Annabelle

Although in the last few months she had enjoyed the affection and attention of several men of various ages, she had deliberately held back from fully exploring this new interest in her life until the opportunity was right. Which would be in exactly one week's time. On his birthday. On his death.

**********

All through their married life Annabelle and James had enjoyed a reasonably active social life but during the last week, since her final inspection of his new accommodation, she had made sure they had been out every evening. At a restaurant, at the theatre, visiting friends. He had been under hypnosis every time. It appeared to everyone they met he seemed detached, distracted and had something on his mind. Which was just the effect she wanted. Friends had asked him if he was feeling okay. One waiter asked him the same question. He gave the response she had instilled in him.

"Thank you, but I'm perfectly fine."

She had been asked the same questions. More than one person had said he appeared 'to be distant' as if he just wasn't in the same room as them. She had always agreed, saying he had been 'acting very strangely recently.'

When they returned home the evening before his new life was to begin, she instructed him to pack a bag with clothes he would normally take away with him for a weekend and toiletries along with an empty bag, then they went down to his new home.

"Strip and put everything in the second bag. Put the bags at the bottom of the bed, do not touch them again. When you wake tomorrow morning you will not be under hypnosis and you will remember that this is now your home. Have a good nights sleep and I will see you tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mistress. Goodnight."

After a few weeks, his disappearance was no longer local news and, as the months went by, their friends accepted his strange behaviour before his disappearance as having something to do with his apparent decision to leave. They sympathised with Annabelle, asking her if she had heard anything, but after a couple of years mention of his name rarely arose.

It took some time for him to accept his new life and sometimes, when he became very agitated, she had to use the two words to control and relax him. But as the months passed this became less frequent, and in his second year he accepted his fate, recognising his submissive nature.

Annabelle had been studying for their new life. Her new life. She had joined a chat site for dominas and had made friends with several, who had been of great help. She, obviously, did so under an alias and never giving any information about herself that could possibly lead back to her. She had visited two of her new friends, professional mistresses, in London. She spent time in discussion with them and joining in sessions with their submissives, male and female. She offered, but they refused, any payment for their help. They pointed out that their clients were paying for the sessions and they were actually getting very good value for the money with having the services of two mistresses instead of one.

She enjoyed the freedom that his 'leaving her' had given her by sharing her time with several male companions. She wasn't bothered about age or whether or not they were wealthy. It was more about their personality and good manners, although she did expect that there would be no 'penny pinching' when she was out with them. If that was the case, or their prowess in bed was poor, she had no hesitation in dumping them. She really liked the good looking, young, inexperienced guys. She enjoyed teaching them and moulding them to suit her needs. She also enjoyed the thought that, in their future liaisons, the ladies would be appreciative of having the attention of a young man more experienced than his age would suggest.

But she got fed up of having to go looking for suitable men. She had to find a way of getting them to come to her. A dominant friend suggested she become a Mistress, but she wanted to keep that aspect of her life between her and James.

Knowing her desire for sex, her friend suggested she become an escort which had two advantages. The first being that the men came to her and the second being they actually gave her money for having sex, and most times she enjoyed it, to different degrees. Some of the men were lacking in the personality department. As for their virility, it was nice to have a reasonable size but the main thing was that he knew what to do with it. She had occasionally met a man with a penis so small she couldn't do anything with it. She still made him feel that he was a stud, and make him believe it. That was her gift.

She liked the young, inexperienced men, particularly the virgins, who entrusted her with introducing them to the joys of sex.

It was as an escort that she met William. He was one of her first clients and had been a regular visitor ever since.

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

"I've already given you a gift for your birthday and I have seen the result of your enjoyment. Now clean it up."

Without a word James rose from the chair and knelt on the floor. He began to bend - then hesitated...

"Bad boy!" The words shot from her mouth like bullets.

