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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 15: Second Thoughts Before Firing the Crucible

Mary left Gerald to clean up her room while she went down to
the Grand Ballroom to ensure that everything was prepared per
her instructions.  She almost hoped that it wasn't.  Gerald's
reaction in the main salon last night had nearly convinced her
to call off the planned scene and do something else.  But
sometimes the best medicine was the most bitter tasting.  At
least, that is what she had to keep telling herself.

"Checking things out?" A soft, English accented voice asked
from behind.  "I think you will find that it is all as you
specified."

Mary turned to face Gemma.  The tall black woman was
strikingly attired in, of all things, skin-tight pink leather
from her fingers to her toes.  Mary's double take drew a
rueful chuckle from her friend.  "Alex, I am afraid.  The
sight of me in this particular shade of electric pink just
turns him into an animal.  When I let him be the dom, he puts
me in this color, albeit with a lot more shiny, well oiled
black skin showing, and when I am here as the Domme, I often
wear it because I like to indulge him."  She sighed deeply. 
"I can hardly believe I am saying this, but the color grows on
you. I have almost gotten to the point that like the look
myself."

"It is. . . . well, quite . . .eye catching."

"Good thing I am not shy." Gemma responded equably.  Mary
winced at that.  "As your Gerry evidently is." she added
quietly. "In fact, I would say he is terribly shy.  Odd for
such a well built man not to want to show off the fruit of
what must have required hours in the gym."

"That's my Gerry.  So. You heard, did you?"

"Darling, the whole compound has heard.  Alex tells me you
were ready to take him out of here right then and there."

"I didn't see Alex, but it's true.  Only he talked me out of
it.  I am not at all sure that was the correct decision."  She
stepped back and looked down on the stage and all the
trappings she had specified for this scene.  "Oh God, Gemma,
he is going to hate this so much."

"Enough that he will balk?  Not even try at all once you tell
him what you want?"

Mary considered that and shook her head.  "No, he'll try.  For
me, he will try."  Her arms came up to clutch at her sides as
if to ward away a chill. "What he'll very likely do is simply
endure." They had been having such fun with their little games
at his home, and the thought of Gerry just . . .just enduring
her games like punishment again was a huge letdown for her. 
Besides, it could ruin everything.  

If only he could get past that wall of his fear by himself
today and begin to enjoy himself here - even a little bit -
they could make so much progress together.  Was that too much
to hope for?  Mary wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. 
"I almost wish he had agreed to leave last night, Gemma.  I
could lose everything with this."

"But you could gain it all, too.  No one ever said that
everything a dominant asks of a submissive has to be something
the submissive enjoys.  And for God's sake remember that is
all you are actually doing - *asking*!   If the submissive is
only asked to do enjoyable things, what is the point all the
effort it takes to be the Domme?  Hell, what's the point of
being the sub in that case?  It is the conquering of the dark
and fearsome unknown that makes this thing we do special, that
instills the nobility into the gift of his submission.  You
selected today's plot for a reason, Mary, and now you are
uncertain.  All right, that is fair.  Answer me this.  Given
what you believe is the basic problem, does this scene
accomplish the purpose you set out when you planned it?"

"But after last night, Gemma, the way he reacted to the others
simply standing there and watching him. . ."

"Does it answer the purpose, Mary?" Gemma asked again firmly.

Mary wanted to say no, wanted to yell it, but finally nodded.
"I think so.  At least, if he sticks it out all the way."

"All right.  Is there another, less stressful program that you
could substitute that would accomplish the same purpose?"

Defeated, Mary shook her head.  "No.  I wish there was, but if
this doesn't work, or if he doesn't react as I've anticipated,
then I am completely wrong about him and why he attacked me
that night."  She turned away.  "And I will have lost.  The
only problem, Gemma, is even if I am right, I could still
lose.  He might very well hate me afterwards."

"You knew this was a long-odds gamble from the beginning,
Mary.  So let me ask you this. Is there any possibility that
you might yet find another way to win without this?"

The answer was immediate.  "No, the stubborn, loving and
lovable idiot would keep on trying to protect me by staying
away from me.  And that is absolutely the worst thing that
could happen to me. . . .to us."

"Then there is your answer.  So, are you going to play this
afternoon's scene out the same way as the last time you did it
here?"

