Obedience And Desire

An Episode of the Babe-a-lon Series: Obedience and Desire

Caroline was a "daddy's girl." From early in her life, she had a man wrapped around her little finger. She had many different ways to manipulate her father into giving her exactly what she wanted. Her mother's objections and attempts at bringing her daughter under control were mere obstacles to Caroline's ultimate success. At times, she would be a bystander for her mother's own domination of her father. Eventually, Caroline would incorporate her mother's strategies into her own repertoire of male manipulation. With her intelligence and striking physical features, she had the potential to rise to the top of any field she chose.

The path ultimately chosen by Caroline came from a chance encounter with a woman who recognized her potential to command anyone she chose to do her bidding. It was at a luncheon at Caroline's sorority house to honor past members that she would be discovered. Attendance of the luncheon was mandatory for all current members, yet Caroline had little interest in schmoozing with women her mother's age or older. She procrastinated even dressing for the event let alone doing her part of the preparation. The luncheon had already started as Caroline came downstairs fashionably late with no hint of embarrassment. Then she proceeded to take a seat at the head table as some of her sisters rushed to get a plate for her.

A woman at a nearby table took notice of the scrambling to please the neglectful Caroline and later made a point to engage her in conversation. "Excuse me, my dear. But are you a current officer in the house?"

"Why no." Caroline replied as she got a good look at her inquisitor. The woman was impeccably dressed in an exquisite blush colored Chanel suit. Her hair was pulled back revealing aged yet still gorgeous features. "I just pledged last fall."

"Well, my dear, it's obvious that

you

are the sister that they fear the most. And, I mean that as a compliment...May I ask what you are studying?"

"Okay, I started as pre-law, but that has been so boring lately. I've been thinking about switching to computer science, but then I'd have to get better grades in math. Yuk!"

"Well, having barely met you, it would be presumptuous of me to give career advice. However, I do know talent when I see it...Here is my card. If you continue to be unfulfilled with your studies, I believe I have an option for you that would fully utilize your talents. Yes, I think that you would be very successful and rather wealthy.

"And now, I must be going. I look forward to hearing from you, my dear." With that, the mystery woman slipped oiut of the luncheon. Caroline was left a bit stunned but with a card that turned out to be the key to her destiny.

Over the following week, Caroline read that card over several times. It said, "Madame Dunkirk, Personal Services." There was no address, no phone number, just an email address and a web site link. Upon trying the link, she found that there was no getting past the graphically plain home page without a password. A hint came up that the password could be obtained by submitting a request by email. Well, that was annoying! She flipped the card at her trash can and moved on.

The next morning, Caroline found that she was still intrigued by Madame Dunkrik and dove through her trash to get the card. She composed a quick email and sent it. After another boring day of lectures and stupid chores at her sorority house, she reopened her email to find a reply from Madame Dunkirk. Instead of a password, there was a request for Caroline's phone number. Are you kidding! Who did this bitch think she was, leading a girl on like that?

Caroline slammed her laptop shut and fliped the card back in the trash. But just before going to bed, curiosity beat her anger and she emailed the bitch her phone number. Within a minute there was a text on her phone from Madame Dunkirk. "Delighted with your interest. Please check out the web site immediately. I will call you shortly for your thoughts." There was a password and a phone number at the end of the message.

Upon opening the web site with the password, Caroline discovered that "Personal Services" meant Escort Services. She was instantly offended and cartoonishly angry to the point of growling then throwing her roommate's mug against the wall. How dare that cunt try to recruit her as a

prostitute

! Just then, her phone rang. It was Madame Dunkirk. Caroline barked out, "Are you kidding me? How dare you suggest that I become one of your...

Whores

! I've never been so insulted!"

"Understandable, my dear. But, you are simply mistaken. When it comes to services you might perform at Dunkirk, you would never have to touch or be touched by the client."

"That doesn't make any sense! Everyone knows that 'escort' means prostitute."

"In this case, my dear, it is merely a ruse. Clearly, there are some things that have not been covered by your Ivy League education. If you wish to dismiss this opportunity before you have any more details, I will honor your decision and lose your contact information. However, if there is still a part of you that is intrigued, I would like to invite to lunch, tomorrow. We can discuss, amongst other matters, your favorite subject, yourself."

