Message-ID: <19606eli$9902030434@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (15&16/31) (FemDom, Romance) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: tigger@alices.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <36b7cbac.3385646@news.erols.com> Tales of the Cabal: Protecting the Mistress by Tigger Copyright 1999, All Rights Reserved. Archiving and reposting of this work is permitted only on sites where *no* fee (including so-called adult checks) of any type is charged and provided that my authorship, the story itself and this statement of rights are included and are unchanged. This story is based on the Cabal as I developed it in one of my first stories, "Domination Games." This story is archived at the Nifty Archive. Url: www.nifty.org/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Tigger/ The file is Domination-Games.html *********** Protecting the Mistress by Tigger Part 15: Second Thoughts Before Firing the Crucible Mary left Gerald to clean up her room while she went down to the Grand Ballroom to ensure that everything was prepared per her instructions. She almost hoped that it wasn't. Gerald's reaction in the main salon last night had nearly convinced her to call off the planned scene and do something else. But sometimes the best medicine was the most bitter tasting. At least, that is what she had to keep telling herself. "Checking things out?" A soft, English accented voice asked from behind. "I think you will find that it is all as you specified." Mary turned to face Gemma. The tall black woman was strikingly attired in, of all things, skin-tight pink leather from her fingers to her toes. Mary's double take drew a rueful chuckle from her friend. "Alex, I am afraid. The sight of me in this particular shade of electric pink just turns him into an animal. When I let him be the dom, he puts me in this color, albeit with a lot more shiny, well oiled black skin showing, and when I am here as the Domme, I often wear it because I like to indulge him." She sighed deeply. "I can hardly believe I am saying this, but the color grows on you. I have almost gotten to the point that like the look myself." "It is. . . . well, quite . . .eye catching." "Good thing I am not shy." Gemma responded equably. Mary winced at that. "As your Gerry evidently is." she added quietly. "In fact, I would say he is terribly shy. Odd for such a well built man not to want to show off the fruit of what must have required hours in the gym." "That's my Gerry. So. You heard, did you?" "Darling, the whole compound has heard. Alex tells me you were ready to take him out of here right then and there." "I didn't see Alex, but it's true. Only he talked me out of it. I am not at all sure that was the correct decision." She stepped back and looked down on the stage and all the trappings she had specified for this scene. "Oh God, Gemma, he is going to hate this so much." "Enough that he will balk? Not even try at all once you tell him what you want?" Mary considered that and shook her head. "No, he'll try. For me, he will try." Her arms came up to clutch at her sides as if to ward away a chill. "What he'll very likely do is simply endure." They had been having such fun with their little games at his home, and the thought of Gerry just . . .just enduring her games like punishment again was a huge letdown for her. Besides, it could ruin everything. If only he could get past that wall of his fear by himself today and begin to enjoy himself here - even a little bit - they could make so much progress together. Was that too much to hope for? Mary wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. "I almost wish he had agreed to leave last night, Gemma. I could lose everything with this." "But you could gain it all, too. No one ever said that everything a dominant asks of a submissive has to be something the submissive enjoys. And for God's sake remember that is all you are actually doing - *asking*! If the submissive is only asked to do enjoyable things, what is the point all the effort it takes to be the Domme? Hell, what's the point of being the sub in that case? It is the conquering of the dark and fearsome unknown that makes this thing we do special, that instills the nobility into the gift of his submission. You selected today's plot for a reason, Mary, and now you are uncertain. All right, that is fair. Answer me this. Given what you believe is the basic problem, does this scene accomplish the purpose you set out when you planned it?" "But after last night, Gemma, the way he reacted to the others simply standing there and watching him. . ." "Does it answer the purpose, Mary?" Gemma asked again firmly. Mary wanted to say no, wanted to yell it, but finally nodded. "I think so. At least, if he sticks it out all the way." "All right. Is there another, less stressful program that you could substitute that would accomplish the same purpose?" Defeated, Mary shook her head. "No. I wish there was, but