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Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (19/31) (FemDom, Romance)
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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 19: Aftermath in Fugue
Mary was as frustrated as she could ever recall being with a
submissive and was getting more so by the minute. Not a good
state of mind for a dominant, particularly for a dominant
working her submissive partner as hard as she was finding it
necessary to work Gerry at that very moment.
Gerry simply wasn't responding to her in the scene, wasn't
giving anything back to her as she pressed him. He was just
taking everything she dished out without a whimper or a
complaint. He did exactly as he was told, when he was told,
where ever he was told. It was like he was a character in a
book she was writing, following her plot line perfectly.
Except characters in her writing usually argued and fought
with her more than Gerald was right now. She'd gotten more
real reaction from spanking her Ken dolls when she was a
little girl.
She knew why, of course. It did not take very much empathy or
understanding to figure out what was going on in his head.
He'd been like this for almost two weeks - ever since they had
returned from the Lodge a day early.
That femme scene had gotten to Gerry. He'd been able to
internalize the more humiliating aspects of the scene, and had
successfully faced down that dark place in his soul. More
importantly, he had finally been able to begin playing with
the monsters that lurked there, hidden in the darker corners.
At least he had been able to play until the very last when
he'd been forced to deal with Victor's stupidly insensitive
game. And then, that dark place, with its anger and rage, had
closed back in on him, again, frightening him once more. In
reaction he'd reasserted and strengthened his normal, already
rigid grip on his control, until he had become this . . .this
thing, this automaton psychic vampire that sucked every bit of
life and energy out of her, but refused to open itself enough
to give anything back.
Damn Victor! Mary fumed to herself. Damn her, she conceded.
She could have predicted something like this would happen.
She'd prepared him for the other parts, and after some initial
uncertainties, her Gerry had faced those demons and dispatched
them. Until Victor and Beth. As soon as she'd seen him being
forced to deal intimately with a male dom she should have
intervened - should have at least given him a time out while
she negotiated with the dom.
But that was something only seen clearly now in hindsight.
It did not help her current problem, but Beth had called to
apologize for the game that had precipitated this. She'd said
"I am really sorry, Mary, but I even reminded him of his safe
word before anything much happened. I mean, with everything
he'd been through that day, I thought he was an experienced
player who'd understand I was giving him the chance to safe
word."
Mary had assured her that he was very experienced but had been
under a lot of stress that day. "But darling, he never even
tried to safe word. Heavens, one minute he's there looking at
the pudding, and the next, we're surrounded by shards of
pudding covered glass and he's running away."
"It's not the first time, Beth."
"Not the first time? Good lord, you don't mean he's the *one*
who jumped you? And you are still with him? For god's sake,
why?"
That answer was easy, Mary mused. Because she loved him, both
as a man and as a submissive. He had so much potential, if
only she could get him far enough past his fears for her for
him to relax that inhuman self control of his. Hell, from
what Gemma had told her, several of the Dommes were still
raving about how much fun they'd had with him once he'd
started to loosen up a little. If only they could have ended
the evening on that positive note.
But now, like a turtle who had pulled in every emotional
extremity, Gerald was simply letting her flail away at his
hard, unfeeling shell. No matter what Mary tried, and she had
tried almost everything since their precipitous escape from
the Lodge, she simply was not touching any part of Gerry's
soul.
Still, that cloud came with a silver lining of sorts. Mary
was now certain she understood the greater part of what had
led to his mid-scene attack on her months ago. With that
understanding she'd begun to develop a more detailed plan of
action in her campaign to get her man back on a permanent
basis.
But that plan would only work if she could reach the damned
idiot again, and so far, nothing she had done since that
Saturday night had produced the slightest reaction other than
"Yes, Mistress." Even "No, Mistress." seemed to have been
purged from his scene vocabulary.
She was so damned frustrated she did not think she could be
held responsible if she heard that reply even one more time.
Justifiable homicide would have to be the verdict of any
honest court in the land. Either that or innocent by reason
of temporary insanity. The damned, stupid *male* was making
her *crazy*.
Christ, she was even thinking about changing her title to
Goddess, Queen, Empress, *Dogcatcher* - *ANY*thing just so she
would not have to hear "yes" and "Mistress" in the same
sentence again anytime soon. She'd gone so far as to almost
order him to say "No, Mistress", - just once - but in the end
she had rejected the idea. He'd have said "Yes, Mistress" to
acknowledge the order.
