Dedicated Dominatrix

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

Amy didn't think anything could have made her more depressed, but the conversation with her sister did it. She called in sick the next morning and spent most of the day in bed. It seemed as though she had gained three hundred pounds because her body was too heavy for her to sit up, and standing was out of the question.

She didn't feel much different the following morning but forced herself to go to work. She thought about going to the cafeteria, but she was afraid she might fall to pieces if she saw Langdon, so she stayed at her desk and had a friend bring her a sandwich. When she got home, she forced herself to eat. As soon as she cleaned up, she went to bed. She slept ten hours until the alarm woke her.

That was her pattern for the next week and a half. On Sunday, she put on a happy face to play with her nieces and nephews, but she barely exchanged a dozen words with Lauren and Mike.

Gradually, she felt different. Her depression turned into numbness. She didn't feel good or bad. She felt nothing. One day, without thinking, she went down to the basement for lunch.

It wasn't until she was in the cafeteria line that she realized her mistake. She stopped, abandoned her tray, and made for the elevator, but it was too late. Langdon grabbed her arm from behind and wouldn't let go. He got in front of her.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you every day. I was afraid you'd hang up on me, so I didn't call you."

"Leave me alone!"

Her voice was weak and whispery.

"I promise I will. But we need to meet one more time."

"Why? What's the use?"

"I know you were devastated when I let you down and the sight of me probably makes you sick. But I'm having a hard time with closure, and it looks like you are, too. We need to end this differently so we can move on with our lives. All I want to do is talk."

Amy sniffed. She looked at his long face and felt like dropping to her knees and begging him to forgive her for hurting him. Talking about it wouldn't help her move on, but if it was good for him, she owed it to him.

"All right. Where?"

"Would you come to my house?"

"Where is it?"

"I'll text you the address. Can you come tonight?"

"Sure. Why not?"

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

She was surprised when she found the opening in the long wall and drove up the circular drive. She guessed the house to be more than a century old, and it must have belonged to a wealthy family once. Now it looked dilapidated and threadbare. Why would Langdon rent a house like this?

He ushered her into what he called the morning room and she looked around. The inside of the house matched the outside. She asked him about it.

"I got it for a song," he said.

"You own this house?"

"The bank still owns eighty per cent of it, but I got a good rate. My monthly payments are barely more than the rent I was paying."

"You like living here?"

"My great-grandparents lived here, and when they died, nobody wanted to spend the money to fix it up, so it was rented for a while. I like the feel of it, and I'm working on it whenever I have the time and money. Someday it will look amazing."

Amy looked around the room again.

"What have you done so far?"

"Nothing downstairs. I want to finish the six bedrooms first. They're huge, so I'm taking some of their floor space to put in a full bathroom for each bedroom."

"Why do you need six bedrooms and bathrooms."

"One is the master bedroom. Each of the kids will have his or her own bathroom. Why not if there's room?"

"Five children?"

"I know that's crazy. Unless you grow up with four brothers and sisters, you wouldn't understand. I may have to compromise. Women today won't put up with that many kids."

Amy wanted to ask him more about his family and the house, but she saw how nervous he was. Better to get this over with so he could forget her. She thought about what she should say to give him what he needed, but she wasn't sure, so she decided to feel him out first.

"What did you want to tell me?"

"Most of all I wanted to apologize."

"I should be the one apologizing. I never warned you about what I was going to do. I told you to prepare yourself, but how could you?"

"You don't understand. I was prepared. I knew what you were going to do. Did you think I was surprised?"

"I don't know. I know you're smart. If you knew, why did you let me do it?"

"Since it doesn't matter anymore, I can tell you now that I fell in love with you. I don't know when. I think it was the night I ate out your ass?"

"What?"

"Or maybe before that. It was while you were commanding me to do things that I loved doing. That was the first order that I hated. It was so disgusting that for a moment, I thought I made a mistake about you. I was going to leave, but then I said to myself, she would never do anything so sick. She's just testing me, so I've got to play along.

