Tuesday Morning
Over the last term, Justine and Juliette had got into the habit of meeting for a coffee on Tuesday mornings, when they were both left at a loose end after an early lecture and had nothing else doing until the afternoon. The notion of bringing Dylan along had crossed Justine's mind, but she decided against it. Apart from anything else, his makeover was still a work in progress, though Justine was sure she'd always remember the look on his face when she'd popped a bottle of pink hair dye into the basket he was holding in Bodycare after they'd finally crawled out of her bed on Saturday afternoon.
To Justine's relief, when she got to the cutesy (and rather expensive) faux-American coffee shop next to the Student's union Juliette was already there and unaccompanied. It looked like her lecture had let out early as she'd already killed a mug of something. She was wrapped up in her orange bubble jacket against the cold, but had opened it in the heated cafe to show the black PVC mini dress she was wearing underneath it. Justine had an idea that the hem of the jacket was longer than the skirt of the coat, so neither would cover her green and black striped tights or mismatched Converse high tops. "Hey, Teenie," she said looking up. "Have fun on Friday?"
Justine sat and joined her. "Loads," she said "thank you. Hey yourself, Julie. Who was that masked man I saw you with?"
"A guy from my Psychology course," Juliette said. "He has some rather fancy tattoos, so he wanted to keep them hidden in case somebody recognised them. He probably doesn't want his name throwing around either. I think he might be a bit too shy to make it as a gimp, if I'm honest."
"What, like a whole body suit or something?" Justine thought the lad would need more ink than the great Omi to need a zentai catsuit to cover everything.
"Not quite," Juliette said. "He did blow all the money his parents gave him for aceing his A levels on ink though. He has a really nice back piece of some sort of big-titted chaos demon that he obviously didn't realise might offend Dommes or other women with feminist credentials, one of those spiked chaos wheel things around his right nipple in flat black line work and what he says is the crest of Slaanesh on his right forearm. Not sure what that is, to be honest."
"Warhammer thing," Justine said. She'd dated a few war gamers in her teens. For some reason boys with a taste for funny dice were often willing to experiment. "Slaanesh is one of the four great Chaos powers. Betcha the demon on his back with big boobs is a Daemonette of Slaanesh, or even a Keeper of Secrets."
"Nerd," Juliette said, grinning. The grin showed off the shark-bite ring in the left side of her lower lip. That and the pig ring she sported in her septum were another reason Justine had never thought of Juliette as a top. She didn't think facial piercings were very dominant, and associated the way Juliette was stretching her earlobes with slaves and subs as well. Of course, seeing Juliette with a media Domme and a gimp at her feet in Christine's had left Justine wondering if she'd completely misread something Juliette did back at the start of their university career, which she'd always thought was a hilariously rude brush off rather than an act of sexual Dominance. Juliette's nearly milk white hair was currently cut into a short bob which she kept dishevelled, and the only makeup she was wearing was orange lipstick and matching nail polish.
"Got me," Justine said. "To be honest, I was a bit surprised to see you there at all, because I always thought you were kind of vanilla."
"Just because I never quaff from the furry cup, Teenie, does not make me vanilla."
"That's me told. Fancy another?"
"Please."
Justine went to the counter and came back with a couple of lattes. She couldn't resist waiting until Juliette was taking her first sip to ask: "So why was a straight, Dominant lady like you chatting up a Dominatrix?" To her disappointment, Juliette didn't snort or splutter. She did hear a clink as Juliette's lower lip moving tapped her piercing against the mug, but that was it.
"That's a long and rather odd story," Juliette said.
"You don't want to have sex with women, but you are willing to let them spank you if they're wearing thigh boots and a corset? You should have told me that when we were at college."
Juliette blew a raspberry and smirked. "Sorry, babes. Before we get into this, though were either of the couple of naked guys with you rather than the other couple of Dommes you were there with?"
"One was, and still is," Justine said. "The other was with them, though the two of them did have sex."
"Now this sounds good," Juliette said, smirking and leaning forwards. "Tell me more before I start singing that song from Grease."
"No need to go nuclear, Julie. Dylan, the mousy blond one was with me. He's more submissive than gay but was determined that he wanted to try it on for size. The other guy, Jared, was with my two other companions, who are a lesbian Mistress and slave couple, and is more of a gay boy than a submissive, but he'll strip naked and go to a nightclub in a collar and a cage if that's what it takes to pop a pretty boy's cherry."
