Couples Counseling Pt. 01

Paige and Tosh nodded thoughtfully, with looks of vaguely aroused fascination.

I added, "You two get none of that."

"Oh," Paige said with a soft, barely audible gasp.

Toshiro's eyes widened a bit. "Huh."

"I ramp it up, ease it off, or stop ... when I want, and only when I want. You two get absolutely no say. That's the deal."

We were hashing it out over drinks on their redwood deck, overlooking their sprawling, landscaped back garden, with a gorgeous panorama of the white-capped North Shore Mountains as backdrop. It was after their workday, the waning daylight was rosy-orange, and there was a mild nip in the air. All three of us had paper copies of my proposal-slash-contract on the deck table in front of us.

I took a modest gulp from my snifter of cognac and put my finger on that specific provision in the copy in front of Tosh. "Until I find the answer we're all looking for, I am in complete control."

"Or six hours are up," Tosh pointed out, unhelpfully.

But he was technically correct. My proposal contemplated a couples session at a "friends & family" discount of 60% of my regular hourly rate, capped at six hours. Although, what I never said but thought inside was, I'd be prepared to go as long as it took, pro bono if need be, to save their marriage.

That's the kind of commitment I show to my clients.

Instead, how I replied was, "Let's not stray from the point. I need you to understand and acknowledge, both of you, what I'm asking for is your consent to give me ... extraordinary control. Over the session. Over your bodies. And, don't underestimate me, your minds."

Tosh took a sharp, husky inhale, but said nothing.

Paige's breath caught in her throat too, looking back at me with plain arousal, but she managed a dry-voiced, "I understand, Emmalee."

"Not Emmalee," I replied sharply. "You're talking to Domina DeVauer. 'Til we're done here, you'll address me as Mistress."

Paige's piercing blue eyes went smoky with desire. "Yes, Mistress."

I turned to Tosh. For the first time, I thought I saw it ... in his dark brown eyes, a glimmer of the submissive within, however muted by his wary pride. "Yes, Mistress."

"Good." I took another sip of my drink. With a nod and a flash of my eyes, I urged them to do the same. They complied. "Just listen."

I started by telling them to set aside the paper, the dry legalese in Times New Roman font, and allow me to paint them a more visceral picture.

They were going to see my dungeon at last, but naked, collared and kneeling obediently at my feet. Obedience, I emphasized, without question or hesitation, on pain of punishment. Humbled, abused and degraded. Restrained, sometimes strictly, when and how I saw fit.

They were going to submit to my tests of their flesh, from the soles of their feet to the tips of their tongues and everything in between, including their minds, hearts and souls.

I would tease, squeeze and torment the submissive and the dominant natures out of them both, set them on the scales of my stern judgment, and decide which of them I deemed worthy to subjugate the other.

What I was to decide would be irrevocable and not subject to protest, revision or appeal.

My judgment would prevail over their marriage for a period of three months, unless Paige and Tosh mutually agreed to end it; and only then, after my exacting interrogation and with my approval.

And I warned them again, my tests would be harsh, exacting, and merciless. I repeated, "It ends when I say it ends."

I didn't take questions. I told them to sleep on it and give me their answer in the morning. I finished my drink.

Back home, I went downstairs to contemplate my plan for them in the privacy of my dungeon. Soon enough, I found myself doing that from the comfort of my leather upholstered throne ... surveying my domain of restraint, discipline and pain ... with my skirt hiked up my hips, a towel under my bum, and my thong on the side table.

God, I wanted them both so badly, the breath burned my throat just thinking of it. I'd seen them in swimsuits and running gear often enough to easily picture them naked. Now, I began to picture that flesh wholly bared, trembling, twitching, struggling, striped in vivid red ...

"HAHH-ohhhhh..."

That was my first orgasm of the evening, a sweet and mild one for an appetizer. After that, as I sat for another hour or more jilling off with those images flourishing and detailing themselves visually in my mind, my hunger for Tosh and Paige mounted, and the climaxes piled up, one after another until I lost count. My ecstatic cries at each one louder than the last.

After it was over, I congratulated myself for the foresight of indulging myself in that soundproof space. Had it been in my bedroom, say, I had no doubt that Paige and Tosh ... in theirs, deliberating my offer, and all it entailed ... would have been able to hear me

And have good cause to fear me.

