The Duel of The Dommes Pt. 01

Tuesday Morning

Over the last term, Justine and Juliette had got into the habit of meeting for a coffee on Tuesday mornings, when they were both left at a loose end after an early lecture and had nothing else doing until the afternoon. The notion of bringing Dylan along had crossed Justine's mind, but she decided against it. Apart from anything else, his makeover was still a work in progress, though Justine was sure she'd always remember the look on his face when she'd popped a bottle of pink hair dye into the basket he was holding in Bodycare after they'd finally crawled out of her bed on Saturday afternoon.

To Justine's relief, when she got to the cutesy (and rather expensive) faux-American coffee shop next to the Student's union Juliette was already there and unaccompanied. It looked like her lecture had let out early as she'd already killed a mug of something. She was wrapped up in her orange bubble jacket against the cold, but had opened it in the heated cafe to show the black PVC mini dress she was wearing underneath it. Justine had an idea that the hem of the jacket was longer than the skirt of the coat, so neither would cover her green and black striped tights or mismatched Converse high tops. "Hey, Teenie," she said looking up. "Have fun on Friday?"

Justine sat and joined her. "Loads," she said "thank you. Hey yourself, Julie. Who was that masked man I saw you with?"

"A guy from my Psychology course," Juliette said. "He has some rather fancy tattoos, so he wanted to keep them hidden in case somebody recognised them. He probably doesn't want his name throwing around either. I think he might be a bit too shy to make it as a gimp, if I'm honest."

"What, like a whole body suit or something?" Justine thought the lad would need more ink than the great Omi to need a zentai catsuit to cover everything.

"Not quite," Juliette said. "He did blow all the money his parents gave him for aceing his A levels on ink though. He has a really nice back piece of some sort of big-titted chaos demon that he obviously didn't realise might offend Dommes or other women with feminist credentials, one of those spiked chaos wheel things around his right nipple in flat black line work and what he says is the crest of Slaanesh on his right forearm. Not sure what that is, to be honest."

"Warhammer thing," Justine said. She'd dated a few war gamers in her teens. For some reason boys with a taste for funny dice were often willing to experiment. "Slaanesh is one of the four great Chaos powers. Betcha the demon on his back with big boobs is a Daemonette of Slaanesh, or even a Keeper of Secrets."

"Nerd," Juliette said, grinning. The grin showed off the shark-bite ring in the left side of her lower lip. That and the pig ring she sported in her septum were another reason Justine had never thought of Juliette as a top. She didn't think facial piercings were very dominant, and associated the way Juliette was stretching her earlobes with slaves and subs as well. Of course, seeing Juliette with a media Domme and a gimp at her feet in Christine's had left Justine wondering if she'd completely misread something Juliette did back at the start of their university career, which she'd always thought was a hilariously rude brush off rather than an act of sexual Dominance. Juliette's nearly milk white hair was currently cut into a short bob which she kept dishevelled, and the only makeup she was wearing was orange lipstick and matching nail polish.

"Got me," Justine said. "To be honest, I was a bit surprised to see you there at all, because I always thought you were kind of vanilla."

"Just because I never quaff from the furry cup, Teenie, does not make me vanilla."

"That's me told. Fancy another?"

"Please."

Justine went to the counter and came back with a couple of lattes. She couldn't resist waiting until Juliette was taking her first sip to ask: "So why was a straight, Dominant lady like you chatting up a Dominatrix?" To her disappointment, Juliette didn't snort or splutter. She did hear a clink as Juliette's lower lip moving tapped her piercing against the mug, but that was it.

"That's a long and rather odd story," Juliette said.

"You don't want to have sex with women, but you are willing to let them spank you if they're wearing thigh boots and a corset? You should have told me that when we were at college."

Juliette blew a raspberry and smirked. "Sorry, babes. Before we get into this, though were either of the couple of naked guys with you rather than the other couple of Dommes you were there with?"

"One was, and still is," Justine said. "The other was with them, though the two of them did have sex."

"Now this sounds good," Juliette said, smirking and leaning forwards. "Tell me more before I start singing that song from Grease."

"No need to go nuclear, Julie. Dylan, the mousy blond one was with me. He's more submissive than gay but was determined that he wanted to try it on for size. The other guy, Jared, was with my two other companions, who are a lesbian Mistress and slave couple, and is more of a gay boy than a submissive, but he'll strip naked and go to a nightclub in a collar and a cage if that's what it takes to pop a pretty boy's cherry."

