"You want me to write a story about what?" I sat there across from my feature editor Phillip and wondered if possibly your hearing could go bad just like that.
"I want you to give me 10,000 words on the B&D, you know, bondage and domination scene here in Seattle."
I ran a hand through my hair, "Jesus, Phil, isn't that something best left to Jerry Springer or say one of the tabloids?"
He sat there, a slight smile crossing his rather weary looking face. "Jonathan, I know this is going to come as a bit of a shock to you but we are a tabloid. Maybe not in your eyes, but in our readers and since we haven't found the Loch Ness Monster, sighted Elvis or discovered how to lose 30 pounds in 30 days in quite some time, this is what we've decided upon." Before I could utter another word of protest he won't on to say, "Look Jonathan, sex sells. In advertising, on TV, on the big screen and in print. End of story."
I threw my arms up, "Fine. How do you expect me to research something I know nothing about? Take out a personal ad?"
SUBMISSIVE MALE SEEKS DOMINANT FEMALE FOR INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION. PLEASE RESPOND TO 555-1212. That was the ad, it wasn't the results. I heard from women who wanted "tributes" also known as cash. Others who demanded I get down on my knees now and some people who just called to tell me how sick I was. They must have known how I felt. Then, there was this response.
"My name is Rebecca and I'm answering your ad. It sounds, intriguing. I'll be at the Café Lane at four o'clock on Friday afternoon if you're interested in talking." My thoughts were since it didn't involve money, yet, my knees, which surgery certainly hadn't helped or someone telling me what a pervert I was, yet still being the operative word, I thought why not. I sat there Friday at four with my drink in hand and watched the door looking for the lady.
A few minutes later thinking I should have known this was a bad idea in walked a woman for which all the descriptions of beauty had been written for. Some women wear their looks like a shield to protect them from harm, others like a beacon to pull others into their light. This woman, she wore hers, for lack of a better word, regally. Dressed in a dark business suit she let her gaze run across the room before stopping on mine. A bit of a smile filled her face as she walked to the table where I sat and said, "Submissive male I presume?"
I almost knocked my drink over getting to my feet to pull her chair out and her eyes danced at the sight of my obvious discomfort. As I sat back down I found myself fighting to keep my voice calm asking, "How did you know?"
"Well, you have a writing tablet, a pen and a recorder in front of you. You did say you wanted to talk, didn't you? Of course you have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You know my name" and she sat there just smiling. It took me a moment or two before I caught on and extended my hand, "Jonathan, Jonathan Samuels."
My hand stayed there in space until self consciously I let it slide back into my lap once again noticing how she took pleasure in my rather uncomfortable position. "Now, Jonathan, you look surprised. Did you think I'd arrive in black leather, high heels and carrying a whip?"
"Well, yes. I mean, no I just thought you might..." and as I stuttered and mumbled myself into an incoherent mess all I could think about was how the transference of power or control of the meeting had shifted from the moment she walked in the door.
As my words finally trailed off into nothingness the waiter came over and asked if she would care for something to drink. "Vodka martini please" and it did help me to see how he lingered over her, the effect she had not just reserved for me. As he hurried to fill the order her eyes once again found mine, "I'm going to take a guess here. You're not a submissive male, though I do believe you've got the quality to be. Am I right?" I felt the heat of my blush rush to my face as my eyes looked downward as I told her about my assignment and the response I'd had so far.
Her drink arrived and she took a sip before replying. "Tributes are for amateurs. Players who take advantage of the weak and use them to increase their stock portfolio. Getting down on your knees is a nice place to start but I prefer to see my, shall we say subjects naked first to see what I have to work with. Oh, and I'll reserve judgement on you being a pervert until I know for sure. By the way, did you want to start your recorder or take some notes on this?" I knocked the recorder off the table in my haste to start it and once again her grin told me just how much she was enjoying the little tet'a'tet.
We sat there for an hour, me listening, her talking about her "craft." She obviously took great pride in her subjects, bottoms being the correct term for a submissive individual. "Tops are people such as myself, dominants whether male or female. Tell me Jonathan, why did you place the ad as a submissive? Are you trying to tell me something?" Once again my mannerisms and faltering speech showing my naivete and this time it drew a deep-throated laugh from my tormentor.
"You must forgive me Jonathan, the role I play calls for not only physical and visual stimulation but verbal as well. The transference of power that the submissive desires is great. They want total control to be taken by the, in my case, dominatrix. By making them uncomfortable whether by teasing, taunting, why by even humiliating them, it's all part of the process. It's what they desire, it's what they crave."
When my recorder clicked off signaling the end of the tape I jumped visually from even that simple sound, a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by my beautiful guest. Her voice went down another octave and her eyes turned dark as she spoke saying, "A true submissive finds their senses heightened as sounds, touches, sights can affect them in so many ways that a dominant will use to their advantage. The body is easily possessed, the mind not so. Once the mind is lost then all is lost."
Her eyes once again returned to normal as she smiled and asked if that was all? "No, no, can we please meet again? I have so many more questions I'd like to ask" though for the likes of me I couldn't imagine them or had any idea why I wanted so desperately to see her.
"Well then, tell me. How deeply do you want to research your piece? How far are you willing to go?" My enthusiasm obviously pleased her and she asked me to give her a telephone number where I could be reached and then she was gone.
"So, what have you got?" I sat across from Phil's desk and wondered how to answer him.
"Not much, I need more time. I've got someone on the inside but we've only talked once."
"Okay, when are you supposed to meet again?"
"I don't know, she took my number and said she'd call."
"She said she would call?"
"Well, she said she might call and she's the best bet I've got. She's, she's incredible Phil. Like no one I've ever met before."
His look caught me off guard and I found myself defending a woman I'd only met once but hoped I'd meet again. "Fine, keep me posted."
The telephone call came at seven that evening. "Hello submissive, do you know who this is?" "Rebecca?" "1425 Sandy Lane, nine o'clock tonight. Don't be late and don't disappoint me." The line went dead and my heart soared. I spent the next hour getting ready and then driving to the designated address.
A voluptuous redheaded beauty that said her name was Beth and that she was Rebecca's assistant answered the knock on the door. "She's prepared a room for you, please, follow me." The room she directed me too had a full view mirror in it, a single chair and an envelope with the initial J on it.
I sat down, opened the envelope and began to read. "Dear Submissive, welcome. I have made arrangements tonight for you to view my first encounter with a prospective bottom. This woman has come to me with the express interest of being schooled in submitting to another female's desires. Her interest in this is like many other women, she feels she must be forced and then she can enjoy it. She has agreed to allow you to observe and has also said that she will allow you to interview her as long as her identity remains a secret. The two-way mirror here will allow you to see and the speakers mounted above will enable you to hear everything that goes on. Have fun." The letter was signed R.
It wasn't long before the lights muted and I saw a door open and a single woman being pushed into the room. The sound of a key turning and I watched as she tried to turn the doorknob only to find it locked. She turned and walked toward the center of the room where the light was the brightest, her face visibly flushed. The woman, whom I've decided to call Lady M, looked to be in her late twenties, early thirties, dark hair, quite attractive with a look in her eyes showing a mixture of concern and excitement. She stood there, turning from one side of the room to the next, wondering what was about to happen. So was I.
