“That dream you had that you don’t want anyone to know about? I make those come true.”
Friday morning, 23 October 2015
GM: The next day, Anna calls the superintendent’s office and asks to schedule a meeting with the man. Sylvia listens over speaker mode.
The woman she speaks to, the superintendent’s secretary, tells Anna to pound sand. Her contract is through the year. They don’t care her life was threatened. Go back to work.
Victoria: When they’re told to fuck off, Sylvia has Anna claim irrecoverable, emotional damage, and educates her on playing the part.
GM: The woman tells Anna to pound sand. Again.
They have all the power and don’t care about her plight.
“I guess why would they,” Anna glumly remarks after hanging up. “It’s a hassle to replace a teacher midway through the year…”
Victoria: Sylvia pulls out her laptop, leaving Anna’s quip unanswered. She types in the public school district’s website, looking for information on the superintendent.
GM: She finds the address for his office easily enough. It’s in the
The superintendent, Leonard Weiss, has a photo and biography posted. It’s essentially a puff piece lauding his “extensive administrative experience,” “long-term strategic planning,” and “crucial leadership” that “raised the bar for classroom teaching and evaluation, resulting in significant performance gains among low-income students.” It reads like he’s the best thing to happen to New Orleans public schools since sliced bread.
Anna remarks it’s interesting how the piece never says he taught in a classroom.
Victoria: Sylvia calls Weiss’ secretary back. She is polite, to start. She’s kind to the woman, stating the urgency of Ms. Perry’s departure from the school district.
GM: The annoyed secretary tells her to pound sand too.
NOLA’s public charter system, Sylvia is keenly reminded, is a for-profit business enterprise. Its goal is to make money. Anna’s resignation and replacement will cost them money. They don’t care if they squeeze the life out of her to save a few bucks.
It’s all about the bottom line.
Victoria: Sylvia reminds them that their inability to provide a safe environment will cost them a bottom line if they take them to court.
Or, they could just let Anna go.
GM: Anna is paid shit, says Weiss’ secretary.
They’d like to see her file a lawsuit.
Victoria: Sylvia is not paid shit, and will see them burnt to the ground and nailed to a cross before Anna steps foot in that school again.
GM: The woman grudgingly says she’ll schedule Sylvia for a meeting with the superintendent. Anna doesn’t have to go in to work until then.
Victoria: Sylvia wishes her a blessed day and thanks her for her time. She’s never sounded more poisonously sweet.
Friday afternoon, 23 October 2015
GM: The NOPD, at least, is much faster getting results. Derek texts her, then meets her to pick up the cash. He says the boys have been arrested, including for the charge of assaulting a public officer, and are awaiting their arraignment and sentencing “somewhere that’s not much fun.” He expects a judge to be unsympathetic and to drive a harsh plea bargain.
Victoria: She meets the man, bringing the requisite amount plus $250 “for his hard work”. It never hurts having an officer on your good side, and that little sum paid forward might warm him to future prospects—or to going easy if she finds herself on the opposite side.
GM: Derek grins, shakes her hand, and says it’s been a real pleasure doing business. Call him anytime.
Saturday afternoon, 24 October 2015
GM: Like everyone, he fills out her online form.
His Location is New Orleans/Local.
His Duration is One Hour.
He describes himself as a “a police officer.” His spelling and grammar are riddled with errors. His language is simplistic and unimaginative, like a middle schooler’s book report.
His Time of Day Preference is Flexible.
His Day of Week Preference is Weekends.
Under Interests, he says wants her to be a “mommy domme” and strict with him, but “nice” when he does well. He also likes spanking and getting hit.
He doesn’t specify much else. He seems like a very poor writer, if his form submission is anything to go by.
He specifies no hard limits.
He provides a Facemash profile link. He has no references in the BDSM community.
But it’s been a slower week, and cash is cash.
Victoria: It feels like every week is a slow week, but the more she works, the more she builds rapport with clients, the faster the slow weeks quicken.