Instantly, he bent and began licking his dry cum from the rubber mat that was always in front of his chair. He was allowed to masturbate as many times as he could, but only when watching her on the monitors, and only on the mat.

"Go prepare yourself with your back to the cross."

As he walked away she looked at the marks that ran from his neck to his ankles. Marks for which she was responsible. Marks she had enjoyed creating and, because she had been successful in arousing his masochistic instincts, he now enjoyed enduring.

She left the monitors switched on, with sound and recording, because they made a very effective security system in the event of anyone entering their home while she was down there.

When she entered the dungeon he had already fastened himself, by his ankles, to the bottom points of the cross, about three feet apart. He stood erect, with his hands above his head and separated in the same manner as his feet. After she had fastened his hands, she selected a tassel whip and, swinging it in her hand approached him, smiling.

"Good boy," she said, and he instantly came out of his hypnotic state.

She gently flicked the tassels across his penis a few times, and then tantalised his scrotum from underneath. She could tell, from his body language and breathing, that he was waiting for the inevitable. One harsh flick of her wrist and she cut across his erection causing a muted cry to come from his lips.

"So that's the way it's going to be today, is it?" she murmured. "We'll see about that."

She put the tassel back and selected a cane. A thin, whipping cane. What she had in mind didn't require anything thicker. She stood in front of him, flexing the cane, looking him in the eye but he couldn't hold her gaze. He knew what was coming and she knew he didn't like it.

"Close your eyes," she instructed him, "and count down from twenty."

He knew better than to refuse, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.

He got down to four when she viciously brought down the cane as if trying to cut him in two. This time he did scream, tugging against his bonds, trying to pull his legs together. She caned him again whilst he was still in agony and quickly made it ten strokes. It was one of her favourite games. Sometimes she would let him get down to zero. On other occasions she would use the cane as soon as he began counting. Naturally, he didn't enjoy the suspense but that wasn't important. It was what she enjoyed that mattered.

When she stopped he was hanging, arms straight, legs bent. Undoing the cuffs at his ankles and his wrists, she held onto him as she lowered him to the floor. She retreated to her throne, waiting for him to regain consciousness. After a few seconds she stood, walked to a wall cupboard, opened it, selected a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. Sipping her wine, she sat watching him.

A groan was followed by his hands feeling for his penis. As soon as he touched himself his hands leapt away. She knew it would be some hours before the pain left, but she would allow him to apply healing balm later.

"Bend over the bench."

He crawled towards it, dragging himself up, and lay still as she fastened his wrists and ankles. She fastened a broad belt across his back holding him securely. He was unable to move, and oblivious to the time passing. Suddenly, he realised she was standing in front of him and, raising his head, saw the bulbous head and realised what she was going to do next.

"Open your mouth," she commanded, pushing the head of her eight inch strapon to his lips. He opened and she slowly pushed in four inches feeling it hit the back of his mouth.

"Get it wet."

She worked his mouth, watched the saliva dribbling from his mouth, until she was satisfied and then shoved herself all the way in. Holding his head firmly in place she watched as the tears ran down his cheeks. She pulled out for a few seconds to allow him to breathe, and then shoved all eight inches in again. Usually on a good day, because of practice over the years, he could take eight inches without a problem. Today was obviously not one of those days.

She decided to fuck him immediately, picking up the bottle and dripping lube into his cleft. There was no need to work it in. He had taken this strapon, with its two inch thickness, so many times before and, whilst watching her and William earlier, he had been impaled on the butt plug permanently fixed to his chair.

She pressed against his entrance and pushed. Holding herself still for a few seconds, she traced the stripes across his buttocks with her fingers. The marks of the recent ones, still healing from earlier in the week, mingled with the now fading scars from months ago. She spread out her use of the cane and whip, sometimes not using either for several days. Her intention was not to permanently damage him. Her enjoyment came from pushing him to his limits but not beyond.

He had developed a liking for the cat o' nine tails, which was why she rarely used it.

