Fem Dom

by Tony Cane-Honeysett

  Whaaam!

  “Ooooofff!”

  He fell forwards and lay sprawled on the hardwood floor. Tara immediately felt compelled to help him up but stopped herself as she saw Sissy Boy begin to crawl back to her footwear and resume his compulsion to smear her boots in his saliva.

  He wasn’t in pain, he was in Heaven.

  Tara swung back her leg and slammed a Beckhamesque right-footed kick, this time straight into Sissy Boy’s mouth.

  Craack!

  Sissy Boy fell backwards holding his jaw, a trickle of blood ran down on to his chin. Tara had caused him some real pain now but was annoyed and scared with her client’s manic behavior, though she daren’t show any fear. She had to maintain control.

  “Have you any idea how much these boots cost? Damn you!” Sissy Boy bowed his head in shame as he lay face down at her feet.

  “Sorry, sorry, Mistress Angel. I deserve to be punished, Mistress. Please punish me,” he begged.

  As Tara looked down at the pathetic, bleeding Sissy Boy, his long tongue began to dart in and out between his bloody lips, like a salivating lizard.

  “No, you don’t!” Tara had had enough of this crap. She didn’t want his spit on her boots let alone blood. She wasn’t putting up with this shit anymore. “Stand up!”

  Sissy Boy stood obediently. Tara took the small flogger back to the rack and put it back in its place. This guy needed to be taught a lesson. She grabbed the biggest whip on the rack and cracked it. Sissy Boy looked around at her.

  “Don’t look at me. Look straight ahead.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “And shut up. On your knees. Lean forward.”

  Sissy Boy crouched down, exposing his tattooed back. Tara stood several feet away and took a practice swing. Then she flashed the bullwhip down hard across his back.

  Craaaack!

  He stayed motionless, not uttering a sound. Whether she’d left a mark was hard to tell with so much ink on his back. She brought the lash down on him a second time.

  Craaaack!

  Again, no reaction. Tara wondered if her whippery was not really up to snuff or if her client had no working nerve endings. She walked over to her prostrate victim and dug her stiletto into his side. He groaned. She could see the flesh on his back welting up. She’d made her mark all right but it seemed he wanted more. As she pondered her next move, Sissy Boy leapt across the floor onto her latex boots once again flashing his tongue out like a Komodo dragon.

  He wrapped his arms around both her feet and frantically started licking her footwear again. But now his penis was fully erect. Tara struggled to keep her balance. She cracked the butt end of the whip down hard on the back of Sissy Boy’s head but he had her firmly in his grasp. She fell backwards landing with a thump on her rear end. She kicked herself free and quickly got back up on her feet again.

  “Crap!”

  Whaaam!

  Tara booted Sissy Boy hard in the side of his neck with a kick of such viciousness, he fell backwards.

  “Take that, you sick fuck!” Tara screamed.

  “Whaaaaamm!

  She swung her leg back again and smashed him in the mouth this time, at which point Mistress Krystal decided it might be a good idea to take over proceedings. She motioned for Tara to leave the playroom.

  Blood was now pouring from Sissy Boy’s mouth. His lip was badly swollen and it seemed he’d lost a tooth but if he was in pain he wasn’t making much fuss about it. He smiled and wiped away the blood as Tara slammed the kitchen door behind her.

  “You’ve annoyed Mistress Angel, Sissy Boy,” Mistress Krystal said sternly.

  “I apologize, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress Angel,” he mumbled through his swollen, bloody lips as he crawled on all fours towards Mistress Krystal’s black stilettos and began gently licking them like a kitten lapping a saucer of milk.

  Behind the closed kitchen door, Tara was shaken up. She wiped the saliva and blood off her beautiful heeled boots with a paper towel. She felt her first one-on-one session had probably gone as badly as it could have. But that was a creepy guy and she really didn’t have any regrets about kicking the living daylights out of him. What really irked her was that the pervert had enjoyed it. And where the fuck was Clem?

  Back in the playroom, Sissy Boy was now licking his way up to the top of Mistress Krystal’s stockinged leg while stroking his stiff penis.

