Message-ID: <19607eli$9902030434@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (17/31) (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: <36bacc48.3541210@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 17. Service With a Smile. . .Or Else The serving wench, Geraldine, looked over his assigned section of the nightclub. He counted himself lucky that, despite what Mistress Mary had implied, there were only *female* dominants seated there. Gerald reminded himself again to think of each of the dominant women as "Mistress". Mary's last order had been a dispensation from her directive reserving that honorific to her alone. "It is just too time consuming to find out each Domme's title. It slows service, so all of us expect to be called Mistress by the serving staff." At least all the males currently in Geraldine's section were submissives, and they could not order him around. He hoped that wouldn't change any time soon. But Mistress Mary was not in his section. She was seated in the section next to his, but when she'd arrived at the Cabaret, she'd loudly demanded that she be served by a real wench. "Why on earth would I want to be served by him, I mean her?" she'd pointed out to the Maitresse D'hotel, "He's already failed me once today by not becoming a good enough she, and embarrassed me in front of my friends. I refuse to give him another opportunity to hold my talents as a Domme and a trainer of slaves up to further ridicule. Not this trip, anyway." But there had actually been a tiny, teasing little smile on her face for him when she'd uttered those words. Gerald thought there had been - wanted to believe that there had been. That belief ... helped - a little bit, anyway. It got him over those first few high heeled-tottering circuits around the dining room during the dinner hour. At least he hadn't dropped a tray. Another sissy had, and on a Mistress no less. The sissy's own Mistress had given him a stern public paddling and then turned him over to the victimized Mistress for the remainder of the night. The pair of delighted Dommes had hustled the sobbing submissive out of the dining area to get started on their night of restitution. Gerald had initially expected much the same fate was in store for him, but miraculously, he'd made it well into the evening without any major incidents or punishments. Actually, serving dinner and then wenching at the Cabaret hadn't been all that bad. The intensity of games the members played at the Lodge, along with all that lovemaking depleted everyone's energies and gave them ravenous appetites. Most of Geraldine's dinner customers had been far too interested in eating to come up with anything too involved to do to her...err. . him. However, that had changed quickly once the evening nightclub- style program of "entertainment" began - most of which was not on the stage. And a very great deal of the off stage entertainment starred a certain cross-dressed male serving wench. Dina, who was also wenching that night, had been wonderful to him and a great help. The gorgeous slave girl had taken him under her wing and shown him a few of the tricks of his or rather her new trade. But being the center of attention of all these people still bothered him when he let himself think about it, so he tried not to think about it. In his mind, he visualized himself back home, playing with and for Mary. Every Mistress who called on him became Mary, and he tried to react to each of them as he had to his Mistress during their recent wonderful, playful scenes. Much to his surprise, it had worked. He had been able to focus on each Domina as an individual and once he'd gotten caught up in that interaction, the other watchers had faded and his anxiety had eased. And even more to his surprise, some of it had even been fun. The Mistresses were, in the main, cut from the same cloth as his beloved Mary - playful, teasing, caring and - he very strongly suspected - deeply sensitive to what was going on in his head. At least two had noticeably backed off just as he'd felt his shields start to go up again. That obvious concern had helped him slip back into the fun of the thing, too, before they had released him back to his duties. More than once that night, he'd caught himself unconsciously rubbing the well-tenderized cheeks of his bared fanny that his tiny skirt presented rather than hid. The first thing that the Mistress in Charge had ordered was that he strip off his panties. Of course, no self respecting Domme and only a very few of the privileged slaves could resist such a blatant and open invitation. Geraldine the serving wench had been patted, fondled and pinched so many times he did not even want to think about what his butt would look like in the morning. He'd been spanked at least a half dozen times with bare hands, paddles and once with something that looked like a leather slipper with a handle. That had been quite the experience. Gerry had not thought the odd little toy could do very much and had very quickly learned otherwise. The Mistress who wielded that instrument from hell had taken exception to Geraldine's serving wench-voice, or rather, to her lack of one. "Sweet cheeks," the pleasingly plump, matronly Domme had said as she squeezed the cheeks in question. "You just don't sound girlish enough yet. Why don't we just help you, eh?" Moments later, Gerald had found himself laid over the woman's lap with his tiny skirt flipped up. "Here's the drill, cutie." she said with a teasingly gentle first swat on his upturned butt. "We will keep this up until my friends here think you sound like the sweet little maid-slave your Mistress wants you to be for