He knew that after her relaxed session with William it was going to be the opposite with him. It was always the same. It was as if she had to prove that there was evil as well as good in her beautiful body.

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

The following day Anna had a lunch date with her friend Rowena, who was also in the business of making men, and sometimes women, happy by satisfying their sexual desires. But in a different way than Anna. They had met through one of the online domina forums, discovered they had much in common, met up and had been firm friends for the last five years.

Naturally, Rowena had arrived early for their lunch. She always did as she revelled in the admiring glances she attracted from the male diners, and some of the women. Anna, crossing the distance from the door to their table, attracted plenty of glances herself. They made an attractive pairing. Two ladies in the full flowering of maturity. Two ladies determined to enjoy life to the full.

"How long this time?" inquired Anna. There was no need to elaborate on her question. Rowena always arrived early and always booked the table farthest from the entrance. Anna understood perfectly why she did it and, as she sat down, shot a questioning glance across the table.

"Less than ten minutes," Rowena replied, a slight smile playing on her full red, kissable, lips.

"You're a narcissist, and your ego is large enough already."

"Sit down you idiot and let's order."

There was already a waiter at their table without being beckoned. They both ordered the same. Garlic bread with cheese, pizza, cheesecake and a bottle of Zinfandel Rose. They both ate enough meals prepared by Michelin starred chefs that, on their girl's lunches, they went for something simple.

"How are things with you? Did you have a good time on your cruise? Or should I say cruises since you were on three different ships. It's not something I've ever had the inclination to do myself." Anna was genuinely interested in how her friend's two month holiday had been, but she would never tell anyone, not even Rowena, why she would not leave home for more than a week.

"It was ok but not something I'd want to do again. I think I'll stick with holidays of a week or two, whether on land or sea, from now on. I'm glad, if I'm honest, to be back, and I didn't like being away from the business for so long. Getting over the different time zones and jet lag was another problem. I've been home nearly a week and I'm only now feeling that my body's back to normal."

"But things are ok at 42?" said Anna, changing the subject to one she knew her friend would enjoy discussing. "There weren't any problems whilst you were away?"

"Thankfully no. I've got two excellent lieutenants in Charles and Angela, but in any event if there had been anything serious they would have contacted me and I'd have been on the next plane home. But my clientele don't present any problems. They never have since I started the business."

"And how about George? Did he enjoy visiting his sister?"

"In the beginning, yes. But after two months he's glad to be back home. If you'd met his sister you would understand. The epitome of the spinster harridan. I had a car collect him as soon as I got home and he's very happy to be back where he belongs. The house was in need of a good clean after two months and he was in his element getting it back to the condition that pleases me. On my part I'm glad to get back to his cooking. Sending him on the Cordon Bleu course was one of the best decisions I've made."

Anna didn't actually know very much about Rowena despite them having been friends for five years. She appeared to be independently wealthy and, from what she had gleaned, it hadn't come from her husband. Although Anna didn't know if she had been married before as Rowena had never offered to open that chapter of her life. Maybe one day.

She had visited her home and been impressed. Rowena had told her the tasteful decoration and furniture was down to the consultants she employed, although Anna was sure she had been an influence on what they had decided. One of the things she liked about her friend was, although she was self assured, she had a fun sense of humour.

"So what do you have planned for this evening? 42? From what you've said I gather you haven't been there since you returned?"

"That's tomorrow evening. If there is anything I know they'll contact me. Technology can be a pain sometimes but not when you can talk face to face whether you are one mile or a thousand apart. Tonight I'm going hunting. I've already booked a suite at the Railton and a table for two at that new restaurant nearby. The one that was opened about three months ago."

"The Point? I've heard it's very good, although I haven't been yet."

"I've only been twice but it does seem to be excellent. Close to several five star hotels but far better than the hotel restaurants. Attracts a clientele that includes many businessmen, and women, with substantial expense accounts. Perfect for hunting."

