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From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger)
Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (31b/31) (FemDom, Romance)
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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
Epilogue:
"But, Gemmmmmmaaa" the name came out in an almost childish
three toned whine, "I don't want to top anyone." Gerry
repeated for what seemed like the one hundredth time. "I am
just getting used to being a lifestyle sub for myself instead
of just enduring as a gift for Mistress Mary. I don't need my
thinking messed up right now when I am just starting to find
my head space."
"Sorry, darling, but rules are rules. You've been with us now
for over a year, and not once in all that time have you
registered as a switch, let alone a dominant." Gemma
explained for what seemed to be the one hundred and first
time.
"Dammit, after what you pulled on me, you owe me, Lady. How
about just a little consideration?"
"Sorry, my hands are tied by the Cabal bylaws on this one,
dear. I really can't cut you any slack, Gerry, and to be
frank, I don't really want to. You've been, at my instigation
to be true, deeply submerged in the submissive role for almost
four months. Okay, so I am happy that you and Mary have made
your commitment to one another, but you need to demonstrate
the balanced outlooks and understanding the Cabal insists upon
in our members."
Gemma saw him start to protest one more time, and cut him off
with a look. "Wouldn't it be awful to have endured what you
went through only to be removed from the membership because
you didn't follow the rules?" She said with soft entreaty,
taking his hand in her own. "And you know that Mary won't
attend if you can't. She's become bloody proprietary and
single minded where you are concerned. Hasn't done more than
the simplest, most elementary little play scenes with anyone
else since she first met you. Talk about love at first
sight."
He sighed in defeat. "When and who?" he asked.
Gemma thoroughly enjoyed the look of dumbfounded consternation
when she answered his question.
~----------------~
Mary sat at one of the tables in the Dinner Theater. Alex,
Gemma's husband, sat with her while they waited for Gemma to
perform the introductions.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the public exhibition of
this Change of Role scene for two of our members. In this
case, Mistress Freda will be bottoming to one of our more
submissively oriented males." The room lights went out and a
single spotlight focused on the curtain behind Gemma. Slowly
the velvet barrier parted to reveal a nearly nude female
figure.
Freda stood in the center of the small stage, her hands bound
loosely above her head to chain shackles hanging from the
ceiling. She couldn't pull her hands below the top of her
head, but she wasn't under any real strain, either. Her tall,
muscular body was garbed only in a very tight, latex G-string
Thong and a pair of moderately tall high heeled shoes, lace
gloves . . . and a blindfold. Her long ash-blond hair had
been pulled back into a skull hugging ponytail that was in
turn, tightly braided. The single, thick rope fell to the
small of her bare, tautly muscled back.
Gemma slipped into her chair at the table after giving her
husband a kiss. "Regardless of what I may have said about
her, there isn't anything fat about that arse. A
magnificently put together female animal, isn't she?" she
whispered. "It is little wonder that some of the hormonally
challenged guy-subs fall all over themselves for her."
"Like a work of art," Mary agreed. "Just like a statue of
white marble and almost as warm and cuddly."
That elicited an appreciative chuckle from her two table
mates, but Mary herself did not share the joke. She had grave
misgivings about this . . . had tried to talk both Gemma and
Gerry out of it. She'd even offered to stand as Gerry's bottom
herself, but to no avail.
"Stop worrying, Mary." Gemma hissed. "Nothing bad is going to
happen. Trust me," she paused before continuing, "Hell, trust
*him*."
Mary's response stuck in her throat as Gerry made his
entrance. A couple of the women gave a moue of disappointment
when they saw how he had chosen to dress. There was nothing
the least bit fetish-like about it, unless you thought
unrelieved black was somehow kinky. Black jeans, black work
boots, black T-shirt . . . and Gerry. Still, he looked quite
good to Mary. "He's got great buns." Gemma pointed out with
relish. "Love a man with good buns in tight jeans. Yum."
"Hey!" Alex protested. "Don't forget you're the sub this
weekend, lady. A little less appreciation of other women's
guys and a little more worship of your own, if you please."
Mary enjoyed the loving byplay of her two friends, all the
more because she saw the same kind of banter growing in her
own relationship with Gerry. If only he could get past this
last hurdle.
~-------------------~
Gerald stepped up to Freda and simply looked at her. The
spotlight flashed glittering highlights on the tightly-
defined, perspiration-dampened body. Her lips were pressed
tightly together in grim determination. Was that a slight
tremor he heard in her breathing?
Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not.
"Freda," he spoke aloud for the first time, "I am going to
call you by your given name during this scene. You will, when
necessary to speak, refer to me as "Sir". Do you understand?"
Some moments pause before she responded, "Yes. . . . Sir."
