A Tale of Keisha

Jerry had to know, in some part of his mind, that he'd get caught some day. He was cheating so compulsively, so indiscriminately, that even his clueless wife would find out eventually. He anticipated losing some of his money, but there was always more where that came from, including much she didn't know existed and couldn't take away. But when it did happen, it turned out very differently than he could have ever imagined.

*********

When Joanne first noticed the signs, she wrote them off. Jerry was constantly meeting other executives, some of them female, and that could easily explain the whiffs of perfume and occasional lipstick marks on his collar. Friendly hello kisses, nothing more.

Then she happened to run into someone from another city that Jerry had done business with, and got a peculiar look from the man. Finally the truth was exposed when one of Jerry's floozies answered his cellphone as he slept, introduced herself as "Mr. Forrester's secretary" and that Mr. Forrester was out at the moment. Joanne did not cause a scene and merely told the slut she would call back. The slut, having realized she made a mistake in answering the phone, did not mention the call to Mr. Forrester when he woke up in yet another hotel room, with yet another empty-eyed woman.

Joanne was furious. However, this marriage was all that separated her from being just another secretary. She was going to make sure she dealt with the situation to her utmost benefit. First step - a private dick. Especially since she no longer cared for the one she shared a house with.

Within a few weeks she had all the evidence she'd ever need. The idiot had signed a pre-nup when they married, thinking it would protect him from her fucking around. In reality, she had been faithful to him, and made up for his shortcomings discretely with her toys. She wasn't planning on doing that forever, but even then she planned on being extremely discrete.

He wasn't discrete, though, was he? He showed no consideration for her feelings, her situation. He needed to be punished for that.

She could take a bunch of his money, but she had no intention of humiliating herself like that, having people ask why on earth a guy with a wife twenty times hotter than himself would chase every cheap whore on the street. Joanne may have been a lowly secretary when she bagged herself a dot.com multi-millionaire geek, but that was no fluke. She was a rational and methodical person. She would study what other women have done in such situations and come up with a plan of her own.

And the best part was that Jerry would have no idea what was being planned, whatever that turned out to be - until it hit him.

*********

Joanne was on her 6th night of searches on the net. She didn't work much more - a perk of being the wife of the co-boss - but was still on the books and still had an office. Jerry had asked, but was happy with her answer of "just a new project. Don't wait up." She needed to be away from him when she did this.

She had found some useful stuff, some eye-opening articles on Female Domination that gave her a glimpse of her solution, but not enough to connect the dots. She was about to give up for the night and go home, when a private message popped up on her screen. It was from a "sissy_sherryl-lynn" and was very polite.

: "Hello Ma'am. A quick question, please?"

: Go ahead.

: May i assume it is your no-good husband you are pissed at?

:Yes.

: And are you seeking help in figuring out his punishment?

: Yes! Why hasn't anyone asked me that before? :-)

: In that case, Ma'am, would you like to speak with my Owner?

: Your what?

: Mistress, if you will. She has much experience helping ladies in your situation.

: Very well.

The nick in the pm box changed to "Miss Keisha", and what followed was the most important conversation Joanne ever had. Miss Keisha was a professional lifestyle Dominatrix who specialized in couples. Keisha was able to tie together everything Joanne had managed to glean on hr search, plus much that had been bugging her since... forever.

Basically, Keisha said, the main difference wasn't between male and female, or even gay and straight, but rather between Dominant and submissive - and that while neither line was etched in stone, most people fell in one of these broad categories. Some people are able to move between as the mood struck them, but most tended one way or the other.

Also, Keisha explained, that converse to popular belief, the totally straight person was a rarity, and that absent social conditioning, most people would be bi. Stupid social conventions made this a major source of shame for men, (while at the same time making it much more permissible and even "hot" for women) thus giving women a leverage over them.

Finally, Keisha explained that at the very least, 15-20% of the people walking around calling themselves men had absolutely no business playing that role and were, in her opinion, better off converted to a lower form of femininity. The pity was, Keisha added, that so few of them were aesthetically tolerable in the role.

In any case, Keisha summed up, it was clear that Joanne had been aggrieved beyond what any woman should endure, and that for a fee she would be glad to assist.

It pleased Joanne's enraged mind to think of the little worm sucking cock, and of her holding that over him. Keisha's plan intrigued her, and the absolute confidence in which the pitch was delivered was impressive.

Joanne was given a telephone number to call, and the woman on the other side of the internet said goodnight. The numbers glowed in the dark room.

She took a sharp breath and reached for the phone. a sweet feminine voice answered "Miss T's room". Joanne swallowed and hesitantly introduced herself. "Oh sure, Ma'am. Hold on please.".

the next voice Joanne heard was totally different. Unmistakably feminine, slight lilt. Hint of black in the voice. but pure power. Not a single waster utterance. Pleasant, though. "Hello Joanne. I will be at the Belmont Hotel tomorrow at 1pm. Will you have lunch with me?"

Joanne, surprised by this swift invitation - summons, really - answered uncertainly. "I would like to offer you my services, Miss" - the address did not escape Joanne's notice - "if you're interested, be there. Good night". The line went dead.

Joanne drove home on auto-pilot, her mind racing. This felt... dangerous. And yet this is what she sought. She should at least explore.