Still, this is a slow week. It’s allowed her more time to spend with Anna, but she still needs an income to eat.
So she accepts. Ordinarily, she prefers to go for the smarter applicants—often discernible by proper typing and wording indicative of as much—but money is money, and marketing is marketing.
And power is power. Knowing a police officer is helpful.
At the appointed time, Sylvia—Victoria—waits upon a sofa by the door to her humble working dungeon, a simple home converted to the darker plush aesthetic of gothic blacks and sanguines, dressed in one of several outfits she owns or the occasion.
As the number and variety of clients she’s taken have increased, she’s needed to acquire a proportional variety of outfits to suit the tastes. Today: leather pants, a corset, and heeled boots whose click heralds her danger as much as being stepped on.
GM: The smarter ones are more fun, too. They usually the more elaborate fantasies and detailed instructions.
Then again, sometimes it’s fun to have a free hand.
Per her instructions, at least, the doorbell rings.
Let it not be said the police officer can’t follow instructions.
Victoria: Victoria Wolf opens the door, gesturing the man inside.
“Hey there. Jordan?”
GM: Jordan Ratcliff is a long-limbed and lanky man with short dark hair and unremarkable facial features. His face isn’t an ugly one, but he’s got residual acne scarring and a five o’ clock that’s several hours short of five. It’s the sort of face that looks handsome after drinks. He’s casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
He takes in Victora’s leather-clad and booted form.
His eyes take a minute to leave her breasts, pushed forward as they are by the corset.
“Yeah. That’s me,” he says lamely.
He holds out the money.
Her site says to discretely leave tributes by the door.
But at least he’s actually brought the money.
Victoria: Her words are laced with feather-soft pride, supportive and soothing, while her eyes glimmer with warmth. She brings him inside, shutting the door behind him. The moment that click sounds, it’s on.
“I’m so glad you’re home. It’s a special day for you, isn’t it? You know what we do on special days, riiiiight?”
A hand rests on his lower back, rubbing.
GM: “Good things?” smiles Jordan. His eyes move up to her face again at her words and tone. So soft and understanding. He’s already starting to look relieved.
“Can I touch you?”
Her site does say no sex. Even if that’s not always the reality.
Victoria: “Mmmnnn…” she hums, a dramatic flare to her thinking. Her thumb comes to rest on the cleft of his chin, her index finger curled beneath.
“Lots of good things! Touching me?… That depends.”
Not yes. Not no.
Work for it.
She leads him down a hall, into a smaller room painted baby blue, a white sofa large enough for two—or three, squished—against one wall. A paneled closet door is closed adjacent.
“You’re going to pick your favorite outfit, and if you get changed and clean up well, then maybe. Cookie?”
GM: “Yes please,” says Jordan.
He looks like he really wants to touch her. His eyes go to her corset again.
But he opens up the closet.
Victoria: She beams.
“You used your nice words. Good boy.”
She disappears out into the hall, her heels clicking away.
GM: “Thank you… mistress? Should I call you that?”
When she gets back, she finds Jordan dressed in schoolboy uniform. High socks, shorts, white shirt with goofy tie, jacket. All a little short on him, and intentionally so. To make him feel smaller and emphasize he’s not put together and in control like she is.
Thinking back to Anna, the outfit is certainly topical.
Victoria: When she returns, it’s with a plate full of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Her expression, however, crumbles from the beaming well of pride that she held from the moment he entered her home to a more restrained, statuesque irritation.
She clicks her tongue, setting the cookies down.
“Is this how you’ve been taught to dress?”
Her words are just shy of a snap, laced with all the disappointment of a mother who’s told him time and time again.
“Tie crooked. Belt too tight. Socks uneven.”
She makes no comment on the goofy state of the outfit as a whole. He’s a child, after all. No, her comments are focused entirely on every tiny, minuscule fuckup he made in putting it on.
“And your shoes! Make the puppy ears, and wrap them together. The loops should be even.”