"Sure enough, I was right. I couldn't believe you went through all the nastiness of cleaning yourself out and putting in vanilla. Instead of feeling humiliated, I felt overwhelmed by how much you cared about me. It was the first time I ever cried from joy.

"I was sure it would be the same with the punishment. You would sting me a little and then make up for it with something special."

"I was going to give you an amazing blowjob," Amy said with a sniff.

"I thought so. I had to ruin it." His voice cracked.

Amy looked at him with wide eyes. Was he crazy?

"I'm sorry. I'm totally recovered, but I just felt your cane again mentally. That's been happening less often, so I think I'm almost over it.

"I think of myself as a strong, balanced man. I'm not afraid of taking chances and trying new things. I welcome challenges. But I've always had a low threshold for pain.

"When I was a kid, I had the usual number of falls, sprains, and punctures. Never anything as painful as what you did. I never yelled or cried. I just fainted dead away.

"My parents took me to a doctor because they thought there was something wrong with me, but he did tests and said that my problem was that all my senses were more highly attuned to stimuli, and the fainting was the result of overload. There was nothing he could do except warn me to be careful. Whenever I got an inoculation, I had to warn the nurse because chances were, I'd be unconscious the second the needle entered my skin. I've studied up on my condition and am careful never to put myself into a situation where I overload on any nerve stimulation, especially pain.

"It hasn't been all bad. A couple of my girlfriends told me that I knew more about nerve endings than anyone they ever dated and it made for great sex.

"I knew you were strong, but I thought you'd fool me with your punishment like you did with the analingus. I never imagined you'd use that much force. But I'm not blaming you. It's not your fault. I wish I was the man you want me to be, but I'm not."

As Langdon spoke, Amy began biting her lip and squinting her eyes to keep from breaking down. She wanted badly to take him in her arms, stroke his head, and tell him everything was going to be all right.

But that would be sending him the wrong signal. He needed to be rid of her so he could find a good woman who wanted a father for her babies, not a slave.

That made her think again of the five baby bedrooms upstairs. Those damn bedrooms! Once he told her about them, she couldn't get them out of her mind. They were getting in the way of doing the right thing.

He had stopped talking and gazed at her silently with sad eyes. Her head was raised and turned to the side. She was looking up the stairs.

She cleared her throat a couple of times to gather her thoughts before she spoke.

"Uh, I'm glad we're meeting to clear the air, and I want to continue this conversation. I'm a bit overwhelmed right now. Can we take a short break?"

"Of course."

"If you don't mind, I'd really like to see the rest of the house."

"Sure. I'd love to show it to you."

They went from room to room, and he explained what he planned to do in each one. She listened intently. She liked most of his ideas, but she could see he needed a second opinion on some of them that didn't make sense from either a design or functional perspective.

They walked upstairs, and he showed her the one child's bedroom that he had finished. He hadn't decorated it yet.

"You should pick out furniture and wallpaper for a boy and a girl," she advised. "As soon as you know the baby's sex, you can order the right things and finish the room in plenty of time before the birth."

"That's a great idea," he said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

He was working on finishing a second child's room. The other three were a mess. Nothing had been done in the master bedroom either, but at least it was clean. She liked the size of the windows. The room had a lot of potential.

She started to walk back to the stairs, but then it hit her. There was only one right way to end this. She would give him a goodbye present that would make him remember her with happiness rather than regret.

She turned to face him.

"After today, when I see you in the cafeteria, I will no longer think of you as my slave. But if you have no objections, I want to be your mistress until I leave your house."

"I would be honored, mistress"

"Take off your clothes, slave!"

He looked at her.

"You heard me, slave. What are you waiting for?"

He looked confused, but he began to undress. His eyes grew wide as he saw her doing the same.

When they were both naked, she stepped back and looked him up and down.

"You're right to tremble, slave," she said with a sneer. "Get on the bed."

He lay down on his back in the middle of his large bed.

