Message-ID: <19655eli$9902040443@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: [New Stories] Protecting the Mistress (23/31) (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: <36c3fa7f.9883071@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 23: Not a Perambulation in the Park Mary silently cursed herself, the contract and the whole damned Cabal as she watched Gerald sleeping fitfully on the floor at the foot of her bed. Gerald had told her, hell, damn near ordered her to take him to the Lodge and to go through with the Council-mandated scene. He promised that he would handle it. She could only hope that he was correct, because she knew he was incapable of conceiving what was really in store for him this weekend. Of course, he might surprise her and avoid the third part of the planned three part scenario, but she didn't think so. None of the other three subs she'd played this evil little game out with had been able to hold out - not even the one who'd known what was coming because he had witnessed her conducting the exercise with one of the other two. She looked at the clock, and sighed. Freda would be arriving shortly to take him away. She'd been the one selected to prepare him for the afternoon's demonstration. Poor darling, she thought sadly. If only Gemma hadn't been so insistent about this one. If only she had picked someone less . . . Mary wanted to say nasty, but that wasn't quite the correct term, but it was close. Couldn't Gemma have picked a Domme with little more compassionate play-style than Freda? Some subs really loved Freda, but others avoided her like the plague. Mary knew of one particular, fairly experienced, deep playing submissive who always checked ahead to find out if Freda had a reservation before he'd even attend one of the "all subs submit to all dominants" weekends. Freda was strict, perhaps even severe, and in her heart of hearts, Mary knew that Gerald was not one of the subs who would blossom under Freda's darkly demanding style of dominance. Abandoning her expected role, Mary knelt beside her slave and gently shook him awake. She wished she had kept him in her bed last night, but she'd been concerned they might oversleep or that Freda would arrive early. She didn't dare take the chance of making things worse by flouting those codes of conduct again. "Good morning, my love," she whispered before kissing him softly on the mouth. "It is time for you to get up." Gerald rose only to his knees, and then bowed low, touching his forehead to the floor. Mary unlocked the sleeping chain from his collar and attached his leash before rising to her feet. "Gerry? In a few minutes, Governess Freda will be here to take you off to be prepared for this afternoon. Taken alone, these preparations will be very extensive and very demanding for you. I expect you to do your best." "Yes, Mistress," he responded, feeling the knot of anxiety in his gut double in size. "I know you will, Gerry," she said warmly, "But then, you always do. However, that is not what I meant to say. Yes, I expect your best but, I also expect . . . no, make that I *insist* that you safe word if you feel you need to do so, especially if you would have done so without the specter of this contract hanging over our heads. I want you to promise, no, even more than that, I want your word of honor that you *will* stop the scene if appropriate, regardless of what you feel the implications might be for me here at the Cabal." Mary held his chin, her eyes boring into Gerald's, and she saw him hesitate. "If I do not have your word of honor, Gerry, *right now*, I will call off the scene myself and we will be on our way home within the hour," she said with awful finality. Gerald still held back, unwilling to make such a promise. "You can't be serious, Mistress" Gerry countered hopefully. It was really a question. Mary rose and picked up the phone from the bedside table. "Gerry, if I do not hear the words "I give you my word, Mary," from you in the next fifteen seconds, this is all over and we are out of here." She began to punch the numbers on the handset's keypad. Gerald's resistance deflated. "I give you my word, Mary, that I will not consider your continued membership in the Cabal in my safe word decisions." An imperious knock on the door interrupted whatever response Mary had intended. "Come," she called out. The door opened to admit a tall, powerfully built woman wearing a long, Victorian style, bustled dress of unrelieved black silk. Gerald thought she looked like Mary Poppins on a day when she wasn't "practically perfect in every way." Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun at the back of her head, a perky black box hat perched jauntily on her head with a netted veil shielding her eyes. Her scarlet lips were sternly set as she gave Gerald's nude form a slow, arrogantly thorough perusal. A long, thin rattan cane beat a staccato rhythm against very high-heeled button-down ankle boots. Obviously, this woman was "Governess" Freda. Gerald disliked her on first sight. "This is the demonstration slave?" she demanded in a sharply imperious voice. "Yes." Mary answered equably. "This is my slave, Gerry." "Well, we have much to do before the open demonstration, Mistress Mary. With your permission?" Her words were more demand than request, but Mary simply nodded, and offered her the leash. "Go with the Governess, Gerry. Be a good boy and do exactly as she says. I will see you later on today." Freda snatched the leash from Mary's hand and gave it a sharp, painful tug, pulling Gerald off balance. "Oh, he'll be a good boy, darling." Freda smirked. "Or else he will be a very unhappy boy, and he will still get to the demonstration just the same." She turned to leave and then stopped. "Perhaps, Mistress, it might save some time if you would give me your slave's dormitory receipt? If he safe words out of this, the Council wants him off the grounds as quickly as possible, and that will permit me to deliver him to you ready to depart." Mary did not like that idea one bit, but it was consistent with what Gemma told her was the