Message-ID: <19653eli$9902040442@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year99/19653.txt> From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (21/31) (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 X-Authentication-Warning: philabs-gw.philabs.research.philips.com: smap set sender to <news@winter.news.rcn.net> using -f Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <36bcf827.9283070@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 21: Conversations in the Night Mary was relaxing in Gerald's favorite chair, sipping his cognac and watching the flames dance in the hearth of his darkened den. She loved the aroma of leather and Gerry, and she snuggled deeper into the chair's cushiony depths. It had been a marvelous week, particularly considering how badly things had been going just before that. Gerry was such a dear. Once he realized how his protective shell affected her, impeded her, he'd improved immediately. Oh, he'd still drop into that "dead zone" from time to time, especially if she did anything that reminded him of his last experience as Geraldine, but he'd snap out of it once she pointed it out to him. She'd just sent him up to bed. He had very sweetly given up his eight hours of Sunday football so that she could play with him for an extended period today. He'd said that the games weren't all that good and that he *really* wanted the time off to watch Monday Night Football this week, but they both knew that was a polite fiction on his part. First, because she had not yet, nor did she have any intention of ever denying him that simple pleasure. For her own part, Mary hated football, and Gerald knew it, but to date, she'd managed to have Gerald in the vicinity of the television when Hank Jr. started singing about getting ready for some football. Even if he was there only as her footrest. No, Gerald had given up his time off because he knew that she wanted to play with him, and because he *wanted* to play with her. At least, he wanted to work at playing openly with her. Besides, even though football bored her, keeping score could be a lot of fun - for her. There were just so many ways an imaginative Domme could account for each point in the game. One evening she'd tied him to his chair and then put a clothespin on him for every point scored - one on the right breast for the home team, one on the left for the visiting team. Another night, she did something similar on his butt using a crop for one team and her tawse for the other. Unfortunately for Gerry, that game had been between Green Bay and San Francisco. Final score: 35 to 34. Gerry had finished watching that game standing up and had slept on his tummy that night. Her happy reveries were broken by the soft electronic chiming of the telephone. Wondering who'd be calling at ten o'clock on a Sunday night, she picked up the receiver. "Hello?" "Hi Mary, How are you and Gerald doing, love?" "Oh, hi, Gemma. Actually, we're doing pretty good. How are you?" "Fine, fine." the softly accented voice returned. "And I really want to know a little more than that. You were pretty upset when you called me Thursday night." I certainly was, Mary thought wryly. She'd been so tired when she'd left Gerald to his own devices, but she had been too keyed up to sleep. Finally, she'd called Gemma and had cried out her frustrations, her anger and yes, even her fears, for she had been very afraid that Gerald would not be able to open up to her again. "Well, we're not back to where we were all those months ago, but we're pretty close to where we were before the last congregation. He is trying very hard to remain open to me, and to feed me emotionally when we're in a scene together. If anything, he is almost trying too hard. I swear, if I hadn't yelled at him for it, the poor dear would have tied himself up for me this afternoon." "Would have spoiled your fun, eh?" was the amused reply. "Well, lets just say that I am currently trying to figure out a tactful but effective way to punish him for being too determined to be perfect. I guess he's figured that if he has to feel, he is going to do everything exactly right so that he doesn't get disciplined." "He's been in the game long enough to know that it just doesn't work that way, Mary. Sometimes a Domme just wants to see her knight-errant/submissive suffer for her. That's not punishment and he knows that. I am sure it will all work itself out now that he isn't hiding mentally and emotionally from you or himself anymore." "It could make for a very interesting scene at the Lodge next week." Mary giggled. "Give him the planned scene script on a typewritten piece of paper and let him go torment himself for me." An amused chuckle answered her. "Remind me to tell the story of how Alex caned himself for me back before we got married." then her voice changed." Mary? We have to talk about your next Lodge demonstration scene. We both agree that the last scene you did with him up there really got deeply into his head. I mean, if he needed to resort to those extremes at the very end of it and then again after the scene, then he was really into it what we had going on, at least up until the very end." "Yes. And both of those reactions pretty well validate my theory about what actually happened that night that I told you about." "I know, you told me about that when you called the other night, too." "I did?!?" That surprised Mary, and disconcerted her. She didn't remember telling her that and really wasn't all that sure if she wanted Gemma to know that. She must have really been out of it when she'd called her friend. "Yes, and I agree with you. In fact, that is the reason I called. Listen." And Mary listened, her anticipation quickly turning to disbelief and then to dismay, but she held her counsel until Gemma had finished her proposal. "I don't know about that, Gemma. That particular scenario is pretty far out there on the edge. I really don't think I want to try that one with him." "Mary, several members have expressed concern about him." Mary