The Other WomanbyMissClearmont©
I could see the fear in his eyes.
The threat of whip and wife was all part of his addiction. She was the heroin in the red hot spoon and the trail of white on the mirror. He was the possessed who craved the fix and she was the needle in his arm.
I felt breathless as I watched her deal with my husband and I wondered if I would rather be in his or her place.
The erection proved Craig's addiction.
It showed me the second lesson that I had learned that afternoon. The first lesson was that abuse could be dished out as long as the abused did not recognise it as exploitation. The second lesson was that this man was in the power of any woman or possibly even a man who knew where the keys to his locks were kept.
I felt a shiver run down me because I too was in the grip of a similar catharsis. I was hesitating between being the used bitch of Mistress Monique and the proud manipulator of Craig. She was finding the well hidden keys to my locks as well.
She took the crop, that goddess, and let it pass through her hands a couple of times before she sat on her throne. So far she had ignored my presence except that she was showing me the power that she had over my husband.
Monique beckoned to my husband until he came within her reach and then her hand reached out and took his prick with a motion that pushed him from tip to base with a smooth motion of her gloved hands.
Craig stood stock still and to my total amazement he climaxed!
Craig came with a spurt over her hand and a splash on her nylon clad knees.
That one move of her hand had brought him to orgasm with just a single move. A smile played on her lips, a curious sort of disdain and satisfaction crossed her face.
"Did I give you permission to come? Have I ever given you permission?" she allowed her voice to slip into the mode of a schoolmarm or perhaps a bored mother talking down to her child.
"This is now the third time that you have coughed up slime from your pathetic little cock. This time I shall punish you in an exemplary manner.
Slave Mistress Slave
Craig looked scared.
A real look of fear spread over his face as he eyed the evil crop that dangled from Mistress Monique's hand. Then there was another component of this scene that he did not understand. Who was the beautiful woman who knelt like a gorgeous masked doll by her mistress' side?
Craig concentrated on Monique and fulfilling her wishes. It was so difficult to understand what she wanted.
Did she want him to come just so that she could punish him for it?
Was she showing the woman in the white mask her power?
Was she really pleased or displeased with Craig?
He bowed his head and thanked his stars that he could not figure it all out. It was just too much for him. This woman was an enigma. She took his money and slapped him for it.
She enjoyed his confusion.
He wondered at the butler. That almost silent, enigmatic man who, it seemed, served as her slave. But, he was never naked, but always subservient. Uniformed and deferential but, he was never grovelling.
More of a servant than a slave. I thought.
Monique walked around her captive. Of course there were two captives in the room, myself and my husband but it seemed that somehow we had different status and the I was the slave of Monique where as he was treated like the slave of a slave.
I wondered at her next move. It came with a suddenness that was blinding and made me start in shock. She laid a blow of the crop, that veil hybrid of horse-whip and tawse across his thighs. The blow landed on the bunched muscle at the top of his legs, narrowly missing his balls.
But, Monique did not stop there; the whip slashed his thighs from the front and then returned on the backstroke to score his soft ass with lines that ran across the smooth flesh like traces of a hot needle.
Craig almost fell.
His chained and fettered ankles almost tripped him and his bound arms unbalanced him.
But he stayed upright.
"I have decided that you are no longer to have sex with your wife," said Monique. "To that end I will punish you until you cannot allow her to see your naked body!"
"But you promised!" cried Craig. "You said..."
As he spoke the whip slashed out again in an arc of pain. Now it etched his chest and back. Fore stroke to his back and return to his chest. The knots and tails of the cat left cuts in the soft flesh that welled slightly.
"How dare you tell me what I did or did not say, bitch," screamed Monique as she prowled around him like a leopard that has its prey quivering, ready for the kill. "I decide what I said or not."
She allowed the whip to trail over his chest and shoulders as she walked around.
"I have decided to mark you as mine, little Craig. You cannot hide from the women in your life. They have the right to know your inner thoughts, the inner motivations and they have the right to have your keys to you in their hands."
