by Ruby Madden
Fucking hell…
About the only other thing that could get Mistress Cherry off my mind was food. What was I going to have for dinner? I was restless and decided that going out for the evening was needed. I’d take my convertible and head down to the pier. Soak up some sunshine, eat seafood and watch a game at an upper-scale sports bar. Call a buddy to have some drinks with me and then head home. If I was lucky, my head would hit the pillow and I’d get some sleep – all thoughts of Mistress Cherry pushed aside.
Fortunately, my old college roomie and good friend was available. He was in town for work and he’d join me at seven. He’d told me that he’d met someone new recently. A curly-haired, blonde Rapunzel type that he was head over heels for.
Early on in our college friendship at Stanford, we had figured out that we shared a preference for a particular type of woman. We both liked plus-size, rubenesque and buxom beauties – commonly known as BBW’s.
It had happened when he first found my porn collection by accident on my computer. I was letting him use my computer to finish a particularly difficult assignment as his laptop was dying and he’d yet gone out to buy a new one.
At first, I found myself quickly making up excuses about all the sexed-up plumpers on my hard drive, but he was soon lost in my collection and admiring and lusting right along with me.
The funny thing about my friend is that he now works at the world’s premier sports-gear and apparel company and finds himself dating a never-ending stream of thin and athletic blond women to put up appearances with his employer and co-workers.
It frustrates him endlessly.
We hold back nothing with each other when it comes to women, sex and our love lives. For both us, this was frustrating for all the usual reasons, but added to it was the layer that we hadn’t ever really been able to come out, so to speak, to the world about the type of woman we were sexually attracted and drawn to. More or less, we were fat admirers. Men who lusted after soft, round, plentiful curves and the sweet personalities of the plus-size woman.
We’d discussed it at great length and we were each at that place in life where the pursuit of our happiness was becoming more and more paramount. This included being able to openly explore our preferred desires.
He was the only person who knew I had retained the services of a Mistress and he was eager to hear about how my first session went. I wasn’t so sure I could tell him everything let alone if I was brave enough to do so? Either way, there was one person in the world besides myself who would soon know about my new secret. As far as I was concerned, that was already one too many.
{ MISTRESS }
I was amused by Ethan’s latest email. He was doing an excellent job of begging elegantly. I would dismiss it and ignore him, what he paid me to do for him required this necessary sacrifice of course.
As the best Femme-Domme, I would not allow my own wants, and needs to get in the way of what I provided in the way of services for my client. Besides, for the plan to work, I needed to remind myself of extraordinary patience.
I shut my laptop and stood up to grab my purse. “Henry, I’m ready.” I called out as I strode to the front door.
He appeared quickly out of nowhere. As usual, he was silent except for his eyes which conveyed he was ready as well. We walked out of my place and to the elevator.
As I typically do when out and about with Henry, I checked my phone as the elevator hummed us down to the parking levels. He was a man of few words and I learned early on that he knew the fine art of being unobtrusive while serving his Masters. The beauty of it, he seemed the most content with his chosen profession when it involved very little conversation.
There was always plenty of interaction between the two of us, but precious little dialogue from Henry. We were an interesting fit, but it worked. He got me. He understood that I didn’t have any pretenses with him. The man could read my journal and probably come away from it having learned very little. That is how well he understood me.
Henry took care of me in all the ways I needed a man to care for me – but one.
He’d never speak of it, but he enjoyed being my employee – my paid caretaker and servant. I never took him for granted, never assumed. I was always polite, respectful and courteous of his time, his faithful presence. He had become my most valuable asset in many ways. Very few knew I had a bona-fide butler and that was on purpose. I’d made certain that he knew I valued him and he was to inform me if anyone ever dared offer him a place in their home.
Sometimes, I’d find myself more or less having a solo-conversation, using Henry to bounce things off of when it came to work and my clients. I imagined what our interaction would seem like to the unobservant. It would appear as if I was the crazy woman talking out loud and with herself getting no answers from her paid servant.
However, for those who were observant, they would note that Henry spoke to me loud and clear, with his facial expressions, body language and the rare few utterances of one to three word replies. “Yes, ma’am.” “No, ma’am.” “Agreed, ma’am.” “Quite certain, ma’am.”
I marveled at it really, the benefit was never-ending. Especially since I knew a great deal about him and his personal life. Certainly, he had his privacy, but he quietly pursued his interests with his spare time.
Today was animal shelter day.
Twice a month, I spend time caring for, training and taking care of unwanted animals. The world was full of unwanted pets, animals that were at the fate of the bad humans who brought them into the world. Human pets had a choice in the matter hopefully, real pets usually didn’t.
With Henry behind the wheel, I enjoyed the scenic drive.
Seattle is a city with amazing views. As the Emerald city of the Pacific Northwest, I had chosen it as my part-time home for the lush green foliage and the endless rain. I’d always preferred a rainy day to a sunny day, something that had been hard to explain to most people in my life. I liked the calm, meditative contemplation that the ocean of grey afforded its residents.
