Meter Level One - Establishing A Base Line!
As far as I was concerned she was a pseudo submissive. She played at being a sub’, and
probably was to an extent, but only when she was calling the shots. I figured her out
within the first couple of play sessions we did and knew she was constantly guiding the
scene to her own advantage and topping me from the bottom.
I was too much of a professional not to be a little disgusted with myself that I
continued to allow her to get away with her games but, let’s be honest, Amanda was very
well off so I bided my time. Once I understood what she was doing I played along with
her, until a few very healthy fees plus substantial bonuses were deposited in my bank,
before deciding it was time to bring Amanda into the realm of my reality.
Mentally gritting my teeth I allowed things to continue for those few weeks with her
getting off multiple times, never less than two or three, every session and me not even
getting close to approaching my Domme space let alone getting any sexual satisfaction from
the process. Then when a suitable opportunity presented itself that I could not ignore I
made my move.
Amanda was now hooked on the fact that I knew her likes and dislikes so well I could
bring her off those several times in a session. Sure, I knew she almost made it a hobby
to screw any stud she ran across and liked the look of and, in fact, after our first
couple of sessions, when I realized just how promiscuous she was, I told her to stay away
until she could bring me a doctor’s report showing a clean bill of health and no STD’s.
She stayed away in an injured huff for two weeks but then phoned for an appointment and
brought a copy of her checkup report. She couldn’t stay away because I was the one who
knew all the delicate nuances that turned her on and could play her body like a violin.
As a professional Domme, and a practicing lesbian, they were almost second nature to me.
The ‘slam bam thank you ma`am’ quickies Amanda constantly tried with the male studs and
any female with dollar signs in their eyes just couldn’t compete. So she turned to me,
cash in hand, when she needed my expertise to get to that magical zone called
satisfaction.
Gradually I dropped hints suggesting we needed an extended time period to really find out
what we could do together and, just as gradually, she started to come around to the idea.
Finally, as I kept her hanging on the edge for about the third time, towards the end of a
play period, she told me the plan she had worked out. Amanda would let all her friends
and acquaintances (there was no family) know she was going away for two months to the
Greek islands. The idea was that she would not even be answering her cell phone because
she needed to get away and just relax and plan where she was going with her life.
Call it a sort of an introspection and meditation time out from life. Of course, anyone
who knew her would automatically assume she had a new stud she wanted to keep to herself
while she wore him out. I let her get off with another massive orgasm and tried to hide
the grin on my face.
A few days later her private jet left the local airport and flew to the small Greek
island supposedly with her on board; then it left on route to a French airport’s
maintenance hanger for a complete overhaul.
UPS delivered several large boxes to my house the same day. Her Ladyship needed her
wardrobe and the finer things in life. Later that morning Amanda arrived in a taxi after
taking a roundabout route to my country estate. After pressing the button to open the
security gate I watched as she paid off the cabbie.
Yet again she was trying to pull my strings by wearing a jogging suit, an expensive
designer one to be sure, and tennis shoes with her blonde hair hidden under a soft cap.
She knew how much I hated such casual clothes when we were supposedly Domme and
submissive. They seriously lacked showing me the respect I deserved.
This time though I had anticipated the ploy and was one up on her by wearing my own
comfortable sweat suit. My hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and I wore very
little makeup; hardly Domme mode clothing.
I led her through the house to the room she was so familiar with but then kept going
towards the far wall and the ubiquitous bookcase (isn’t it always behind a bookcase?) and
opened the hidden door to my real dungeon.
“Since we are going to have so much time together Amanda I thought we should introduce
you to my private workplace.”
“Why haven’t I been in here before? I pay you enough and yet you’ve been holding out on
me. Look at all the equipment you have; is that a real set of stocks?”
“You haven’t been here before because you weren’t ready to enjoy my special toys Amanda,
but we have months now to explore your limits.”
Still trying to top from the bottom she walked over to the table holding my stocks and
grinned back at me as she said: “Are these real? Would you let me try them and maybe you
could tickle my feet? Then when I’ve had enough I could just ask you nicely to stop.” Her
whole manner suggested an innocent that did not understand what was going on, beyond a
simple game. A game she thought she understood and even controlled.
What was it the spider said to the fly? Oh yes come into my parlor!
The stocks looked simple but in fact had several special features that I would use to
start teaching her some very well deserved lessons. In the first place, unlike the usual
stand up stocks configuration with the wrists held on either side of the head by a hinged
top piece, mine held the ‘victim’ seated with their ankles to the outside of their
wrists.
It was also made from a single piece of one and a half inch wood that was three feet long
and fifteen inches deep. Four V shaped wedges had been cut down from the top and, at the
bottom of the V’s, openings had been carved out and padded to fit ankles and wrists. The
points of the wedges were shaped and padded to fit down on top of the limbs and could be
locked in place individually.
The stocks were held in position at one end of the platform or table by adjustable
brackets and the legs of the table itself were locked in place with special floor clamps.
