The Director Helps a Marriage

This story involves characters introduced in my story "The Director's Kitten." Like that story, it contains elements that could place it in the Mind Control category.

Cat Vincent sipped her wine. A few weeks ago she had been broke, and now she was dining at a Kirby and June's, all thanks to the intervention of a man she knew only as the Director.

The couple at the next table were talking. Catherine strained to hear, while trying to look focused on her food.

"Why can't you be more assertive, Cliff?" the woman asked.

"Well, I'm not built that way, Jane" Cliff sounded a bit irritated. "If you'll tell me what you want, I'll do it."

"To be more assertive," the woman repeated. "More, well, dominant."

"That's not telling me what you want," said Cliff. "You know, a lot of women would love to have a husband who didn't mind being told to do the dishes."

"Asked, you mean?" Jane asked.

"Whichever."

"They'd love even more a man who did the dishes without asking, I suppose. But I don't mind doing them. I don't care who does the dishes, Cliff."

Cliff sighed. "Can we talk about something else, please? I'm looking at the most beautiful woman I've ever known, and I'm still madly in love with you, and it's our anniversary for God's sake."

Jane's voice softened. "I'm still in love with you, too. I just wonder if we're a good fit sometimes. Seems we both want the other to be in charge."

Cat smiled to herself. It wasn't a problem she had. There was no doubt the Director was in charge. He seemed to know everything about her. She knew almost nothing about him, except that she loved serving him. And tonight, he had asked her to eat a meal in a fancy restaurant at his expense and listen to the couple celebrating their third anniversary. She'd had sexier tasks, but this one wasn't exactly a hardship.

Cliff was a good-looking man, tall, athletic, with a square jaw and tousled blonde hair. His wife, Jane, was curvy, brunette, and had a lovely smile. As the evening proceeded, they became more affectionate toward each other, but the frustration that lay beneath that first interchange continued as well.

Eventually the two went home, and so did Catherine. From her laptop, she sent a message detailing every aspect of what she had seen and heard.

Two hours later, she smirked as she received an e-mail with new instructions.

***

"I sure do like a man who knows what he wants and can ask for it, don't you?" Cat asked. She was running on the treadmill. The woman next to her was Jane, who didn't seem to recognize her from the restaurant. In the restaurant, Cat had made a point of trying to blend in. This time, Cat was wearing a lowcut red spandex tank top without a bra, and she'd attracted lots of furtive glances.

Jane blinked at the stranger's choice of casual conversation. "Um, yeah, that'd be nice."

"My man is like that," Cat said. "He tells me exactly what he wants. I never have to guess, and I never have to wonder whether we're doing what he wants."

"Uh, um, good for you."

"I can tell that's what you need, too."

Jane sighed. "How do you know so much?"

"We submissives can spot each other, can't we?" The idea was silly, of course. Although the Director seemed to know all sorts of things. Maybe he could spot a submissive just by looking at her.

"Um, sure." As expected, Jane wasn't going to argue with her.

"I can set you up with a guy," Cat said. "Very dominant. Especially in the bedroom."

"I'm a married woman."

"Is your husband dominant?"

Jane laughed. "No, he is definitely not."

"Don't you think your marriage would be better, if you were getting what you needed from ... someone?"

"I'm not going to cheat on my husband."

"Well, maybe he'd go along with it. You never know, until you ask."

Jane shook her head, and a few minutes later left the treadmill for the shower.

Cat had gotten more used to working out lately and pushed herself. She kept running until she saw Jane leave the shower and head for the door. The other woman didn't make eye contact with her, but Cat was sure Jane would remember her if she kept wearing variants on the same outfit. Only after Jane left did Cat head for the showers herself.

It was odd to her, the comfort she felt. It hadn't been explicitly stated, but she suspected that the man she'd be setting Jane up with would be her own Master. She would have killed -- well, not literally -- her old boyfriend if he'd slept with someone else. Now she was facilitating. Ever since that night the Director had kissed her -- the night she'd also knelt on the floor and sucked his cock in the darkness -- things were different. Serving the Director's will was her purpose. If he wanted Jane to serve him, too, that was up to him. She knew there was at least one other who served. She wanted what he wanted, and did what he ordered. She'd never been happier.