  “If you promise to behave, Mistress Angel will come back out here and join us. Won’t you Mistress Angel?” Mistress Krystal yelled out loud enough for Tara to hear. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

  Tara took a deep breath and obeyed her teacher’s instruction. She pushed open the kitchen door and walked slowly back in to the playroom. Sissy Boy looked up to see her approach him but this time she kept her distance.

  “Stand right there, Mistress Angel. That’s right. Sissy Boy wants to look at you while he has his fun.”

  Tara stood a good ten feet from the now squatting, masturbating man. As he jerked himself harder, his groaning got louder with each messy lick of the top of Mistress Krystal’s stockings but all the while his unblinking eyes gazed fixedly on Tara. Mistress Krystal just stood there letting him do his nasty thing while Tara’s expression of utter disgust seemed only to turn him on even more. She looked away not wanting to watch what she knew was coming.

  After a few minutes of groans culminating in a series of pig-like grunts, Sissy Boy climaxed ejaculating sticky dollops of white semen over his mistress’s black stilettos.

  “Ahhhhhhhh….ahhhhhhhhhh….” he groaned ecstatically. The two women stood silently by as Sissy Boy convulsed and jerked in an orgasmic spasm that Tara found totally repugnant.

  “Clean it up!” Mistress Krystal ordered.

  A far more docile Sissy Boy obeyed, licking up his own semen from her soiled footwear but still his eyes watched Tara stomp back towards the kitchen. Tara paced up and down, still high on adrenalin. Moments later, Mistress Krystal joined her.

  “That was, without question, the freakiest most fucked up thing I’ve ever had the misfortune to be part of. What a creep!” Tara yelled, angry that Mistress Krystal had dropped her in the deep end with the depraved Sissy Boy.

  “You’ll get over it.”

  “Creepy, creepy! Crap! I can’t believe I just saw that.” Tara kept pacing but Mistress Krystal seemed unfazed. “Why’d you pick him to be my first solo client?”

  “You did great, hun,” Mistress Krystal grinned, giving Tara a compliment she wasn’t expecting and didn’t appreciate.

  “All that blood! Ugh! I think I kicked out one of his damn teeth! Disgusting.”

  “You sure did,” Mistress Krystal said, handing her Sissy Boy’s missing molar.

  “I don’t want it!” Tara squealed, pulling a sour face.

  Mistress Krystal opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Moet & Chandon.

  “Look in that cupboard. There’s a couple of Champagne flutes in there.”

  Tara breathed a huge sigh and took out two elegant slim glasses as Mistress Krystal popped the cork off the bottle of bubbly.

  “We should celebrate your first solo performance! What an outstanding debut! You were terrific. That was some hot foreplay in there.”

  “Foreplay?” Tara was bemused. “I kicked the sick fuck’s tooth out.”

  “Ha! He’s got plenty of teeth. He won’t miss one. That’s the quickest I’ve ever got him finished. Wanna grab some dinner?”

  “Sissy Boy is still in the playroom,” Tara reminded her.

  “Pah, he’ll be gone in a few. There’s a cool Sushi place up on Grandview.”

  Mistress Krystal raised her glass and took a sip of her chilled Champagne. Tara downed her glass in one gulp. She couldn’t think of any reason why she shouldn’t accept the offer to go out and eat.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Sushi Tango was slammed with diners but both Mistresses Krystal and Angel were well anchored at the sushi bar and back in their regular attire. The fa
ilure of Clem to appear at six o’clock was a huge weight off her shoulders but she was still reeling from the experience with Sissy Boy. Tara chased down her glass of Moet with a cup of warm sake.

  “So how can you ever be sure one of your clients isn’t a raving nut job with a criminal record or something?” Tara asked, as she dipped her yellowtail nigiri into a small bowl of soy sauce.

  “You learn pretty quick how to spot the wackos,” Mistress Krystal said, looking more like a normal human being without all her dramatic make-up and wild hairstyle. “And I video every session in case I need police evidence,” she added.

  “Seriously?”

  “I’ve got two little cameras way up high in the corner. Plus, my heaviest weaponry is close at hand and it’s got live ammo in it.”

  “Everything is recorded on video?”

  “Insurance.”