The tips of her fingers hit his cheek, not quite a full slap, but certainly a physical outlet of her frustration.
GM: Jordan flinches at the not-quite slap. His face is crestfallen, though Victoria can see he’s getting hard against his parts.
“I’ll do better… mistress? Should I call you that?” he repeats.
He adjusts his tie. Loosens his belt. Raises one sock. Re-ties his shoes.
“Is this better?”
Victoria: “Would a mistress dress you like this? I’m your mommy. You want to make mommy happy, don’t you?”
She doesn’t yet comment on his adjustments.
GM: “Yes, Mommy. I do want to make you happy.”
His face turns a bit red.
Victoria: The same hand comes to rest on his face, patting his cheek. This time, it’s gentle.
“Good boy. That’s much better.”
Her hand traces the line of his jaw, over his throat, and the flat of her palm presses to his chest. She pushes him backward, no more force than a nudge.
When he sits on the sofa behind him, she climbs into his lap, straddling him.
GM: He smiles at the praise.
He falls backwards at the push.
He looks up at her longingly.
He looks like he wants to do nothing more than run his hands along her sides.
Victoria: Her hands clasp around the back of his neck, her forehead pressed to his. Her lips are so close to his that he can smell the cool scent of mint with every word.
“You’ll be good from now on, won’t you?”
She dons an air of concern.
“I don’t want to have to fix your outfit again.”
GM: Jordan’s breath is hot and flushed. His cock is very hard against her.
“Yes, Mommy. I’ll be good. You won’t have to.”
Victoria: She grinds her hips down, the stretch of leather creaking, and only that and a little fabric preventing their coupling.
“Mommy loves when you listen.”
GM: “Mommy can I please touch you,” Jordan whisper-moans. His cock desperately throbs.
Victoria: She chuckles a heady laugh. How they sit, he might be able to reach the skin of her breast if he reaches his tongue far enough.
“So hasty, baby. Don’t you want a cookie?”
She reaches over to the side table, retrieving the plate. Her hips never leave his groin.
She places it between his lips.
“Now now. Don’t. Drop. A crumb.”
GM: Jordan, she is certain, is amply aware of that fact.
“Yes, Mommy. Please,” he says. The longing in his eyes looks little abated.
“Bu-I wi’ wi’ou a play-” he tries to get out past the cookie in his mouth, eyes now wide at her commanding tone.
She cups a hand below his chin, giggling when crumbs dribble onto her palm.
“Careful! Don’t make a mess.”
GM: So he does his best.
He really looks like he does.
He chews and eats the cookie.
But without a plate, crumbs are inevitable.
He looks crestfallen.
Victoria: She kisses his nose.
“Precious,” she says, tipping the crumbs into his mouth. She’s strict, but she isn’t unfair.
Unless he drops the crumbs from her palm.
GM: He tries.
Again, he looks like he really does.
But some crumbs spill and get over his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Mommy…” he apologizes, plaintively.
Victoria: The look of bemusement he sees wouldn’t look out of place on a nun who caught two girls kissing.
Her hand snaps to his face, squeezing his cheeks so hard that he has difficulty speaking. The other hand snaps to his crotch.
“Do you like disappointing me?”
Both now squeeze.
“Do you not want your reward? I don’t think you do. I said, quite clearly: No. Fucking. Crumbs.”
GM: “I-’m s-ry-M-my,” Jordan tries to get out.
He looks so disappointed.
He looks just like a little boy being caught leaving a mess.
Would he cry, if she pushed?
Victoria: She gets up off his lap, snapping her fingers.
“Clean. It. Up. Lick those crumbs up!”
GM: Jordan looks unsure, and terrified for a moment, then runs his hands along his crumb-laden shirt and licks them.
“Like this, Mommy…?”
Victoria: “Good boy.”
There’s no warmth in those words.
GM: “Thank you, Mommy.”
Victoria: Victoria shakes, seemingly with anger, and brings a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She breathes a centering breath, and calms herself.