"I don't understand how you do it. How can you tell just by looking at someone, or even a short conversation, that they are submissive and fodder for your needs?"

"It's not difficult when you know what to look for. If you have the basic instincts it's just a skill you hone with practice. Take yourself. You have the ability. You just need the opportunity to learn. That's why you should visit 42."

"I don't think so. I'm happy with the way my life is, and I don't have a problem with regard to sex."

"Sex doesn't have to be part of it. Not if you don't want it to. But sex with a submissive, man or woman, is entirely different from sex with your type of clientele. I know you're in control with them but with a submissive the control is different. I find it fulfilling and I'm sure you would find the experience the same."

"I know George enjoys it when you take him with you to 42. He must have missed it."

"He did but I won't be taking him with me tomorrow. He's done an excellent job getting the house back into shape since I returned so I rewarded him last night. He'll need a few days to recover as I like him to be in good condition when he comes with me. My clients expect the best."

"I'm sure everyone gets what they want, dommes and submissives, but even if I decided I liked it, I don't think I would visit often enough to make my membership worthwhile."

"Don't be silly. Whenever you wished to visit, no matter how often, you would be my guest."

A man, who had been by himself at another table, approached them.

"I couldn't help but notice that two attractive ladies are dining near my table. I wondered if I might buy you a drink?"

Rowena glanced at Anna, who looked back with a look she recognised. "Thank you. That's very kind of you. We'll have the same again."

He signalled to the waiter, who had been listening, and who brought across the wine, placing the glasses in front of the ladies, who each raised a glass to the man. "Cheers. Thank you."

He went to take a chair from an adjacent table to sit down and join them.

"What are you doing?" queried Rowena.

He hesitated, an uncertain look crossing his face. "I was about to join you."

"We accepted your offer of a drink. We did not invite you to join us." Rowena said, in a cool as ice voice.

He looked at her, then at Anna, imitated a goldfish, and finally turned towards the exit. As he reached the door he looked back, scowling. The ladies raised a glass to him, mouthed "cheers," somehow managing to contain their mirth.

"That was really nasty, Ro."

"I'm not in the mood today for some smarmy guy chatting me up. It would have spoilt our lunch. And don't call me Ro. You know it annoys me. You also know you're the only one I let get away with it."

"Okay. Ro. But you could have been nicer to him. Although I agree he's not the type of guy you and I usually go for. Remember that guy we met on our first cruise together, five years ago?"

"How could I forget! We'd only known each other a few months and it was on that cruise we realised we should have been twins. He deserved what he got. We enjoyed it as well, even though he didn't."

**********

God's gift to women. It was obvious that was who he thought he was. He sat at the bar, glass in hand, looking across at the attractive woman sat on the couch, with an empty glass on the coffee table in front of her. She was watching and listening to the duo entertaining all those in the lounge. A male pianist with a female singer. His wife? Girlfriend? Did it matter? She was singing a selection of Rat Pack songs and doing it well. Sitting on a stool, the slit in her high necked dress falling away, revealing one shapely leg crossed over the other. A pair of sky high stilettos, with red soles naturally, completing the image the men wanted.

The man spoke quietly to the barman, and a few seconds later a waiter walked across carrying a cocktail glass. His hand hovered over the glass, about to set it down, when the lady turned her head and gave him a look that froze him in his tracks. She didn't speak so, after a few seconds, he stammered, "the gentleman at the bar has sent this drink across for you, Ma'am."

"Take it back to him."

"But he's paid for it."

"Then he can drink it. Now go away." She turned her gaze back to the duo busy entertaining the small crowd around them.

He slid off the stool and walked, with a wobbly gait, towards her.

"What is a lovely lady doing sitting alone?"

"Waiting for another lovely lady." She turned to look across to the door, hoping Rowena would arrive and she could be rid of this irritation. Why had she decided to go back and change one perfectly good dress for another one? Sometimes she could be a real pain in the arse!