Gerald had expected her to play it this way. He'd spoken with
a pair of dominants, one male, one female, who had overseen
Freda's previous two mandatory switch scenes. She always did
what was ordered, but always as slowly as she thought she
could get away with and usually with a certain degree of
disdain. "Freda, since you just might need to use it this
day, I want you to speak your safe word aloud for me and for
the audience."
"Bastard," she whispered, "I will never safe word to you. You
can't go far enough here at this place to make me safe word."
But then she obeyed. "Sir, my safe word is 'baby'." Gerald
had personally chosen the safe word, too.
At his signal, Dina, in the role of assisting submissive,
wheeled out a cart with his chosen tools laid out for him.
Then, he stepped right up to Freda and jerked the blindfold
off her. It took a moment for her eyes to clear in the sudden,
unexpected glare of the single spotlight, but Gerry knew
precisely when she recognized who was standing in front of
her.
"She didn't know." Gemma whispered to Alex and Mary. "She had
the right to know who had been assigned to work her, but she
didn't even care enough to ask. Wonder if she cares now?"
Gemma's face carried a look of supreme self satisfaction. Her
off-the-record investigation of Freda had turned up a great
deal of information, but nothing she could take to the
Council. That did not mean, however, that Gemma was going to
let her get way with what she'd done. Justice, she mused,
comes in many forms and definitions. The most basic of which,
however, starts with "an eye for an eye." Maybe Gerry would
appreciate the symbolism with an arse for an arse. She'd have
to mention it to him later.
"You!" Freda gasped. A moment's fear tickled its way down her
spine as she stared into the face of the man she had knowingly
denied the most basic protections of the Cabal.
"Me." Gerry agreed quietly. He saw and reveled in the panicky
fear in her face, and part of him knew he should feel ashamed
of that pleasure. And he would be . . . almost ashamed . .
. later. Smiling now, Gerry dropped his voice into a whisper.
"And I would not be so certain about not needing your safe
word, Freda. At least, you will be able to use yours and *I*
will honor it."
Gerald moved behind her to his toys and picked up a huge
bottle of baby oil. He began by filling one cupped hand with
the golden-colored fluid before beginning to rub it into
Freda's shoulders. That completed, Gerald poured more into
his hand and repeated the process between her shoulder blades
and down the center of her back.
With painstaking, meticulous care, Gerald anointed every
square inch of exposed skin from Freda's chin down to her
toes. He even rubbed some into the skin exposed by the open-
toed heels she wore. He paid particular attention to her
breasts, especially her nipples, and to her bottom. By the
time he finally set down the bottle, the shimmering light
reflecting off Freda's oiled body danced merrily in time to
her heaving, panting breaths.
Gerald had been careful to arouse Freda with his thorough
massage, using skills and techniques he'd developed in serving
Mistress Mary's pleasure. From the closed eyes and relaxed,
open mouth, he decided that he'd been successful in that goal.
Every muscle that had once been taut with tension was now
pliantly loose with pleasure.
It was time for phase two.
Gerald rolled the handcart from behind her to a place where
she could see what it held. The relaxation died immediately
as she recognized the items he'd chosen to use on her. With
the showmanship of a silent movie star, Gerald held up an
enema bulb to display to the crowd and to Freda, before he
began filling it with the remaining oil. He affixed the
nozzle and set that aside.
Then he picked up an adult disposable diaper and set that
alongside the enema bulb. Laughter rippled throughout the
room as everyone recognized his intent. Some even knew what
she had done to him and approved of his apparent plan for
Freda.
The laughter broke away the first chink out of Freda's
reserve. They were laughing at *her* and no one EVER laughed
at Mistress Freda.
Only she wasn't Mistress Freda just then, but she would be
again, just as soon as she showed this stupid little man-sub
how ineffectual his plans really were. She would get past
this. She promised herself.
Her resolve lasted only until Gerald pulled out his next
implement.
He had a cane. One identical to the one she had beaten him
with months ago. Gripping it firmly in his right hand, he
walked over to stand to her left side and just a bit behind
her.
She felt the cool, hard rod come to rest gently across the
rounded cheeks of her ass. Freda closed her eyes against what
she knew was next, but it didn't come. He just held it there,
sliding it back and forth across the slick, oily moons.
"Ya know," Gerry said conversationally to his audience, "I
have never used one of these before, although I do have more
than a passing acquaintance with the other side of the thing."
With a sudden flick of his wrist, he snapped the rod sharply
into the tense ass flesh. "Seems to me, that this is a great
time to experiment."
A chorus of laughing agreement sounded in response.
"Unfortunately, she is clenching on me. Her ass is so hard,
she might not even feel it if I gave her my best shot. Well, I
did some research about that and found out about something
called "figging"." Gerry pulled a plastic sandwich bag out of
his pocket and held it up for Freda and his audience to see.
"Fresh ginger, carved into the shape of a butt plug."