“You upset me, Jordan. You upset Mommy so much. So much correction. So, so very much.”
GM: Jordan scrambles off he couch, getting to his knees before her.
“I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
Victoria: She breathes a shallow, shuddering breath. Her foot presses to his chest, pushing him back against the sofa. Oh, that heel; he can feel it digging into his ribs.
GM: He obediently leans down, kissing the tip of her boot. Some blush creeps into his cheeks.
Victoria: She pushes that boot up to his throat, firm, but not strong.
“Like you mean it. You call that an apology?”
GM: Jordan plasters his mouth to the leather, running sloppy kisses up and down its length. His redness deepens.
“I’m sow-wy, Mommy,” he gets out.
Victoria: “I don’t _believe you!”_
The toe of her boot presses to his mouth.
GM: He takes it into his mouth, sucking back and forth on that pointed toe. She’d say it’s like a cock, but to him it feels more like a breast.
m sowwy!” he gargles out.
Victoria: Her foot settles back to the floor, her anger settling to a simmer.
Her voice is almost pensive. “You’re sure you’re sorry, Jordan? You know I don’t like when you make me discipline you, but Mommy has to make sure you grow up to be a good man.”
She sighs and shakes her head.
“So long to go.”
GM: “Please, Mommy,” Jordan begs, face crestfallen as the boot withdraws. “What do I have to do? I want to be good. I do. I want to be good.”
Victoria: “You want to be good?”
She wants to believe him. It’s in her voice, so subtle. But does hse?
GM: “Yes, Mommy,” he repeats. “Honest. Please. Let me be good. Help me be good.”
Victoria: She smiles that fond, motherly smile, tugging the boy to his feet by his collar.
“Tell you what, baby. Why doesn’t Mommy show you what you get when you’re really good? Maybe if you see that, then you’ll be everything Mommy needs you to be. Does that sound fair?”
GM: Jordan smiles widely.
“Yes, Mommy. That’s fair. That’s very fair. I’ll be everything, I will.”
He looks like he wants to touch her more than anything, but keeps his hands down.
Victoria: “Good boy.”
She guides him back to the chair, again settling into his lap, and again pressing her hips down into his groin.
This time, she reaches into a nearby coffee table, pulling out an unmarked bottle. It remains on the table for now.
“Mommy wants you to be big and strong. Don’t you?”
GM: Jordan smiles at those first words and Victoria’s warm tone.
He nods at her question.
“Yes, Mommy, I do.”
He’s in moderately good shape, she’d say.
Victoria: Her hands rest upon his chest, patting him. Then, they part for her own chest, where she unzips the front of her corset. Finally, though she still hasn’t given him permission to touch, he’s at least receiving partial nudity for his abuse.
“Is this what you want, baby?”
GM: He stares as though hypnotized.
“Yes, Mommy. A LOT.”
Victoria: She runs her fingers through the man’s hair, pulling him closer. Her lips press to his forehead, so warm and tender, then he’s pushed downward.
“Come here. Grow big and strong.”
GM: So he does.
He sucks her tits with earnest, hungry vigor, like it’s his mother’s milk he’s sucking. He’s actually not half-bad at all. Victoria can feel her nipples stiffening beneath his lapping tongue.
Victoria: She soothes him, slowing and settling him to to a more patient pace.
“That’s a good boy. Calm… calm…”
While he slobbers away, she reaches behind her back, down between his legs to unzip his fly, pulling his member free. Her fingers are soft as silk against that sensitive skin, gently tugging him what little he needs to come to life.
“Mama’s going to take care of you…”
GM: Victoria doesn’t need to tug him at all. He’s already rock hard. His cock quivers at her touch as his moans deepen, even muted as they are by his mouth around her breast.
Jordan looks like he could stay in this position forever.
Mama taking care of him.
