Message-ID: <19609eli$9902030435@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (19/31) (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: <36becd36.3779061@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 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 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----