Just thinking about it in the shower, she almost forgot she was in public and touched herself. She was turned on a lot more lately, more than she ever had been in her life. But she wasn't allowed to orgasm without permission.

Remembering that she needed permission to touch herself just turned her on more. She went home, reported on the conversation, and waited for the Director's next direction, hoping it would include permission to use her vibrator.

***

A few hours later, someone else reported on the same conversation. "The oddest conversation, today at the gym," Jane called it. Her husband listened as she recounted it.

"So you feel you aren't getting what you need?" Cliff asked.

Jane sighed. Had he not been listening these past months? "Yes. That's how I feel."

"And what if I'm not getting what I need?"

"What's that?" asked Jane.

"Well," said Cliff, "How would you feel if I went to a dominatrix?"

"No way!" said Jane.

Cliff shrugged. "Well, then." The silence hung there.

When Jane had started the discussion, she was still hoping it would prod Cliff into being the man she wanted, at least in the bedroom, even if just for the night. Now Cliff had moved it to a matter of quid pro quo. Neither of are getting our needs met, so it's fair. But perhaps there is another way.

"If I said yes to the dominatrix, would you let me go --" she hesitated before choosing a word " -- go serve another man?"

Cliff pursed his lip. Jane couldn't read him. Was he angry at the suggestion? For a few moments she entertained the thought that he would grab her and force her to the bed and tell her she was his and his alone. Instead he walked away. A few minutes later she heard the familiar sounds of a video game being played in the den.

The rest of the night they barely spoke a word. They settled into bed and turned off the light. Then he said, "About the discussion earlier, we will do things however you wish, my love."

She didn't respond. She wondered if he was saying that because he wanted to get her needs met -- or if he was saying that as a way of meeting his own. Either way, she'd been given a free pass of sorts, she supposed.

Now she had to figure out what she would do with it. Cliff was soon snoring, but it took her a while to get to sleep.

***

"Hello," said Jane as she stepped onto the treadmill next to Cat at the gym.

"Hi!" Cat replied.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About my marriage being better."

Cat grinned. "Did you talk to your husband?"

"Yeah. I don't know. He said we could do things however I wished."

"He sounds a bit submissive himself."

"Yeah. No kidding. He's a great guy."

"He's just not all you need. You need him, and you need something he can't give you, too."

Jane blinked. "It's like you know me."

"You want me to get you a date?"

"It seems crazy. I mean, I hardly know you. What's your name?"

"Catherine."

"I'm Jane."

Cat supposed it would be rude to say, "I know," so she didn't. "Pleased to meet you."

"What's my husband going to think, if I'm out on a date?"

"Maybe you should make sure your husband is entertained while you're gone."

"He mentioned a dominatrix."

Cat smiled. "I'll make sure someone comes by for him, soon after you leave the house. Trust me, he'll be well taken care of."

Jane shook her head. "I really don't even know you," she said. "It's ridiculous. A blind date? And one for my husband?" She kept running on the treadmill, her eyes straight ahead now.

A man stepped onto the treadmill on the opposite side of Jane and started running. After a minute he turned the machine all the way up, but he still barely seemed to break a sweat, although he did at least have to breathe heavily. He wasn't particularly handsome. In fact, other than his high level of fitness, he was mostly simply non-descript. The girls both noticed him, and noticed the speed and inclination of the treadmills, but other than that they ignored him.

"Catherine?" the man asked, turning his head toward her, talking past Jane.

She didn't recognize him, but there was something familiar about his steel gray eyes. "Um, yeah." She noticed Jane looking between the two of them.

"Looking good as ever." He looked over to Jane, and said to her, speaking clearly, "This woman is the most trustworthy person I know. I would trust her with my life." It was then that Catherine recognized his voice, and the eyes clicked for her. The Director had eyes like that, and a voice like that. She had never seen his full face.

"Really?" Jane said.

"Absolutely, for certain. You trust her, don't you?"

For a moment Jane hesitated. "Yes. I don't know why, but I do."

"You're a very perceptive woman," the man said, and slowed his treadmill down. A few moments later, it stopped. He headed toward the men's showers.

Jane smiled at Catherine. "I trust you," she said.

"Eight o'clock on Thursday. Be at Santini's Italian -- you know where that is?"

"I can do an internet search."

"Good enough. Be prompt. He likes promptness."

"What's his name?"

