective – similar demonstrations followed. Erica worked her way through a series of similar pain-inflicting devices that clipped to his nipples with either screw clamps or springs. As she did so George slowly lost track of how long he had strapped to the bench or indeed, anything else other than the sequence of agonising pains in his nipples. It wasn’t as bad as Deanna’s electric shock treatment but it wasn’t much better. Erica seemed to know exactly how long to leave the damned things in place so that just as a blissful numbness was establishing itself she would remove the clamps and the pain would crash back over him, urging groans from his panty stuffed mouth that brought, he was disturbed to hear, giggles of delight from Allison. All George could do was to try to take his mind off the treatment he was receiving, focusing on the sensual delight of the sight of Erica and Allison in their closely fitting costumes.
In the end, Erica declared the session at an end. She and Allison left George strapped to his bench and disappeared chatting like old friends.
George could only struggle until Erica returned to release him.
“You coped with that very well,” she said. George, pleased to receive the complement smiled. “But don’t get complacent. You’ve still a lot to learn.”
George allowed himself to ask a direct question. “Mistress,” he said, as politely as he could, “You knew that I had met Mistress Allison before, didn’t you Mistress?”
“Why of course, George,” Erica responded with a laugh. “That’s what I thought would be so amusing.“
© Freddie Clegg 2010
Not to be reproduced or reposted without permission. All characters and events fictitious.
Email: freddie_clegg@yahoo.com
Web group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Femdom_Fables/
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