Nora Works as a Dominatrix

It was much larger than a standard New York apartment, by a factor of four at least. It had been revamped to have various amenities, including a small bar and cooking facilities near the base of the staircase. There were partitions to break it into rooms, but none of those sub-spaces had doors.

Various sofas and chairs furnished the room. The lighting was a bit subdued but it wasn't really dark in there. Perhaps I would compare it to a nightclub rather than an apartment.

There were also several large wooden objects placed around on the floor. Gilda asked me, "Do you know what those are for?"

I had never seen anything like them, but I could guess their purpose. "I would say they're spanking benches or trestles."

"That's right, there are two basic types. This kind is upright, and the most commonly used. A guy will be put over one of these with his behind sticking up, and he will either be restrained or not according to his preferences. Or maybe he has to be restrained because he won't stay in place." She took me to another kind, which was basically just a padded bench.

"A few of our clients like to be lying on these, face down. It's the way it used to be done with judicial punishments in Russia and I think in China too."

I asked her if they ever got any women who wanted to be punished. "A handful, but we only have other women do it to them. Some of them want to relive their intense experiences with their mommies or teachers." She paused for a moment. "Would you accept an assignment like that?"

I didn't want to commit myself to it during that orientation. "I've never actually done it to a female; I'd have to think about it."

"That's fine, don't concern yourself with it now." I was also relieved that I didn't have an open-ended arrangement for that position; I had told Gilda that I planned to out of it by the time I graduated in about ten months. Supposedly I could turn down an assignment, but I hadn't tested a refusal yet. I remembered the old days when everything was up to my own discretion.

She said, "So what do you think of this place? Not bad right?"

"I admit that I sort of like it. It reminds me a bit of a finished basement in a suburban house." Of course, such houses usually did not have spanking benches. "It's too big to be exactly cozy, however."

"For what you're going to be doing, maybe cozy is not that important. We do also rent it out to various -- well, call them BSDM clubs."

I thought I was fairly worldly, but I didn't know much about those. Gilda must have noticed my confusion because she went on. "There are several kinds of those in New York. Some are quite vanilla, others are very hard-core, and of course, some specialize in gays."

She pointed over to a wooden wall. "This slides back, and there is a dungeon space on the other side. It has different kinds of equipment, quite elaborate in fact. For example, there is a wooden wheel you can tie a person to, and then spin them around."

That baffled me. "Why would anybody want to do that?"

"I don't know, a few people get a kick from being upside down during their session. Suspending people from the ceiling is another gimmick that can be done back there."

"That one I've heard of but I've never seen it." Maybe I should have been grateful for that.

"Nora, you seem a little jittery today."

I had been nervous back in 1973 and 1974 during my first go-round as an amateur hooker, but I hid it well under an attitude of brazenness. Now that I was older I knew better about what I was getting back into, and that seemed to get on my nerves.

I admitted the truth to her, "I'm surprised myself, because I used to be so bold, or at least I pretended to be that way with the customers."

"That's one of the reasons I had you come down here, so you could see the place first before having to do a session in it. It will seem more familiar to you and you can concentrate on the task at hand. Don't worry, as I said before, we are here to support you."

That was another aspect of it that bothered me. I didn't yet know who "we" referred to and I doubted Gilda would tell me. When I had been an amateur hooker before, I had no one to answer to except myself. Now other people -- unknown to me -- would be keeping track of how I was performing.

I didn't say it to Gilda, but I hoped that this second hooking era would be short enough that I could have the luck to stay beneath the radar of law enforcement. That included both the police and the IRS. I had never been arrested or in legal trouble, but that was mostly because the security at City College was so lax in those days.

Nowadays a student hooker would probably be snatched up within a few weeks, or maybe a few days, at most. I had been quite sloppy and inexperienced during that time, and I had solicited men right on campus, during the daytime.

You may be a part-timer, but this is like being in the major leagues now. Gilda looked so calm with her long dark hair, not like we were about to commit some crimes that could get us fined or put in jail.