plan for this afternoon. Mary left the sitting room and then returned moments later carrying the yellow carbon copy of the receipt for Gerald's private effects. Freda pocketed the offering and then turned back to the door. "Come with me, boy," she ordered with another sharp tug. Gerald started to rise and was given a stinging slash of the cane across the fronts of his thighs. "I did not tell you to stand, little boy, only to follow," she said coldly. "That means stay on your bony little knees and crawl." She tossed a malevolent grin back at Mary. "Might as well start getting him into his new role right from the start." Shaken, Gerry began to crawl behind the rapidly striding dominant. Mary closed her eyes, trying to block out that picture, but not before she saw the look of resignation on her slave-lover's face. It made her want to weep. ~---------------~ A working party comprised of every able bodied submissive at the Lodge had arranged the main building's Great Hall into the "Dinner Theater" layout. Small, intimate table groupings were arrayed in a semicircle about the round, elevated stage. A low rumble filled the room as the guests made small talk with other members seated at the same table. The "house" was packed, and Mary was certain that anyone who was not required by their duties to be elsewhere was out there waiting. Hell, she thought in exasperation, every active member of the whole bloody Cabal must be here today. Mary's heart was thudding heavily in her chest. This brainstorm of Gemma's just kept getting worse by the minute. Gerald hated public humiliation scenes. Going along with them, fighting through them, enduring them, had always been one of his extra special gifts to her. A gift made all the more treasured because she knew just how difficult such play was for him. This type of scene gave him nothing in return for what it pulled out of him. His only reward was the purely extrinsic pleasure of knowing how much his willing compliance pleased her. And the script Gemma had specified for today was easily the heaviest, pure-humiliation scene that Mary had in her arsenal. She'd never put anyone through this scene who wasn't *very* deeply into humiliation play. She'd certainly never considered playing it out with and to Gerald. Not only that, just about every member was going to watch him suffering through it. They would cheer her as she drove him further and further, and they would jeer him. Not that they'd really mean their little taunts and jibes - they simply would not believe anyone would willingly tolerate what she'd planned for this afternoon's demonstration without being into that type of play. The generally good natured banter would just be their way of joining in the scene, of trying to help tease the submissive deeper into his humiliation-derived sub-space. In their own way, they'd be trying to make the entire experience better for her slave-lover. However, Gerald would never see their participation in that light. Peeking out from behind the stage curtain one last time, Mary could see the anticipation on their faces. DAMN! "How had they known?" She fumed to herself. Even assuming that all of them had been at the Lodge, why were they here? There had been almost the same number of members on site last time as there were for this weekend, but nothing like this many people had attended that first demonstration. Freda, she realized, it had to be Freda. Besides herself, only Gemma and Freda had known what was planned, and she trusted Gemma implicitly. DAMN the woman! The room went suddenly silent and Mary saw the reason. A tall, incredibly regal form was making her way to the center of the impromptu stage. Almost six and a half feet of elegantly beautiful black woman, turned out in a finely tailored, form-fitting black tuxedo complete to the ruffled white shirt and the black velvet bow-tie, smiled out over the assembled membership. "Welcome to the second exhibition by Mistress Mary Jones working her slave Gerald. Today's demonstration is one of erotic humiliation. I give you Mistress Mary." A smattering of polite applause and a general air of excited anticipation answered Gemma's introduction. Mary gulped down a last, deep cleansing breath, closed her eyes, and then took that critical first step out onto the stage. Conscious of the importance of presentation, Mary moved about the stage like a model showing off the latest fashion, giving everyone in the audience a chance to appreciate her costume. It was a sight well worth appreciating. She wore a blue silk dress, designed to duplicate the cut and fit of a 1950's house dress. Black patent leather pumps and black, seamed stockings completed her outfit. She'd even done up her hair and brightly hued cosmetics in styles straight out of a 1950's issue of Redbook Magazine. She bore a striking resemblance to the television show's Donna Reed, except for three little facts. The dress fit her like a second skin, there was obviously nothing between her and the dress, and her high heeled pumps were well over five inches tall. This Donna would *never* have passed the purity test of the old television censorship board. No sense delaying the inevitable, she told herself grimly, and then gestured for the next grand entrance. The main curtain behind her parted to reveal Freda pushing what appeared to be a huge baby perambulator before her. Which is exactly what it was. Almost. Freda positioned the pram center-stage, its long side toward the audience, and then moved off to one side of the stage to wait and to watch. Mary made a theatrical approach to the baby carriage, feeling almost like a magician's assistant about to open the "lady- sawed-in-half" box. As she passed the push handles, she fingered a small, hidden switch. Electronic locks on each corner of the pram released, whereupon gravity took over. All four sides immediately fell away to reveal Gerald. A murmur of surprise was followed by ripples of amused laughter filled the room as the assembled membership took in just what had been done to her submissive. Mary did not need to look. She knew precisely what the