Juliette's face as she digested all that was a picture. "Now if you'd told me all that while I was taking my first sip," she said after falling silent to mull all of that over for thirty seconds, "I probably would have spat coffee all over the table. So Dylan and Jared are a couple now?"

"No, Dylan is pretty much my slave now. I am encouraging him to keep an eye out for boys though, as he really enjoyed the gay stuff he did." Justine looked at Juliette's face. "More details, I know. I watched the two of them making out and sucking each other off at Arianna and Jonelle's. The big finale was Dylan licking me out while Jared fucked his bum. We both enjoyed that, and I'm sure Jared did as well."

"That sounds fun," Juliette said. "I'm not interested in girls, but watching a couple of good looking guys fuck is always fun. Damn, maybe I should have said 'hi' instead of us just winking and smirking at each other."

"It's probably best you didn't," Justine said. "Arianna is trouble if I'm honest. She thinks that no woman on Earth is more dominant than her, or straight enough to be off limits. Any girl who goes round hers will end up submitting to her in all sorts of ways, many of them sexual. I don't think that would be your scene, however chocolatey your tastes are. One girl I was fool enough to introduce to her isn't speaking to me anymore." Justine still felt guilty about that. For all she knew, Arianna had put Mandy off any kind of sexual experimentation for life.

"Not really my scene," Juliette agreed. "And if I'd taken Ma..." she cut herself off and started again "...my own escort for the evening into a situation like that, he'd probably have shat himself and ran away screaming. That would definitely have been a bit much for him, even if participation wasn't compulsory. So thanks for the warning, as I'm sure I'll bump into them again. I think I've seen them both in Regal Zone before now, I'm sure."

Justine shrugged. "De nada, babes. If I'd known you were into power games before, I'd have warned you about them long since. Just remember Arianna doesn't always let her slave dress up. The fetish night last month, Jonelle was wearing a collar and a bin-liner rather than a rubber dress and opera gloves. And she had her head shaved."

"Noted. Now, as far as Madame Morticia goes, she was talking about something that might interest you. How would you feel about taking part in a Domme off?"

"Is there any such thing?" Apart from a drunken cat fight over who was the most Dominant or running a headcount to compare the numbers of men queuing up to lick a couple of rival Dominatrices' boots, Justine had no idea how such a thing would work. Presumably male tops had that sort of contest a bit simpler as they could just have beard growing contests or compared the size of their motorcycles, though she supposed a few of the older guys might call seniority over having first editions from the '70s of John Norman rather than buying used paperbacks out out of a four for a pound bin on a market stall half a century later.

"Apparently there is. It seems the famous media Domme has a rival and they're going to have some sort of challenge by proxy. They each pick a protege and have them do a contest, then the one whose representative wins, wins whatever the contest is about. She wasn't exactly clear over that part, to be honest. Spent most of the time we were talking bitching about her rival instead."

"Word is she's a bit of a drama queen and has a real knack for making enemies." Justine had seen all sorts of unpleasant comments about Madame Morticia on the sort of fetish message boards where pervs traded advice and contact numbers. A common piece of advice on those boards was "If you can hire somebody other than Madame Morticia for a video or photo shoot, do so."

"So I've heard. Her rival is, apparently, Mistress Anastasia."

It was very, very wrong of Justine, but the notion of suggesting that Morticia's rival sought out Arianna as her proxy immediately crossed Justine's mind. If Justine had the right Mistress Anastasia in mind, she was even shorter than Juliette's five foot four and made Li'l Kim look like Nicki Minaj. Arianna wouldn't like that, and she'd like dealing with a woman who she couldn't possibly be allowed to top even less. There'd be some sort of explosive tantrum for sure.

"And no, Teenie, I am not suggesting that your uber-Dommely associate with the gorgeous slave girl goes for the gig as Anastasia's rep."

Justine looked down at her coffee cup. "Am I really, that easy to read?" she asked.

"Not usually, but given what we've been talking about and the way you're grinning, I have an idea what you're thinking right now."

"Busted," Justine admitted. "I was thinking that very thing."

"I thought you might be," Juliette said. "Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be interested yourself?"

