DISCLAIMER: All characters in this and any additional parts of this story are all over the age of 21.
This tale involved BDSM. If that subject does not interest you then I wish you well and hope you find a story on the site which you will enjoy.
If you choose to read this tale then I thank you in advance for doing so. When you have finished I hope you will leave a comment or a suggestion and I would ask that you please vote as well.
This is a standalone piece, completely separate from the two series I currently have featured here on Literotica.
I wanted to pay homage to a vision that another writer had, when she created the club Valhalla. I was captured by the mental imagery, her words painting such an incredible picture, and she was kind enough to allow me to use it as the setting for this tale. I send my thanks to Abby for her help in capturing the proper protocol for the hall and for inspiring me. She and her Owner Missy return, those of you who are familiar with The Finishing School series, will remember them fondly, as I do.
*****
It had been a most unusual request. The package arriving, complete with an electronic reader, a book held within which part of a panel of three would discuss. The radio interview would be taped for a later airing on a satellite radio channel available throughout North America, and I had been selected because the novel and I shared a common theme. I wrote a blog for a syndicated periodical which held a prominent place in the world of BDSM, discussing and reviewing everything from print to film about the subject. I took a look at the title, The Master Plan. The cover photo of what looked to be a dark haired dominant woman, her blue eyes with the come hither type of look which might draw a reader's possible interest.
It was advertised as a sensual mystery, the reviews I saw at the end of it glowing, though they only numbered two in total. I couldn't help but smile, the words about how it had been a fascinating introduction into the world I not only wrote about but lived in everyday, thinking I will be the judge of that. Sitting down, I began to read, the prose at first humorous, but by the time I reached the second chapter, I found myself being drawn into his world as I read,
I knocked the machine off the table in my haste to start it. Her grin told me just how much she enjoyed this little tête à tête. She sipped at her drink as I finally managed to push the record button. She proceeded, giving me a front-row view into her life. We sat there for an hour, me listening, her talking about her craft. She obviously took great pride in her subjects, bottoms or subs, being the correct term for a submissive individual.
"Tops are people such as me, dominants and they can be male or female. For some at a basic level, say perhaps a husband and wife, one is dominant, the other submissive in the bedroom. For those like myself who embrace the lifestyle there are different terms. Men are called Doms or Masters. Women like me, Dommes or Mistresses. Some even prefer the term Dominatrix, but that's usually when speaking of those who portray themselves as such in the professional arena. Tell me Jonathan, why did you place the ad as a submissive male? Were you trying to tell me something, dear boy?" My mannerisms and faltering speech showed my naiveté. But, this time it drew a deep-throated laugh from my tormentor.
"You must forgive me Mr. Samuels. The role I play calls for not only physical and visual stimulation, but verbal sparring as well. The transference of power that the submissive desires is great. They want some level of control to be taken by the, what they see in my case, superior being. For each submissive, it is in the degree of the control that they are willing to relinquish that tells me what they do or do not desire. By making them uncomfortable whether by teasing, taunting, by even at times humiliating them, it's all part of the process. It's what they desire, what they crave. For some it's like the air that they breathe. They require it in order to actually live, to truly feel alive."
Alexandria's words were intoxicating, almost hypnotic as she continued. "There are many fetishes, desires, fantasies which some might consider taboo. For example, a male who wants all the power stripped away from him, who desires to relinquish the control he has in his everyday life. Perhaps another who finds that he craves pain in order to find even greater pleasure. A woman who desires to be used by more than one man or another woman; a housewife by day, someone completely different come night." She gave me a wicked look. "In the end, it's what brings an individual the most happiness in their life. If they're not hurting anyone, then they should embrace what they desire, not what society dictates they might."
I lost track of time as I read, the afternoon sun giving away until night had fallen, and I was looking at the words THE END. I let out the breath I seemed to have been holding. Moving into my kitchen, I poured a glass of wine, looking out into the darkness while my thoughts remained centered on the individuals on whose lives I had found myself caught up in during the past several hours. It had indeed been what one of the reviewers had said but for me it had been so much more. Standing there, I thought about how this writer had captured the mental aspect of a D/s relationship, while still remaining true to the romantic mystery he had penned.
Walking back into the living room, I picked up the e-reader. William Womack was named as the author but there was nothing about him to be found at either the beginning, or at the end of the book. That night I dreamed about what I had read, the figures coming to life as I played a part in the proceedings. My nocturnal visions as much a delight for the senses as they were for the body.
Over the next few weeks, prior to the taping of the upcoming discussion, I let my mind wander; forming my own mental picture of what the author might look like. From the plain, average individual he had spoken of in the words of his novel perhaps? Or would it be the face of one who might grace the cover of the same book, the leonine look favored by the later version of the actor in the lead role. I would often catch myself smiling, wondering which of the two might be correct while knowing in the end, it would be what it will be.
When I arrived at the studio on the appointed day, I met the young woman named Francine who would be conducting the interview. She was a rather precocious Goth like looking; dark haired beauty that pronounced herself a fan of mine and gushed on about how much she enjoyed my work. I gave her my warmest smile and a hug before we moved into the area where the interview would be conducted. As soon as I stepped through the door, I stopped, seeing a figure already seated, a face which I had felt I had seen in my recurring dreams having come to life.
One of my assumptions had been quite correct. The man who stood up, his face showing the same smile, the almost same shyness as the reporter in his book had featured, extended his hand while saying softly, "Good afternoon Miss, I'm William Womack."
My eyes sparkled at the sight of the brown haired, blue eyed man whose eyes didn't quite look directly into mine as I said, "Well good afternoon sir, I'm Natalie Edwards." I could feel the slight tremor in his hand as it shook mine, the realization that the man who stood before me, I now believed, was the exact same individual he had written about in his words. The two of them were as I surmised the same.
