“No. Leave the shoes on. Stand there for one hot minute. I’m taking a mental picture.”
Sheridan froze in a perfect pose of modest beauty. With her head turned slightly to the side and her hands lightly clasped in front of her and her face a mask of elegant composure, the thin girl with small breasts transformed into an ancient Greek statue of Aphrodite turned to flesh. The Mistress smiled at her statue. All she’d had to do was order the girl to pose for a photograph and Sheridan turned into the professional actress who commanded six figures per episode.
“You’re stunning. You know that, don’t you?” The Mistress asked.
Sheridan merely shrugged her shoulders.
“I suppose you hear it all the time from fans and casting agents. But I’m not a fan. I’m not a director. I don’t have to suck up to you to get you to spread for me. You’re paying me for the privilege of spreading for me. You paid up front. I have no reason to lie. Say ‘thank you for telling me I’m stunning, Mistress.’”
“Thank you for telling me I’m stunning, Mistress.”
“Good. There’s hope for you yet. Now sit.” The Mistress moved her legs from the settee to the floor and pointed to the crimson cushions. Sheridan sat back down as she kept her legs tightly pressed together. “Stay there.”
The Mistress pulled out her tie and unknotted it.
“I’m going to blindfold you. It’ll help you relax and focus on what you’re feeling. Do you have a safe word?”
“Kingsley told me I should pick one. It’s ‘McCarthy’s.’”
“Like the single malt whiskey?”
Sheridan smiled. “You know your alcohol.”
“Of course I do. I’m Catholic. You like whiskey?”
“Hate it. But Rex liked it. Straight.”
“He sounds Catholic.”
The smile on Sheridan’s face broadened and The Mistress nearly blinked at the brightness. The Mistress could only imagine how this girl could light up a stage.
“I can still remember what his mouth tasted like. I never wanted to drink the stuff. I was happy tasting it on him.”
“McCarthy’s it is then. I want you to be able to tell me yes, no, stop, go while we’re playing. You’ll say ‘McCarthy’s’ if and—only if—you want to stop completely, take off the blindfold and end the scene. I’ll be touching your body and every woman is different. You can give me directions if I’m doing something that doesn’t work for me. You can give me encouragement if I’m doing something that does. Understand?”
“I understand.”
The Mistress glared at the girl so hard she winced.
“I mean, yes, Mistress.”
“Better. Hold still.” The Mistress yanked her silk tie off and pulled it taut. Careful of Sheridan’s perfectly coiffed hair, The Mistress brought the tie over her head, placed it on Sheridan’s blinking eyes and knotted it at the nape of her neck. “Too tight?”
“No...it’s fine. Thank you, Mistress.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t expect...” Sheridan began and paused.
“What didn’t you expect?”
“I didn’t think you’d be nice. I don’t think nice when I hear the word Dominatrix.”
“I’m nice to all my clients even when I’m beating the shit out of them. Nice means treating someone how they want to be treated. Tonight you want to be treated with gentleness. Next time maybe you want to be treated with pain. Sounds nice, right?”
Sheridan smiled. “I might not say no.”
“Good. Now lie down on your back and breathe. Breathe slowly and deeply. I’m going to put my hands on your legs, but that’s it. I won’t touch any other part of you without warning you first.”
Sheridan obeyed but not without tentativeness. Every line of her body vibrated with fear as she rolled onto her back and slowly stretched out her legs. The Mistress decided to let the fear work in her favor. Adrenaline rushes made for beautiful orgasms. Adrenaline... The Mistress had a thought.
“Sheridan...” The Mistress placed her hands on Sheridan’s thighs right above her knees. “Were you scared when you were with Rex?”
“No. Yes.” She laughed as The Mistress began to rub her thighs. “Scared isn’t the right word. But he was older than me. I was...intimidated maybe. Rex was definitely intimidating. Strong, silent type. Sexy. Smart. I could never quite believe it was happening even when he was inside me.”