"Maybe," Justine said. "I'd be delighted to at least talk to a famous media Domme, and it couldn't hurt to find out what the whole set up is. No way I'm committing myself to anything without knowing how the stuff Morticia refused to discuss works, though, and I hope you haven't either."

"Sweetie, I'm reading psychology, remember? I was very careful not to even think anything that could be taken as a verbal commitment, never mind saying anything."

"Clever."

"You knows it. Anyway, can I give Naughty Madame Morty your phone number to pass on to Anastasia?"

"Go for it. In the worst case I can always change my sim. And thanks for thinking of me."

"To be honest, Teenie, I was thinking of you before I noticed you in there. You obviously like submissive boys, and I recall you mentioning that you had a finduck listing on one of the fetish dating sites."

"Well yeah, but I thought proper Dommes who charged and made videos and stuff took a dim view of that sort of thing?"

"Maybe but at least the photos on that account are actually of you, or bits of you. Or so I imagine, as you're not showing your face. It looks like your hair, and and your legs, and it's either the same scorpion you've got tattooed on your arm, or somebody else with the same design, so it's probably your bum and your boobs as well."

"I'm not sure how to answer that," Justine said, and she wasn't.

"You've not taken a bunch of photos off Suicide Girls or OnlyFans and not even bothered to scrub the watermarks off the images is what I'm saying. That puts you a long way ahead of most finducks, doesn't it?"

Justine thought about that. "Okay then, Julie, who are you using photos of on your finduck listing?"

Juliette skipped a beat and then cackled. "Bekki Bondage," she said.

Justine considered that. "Not a bad match, but I don't think her hair was naturally that blonde, though."

"You'll be saying that Cyndi Lauper dyed her hair next, Teenie."

Justine decided to let Juliette have the last word on this one. Juliette's look probably was equal parts Cyndi Lauper and Bekki Bondage circa 1983, maybe with a bit of Siouxsie around the same time mixed in, so the model she'd swiped her photos from wasn't a bad match at all.

The Set Up

Rather than just talking on the phone, Mistress Anastasia had texted and asked Justine if she was free for a meal and a chat. Justine wondered if she should be flattered that a famous media Domme was willing to wine and dine her, rather than just accosting her in a night club. Having agreed, Justine had suffered a panic attack wondering what one wears to a dinner date with a Dominatrix. Farren's, the gastropub Anastasia had said she had a reservation at, was not exactly snobby but Justine doubted that her faux biker jacket and new rocks would strike quite the right note. Instead she'd opted for a satin-y looking (but mostly man made fabric) Morticia dress with a skirt that went down to her lower calves, a pair of pointy toed got style ankle boots with kitten heels and a pair of fishnets, all under a needlecord trench coat from D&G she'd found in a charity shop. To stress how goth she was, Justine's whole ensemble was as black as a witch's cat or a crow's wing. She'd even put on a pair of fishnet wrist gloves, and was now worried that she was completely overdressed.

Mercifully, when she spotted Mistress Anastasia, Justine saw that she wasn't dressed down either. The woman was sporting a car coat (almost a drape jacket) in green fun fur with a pink leopard print, black leather jeans, a white silk blouse, and Justine could see a flash of sheer stocking between the cuffs of her jeans and the tops of the three inch heeled courts she was wearing. Justine's worries about her appearance were suddenly replaced by worries about how she was supposed to approach the woman.

Mistress Anastasia looked round from the bar, and solved the problem for her. "Are you Justine, dear?" she said. As well as being short for a Domme, she was also a bit squeaky for one. Everybody had noticed that in the films she'd made, but she had a real Betty Boop squawk up close. Very sexy, but perhaps not everybody's idea of how a Dominatrix should sound. Justine wondered if they'd treated the audio of her voice in the films to minimise that a bit. Some sort of compression or pitch shifting or something.

"I am," Justine said, screwing up her courage and stepping forwards. "Nice to meet you, Mistress Anastasia."

Anastasia smiled at that. She had a wonderfully expressive face with a wide mobile mouth. "This isn't a fetish club, Justine," she said. "Pippa will do fine. Please don't look so worried, I'm not going to eat you. Would you like a drink before we find a table and start to think about eating? Don't worry, I'll pick up the tab for tonight."