"Ask for the Director."

"That's an interesting name."

Cat smiled. "He's an interesting person." And I think you just met him, because I don't have any other explanation for why you suddenly trust me. Now I know what he looks like. He's not as impressive as I thought he would be, without the mask. Or rather, he doesn't look as impressive. But he must have been doing the equivalent of sprinting up a hill, the whole time he was carrying on casual conversation.

Jane chewed on her lip. "I'm nervous. But I'm looking forward to it. And you tell me my husband will be okay?"

"Every effort will be made to make sure he's happy when you get home. I can't promise. But I'll do everything I can."

Jane looked like she wasn't sure what to make of that. They both jogged a little more, and then she asked. "You'll be taking care of it personally?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Oh, yes. I trust you."

Because he told you to. "Then I will." Hopefully the Director would be okay with that adjustment to the plan, but he had empowered her to make decisions when she was working on his behalf. Would he be jealous of her with another man? Somehow she doubted it. He knew she was his.

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. "Time for me to hit the shower," she said, letting the machine slow down.

"Me, too," said Cat.

Cat made sure that she included a description of every birthmark and curve of Jane's body in her report an hour later and waited anxiously for a response. She added, mischievously, "I know what you look like now."

The response came almost immediately. "No, you do not. You see what I want you to see. You have done well. Here is what you'll be doing to entertain Cliff Jensen," began the message. Cat read it, and her eyes widened.

She loved working for the Director. She got to do such interesting things.

***

Five minutes after Jane left the house on Thursday, Cat got out of a black Audi. It was a cool evening. She wore a black trench coat and an old fashioned fedora. Her slender form might well have been mistaken for a small man by anyone who saw her approach Cliff and Jane's house.

Cliff opened the door at her knock.

"Mr. Jensen?" she asked.

"Yeah," said the man doubtfully. He seemed to suspect she was selling something, or perhaps pushing a religion.

"Your wife Jane sent me. Won't you let me in?"

"Where is she, anyway? She didn't say anything except that a new friend she met at the gym invited her out."

"You're going to find out the answers to all your questions, Mr. Jensen, but first you have to let me in."

Cliff looked doubtful, but he stood aside. She pushed the door shut behind her, and then undid the sash holding the coat together. In seconds, it was on the floor. She had studied herself in the mirror, so she knew just what Cliff was looking at. Her breasts, which she would usually have described as small, looked much larger in the tight leather corset that pushed them up, leaving a hint of aureole visible. Suspenders held up her fishnet stockings, and a leather g-string provided her a scrap of modesty. Her shiny black leather boots had four-inch heels. She'd been practicing since Monday to make sure she could walk in them.

"You, Mr. Jensen, are going to get exactly what you need, providing you do exactly what I say," Cat said, stopping his survey of her body. Every inch of her was crafted for effect, from her heels to her black lined eyes and ruby red lips.

She put his hand on his chest and pushed him in the direction of the living room. "Let's find a nice couch for me to be comfortable on," she said. "I do hope your floor isn't too hard on your knees."

"What's your name?"

Cat smiled. "You may call me Mistress Cat. Or just Mistress."

"My wife sent you?"

"Yes."

***

"I don't know why I'm here," said Jane. "I love my husband. I should go back to him."

The man she was meeting smiled. He was a dark haired man, with tanned skin that hinted at a Mediterranean origin. There was something familiar about his steel gray eyes, but he bore resemblance to the man who had spoken briefly in the gym, other than height and build, so she didn't make the connection. Oddly, he wore gloves. "Henry Arnaud," he said. "Sit down for a moment. You are of course free to leave at any time, but I understand that your husband is being kept rather busy right now, so returning home would create something of a scene. You have time to kill, and you might as well do it while eating a nice dinner."

She sat down. "I suppose. But nothing is going to happen."

"That," Henry said, "Is entirely up to you."

The tuxedoed waiter came and filled their water glasses. Henry ordered a bottle of wine to share.

If he thinks he's going to get me drunk, he's mistaken.

"Let me say first of all Jane -- you don't mind if I call you Jane, do you? Mrs. Jensen seems rather stiff."

"No, Jane is fine." She didn't want to be reminded she was married and shouldn't be there, anyway.

"I'm a supporter of your marriage, Jane. I want you and your husband to have a long and happy life together."

