The Command Performance

The Command Performance

By ChristopherDB Copyright 2022

Early on Wednesday evening I drove over to Jeff's house. It was a small single story in an older subdivision and he bought it not long ago. A previous owner had finished the basement back in the 70's with dark, fake wood paneling, thick shag carpet, and a bar. Old as the house was, it was all in good condition and he used the basement as a rehearsal space.

We'd been playing with the same local cover band for over a year, with him on the bass and me on keyboards. Our set list had slowly been getting outdated and stale. One of the rules our band had was that if a new song was to be learned by the group, two people had to already know it. We had taken it upon ourselves to be the guys that learned new material in advance and presented it to the band later. Wednesday night was when we usually got together to work on stuff.

I let myself in through the unlocked side door as usual, carrying one of my keyboards in a gig bag down the stairs. There was no need to bring an amplifier because Jeff always had a small PA system set up in the basement. He was down there already and I could hear him playing the bass line for one of the songs we planned to go over. However, I was surprised when I saw him.

"What the hell, man?" I asked, seeing the way he was dressed.

Jeff was sitting on folding chair over by his amp as I'd expect, but he was wearing this black satin French maid costume, with white lace trim, some black fishnet stockings, and even some black patent shoes with low heels.

"Sorry, man. Mistress Amanda will explain everything," was all he said. As if on cue, I then heard the steady click of high heels walking across the kitchen floor above.

As she descended the basement stairs, I could see she was wearing a pair of black leather thigh high boots that laced up the front through maybe a hundred chrome grommets and hooks. A pair of tight black leather shorts with a wide studded leather belt at her waist, and a short sleeve black satin blouse displaying her awesome cleavage completed her outfit.

Mistress Amanda had her long dark hair pulled back in a thick ponytail, as she usually did for play sessions, and was brandishing one of her riding crops. She paused at the bottom of the stairs.

I briefly looked at Jeff once again, this time noticing there were several paddles on the low wooden wire spool that served as a coffee table, and then looked back at Mistress Amanda.

"You will have to excuse your friend," she said. "He had no idea that I was going to drop in. Sit down," she ordered, pointing her crop towards an empty folding chair near Jeff.

She normally went by the name Mandy, and had been somewhat of a regular fan of our band. At gigs she would often show up dressed in black leather and sexy high heeled boots. At some point when talking with her on one of our breaks I had made a comment about how she dressed like a dominatrix. Well, it turned out that she did enjoy dominating men, and we had gotten together a few times for play sessions.

It had been a fantasy of mine for a long time to be spanked by a dominant woman, worship her boots, and maybe some other stuff. Up until meeting her I had only been able to get one former girlfriend to spank me with a ping pong paddle, but she wasn't into it, refused to wear any special outfits for that, and it had always been disappointing.

My sessions with Mandy, or Mistress Amanda, as she insisted on being called for those occasions, had been intense to say the least. She would paddle my bare ass until I couldn't take any more, and then order me to lick her spike heeled boots while my bottom cooled off so I could take more swats.

While it had been great to finally live that fantasy, it couldn't last. Mistress Amanda liked to play rough, and I could only take so much. It had been a mutual decision that we wouldn't do sessions together anymore.

"Not long after we parted ways," she explained. "I was approached by your friend, Jeffery." She poked the leather tip of her riding crop at his chest, and what was likely a padded bra underneath his maid's uniform.

"It seems he had overheard us chatting about sessions, or maybe just picked up bits of conversations and figured out the sort of fun we were having. It turns out that he also fantasized about being dominated by a strong woman. When he realized we were no longer seeing each other, he introduced himself. We've had a lot of fun over the past few weeks, haven't we, my pet?" She firmly pinched one of Jeff's cheeks.

"Yes, Mistress Amanda," he said obediently, though he winced in pain.

"So you naughty little boys like to be spanked. You're fascinated by women in high heels, or you like being dressed up in girly clothes, but you never think about my fantasies," she let her words uncomfortably hang in the air.

"Well, I like musicians. Their minds are so... creative. So... naughty," she traced the tip of her riding crop under my chin. "Now that I know of two submissive men, both musicians, and I knew when you would be getting together, I decided to show up and take charge. I want you two boys to play for me. A command performance!"