I asked her, "When the client arrives, I guess I should meet him down here?" I was surprised that I had asked such a naïve question.

"Sure, that's what you used to do in Maspeth, right? You didn't stand out in the street, did you?" I did remember meeting Paul once in a nearby park. But that whole episode was a kind of lark, not actual business.

"Where can I talk to him on the phone?"

"Since you don't have your own place yet, you can do that in Maspeth, or at the college newspaper office uptown. He can call you, depending on what's convenient for him."

"I don't know if those places are so great for phone calls; the lack of privacy, you know."

"You can use the phone down here. I'm going to give you the keys today."

I said, "This is a bit out-of-the-way for me, I mean to just use the phone."

"It's not so bad. The E train stops a few blocks from here, or you can drive your car down and park it in a garage. And when you have your own place, that of course that will be available."

I was still feeling fluttery, and I wished I had my bottle of Valium. However, it was back home in Maspeth. I used to take more of it to deal with the stresses of my freshman hooking year, but I didn't need it as much since then.

Gilda could sense my emotions. "Nora, let's sit down and have a drink. You seem to have the jitters, as I said. There is a whole bunch of items in the fridge. What would you like?"

I didn't hesitate, "A vodka and tonic would be great."

Soon Gilda and I were sitting on facing sofas with our drinks. I knew I was drinking mine a bit too fast. She said, "You can have another one if you like."

"Let me see how his one goes down first. So this Kevin guy, what exactly does he want?"

"We talked briefly about that, but it's best if you two discuss it directly. Nora, relax, you're going to do fine."

I nodded reflexively. Then I thought about the amount of money I was going to make in one evening, and that made me feel a bit better. I also remembered what the Roman writer Publilius Syrus had said: fortune is like glass -- the brighter the glitter, the more easily broken. I kept that to myself and didn't mention it to Gilda. I didn't want to seem ungrateful for the opportunity she had offered me.

********

The following evening I spoke to that Kevin guy. He didn't tell me what his motives were, but he had a very specific discipline in mind. He requested that I use a tawse on him as he was bent over a spanking bench. That was no problem because there was a whole closet of implements to choose from down in the basement.

He wanted the first eight on the seat of his trousers, and then perhaps thirty more on his bared behind. The exact number would be determined when we knew how the punishment was proceeding. I of course would see the results while he would feel them.

I didn't know the reasons for his requests, but I was used to having all sorts of preferences from my customers two years earlier. That I just chalked up to undergraduate weirdness, but it was obvious that older guys had some strange requests too. But BDSM is a very personal activity, and people have different fantasies they want to live out.

On the very next evening, I was waiting for Kevin in the basement room. It was discomforting to be in that large space all by myself. I had decided to go with the "strict business manager look;" I was wearing a dark gray suit, white blouse, nylon panty-hose, and heels. My glasses were in place; I thought I should be able to see what I was doing.. My dark-blonde hair was in its usual bob cut.

I thought I looked pretty good, very different from the slutty outfits I wore during my freshman year. I was using the name Nora Kimmel in my new career, and Kevin was going to call me Miss Kimmel.

The whole "slave" concept repelled me, and I didn't want to be called "mistress." Instead, I was merely a professional lady doing what I was paid to do, which was mainly to get men back on a straight path -- or rather have them believe that was going to happen. Collecting the money was not my responsibility, however. Gilda took care of all the financial transactions ahead of time.

I was sitting on a couch having a big-glass of wine when the intercom rang and startled me. Being a nervous dominatrix would not go over well, so I stood up and tried to pull my emotions together. I had planned to be polite and not too loud, unlike the brazen and even nasty bitch persona I used to favor in the old days. I needed to get some experience with this new setting and then I could modify my dominatrix personality to fit these different, older clients.

The guy who came down the stairs was about thirty, and he was wearing a jacket and tie. He was pretty tall and good-looking too. You know that expression that a lady can tell within five minutes if she wants to fuck somebody?