She looked at the heavy leather paddle in her hand and at the
nicely presented, swat-pinkened buns mooning up at her. For a
brief moment, she thought about just cutting loose and seeing
if she could beat her way past that damned control of his.
But only for a moment. That would serve no good purpose and
would probably make things even worse. She was too good a
Domme to do anything like that.
Besides, she really was exhausted - physically, emotionally
and mentally. Intentionally or not, Gerry had left her
drained after the past two weeks and she just couldn't work up
the will to try even one more thing with him.
Wearily, she dropped the paddle and unsnapped the locked cuffs
on Gerald's ankles and wrists, freeing him from the spanking
block.
"Take off your gag, Gerald." she said, using the name she only
used out of scene. "Go get cleaned up, dress yourself and
meet me in the den in a half hour. I am going to take a soak
in the hot tub and I want to be alone while I do it."
"Yes, Mistress." he responded, and then watched in speechless
shock when Mary flushed furiously and ran from the room
shrieking.
Gerald had started a fire in the den's hearth by the time Mary
arrived. She'd stayed in the tub longer than she'd planned,
but it had been worth it. Most of the negative energy had
been simmered out of her as the most heat of the water had
soaked in.
On seeing her, Gerald began to genuflect. "Thank you,
Gerald." she said quietly. "Now, would you please rise and go
take a seat on the couch. We need a time out, and that means
we are meeting without any exchange of power at this moment."
Nodding, Gerald rose. "Yes, Mistress." he responded, almost
setting Mary off again. She avoided screaming again only
through an incredible effort of will.
"Maybe," she said slowly enunciating each syllable separately
with great calm and precision, "it would be better if you
called me by my given name while we are in time-out mode,
Gerald, as I will refrain from calling you Gerry."
"All right. . . . Mary." the hesitation obvious in his voice.
At an impatient gesture toward the sofa, Gerald sat and then
regarded Mary curiously. "What do you want to discuss?"
Mary sat down in his favorite recliner, now her throne.
"Can't you guess?" she asked sarcastically.
More confused than ever, Gerald could only shake his head.
"Why no, Mist. . . I mean, Mary, I have no idea. One minute
you were working me, the next you are running out of the room
screaming like you were being chased by all the demons of
hell. Is it something I did?"
His blatant sincerity stopped her completely. She wanted to
grab him by the ears and shake some sense into him, but
couldn't. He'd just take it, like he'd been taking everything
else, and would not understand why. "You really don't have
any idea what you have been doing. . . or rather, what you
have *not* been doing, do you?" Now, she shook her head, this
time in wonder. "Gerry, . . I'm sorry, Gerald, do you have
any idea how hard it is to top someone? How much thought and
time and energy that demands from a person if he or she is
going to do it properly and safely?"
"Not that I have ever thought much about it, Mary, but now
that you bring it up, I can see how all that responsibility
and concentration could be pretty hard on the top."
"Well, it is about a hundred times worse when your partner is
playing sponge - soaking up everything you have to give but
not giving back so much as a single damned drop in return.
Christ, Gerald, I haven't gotten one honest, emotional
response out of you since the congregation. Its like you've
wrapped your heart, mind and soul in armor plating. Oh, you
can still feel - physically, anyway. Sometimes you grunt or
even whimper when something gets a little severe or when you
are honestly surprised, but I guess not even you can turn off
your nervous system." The frustration was back in full force
and it required everything she had not give in and lash out at
him in anger.
Gerald sat back on the couch, his eyes staring into the
dancing flames, and for a moment, Mary felt incredibly alone.
It was as if everything but his body had left her - which was
a pretty good description of where they'd been whenever she'd
tried to train him since their early return from the lodge
almost two weeks before.
"Was that scene at the Lodge really so very awful, Gerry?" she
asked with intense feeling, "Now that you've had some time to
put a little distance between yourself and the immediacy of
everything you went through up there? I thought you might
even have been enjoying the play there for a while - at least
you seemed to be enjoying it. Until that last session with
Victor and Beth." she asked softly, her voice entreating, "Did
that stupid game of theirs really make you feel that you need
to protect yourself every moment you are with *me*? Did my
failure to prevent that damned, supposedly-sensual humiliation
scene with another male destroy what trust you still had in
me? Or did it just suck out everything good inside you so
that you really don't have anything left to give back to me
when we scene?"