Justine had an idea that even if the place wasn't all that dressy, ordering a purple nasty or a lager top wouldn't be a good move. She looked at the taps and pumps along the bars. Mistress Anastasia had a half empty pint glass in front of her. Shorts were probably out as well, as the last thing Justine wanted to risk was getting tipsy in front of this woman. She didn't think if she started slurring and wibbling she'd make a very good impression.

"Thank you, Pippa," Justine said. "Could I have a Guinness, please?"

"Consider it done." Mistress Anastasia leaned over to the bartender. Justine sank onto the bar stool next to her and hoped the stout would stiffen her nerves a little.

"Are you okay with 'Justine' or is there a diminutive you prefer?" Anastasia (Pippa, Justine reminded herself) asked as the barman set a pint of Guinness in front of her. It was still doing the cloudy settling thing. Maybe a lager might have been smarter. Justine didn't recognise most of the names on the taps, and suspected that they were fancy and pricey micro brews: she didn't usually drink in the sort of pubs where you had to pull your phone out to look up the names of the beers online.

"To be honest, I've had one slapped me in school that I was never all that happy with," Justine said. "Call me anything but Teenie."

To Justine's surprise, Anastasia laughed at that. The Sid James cackle in that high pitched voice was a surprise as well. "Got you," Anastasia said when it stopped. "That's one of the nicest things about university, isn't it? You've got new friends, a new peer group and you can reinvent yourself from the ground up."

"I've maybe not been as successful with that as I'd like," Justine said, waiting for her stout to shift from golden grey froth to black and white. "If there's even one person you were at school with at Uni, you can't ever get away from the person you've always been."

"Well, you can, but it would involve cutting off old friends."

"Right." The beer had settled. Justine took a sip. Hopefully there wouldn't be any fish or white meat on the menu that took her fancy. Another reason to have bought a lager instead, she supposed. "Mind you, if it wasn't for Juliette, we wouldn't be talking in the first place, would we?"

"Perhaps not, but you never know. There are some pretty dodgy sorts at Regal Zone, to put it mildly. It's full of dubious types who can't get into anywhere better. Anyway, shall we move to a table and see about getting something to eat? Bit more privacy to talk seriously there."

"Sounds good. Are you sure you're okay settling the bill?"

Anastasia shifted that mouth of hers into a radiant smile that reached her eyes. "You see, Justine, that right there is why I'm better off talking to you than some of the wannabe Dommes Regal Zone is full of."

***

Mistress Anastasia waited for Justine to finish her fancy cheeseburger (minced sirloin and grated mozzarella, and some sort of gooey sauce with garlic and chillis on a spelt bun with seeds in it) and turn down dessert before she started talking seriously. They spent the meal (Anastasia had gone for some sort of seafood crepes, which Justine might have fancied if she hadn't killed her taste buds with Guinness) in small talk. Anastasia dropped a few anecdotes about films she'd made, and dissed a few Dommes she'd worked with cattily but almost politely. She also, although Justine didn't realise it until later on, pumped her guest and was told rather more about the ongoing project with Dylan and Arianna and Jonelle's Domme and Domme-ier routine than Justine should probably have let slip casually. Finally Anastasia got Justine another Guinness after the waitress cleared the table. "I'm not saying you'll need a drink after hearing me out," she said, smiling that smile again, "but..." she spread her hands and raised an eyebrow.

"The bit that the lovely Morticia didn't tell your friend is what you should be worried about. The Domme off is between the two of us, but we will be using you as proxies and there will be consequences for the loser."

"Such as?" Justine asked.

"The loser will spend a year as the winner's slave." Anastasia looked a little apologetic at that. Justine was suddenly very glad that she had a drink in front of her.

"I'm not sure I could see Julie going along with that," Justine said.

"Meaning that you find the idea a bit more tolerable than she might?"

"Well, maybe," Justine said. "I've always thought that she was straighter than a laser beam, and we're friends so maybe I would have noticed if she wasn't. Still, I thought she was vanilla as well, and obviously I was wrong about that and was likely even deliberately ignoring clues. In any case, I don't think being Julie's slave would be anything like as worrying as some of the alternatives."

"It would be kind of serious, I'm afraid. The whole contest will be administered by the Circle. I'm sure you've heard rumours about them if you do anything in the local scene besides going to Christine's once a month."