fs02: A Domme’s View – Arc 1 – Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I open the door and hit the switch. The lights illuminate the hall. Leo, the cat, rushes to greet me, purring loudly as he rubs up against my legs. I let out a small sigh. This wasn’t the type of male greeting that I had hoped for when I started on this path four years ago. I set down my purse and slide out of the cashmere coat before hanging it in the closet.

I grab my shoes and head upstairs. I enjoy my job and I’m quite good at it. There are days though, where I just can’t wait to get home. I can’t wait to get out of this suit. One of the downsides of compartmentalizing is that when I neglect one part of myself, I start feeling like the other parts are fake. If this goes on for long enough, my professional persona begins to feel absolutely stifling. It has been too long since I scratched the itch.

I change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. A smile crawls over my face knowing this is temporary. Tonight will be a late night. I will have plenty of time to get ready. I pick up my phone and grab my laptop from the nightstand. I feel giddy. It’s the monthly fetish night at the Cat’s Eye Club.

In the kitchen I fire up the computer and begin gathering the ingredients. I can’t wait until I have someone who will cook for me. And serve the food to me. And do the dishes. Patience, Wanda. I get the chicken breast and veggies cooking and open a browser to my kinklife account. 729 messages.

I begin the process, stopping every so often to turn the chicken and stir the veggies. Cock shot. Cock shot. Cock shot. Insult. Cock shot. Cock shot. Threat. Ab shot. Cock shot. Ab shot. Is this English? Insult. Interesting. A submissive woman. I think women are pretty but I’m not sexually interested in them. But they are often so kind and friendly. I can tell she read my profile and put thought into her message. I give the chicken another quick turn before responding.

“Thank you very much for the inquiry. I’m very flattered that you have taken an interest in me and you seem like a very lovely woman. I am not really looking for a woman sub at this time, but I would be very open to being friends with you if you are interested. Please send me a friend request if you would like to get to know each other better. I hope to hear from you soon. Xoxo.”

Cock shot. Cock shot. Intelligible. Abs and cock. A two-fer. Threat. Cock shot. The aroma of the food makes my mouth water. I quickly transfer it to a plate and wish that I had two more arms. I move the laptop to the nook and trudge back for the food. I grab one of those over-priced and under-flavored mass produced coffee drinks from the fridge.

You might think that the cock shots might ruin my appetite. The truth is, you build up a tolerance to it. I remember early on getting all offended and grossed out like a prude. I accept it as part of the game. I know some women will just mass delete messages if they get behind. I refuse to do that. You never know when that special sub will write you the perfect message. The trick is that you just have to be extremely efficient in screening. You learn to appreciate the cock shots because you don’t even have to read the message. They are the ultimate filter.

I cut the chicken and veggies into small pieces so that I can continue my work undisturbed. If I’m lucky, I will finish them all before I finish eating. If I let them back up, I’ll have well over a thousand tomorrow. 50 cock shots later, I pause. Complete sentences. Check. Proper grammar and spelling. Check. Displays knowledge only obtainable by reading my profile. Check. Local. Check. A few years older than me. File under: maybe.

A trick I learned early on is to click block sender before deleting the message, otherwise the same assholes will keep bombarding you. You would think that this would gradually decrease the messages to dig through over time. Funny how things don’t work quite how you think they will. I finish filtering with two bites left. Five maybes in addition to the one woman. I’m jaded, but I try not to be too jaded. Any maybes give me hope… and the occasional play partner or friend.

I met Robert this way very early on. It was clear to him early on that we were incompatible for D/s. We liked a lot of the same things and we stayed friends. He’s my platonic buddy that I can vent to and hit the occasional movie with so I don’t feel all alone. I trust him. I like that he encourages me to steer the course while still remaining grounded enough to tell me that the type of sub I am searching for is rare. When he tells me that, it doesn’t feel like wishful thinking. Without him, I probably would have settled a long time ago.

But I digress. I check my phone and find a smattering of notifications. One of them is from Mom. She posted a childhood picture of me in my Wonderous Woman costume on Phasebook. I’m posing with my arms crossed in an X in front of me. The old me would have been mortified. The new me smiles. I blush a little as I place the memory. I enlarge the picture and zoom in. In the corner, out of focus, I can just barely see it… Fred (Freddie back then) tied to the chair. A wide grin spreads over my face. The game that never got old. Well, for me. Those were happy days. I sort of wonder what happened to him. I quickly type a reply to my mother thanking her for the memory. It’s time for me to get ready.