Juliette's face as she digested all that was a picture. "Now if you'd told me all that while I was taking my first sip," she said after falling silent to mull all of that over for thirty seconds, "I probably would have spat coffee all over the table. So Dylan and Jared are a couple now?"
"No, Dylan is pretty much my slave now. I am encouraging him to keep an eye out for boys though, as he really enjoyed the gay stuff he did." Justine looked at Juliette's face. "More details, I know. I watched the two of them making out and sucking each other off at Arianna and Jonelle's. The big finale was Dylan licking me out while Jared fucked his bum. We both enjoyed that, and I'm sure Jared did as well."
"That sounds fun," Juliette said. "I'm not interested in girls, but watching a couple of good looking guys fuck is always fun. Damn, maybe I should have said 'hi' instead of us just winking and smirking at each other."
"It's probably best you didn't," Justine said. "Arianna is trouble if I'm honest. She thinks that no woman on Earth is more dominant than her, or straight enough to be off limits. Any girl who goes round hers will end up submitting to her in all sorts of ways, many of them sexual. I don't think that would be your scene, however chocolatey your tastes are. One girl I was fool enough to introduce to her isn't speaking to me anymore." Justine still felt guilty about that. For all she knew, Arianna had put Mandy off any kind of sexual experimentation for life.
"Not really my scene," Juliette agreed. "And if I'd taken Ma..." she cut herself off and started again "...my own escort for the evening into a situation like that, he'd probably have shat himself and ran away screaming. That would definitely have been a bit much for him, even if participation wasn't compulsory. So thanks for the warning, as I'm sure I'll bump into them again. I think I've seen them both in Regal Zone before now, I'm sure."
Justine shrugged. "De nada, babes. If I'd known you were into power games before, I'd have warned you about them long since. Just remember Arianna doesn't always let her slave dress up. The fetish night last month, Jonelle was wearing a collar and a bin-liner rather than a rubber dress and opera gloves. And she had her head shaved."
"Noted. Now, as far as Madame Morticia goes, she was talking about something that might interest you. How would you feel about taking part in a Domme off?"
"Is there any such thing?" Apart from a drunken cat fight over who was the most Dominant or running a headcount to compare the numbers of men queuing up to lick a couple of rival Dominatrices' boots, Justine had no idea how such a thing would work. Presumably male tops had that sort of contest a bit simpler as they could just have beard growing contests or compared the size of their motorcycles, though she supposed a few of the older guys might call seniority over having first editions from the '70s of John Norman rather than buying used paperbacks out out of a four for a pound bin on a market stall half a century later.
"Apparently there is. It seems the famous media Domme has a rival and they're going to have some sort of challenge by proxy. They each pick a protege and have them do a contest, then the one whose representative wins, wins whatever the contest is about. She wasn't exactly clear over that part, to be honest. Spent most of the time we were talking bitching about her rival instead."
"Word is she's a bit of a drama queen and has a real knack for making enemies." Justine had seen all sorts of unpleasant comments about Madame Morticia on the sort of fetish message boards where pervs traded advice and contact numbers. A common piece of advice on those boards was "If you can hire somebody other than Madame Morticia for a video or photo shoot, do so."
"So I've heard. Her rival is, apparently, Mistress Anastasia."
It was very, very wrong of Justine, but the notion of suggesting that Morticia's rival sought out Arianna as her proxy immediately crossed Justine's mind. If Justine had the right Mistress Anastasia in mind, she was even shorter than Juliette's five foot four and made Li'l Kim look like Nicki Minaj. Arianna wouldn't like that, and she'd like dealing with a woman who she couldn't possibly be allowed to top even less. There'd be some sort of explosive tantrum for sure.
"And no, Teenie, I am not suggesting that your uber-Dommely associate with the gorgeous slave girl goes for the gig as Anastasia's rep."
Justine looked down at her coffee cup. "Am I really, that easy to read?" she asked.
"Not usually, but given what we've been talking about and the way you're grinning, I have an idea what you're thinking right now."
"Busted," Justine admitted. "I was thinking that very thing."
"I thought you might be," Juliette said. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be interested yourself?"
"Maybe," Justine said. "I'd be delighted to at least talk to a famous media Domme, and it couldn't hurt to find out what the whole set up is. No way I'm committing myself to anything without knowing how the stuff Morticia refused to discuss works, though, and I hope you haven't either."
"Sweetie, I'm reading psychology, remember? I was very careful not to even think anything that could be taken as a verbal commitment, never mind saying anything."