"Is that what I have been doing? What you think I have been
doing?" he asked tonelessly, his eyes still not meeting hers.
"What I *think* you've been doing, Gerald?" she realized she
was shouting again and tamped down her emotions once again.
"It is what you have been doing. Even in the silly little
just-for-fun, spur-of-the-moment games, you don't play with me
*at all* anymore." She stood and walked around the room for a
few moments, visibly working to calm herself.
Finally, she returned to her seat, sitting on the edge of her
chair and looking at him intensely. "We'd come so far before
last weekend, Gerald. We had begun to rediscover the
childlike joy of our play together again, but now, it is just
work for both of us. Whatever makes up the essential Gerald
is withheld from me. You are merely enduring, dammit, and
that simply is not enough. Not for me or for you. You sure as
hell aren't playing with me. I might as well be playing with
a mobile, talking blowup doll. Although you don't say all
that much lately, either, and dammit, "Yes, Mistress" does not
count."
He thought about that. That final scene at the Mountain Lodge
*had* been hard on him. Very hard. And even after he'd made
it through all the previous stuff, and yes, enjoyed some if
not quite all of the evening's play, then that Victor
character had to come along with his massage demands and his
semen-topped pudding. Memories of that still cut at him like
a dull knife.
The only way he'd gotten through the last hour until Mary had
come for him had been to simply block out everything.
Everything, that is, except the orders. Had to follow the
orders. If he did everything perfectly, at least they
couldn't honestly complain. If he ignored what was going on
around him, it wouldn't matter. He'd been surviving just fine
that way. Then, out of the blue, Mary had come for him and
had taken him straight home that very night.
Now, on reflection, Gerald had to admit that he had been
behaving precisely as Mary had described - what ever it was
that made up "Gerald" had retreated deep inside of himself.
He had hidden his soul where the pointed comments, touches and
pinches could not reach Gerald, only Gerald's body.
Had he carried that over into his relationship with Mary?
Evidently. "I guess that's right." Then he looked at Mary,
really looked at her for the first time in days. "But I don't
really think that's all that much of a problem. In fact, it
is what got me through that."
"DAMMIT, Gerald, that is why I gave you a safe word! So you
can protect yourself! Don't you understand??!? If you need to
hide like that from me, or if you need to hide like that from
something that I have asked you to do, then I. . HAVE . .
.GONE . . TOO . . .DAMNED. . . FAR! And I expect you to
protect yourself! Even from ME!"
"It wasn't hurting me, Mary." Gerald whispered, now uncertain.
"Not really. How could I safe word over some guy ordering me
to give him a massage? On his shoulders and neck, no less?"
Mary lurched to her feet again and spun away from him to stand
in front of the hearth. She was just too tight, she thought,
her control was just too tenuous.
With her back to him, she finally responded. "There is
physical hurt and there are other types of hurt, Gerald. I
agree you were not being hurt physically, but that is not the
point. The physical aspects of what we do, and in particular,
what we did that day at the Lodge, pale in comparison to what
is happening mentally or emotionally, Gerald. Were you past
your limits when you were directed by that Domme to massage
her husband? I suspect you were. More than that, I truly
believe that you knew that you were. Or did you just become a
zombie for the hell of it?"
He thought about it a little more and then sighed. "I guess,
Mary. Maybe. I thought about safe wording - almost did -
twice in fact," he admitted thinking of the tall blond Texan
Mistress and then Victor and Beth when first ordered to do the
massage, "But in the end, I was afraid they'd rule against you
if I did - saying that the use was inappropriate and a
violation of the contract. So, I just stopped letting it
matter." He shrugged. "It worked."
His matter of fact tone destroyed Mary's fingernail grasp on
her temper. "No it DIDN'T! Don't you understand, Gerald.
You are the one in violation of that contract right now - the
way you have been behaving for the past two weeks - far more
then you could ever be by the simple act of safe wording to
end a scene. Why you ask? I will tell you! The contract
says you must submit to me! Well, you haven't been submitting
since you ran from Victor's table and you sure as hell AREN'T
submitting now! You're just absorbing punishment to no
purpose."
"Not submitting? Absorbing punishment to no purpose, Mary?"
Now Gerald was incensed and yelling, "How about that I ceased
to be a danger to anyone around me? How about that I ceased
to be a danger to you!?"