#-#

Paige and Tosh stand facing each other, arms extended and pet-gloved hands clipped to the vertical chain that hangs loosely between them, blindfolded and ankle-cuffed. They are panting lightly with sightless, erotic anticipation, but calming down; in Tosh's case, that's evident from the marked sag of his former erection.

"Just a couple of finishing touches, my sweet, naked playthings," I purr, "and we'll be ready to begin."

I take a short length of chain with clips at each end, fasten one end to Tosh's ankle cuffs, pass it through the floor-mounted D-ring in between their feet, loop it once, and pass it on to snap the other end to Paige's manacles. From the cabinet built into the post of the suspension dock, I get two large black rubber balls, each fitted with a small eyebolt and long, black nylon straps; these I attach with two clips near the end of the vertical chain, beneath where their hands are secured. I cross the room to my ornate, varnished oak tool rack and return with two wide, buckled straps, my riding crop, a small selection of wooden canes, my light single-tail whip, and a thin wooden kitchen cutting board. (Cutting board? Bear with me, you'll see.) These implements I lay out on the top of the cabinet, where they'll be close at hand.

I lean down and take up the loop of the chain that runs through the D-ring at their feet, gripping it loosely, a carabiner held in that hand. My other hand reaches out to the crank of the winch at the base of the post.

"Ready or not," I giggle.

I turn the crank as fast as I can to maximize the surprise of what happens next. The vertical chain rises quickly, as do their arms, and both captives swing inward, smacking together chest to chest, belly to belly, with a wet slapping sound.

"Huhhh!" Paige gasps, biting her lip.

Tosh just grunts heavily through gritted teeth.

At the same time, I tug on the slack of the lower chain, their shackled feet shuffle forward, and once they are toe to toe, I slip the carabiner into the two chain links at the point of the D-ring. No more slack.

Eyeing those feet, which are just slightly raised at the heels, perched on the balls, I turn the winch crank twice more, the ratchets click, and their heels rise until they are high on tiptoe. They both have beautiful feet, I take a moment to appreciate. Soles discreetly exposed. Sweet.

Then I turn the crank once more.

Now I stand, take the cutting board, and slip it between their pelvises -- a necessary partition between their genitals. I know that's going to be a little rougher on Tosh, but tough titties; he needs to calm down some more anyway. I take one of the belts and buckle it tight around their waists. The other strap I secure around their thighs, just above the knees.

"Now, open wide," I command, placing my hands on the backs of their necks. "Wider."

Pressing inward with both hands, I feed them the two black rubber balls clipped to the chain between them The gags invade and fill their mouths, and they both grunt in shock. I fasten the velcro-lined nylon straps tightly behind their necks, first Tosh, then Paige.

This gets me a sweetly surprised and frustrated "Mmfff!" from both their newly ballgagged mouths.

I step back to briefly appreciate the elongated, melded mass of leather-and-steel-bound flesh that my view commands. Under my velvet skit, a fresh spasm of passion seizes my domme-cunt, overflowing the containment of my panties, and I feel the warm flow dribbling down my inner thighs. My two quarreling lovebirds are quiet and still now, their chins tipped up by the pull of their gags, vertically stretched out, the leans muscles of their arms, buttocks and calves taut and gently quivering.

Toe to toe, knee to knee, belly to belly, nipple to nipple, and -- as I unbuckle their blindfolds and whip them away -- Voilà! --

Face to face and eye to eye.

Except, their eyes are fixed on me, wide, wet and frighted. They see I am holding two slave-collars meant for them.

I tut with disappointment. "No, that won't do, pets. Look at each other."

They obey me. And it's a funny thing I notice just now. Turning their eyes to each others', it looks to me like they widen even more, as if what Paige and Tosh see reflected back at one another is even more frightening to them ... than me.

"Now..." I say, glancing at the wall clock, "over the next five hours and twenty minutes, there's going to be some intensive, um, conflict resolution."

Starting with Paige, her gagged face tipped up and throat exposed, I proceed to collar my naked, bound couples-counseling clients.

"And no one, my sweet pets, is leaving this room until we work this shit out."

**TO BE CONTINUED**