"But one built on deception."

"No. One built on absolute honesty. In fact, I insist that nothing be hidden between the two of you."

"Well, then nothing will happen tonight, as I implied that I'd be seeing a friend I met at the gym. A female friend."

The waiter brought the wine, which was white, and let Henry sniff the cork. Henry nodded his approval, and a small amount of the wine was poured. Henry sipped it and nodded. The waiter filled both glasses.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter asked Henry.

"I haven't even looked at the menu," Jane said.

"The lady will have the Shrimp Linguini, and I'll have the Salmon Florentine."

"Very good, Sir," said the man, and walked away without so much as a glance at Jane for approval.

She had to admit, she could never imagine Cliff ordering for her like that. Fortunately, shrimp and pasta was one of her favorite combinations -- she'd ordered a similar dish two weeks before when she and Cliff were celebrating her anniversary.

"It's unfortunate you didn't tell your husband the truth -- that you were going to meet a man, in the hopes that he would be capable of dominating you and filling the one need your husband can't fill."

"Can't. Or won't."

Henry smiled. "Can't, I think, at the moment. He doesn't know how. Perhaps we will teach him, but perhaps it's you who needs to learn something. In any case, I promise you that nothing will happen to you sexually without your husband's full knowledge."

Jane nodded. Part of her was relieved. Part of her was disappointed.

He continued. "Assuming that condition is met, Jane -- and yes, it seems quite difficult at the moment -- what would your fantasy be?"

"Well, you are right. I want to be dominated."

"Told to go fetch coffee, that sort of thing?" Henry asked facetiously.

"No," she said. "No, more sexual than that. More forceful, too. I can fetch coffee for my husband."

"So you wish for a lover who will force you to please, and force to admit your deep desire to serve, sexually."

Jane took a breath. It had just gotten much warmer in the restaurant. "Yes."

"You want to be used."

"Yes."

"In every way?"

She took another breath. "In ... every way that's safe."

"Your pussy."

"Yes."

"Your mouth."

"Yes."

"Your ass."

She'd never done that before. She couldn't even imagine Cliff doing that to her. "Yes," she whispered.

"Would you willingly give yourself to me, if I could make all that happen with complete transparency for your husband?"

She nodded.

"I need you to say it."

"Yes, I would. But as I said, he doesn't know I'm here."

"But if I can manage all that, you consent."

"Yes."

"Do you think, given that your husband is being entertained at home as we speak by a gorgeous young woman, who arrived at your door wearing a trench coat and an outfit made primarily of black leather underneath, that he would begrudge a simple kiss to seal that deal?"

Jane hesitated. The thought of her husband with another woman, dressed in leather no less, made her jealous, and she put aside her misgivings. She leaned forward. "Kiss me," she said.

"Say please."

"Please kiss me."

He leaned over and kissed her. Their tongues met for a moment, before he pulled back. "I can tell this will be a very good relationship. A very sexy relationship."

"As I said, he doesn't know, so nothing will happen."

"As I promised, him knowing is a precondition. But we shall see."

The food and wine were excellent. The wine was just dry enough, without being sour, and complimented the food perfectly. He traded a little of his salmon for a bite of her shrimp, and she savored every taste.

"This was a wonderful evening," she said. "Perhaps I will be brave enough to tell my husband about what I am doing, next time, if you're interested in a next time."

"I am, under one condition."

"What's that?"

"You spend an hour more with me. I wish to show you something. I'll drive you there."

She nodded. A part of her, she knew, was hoping he did not take her no for an answer. It would make him a despicable human being, but she would get what she wanted, and not have to take the guilt of having said yes. A greater part of her trusted him, for some inexplicable reason, just as she had trusted Cattherine. She let him pay the check -- he refused to split it -- and take her to his car. He drove to a covered driveway and opened the door to a house that she presumed was his. He gestured her through.

She looked around. A plush couch was the only furniture in the living room. And in the corner of the room, facing the couch --

"What's that doing here?" she asked.

"Full transparency, as I promised."

***

In the Jensen's living room, Cat's phone buzzed four times. She was riding Cliff's face on the couch. Cliff was naked, and his cock was rock hard, but she had ignored that part of him so far. He was eager, if not overly skilled, with his tongue. She disentangled herself from him when she heard the pre-arranged signal.