The Mistress

It makes me laugh to think that the majority of people who see me think that I'm a librarian. I suppose that, outside of work, my dress is more than a little plain. I tend to favour knee-length skirts or trousers with sensible shirts and regular underwear. I love the fact that people who see me in the supermarket or walking along the street think that I'm a regular woman, maybe a little frigid, who probably lives with her 2.4 cats instead of children. I wear minimal makeup when I'm off duty. I observe people and smile to myself. If only they knew.

Of course, there are some that know all too well what I'm capable of. Librarian I am not... I love what I do. It's not a job; it's a way of life. I make a great deal of money in humiliation, bondage, wax play, forced cross-dressing to name but I few. I have a particular personal penchant for slavery and fear. I love it when they cry.

My clients vary. They come in all shapes and sizes and you can take that statement however you choose.

My schedule is pretty busy. I must admit, when I first started out, I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into. I was pretty naïve I suppose but you have to start somewhere, don't you? I couldn't believe how quickly business took off. My so-called Dungeon was less than adequate and I had only placed one piddly little ad in the local rag. But, like I said, business boomed and I found out that people not only pay you handsomely to shower them in degradation; they give you gifts when you do a good job.

Jimmy was my first client. He was a 40 year-old lawyer, happily married with a couple of kids. He and his wife had a perfectly vanilla love life. She was happy to be on her back oooh-ing and aaah-ing in the appropriate places, she rarely came through penetration but was happy with her vibrator. Jimmy wasn't satisfied. He saw my ad and called me up.

We arranged an appointment and he has been coming to, and on, me ever since. In fact, he was so impressed with the services I provided that he paid for a real Dungeon. I don't know what he spent but I'd guess it was close to 100k.

Of course, not all gifts are as extravagant but I am thankful for them all; even the stranger ones. Someone sent me a shit in a box once but she was a coprophiliac so it figures.

Tonight, I have my favourite client. I know it's probably bad practice to favour one client over others but I think it's impossible not to become at least a bit attached to your regulars.

His name is Phil. He's in his 40s, most of my male clients are. My female clientele tend to be in their late twenties to mid thirties but I don't discriminate. Not unless they ask me to.

Anyway, Phil. He's to put it lightly, horny as fuck. When he first called me, he said to treat him like a blank canvas and just do whatever I wanted. I was in paradise! He arrived, and I must have stared or something. He grinned at me and as the door shut, I slapped him hard and grabbed a handful of his hair.

'What the fuck do you think you're grinning at?'

'Nothing, Mistress,' he replied through gritted teeth. I could feel myself getting wet as I dragged him to the crucifix that stood in the room. I kicked his ass with my hooker-style heels and he stumbled into the cross. He raised his eyes up and saw the manacles that adorned each wooden arm. He stood up and I clamped his arms in place. I tore open his shirt and bit his nipples making him cry out. I could feel him hardening against me. That and the feel of his skin made my clit throb under my red rubber dress.

I picked up a mask from the enormous banqueting table which was adorned with various items; whips, chains, masks, weaponry, strap-on dildos...Anything you can imagine to aid the perverse is probably on that table in one form or another. I'm very proud of my tools.

I took the porcine mask and placed it over Phil's head.

'You're a pig,' I spat as I aligned his eyes and the eyeholes. 'Pigs get taken to the slaughter, don't they?' I demanded, clawing my nails down his toned torso.

'Yes, Mistress,' he replied. I could hear a shake in his voice and knew that he was more than a little apprehensive. Good.

I walked back to the table and picked up a blood stained apron. I put it on and made sure that he could see. He was sweating now and he was scared, I could smell it. His breathing was rapid and uneven.

I turned my back to Phil and uncovered my secret weapon. As I pulled the starter cord I turned to Phil, manacled and helpless on the crucifix, as the chainsaw roared into life. Even over the bellowing of the motor, I could hear him sobbing and I had to stop myself pressing the plastic covering of the motor against myself. I stepped towards him and as I did, he pissed his pants. I love it when they cry.

I shut off the chainsaw and put it back. 'You pussy. Pigs're too good for you.' I took a bullwhip from the table and removed the pig mask, tossing it aside carelessly. I unleashed the whip upon his flesh and he screamed, a red gash glaring out across his chest. His cock was solid under his piss soaked trousers. I lashed him again and again until he begged me to stop.

I let him down from the cross and commanded that he take off his trousers. I wasn't surprised to see he had no shorts on. His erection was the most impressive and gorgeous I've seen. Even the thought of being sliced with a chainsaw hadn't abated it.

'Kneel down,' I growled, pushing my shoe into his face. 'Lick it.' He did. I pushed him onto his back on the cold stone floor and stood over him, one shoe pressed into a whip gash. Phil hissed and his cock twitched. I reached down and grabbed his hair once again. I dragged him across the floor and hoisted him to his feet.

'Ever been fucked?'

'N-no, Mistress,' he stammered as I unzipped my dress, revealing my naked body. He reached out to me and I so badly wanted him to take control and fuck me but that wasn't what we were about...Not then, anyway. I pushed his hand away and slapped him around the face again.

'Did I tell you to touch me?'

'No, Mistress,' he whispered, looking ashamed but I saw the twinkle in his eyes and to be honest, it threw me a little. I led him to the cage. I handcuffed him to the bars and got the biggest strap-on in my possession at the time. I stepped into it and stood in front of Phil. I roughly turned him around and pressed against him, making him groan. I nibbled on his ear, unable to help myself.

'Spread 'em and take it!' I yelled, slathering his ass with lube and jamming the dildo into him roughly. I thrust into him, hard and deep my breasts slapping against his back. He reached down to his cock and I bent his arm behind his back, thrusting faster into him, feeling my own orgasm building, his sweat running down his skin in rivulets. I couldn't let myself climax. I grabbed his penis and pumped it, sending him over the edge, his hot juices trickling over my hand as he cried out. I slowly stopped fucking him and withdrew the strap-on. I undid his cuffs and, stepping out of the harness, ordered him to go clean up.

He emerged from the shower sometime later looking truly fuckable.

'Get out.'

'Yes, Mistress,' he replied. He dropped a bundle of notes on the floor as he left which I ignored. As soon as the door was closed, I shoved my fingers into my pussy, rubbing my clit furiously until I came, screaming and pinching my nipples.

Phil became a regular client. To be honest, I wasn't sure he was going to come back but I was happy when he did. That was our first encounter and I like the challenge of trying to give him something new every time. The element of surprise.

Tonight, I'll be forcing him into women's clothes -- underwear, stockings, short skirt, blouse and heels. I'll flog him with the cat o' nine tails that I made myself and then I think I'll try some suspension. I'll blow him while he swings.

And he will love it.