I lose focus briefly with a random thought. I quick go back to kinklife and open my profile. At the top I edit.

“Any males who wish to contact me about potential submission or friendship must put the following in the subject: onomatopoeia. Failure to do so will result in being blocked and your message will be deleted without being read.”

I click update. A sly grin creeps over my face as I fantasize about how much time I just saved myself each day. I close the laptop and put it under my arm.

Let me just say that I love fetish night at the Cat’s Eye Club. I love it. I don’t go there to meet anyone or have the hope of picking anyone up. I just like being surrounded by people that are… like me. Professional by day. Domme by night. It’s a feeling that I can’t really describe, but if I had to put a word on it, I would have to say, belonging.

I try to make the most of it. I lay out a couple of sets of lingerie. I bite my lip and let my knees fidget as my mind races over the thought of wearing each set. I settle on a red bustier with matching lace panties and black thigh high stockings and garters. I slip out of my sweats and t-shirt and dress myself. A quick peek in the mirror. A quick adjustment of the cleavage. I pose with my hands on my hips. I would want to fuck me. I laugh to myself. I can’t remember ever feeling this confident before I chose this life.

I check my hair. I keep it shoulder length and easy to manage. A few sprays should make it shine. I shaved this morning so I should be good on that front.

I sit in front of the mirror and do my make-up. No point in going overboard. The club is barely lit. I settle in with a bit of blush. I color my lips a deep shade of red. A bit of eyeliner, mascara, and eye shadow. I want my eyes to mesmerize. Yes, I’m kind of a dork sometimes.

Clothes take me the longest. I try to go for a mix of sexy, not too slutty, but also functional. I quickly check the weather on my report. Damn, it’s cold. Single digits. It was supposed to be warmer today. Skirt? Pants? Skirt? Pants? I’ve been on kind of a skirt kick lately. I think I would rather wear pants if I have to walk from my car in 5 degree weather. Pants it is. I choose a pair of simple black leather ones. I take a long sleeve crimson silk blouse off of the hanger and hold it up. It’s shiny and should do well under the limited lights. I also like how it makes my chest look. If I’m going to wear a bustier, I may as well take advantage of it. I button it up to my cleavage. One more button. Leave some for the imagination? Or put them on display? Let’s make them work for it. I go one more button. I finish with some knee high leather boots.

It’s going to be cold and I don’t really like touching things in the club. I take a pair of black leather gloves that extend a few inches past the wrist. I tuck them under the cuffs of the blouse. I’m glad I bought the set with the touch screen pads or they would be a huge inconvenience. My jewelry on fetish night is always the same. I always wear a matching set that I received as a gift from one of my early subs. It’s a silver necklace, bracelet, and earrings that are in the shape of the symbol for Goddess. It feels kind of silly, but it’s a tradition and I can get into the spirit of it. A quick spritz of perfume into the air and done.

Another check in the mirror. I’m smoking hot. I giggle at the thought but I love that I have the confidence. I check the time. I have plenty of time. I open back up my laptop and block and delete the 15 new messages from men who put the wrong subject line. I quickly scan over the maybes. I eliminate three of them based on their profiles. They are looking for something else and they are not what I seek. I quickly type up a polite response to each of them, letting them know that I appreciate their interest and wish them luck in their search. I smile at the notification that the woman has approved my friend request. She is local. I’m always on the hunt for kinky coffee buds.

Time to leave. I head downstairs and open the closet. I was planning on wearing my long leather coat but the weather change has me second guessing that choice. It’s not particularly warm. I want something that will keep my tush warm but while wearing pants, I would like to show off my legs a little. I chuckle again. My legs aren’t very long or shapely but the new me knows that I’m sexy. I pull my silver fox stroller from the hanger and slide it on. If I wear this I will be warm, but I won’t be able to check my coat and I will end up wearing it all night. 5 degrees. Done. I close its clasps, grab my purse, and moments later I’m on my way.

One of the downsides of being fashionably late is that finding parking is an unforgiving bitch. I manage to find a spot in a lot 3 blocks away. A gust of wind blows, letting me know that I made the right choice in dressing for warmth. If it stays this cold, I may have to invest in some head-wear that will go with this ensemble. I walk briskly through the cold night air. My breath dissipates in clouds and I watch it swirl up in random directions and fade away. My excitement keeps me from freezing.