her." Initially, Gerald had reacted as he always responded to corporal punishment - with determined stoicism. Which was precisely what the Mistress did not want. After a few hard swats that elicited no obvious reaction from Gerald, she'd bent over to whisper for his ears alone. "Now, honey, you aren't being whipped and this isn't punishment so there's no need for the enduring martyr act. This is a game - C'mon and play it out with me!" Her next swat had been the hardest of the lot and caught him by surprise, evoking a startled little squeak from Gerry. A pat on his back told Gerry his inadvertent loss of control had somehow pleased the woman. The "Still not very girlish, Elise." comment from one of the other women seated at the table finally clued him in. They weren't using him solely for their own amusement. They really were playing with him. And Gerry resolved to play for and with them, too. Gerry spent the next ten minutes squirming and squealing - generally raising a hellish din - as the Mistress gave him a very thorough, very expert paddling Much to the amusement of everyone else in the Cabaret. Finally, he reverted to his "little girl Geri" voice. "Please, Mistress, no more. Geri will be a good girl! Don't spank Geri anymore, PLEASE!" he'd begged in the clipped falsetto tones. The spanking had stopped immediately and his skirt replaced with great ceremony. Gerry had stood, and with tears trickling down his cheeks (a few of which were real), Gerry had curtseyed and thanked the Mistress. She in turn had admonished him to "present a more properly girlish countenance in the rest of your duties, slut." in very officious tones, but her smile and wink had let him know she was pleased. He'd minced away, swinging his hips and ostentatiously rubbing his fanny to the amused applause of the other tables in his section. Dina had pounced on him immediately and made him fix his face before the Mistress in Charge caught him. "Good job, sweetie. That was just perfect. I could tell your Mistress was delighted with you. I was watching her watch you and she was grinning ear-to-ear. Just keep it up, just like that. Next time someone grabs your butt, hip into their hand, give a little wiggle and smile." Then she'd kissed him and sent him back to his station. A tall, large framed Domme with unusually bright blond hair beckoned him over. Stifling a bemused sigh that would certainly have earned him yet another bare-bottomed public spanking, Gerry picked up his serving tray and strutted over to the woman's table in the far back corner of the club room. "How may I serve you, Mistress?" Gerry asked in the stylized ritual greeting of a Cabal serving wench. The woman smiled broadly as she stood to face Gerry. In her heels, she was considerably taller than he was, despite his own heels. Moreover, now that Gerry could really see her, it was evident that her large size was entirely due to muscle and not fat. The lady evidently pumped some serious iron. "Well, now." she'd purred in a pronounced southwestern accent. "You've just looked so damn cute wobblin' around on those purty heels," suddenly she was on Gerry, pushing him backward and wedging him into the nearby corner. "I just have to get to know you a little better, slut." She'd mashed her mouth down onto Gerald's own, claiming him with her tongue before backing off just a bit. "Yeah, make that a lot better, Sweet cheeks." The woman had a grand time, "feeling you up, you sexy little slut." Gerry pretended to try to escape, but didn't. She was just too strong, and besides, he couldn't get any leverage in those damnable shoes, anyway. Her hands were every where at once, stroking, fondling, and pinching, her body grinding against him. Suddenly, his body thoroughly crushed between her and the corner and unable to move at all, Gerry's self protective instincts flared and his shields momentarily snapped back into place. He froze for several long moments as the he reeled under his attacker's sensual assault. She was skilled, this amazon domina, and she had her prey just where she wanted him. Grinning malevolently, she slid her hand under his skirt, and took possession of his cock. "Guess you like this a heap better than you want to admit, slut. A hard dickie doesn't lie." she whispered as she continued to fondle him. It was almost too much, too quickly for Gerry. His safe word sprang to his mind, his lips and tongue curled to form the words, his lungs filled with the necessary air. He never got it out. Whether by design or by luck, her mouth descended once again to claim Gerry's, effectively gagging him while she continued to stroke his rampant erection. His imminent orgasm began to clutch at his guts, and Gerry began struggling even harder to escape. The Domme also sensed Gerald's imminent climax, and backed off precisely at the last crucial second. She just stepped back and watched as Gerry fought to recover himself, a thoroughly self satisfied smirk on her face. In the sudden surprise, it was all Gerry could do not to reach down there finish what she had started and so rudely had just interrupted. Dimly, Gerry realized that was what she was waiting for. Her hands were poised to capture his own if he made any move to grab his aching cock. Another game, Gerry, he thought to himself. For a second, he considered following through and letting the Mistress "punish" him, but he discarded that idea. She was a very powerful woman and his fanny was still very tender from that infernal spanking slipper. Well, he was learning that when one was dealing with Dommes, unpredictability was an consummation devoutly to be desired. Or something like that, he mused. Without warning, Gerald went