if this doesn't work, or if he doesn't react as I've anticipated, then I am completely wrong about him and why he attacked me that night." She turned away. "And I will have lost. The only problem, Gemma, is even if I am right, I could still lose. He might very well hate me afterwards." "You knew this was a long-odds gamble from the beginning, Mary. So let me ask you this. Is there any possibility that you might yet find another way to win without this?" The answer was immediate. "No, the stubborn, loving and lovable idiot would keep on trying to protect me by staying away from me. And that is absolutely the worst thing that could happen to me. . . .to us." "Then there is your answer. So, are you going to play this afternoon's scene out the same way as the last time you did it here?" Mary looked back down at the stage, and shrugged. "Just about. Except the last time I used this script, I used the threat of a public strapping as incentive for the sub's good behavior and best effort. The sub in question did precisely what I ordered or he would be strung up in the center courtyard for the Whip-Mistress." "Why not do that today?" "Gerald would opt for the strapping in a heartbeat." Mary responded wryly. "As strict and demanding as the WhipMistress is, Gerry would handle whatever she could dish out without a qualm. She would take him deep physically so that he'd carry the marks and the memories for days afterwards, but she wouldn't reach him mentally or emotionally. No, he can't have any way out. Not if we're going to do what needs be done." "No way out??!? You aren't thinking of denying his safe word, are you??" Gemma was shocked. "No, of course not. I just know he'll resist taking that way out for as long as he can. His whole purpose in being here is to restore my standing within the Cabal, and he is afraid of how the Council might rule if he does safe word. No, I expect that he'll just swallow hard, keep on trying and keep on hating it." Mary checked her watch and realized she'd been gone almost three quarters of an hour. "I have to go. Gerry's got to dress me and fix my hair and make up before the demonstration. See you there, Gemma. Wish me luck." Gemma watched the petite woman make her way back towards the living area. "Luck, girl. A whole big lot of it." And then she turned toward her own rooms. She needed to be held and fortunately, Alex would be right where she left him. Lazy boy recliner chairs that converted into mini-torture racks were very handy that way. Part 16: A Challenge to Manhood "Ladies, Gentlemen and slaves, I give you Mistress Mary and her slave, Gerald." Gemma had finished the announcement of the demonstration with the introductions of the participants. Gerald looked out into the darkened ballroom. It was in the nightclub setup of scattered tables and chair with dim lights and candles. From what he could see in the minimal lighting, the room was about half full. If his hands hadn't been cuffed behind his back, he'd be trying to cover himself with his hands. Mary gave a slight jerk on his leash and began to stride down the center aisle towards the main stage. It was show time. He followed her, not too close, but not too far, either. His station behind her and his lowered gaze provided him with an excellent view of Mary's back and tight little bottom. She was dressed in a simple, almost backless evening dress of unrelieved black. Not overtly sexy or flashy, it showed off her slender figure and small frame superbly. He'd personally spent the last hour trying to get her hair into that tight french braid, and had finally succeeded on the fourth try. Her cosmetics had been a little easier. He hadn't done a bad job on her at all, if he did say so himself. Refined, elegant and sexy. Gerald had always enjoyed playing the lady's maid to his Mistress. Pampering her that way didn't embarrass him. Actually, he found the experience affirming to his masculinity. It certainly did not seem unmanly to take care of the woman in his life, and there might not be many more such opportunities in his life once the contract had been fulfilled. And her silly game of "geri and Mommy" had brought more fun and laughter into their lives than they'd had in months. Mary led him up on to the stage. He looked around for any clues and was immediately confused. The stage was an exact replica of the dressing room in Mistress Mary's suite right down to the attached bathing area. Had she been making him practice doing her makeup and hair on the sly for this? Was that it? He was going to dress her and fix her up here? And then what? He'd fail somehow and have to be punished in some way? Mary snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor in front of her, and Gerald quickly took his place on his knees before her. "Slave." she said in starkly cold scene voice that always made Gerald want to flinch from her. "You are here today to entertain my friends and me." and she waved out to the faceless masses