"Please Mistress," he was sobbing the words now. His chest was heaving with the repressed emotion and the reality of it all. "She will leave me and I love her more than anything!"
"If you love her then why are you here at all?"
"Because she does not understand that I have to serve and obey her. She thinks that we should be a partnership and we are equal."
The braids of the whip reached out and kissed his upper arms, leaving their marks for all to see. She was marking him like a farmer marks his sheep, making him hers for all the females of the world to see.
"You are wrong. She does not understand that both you and she have to serve."
I let those words roll around my consciousness and reverberate like a tolling of bells. She understood me.
I just could not believe how he was submitting to this treatment. He was prepared to sacrifice or marriage and at the same time he told her that he loved me. What the fuck was going on in his mind?
What was going on in my mind?
I sat quietly. Sooner or later I knew that Monique would involve me in her scheme, I just did not know how. At last she had enough of whipping my husband. She stopped in front of him and pushed one foot forward.
I cannot tell you how exciting it was to see Craig lean forward and kiss her feet. He licked her shoes and heels with a will and sucked her heels as she moved her feet. I was not really sure why it was so exciting but it was as if she had sublimated his need to fuck into a need to be fucked. The heel was her stiff prick, it passed his lips in a simulation of sex, of oral rape that she ordered him to submit to as she twisted her stilettos to allow him to impale himself on their steel.
I think what got me dripping was the sheer hold that she had on him. She lit a cigarette and smoked as he lavished all his love on her feet, her shoes, her heels and her toes. It would have been farcical except that Craig meant it!
He was willingly allowing her to fuck him by proxy!
Finally he was finished and she had smoked the last breath from the cigarette. The last wisp of brown blue smoke trickled up and dispersed.
She clapped her hands and the servant, that strange slave butler entered the room carrying a wooden box that he presented to Mistress Monique.
She nodded to him and he left the room, silently as he had come.
Craig was kneeling in abject submission on the lower steps of the dais of her throne. Monique turned to me and unlocked one of my hand cuffs as she moved my hands in front of me and then refettered them. As she did so she winked to me. A sign of reassurance, a sign that she was on my side, that she was doing all this for me.
I nodded back at her and stood as she bade me.
Monique opened the small box to reveal a small bag of silk that she took out and unwrapped. From where Craig was he could not see what it was but I could. It was a ring, a ring of steel, surgical steel. An inch in diameter and with steel as thick as a ball point pen, the ring opened wide in two halves to enclose him with a permanent sign of her possession.
Holding it up in the light revealed two names engraved deep in the steel. 'Monique' was scribed deep in that metal, his new owner, fantasy and real. His wife was retracting her ownership, this was another sort of band.
I nearly clicked it closed but Monique's hand stayed me as she mimed that once the ring was closed it could not be removed without cutting it off.
I smiled at her and she spoke to me in low tones.
"Bitch, place the ring on him, slap him and then leave the room like the good slave that you are. Do not forget that I allowed you to escape my world, this time. Next time you will not be so lucky, but I choose the time and the place. It is by my good graces that you leave at all. That you leave with something at all is a great deal to be grateful for."
I turned to Craig and lifted my head sharply to make him stand. I dared not speak because I was worried that he would recognise my voice.
I reached out with my fettered hands and clipped the ring around his balls. It was not tight, but too little space remained to slip it off.
I reached back and slapped him with the back of my hand. The edge of my fetters caught his face, leaving a cut that stood in relief on his jaw.
I bowed at Mistress Monique and walked slowly out of the room.
She had showed me the way.
I just had to follow.
If I could.
Waiting for return.
I met the butler, he was waiting dutifully outside the door for me. When I arrived he led me to the front door and opened it.
"What about my clothes?" I asked.
"They have been destroyed, Madame." He said as he reached down and picked up a bright heart shaped plastic handbag and passed it to me. "This is yours now!"