As I reach the block that the club resides on, I remember one of the reasons that I love this club so much. It’s sexist. I walk down the velvet rope and the 40 shivering bodies behind it. That is the line for accompanied men. They have to pay a steep cover charge. On the near side is the women’s line. Although to call it a line isn’t quite accurate. There isn’t one. You might think that the owner is some sleazy old guy who wants a lot of women to make the club popular. It’s actually owned by a woman in her early 40’s that wanted a place where women would feel safe. A woman who arrives before her companion can even put them on a list that allows him to enter without the line.

I do a double take when the bouncer asks for my ID. I hand it to him and watch him blush. He’s smart enough not to say anything. I blow him a kiss and watch his face burn up and a wide grin form across his face.

My first time going to fetish night had me terrified. I didn’t know what to expect. I was worried people would think I was a phony. I was worried I would be surrounded by freaks. I don’t know why I was afraid. The unknown, perhaps? Now I absolutely love it. I don’t really talk to anyone. I don’t really do anything. I just enjoy the atmosphere. I enjoy the eclectic mix of people. You see everything from business suits to latex catsuits. I have come to respect the people who can put it all out there. I envy their enthusiasm.

I enter the club and open my coat, happy to be in the warmth. I wide smile forms across my face. I’m home. I find an opening at the end of the bar and turn to survey the room. The dim lights. The flickering strobes. The cross on the stage. It’s pretty busy tonight. The bouncers keep the crowd at a comfortable level. Once the night gets rolling, a lot of the men end up standing in line for hours. I would feel bad for them freezing outside, but I just think of my inbox. I wonder how many of those assholes have sent me cock shots. Let them freeze.

I suppose you could say that I’m a people watcher. I love to watch the beautiful young Dommes and subs. I enjoy the carefully crafted flamboyance of the pros. I watch the ladies leading beautiful boys around on leashes. One day, I will have my own. My happy thought is interrupted by a voice.

“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Are you hitting on me?”

I respond in monotone. I keep a serious face long enough to watch him get flustered and stutter. I crack a grin and he relaxes. My self-esteem gladly accepts his gift of an ego boost. I respond to break the ice. I want to see what honesty yields.

“I’m not really here looking to meet anyone. Get me a drink and I will talk to you for five minutes. Vodka tonic.”

If I didn’t know better, I would think his shoes had springs hidden in the bottoms. He returns quickly with the drink in hand and passes it to me.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome and thank you for the pleasure. I’m David.”
“Hello, David.”
“And you are?”
“Someone who doesn’t give her name to strangers at the bar.”
“Fair enough.”
“You have four minutes. Impress me.”

I really enjoy the bitch act. I get a charge every time I do it. Thankfully I’ve learned how to keep a straight face. He gets flustered again, cheeks blushing. He runs his hand through his thick black hair. He’s a well-built Asian man dressed in ‘business casual’ clothes. I would venture a guess at his age, but if you can tell an Asian’s age by looking at them, you are more skilled than I am.

“You have to lighten up, David. I don’t bite… strangers.”
He laughs at my joke. His eyes tell me that he’s intently interested in me.

“I just have to say that you are the most beautiful woman here.”
“That’s all? Well thank you, David. I appreciate the drink and the compliment.”

I turn, pretending like I am leaving.
“No no wait wait wait. Please wait. You are the most beautiful woman here. I don’t usually talk to anyone on these nights, but I knew if I didn’t say something that I would regret it. I know that you are out of my league. I’m just happy that you let me buy you a drink. This is the highlight of my week.”

His mix of naive innocence, self-awareness, and honesty intrigue me a bit. His words feel genuine… and good. He looks me in the eye when he’s talking to me even though he’s obviously intimidated by me. I like that.

“Go on,” I bait him.
“Well, uh. If you aren’t here to meet someone, I’m guessing that either you already have a sub or one other reason.”
“How do you know that I’m not a sub?” I can’t help but tease. He blushes again.
“Um, well. There’s no way. I noticed it when you entered the room. Your aura. You have a confidence that transcends words.”

Well isn’t he quite the little wordsmith.
“Perceptive. And If I tell you that I don’t have a sub?”
“Then you are here because it is the only place that you can be the REAL you.”

He’s clever. I feel a tingle. A bit of fear follows. I trace that feeling. Why am I afraid that he gets it?