She suddenly looked me in the eye, and then prodded me under my chin with the tip of her riding crop.

"Now you listen to me, Christopher. You know that I like to play rough, and for anything long term we may not be compatible. However, all I want is for you little boys to play a few songs for me. I don't think that's too unreasonable," she mocked.

"Jeffery here tells me that since it's just you two boys, not a full band, you are going to have to work on arrangements or something first," she said, caressing his fake breasts with her riding crop. "I'll give you one hour to prepare. You will both get a spanking after the show, regardless of how good it is. However, the better it is, the easier I will be on your little bottoms. I don't even care how many songs you play. The emphasis should be on quality, not quantity. Do you understand?!"

"Yes, Mistress Amanda," we both replied, jumping slightly at the raised tone in her voice.

"Christopher!" She was staring me down again. "Jeffery is my loyal slave. You're the wildcard and I've considered you might chicken out. Now he's willing to do a solo act, but I what I really want this evening, is both of you." There was an awkward silence.

"Perhaps you two want to discuss this in private before making your decision," she suggested. "I'm going to go upstairs and smoke a cigarette while you naughty little boys talk it over."

As she walked towards the stairs she looked back over her shoulder.

"Oh, Jeffery, show Christopher the outfit that I want him to wear," she said, laughing as she walked upstairs.

Jeff, almost apologetically, handed me a plastic shopping bag that had been on the floor beside his amplifier. It contained a short plaid skirt, a skimpy sheer white top, and some tall white stockings. A slutty school girl costume.

"Man, she showed up about an hour before you got here. She knew this was our usual practice night. Had me change into this," Jeff said, gesturing to his French maid costume. "Maybe I've worn this for her before, but that's not important."

"Yeah, she was always trying to get me to dress up for her but I wasn't sure how I felt about that and never did it," I said.

"Listen, don't get hung up on the clothes," Jeff tried to reassure me. "All we have to do is obey her. Play a couple tunes for her, and give her the fantasy she wants. Yeah, she's going to paddle us, but you've been through that before and everything will be fine."

I could hear Mistress Amanda's high heeled boots periodically click on the kitchen floor upstairs, and could picture her leaning against the counter, smoking her cigarette.

I remembered a time back when I was almost nineteen years old and a friend's mom caught us in their basement splitting a can of warm beer. She threatened to whip both of us with her belt. The fact that we were adults didn't matter to her, and she went upstairs to have a smoke while she thought it over. She had been a strict woman and I think she still whipped my friend even though he was a young adult. That tension back then, it had the same flavor.

"If you want to take off, go ahead," Jeff told me. "But I'm supposed to convince you to stay. She told me that if you left, she was going to punish me. Something painful and degrading was all she said. You know what she might have in mind?" He sounded sincere, and nervous. We heard Mistress Amanda walking towards the top of the stairs.

Painful and degrading. I told Jeff I had no idea what his fate might be. She and I hadn't had all that many sessions together.

"We'll both play for you," I told Mistress Amanda when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Her face lit up with a big smile, and I think I heard Jeff sigh with relief.

"In that case you need to change into your slutty little outfit," she ordered. "It didn't come with any panties so you will have to go commando, and there is no time to fit you with a pair of high heels. I'll leave you two bitches to practice, but first I think you need some incentive to do a good job."

She picked up a paddle from the table. It was a long, wide, thick wooden paddle with a bunch of holes drilled in it. Possibly the most brutal paddle in the collection.

"I know this is your favorite paddle," Mistress Amanda told me with heavy sarcasm, just to watch me squirm. "You need to take those jeans off right now!"

At that moment I might have had some second thoughts about the command performance, but kicked off my shoes and started to unbuckle my belt. I was somewhat relieved that she walked over to Jeff first.

He had wasted no time in bending over his chair and pulling down a pair of white ruffled panties. Mistress Amanda pulled up the back of his maid's dress, revealing that Jeff was also wearing a black lace garter belt. His big hairy ass was already a bright shade of pink.