Victoria: And Mama is only going to take care of him more. She reaches over to the table, tipping the bottle against her fingers. When they return to his shaft, it’s with a sudden warm wetness that makes him wonder if she sunk him inside her.
She kisses his hairline.
“Shhh… Just let yourself relax. Let’s get that stress out, huh baby boy?”
GM: ‘Baby boy’ moans and humps against her. Her hand. Her pussy. A fleshlight. Most men can tell what they’re filling, but Jordan seems content with something, anything, to fill. More than content. He thrusts in and out like mad, moaning as he sucks Victoria’s breasts.
She’s not sure if he’s relaxed, but he’s definitely getting that stress out.
Tears leak from his eyes as he pants,
Victoria: Her hands are warm, the lubricant even warmer after sitting on a warming plate. Is he fucking her? Is he fucking her hand? It doesn’t matter. It’s warm, it’s wet, and—for those few minutes—he has everything he wants in the world.
She hushes him, letting him relax.
“Mommy takes care of you, doesn’t she? Relax…”
She shifts her hips, ceasing his thrusting. Where he stops, her slow, spiraling motions take over, attempting to bring that life from his balls.
GM: Jordan moans into her breasts, switching from the right to the left.
He doesn’t look like he wants to stop. But he does. There’s life aplenty in his balls, and in his quavering, precum-leaking cock.
He does what Mommy says.
Victoria: Her back arches, one of her nipples presented to his mouth.
“Close your eyes… That’s a good boy.”
Now that he’s calm, she begins to pump him with more intent.
“You have something of Mommy’s, and Mommy needs it…”
GM: “Y-ess… Momm… y….!” Jordan pants past that nipple.
She can feel his urge to thrust. To fill. But she’s said not to.
And he does so very want to be a good boy.
Victoria doesn’t have to run her hand up and down his shaft for long. He ejaculates with a messy shudder, his seed running over her fingers as he sinks forward against her breasts. Not even tonguing them now. Just resting his face against them like they’re a return, in truth, to his days as a suckling infant. Where all was right in the world, absent whatever trauma or inadequacy has driven him to seek her out.
Victoria can’t know for sure, of course. But she has enough experience to have an ear for such things, especially after he whimpers,
“I… love… you… Mommy…”
As ever, the domme provides the fantasy he’s looking for.
Another day, another dollar.
Sunday afternoon, 25 October 2015
GM: Anna asks Sylvia’s permission over where and how to spend money. She greets her, kneeling, like they discussed.
It’s on the last day of their agreement that she seemingly forgets to.
But Victoria is no stranger to this business.
She recognizes bratting when she sees it.
Anna is curious what will happen.
Victoria: Sylvia shuts the door behind her, returning her keys to her bag and setting it on a small table beside the door. She turns, catching sight of Anna.
She cants her head.
She waits some more.
GM: “Hey Sylvie,” she smiles, approaching her girlfriend for a hug and kiss.
Walking towards, not kneeling.
There’s an impish cast to her eyes. She definitely isn’t just forgetting.
Victoria: Sylvia runs her tongue over the sharp edge of her teeth; an idle, thinking tell, Anna knows.
“I missed you so, so much, Anna.”
She leans in to kiss her.
GM: “You too,” Anna smiles, closing her eyes as she leans in to the kiss.
Victoria: The kiss she gives is far more heated than an expected greeting, her hands wandering lower than a hug would merit.
GM: “Hello to you too,” Anna giggles, but her hands are soon touching Sylvia’s intimate places too. Her tongue explores her girlfriend’s mouth.
Color starts to rise in her cheeks as the pair get going.
Only two days in, they really have been fucking like bunnies.
Victoria: She seizes Anna’s bottom lip between her teeth, as she knows drives her wild, hands coming to her hips. She moves the pair of them back into the room, across the hall and into the bedroom.
GM: Anna doesn’t say “you don’t have to tell me twice.”
She just tugs off Sylvia’s clothes, skin flushed with the heat of desire as they trade further kisses.