Around the entire perimeter of the padded surface were metal anchor rings set in every
three inches.
“Well, you still have to unpack your luggage and get things arranged in the guest room
I’ve prepared for you but maybe we could take just a few minutes to let you try them.”
I could hardly contain my smile and hold on to a semblance of the Domme face she was so
used to seeing.
“Climb up on the table and we will see how things go.”
The rubber padded table the stocks were mounted on was about three feet high and almost
seven feet long. Amanda quickly climbed on to it and settled her ankles into the two half
moon shaped spaces that were roughly twenty four inches apart. Then she rested back on
her hands and watched as I fitted the wooden wedges in place over each ankle and the used
side locks to hold them in place.
“Let’s have some fun Amanda, how long is it since your latest roll in the hay?”
She looked down for a moment then back to me and said “Three days ago but he wasn’t very
good and left me so horny I haven’t slept much. Even my vibrator didn’t help.”
“Well then just lay back and I’ll see what I can do to ease your situation.”
As soon as she was flat on the table I used a couple of straps to clamp each wrist to the
sides and another across her throat so that she instantly became completely helpless.
Standing beside the table on her right side I pulled the cap off her head releasing her
shoulder length hair then I leaned down to bring my lips to her mouth. As we kissed my
right hand found the tab of the zipper closing her designer top, pulled down on it and
then peeled the soft fabric towards the sides of her chest. At twenty eight she had a
magnificent body, almost perfectly proportioned for her height of five foot seven.
The kisses got even more intense with our tongues probing each other’s mouth. Using both
hands I had no trouble releasing the front closure of her dainty bra then pulling the cups
out of the way. Without stopping the lip lock I used thumbs and forefingers to pinch and
tease her nipples getting an immediate reaction.
There was a low moan coming from her throat as I straightened up and moved away from the
table. Quickly I rolled a small table to a spot behind her head where I could see the
three small screens on the equipment it held. Taking three small items off the table I
re-engaged the lip lock before she started to complain. Gently I pressed one of the items
against her chest between her breasts; it was less than one inch square and very thin.
Another one went just beside it and then, by feel, I reached over and stuck the last one
to the inside of her left wrist just above the strap holding it against the table.
From a small shelf under the platform I took a tight latex glove, pulled it onto my right
hand then slid it under the waistband of her suit and inside her panties to let my fingers
find her love nub and the opening below it. Even through the latex it was easy to tell
she was already wet and, as I manipulated my fingers, her body arched as much as it could
to push against them.
Amanda’s eyes were closed and I glanced past her head to see the needles moving on the
screens and three narrow ribbons of paper quietly rolling out of slots under each screen.
That showed me the micro chip transmitters I had stuck on her were working just fine and I
concentrated on bringing the girl up to the point were she was ready to explode.
Covering her mouth with mine I got my tongue working again in her mouth, my left hand
caressing then squeezing her breasts and pinching at her nipples and the gloved right hand
finding every sensitive spot in her vagina. It took less than five minutes before I
judged she was ready and I pushed three latex covered fingers deep inside her and worked
my thumb against her clitoris. At the same instant I moved my mouth down to her left
breast and took the turgid nipple between my teeth while my left hand clamped on the right
one.
Over she went; the scream seemed to come from her knees it was so full of emotion, every
muscle went rigid and then Amanda’s entire body went limp. As her breathing began to
settle I released the straps holding her wrists.
Sliding my arm under her shoulders I told the silly bitch to sit up and, taking her right
hand, pulled it forwards so I could fit her right wrist in a smaller slot at the middle of
the stocks then slide another wedge down to lock it in place. The left wrist received
similar treatment and she was helpless again with her hands held separately in their
rubber padded clamps but almost touching palm to palm.
Instead of the usual unwieldy single top bar my stocks locked in each limb separately,
which made them much easier to handle.
Amanda was still breathing heavily but looked a bit surprised when I took some thin cord
and knotted it around the bases of her forefingers and then took a couple more turns
around her thumbs before wrapping the rest tightly around her wrists and tying it off.
There was no way she could have pulled her ankles out of the stocks but with the wrists
there was always a possibility of them sliding out no matter how tight the clamp was; the
cord was just insurance.
“Now you think about what just happened while I go and change into something much more
suitable for the occasion.”
She looked at me blankly then pulled uselessly at her limbs locked in the stocks and
started to say something but I was already out the door.
Amanda was not gagged so I was not worried about leaving her alone while I took my time
to shower, do my hair and get dressed in one of my favorite outfits.
Her eyes widened as I opened the door and stood there for a moment so she could get the
full effect. The supple black leather cat suit moulded snugly to my body from neck to
wrists and down to my ankles underneath the knee high laced boots with four inch stiletto
heels.
The make up was almost exotic and my hair pulled to one side so it flowed over my left
shoulder almost to the three inch belt buckled tightly around my waist. Hanging from the
belt were, on one side, my favorite flogger and the other a riding crop. Tucked in the
belt was a pair of long black leather gloves.
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