beyond the stage lights. "Would you like to know how you are going to do that, slave?" Gerald remembered the woman who had comforted him last night, who had offered to surrender her place in the Cabal and simply take him home because he was so embarrassed at being seen bare assed. And this was the same woman, he reminded himself. "Yes, Mistress, please." he answered out quietly. Mary spun on her high heel shod foot and moved toward the large armoire located near the back of the stage. He nearly fell onto his face trying to crawl after her on his knees, his balance out of kilter with his hands locked behind his back. With a theatrical flourish, she opened the door and showed him and the audience the contents. It was filled with women's clothing - lingerie, dresses, shoes - and several wigs on their head-shaped stands. His first thought was that he had guessed correctly, but then he looked at the dresses more closely. They seemed a little large for his little Mistress and not at all her style. In fact, he was fairly certain that he'd never seen Mary wear anything remotely like those before. "I wish to be served today, slave." Mary continued. I was right after all, Gerry thought to himself. "I wish to be served by a maid, slave, and I have decided that *you* will be that "female" maid." Gerald felt his mouth drop open. That's what she wanted him to do? Is that what she meant about letting him get dressed? "Mistress," he asked softly. "You are going to put me in . . .those . . . clothes and have me serve you that way? Here??" Lord, it was one thing to become Gerrie for her, but this. . . "Oh no, slave," she said in a sweet, teasing voice. "I'm not going to dress you up." Gerald started to breathe again. "No, indeed. YOU will be dressing yourself up in those things. I said you were going to entertain me, and part of that entertainment is going to be watching you turn yourself into a passable female for me." she looked him hard in the eyes. "Right down to your smooth, hairless skin, slave." Gerald looked at the thick pelt of body hair that had been his since his teens and then stared back up in disbelief at Mary. Even when she'd made him dress up like a little girl until she'd freed him from the Gerrie persona, she'd made no attempt to de-fur him. "Let me be very clear about this, slave, right from the very start. I want to be served by a lovely woman, *not* by some Saturday Night Live caricature of a drag queen. If you please me with your efforts, then I will take you up to my room and let you serve me for the rest of our stay in the privacy of my suite." she let that offer dangle in front of him like a carrot on a stick. "In the course of that, I will undertake to further your tuition in feminine deportment and behavior." Now it was time to brandish the stick, she thought. "However," she continued in a darker, more intense tone of voice. "Fail to entertain me, or worse, fail to please me with your efforts, and I will not bother myself to train your further. Instead, I will simply turn you over to the Mistress in Charge of the evening meal and evening entertainments. You will join the other slave *girls*, first as a waitress and then as a serving wench. In the course of that evening, I am sure that the Mistress in Charge, as well as the other Mistresses and Masters will see to your to your training for me. . . . and to your correction for failing to obey my commands." With that, Mary reached down and unlocked the cuffs from his wrists and then removed his collar. "You may begin. I suggest you start in the shower, slave, with the depilatory. I don't have all day to watch you try to shave that mat of fur off, and besides, you won't get it all off using a razor, anyway." With that parting shot, Mary strode off the stage and took a throne-like chair directly in front of the stage. Gerald just stared at her for what seemed like an incredibly long time. Several of the guests started to fidget, waiting for him to get up off his knees and begin. "I. . . .am. . . .waiting, slave." Mary caroled from her seat. His safe word was on the tip of his tongue. He hadn't bargained for anything like this. There was no way he could pull this off, and he was going to spend the entire night being tormented by everybody here. It wasn't worth it. Except, it was. Or at least, Mary was. And he'd promised. Slowly, Gerald stood and began to make his way around the stage, finding the shower, the vanity and the various tools of the trade all put there for his use. Now the real purpose of the past two weeks of training became clear. Everything, from the body service to Mistress Mary, to being made to parade himself about for her in those minimally heeled shoes to learning the mysteries of lipstick and other cosmetics, had been pointed towards what she wanted him to do here and now. She'd told him she'd help him get ready for whatever came down at the demonstrations. He just hadn't figured that he'd been preparing to do himself