Victoria: Sylvia blocks the hand that goes for the button of her shorts, pushing Anna backward with her torso, both wrists in hand. She pins them beside her head, breath hot on her throat.
“Uh… uh… uh…” she hums, as if telling a child no.
GM: “Yes… yes… yes…!” Anna giggles. She playfully struggles at first, but also leans into it, stretching her arms back and her legs forward in an exaggerated ‘come ravish me’ pose.
Victoria: She climbs onto the bed, shimmying her back up toward the headboard. Anna’s lips meet Sylvia’s, this time for a more tender kiss.
“I love you.”
GM: Anna returns it, just as softly, eyes shining up at her.
“I love you, too. With all my heart, since the day we met.”
Victoria: She bites her own lip, looking fondly down at her.
She hops off the bed, running to her closet. Anna can hear boxes shifting around, and then an “ah ha!”
“Close your eyes.”
GM: Anna stays.
“Oooh, getting one of your _toys?”_ she smiles.
She closes her eyes.
Victoria: “Uh huh. Something like that.”
She rolls Anna onto her belly, taking one of her hands. She kisses the palm, so, so tenderly, and wraps a silk scarf around it, tying it at her wrist.
GM: “Kinky!” Anna exclaims, happily.
She wiggles her bottom.
Victoria: She climbs over her, repeating the process for the other wrist. She’s just as soft, and the other hand gets a kiss, too.
Then, she ties each of them to a bed post so her arms are just short of outstretched.
GM: “I like where this is going…” Anna says, breathily. She tugs against the bonds and spreads her legs for Sylvia.
Victoria: “Me too, Anna. Me too.”
She shifts her dress upward, planting a kiss on her of her cheeks, before slipping her panties down to her ankles.
GM: She finds Anna very wet. Her girlfriend tugs against her restraints some more.
Victoria: She parts her cheeks, her tongue tracing the lips below.
“My, my. Someone’s been dreaming of me coming home.”
GM: “A housewife has nothing to do but dream of her breadwinner to come home and ravish her,” Anna sighs.
“Mmm, ‘breadwinner.’ ‘Woman of the house?’ Or how about… ‘mistress?’”
Anna bucks and wriggles her pelvis towards Sylvia’s face.
Anna’s ass turns a pleasant shade of red.
GM: “Eep!” Anna exclaims.
Victoria: Seconds later, Sylvia’s nails trace and trail over that reddened skin.
GM: “Eech!” Anna exclaims at that, with somewhat less comfort. But she doesn’t use the safe word.
Victoria: “You, my love, are so forgetful…”
Those nails feel like razors against reddened, sensitive skin.
GM: “Ahhh!” Anna squirms. “What’d I forget!”
Victoria: She spanks her again, this time on the other cheek.
GM: Anna gives another yelp. “I’m sorry I didn’t kneel!”
“It’s so pretty when it turns this red.”
GM: “Ack! I’m sorry I didn’t kneel! Mistress!”
Victoria: Anna feels the soft skin of her fingers rub that red mark. She doesn’t answer.
GM: Anna whimpers.
“I’m sorry I wanted to see what you’d do…!”
Victoria: She presses her lips to that new red mark, so tender, so loving.
GM: Anna sighs with relief.
Victoria: “But now I’m having fun.”
This time, the spank is more gentle; a spark, but not a fire.
GM: “Eep!” Anna giggles, wiggling her rear. “I’ve learned my lesson!”
Victoria: Sylvia crawls up the bed, burrowing under Anna’s arm to lay below her.
GM: “Yes. Promise. I’ll be a good girl.”
Victoria: “Uh huh.”
She doesn’t believe her.
GM: “You don’t think I’m good?”
Victoria: “Oh, you’re good…”
GM: “I’m very good! The goodest!”
Anna wriggles against her bonds.
“Are you going to untie me?”
Victoria: She presses their lips together, fingers wrapping her hair about her fist to keep her in place.
GM: “But you said I was good…” Anna whines.