Mary looked back down at the stage, and shrugged.  "Just
about.  Except the last time I used this script, I used the
threat of a public strapping as incentive for the sub's good
behavior and best effort.  The sub in question did precisely
what I ordered or he would be strung up in the center
courtyard for the Whip-Mistress."

"Why not do that today?"

"Gerald would opt for the strapping in a heartbeat." Mary
responded wryly.  "As strict and demanding as the WhipMistress
is, Gerry would handle whatever she could dish out without a
qualm.  She would take him deep physically so that he'd carry
the marks and the memories for days afterwards, but she
wouldn't reach him mentally or emotionally.  No, he can't have
any way out.  Not if we're going to do what needs be done."

"No way out??!? You aren't thinking of denying his safe word,
are you??"  Gemma was shocked.

"No, of course not.  I just know he'll resist taking that way
out for as long as he can.  His whole purpose in being here is
to restore my standing within the Cabal, and he is afraid of
how the Council might rule if he does safe word. No, I expect
that he'll just swallow hard, keep on trying and keep on
hating it."  Mary checked her watch and realized she'd been
gone almost three quarters of an hour.  "I have to go. 
Gerry's got to dress me and fix my hair and make up before the
demonstration.  See you there, Gemma.  Wish me luck."

Gemma watched the petite woman make her way back towards the
living area.  "Luck, girl.  A whole big lot of it."  And then
she turned toward her own rooms.  She needed to be held and
fortunately, Alex would be right where she left him.  Lazy boy
recliner chairs that converted into mini-torture racks were
very handy that way.

Part 16: A Challenge to Manhood

"Ladies, Gentlemen and slaves, I give you Mistress Mary and
her slave, Gerald."  Gemma had finished the announcement of
the demonstration with the introductions of the participants.

Gerald looked out into the darkened ballroom.  It was in the
nightclub setup of scattered tables and chair with dim lights
and candles.  From what he could see in the minimal lighting,
the room was about half full.  If his hands hadn't been cuffed
behind his back, he'd be trying to cover himself with his
hands.  Mary gave a slight jerk on his leash and began to
stride down the center aisle towards the main stage.  It was
show time.

He followed her, not too close, but not too far, either.  His
station behind her and his lowered gaze provided him with an
excellent view of Mary's back and tight little bottom.  She
was dressed in a simple, almost backless evening dress of
unrelieved black.  Not overtly sexy or flashy, it showed off
her slender figure and small frame superbly.  

He'd personally spent the last hour trying to get her hair
into that tight french braid, and had finally succeeded on the
fourth try.  Her cosmetics had been a little easier.  He
hadn't done a bad job on her at all, if he did say so himself. 
Refined, elegant and sexy.

Gerald had always enjoyed playing the lady's maid to his
Mistress.  Pampering her that way didn't embarrass him. 
Actually, he found the experience affirming to his
masculinity. It certainly did not seem unmanly to take care of
the woman in his life, and there might not be many more such
opportunities in his life once the contract had been
fulfilled. 

And her silly game of "geri and Mommy" had brought more fun
and laughter into their lives than they'd had in months. 

Mary led him up on to the stage.  He looked around for any
clues and was immediately confused.  The stage was an exact
replica of the dressing room in Mistress Mary's suite right
down to the attached bathing area.  Had she been making him
practice doing her makeup and hair on the sly for this?  Was
that it?  He was going to dress her and fix her up here?  And
then what?  He'd fail somehow and have to be punished in some
way?

Mary snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor in front of
her, and Gerald quickly took his place on his knees before
her.

"Slave." she said in starkly cold scene voice that always made
Gerald want to flinch from her.  "You are here today to
entertain  my friends and me." and she waved out to the
faceless masses beyond the stage lights.  "Would you like to
know how you are going to do that, slave?"

Gerald remembered the woman who had comforted him last night,
who had offered to surrender her place in the Cabal and simply
take him home because he was so embarrassed at being seen bare
assed.  And this was the same woman, he reminded himself. 
"Yes, Mistress, please." he answered out quietly.

Mary spun on her high heel shod foot and moved toward the
large armoire located near the back of the stage.  He nearly
fell onto his face trying to crawl after her on his knees, his
balance out of kilter with his hands locked behind his back. 
With a theatrical flourish, she opened the door and showed him
and the audience the contents.