All the anger and rage drained out of Mary in an instant,
leaving her feeling empty and exhausted once more. "No one
was ever in danger, Gerald," she told him sadly. "and you
ought to know that. Every single minute, from the moment you
stepped on to the stage in the afternoon, until I escorted you
back to the slave quarters so you could retrieve your clothes,
there were always three, very strong men on guard within ten
feet from you. You were not a danger to anyone until you
started that zombie bit, and then you became a danger to
yourself."
Mary saw the look of disbelief and consternation on Gerald's
face and smiled weakly. "It's true, Gerald. That type of
behavior does you no good, and in the long run, will probably
do you a great deal of harm. It certainly doesn't do *me* a
damn bit of good. I can't read you when you pull this crap -
I can't tell if I am going too far or not far enough. I might
as well try to beat a rubber mannikin for all the reaction and
feedback you are giving me. Except you're not a lifeless
mannikin and you could - very likely will - get badly hurt."
"Haven't so far." he shrugged diffidently.
Mary shook her head and turned to face him, tears streaming
down her cheeks. "And I will not take the chance that it will
be me who hurts you. Less than an hour ago, I was within a
hair's breadth of trying to beat my way past that icy shield
of emotionless indifference you are wearing around your heart.
I was so frustrated, so angry, so empty inside that I was
ready to do anything, *anything* just to get a single real
expression of feeling from you - even if it was a scream of
agony. I came that close," and she held her thumb and
forefinger together, "To becoming an abuser, and whatever
else comes of this, I won't do that to you or to myself."
"You didn't, and you won't." he replied with quiet certainty.
"Damn right I won't, but I very easily could have done. If I
can't reach you again, like I used to be able to reach you,
before we have to leave for the Lodge the next time, if you
can't find it within you to open yourself back up to me, to
respond to me like you have in the past, then we simply won't
go to the Lodge."
"Of course we are going to go!" Gerald snapped back.
Mary just shook her head. "There is no 'of course' about
this. I won't work with a submissive who can't or won't feel.
I especially will not endanger you, and tonight, whether you
want to admit it or not, you were in danger, my love. I was
swinging that damned heavy paddle - you couldn't get free. I
won't chance that again."
"But you won't hurt me, dammit!"
This time, Mary nodded, her head feeling incredibly heavy with
emotional, physical and mental exhaustion. "You've got that
right, Gerald." she agreed again. "Let me tell you what you
and I are going to do. I am going to get a very large brandy
and go to bed. You are free for the remainder of the night.
Watch television, go for a walk, get drunk, whatever. I hope
you will think about what I've just said, but I am not going
to order it because I can't order something like that. It's
something you have to do for yourself. In any case, tomorrow
evening, we will try to play again. If you can play then, or
at least, play like some reasonable semblance of your old
self, we will continue. If not, we will quit again, and try
again the next night."
"And if you don't get what you say you want from me?"
"If you cannot open yourself to me again by the Thursday
immediately prior the Congregation, then I will call Gemma and
default on the contract."
Furious, Gerald stormed over to stand in front of her, every
muscle in his body rigid. "You can't *do* that!"
Mary went up on tiptoe and kissed his tension-hardened lips.
"Oh, but I can, dear heart. It takes at least two to play,
darling, and at least two to make a contract. However it only
takes one to walk away and it only takes one to break a
contract. If that is what I must do to protect you from
yourself, darling, I will. I love you too much to permit this
to go on and possibly go tragically too far. Good night,
Gerald."
She turned and walked slowly towards the stairs, but stopped
at the last moment. "One thing you might consider, Gerry, if
you do spend some time tonight thinking about what I've just
said. That little outburst of yours was the first real
emotion you've given me in over a week, and sadly enough, it
was anger. Anger for me, I will admit, but anger nonetheless.
Is that really all you have left for me? Is that the legacy
of that damned Congregation scene? I hope not, my love. I
sincerely hope not."
And with that parting shot she was gone, leaving a heavily
breathing Gerald staring after her. "Me, too, Mary. Me too."
At a loss about what to do next, Gerald turned to look around
his den. The wet bar beckoned him and he poured himself a
double shot of single malt scotch. Getting drunk had a real
appeal just then, but he couldn't do it. Sighing softly, he
carefully poured the whiskey back into the bottle and walked
away. He had a lot of things to work out in his head, and he
couldn't do that with an whiskey fumes deadening his brain
cells. Maybe he would take that walk.
End Part 19
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