up like that. Shoulders drooping, Gerald found the hair remover, and moved to the shower. His last thought before stepping in was that the damn thing had a clear glass door and not an opaque shower curtain. Then he looked at the box and began to read the directions and the cautions. ~--------------~ The afternoon eventually became somewhat easier on the humiliation-sensitive submissive. Throughout the long trial, Mary sat in stern judgement of his efforts. Not once did she touch him or offer him the slightest encouragement. Quite the contrary, from her throne of power, she gleefully took every opportunity to tease him further and to amuse the audience at his expense. It began the moment that Gerry stepped into the shower stall, and began to apply the thick pink salve all over his body. "Slave!" Mary commanded harshly. "I don't want to see your back. I want you to always face your audience unless I order you to do otherwise. We want to see your smiling face. . . . among other things." Finally, it was time to wash off the hair remover, and he stepped from the shower. Uncertain what to do next, Gerry walked over to look at the clothing he'd been provided for this test. Mary stopped him with an order to "Wait, slave. We should be sure that you did an adequate job, slave. Some of that finery is delicate and I wouldn't want to see it ruined by stubble." "Dina!" Mary yelled and was immediately answered by a tall, slender blonde kneeling at the side of the state. "Assist my slave, please. Check him over to make sure that he. . . I mean that *she* has gotten rid of all that unsightly body hair." "Yes, Mistress." she replied and moved up to escort Gerald to the front of center stage. The woman carefully and thoroughly checked what seemed like every square inch of his skin, ensuring that Mary and not coincidentally, everyone else in the room could see her every move. She put him through a series of very embarrassing poses and postures so that she could "be absolutely certain that every inch of your Mistress's body is properly smooth." It was a tossup which of two particularly nasty poses was more emotionally difficult for him - bending over and having her spread his ass cheeks as wide she could for her inspection, or having her hold his penis in one hand while she twisted and displayed his scrotum for her audience with the other. Both of those positions drew laughter and not a few raucous comments from the gallery, especially when, in spite of himself, his cock erected under the woman's skilled and teasing touch while she displayed him for Mistress Mary. When Dina finally released him, he started to turn away, but was stopped by a light kiss brushing his cheek. Shocked, he looked up just in time to see her give him a teasing smile and a sly wink. Strangely, it made him begin to feel a little better. In truth, he realized, he couldn't be much more "on exhibit" than he'd just been. Whatever else she'd done, Dina had made sure he had no secrets from the crowd of onlookers. And he'd survived it. He looked back at the open armoire and relaxed just a bit more. Was this really any different than what Mary had done to him over the past couple of weeks? That had all started out being pretty humiliating, at least at first, but in the end, it had been fun and exciting. He thought about the chance to play with Mary in her room tonight and felt his still semierect cock twitch. Down boy, he told himself. Gerald was enough of realist to know that, in all likelihood, he'd be spending the night in the cabaret serving drinks, but suppose he really did well? Suppose he really gave these gawkers a show they would not soon forget? Maybe. The actual dressing turned out to be more difficult than what he'd done at home with Mary. First of all, he'd never dressed up completely before, unless he counted Little Geri's play dress or Gerrie's pullover latex dress which didn't really count. Mary had dressed Geri, and Gerrie's dress was like putting on a too-small, too long t-shirt. He just pulled in on over his head and shimmied like burlesque dancer until the damn thing was as low as it would go. And his only accessories had been the two-inch high heels - no undies and no hosiery. His second problem was the realization that none of the dresses and skirts (if those tiny scraps of fabric could be counted as such)would fit him. They were all several inches too small particularly in the waist. "Well of course they don't fit, slave." Mary chided after he'd tried and discarded the third or fourth outfit. A mischievous grin blossomed on her lovely face. "You haven't put your undies and. . . .ummm. . . foundation garments on yet, silly." A quick check of another drawer had unearthed a heavily boned, black leather waist corset. Gerry tried, but he just couldn't get the rear lacing corset sufficiently tight. He just wasn't limber enough to reach in back of himself and then pull. "Oh, all right. I suppose if I am to have any entertainment