“With your most recent boyfriend, did you ever feel scared or intimidated?”
Sheridan shook her head as The Mistress made slow, easy strokes with her hand up and down the girl’s thin legs.
“Not a bit. Brett was so nice, goofy, a very sweet guy. Like a big kid.”
“And you let him fuck you?” The Mistress asked with mock horror.
“I feel like I should apologize to you, Mistress.”
“No. No need,” she sighed. “The damage is already done. No wonder you couldn’t orgasm. Must have been like letting your brother try to fuck you. No sexual tension equals no orgasm especially for a woman like you.”
“A woman like me? What am I?”
“You’re a sub. No doubt in my mind.”
The Mistress continued to caress Sheridan’s bare legs. The girl wasn’t more than five feet tall, but half of that was leg.
“Like a submissive?”
“Exactly like that. You need to be dominated to feel sexual, yes? Intimidated? Overpowered? Maybe even a little scared?”
“Yes...yes, definitely. That’s exactly it. Nothing Brett did made me feel anything. I thought I loved him because I liked him so much.”
“Liking can get in the way of lusting a lot of the times. Some of my best orgasms have come from men I wanted to beat into unconsciousness. You know, after they were done fucking me.”
“It would be nice to be with someone who makes me feel like it’s, I don’t know...”
“Like it’s an honor to be with him? Like you’re his personal sexual property? Like you exist just to spread your legs for him whenever he orders you to?”
“That, Mistress.”
“I know the feeling. Trust me.”
“I kind of...I sort of feel that with you. Kingsley said you weren’t taking any new clients. Too busy. Too in demand. But you made an exception for me.”
“Of course I did. I saw you.”
Sheridan blushed. The Mistress slid her hands between Sheridan’s thighs and gently pressed them apart. They opened easily for her. Good. Tension helped with an orgasm. Terror didn’t.
“I’ve topped royalty,” The Mistress said, wanting to remind her new client just how lucky she was to be in her capable hands. “Real royalty with bodyguards standing right outside the door the entire time. Rock stars. Politicians. Millionaires. Billionaires. I could name them and you’d faint from shock that they were in the scene. That’s how important I am. That’s how busy I am. But Kingsley told me about you. I watched an interview you did. The reporter asked you if you had a boyfriend. I’ve never seen a sadder, faker smile in my life, Little Miss.”
“I like that,” Sheridan confessed as The Mistress caressed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
“Like that I’ve topped rich and famous people? Richer and more famous than you? Or liked that I watched your interview?”
Sheridan shook her head.
“I liked that you called me Little Miss.”
Once again, The Mistress was seized with a nearly unconquerable urge to kiss the girl. But she restrained herself. Just barely.
“Glad you like it. That’s what I’ll call you from now on—my Little Miss. Now my Little Miss needs to take a deep breath. I’m going to start touching more of you—arms, stomach, hips and breasts, in that order.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Sheridan nodded
her nervous little head and The Mistress moved in closer between Sheridan’s open thighs.
First, as promised, she started with Sheridan’s arms at the wrists and stroked upward to her shoulders with dancing fingertips. Delicate shivers passed through Sheridan’s body at the lightness of the touch.
Second, she brought her hands down Sheridan’s arms to her wrists, again pressed tight to her sides and crossed over to the girl’s trembling stomach. The Mistress laid her hand flat under her rib cage and felt the muscles flutter underneath.
Third she tickled Sheridan’s narrow girlish hips with her thumbs, tracing the bones.
“You need to eat more, Little Miss.”
“I eat all the time, Mistress. I promise. I just can’t gain weight. I’m going to look fourteen forever.”
“There are worse fates—working for Kingsley, for starters.”
Sheridan gave a little giggle.
“I like him. Is he really that bad?”
“Terrible. It’s impossible to get any work done with him around talking French at you and being all suave and seductive. Sometimes I fuck him just to shut him up.”