Well, I had been going through a long, sexless summer that year, and I wanted to bang this Kevin person within the first ten seconds. Immediately I was getting pussy tingles, intense ones in fact. For a moment I was tempted to forget the whole punishment thing and start off just having a drink with him. Then, we would have a choice of several sofas we could use to copulate on. I don't remember ever being that horny so quickly.

But I had a job to do that this guy had already paid for, and I tried to rein in my lust. I did get him a drink of his own, and we sat facing each other as we talked. We had few preliminary pleasantries, and he told me he was a broker in the financial district. So he has a good job as well as good looks. My pussy vibrated even more. It's amazing how sudden and insistent lust can be.

I asked him, "So Kevin, what exactly is bothering you?" It struck me again how much politer I was compared to the earlier self of my freshman year.

He replied, "You see, Miss Kimmel, I have a girlfriend but I haven't been faithful to her." I had heard that complaint before from customers.

"So how many other ladies have you been with?"

"Only two so far, but that is two too many."

"Are you having sexual relations with these other women right now?" I knew I had smiled when using the word "relations."

"Yes I am, Miss Kimmel, I just can't resist their seductive powers." Where did he get that phrase from? I was reminded of the Sirens who had tried to lure Odysseus off-course. Also, his Miss Kimmel thing was starting to annoy me. Just call me Nora, okay? Or how about Calliope?

For a moment I lost my focus again, and I wondered what he thought of me and my appearance. Hey Kevin, how about I insert myself into your life as the fourth lady in the mix? Nothing really serious, but as you can see we have plenty of space right here to get into some passionate screwing -- right now if you wish.

That would be completely inappropriate, so I said instead, "I see. So you think that a firm tawsing on your rear-end would help straighten out your attitude?" I felt like I was talking in somebody else's voice

"Yes, I'm sure that would put me back on the right path." That sounded weirdly formal. He didn't sound like he was using his normal tone of voice either.

I already had the tawse I was going to use on him. It was on the sofa next to me. I picked it up and showed it to him. It was a thick leather belt that was divided into two tongues, I'd call them, on the business end.

"Have you ever been struck by one of these?"

"No, Miss, I never have." Then why did he choose it? I knew from previous experiences that their reasons for punishment were usually pretexts. What excited those clients, what made them pay for it, was the idea of a powerful woman imposing her will on them.

"It's going to hurt, you are aware of that right? I mean, it's made of thick leather"

"Yes, Miss Kimmel, I already knew that."

I confirmed his request. "So it's eight on the seat of your pants, and an unspecified number on your exposed buttocks, am I correct?" I was very eager to see said buttocks.

"That's right, I think that will work." Actually, it won't work, assuming you haven't just made up the details about those three women.

"You've seen a spanking bench before?"

"I certainly have experienced discipline on them previously, but it was with a regular pants belt." So he wasn't a newbie at floggings in general. A regular belt could sting quite a bit too.

"Then place yourself over this one. You must know how to position yourself."

He certainly did know what to do. The bench was of a trestle type. Kevin placed himself over it and gripped the support bars going down in the front. His behind was the highest part of his body, and it pushed against his tight gray trousers.

When I stood up, I could feel myself getting damp between my legs. A nice set of taut male glutes, I thought. I felt the sexual arousal that often came before, during, and after I had punished a wayward man. But this time it was the guy himself, not merely the discipline I was going to inflict on him, that was also making me horny.

If they had requested it, I had brought a few clients to a climax afterwards with my hands and even my mouth at times. Those actions had always had an extra charge, of course. That night I knew Kevin hadn't made any special requests beforehand, so I thought it best to play it cool for my first dominant gig since 1974. Yet I thought about how my hands and my lips would feel on his cock.

I stepped forward and dared rub both of his cheeks first. I admit, his ass was firm and tight under the cloth of his trousers. I wondered if he was getting an erection. Almost any guy would have one with what I was doing.

Then I swung the tawse through the air a couple of times so that he could hear the swishing noise it made. I lightly tapped his ass with my belt, then I brought it down across his gray-clad backside. He grunted and twitched at the impact.