today, we will have to move this along." Mary turned her head to a table behind her. "Slave Dina, go assist my hapless slave." The blond slave girl again made her way up onto the stage where, after giving Gerry a hearty slap on his still bare ass, she began to expertly tighten the laces. "Well," Mary huffed extravagantly, "I had to get someone to help you carry out my orders, slave, when I specifically wanted to be entertained by *you*! That is twice you've needed outside assistance, dear. I can't say you've done all that well just by your own efforts to this point, slave." That cuts it, Gerald thought wryly. I am going to be playing "Fraulein Slut the Tavern Wench" tonight. Is this one of those cases where when something is inevitable, you might as well close your eyes and try to enjoy it? Or was that think of England? He decided he'd try to enjoy it. This time *he* kissed Dina and gave *her* a flirtatious wink. Gerry's wry conviction that his evening's fate was already sealed became ever more certain. Mary refused to be pleased by everything he did - just the opposite, in fact. The first two dresses were all wrong for "her", Mary declared loudly, much to the amusement of the assembled membership. Then he laddered the first three pairs of hosiery he tried on, she *hated* each of the first four wigs he selected and he was simply not at all graceful in the "modestly high heels I provided for you." Only the damned "modest" heels were actually well over four inches high, which was a good two inches taller than anything he'd experienced in his days as Gerrie. He thought, incorrectly as it turned out, that he managed to do a creditable job with the makeup, and Mary conceded that it was adequately done from a technical perspective, "But you got the colors all wrong. Those are far too subtle for a blonde. Those would be more appropriate on me. Now, clean your face and try to get it right this time, slave. Quickly if you please, before You begin to bore me and my guests." The general laughter that ensued put lie to that assertion, but it didn't really matter anymore. He'd again done as she'd directed. Finished at last, Gerald turned back to face Mistress Mary. He'd done his best, and he was satisfied with that. Even all these people laughing at him hadn't seemed quite so bad as it had last night. Slowly, Gerry slunk back to stage-center, one hand riding high on his hip in as vampish a pose as he could manage without falling on his face in the spiked heels. Hips swinging, earrings dancing, he pranced up directly in front of the throne. For several long seconds, the two of them just stared at each other. Gerry felt a muscle beneath one eye twitch as he looked for some sign of acknowledgment, some tiny bit of emotion, some glimmer of approval in Mary's visage. He found none. She just kept staring right at him. What more could he possibly do??? What more could she possibly want??? Then, inspiration struck. Gerald recalled a lesson Mary had taught him the first night of his Gerrie French Maid incarnation. Gerald daintily lifted the front hem of the tiny skirt, slid one heeled foot slowly behind the other to curtsey to his Mistress. Gerry sank down, his head bowed, and held the position against the incredible strain of supporting his out-of-balance-weight on one heeled foot. Which ultimately did him in. In trying to impress Mistress Mary, Gerald held the single-leg, deep knee bend too long. That, along the fact that the deep curtsey was far more physically difficult to hold in four inch heels than in two inch heels, and there just was not enough strength left in the forward leg to bring him safely upright. Gerald overbalanced badly as he tried to rise and suddenly found himself flat on his back, a leg pinned beneath him. Without order, Dina ran forward to help him. Gerald didn't feel the subtle, but expert hands checking his leg and ankle for signs of a serious injury, nor did he see the nurse's quick nod of reassurance aimed in Mary's direction. He was too busy trying to struggle back to his feet. Mary waited, using every bit of acting ability she possessed to appear impassively disinterested, and every bit of her will power not to run to his side, until Gerald was standing upright and facing her again. "I cannot believe," she said shaking her head in obviously exaggerated disgust, "that I was so foolish as to believe that you were ready to show off to my guests." She stood slowly and looked past Gerald to the other person on the stage. "Slave Dina, see that this . . . this person presents himself to the Evening Mistress in Charge so that other Mistresses and Masters may attempt to succeed with him where I have so obviously failed." Gerald watched as Mary turned on her heel and strode away from him. It was going to be a long night, he mused with one last glance at Mary's retreating form. Too bad he could not move that gracefully. End Part 16 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----