"Listen carefully, slave. When I get on the bed, I want your complete attention. I'm not going to say another word. I don't care what you say, but you must do only one thing. You must make love to me. You must do it slowly and gently. Instead of smashing our bodies together as I did to you before, you must use your imagination to accomplish the same excitement with tenderness. You must make me cry with pleasure instead of scream with lust. You must make me melt when I come, not explode."

She stopped speaking, got on the bed, and lay next to him staring at the ceiling. For a while, they lay there listening to each other breathing. Her heart was pounding. What was he thinking? What would he do?

He turned to her and kissed her softly. That's how it began.

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

They slowly put on their clothes looking at each other. Through her first orgasm, neither had spoken. When he had finally come inside her, she had come again and sighed in harmony with him.

She followed him down the stairs back to the morning room.

He went to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. He filled their glasses. Her mind was racing as she watched him.

"Listen, slave. I know of punishments a million times worse than caning. I have turned men into blathering idiots with my psychological torments. I can do the same to you."

He thought a moment before he responded.

"But you would miss the sound of the cane and the sight of the red stripes on my butt, mistress. Some day you would resent not being able to torture my cock and balls. A mistress needs a slave who won't limit her pleasures."

"Stop, slave! No CBT! Never! Why would anyone want to harm something as precious as a beautiful cock? Locking it up in chastity -- that's different.

"I measured you, and the largest size on lockhimup dot com will fit you comfortably. It will cage your cock and balls, so you can't have sex or masturbate, but it's plenty wide and long enough so it won't pinch or chafe. When I press the vibrator against it and ruin your orgasms, you will suffer horribly, all without any pain. Pegging will be even a harsher punishment.

"What's that?"

"I fuck you in the ass with a giant dildo."

"Oh!"

"Wait! Take a drink of water. It's not as bad as it sounds. You liked my finger in your ass a little while ago. I'll make sure the dildo is no bigger than my finger. And it will vibrate and drive you crazy."

She realized that didn't sound very harsh, so she quickly spoke again.

"Yes, and when it does, I'll make you use your hand to come in front of me while I verbally abuse you. You'll be crying like a baby.

"I'm also going to make videos of everything I do to you and post them on the Internet."

"What?"

"Don't worry. I've figured it all out. We'll both wear masks that cover our faces, so nobody will know it's us. But how humiliating it will be for you to realize that millions of people around the world will masturbate to your mortification.

"Oh, and I will feminize you. I'll dress you up like a slut, with makeup, a garter belt, stockings and high heels. The whole nine yards. All the girls at your office think you're a stud, but you'll know that anytime I want, I can make you into my sissy boy in frilly panties.

"Those are the kinds of things I'll do to you when you make mistakes or disobey. There is no end to the ways I will think up to make you wish you'd never been born -- all without a moment of physical pain."

"I don't know, mistress," he said. He no longer sounded dejected. The lovemaking seemed to have cheered him up. There was something in his voice that almost sounded playful.

"I've formed a plan in my mind. Would you like to hear it, slave?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Does this house have a basement?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Perfect. That will be my dungeon. You can do that room next so we can use it until the first child is born. Then we'll convert it into a playroom.

"You have too many relatives for me to kidnap you and make you disappear from the outside world. Instead, you will resign from your job and become a house husband, dressed in a French maid's outfit all day. You'll do all the cooking and cleaning and worship me when I come home.

"When my maternity leave is over, and I go back to work, you'll take care of the children. We will space them three years apart because they grow too fast and I want babies in the house as long as possible. It will be eighteen years before the youngest is three years old. Are you following me, slave?"

"Yes, mistress. That means five babies. Will I wear my French maid uniform while I take care of the children?"

The change in his mood was obvious to her now. It seemed Amy that he was having a good time in their conversation. Was he taking her seriously? His question stopped her for a minute as she pictured him doing in his maid uniform raising her children. No, that wouldn't work. Her babies needed a masculine role model.

"I see what you mean, slave," she finally said. "Once the children are here, we'll have to give up certain things. That won't be a problem."

"Permission to speak, mistress."

"Permission granted, slave."

"I love your plans, mistress. I thought that I would have to go to work each day and only see my children in the morning and evening and on weekends. My wife would have all the fun of playing with them and taking care of them and watching each new thing they did."