“Poor you, Mistress.”
“Tell me about it.”
As Sheridan dissolved again into laughter, The Mistress slid her hands upward and covered the girl’s breasts with both hands.
Then the laughter stopped.
The Mistress smiled. Just the reaction she wanted.
At first, The Mistress did nothing but let the heat of her hands seep into Sheridan’s body through her breasts. Under her palms, she felt Sheridan’s nipples harden.
“You have beautiful breasts, Little Miss. Perfectly shaped. Beautiful nipples the color of pink roses.”
“I have no breasts. I’m an A-cup.” Sheridan sounded genuinely upset with her own body. “I should get implants. My agent says—”
“Fuck your agent. You get implants and you could lose sensitivity. Are fake boobs really worth never feeling this again?” The Mistress punctuated her sentence by gently pinching both of Sheridan’s nipples, a move that elicited one of the more erotic gasps ever uttered since the invention of gasping.
“No...I’d hate to lose that,” Sheridan confessed.
“Then don’t. Your body is perfect. Don’t fuck with it. That’s my job.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good girl. Now shut up and lay there. I’ve got a girl to get off.”
A new smile appeared on Sheridan’s face in place of the old, nervous smile. This smile was amorous, heated, sexy beyond description and exactly what The Mistress was going for.
For a good ten minutes (a very good ten minutes in The Mistress’s estimation) she focused her attentions on Sheridan’s breasts, nipples and chest. Men rarely understood the power of focusing attention on one part of the body at a time. A few lucky women could even achieve orgasm from breast stimulation alone. The Mistress doubted Sheridan had that power but she’d need as much foreplay as she could stand if the long-awaited orgasm was to come.
The Mistress moved slowly...tracing circles around Sheridan’s breast with a fingertip before spiraling up to her nipple and back down again. Pinches turned to gentle kneading and back again. Soon Sheridan’s chest moved in rapid pants and her nipples turned from pale pink to red.
“Are you enjoying this, Little Miss?”
“So much...you really know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve got a gift for giving women orgasms. I give myself an orgasm at least once a day.”
Sheridan giggled again and her blush deepened. Good. Flushed skin was one of the telltale signs of an aroused woman. But it would take more than just stimulating her body to get Sheridan to orgasm. The Mistress needed to get inside her mind.
“You know, Little Miss, this isn’t my only job,” The Mistress said as she ran her fingers over Sheridan’s collarbone, giving her breasts a moment to recover from all the attention. “I’m also a writer.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I write erotica. I love a good sexy story. Reading them, writing them, hearing them.”
“Me, too. I learned all about sex from my mother’s romance novels. I think that’s why when Rex came on to me that first time, I jumped at the chance. I couldn’t wait to try out all this stuff I’d been reading about.”
“How did the reality of sex compare to the fictional version?”
Sheridan sighed. “It was definitely different. I was in my dad’s office for one thing. In the books, they’re always in a bed...or maybe a carriage, not bent over an armchair or flat on a desk.”
“Never fucked in a carriage. I’ll have to put that on my bucket list. Continue.”
“It hurt more than I expected. In the books there’s always just this quick stab of pain and then ecstasy.”
“Well, it’s the writer’s way of throwing in some drama to an otherwise simple and natural act. But too much pain and drama, and it turns into a horror story.”
Sheridan grinned and lifted her hips. Another good sign. Sheridan couldn’t seem to stop moving her lower body. That meant she was feeling something in the right spot.
“It wasn’t a horror story. Definitely. It just really burned going in. I was wet and excited but not ready. Not really. The next time was a lot better.”
“Can you remember your favorite time with him? The best sex? The best orgasm?”
“Yes. Like it was yesterday.”
“Tell me about it. I’m going to start touching your clit, by the way, while you tell me about the best sex you ever had. Don’t argue with me about it.”
“I wouldn’t.” She shook her head and took a quick, deep breath. “I was eighteen, just turned eighteen...about to leave Chicago and move to New York. I’d done some commercials and got an agent. My dreams were coming true. But...”