Caroline's anger had nearly dissipated, and she could use an excuse to get away from her dreadful studies. "Well, allright, I accept. But, I don't see what you and your 'services' company could possibly offer me."

"I promise, my dear, that and the rest of your questions will be answered...Let me leave you with this; how would you like to have powerful men, and a few women, follow

your

orders and cater to your every whim? While you think about that, I'll hand you over to my assistant who will give you details about our lunch tomorrow. Have a good evening, my dear."

Caroline was still apprehensive, yet anxious to learn more. The young and obviously gay male assistant gave her the time and directions to rendezvous with a driver at the train station. After the phone call, she got into bed but slept little. And the next morning, she skipped her classes, dressed in her best professional-looking suit and plain black pumps then took a train into New York City. At Grand Central Station, there was a town car driver holding up a placard with her name. The ride brought her to the heart of Manhattan near Rockerfeller Center. Then a long elevator ride took her to the penthouse suite of one of the more prestigious addresses in the city. A well-dressed Latino male greeted her then escorted her to a glass-enclosed terrace with an absolutely breath-taking view of the city. She was seated at small table set for two, and after being offered a drink ( she chose sparkling water ) and given an apology for Madame Dunkirk's delay, she was left alone with that view, possibly to complete the impression that she was in the presence of one with real power.

Before that impression could begin to fade for Caroline, her hostess arrived and seated herself. "Welcome, my dear, and thank you for coming on such short notice. I must admit that I get a bit anxious when I encounter great talent. That thrill is only topped when such talent lives up to it's potential."

"Uh, thank you, Madame Dunkirk. But, I'm still unclear as to what sort of talent you see in me and what you would have me do with it."

"All in good time, my dear. Now, my chef has prepared a nice lunch for us, healthy yet satisfying, I hope." There was a signal to her Latino assistant to serve the meal. It was a nice turkey paninni with a cup of minestrone soup.

It was truly delightful, but Caroline didn't let it distract her from her need to pry information out of the enigma who had summoned her. "From you comments, last night, Madame, the only thing that comes to mind is that you want me to become some sort of dominatrix. Or, am I way off?"

"Actually, my dear, you've hit it dead on. I employ those with a variety of talents. They service an exclusive clientele who pay to be catered to in many different ways. One very popular fashion is to be dominated by an attractive young female who can do so with complete confidence. And, my dear, you have that in spades!"

"Okay...Thank you. But, I don't really know how I could ever satisfy anyone who was into that sort of thing. I actually find them rather revolting."

"My dear, that's exactly the attitude they would want and expect you to have. They want to be treated like bad little children. Bad children who deserve to be punished. And that punishment becomes worth spending a considerable amount of money and time when it is administered in inventive ways.

"We would teach you some of those ways, but expect you to eventually improvise beyond without resorting to absolute cruelty or depravity. They are clients, and we rely on their repeat business. To that end, we would outfit you appropriately, then pair you with another 'Mistress.' But, I suspect that you will catch on rather quickly and be ready to excel on your own."

"Oh, uh...I don't know about this."

"There's no rush, my dear. If you need time to think it over, take it. However, if you

are

willing to get started, we could do so as early as this evening. It's quite up to you." Caroline nodded and took another bite of her pannini. They ate in silence for a while, then Madame Dunkirk interjected, "Oh, did I mention that you will start earning at $ 200 per hour with a typical session being two to three hours?..plus tip."

Being in debt from student loans, Caroline's reservations all but vanished. "Do you mean that I could make more than $ 400 a night, right away?"

"Oh yes, more for longer sessions and almost double that when you get booked on your own."

"Okay, I'm in." With that, as soon as lunch was completed, Caroline was whisked off to a stylist to out fit her as Madame Dunkirk's version of a dominatrix.

With few exceptions, black was the uniform color for this kind of work. That's what Caroline saw as she entered the store mere minutes after concluding lunch with Madame Dunkirk. There were racks upon racks of hard, edgy looks punctuated with leather and chains. She was greeted, if you can call being circled critically, by a rather plain yet severe-looking woman of undetermined age named Gretchen.