  “And you got a loaded gun?”

  “Magnum. Same as Dirty Harry.”

  “Wow. I didn’t realize you were so buttoned up in the security department!”

  Tara was impressed and intrigued. That meant that there would be video evidence that Clem was one of her clients. Mistress Krystal looked around for a sake server as she gulped down her third cup. The more she drank, the looser Mistress Krystal’s behavior became. Tara saw this as her opportunity to glean more information about this woman and some of her other clients though the combination of Champagne and sake wasn’t sitting too well with Tara.

  “So what’s your real name?” Tara asked.

  “What’s yours?” Mistress Krystal shot back. Tara didn’t like that reply so she changed the subject.

  “You must have a lot of videos then?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Y’know, you could record directly onto your computer, or get an external hard drive,” Tara suggested.

  “Nah, I’m old school,” replied Mistress Krystal, who still hadn’t touched her food.

  “So Sissy Boy’s in the ad biz, huh?” Tara asked nonchalantly, probing for more information.

  “Yep. I need another drink. Where’s our waitress?”

  “Any other advertising executives on your roster of illustrious clients?” Tara asked pointedly.

  “Not that I know of. I’ve got eleven regulars -- a judge, an ad guy – that’s Sissy Boy -- doctor, a lawyer, some CEO, and the others I have no clue what they do nor do I care.”

  “Don’t forget Mr. Winkle.”

  “Oh yeah, and Winkle.”

  “So you must have some type of normal conversation with these characters sometimes.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “But you honestly don’t know any of their real names?” Tara pressed, still wanting to know for sure if Clem was on her roster. Mistress Krystal looked Tara in the eye.

  “Look, hun. I told you. I don’t need to know their real names. And I don’t particularly care to. Less I know the better. I suppose all this will be in the book you’re writing, huh?”

  “What book?”

  “Or article, or thesis, or report,” Mistress Krystal jabbed.

  “No. I’m no writer,” Tara laughed.

  Mistress Krystal scanned the restaurant. “These damn waitresses are serving everyone in here except us. Hey! Can we get another round of sakes over here?”

  One of the pretty young Oriental girls finally appeared with a fresh warm pot. Tara realized that Mistress Krystal wasn’t going to reveal any details about any of her clients however much booze she knocked back. She probably knew all the real names of all of them but there was no way she was going to spill the beans. Tara was dealing with one shrewd cookie muncher even though she was now fairly inebriated. Maybe Clem was this woman’s best client and she’d twigged that he was married to Tara. After all, she couldn’t have been the first suspicious or jealous wife she’d had to deal with. Tara was being out-maneuvered with sublime brilliance by a mistress who was a master -- of the human psyche. This would be a battle of wits she couldn’t win.

  But what if she could get to see those videotapes?

  “I need a vacation,” Mistress Krystal announced with a hint of a slur. “Been waaaay too long.”

  “You’re your own boss. I’m sure your clients could survive a week or two without you.”

  “No, I’m talking about a real vacation. Like three months on a beach somewhere.”

  Tara dabbed her yellowtail nigiri in the green wasabi and put the whole piece in her mouth. “Mmmmm…yeah, I see your point,” she mumbled as she looked hungrily at the ten pieces of nigiri tuna still on Mistress Krystal’s plate.

  “You could do this job,” Mistress Krystal slurred.

  “No, I couldn’t.” Tara’s focus was still on the uneaten raw slices of fish.

  “Why don’t you run the show while I take a break?” Mistress Krystal smiled.

  “I hope you’re not being serious.”

  “Three months. The time will fly, believe me.”

  “No way. I don’t want Sissy Boy jerking off on me and Mr. Winkle urinating all over the place and God knows what your other clients get off doing.”

  “Look, Angelina. You’re younger than me, prettier than me and in better shape than me. I’m forty-nine years old and I need a damn vacation.”

  “You said you were forty-seven,” Tara reminded her.

  “Forty-seven, fifty-two, ninety-one, who cares? Close enough. Look, Sissy Boy nearly creamed his pants the second he saw you. All my clients will just fawn all over you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Tara added.

  “Then why the did you go and buy all the gear? That was a wad of cash, hun. I know you’re getting off on this shit.”