It was filled with women's clothing - lingerie, dresses, shoes
- and several wigs on their head-shaped stands.  His first
thought was that he had guessed correctly, but then he looked
at the dresses more closely.  They seemed a little large for
his little Mistress and not at all her style.  In fact, he was
fairly certain that he'd never seen Mary wear anything
remotely like those before.

"I wish to be served today, slave."  Mary continued.

I was right after all, Gerry thought to himself.

"I wish to be served by a maid, slave, and I have decided that
*you* will be that "female" maid."

Gerald felt his mouth drop open.  That's what she wanted him
to do?  Is that what she meant about letting him get dressed? 
"Mistress," he asked softly.  "You are going to put me in . .
.those . . . clothes and have me serve you that way? Here??" 
Lord, it was one thing to become Gerrie for her, but this. . . 

"Oh no, slave," she said in a sweet, teasing voice. "I'm not
going to dress you up." Gerald started to breathe again.  "No,
indeed. YOU will be dressing yourself up in those things.  I
said you were going to entertain me, and part of that
entertainment is going to be watching you turn yourself into a
passable female for me." she looked him hard in the eyes. 
"Right down to your smooth, hairless skin, slave."

Gerald looked at the thick pelt of body hair that had been his
since his teens and then stared back up in disbelief at Mary. 
Even when she'd made him dress up like a little girl until
she'd freed him from the Gerrie persona, she'd made no attempt
to de-fur him. 

"Let me be very clear about this, slave, right from the very
start.  I want to be served by a lovely woman, *not* by some
Saturday Night Live caricature of a drag queen.  If you please
me with your efforts, then I will take you up to my room and
let you serve me for the rest of our stay in the privacy of my
suite." she let that offer dangle in front of him like a
carrot on a stick. "In the course of that, I will undertake to
further your tuition in feminine deportment and behavior."

Now it was time to brandish the stick, she thought. 
"However," she continued in a darker, more intense tone of
voice.  "Fail to entertain me, or worse, fail to please me
with your efforts, and I will not bother myself to train your
further. Instead, I will simply turn you over to the Mistress
in Charge of the evening meal and evening entertainments.  You
will join the other slave *girls*, first as a waitress and
then as a serving wench.  In the course of that evening, I am
sure that the Mistress in Charge, as well as the other
Mistresses and Masters will see to your to your training for
me. . . . and to your correction for failing to obey my
commands."

With that, Mary reached down and unlocked the cuffs from his
wrists and then removed his collar.  "You may begin.  I
suggest you start in the shower, slave, with the depilatory. 
I don't have all day to watch you try to shave that mat of fur
off, and besides, you won't get it all off using a razor,
anyway."

With that parting shot, Mary strode off the stage and took a
throne-like chair directly in front of the stage.  Gerald just
stared at her for what seemed like an incredibly long time. 
Several of the guests started to fidget, waiting for him to
get up off his knees and begin.

"I. . . .am. . . .waiting, slave." Mary caroled from her seat.

His safe word was on the tip of his tongue.  He hadn't
bargained for anything like this.  There was no way he could
pull this off, and he was going to spend the entire night
being tormented by everybody here.  It wasn't worth it.

Except, it was.  Or at least, Mary was.  And he'd promised.  

Slowly, Gerald stood and began to make his way around the
stage, finding the shower, the vanity and the various tools of
the trade all put there for his use.  Now the real purpose of
the past two weeks of training became clear. Everything, from
the body service to Mistress Mary, to being made to parade
himself about for her in those minimally heeled shoes to
learning the mysteries of lipstick and other cosmetics, had
been pointed towards what she wanted him to do here and now. 
She'd told him she'd help him get ready for whatever came down
at the demonstrations.  He just hadn't figured that he'd been
preparing to do himself up like that.

Shoulders drooping, Gerald found the hair remover, and moved
to the shower.  His last thought before stepping in was that
the damn thing had a clear glass door and not an opaque shower
curtain.  Then he looked at the box and began to read the
directions and the cautions.