She tries to give Sylvia a kiss.
Victoria: Anna feels a finger slip between the lips that aren’t being kissed.
“If you complain, I’ll stop and leave you here.”
GM: “…yes, mistress,” says Anna.
She gives a softer whine.
Victoria: Her touches below are soft; more explorative than carrying intent to pleasure her.
“Say it again,” she purrs.
GM: “Yes, mistress,” Anna breathes, clearly savoring that touch.
Victoria: A finger disappears inside her, curving up and in toward that special spot inside her.
“Say it again. Again. Tell me every thought in your head.”
GM: Anna gives a little gasp of pleasure.
“Mistress. Mistress. I… wanted to see what you’d do…”
“I was bad, but I’ll be good…”
Victoria: The more she talks, the more Sylvia tries to turn those subtle touches into a drive for warmth in her cheeks.
GM: She amply succeeds. Anna is very warm. She squirms against her bonds, calls her mistress all sorts of delightful things, and tries to drive herself deeper into Sylvia’s fingers. She’s soon a shuddering, needful mess on the verge of cumming.
Victoria: Every time Anna thrusts herself downward, begging more of that gratuitous touch, Sylvia retracts her fingers just as much. She keeps Anna there, pushing her forward little by little, making her fight that instinct to seek her own pleasure. No, Anna gets what she deserves; what Sylvia deigns to give her.
As she approaches that precipice, Sylvia pulls her fingers out and brings them to her own mouth. She savors each one, leaving the beast atop her starving before a plate of raw meat.
GM: It’s so frustrating.
To thrust deeper, every time she gets closer, and get rewarded with less. Maddening.
But little by little, she gets closer. Until Sylvia stops. Anna whines and pulls against her bonds. She’s red-faced, sweating, and dripping like mad between her legs.
“Please… please… let me cum… mistress…!” Anna blubbers. She looks so frustrated. Like she could cry.
Still, she doesn’t use the safe word.
Victoria: The barest touch brushes her clitoris, engorged and begging for attention.
Consideration, but no answer.
GM: Anna gives a high-pitched whine.
Victoria: “I could hold you here…”
A kiss to her jawline.
To her chin.
To her lips.
“Left in purgatory…”
GM: Anna really does look like she could cry. Her breath is hot and ragged. She’s so close. Sylvia’s touch, even the barest brush against her clit, is like lightning through her body.
“PLEEE-AAASE…!” she begs, bonds strained to their utmost.
Victoria: She whispers in her ear, her breath hot as fire.
“…I could get a toy. I could make you feel so full. I could use my tongue.”
Her touch is just a little heavier, fingers sliding to either side of that node.
“I know you love it when I suckle on it just the littlest bit until you’re close, then take it in my mouth and overwhelm you.”
She pauses, just to let her suffer.
“I think you’re already overwhelmed. Maybe we should start over.”
GM: Every breath against Anna’s hot skin seems to draw another ragged pant.
It’s Sylvia’s touch that makes her scarlet-faced, sweating, and mad-eyed lover look ready to scream.
Oh, yes. She’s suffering. Sylvia loves to see them like this. Taken right to the edge. Where all they can think about is release, every other thought purged from their mind, and they know Sylvia has the power. She is God to them, at this moment. They will say anything, do anything, agree to absolutely anything. Putty in her hands.
Anna throws back her head and screams, eyes moist from her frustration.
Victoria: Her fingers disappear. For a moment, Anna might wonder if she’s really going to keep her in that hellish state.
She climbs out from under her, resituating herself behind her lover. Using her hands, she guides Anna to lift her hips into a kneeling position, then presses her torso to the bed.
She can feel Sylvia’s breath on her lips. Only her breath.
GM: Anna obeys without thought, on purely unconscious instinct, her eyes mad and inflamed with desire.
Victoria: She presses her face to her sex, pulling the skin down from her clitoris, and pulls it into her mouth. There’s not more talking. There’s not more teasing. There’s only Anna’s frenetic brain, a flood of too many hormones, and the fact that Sylvia is doing her best to cause a short circuit in her brain.