“I said too much, didn’t I?” His face shows a mix of regret and defeat. He seems so small.
“I don’t know, David. If this was a job interview, I would say you said just enough to get to the second round.”

I watch his face light up. I should appreciate the fact that he doesn’t try to conceal his emotions. I feel almost guilty for hiding mine, but every previous failure is a reminder.

“Do my clothes tickle your fetishes, David?”

I watch his Adam’s apple shift as he swallows. For the first time, he diverts his eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.”

I can’t contain the sly grin. Poor boy, you just woke the predator. My eyes become daggers. My tongue is the lash.

“Does that embarrass you to admit that, David?”
He nods. I prod him further.
“People speak with words, David.”
“Yes, ma’am.”

I glance down and notice the tent in his pants. I smirk.
“You know, David. The reason that I don’t go out looking for subs is because there are so few that can give me what I am looking for.”
He swallows again.

“Why do you think that is?”
“If I had to guess, it is because you have exacting standards, ma’am.”
This boy is too clever for his own good.

“How old are you, David?”
“I’m 28, ma’am.”
“Would you like to ask me my age?”
“No, ma’am. A man with any tact would never dream of asking a woman such an impolite question.”

I tingle again. I have to look away. I hide my face as I take another drink. Patience, Wanda. I prod him again.

“I have no intention of giving you my name today, David. How does that make you feel?”
This clearly agitates him. I wonder how he will respond.
“I feel a little disappointed, ma’am, but I completely respect your desire for privacy. Your comfort is worth more than my disappointment. I’m more than happy just being able to enjoy your company.”

This boy thinks quickly. His manners are superb. I have to wonder if he will show his true colors or if these are his true colors. I no longer give boys the benefit of the doubt.

“Do you have a Domme, David?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you ever served a Domme?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did she break up with you? How did it end?”

His expression shifts. He looks like I just kicked him in the gut. I will respect his choice if he defers. I will respect him if he answers honestly.
“She died, ma’am. Cancer.”
“That must have been devastating, David.”
“Yes, it was, ma’am.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Two and a half years ago, ma’am.”

His eyes appear moist as the dim lights reflect off of them. I throw him a lifeline… in an underhanded way.
“What if I told you that I hate being called ma’am and that by using that word without my consent has ensured that I would never consider you?” Dance for me, boy.
“Um. I. But. Uh. I’m sorry. If. I’m sorry if I offended you. You didn’t tell me a name. I didn’t know what to say.”
“Relax, David. I was asking what if, I’m actually rather fond of ma’am. Ms would have been acceptable as well.”

He clenches his eyes and furrows his brow, realizing that I played him. He opens his eyes. I respond with a grin. He rolls his eyes around and beams a smile. He’s cute when he smiles.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“For what?”
“I was drowning, ma’am. You chose to save me. Thank you.”

Another tingle. Butterflies follow. Such a clever boy. I’m not emotionally prepared for this. I will test him and see what happens.

“Do you have a kinklife account, David?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I saw your little dickie standing up earlier. How would you feel if I told you that any sub of mine would spend the rest of their life locked up in chastity and would never have another orgasm?”

His eyes widen. I just jolted him. He opens his mouth. I hold my finger to my lips to “shush” him.
“Tread carefully, David. I do not deal well with disappointment. Consider your answer to that question and really think about what that means. If you are still interested, find me on kinklife. My location is set to this city. You’ll know me when you find me. I give you permission to stalk me there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”

I read his body language. He looks energized. I need to think and I’m not here to think.
“I am going to enjoy the rest of my evening, David. Please respect my privacy for the rest of the evening. You may thank me for giving you 20 minutes of my time.”

I extend my hand. Another test. He takes a step closer and gets down on one knee. He gently takes my hand and plants a kiss upon it. I tingle. He lowers his head but projects his voice loud enough for me to hear it.
“Thank you so very much, ma’am, for the privilege of your time. It means the world to me.”

I glance around. He said it loud enough for bystanders to hear. I bury the mild embarrassment and grin. I make eye contact with a man by the bar. I wink. He turns away. I win. David releases my hand and stealthily moves across the bar. I can tell he is trying his hardest not to look back. I smile.

I finish my drink and put the empty glass on the bar. I’ve kept my composure but I need a few minutes. I decide to hide in the ladies room. Bad idea. The sounds of moans emanates from the stalls with feet and legs sprawling out from under the walls.