"Pull you hair back for me." Gretchen ordered Caroline after barking orders at her assistant in German. "Yes, that will do. I'd rather not have to chop your hair off, especially if you can pull off the high pony-tail look. The body isn't too bad. Could use some toning. When was the last time you were in a gym? No matter! You will come to ours every morning until your body is perfect."

"But, I have classes in the morning."

"Then you will come before! It's open 24 hours. But, I warn you, that the harshest instructors are here early. Until we achieve perfection, we can use spandex. Spandex gets rather hot, but no matter...Show me your hands. Your hands, now!...Oh, they're disgusting! Have you never heard of a manicure? No matter, we'll do them while we wok on your make-up. We do this

one

time

. Ja? Then, you will be on your own. So pay close attention. Come, come!" With that, Caroline was shot into another room and handed over to a make-up artist.

Madame Dunkirk's make-up artist was Raechel, a twenty-something punk with many piercings and tattoos. But she had a smile for Caroline and made her comfortable in the salon chair. "Your skin is quite good. But, with the make-up you'll need to use, a maintenance routine is critical. I'll give you some samples and shjow you the techniques, but after that, Madame expects you to be on your own." Raechel expertly applied a foundation to Caroline's face and neck, then showed her each brush and product before applying. All with Caroline watching in the mirror.

When the make-over was finished, Caroline had been completely transformed. Dark tones dominated her features with blue-black eyeliner creating cat eyes, accented high cheek bones and violet lip gloss. Caroline gave a wry smile feeling ready to intimidate with her new look. But Raechel caught her before she could move on. "Remember, this make-up and your wardrobe can only give you part of the look. The main thing is attitude. Always feel and show your superiority to the client. That's what they're paying for."

Caroline was only able to give Raechel a quick thanks as Gretchen returned to take her back to her studio. Waiting for her was a black stretch catsuit with leather accents. The outfit had a built-in corset that, as soon as Caroline slipped on, gave her massive cleavage. She stepped into biker style black leather boots with platforms allowing 7" spike heels. It was, by far the sexiest outfit she had ever worn, yet she was fully covered and didn't feel like a hooker. One step out of the dressing room and she was able to see herself in the mirror. What a Bad Ass!

Just then, Gretchen stepped back in and broke Caroline's spell of narcissism. The stylist gave her a once over then a shrug that Caroline took as approval. "You need to hurry! Marcy is waiting for you in the lobby...Go...Now!"

Caroline was handed a shopping bag with her clothes she came in along with her purse and shoved out to the lobby. Waiting for her was a woman in a white wig cut to a bob wearing a black trench coat. She was wearing boots very similar to Caroline's and carrying another trench coat on her arm. "Hi, I'm Marcy. You must be Caroline. Here, put this on." She handed over the trench coat. "Gretchen always forgets to give you something to travel in. Let's go! We've got a car waiting to take us to the Studio where we have a client who will be waiting for us."

"Uh, thanks" Caroline managed to utter as they stepped out the door and into the town car. "It's nice to meet you."

"Uh huh. Look, we don't have a lot of time. The Studio is just a couple of blocks away, and I have to prep you. First; Caroline, is that your real name?"

"Of course."

"You can't use it, then. You need an alias. For today, you will be 'Mistress Lydia.' Got it?"

"Well okay. I do have a cousin named Lydia, and she..."

"Nevermind! We're going to go with that, for now. Next; this is

my

client, so the fee is mine and most fo the tip. For just being there and doing exactly what I say, I'll give you $ 100 plus a split of the tip. That's

if

you don't screw up. We good?" Caroline nodded. "Okay, the client's name is Derrick. He's an easy one. He likes the standard small whip and get's off on humiliation and nothing gross. He's obedient to a fault, but to keep him and others like him coming back, we never let him get off in front of us. Near the end of the session, we give them a tease then permit them to masturbate. But, then we leave. We're not hookers. He tips well, and we get half the fee. You

will

follow my lead! Touch him only with your instruments. ( I'll give you a spare whip along with a crop and a paddle ) And

never

look like you enjoy this. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." Caroline felt adrenaline crank up her body and mood. She was really going to get to humiliate a man and have him pay for it!