Joanne strolled into the restaurant at the Belmont at 12:55, looking reasonably collected but with her heart galloping. She looked around and locked on the stunning figure sitting alone at the prettiest corner of the restaurant. The Lady - that's how Joanne immediately classified her - looked at her but showed no recognition. Yet Joanne felt drawn to her, and made step after step, holding the Lady's gaze, waiting for confirmation.

That came as soon as she reached the table. The breathtaking black amazon rose, lithely and powerfully, and shook her hand. "Glad you could make it.".

the Lady lowered herself back into the chair without releasing Joanne's hand, When they were both sitting, the Lady rubbed Joanne's hand and whispered: "It's ok. I'm on your side."

Somehow that was enough to burst Joanne's bundle of nerves. She began crying silently in front of this strange woman, who eyed her impassively as people around them inevitably began to notice. Damn! The whole point was to avoid that! She gathered herself and mumbled an apology.

"Don't apologize to me." came the answer. "Now, do you want to make sure it's him that's crying over this, not you?"

Joanne nodded through a little wad of tissue.

Miss Keisha laid out her plan. Joanne would confront the cheating weasel and threaten to ruin him - unless he went to marriage counseling. After starting in surprise, Joanne realized: Miss Keisha would be the "therapist".

"Under threat of legal action, you will make him sign an agreement to participate in an experimental therapy for compulsive adulterers. Once he does that, I will prepare him for the big night, where you will get both revenge and permanent control."

Joanne eyes flashed a smile. She was sold.

**************************

Miss Keisha had explained that for best results, it would be best to have Jerry followed around for a while, so they could build a serious case against him. For the time being, Keisha gave her some tapes. Jerry wasn't home much, but Joanne was to play the tapes whenever he was. They were NLP tapes, or hypnosis for laymen. Very low level of subliminal conditioning. Alone, they would require years of listening to achieve the result they were after. But they were just the groundwork. They would prepare Jerry's mind to accept what he would later be manipulated to do.

Wouldn't she herself be affected by the subliminal messages, asked Joanne?

"Only if you consider a conditioning to feel feminine and want to wear sexy lingerie to be a bad thing," chuckled Miss Keisha, and added: "you can buy small earplugs to wear. if you play it enough, he will ask you for it and begin to listen to it on earphones, thereby solving any problem."

Joanne agreed to give it a try. It gave her a measure of comfort and a sense of control as she had to bide her time and let the disgusting little creep - she still couldn't believe she ever let him touch her - believe he was getting away with his little game. To her astonishment, a week after Miss Keisha gave her the cd, Jerry asked for a copy of "that music you've been listening to." He chuckled that she must have got him hooked. She smiled innocently and burned him a copy.

A Keisha-directed search of his computer gave them most of his routine - the chat rooms he met the floozies at, the bars he hung out at in each city, lists of contacts... they had him.

A month after he'd been listening to the tapes, Joanne began to notice very subtle differences - a slight tendency to keep himself smoother, better groomed. On the occasions they had sex, Joanne implemented another suggestion from Keisha and began getting him off by rubbing his cock and balls from behind, with him face down on the bed. He protested the first time, but took to it immediately and within another week showed no sign of protest as this became the only form of their (twice-weekly or so, when he was in town) sex. For him, sex with her was just part of the cover, anyway. Any way she wanted it was fine.

Then she sprung the trap. He was under constant surveillance, courtesy of Keisha's outfit, so it was easy to surprise him with details of his latest "conquest" - a low-class bar slut willing to put out for an expensive night on the town and a gift of some sort.

She met him at the door one day and had him sit down. She presented him with the evidence. Her fury - finally allowed in the open and rising constantly - scared him. This was different than how he imagined being caught.

He tried to mumble his way out of it when he was knocked to the side by an open hand slap. "Shut the fuck up, worm. I haven't decided what to do with you." This was a lie. The next few moves in the game were carefully scripted. He didn't have to know that, though.

"Now, unless you want me to drag you through a divorce in which I will take everything AND make sure not even the whores in this town will touch you, you will do exactly as I say as we try to save this marriage. Is that clear?"

The little worm was shaking. Maybe he didn't expect it to be this bad. Maybe it was the mild drug she slipped in the drink she made him, when she sat him down - the one he gulped in one shot when he saw the detective's file. Maybe he was just a nerd who couldn't handle a real woman, and married her for her looks the way she married him for the easy life.

he nodded his head. She grabbed his hair. "What was that?"

- "Yes, mmmmmmy dear".

Joanne nodded with grim satisfaction. Phase 1 accomplished. Good thing her husband - about to be her slave - was sleeping on the couch tonight. Keisha had stressed that she was not, under any circumstances, to do anything kinky, anything "BDSM"-like at this early stage, no matter how tempting it might become. As she looked at the quivering male she was once content to present to the world as her mate, she contemptuously thought he could be made to do anything in his state, and understood the warning. She had no clue.

She sent Jerry to get linen for the sofa, and got herself a decanter of strong wine, a large dildo and a vibrator. She emphatically closed the bedroom door, catching her pathetic cheating husband cringe at the sound as the last crack shut. Then she took a drink, then another double, lay back on the bed and tried to relieve the immense arousal his submission caused in her.

To be continued...