Not to mention the close proximity to all the sea water.
My phone chirped and I looked to find a message from Sir Vlad, my former Master from my twenties. I grinned. No man had power over me like he did. It was he who made me, who was astute enough to see me as the Alpha woman I am.
It was he who was brave enough to break me, remake me and teach me how to recreate myself.
How to master myself.
He also had an uncanny connection to me. Almost psychic. We had remained in close contact over the years
As usual, he referred to me with his affectionate endearment, despite the many years that had passed since our last erotic interludes.
Once a Master to someone, always a Master.
I read his text message.
‘pet, Might I send you the latest manuscript, I need your opinion.’
My thumbs texted quickly; ‘Of course Sir, it would be my pleasure, as always.’
‘Good, thank you. How goes your hunt for your very own pet?’
I giggled and then texted a reply; ‘Scene one is done. I was a very greedy Mistress. Tsk-tsk…’
There was a bit of a delay, but I found myself on the edge of the proverbial seat, just like in the old days. The only thing I ever feared was his disapproval. I may no longer wear his collar or be on his leash, but his opinion and influence over me was profound. I respected him more than any other Man on the planet.
‘pet, you deserve the most glorious love of a devoted puppy. I trust you to be mindful of the basics. You’re a brilliant woman, remember? Think of what it was like for you, with me – how fragile that bond was, the way to trust. Be mindful…’
I sighed. He was completely right, naturally. Just interacting with him put me in a sort of semi-subspace. I looked out the car window watching the scenery going by.
‘As always, thank you Sir… thank you…’
‘The manuscript is on its way. ttyl, xo ~ Sir V’
* * *
Henry was parking the car and I realized we had arrived.
I stepped out of the car and went inside. Henry would wait for me until I was ready to leave.
The receptionist immediately called out my name in an affectionate hello. “Cherry! Boy are we glad to see you today. We have a problem child.”
I was in casual mode, wearing a velvet jumpsuit that was practical, comfortable and I didn’t care if it got dirty or ruined.
“Hi Sherri, good to see you too. Tell me about this problem child.” I beamed a smile at her.
She stood up to escort me in and to buzz me pass the entrance into the main area of the shelter where staff and volunteers were allowed.
“He’s just about a year old, we think. A bull-dog rescue. He was being trained to fight. Very aggressive, we’re having a hard time working with him, so he’s being sedated via his food. He’s muzzled. We’re afraid we may have to put him down if we don’t start making progress soon.”
“Got it. What are we calling him?” I asked.
“That’s just it, he isn’t named yet.”
I frowned. “Please tell me he is at least collared?”
She shook her head, “Nope. He’s that aggressive. We can’t get him collared yet.”
I sighed, “Got it.”
We’d walked and talked the whole way to his kennel cage. Sure enough, he came at us aggressively. It scared the receptionist away. I stood my ground and caught the beast’s eyes. He continued to growl. I slowly pulled up a chair and sat down, remaining in my spot. I held his gaze. He was indeed an Alpha. He finally relented though.
He looked away and laid down.
We stayed this way for a while. I allowed him the comfort of not needing to be on guard. I was protecting him. Instinct kicked in and he became more docile.
I moved closer to him. He growled but remained on the ground. He didn’t rise. This was a good sign.
There we sat. I was working on his name. He needed to be named before I left. Hopefully collared. But definitely named.
“Gris.” I said out loud. It was the French word for the color grey. He was a grey bull-dog. Beautiful coat, steel grey eyes. Highly unique.
He lifted up his head and peered at me.
“Gris.” I sad it again.
He tilted his head sideways. I had to keep from laughing, it was super adorable.
“Gris, it’s good to meet you.”
Damien, the shelter’s vet stepped up beside me. “You’re simply amazing. Look at him.”
I smiled. “Make sure everyone calls him by his name, Gris. As much as possible. Say it often and over and over again. Be simple. You know how this works.”
“That I do, but you have the unique gift of making an impact.”
“We’re a team, we’re his pack now. He needs to feel as if he belongs. Don’t you Gris?”
Gris let out a low grumble.
Damien handed me a collar. “Work your magic Cherry.”
I winked at him and admired his cute ass as he walked away to get back to work on the other animals at the shelter. Quicker than lightning, I imagined using the collar he’d just handed me on him, and not the pit-bull. I chuckled to myself. Damien was paid under my annual charitable contribution to the shelter, but didn’t know it.
I pulled the bag of treats from my jumpsuit pocket. I talked softly to Gris and scooted closer. He got defensive again and barked. But no growling. Gris moved backwards in his kennel.
Poor guy, he was really abused. I was sad for him, but grateful he’d been rescued.
We stayed like this for a while. I wasn’t so sure I could get a collar on him. It meant opening his kennel door and hand’s-on contact. I decided he would need more time. I’d come back each day for the next week and do exactly what I was doing with him today.