I looked inside and noted that every item from my old bag had been placed in it except for all my money. Just a few pounds in change lay in my purse, all the cash was gone!
"Money? How do I get home?"
"Madame the night bus fare is there in your hand." As he spoke he pointed at the coins.
I pulled a face and walked into the night. Dressed like a hooker in leather and stockings.
As I walked down the steps I was glad that I had left my Louboutin heels on. I saw him watch me walk into the night, a sexualised whore. I was hot as fuck, what Monique had taught me in that two hour session was a revelation.
I got home at eleven. All the way I had been stared at and been ogled by every man who noticed that he could see my stocking tops through the slit of my long gothic leather dress.
As soon as I got in I cast off the shoes and made a coffee.
Monique had given no indication of her intentions with Craig so I decided to wait for him.
Should I wait in the clothes that she had gifted me or should it be in normal dress? I weighed up the various outcomes that I imagined and decided on staying dressed in the costume that I was wearing, but without the mask...
It was after one that the door opened quietly and Craig slipped into the house as quietly as he could. I imagined his balls being born down by the heavy ring. I could almost see through his clothes to the stripes that Monique had left on his smooth skin.
As soon as he had shut the door I switched on the light. The brightness made him leap around to see me, mask dangling from my hand, the vision of the slave who had fitted him with the heavy ring that marked him as property.
I allowed him to stare for a moment, to realise that I knew everything.
"Strip!" I said, mustering as much confidence as possible. "Now!"
He stripped and I saw the crusts on his cuts, the softening of his flesh with welts and the steel ring that crushed his independence.
He saw with shock his wife standing there.
He saw with shock the woman who had watched him punished.
He saw that they were both one and the same.
I could see that he was hesitating between ardour, excitement, fear and shock. His prick was like a barometer of his thoughts. It could not make its mind up as to whether what he was facing was a cause for joy or a cause for regret.
As for me I flickered like a flame, half between guttering in the wind that was Monique or burning bright in the brain of Craig.
Have I left you hanging?
Wondering what happened next when the leather tart met the errant husband?
Were you expecting some huge sexual finale?
You might get one yet.
Well you might think that poor little Craig was in a bad position, what with the fact that he had been caught paying another visit to his mistress, you know the wrong one!
It turns out that I was still not interested in the sexual side of dominating Craig. Yes, it's true that I got a taste for it when I met Monique and saw how she operated. But even Monique, it turns out, often never actually had sex with her clients!
I suppose that's the big secret that is hidden from wives and lovers. It is that all this domination has a sexual root but in reality it manifests itself as a game that is played between consenting adults.
All I was really doing was signing up to play the game and it is more fun than you might guess from the comments above.
It works like this. Craig was mine, he always had been but I had never asserted my ownership; now that had all changed! Once a month he got sent to Monique with his allowance in his pocket to gift to the woman who Craig hungered for.
Sometimes she let him climax, more often than not she did not. At every visit he carried a letter to her from me. A memo that listed all his faults and failures since the last granting of absolution.
I just did not have any sexual interest in him anymore. Monique had taken that from me. Seeing him come at her single touch purged me of that leisure activity.
That was what I lost. That was what he lost!
The ordinary sex life, the intercourse twice a week, the blow and hand jobs that used to sustain us, even though his thoughts wandered back to his fetish.
That had faded to black.
His punishment was to be used and abused without the relief and safety of a home life.
Now that that door was opened there were occasionally other men who tickled my fancy. They pleased me while my former husband stayed in the cage that he had made for his own room. He laid there hearing the sounds of lovemaking coming through the walls.
I never once let him in.
I allowed Craig to stay as long as the business became mine. He consented... That was the deal. I suppose that he thought that all the concessions that he made would result in some sort of twenty four--seven relationship where sex would rear its head. What he discovered is that most basic of facts. The fantasies of two adults rarely coincide, someone has to lose.
This time it was Craig.