While I wasn't surprised that Mistress Amanda had evidently spanked him not long ago, I wasn't sure if it had been to encourage him to do the command performance, change into his maid's dress, or what.

Mistress Amanda landed a heavy swat across his buttocks, followed by a second one. Loud, deep smacks. I knew how bad that paddle could hurt, but Jeff took the pain in silence. Suddenly Mistress Amanda looked at me. I'd frozen, watching her paddle Jeff, with my jeans just down below my waist.

"Christopher! I told you to get those jeans off!" she scolded. Then she walked over to me, grabbed the waistband of my boxer shorts, and yanked them down to my ankles along with my jeans.

"Bend over," she ordered. I tried to get into position, my clothes tangled at my feet. When I had bent over my chair, she swatted me with the paddle. I gave a low grunt of pain.

"You will be dressed as the school girl, so this schoolhouse paddle is appropriate for you," she taunted, giving my ass another firm swat. I know she could have easily spanked me harder, and realized she wasn't swatting me as hard as she had Jeff. I was surprised she didn't paddle us some more. Instead she had us kneel in front of her and ordered us to lick her boots while promising to put on a good show for her.

It felt a little awkward, there on the floor next to Jeff, licking one of Mistress Amanda's boots while he licked the other. While I can enjoy a spanking within reason, licking the boots of a real dominatrix was a thrill every time. I like to give long strokes with my tongue on the smooth black leather, while Jeff gave a bunch of small licks like a dog drinking from a bowl of water.

"I'll play my best for you, Mistress Amanda," I promised after worshiping her boots. Jeff groveled a bit more and referred to her as a powerful goddess, which I thought was a little over the top, but she seemed to like it. Then she took a step back from us.

"You have one hour to practice. Get to work!" Mistress Amanda ordered, turning away and then going up the stairs. Her ass looked amazing in those sprayed on leather shorts.

Jeff brought me back to reality. He picked up a set list from a recent gig. Since he'd had time to think before I'd shown up, he'd already been making plans in his head.

While he read off what songs he thought we could do, I took the school girl costume out of the shopping bag and started to put it on. It might have been a one size fits all, but the skirt was so short it barely covered my ass and the bulge of my cock was clearly visible in front. The top had short puffy sleeves that were a tight fit on my arms. There were no buttons and it seemed it was meant to be tied in front for an extra slutty look. The white knee high stockings felt strange and somewhat tingly on my hairy legs.

Although our band had a long list of songs that we covered, there were surprisingly few that we thought we could pull off well as a duo. We had a lady in our band that played a little bit of guitar but also sang lead on about one third of our material. All of those songs were out. The band also did some stuff that had elaborate guitar solos or had other things happening musically, and those were out of the question as well.

As I was setting up my keyboard, we had cut the list down to only a handful of songs that we thought we could cover. Bad as that sounded, a few advantages we had were that Jeff was a decent guitar player, and I knew enough guitar to be dangerous, giving us some versatility. He had an electric guitar down there in his basement, along with a cheap, beat up acoustic. Sometimes we played along with a drum machine when learning songs and briefly considered using that for our performance as sort of a third instrument, but then decided not to.

We talked over different arrangements where he would play guitar instead of bass, and maybe do something with me on the acoustic guitar instead of keys. A short set list seemed to be coming together but there was still one major problem. Neither of us sang lead on anything our band played. During a normal show we threw in bits and pieces of backing vocals and that was it.

"Musically we can probably pull this off," I said optimistically. "Vocally though, I just don't know. It might be pretty rough. She might paddle the shit out of us," I said nervously, looking at the small collection of paddles on the wire spool table. Jeff was concerned about that as well. We started to quietly compare notes on our experiences with Mandy, but realized that time was running out and we had to focus on practicing.

Some songs came together better than others. My acoustic guitar playing was worse than I remembered. We wrote down a lot of notes to keep everything straight. It also seemed like we wasted a bunch of time moving equipment around and setting things up in front of the old sectional sofa. Jeff insisted it was the smart thing to do because Mandy would probably want to sit there while we played.