"Oh, he may ask us to make out. Are you cool with kissing me at the end of the session?"

Caroline gulped but said, "Yeah, I'm cool with that." She had zero experience with intimacy dealing with her own gender and precious little with boys. Intimidation and dominance were habits formed as soon as she noticed girls in her peer group back down at the first sign of aggression. Her mother and teachers had talked to her about becoming "more lady-like." But mere adcvice was not enough to abandon a strategy that worked so well for her.

There was Carl who was Caroline's boyfriend in high school. He was approached by her when she noticed that nearly all the other girls had a "steady." She simply ordered him to play that role for her and threatened him with extreme violence and public humiliation should he fail to comply. She had to slap him a few times when he tried to kiss her in private, but he was otherwise under her complete control. Looking back, it was the perfect training for a dominatrix.

For Caroline there had been only personal gratification mostly by herself. There were a few times that she let Carl watch her while he yanked on himself. And the one time that he got so hard and so big that she simply had to use him. It was indeed magnificent to ride his pole to several orgasms. But when his load shot into her, she became enraged. How dare he soil and humiliate her like that! She hit him a few times then started to choke him. He was just strong enough to push her off and get away. The next day, they sat together in class as if nothing had happened. Fortunately, her period came the next week on schedule, and they never had to speak of the incident again.

As far as for kissing another woman, the thought had never really occured to Caroline. But on the silent ride in the town car with Marcy and after her reminiscence about her limited sexual experience, she thought about what it might be like to kiss another female right in front of a man under their control. It could be fun. She would never go full les, but kissing and second base might be nice.

The town car came to a halt and jolted Caroline back to the present. They were at an older building in the SoHo section, the kind with artists lofts and studios. Marcy led her into a sparse room with a very high ceiling. In the middle of this 80' sq space, the furnishings were limited to two high-back chairs in the center of the bare concrete floor. The walls were nearly as bare except for some shackles.

From out of a shadowed area, a man emerged and stood between the two chairs. He was dressed in only a black leather thong and a dog collar with an attached leash. As Marcy closed and locked the door behind them, the man got down on his hands and knees. Then as Marcy turned her full attention to him, he spoke one word, "Grape."

Marcy turned to Caroline and explained in a low soft voice, "That's the safe word. If he uses it, we stop everything and make sure he's okay. But don't worry, he won't need it." She turned to her client and used a commanding voice. "This is Mistress Lydia. You've been a good boy for several weeks, so having her here is a reward. Should you displease me in any way, I'll send her away. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress." the client said while giving a bow of his head.

"Did I say that you could speak?" Marcy stepped around behind him to give him a lash from her short whip to the back of his thigh. He gave only a slight whince. "You will show your appreciation by cleaning our boots in the usual manner." Marcy put her booted foot on the seat of one of the chairs and indicated that Caroline do the same. "Start with Mistress Lydia." The client approached Caroline's boot and started licking it as a cat would lick another. After about a minute, he started to moan. "Stop that!" Marcy barked. She then turned to Caroline and pointed to her paddle. "Punnish him."

Caroline took the took the paddle and gave the client a good whack on his buttocks. He resumed licking her boot. There were several repeats of the punishment, indicated by Marcy, until he completed licking both of their boots. Then the women took turns just sitting on his back and giving an occasional whip or paddle to butt or thigh. At one point, Caroline saw the client give a quick grin of enjoyment, but there was no more moaning.

Marcy's alarm indicated that the session was about to end. At which point, she looked directly at the client and pronounced, "You may now ask a favor. It may or may not be granted."

The Client sat up on his knees and asked, "May I have a kiss from Mistress Lydia?"

"No! You may not. But, I will have one!" Marcy put a hand behind Caroline's neck and planted a kiss that showed both passion and command. Caroline took it as part of the show and returned the kiss with some fervor. At the time, she didn't even realize that that was her first kiss from another woman.