fumed at that, certain that number included that silly bitch, Beth and her damned husband. "We all know your feelings about him, and we know that you plan on having him with you at the Lodge regularly once you complete your contract. But having him at the Lodge, say on one of the "all slaves must submit to all Dominants" weekends, frightens some folks. Particularly if you are not there to control him." "Gemma, for god's sake, why should he need to be controlled?!? If we get through this damned contract, won't that be proof that he is safe and trustworthy?" "They are concerned because it was obvious how much he cares about you and the limits he will go for you. It was also obvious, however, just how tight a rein he was keeping on his emotions towards the end of that nightclub scene. What if he isn't as motivated to hold himself in check for someone other than you?" "Of course not, Gemma. Come on, now, please. Are you really afraid he will lose it again? Go berserk and hurt himself or someone else? The answer to that question is *NO*, DAMMIT!" Mary yelled into the receiver. "Of course he won't do anything like that." "Are you really that sure, dear?" Gemma asked very softly. "Wouldn't you prefer that if it does happen, that it happens at the Lodge, where he can be kept restrained and where there are other people to help control him and to protect you?" "I just told you, Gemma, nothing like that is going to happen, regardless of what I put him through on Saturday." Mary's voice was icy cold even though her temper was running red hot. "Then there's no problem with the plan I just proposed, is there? We think you should do it, Mary. You have to be sure. *We* have to be sure before we go much further with him. Just as importantly, he has to be sure that he can live in our world. Besides, if your theory is right, and I agree with you that it explains a great deal, this would be a logical next progression in your program for him, wouldn't it?" "I wasn't planning anything that harsh, Gemma." "Is it against his contract or in violation of any verbal promises you've made to him?" Mary hesitated, wanting to lie, but in the end, opted for the truth. Gemma just might ask Gerald herself and the honest fool would answer her. "No, it's not. However, that is only because I haven't done or discussed anything remotely like that with him in the past. I know him and I have always considered that scenario out of bounds with Gerald. Christ, Gemma, if he knew about that scene, it might well be a limit - I'm not really sure, but one way or the other, it would be damned close. And he will positively detest every stinking minute of it. . .AGAIN!" "If it is not a prohibited limit between you, we think you should do it." Gemma repeated with grim finality. Mary said nothing for almost a minute, as she ran through the possibilities in her head. On one hand, it might just get him over the hump. Assuming, of course, that she was right about what happened in his head when he went for her throat. On the other, she knew this would be extremely dangerous ground, from the perspective of her hopes for a long term relationship with Gerry. There were limits and there were *limits* - just because something wasn't negotiated to death and then set down in a contract written in virgins' blood did not mean that the activity was not a real limit. She was pretty confident that the only reason this particular concept was not a hard negotiated limit was because Gerald couldn't begin to conceive of such a thing being in any way considered 'play'. "Mary?" Gemma's voice broke into her mental argument with herself. "You still there?" "I am," she replied flatly. "Well?" "I don't know, Gemma. I just don't. I am going to have to think about this one for a while." "We think you should do it." Gemma repeated for the third time. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out for myself," Mary snapped sarcastically. "But what matters in the final say-so is if I think I should do it. And right now, I just don't know. I'll think about it some more and let you know before Friday evening." "I need to have the staff set up for it if you're going to do as we ask, Mary." "So fucking do it." Mary hissed out angrily. "If I decide not to do as you've *requested*, it won't be all that difficult to change the staging. That is, if I will be allowed to substitute another script of my choosing." "Oh, you know you'll be allowed to do whatever you damn well please," Gemma retorted, her own temper starting to show in her voice. "You *are* the Domme, after all, but if you do something that does not press him hard, there will be some serious unanswered questions about Gerald. The congregation after your last demonstration is one of those "every slave submits to every dominant" weekends. You have to at least accept the possibility of him lacking the motivation to worry about some other dominant's safety as he does when it is you pushing his buttons. God, that sounds so strange, doesn't it? A submissive being concerned about and taking responsibility for the Domme's safety in a scene. It is supposed to be the other way around." "So he's special. I've always known that. Cut to the chase, dammit. Make your point." Mary growled. "It is pretty simple, I would think, Mary." Gemma said aggressively. "The membership knows what he did to you, Mary. We are going to have some bloody uncomfortable friends if you show up with him in tow that weekend. Unless you can prove that he does not represent a danger to the other people at the congregation." "Like I said, Gemma, I will let you know if we are coming. I have to go. Good night." Mary slammed down the phone without waiting for Gemma's response. "And to think," she told herself as she took a large swallow of the fiery distilled wine, "Just a few, short moments ago, I was feeling really good about Gerry and me, and the world in general." She shook her head sadly. "Just goes to show that Murphy really was an optimist. DAMN!" 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