It also brought out a statement from him. "Miss Kimmel, I need to be severely disciplined for my transgressions. Please show no mercy on me."

I was often impressed with the, well, nonsense these guys came up with before and during their beatings. I kept my voice as calm and level as possible; I didn't use the snarkiness that had often been one of my techniques.

"Don't have any doubts, Kevin. You've been a very bad boy and you really need to be taught a lesson. A sound beating as you asked for should do it."

Did I really say something that silly? It used to be so easy to make up those lines on the fly. And the clients loved a verbal dressing-down from me.

I continued, "Are you ready to take the next ones?"

"Yes, Miss Kimmel, please whip my sinful ass with your relentless tawse."

I briefly smiled; such purple prose about a simple spanking. We had agreed to a safe phrase earlier, dill pickles, but I doubted he would use it.

"Okay, the second stroke then." I swiped him, in the opposite direction, across the seat of his pants with my belt. That one was forceful enough that he yelped something in pain. The noise echoed in the big room. He didn't move much, however.

I was never the kind of dominatrix who made a big deal about the movements or the voices of my clients. If they could take the beating reasonably well, then that was enough for me.

The next six weren't too fast but they were definitely hard ones. During those Kevin tried to push his hips forward to avoid my implacable leather belt. The cloth of his trousers were dented by each stroke

When I had finished that segment, he collapsed back down on the bench and he was breathing heavily. That guy was getting his money's worth. I picked up my wine glass and drank from it, both to steady my nerves and to give myself something to think about besides sex during the interim period..

My throat felt tight, and I was getting more tingles in my cunt. Nora, you haven't changed; you've still quite a perverse chick. I had known for a long time that I had a sexually sadistic side that would come out during those beatings. But the feelings during that session were beyond any of my earlier experiences.

I decided on something. "Kevin, I think it's best during the bare behind portion of this that we restrain your hands by fixing them to the wooden bars." The bench already had leather restraints attached at the correct locations. I had the option of tying his legs down too, but I guessed that wasn't going to be necessary. I had spanked enough guys earlier in my career that I could assess how they were doing and how they might react.

He was still gasping a bit, but he objected. "Miss Kimmel, haven't I taken my lesson like a man? I'm not a coward."

I was surprisingly gentle with him. "It's not a matter of cowardice, it's what is reasonable for the situation." I don't know if that made any sense, but he accepted my argument.

"Okay, get up, drop your trousers and your underwear and get back over the bench." I had never heard the term "female gaze" before, but if there was such a thing, I had it now

I first moved forward to tie his hands down. Our eyes didn't meet; that was common before and during such discipline. Maybe both parties needed to maintain some emotional distance from each other during those proceedings.

Except, I didn't seem to be maintaining that distance at that point. I moved back and looked at his hindquarters; I noted how muscular and well-formed his rear end was. The eight blows through the pants had left stripes across his body. "Your trousers didn't give you much protection during that part of the session."

His voice seemed a bit calmer, "I didn't expect that they would."

For the first time ever, I felt sorry for one of my dominated clients. In my first year with that, I had hand-spanked or swung my implements enthusiastically onto naughty backsides. There was a joy that came from hearing those guys yell and seeing them squirm as I thrashed the rears of undergraduates who probably had contempt for me. There I was, a freshman whore, and I felt like a goddess as I meted out my punishments to those pathetic twerps.

But that time I found that I liked this Kevin person I just met. He has polite and he was quite cute too. His ass looked so vulnerable as he lay tied there, waiting for me to whip his pale flesh, and I felt regret about having to hurt him with my belt.

His balls were clearly visible then. I couldn't quite see if he had an erection, but I suspected he did. For a second I considered asking Kevin out for a date when we were done with the action down there. Well, maybe he would need a few days to recover. But I had only gone out with a client once, my first boyfriend Paul, and I hadn't planned on doing that again.

I pulled myself together and remembered that Kevin had paid for his beating, it satisfied some need in him, and I had to be a professional and do what he had asked for. But I also I felt something like pity for my client. Maybe I had changed more than I had realized in the last two years.