“But you had to leave Rex behind.”
“Right. I didn’t want him to know I was going. If he tried to talk me out of it, he might have. So I knew it would be our last time for a few months at least. I went to his house one evening. He wasn’t expecting me. My flight left the very next morning, but I didn’t tell him that.”
“What did he do?”
“He opened the door and saw him standing on the stoop. And he pulled me inside and without saying anything he kissed me.”
“Very nice.”
“I loved when he did that. Every time I showed up on his doorstep, I was afraid I’d make him mad. Maybe he’d have company over or something and wish I hadn’t shown up. I wasn’t even his mistress. I was just his dirty secret. But every time I went over there...yeah, just like that.”
“And then?”
“And then he was all over me...right in the foyer. I had on a plaid skirt—”
“How very Catholic schoolgirl of you.”
“Episcopal actually.”
“Don’t kill my lady-boner. I’m pretending it was Catholic. Go on. He was all over you how?”
“Hands everywhere. Mouth everywhere. He liked to bite when he kissed me. My lips and tongue and neck and ears. He’d dig under my skirt and shove his hand into my panties.”
“You wore panties around him? Such a waste of time.”
“Only because I loved hearing him grunt with frustration when he had to drag them off of me.”
“I like your style. And I’m about to touch your clit and vagina. Continue.”
Sheridan stiffened but kept talking.
“So yes...plaid skirt,” Sheridan said and inhaled right as The Mistress put her fingertip gently to her clitoris. Her whole body tensed but The Mistress did nothing and said nothing, merely waited. Sheridan continued. “And there was this table in the foyer—fancy table. His housekeeper always kept fresh flowers on it.”
“How nice.” The Mistress gently knead
ed Sheridan’s clitoris with one finger. The attentions The Mistress had paid to Sheridan’s breasts had sent the blood flowing in the right direction. Sheridan’s labia had started to open and her clitoris had swollen slightly.
“Those poor flowers never knew what hit them. Everything on that table hit the floor when Rex bent me over it.”
“That devil,” The Mistress said as she lightly increased the pressure on Sheridan’s clitoris, increased the speed of her movements.
“He was.”
“Tell me what you remember feeling. Tell me in detail. And while you’re talking, try to remember every sensation he aroused in you....” The Mistress ran a single finger up and down the seam of Sheridan’s vagina. “While you remember, imagine yourself getting wetter and wetter, think of all the blood rushing to your labia and your vagina opening....”
Sheridan inhaled slowly and nodded her head. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Now keep talking. I might go inside you soon.”
The Mistress watched Sheridan’s thin fingers dig into the silk of the cushions. But she raised no protest.
“So Rex bent me over this table in the foyer. I remember the cool slick wood under my right cheek. I held onto the sides as he dragged my panties down my legs.”
Again and again, The Mistress ran her finger up and down Sheridan’s slit and felt it grow wetter and warmer to the touch.
“And once he had my panties off, he shoved my legs open. Practically kicked them open.”
“Wicked man. You must have loved it.”
“God, yes. I was scared, though. It was all happening so fast and Rex was pretty big. He could hurt me if he went in too fast.”
“I think most men need the word foreplay tattooed on their cocks. Like a Post-it note—just permanent.”
Sheridan grinned as she lifted her hips a few inches off the pillow. Squirmy thing. Another good sign.
“Truth. But that time Rex managed to control himself enough. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in me.”
“There might be some redemption for this man. Continue.”
The Mistress pressed open Sheridan’s labia. The girl was soaking wet inside. Gently The Mistress massaged her outer lips in an effort to bring even more blood flowing to her clitoris.
The Mistress Files: The Case of the Acting ActressThe Case of the Diffident DomThe Case of the Reluctant Rock StarThe Case of the Secret SwitchThe Case of the Brokenhearted Bartender Page 2