David feels real. Why does real feel so unnerving on a night when I was expecting to have fun? I tilt my head back and close my eyes. Composure, Wanda. Have fun. This is your night. I hear the stall door clang open, catching my attention. A husky feminine voice follows.

“I appreciate the assistance. Now get out, this is the ladies room.”
“But baby, you can’t just…”
“If I wanted you to talk, do you think I would have sat on your face?”
“Christ. Think you’re all hot shit or something. Bitch.”
“Talk to me like that again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

My jaw drops. The woman is towering. She stands at least 6’4” in those platform boots. But her outfit. My stomach tightens with a series of tingles. I press my thighs together. A red leather teddy trimmed in black fur. A matching cropped leather jacket trimmed in fur. A fur headband on her head. That long black hair. She’s so beautiful. I want to be her.
“I’d like to see you try. You’re all talk.”

I watch the woman assume a fighting stance. Think fast, Wanda. I take a breath and shout.

“Get the fuck out of here! Why is there a man in the ladies room? Someone call security!”
“Fuck this!”

The man turns and runs out the door.

“I could have taken him.”
“You would have killed him.”
“It would have been fun, why did you stop me?”

She takes a few steps closer to me. I tremble. She’s so intimidating. This presence. It’s overwhelming. Be brave, Wanda. Just spit it out.
“If you got arrested I wouldn’t be able to find out where you got that outfit.”

Her red lips part into a grin. She steps closer. I instinctively step back and find the wall. She drags a metal talon on the tip of her finger up my cheek. I feel every hair on my body stand on end.

“You have claws, kitten. Be more confident.”
I try to think up a witty response. Instead I swallow and nod.

“Compose yourself, kitten. If you want to know about my outfit, come find us in the club. We have a table.”

I relax a touch as she turns away. She turns back abruptly, causing me to jump a little. She leans her head uncomfortably close and inhales loudly through her nose.
“I love your coat, kitten.”

She gnashes her teeth together before her lips part into a wide grin.
“I do hope to see you.”

She touches her hand to my shoulder. I find it oddly comforting, like she’s saying, ‘you’re one of us.’ I feel like I’m in a trance. David who? Who was that? Do you ever have one of those moments where a concept that you were aware of but didn’t fully understand comes through with crystal clarity? This was the moment that I came to understand the meaning of the term ‘girl-crush.’

I bite my lip and press my thighs together as the tingles return. I move forward and look at myself in the mirror. My confidence shrivels a bit. How do I compare with that? I emerge from the bathroom and scan across the club. That table. The one separated off by ropes. It’s usually empty but tonight it is full. I see her. Along with a group of others… and they all match. I need a drink.

I march my way over to the bar for some liquid courage.
“I need something… a shot… that will make me brave… and doesn’t taste bad.”

The bartender reacts with a small laugh as he wipes down a glass.
“You were plenty brave with that boy just a little while ago.”

 

My face burns red. Composure, Wanda.
“Who are they and what’s their story?”
I do my best to appear slick with a head lean in the direction of their table. The bartender smiles at me.

“They call them, the sirens.”
“Like the evil women creatures from Greek mythology that would lure sailors to their death with their intoxicating songs?”

The bartender smiles even harder and nods his head.
“It’s not really a fair label, but they tend to stand out.”
“I just saw one of them almost kill a guy in the bathroom.”
“That would have to be Dominique. The tall one with black hair, right?”

I nod.
“She’s amazing.”
I feel another blush come on.

“I’ve seen her bring giants to their knees. She’s sort of a celebrity in the scene in this town. But their ringleader is named Cassandra. She’s the tall brunette dressed in black. She’s a wonderful woman.”
“Do you know her?”
“A little bit here and there. She used to host a Femdom group for newbies here once a week. The owner would let her use the space during the lunch hour. We don’t usually open until 5pm.”
“Did you attend the meetings?”

The bartender chuckles and blushes.
“No, but the owner asked for a volunteer to staff the meetings and I volunteered. It was off the books. I got paid in tips. Cassandra was always very friendly and very generous. A very nice woman. She owns the shop where their outfits were made.”
“Do you think if I went over there they would talk to me?”

He smiles at me and replies in a pure voice without a trace of sarcasm.
“I think you would fit right in.”

I beam a smile back at him.
“Do you still want that drink that will make you brave?”
“I think you are an excellent bartender. What’s your name?”