Freda began to fight as Gerald started to slip the burning
plug in between her cheeks, but she had no where to go. A
squeal of indignant dismay signaled the seating of the spicy
toy in her seat.
The fiery oils began to do their painful work almost
instantly. Freda couldn't expel it and she couldn't bear to
squeeze down on it to clench her bottom cheeks tightly against
the cane. "Oh, I know that hurts, but that is why I saved
some of the baby oil - just to soothe your insides. I am even
going to diaper you so you won't leak on the floor." Then he
dropped his voice back to a whisper. "That is the reason for
the latex panties, Freda, so you can go poo-poo in your
diedees and not get a nasty little vaginal infection. Get
ready to go to hell, bitch."
Everyone seemed to move onto the edge of their seats as Gerald
lowered Freda's arms and then tied them to the feet of the
cart which would serve as a whipping block. The enema bulb
was right beside her head on one side, while the diaper was on
the other. She realized that she was surrounded by the
implements of her defeat, and for the first time, she doubted
herself and her resolve. Surely the membership wouldn't let
him do to her what she had done to him? Surely, she could
handle this.
Gerald recovered the cane and again rested it on his target.
Freda closed her eyes, and tried to somehow "suck in" her
bottom, to get it away from what she knew was coming. But the
action caused her gluteal muscles to contract, squeezing fresh
oils from the ginger and renewing the chemical fire in her
bottom. And the rod stayed against her anyway. Defeated, she
relaxed her bottom.
God, she really couldn't handle this.
"Ready?" he asked, and Freda's mind shouted "NO!", but the
cane was moving before he'd even finished that one word
question. Before she could give voice to her last thought.
The cane lashed at its target with buzzing sound and landed
with a loud "thwack".
"BABBBBBYYYYY!!!!" Freda screamed in broken humiliation.
"Please, doooonnnn't. BABY!"
Gerald set the cane down and moved back in front of his
tormenter. "Very well, Freda, *I* acknowledge and honor *your*
safe word. The scene is over." He looked over at Dina.
"Free her, Dina. Once she is free, she can remove the fig
herself. If she wants the enema, she can use it and expel it
here on stage or not at all."
Loud applause filled the auditorium as Gerald made his way
toward the table where his love sat waiting for him. He
started to kneel, but Mary caught him and pulled him into a
tight hug. "You are a registered dominant for this whole
weekend, love, no kneeling allowed."
"At least not in public," Gemma chimed in. "Well done, Gerry.
I think old Freda is going to remember this for a long, long
time. And you did not let your natural animosity toward her
lead you to do anything wrong. It was a lovely little scene."
"Whatever" Gerry said diffidently. "Can we go to our room
now?" he asked Mary. "I feel the need to be "out of public."
Mary grinned. "Of course, Sir," she chirped. "There's just
one small problem I need to apprize you of."
*Sir??* what the hell was that all about?, Gerry thought.
"And that problem is?"
"Well." Mary smiled up at him. "You are registered as a
dominant, and I registered as a switch, remember?" He slowly
nodded. Still, confused. "Well, Gemma just told me there are
too many switches this weekend and they are going to have to
make some more subs to balance out the number registered as
dominants. First come, first serve, and I wasn't nearly
first." They'd delayed their arrival as long as possible.
Gerry because he did not want to have anything to do with
Gemma's plans for Freda and Mary because she was trying to
talk him out of doing it at all.
"What does that mean?" he asked, starting to be suspicious.
"It means I have to be a sub, and since this is an "all subs
submit to all dominants" weekend, if you don't hurry up and
leash me, someone else might snap me up."
"Like me," Alex added.
"Like hell." Gerry responded as he caught a mass of straps
Gemma tossed him. It was a leash and collar. "You are sure?
We could just leave. I've done what I had to do."
Mary snatched the collar, put it around her throat before all
but slapping the looped end of the leash back into his hand.
"At the risk of topping from the bottom, my love. DON'T YOU
DARE EVEN THINK ABOUT SUCH A THING!" She slid slowly into his
lap and cuddled him lasciviously, her bottom wiggling
teasingly against his growing erection. "Little Mary wants to
play, Sir," she whispered huskily into his ear before taking a
sharp nip at his lobe.
Laughing now, Gerald caught her hands and gently fastened the
collar himself before connecting the leash. "Well, I guess I
have a scene already figured out, and I figure you are far
braver than that Freda-bitch."
Mary's eyes went wide as she took his implication. Her gaze
darted over to the stage where a very chastened Freda tried to
soothe away the fires from the hot oils still licking at her
insides. Then she swallowed very hard and looked back to
Gerry. "I hope I am, Sir."
"Oh, I didn't mean that, love." Gerald said as he rose, leash
in hand. "Tell me, dear, are you at all . . . ticklish? I
know this lady who has these *really* fantastic feathers."
End and a New Beginning
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