others saw. After all, she'd designed both the baby carriage and the special bondage restraints. Surprisingly, Gerald was not actually bound to the carriage. That was because such additional restraint was unnecessary - he wasn't going anywhere very soon. Strong, inch and a half wide nylon web cuffs were cinched tightly to his upper arms, wrists, waist, throat, thighs and ankles. Bungee cords connected his upper arms to his waist and to the respective wrist which were, in turn, similarly attached to the neck collar. His thigh cuffs were bound, again via bungee cords, to the ankle bands. His hands were fitted into flesh toned, very stiff, fingerless gloves that eliminated most of his manual dexterity. The bondage was deceptively strict. Although the flexible bungee cords permitted him some freedom of movement, it was mostly illusory. He could not control or move any of his extremities to any real degree. Even if he could have gotten down from the carriage without hurting himself, there was no way he could have stood on his two feet, much less walked. With a great deal of effort, he might have been able to crawl, but not very far before his muscles wearied from the constant fight against the strong bungee cords. Gerald had been effectively reduced to the mobility and physical self control of an infant. A large diameter ring gag to deprive him of understandable speech and a pink latex baby bonnet completed his ensemble. Mary finally turned to face her subject and began to examine him dispassionately. Freda had decided to dispense with the diaper, but whatever body hair that had grown back since the previous month's demonstration had again been removed. The reddish tinge to Gerald's skin was probably more the result of a very strong depilatory than embarrassment, although that emotion was there, too. The nipple of a ridiculously large baby bottle had been pushed through the open center of Gerald's ring gag. She could see the fluid level in the two-quart bottle slowly but steadily going down. Gerald had no choice but to swallow the fluid as it steadily trickled into his mouth. Water with a little vinegar to act as a mild diuretic, Mary knew, and this was not the first nor likely even only the second such bottle he'd been forced to drink in the past three hours. Finally, she looked at his face, and had to steel herself not to look away or to flinch. He looked so diminished laying there. More than that, he had to be, at the very minimum, extremely uncomfortable because Mary was sure he had not been permitted to empty his bladder since she'd wakened him. But more than that, it was the hurt she saw in his eyes that made her want to call this whole damned thing off. Only the fact that he had an electronic "red-light" panic button within easy reach to signal he was safe wording gave her the strength to continue. Gerald could press that button whenever, or if ever he reached his limits. Depressing that switch would cause a red light bulb on the pram to flash on, whereupon she or Freda would end the scene and release him from his bonds. A ripple of impatience moved through the watchers. She had to get on with it if she was going to do it at all. She moved behind the carriage and pulled the still leaking nipple from his mouth. Theatrically, she tickled him under his chin and cooed at him in baby talk. "So, is Mama's little snookums all full?" she asked as her other hand slipped down to grip his semi-hard manhood. "My, but aren't you a big boy . . . well, for a baby, anyway." The snidely delivered comment drew an appreciative laugh from her audience. Mary moved off stage for a moment, returning pushing a white enameled cart similar to what might be used in a hospital . . . or in a nursery. Earlier, she'd laid out the toys she would need for this script onto the cart. There were feathers for tickling, a variety of corporal punishment tools, some surgical and nipple clamps among other toys, and a large, old fashioned, sand-filled hourglass. Mary picked up a long- plumed feather and moved back to her "infant." Gerald nearly jumped off the carriage when Mary stroked the feather down the underside of his cock and around his scrotum. "I bet that my little baby wants to know what Mommy has planned for her little sweetie, doesn't he?" she singsonged at him. When he didn't react, she chucked him underneath his chin. "Aw c'mon, sweetie, aren't you just a little curious?" Mary realized that he was absolutely furious. Well, she had warned him and he did have the panic button she told herself. "Well, let me tell you anyway, baby-boy. We are going to do some potty training so you can prove to all of us here watching you that you are a big boy and not just a baby. Doesn't that sound like fun?" In a pig's eye, his eyes yelled at her. No one else "heard" that, so Mary doggedly continued with her script. "All you have to do is not do your pee-pee for the next two hours," and here she held up the hourglass, "Just two times through this without wetting yourself means you are a big boy who gets to be a grownup for the rest of the weekend." She stroked the feather along his balls again and watched him go rigid. "But if you aren't a big boy, and go wee-wee before the end of the two hours? Well, then you must still be a baby, so you'll spend the rest of the weekend in the nursery with Nanny Freda." Gerald closed his eyes. Mary gripped his penis and stroked it slowly, making his eyes snap back open and lock on her. "Of course, if this little thing actually orgasms before you wet yourself, then you must be a big boy. So, all you have to do to get free, lovey, is either hold your water for two hours, or empty your balls before you empty your bladder." She bent over and pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered, "Good luck, sweetheart. I love you." Standing erect once more, Mary reinserted the bottle's nipple into the ring gag, flipped the hourglass before reaching onto the cart for her first toy. "Nanny Freda," she called. "If you would be so good as to assist me, please?" End Part 23 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----