Gina: Femdom 401
Gina found it all very amusing. By day, she played the ordinary college girl; by night, she became Splendid Bitch Goddess. And Anna was actually going to marry Edward? Was that funny or was it splendid?
Each afternoon after classes and study, Gina met Ashley and they walked together to Anna. Once safely off campus Ashley took Gina's hand and they strolled as if sweethearts along the tree lined streets of the venerable New England town. The last scraps of summer had fallen to paste colorful patches on the gray sidewalks damp with autumn's mist. A few withered, recalcitrant leaves clung tenaciously to oaks hunkering down for winter's assault.
The tiny houses and narrow lots reminded Gina of home, except that everything was older and neater, and that sustained prosperity had vested the cottages with charm. Charm—the proprietor's admission ticket to trendy attainment. Back home streets with sidewalks were for scuffling losers. There the elect dwelled in oversized colonials planted in big sunny country lots roasting between bean fields. Home was cottonwood, not oak.
Gina and Ashley turned at Main Street. The brick sidewalk by Main was meticulously clean. A verdant culture of lawn fermented in the cool mists, and not a fallen leaf was abided. Summer's trash had vanished. Large old houses faced the main drag and bragged of generations of accomplishment. Gina was appropriately intimidated; she wasn't in Kansas anymore.
But Gina felt strangely back home each time Ashley turned to lead her off Main Street up the flagstone walkway to Anna's home. Gina carefully balanced footfalls on the damp rocks and recalled happy childhood afternoons following slick stepping-stones up country creeks meandering through rectilinear fields of industrial agriculture. The creek's high earthen banks hid the girl within its embrace. The creek's quilt of pure blue Chicory, white crowns of Queen Anne's lace, and multicolored remnants of the vanquished ancient prairie swaddled the daydreaming girl. There she was transported back to an imagined primordial wilderness. There the joyful girl's mind's eye hunted inspiration and gathered solace.
Now Gina followed in Ashley's footsteps up the stepping-stone path through thriving rainbows of chrysanthemums wending her way back to Anna's world, back to Anna's grand ancestral manor.
The careless observer might easily have missed the import of this building nestled so deeply off Main. They might have mistaken the grounds for a municipal park. Anna's home reposed on pillows of flower-embroidered hillocks, resting under the wide spreading branches of huge old open-growth oaks born in a pre-colonial savanna. The house of Anna quietly assumed its preeminence. Forest green gables trimmed in cranberry and plum peeped over a knoll cloaked in a mantle of long prairie grass rusting in autumn's damp toward wintry gray. A negligent critic might have declared the structure a painted lady, but the vibrant colors were as gentle as bold. Anna's dwelling was a carnival of decorum.
Edward served tea. The women sat discussing life's affairs while Edward knelt wordlessly at Anna's feet occasionally rising to serve. Edward filled their cups, tidied the table, and placed cubes of sugar per each woman's request. Then he unobtrusively slipped back to his knees. When the ladies were thoroughly relaxed and buzzing with caffeine and glucose, when the social tension was properly brewed, Anna would say, "Edward darling it is time for Gina's lesson in being a women. Clear the table and remove your clothes." Then Gina was educated in the ways of Anna's world.
Anna would take Ashley's hand and would they cuddle in an antique loveseat observing and directing. The first time Gina struck Edward she was more startled than he was. "Pay no attention to his complaints; he likes it. Edward, be still. You'll give the girl the wrong impression."
Gina happily beat Anna's beloved betrothed, the beautiful Edward, while Anna critiqued her performance with academic detachment. Gina was a quick study, but she could not fully comprehend Anna. What did she see in Edward? The perverse thrill of power was obvious, and Gina surprised herself by laughing at Edward's tears. But why waste so much time on this one, this lying, cringing, sobbing, submissive weakling? Gina imagined men lining up to cringe under her whip. But why marry one? Oh well, apparently this particular male was exactly what Anna wanted in her spouse.
Gina awoke each morning in her narrow dorm cot to her roommate's snores and the other disquieting noises of the binge drinker. Gina snuck out for breakfast and sat as alone as could be managed in the overcrowded cafeteria sipping coffee and nibbling on plain whole grain toast, no fat, and no surgery goo. Gina tried to ignore the appalling drone of her fellows chatting about their dream boys and fantasy marriages.
Yes, they would kiss that hot boy and transform him into a prince. He would be theirs, their virile accountant who would carry them away to a faux castle in the suburbs. The hot boys were all knights in shinning armor pining to sweep the beautiful damsels off their feet to live out contented soap opera marriages in the happy middle of the faux happy middle class. That is of course, soap opera marriages without all that soap opera infidelity. What, soaps without cheating? Now that would be a boring show. Love without pain is like a castle without a dungeon.
By day, Gina studied liberal arts; by night, she studied darker arts, Femdom 101 with Professor Anna. Edward was Gina's workbook. Gina's studies progressed as Edward's autonomy regressed. She methodically transformed the dominating, cerebral Professor of Comparative Bullshit into a compliant pussy licking wimp. Gina excelled in her new studies, and, to Gina's surprise, Edward too was an apt and acquiescent student. She surprised herself in finding Edward appealing as whimpering cunt licker. Gina realized the fantasy role of heartbroken submissive was no longer for her; beating a whining slit slave was so much more engaging.
Edward did anything Anna demanded, and Anna demanded a lot. Anna commanded, Edward submitted, and Gina practiced her new art—the black art of flagellation. Gina never saw Anna raise a hand against Edward. Gina was Anna's instrument. It was all quite splendid.