Before I left, I managed to get him to take a treat from me. I slipped it into the cage and left it on the floor. I remained close. I continued to talk to him softly, firmly and said his name over and over.
Gris eventually inched forward and accepted his treat, his reward.
“Good boy Gris, good boy…” I was proud of him, he’d made a lot of progress in one day, one session.
I stood to go and when I turned around, Damien was leaning against a table observing.
“Do all male creatures have this response to you Cherry?” He asked.
I let out a low laugh. “Yes, actually. Well, most of them do.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second. How have you been?” Damien asked.
“Oh, par for the course, the usual. You?”
I never revealed my true profession to the animal shelter staff. They knew my education and credentials in behaviorism and probably assumed I was a psychologist working for one of the local hospitals or with an independent practice.
“Good, things are good.” Damien said, looking hesitant.
A tall, attractive, well-built black man, I’d always admired his gentle, amber eyes and his manner with the animals. He genuinely cared about the animal kingdom and it showed.
I smiled back at him and realized he seemed a bit nervous, a bit off-guard.
“Would you be interested in going to dinner one of these nights, Cherry?” Damien asked.
I was somewhat surprised by his offer to take me out on a date. Flattered too, and interested.
“Yes, actually. That would be lovely.” I smiled flirtatiously at him.
“Really? Great.” He beamed a smile back at me. He stepped forward. “So, I was thinking next Saturday evening? Around eight? Does that work?”
I nodded, “It does.”
He handed me his business card. A formal gesture considering I knew exactly how to reach him. I wrote my private cell number on it and gave it back to him. “I know your number, but here is my private number. Call me or text me. I’m looking forward to it.”
“As am I.” He stepped away, a bit hesitant.
“Talk to you soon.” I said and then turned to leave. I peeked over my shoulder. He was watching me walk away.
I winked back at him. He got a little flustered and grinned big, then strode away.
Once settled in the car, I thought about what had just happened. Was it possible that I was going to get not just one of my main desires, but both?
If so, this meant I would need to be very judicious about moving forward. I’d always wanted an intimate relationship with two men at the same time. A true menage a trois.
Would I be biting off more than I could chew? Tempting fate? Could it be that the universe was finally allowing my most secret of desires to manifest?
Time would tell…
“The Dominatrix is, in a sense, a sorceress of the psychosexual.”
~ Anne O Nomis
( The History & Arts of the Dominatrix p. 218)
* * *
{ ethan }
Three days passed. Seventy-two hours.
I’d never suffered so much. The need to get relief was becoming excruciating. It was embarrassing. Unbearable. All of my obsessive tendencies were oscillating around my need for her… Mistress Cherry.
I’d awoken again with a raging erection. Typically, I’d just wank-off and take a shower. Or get off in the shower. But no. Mistress said no contact of any kind.
No masturbation. No getting off. Nada. Zip.
I laid there in bed, staring down at the tippy-tip point of the sheet, my erect bulge straining beneath the very soft sensation of the cotton sheet. I took a deep breath.
Willing myself to not man-handle myself was requiring more willpower than I would have ever imagined.
Lying there, I almost slipped. Almost firmly gripped my hard manhood. Almost started to self-pleasure myself…
I groaned.
Get out of bed. Get out of bed. Get out of bed…
Striding from my bedroom to my office, my full erection wagging in the air, stealing all the blood-flow from my brain,
I made my way to my desk.
I blinked when I saw that I’d received an email reply from Mistress Cherry. I sat down immediately and clicked on it.
Dearest pup:
I’ve considered your request and we can add virtual/electronic sessions if you like? I can allow one (1) to two (2) electronic visits per week during your training.
Since it has been three (3) days since our last session, I anticipate you have need for another one soon? Please let me know if you would like to schedule a session today, in the afternoon? I have openings at 1 pm and 4 pm.
Be a good boy!
XOXO,
Mistress Cherry
Oh good Goddess yes! My fingers flew across the keyboard in response. Thank the stars she was showing some mercy. I needed it.
Dearest Mistress,
I’m so humbly grateful for your mercy. I would like to request a session at 1 pm today, please. Eagerly awaiting to be in your presence, virtual and otherwise.
Devotedly,
Your pup, ethan
I looked at the time. Nine am. Okay, only four more hours to go. I shook my head and gazed down at my erection.
I was pitiful. Or, her hook in me was already that deep. Perhaps both.
Definitely both.
* * *
At 1 pm, right on time, an instant message (IM) from Mistress Cherry popped up on my computer screen. With anticipation built to an unforgiving level, I opened it and before I could even type, Mistress started the session.
A half hour later, I was sated. Blessedly, thrillingly, satisfied…
Mistress Cherry: hi pup. Keep your hands off your cock. I love to cyber-leash. Also known as virtual leashing. This is another way to have sessions with me.
Mistress Cherry: you can be aroused and erect, but no touchy-touchy...