He chuckles.
“Marcus.”
“Marcus, can I tell you a secret?”

I hold up my hand to my mouth like I am going to whisper. He puts his hands on the bar and leans forward, turning his ear. I plant a kiss on his cheek and quickly whisper.
“You’re a sweetie. I’m Wanda.”

Marcus blushes profusely. I watch him mouth the word ‘wow’ before smiling slyly at me and nodding.
“Go get ‘em, Wanda. You’ll be fine.”

I feel a spring in my step. Was I too cheeky? Who cares. It’s funny how the right type of kindness can make you feel so good. It makes me wonder why the world is so rarely kind. I can’t stop smiling. Every step I take oozes with confidence. I reach the ropes.

“And she’s here. I knew you’d come, kitten. Come and join us.”

She snaps her fingers. A man in a collar stands.
“Chair for our guest.”
He nods and quickly fetches another chair and places it at an opening in the table.

“Kitten, I’m Dominique. That’s Cassandra in the black. The blushing lush in purple is Lisa. Theresa in the gray with her sub B, Brittany in pink, That’s Sasha who is… also in purple. Really, Sasha?”
“You guys gave me orange. Fuck orange.”
The table laughs.
“And Tristan in blue.
“Are you really named Kitten? That’s so cute.” Lisa looks extremely drunk.
“Hello, I’m Wanda. Thank you for having me.”

An exchange of pleasantries follows. Everyone seems very friendly.

“I’m jealous of you, Wanda.” Cassandra’s words take me by surprise.
“Jealous of me?”
“Not every woman is lucky enough to be named Wanda, especially for those who wish to be Venus in Furs.”

I blush and smile. Witty retort, witty retort.
“If only I could meet my Severin.”

Cassandra’s smile puts me at ease.
“I like your coat.”
“Thank you. I absolutely love your outfits.”
“That’s what Dom said. She said you would be here in 20 minutes. It only took 19.”
“Were you taking bets?”

She laughs. I’m glad.
“I know never to bet against Dominique. She has an uncanny ability to read people. I was really looking forward to meeting this kitten with claws.”

I blush again. Cassandra reaches into her purse and retrieves a business card, passing it across the table.

“If you like the outfit, call the top number tomorrow. It will reach my assistant, Lisa. She’ll be sober by then and she’s sharp as a tack when sober. She’ll set up a VIP appointment.”
“Umm… I don’t know if I would qualify as a VIP.”

Cassandra smiles.
“All dominant women are VIPs to me.”

I glance down at the card. ‘Fur Her Pleasure: fine leathers and furs for the discerning woman.’ I thank her and tuck the card into my pocket.

The lights begin to flash. A spotlight illuminates the stage. A pretty young MC steps up with a microphone in hand. I look at my phone. It’s midnight. She announces over the speakers in the club begin to announce the demos that will be starting soon. This is the time that I would normally leave. I don’t want to. I fidget with my phone, debating my options.

Cassandra leans closer to me.
“If you have to leave, don’t feel bad. I’m guessing you have work in the morning?”
I nod.
“Make sure to schedule an appointment. Don’t worry about feeling left out tonight. This isn’t a very intimate environment to get to know people. Our circle is very inclusive. The people who belong tend to find us. It’s been over a year since we’ve found anyone new.”
“Thank you, Cassandra.”

I feel a mix of excitement and disappointment as I bid my farewells. I don’t want to drag ass tomorrow at work. My head spins with possibilities. On my way out, I pass David. He respected my wishes and left me to myself. Our eyes meet. I crack a smile and then look away. He resists the urge to speak to me. Good boy.

At home in bed I replay the night’s events. I feel alive. I take Cassandra’s business card and enter the numbers into my phone, creating contacts for them. This card even has her personal email address. Sensory overload. David. Dominique. Cassandra.

I only know one thing that will settle my brain down enough to sleep. I roll over and retrieve my favorite toy from the drawer. The familiar fantasies fill my head. I fantasize about the one I have yet to find. I fantasize about what that life will be like. My moans and the buzzing of the toy fill the room.

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6 thoughts on “fs02: A Domme’s View – Arc 1 – Chapter 3

  1. I love this chapter for many reasons… the introduction of David and how he gets under her skin and she likes it but doesn’t like it. The return of Dom and Cass! I remember their evening out to this club from fs01. And how you show Her wavering confidence, because I think it’s realistic (confidence goes up and down). 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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