~--------------~

The afternoon eventually became somewhat easier on the
humiliation-sensitive submissive.  Throughout the long trial,
Mary sat in stern judgement of his efforts.  Not once did she
touch him or offer him the slightest encouragement.  Quite the
contrary, from her throne of power, she gleefully took every
opportunity to tease him further and to amuse the audience at
his expense.

It began the moment that Gerry stepped into the shower stall,
and began to apply the thick pink salve all over his body.
"Slave!" Mary commanded harshly.  "I don't want to see your
back.  I want you to always face your audience unless I order
you to do otherwise. We want to see your smiling face. . . .
among other things."

Finally, it was time to wash off the hair remover, and he
stepped from the shower.  Uncertain what to do next, Gerry
walked over to look at the clothing he'd been provided for
this test.

Mary stopped him with an order to "Wait, slave.  We should be
sure that you did an adequate job, slave.  Some of that finery
is delicate and I wouldn't want to see it ruined by stubble."  

"Dina!" Mary yelled and was immediately answered by a tall,
slender blonde kneeling at the side of the state. "Assist my
slave, please.  Check him over to make sure that he. . . I
mean that *she* has gotten rid of all that unsightly body
hair." 

"Yes, Mistress." she replied and moved up to escort Gerald to
the front of center stage.  The woman carefully and thoroughly
checked what seemed like every square inch of his skin,
ensuring that Mary and not coincidentally, everyone else in
the room could see her every move.  She put him through a
series of very embarrassing poses and postures so that she
could "be absolutely certain that every inch of your
Mistress's body is properly smooth."  

It was a tossup which of two particularly nasty poses was more
emotionally difficult for him - bending over and having her
spread his ass cheeks as wide she could for her inspection, or
having her hold his penis in one hand while she twisted and
displayed his scrotum for her audience with the other. Both of
those positions drew laughter and not a few raucous comments
from the gallery, especially when, in spite of himself, his
cock erected under the woman's skilled and teasing touch while
she displayed him for Mistress Mary.

When Dina finally released him, he started to turn away, but
was stopped by a light kiss brushing his cheek.  Shocked, he
looked up just in time to see her give him a teasing smile and
a sly wink.  Strangely, it made him begin to feel a little
better.

In truth, he realized, he couldn't be much more "on exhibit"
than he'd just been.  Whatever else she'd done, Dina had made
sure he had no secrets from the crowd of onlookers.  

And he'd survived it.

He looked back at the open armoire and relaxed just a bit
more.  Was this really any different than what Mary had done
to him over the past couple of weeks?  That had all started
out being pretty humiliating, at least at first, but in the
end, it had been fun and exciting.  He thought about the
chance to play with Mary in her room tonight and felt his
still semierect cock twitch.  Down boy, he told himself. 
Gerald was enough of realist to know that, in all likelihood,
he'd be spending the night in the cabaret serving drinks, but
suppose he really did well?  Suppose he really gave these
gawkers a show they would not soon forget?

Maybe.

The actual dressing turned out to be more difficult than what
he'd done at home with Mary.  First of all, he'd never dressed
up completely before, unless he counted Little Geri's play
dress or Gerrie's pullover latex dress which didn't really
count.  Mary had dressed Geri, and Gerrie's dress was like
putting on a too-small, too long t-shirt. He just pulled in on
over his head and shimmied like burlesque dancer until the
damn thing was as low as it would go. And his only accessories
had been the two-inch high heels - no undies and no hosiery.

His second problem was the realization that none of the
dresses and skirts (if those tiny scraps of fabric could be
counted as such)would fit him.  They were all several inches
too small particularly in the waist.

"Well of course they don't fit, slave." Mary chided after he'd
tried and discarded the third or fourth outfit. A mischievous
grin blossomed on her lovely face.  "You haven't put your
undies and. . . .ummm. . . foundation garments on yet, silly."

A quick check of another drawer had unearthed a heavily boned,
black leather waist corset.  Gerry tried, but he just couldn't
get the rear lacing corset sufficiently tight.  He just wasn't
limber enough to reach in back of himself and then pull.

"Oh, all right.  I suppose if I am to have any entertainment
today, we will have to move this along." Mary turned her head
to a table behind her.  "Slave Dina, go assist my hapless
slave."

The blond slave girl again made her way up onto the stage
where, after giving Gerry a hearty slap on his still bare ass,
she began to expertly tighten the laces. 