I'd been stealing nervous glances at a clock on the wall behind the little bar that was back in an alcove under the stairs. I suspect that Jeff had been doing the same. Almost an hour and a half had passed and Mandy, or should I say Mistress Amanda, hadn't come downstairs. We were a little surprised at that.

Maybe she was being generous, allowing more time. Demanding as she could be, Mistress Amanda could be kind enough to do that for us. It was also possible that she just wanted to stress us out by letting the anxiety of performing for her build up. She would enjoy that. Then the doorbell rang.

"Holy shit!" Jeff exclaimed.

"You expecting anyone?" I asked.

He said he wasn't. It might be some neighbor dropping by at random. Then we heard the front door open, the sound of ladies' voices and Mistress Amanda greeting them. I thought I heard them being invited inside, and soon there was the sound of multiple pairs of high heels clicking on the floor above.

Jeff nervously approached the basement stairs and called up.

"Mandy. Who is here?"

I could hear her approaching the top of the stairs.

"That's Mistress Amanda to you! I invited a few guests to the show. I thought that neither of you would mind," her voice trailed off into laughter.

I'd been so focused on the music, now once again I was self-conscious about being dressed in some skimpy girly outfit. Being dominated by a woman is my personal private fantasy and as far as I'm concerned the fewer people that knew about it the better.

Jeff looked visibly stressed as well. Mistress Amanda hadn't mentioned any guests earlier. Who had she invited?

It's tough to say if I was angry, frightened, or maybe a little of both. I glanced at the pile of my clothes over by the wall. There probably wasn't time to change and then make an escape. I could grab my clothes and run out the side door at the top of the stairs, giving the other ladies only a quick look at me, if even that. My pickup truck was parked in the driveway, and was probably blocked in now. It would be dark outside though, so I could change into my clothes in Jeff's backyard with some privacy, and figure out driving off later.

Then I heard Mistress Amanda at the top of the stairs and knew there would be no escape. She instructed the ladies to leave their cell phones on the kitchen counter, saying that there would be no photos or video taken, and something about bachelorette party rules. What happens at the party, stays at the party. That comforted me to a small extent. Mistress Amanda led them down the stairs.

"Now as you know, men always like for their women to dress up in slutty little outfits, so I thought it would be fun for them to dress up for us and see what it's like," she explained.

The first lady behind her gave a few laughs as she came into view. It was Jan. Both she and her boyfriend came to see the band regularly, but I didn't know much else about them other than they rode a Harley Davidson. That might be why she was wearing some black leather chaps, with a matching motorcycle jacket, and some boots with low blocky heels.

The second guest was Tammy, who was carrying a box of wine, and she squealed with laughter when she saw the way Jeff and I were dressed. She's a hot little blonde and was looking really sexy in a black leather mini skirt, lacy cami top, and some black leather spike heeled ankle boots.

Tammy followed the band as well, and might be considered a groupie because she's been in the sack with two guys in the band, and possibly more. Smoking hot as she looked, I was not thrilled to see her, just because she seemed kind of dingy and I didn't think she could keep her mouth shut about this.

Then the final woman came down the stairs. Holding a thick red and black riding crop, she was wearing black leather thigh high boots that were wrapped with several buckled straps and had tall heels. Dominatrix boots. Her pants might have been spandex or something like that. Leather looking, black, and sprayed on. Her tits looked amazing, molded into this bustier style tank top, made of dark red satin and black leather.

I didn't know what her name was. She looked a bit older than me, and had a few extra pounds on her though it was well proportioned. Long, auburn hair, always wore what looked like designer glasses, I'd seen her at gigs before with Mistress Amanda. Her friend, maybe a relative. She always seemed to have an eye for me, but we had only spoken a few words with each other, if any.

Since all of them were wearing some black leather and boots with heels, I thought that might have been a request by Mistress Amanda, so they would have a dominatrix look. Jan's boyfriend was a big biker dude and it was tough for me to imagine her whipping his ass. Tammy looked like she was dressed up for a night at a club.

This third lady though, the way she was dressed, knowing she had some connection to Mistress Amanda, and never having seen that red and black riding crop among her collection, she could easily be another dominatrix. Perhaps that meant more trouble for Jeff and I.