"Wait a minute, slave! Not so fast!"

What was happening? Amy was confused. Was she losing control? All of a sudden, Langdon seemed to be the one in charge.

"I have to think more about this," she said. "I described the classic mistress-slave narrative that I've read about in many stories and chat rooms. The dominant woman is the breadwinner, and the slave in the humiliating costume is confined to the house. But I've also learned that dominatrixes need to be flexible and ready to adapt to any situation."

"Permission to speak, mistress."

"Permission granted, slave."

"May I ask how much money you earn, mistress?"

"Why do you want to know, slave?"

"Because I just got a promotion and a raise, mistress. I'm now No. 2 in my office, with a good shot at number one in a couple of years. My income is in six figures, and with bonuses, it might double in five years."

"What you earn means nothing to me, slave?"

"What about the kids, mistress?"

"What about them, slave?"

"If we live on your salary, I'll have to sell this place and move in with you. You don't have a dungeon. Also, it will be hard to raise five children in a one-bedroom apartment."

Amy laughed. She stopped worrying about how their conversation was going. She would enjoy it while it lasted.

"I'm glad you're good with numbers, slave. As you can tell, sometimes I'm impractical. The dominatrixes don't ever talk about finances. Maybe they're all independently wealthy. I'll think more about this. You look like you want to say something else, slave. Go ahead.

"Before I wimped out on you, mistress, I had a plan for us."

"You did?"

"Your glass is empty, mistress. Let me pour you another one."

He filled her glass. She noticed he hadn't touched his. Did he put a drug in her champagne? For the first time in weeks, she was feeling good. Maybe he was going to chain her to the basement wall. That would serve her right. He should make her suffer. She gathered herself together because she saw him hesitating.

"Out with it, slave. You had the presumption to make plans for us. Unless I like them, you'll get twenty-four hours in the cock-a-lock."

"Until you struck me with -- ."

"Stop, slave!" she screamed. She caught her breath and muttered to herself, "Damn you! Why did you have to spoil my good mood?"

She spoke in a steely voice.

"Hear me clearly, slave! Do not ever mention that again. You have a lot to learn. A good slave never reminds his mistress of her mistakes."

"Pardon me, mistress. May I go on."

"Permission granted, slave."

"Before, well, earlier, mistress, I was sure you were the sweetest, sexiest, funniest girl I had ever met, different from all the others. I could tell the domination thing was brand new for you, and I thought we were playing dress-up without the costumes -- until you displayed yourself in your amazing leather and latex costume that made you even sexier.

"I never talk about my private life to anyone. Some of the girls I dated talked about me, but I never said a word about them. But I wanted to tell everybody I knew about you. I was dying to introduce them to you, but I couldn't. I was bursting.

"I figured out a way I could share everything. I would tell my friends the unvarnished truth, and they wouldn't believe me. The only thing I held back was your name. They thought my stories were fantasies, and I was exultant that they loved the sweet girl who did those things to me. They just didn't know she was real.

"You tried to hide your kindness and warmth and act cold and domineering, but I saw a woman who cared for me pretending to be evil. I was concerned about one thing until you yelled 'Baby! Baby! Baby!' that time. Then I heard all about Aunt Amy from your nieces and nephews. That made me certain you were the one who would help me fill my bedrooms.

"I thought for sure you'd want to be home with the babies. I imagined you playing with them all day, me playing with them when I came home and, after we put them to bed, me playing with you whatever strange games you thought up. I knew that life with you would always be exciting because you have a wild imagination, a great sense of humor and an enthusiasm for adventure."

Amy caught herself just before she started blubbering. She had to hold it together so she wouldn't disillusion this stupid, wonderful, misguided man.

"Are you finished, slave?"

"Yes, mistress."

"You think you're smart, but you came up short because you never thought of two things. Talk is cheap."

"Permission to speak, mistress."

"Permission granted, slave."

"What are the two things, mistress?"

"A ring and a license, slave, a ring and a license."