Perrin's Naive Clientele

"Spud, darling, I just don't have time for your whining right now." Perrin said acidly. She admired herself in the reflection of her wine glass.

Perrin noted the desperation of the sad little creature in front of her. Why she agreed to have lunch with him in the middle of the week was a mystery.

She knew what he said he wanted--Spud, like so many of her other clients was teased once a week and came once a month.

This was what he'd said he wanted. But of course no one ever is happy with what they think they want.

"I read this story in 'Penthouse Variations' and it got me all excited, but I want a key holder who I see now and then, and who I can kind of fool around with."

But then what about the lonely nights, when you can't wank and I'm not around? There are some guys who are fairly attractive, and they sort of got off by picking up girls and orally servicing them, but poor Spud...

Balding, a badly repaired hare-lip, and he looks kind of like a potato sporting four toothpicks.

Too much gin, diabetes and forty-two years of eating his indulgent mother's baklava had made Spud the prize he was now.

And he kept texting Perrin these hideous shots of his lingerie collection!

Spud was hideous enough in his wash-to-wear plaid sport jackets...

Stuffing his obese form into a Merry Widow purchased on sale at Victoria's Secret, or a Frederick's of Hollywood demibra was a true appetite suppressant.

Insanely, the poor thing thought that I would want him to orally service me, because he's feminized himself. Some of the cuter subs of course got the chance but never dressed like that.

And of course Spud lives at home. His parents, aged, went to bed around nine-thirty.

Spud probably spent his non-bowling evenings jacking off in his room, hypnotized by femdom movies on the Ipad.

Not now, though, he's locked.

Certainly, Spud wasn't the most annoying of her clients. Perhaps the worst currently was Pockmarks (nicknamed as such because of the atrocious condition of her thighs.)

Pockmarks had spent many years as a paralegal while taking and failing the Bar; then she switched to a brokerage and failed the Series 7 exam a number of times, and after this had a nervous breakdown and became a Park Ranger.

Fortunately, Pockie was independently wealthy, and had exhausted many therapists and then hoped that perhaps Perrin would be able to get her "focused". Three money grubbing ex-husbands hadn't; and her parents paid her to stay away.

But Pockmarks did weird shit like show up at Perrin's apartment, kneeling naked in the hallway...this would have gotten Perrin evicted if she hadn't been gifted the building.

Now though the old Jewish broad who lived downstairs gave Perrin hostile looks in the elevator. But of course Pockmarks had read about how dominas loved this sort of thing.

True, Perrin put subs through it, now and then.

She made an insecure clergyman drive her around Buttermilk Falls naked from the waist down; they all got off on humiliation, but they ALL wanted to live in a damn porno movie.

Pockmarks had fantasized about having Perrin put out her Marlboros out on Pockie's fat ass; Spud had said he knew that his penis needed a "timeout" but was much distressed by how long those periods were to last.

Spud had asked Perrin to give him a tough task--so Perrin had ordered Spud to suck Cyrus, another slave's cock, and poor Spud felt he couldn't' go through with it.

And now Spud, having finally gotten Perrin to agree to dinner, had nothing to say.

"So how are you, Miss Perrin?"

"I'm fine." Perrin wondered if Austin, another of her subs was the chef tonight. Austin screamed like a little bitch when Perrin rubbed habaneras peppers on his balls.

"I am so glad we got together. I feel like this is a date."

So optimistic. "Well, Spud, if you can afford it, I'll go out with you a couple nights a week. You understand you're paying my hourly now."

Spud looked a little depressed by this.

What was wrong with this woman? Perrin was a gorgeous creature, sure, and she was pressing all his submissive buttons, but didn't she realize that Spud had so much to give her?

It was like back in school, when Spud would tutor the cheerleaders, and listen to their tearful stories of how the Boyfriend had mistreated them. There might be a perfumed hug or two, but that was about it.

And Spud was so horny. So frustrated. He probably should ask for a looser tube. Normally he was in his private executive bathroom twice an hour, jacking off, thinking about Fiorella, and his assistant.

Fiorella probably would have been horrified if she knew her boss fantasized about being spanked and dildo-raped by her.

Big haired Fiorella looked very dominant, but her goals in life were to get a nice tan and earn enough to take her no-good boyfriend to Club Med twice a year.

Spud had at least had a healthy fantasy life.

Despite not wanting to suck Cyrus's cock as per Mistress Perrin's instructions, had often fantasized that he was Fiorella's slave husband and had to suck her boyfriend's dick...

Or just lick her juices off it....

But in the real world, of course, that wasn't going to happen, and so he'd decided to live his fantasies by hiring Perrin to look after him.

Spud had a lot of discretionary income, as he lived at home with indulgent parents, and he began funneling this into weekend visits with Perrin.

Sometimes Perrin would keep Spud for a full 48 hours, and he'd be put through canings and enemas and that sort of thing.

And Perrin would rub sour cream on her twat and let him give it a few licks, pretending it was another man's cum.

But that was just once a week, and Spud really wanted more.

Like right now, he so wished that his chastity belt was off, and that Perrin was rubbing her feet on his dick under the table, perhaps having it unzipped and sticking out in some humiliating way..

And he thought they could talk about all this, but Perrin was a do it or don't but don't discuss it kinda gal.

Restaurants were not a place where she felt like humiliating him, and possibly embarrassing herself.

So maybe he should just ask for the key and go home and jerk off!

They could go back to the way things were before, when Perrin would just tie him down and give him the long teasing hand jobs...

Then he could have his Fiorella fantasy themed jackoffs during the week.

Amazingly, it seemed like Perrin was reading his mind. "No, I know what you're thinking."

"What?"

"You are going to ask for the key, and have us just go back to the way things were, aren't you?"

"It's just so depressing, Perrin, not being able to touch myself and still not getting to see you for six days at a time!" Tears appeared in his eyes.

"Big whoop, most of my subs don't get to see me that often."

This was bullshit, she had a couple she saw quite a bit, but they didn't look like balding potatos with four toothpicks sticking out. Whatever.

She sipped her wine, realizing white wine was mostly horsepiss.

"Look, part of your submission to me is sitting at home and missing me and NOT calling me, and not being able to service yourself."

"But Perrin--"

"You get punished and teased once a week, and believe you me, it's a lot more exciting to go home and be really frustrated, if you really want to be a slave. If you don't, I'll give you the key, but you can't come back."

Austin peered out of the kitchen door at Mistress Perrin. He wondered if it would be impertinent to send her a surprise dessert, cherries jubilee or something.

Austin had no idea who Perrin's dinner partner was, but he could probably guess why the poor bastard was crying.