up on his tip toes and laid a loud, smacking kiss of his own hard on the still smiling lips the surprised Domina. Gerald took advantage of her momentary amazement to duck around the woman and then ran away as fast as he could, squealing in his little girl voice, completely unaware of the wildly cheering audience or of the small, but growing smile on Mary's face. ~---------~ Mary had watched Elise's spanking scene and Hera's fondling scene intently, all the while wishing she knew what was really happening in Gerry's head. He was obviously trying so very hard, she thought. He'd gotten a fairly nasty surprise when she'd explained the scene to him. It was one thing to make a fool of yourself in front of the woman you love, knowing that is what she wanted you to do for her. It was an entirely different matter to be put on very public display while making a fool of yourself, particularly for someone with Gerald's distaste for humiliation play. Playing the bitch during his afternoon adventure into women's clothes had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She had been so proud of his efforts, but she had not been able to let any of that show because the whole point of the exercise was to get him out onto the floor tonight as a serving wench. That was where the real lessons would be learned. Where Gerald could learn that regardless of how apparently humiliating something appeared to be to him, here at the Lodge it was *only* a game. And that "people" when used to describe her friends here at the Cabal should not be a curse word. Letting Dina go to him when he fell was the hardest, but now it looked like she might have won - at least a little because the lessons were apparently being learned by her beloved. Somehow he'd shed at least a part of that infernal self control of his. Somehow he'd found it in himself to play the fool for her and at least seem to enjoy himself while doing it. There was no way the old "I-am-in-control-Gerry" could have come up with that little topper to Hera's game. Nor would he have reacted the way Hera obviously expected, either. No way would Gerald ever do something so personal and intimate as masturbate in public, but what he had done had both shocked and thrilled Mary. And the dumbfounded look on Hera's face had been absolutely priceless. Mary sat back and signaled Dina to bring her another glass of the non-alcoholic wine she preferred when she was going to be scening afterwards. She had a big night planned. Her little serving wench maid was going to get the reward her truly superb efforts so richly deserved. The deplorable condition of Gerry's makeup after his escape from the big bad blond had necessitated another trip to the Sissy's Room. (as opposed to the Ladies Room where only Dommes were allowed. Girl slaves had their own facilities, but often used the Sissy's Room) Something caught his eye from his service section. A tall, slender auburn haired Domina dressed in white was gesturing, quite insistently, with her empty wine glass for him to come to her. Beside her was a large, powerfully built man, kneeling at her feet and gazing up at her with love-filled eyes. Sighing in soft appreciation of their obvious love, Gerald began mincing, toward her table, his cramping toes and insteps screaming every inch of the way. Only then did he wonder what the hell she had that long, white-plumed feather was for. ~--------------~ Gemma slid into the empty chair at Mary's table with a worried frown on her face. "How are you holding up?" "I'm doing okay." she said diffidently as she watched Gerald make his way towards the white clad domina. "About as well as he is, I guess. He's trying so very hard, Gemma, and doing so very well, but he's walking very near the edge right now, Gemma. I hope the women in that section know and understand that." "Most do, I think. You'll notice he hasn't been quite so much in demand since Hera groped him. I don't know what surprised her more - the Gerry didn't try to masturbate for her or that incredible kiss he laid on her before he took off to get away from her." "Yes, I saw her surprise. Frankly, I'm a little surprised myself. Things are actually going much better than I dared hope. I was afraid he was going to lose it with Hera." "We had the safety monitors nearby just in case, but he didn't lose it. In fact, he has done very well. And Rayna's going to try to help. She is going to see if she can tease him into a even better frame of mind. She can do magic with that feather of hers, and a good laugh and a much-delayed orgasm may just help him really turn the corner. We may make an exhibitionist out your shy little control freak yet, sweetie." Just then, a helpless, almost hysterical giggle turned everyone's head toward the red-tressed domina's table. When she turned, Mary saw Gerald, stretched out on his back over Rayna's table, his high heeled feet bound to one pair of legs, and Rayna's sub-husband Stefan holding Gerald's arms and pulling his body taut. She'd divested Gerry of his almost useless skirt and had left him only in his hose, garter belt, waist corset and gloves. The source of his forced mirth was currently flicking at the pale white flesh, just above tops of his dark stockings. That sound almost broke Mary. It was the first time Gerry had laughed since they'd left home Friday night. Maybe there was still a chance, she dared to let herself hope as another, very girlish giggle drew her attention back to her lover. She'd have to find a few feathers of her own for after the Cabaret - when she showed Gerry just how much his efforts pleased her this day. End Part 17 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----