"Well," Mary huffed extravagantly, "I had to get someone to
help you carry out my orders, slave, when I specifically
wanted to be entertained by *you*! That is twice you've needed
outside assistance, dear.  I can't say you've done all that
well just by your own efforts to this point, slave." 

That cuts it, Gerald thought wryly.  I am going to be playing
"Fraulein Slut the Tavern Wench" tonight.  Is this one of
those cases where when something is inevitable, you might as
well close your eyes and try to enjoy it?  Or was that think
of England?  He decided he'd try to enjoy it.  This time *he*
kissed Dina and gave *her* a flirtatious wink.

Gerry's wry conviction that his evening's fate was already
sealed became ever more certain.  Mary refused to be pleased
by everything he did - just the opposite, in fact.  The first
two dresses were all wrong for "her", Mary declared loudly,
much to the amusement of the assembled membership. Then he
laddered the first three pairs of hosiery he tried on, she
*hated* each of the first four wigs he selected and he was
simply not at all graceful in the "modestly high heels I
provided for you."  Only the damned "modest" heels were
actually well over four inches high, which was a good two
inches taller than anything he'd experienced in his days as
Gerrie.

He thought, incorrectly as it turned out, that he managed to
do a creditable job with the makeup, and Mary conceded that it
was adequately done from a technical perspective, "But you got
the colors all wrong. Those are far too subtle for a blonde. 
Those would be more appropriate on me.  Now, clean your face
and try to get it right this time, slave. Quickly if you
please, before You  begin to bore me and my guests."

The general laughter that ensued put lie to that assertion,
but it didn't really matter anymore. 

He'd again done as she'd directed.  Finished at last, Gerald
turned back to face Mistress Mary.  He'd done his best, and he
was satisfied with that.  Even all these people laughing at
him hadn't seemed quite so bad as it had last night.  Slowly,
Gerry slunk back to stage-center, one hand riding high on his
hip in as vampish a pose as he could manage without falling on
his face in the spiked heels.  Hips swinging, earrings
dancing, he pranced up directly in front of the throne.  

For several long seconds, the two of them just stared at each
other.  Gerry felt a muscle beneath one eye twitch as he
looked for some sign of acknowledgment, some tiny bit of
emotion, some glimmer of approval in Mary's visage.

He found none. She just kept staring right at him.  What more
could he possibly do???  What more could she possibly want???

Then, inspiration struck.  Gerald recalled a lesson Mary had
taught him the first night of his Gerrie French Maid
incarnation.  Gerald daintily lifted the front hem of the tiny
skirt, slid one heeled foot slowly behind the other to curtsey
to his Mistress.  Gerry sank down, his head bowed, and held
the position against the incredible strain of supporting his
out-of-balance-weight on one heeled foot.

Which ultimately did him in.  In trying to impress Mistress
Mary, Gerald held the single-leg, deep knee bend too long.
That, along the fact that the deep curtsey was far more
physically difficult to hold in four inch heels than in two
inch heels, and there just was not enough strength left in the
forward leg to bring him safely upright.

Gerald overbalanced badly as he tried to rise and suddenly
found himself flat on his back, a leg pinned beneath him. 
Without order, Dina ran forward to help him.  Gerald didn't
feel the subtle, but expert hands checking his leg and ankle
for signs of a serious injury, nor did he see the nurse's
quick nod of reassurance aimed in Mary's direction.  He was
too busy trying to struggle back to his feet.

Mary waited, using every bit of acting ability she possessed
to appear impassively disinterested, and every bit of her will
power not to run to his side, until Gerald was standing
upright and facing her again.  

"I cannot believe," she said shaking her head in obviously
exaggerated disgust, "that I was so foolish as to believe that
you were ready to show off to my guests." She stood slowly and
looked past Gerald to the other person on the stage.  "Slave
Dina, see that this . . . this person presents himself to the
Evening Mistress in Charge so that other Mistresses and
Masters may attempt to succeed with him where I have so
obviously failed."

Gerald watched as Mary turned on her heel and strode away from
him.  It was going to be a long night, he mused with one last
glance at Mary's retreating form.  Too bad he could not move
that gracefully.

End Part 16


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