  “I don’t have the stomach for it. But I’ll admit it’s interesting, in a very creepy, depraved way.”

  “Interesting? Interesting? That has to be the understatement of the century. Working in a laboratory is interesting.”

  “I meant learning how the mind of the male species works. That’s a real education.”

  “They’re wired totally differently to us, that’s for sure. It’s all visual to them. You know, hun, there are plenty of women out there in this line of work. And once you get a few regulars, you want to keep them.”

  Mistress Krystal wasn’t giving up. She seemed determined to throw Tara in the deep end even though she could still barely swim. No, this was not why Tara was doing this but she couldn’t tell Mistress Krystal the truth. Not at this late stage in the game.

  “It’s sure as shit more interesting than what you’re doing right now,” Mistress Krystal muttered as she finally started to tuck into her food. She was right about that, too.

  “Don’t you ever worry about running into one of your clients?” Tara asked, wanting to change tact.

  “No. Why should I? They’re a lot more worried about running into me.”

  “So you don’t date and you’re not married?” Tara was prying now.

  “I never said that,” Mistress Krystal shot back.

  “I just assumed -- I mean your apartment on Calloway is quite small to work and live”

  Mistress Krystal gave Tara a quizzical look. “What apartment on Calloway?”

  Tara laughed. “The one we were just at!”

  Mistress Krystal laughed out loud. “Hun, what are you smoking? My place is on Robertson.”

  Now Tara was the one with the confused expression. She then realized she’d only ever entered the apartment from the rear of the building.

  “Robertson?”

  “Maybe you’re just a ditz.”

  Mistress Krystal leaned over to bite into another piece of sushi while Tara paused and thought hard. She’d never actually seen what the front of the apartment building looked like. In fact, Tara had never even been on that street as she’d always entered via the back way under the iron stairwell. She’d simply assumed that it was 1611 Callaway, as Jack Kelsey had told her when he showed his videotape of Clem arriving and leaving. Now she was really confused about everything. If Mis
tress Krystal didn’t live at 1611 Callaway, who did?

  “How long have you lived there on Robertson Street then?” Tara asked.

  “I’ve never lived there, I just work there,” Mistress Krystal replied, shoving in another mouthful of tuna and washing it down with more sake. “I don’t want anyone knowing where I live.”

  Now Tara’s mind was racing. If Mistress Krystal worked on Robertson Street, who in the world was Clem secretly visiting on Callaway? Maybe it was Justine after all. Or maybe it was some other mystery woman. Her ingenious plan to trap her husband in the act was an abject failure. She’d gotten it all wrong. She’d been at the wrong location all along. Now she would have to re-think everything.

  “I think we’re done,” Tara announced emphatically. Mistress Krystal still had three succulent pieces of sushi on her wooden tray waiting to be devoured and wasn’t ready to leave.

  “I’m not done, Angelina. I also want another drink,” Mistress Krystal slurred. Tara counted out forty dollars and slapped it down on the sushi bar.

  “I gotta go.” Tara stood up, threw down her napkin and made her way through the crowded sushi bar towards the exit. Mistress Krystal shrugged and carried on eating as she ignored Tara walking out. She was more interested in catching the eye of the waitress.

  “Hey, another drink over here!”

  As Tara drove home, she felt very conflicted. Her sessions with Mistress Krystal had made her feel good about herself in a way she had never experienced before and certainly hadn’t expected. She liked the feeling of being in control. But now this was all moot. If Clem wasn’t seeing Mistress Krystal there was no need for her to see her anymore. But why was that card in his jacket?

  Maybe Mistress Krystal did live on Calloway Avenue after all and was simply lying to Tara. The only to find out who did live there was to go ring the bell at number 1611 and find out. And she might as well do it right now.

  Tara took the next exit off the interstate and pulled over to the side of the road. She was still a little dizzy from all the alcohol she’d consumed but this was a sobering moment. She quickly punched the Calloway address into her GPS and made a U-turn. It was getting late but there was still some blue in the dusky evening sky. As she headed back to south Minneapolis, Tara ran various scenarios through her head but nothing seemed to make much sense.