The next time it would be me.
I was ripe for the plucking!
He allowed me to shift the whole business into my name and I allowed him to stay. That was pretty much the whole deal. He had become an employee and I had become the 'hot' businesswoman of the moment.
You may have seen the small feature in some of the woman's magazines that used words like 'refreshing' and 'bracing' in describing the way the business had grown and what an inspiration I was to other women who run their own business'.
When they interviewed Craig and asked him what it was like to be an employee for his wife he answered that he was satisfied with things the way they were and could not imagine it otherwise.
By then I had become obsessed by Monique. I needed to get close. She was all I could think about, she was all I needed. Meeting her was like climaxing, I became breathless and winded, my pulse raced and just the smell of a cigarette was enough to take me to that parting in Piccadilly.
One thing had changed a little. Our furniture business, which used to be sustained by single orders of individual pieces, swelled as we started to produce pieces for women like Monique. Basically the market is huge, but almost invisible, and we made pieces from steel that would make almost anyone blush. But, those times are gone and the business was sold.
I was left in charge of my life and my husband, but somehow I was dissatisfied with my lot. I slept with a few men but I was discontented with them.
I needed more.
I needed Monique.
Well Monique and I kept well in touch. In fact we met about once every couple of weeks as we relived that first tense meal that we had all those months ago.
She was responsible for the changes that took place in my wardrobe. That leather dress was still a favourite of mine, especially with stockings and heels.
I suppose that it had become my hunting outfit.
Whatever she suggested I bought. One time we met and I spent the whole time hoping that she would realise that I was wearing the latex skirt that she had commented on.
I was hoping for just a word an acknowledgment that would make my day complete. But, she never said a word, her hand seemed to linger on my smooth ass for a moment but that was all the sign she gave, if sign it was.
One week, about six months after the events above we met in the Savoy for a cup of tea and a chat. The Thames Foyer is a beautiful place to meet. I enjoyed taking Monique to all the places that showed London to its best advantage. In fact I had a whole bundle of friends but I met none of them as often as Monique.
That day was the day that she told me her real name and at last I knew that she was not only my best friend, I was hers.
I was hers.
There is a fantastic glass dome in that room. The whole place is lit in clear sunlight in the morning and an airy Edwardian atmosphere pervades the place.
We were both relaxed and enjoying just the presence of the other.
"You know that 'Monique' is just a stage name, a pen name?" she said as she sipped her tea. "I mean, it's just not on, having your real name on the lips of clients like I have!"
"Do you want me to guess?"
"No, not really. Olivia is really not the right name for a dominatrix and so I changed it to Monique because that had a sort of French taste, sort of short for Dominique."
"Well I'll keep on calling you Monique," I replied. "It just seems right."
"I think that perhaps you might use Mistress Monique," she said.
"As you like," I answered as my heart thundered.
"You are right and you have made my mind up about something important for me. The reason for me telling you all this is that James has left me. You will remember him as the 'butler' who opened the door to you that Friday afternoon when you came to visit."
"Was he a husband or a lover?"
"Neither really. He was a client who ended up staying for the duration. He was ideal, he did so much for myself and the clients without ever needing anything in exchange."
"Why did he leave?" I asked.
"It's a bit difficult to explain really, but let's say that I found him another woman who he has now to serve!"
"So what are you going to do?"
"I need a butler! Tania does all the organising; she's a sort of secretary who I am training for the business as well as doing clothes, makeup and such like."
"Are you suggesting what I think that you are?" I said. "I mean Craig..."
"Is married," she said as she completed my sentence. "Well, the answer is: yes and no! Actually since you put my ring on him he has other priorities that take precedence over mere marriage!"
I sat back in the chair and looked her in the eye.
She was wearing her fur coat and jeans again. That strange combination that worked for her and no one else! The dark make up and the high heels said something about her that was sexual, almost indefinable to a woman, but most men recognised her strength and paid some sort of obeisance.