GM: It feels like Sylvia’s tongue has barely even touched Anna’s clit when her lover comes apart. Anna screams as the climax rips through her, every muscle contracting, her juices soaking Sylvia’s face. Anna shudders, twitches, and collapses. She lets out an exhausted pant-like breath.
“M… m… iss… thank… you…” she whimpers, her voice shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Victoria: The flood of fluid soaking her face is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. She doesn’t even clean it off before she kisses Anna.
She unties the girl, pulling her into a spooning side-lay, then tosses a blanket atop them.
Sylvia doesn’t even mention reciprocation. She only holds her, rubs her arm, and hums in her ear.
GM: “Mmmm…” Anna murmurs dreamily. She curls up against Sylvia, laying a head on her side.
She doesn’t speak for several moments, just breathes and… well, recovers.
“I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard…”
Victoria: “There’s something to be said for being restrained…” she purrs into the woman’s throat.
GM: Anna laughs faintly.
“What’s it you like… about this?”
Victoria: Her words are a dreamy song.
“Does it need… an explanation?”
GM: Anna rubs her head against Sylvia.
“No… but I’d like to hear yours.”
Victoria: “I’m not sure you’ll understand, but you might appreciate it from outside the window,” she answers after a thought.
“There’s something… powerful; addictingly so. You take someone—a brilliant, kind person, full of hopes and dreams, full of life and love—and you reduce them to a quivering, begging mess. For as long as I have them, they’re not their own person anymore. They’re mine. They’re a pet. They’re reduced to the sum of their animalistic urges, no more than a hungry dog.”
She kisses behind her ear. Anna isn’t that anymore. The moment’s passed.
“And then… once all is done, they’re at the peak, and they look down and wonder at the journey that got them there. Sometimes they blush. Sometimes they grin. Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they regret it. Sometimes they deny, and cast blame seated in anger. Yet… they’re all there, and they don’t forget the experience. Neither do I.”
“…though, I’m not quite as vulgar with my clients as with you.”
GM: Anna laughs faintly.
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That helps me understand, though. What you like about it. Having power.”
“I thought about using the safe word,” she says. “I was, well, you could see how close. I absolutely had to get off.”
“But I just thought… I’ll trust you, and see how this turns out.”
“And, plus, the safe word’s for if you’re being hurt. Not just denied something you want. Right?”
Victoria: “Exactly! You can’t use the safe word to make me finish you. Only to make me stop what I’m doing and let you out of restraints, and I will always let you out without question.”
GM: “I think that makes it even more exciting, that I can’t make you finish me…”
Victoria: Another kiss lands in her hair.
“On my very first interview with Chakras, they taught me a lesson that I’ve held close to my heart every day since. It applies to more than just the BDSM world. The goal of a dominatrix is to push their clients beyond their comfort; to experience new sensations, and to learn to become in touch with the creature inside them that only comes out when all sentient thought is left behind. Your safe word should always be just out of reach, held just so that your fingertips can only brush it. If you’re uncomfortable or in mild pain, you’ll stretch for it, but your fingers will only push it away. Only when it burns so sharply that you jerk your hand forward as if from a hot stove will you grasp it. That is when you should use it.”
GM: “That’s beautiful,” Anna smiles at her description. “Seriously, what a beautiful way to put it! You’re an artist with words at describing BDSM. You make it sound like so much more than just a way to get your rocks of…”
Victoria: She nudges her belly, fingers spidering as she tickles her.
“So! Let me push you!”
GM: Anna breaks off giggling under Sylvia fingers.
Victoria: “All these years and you didn’t know I have a tickling fetish!”
She’s relentless. Lucifer, watch out.
GM: “Ahhgh-ghh-ghh! Aieeep! Noooo!”
The already breathless Anna is soon doubly so under Sylvia’s relentless fingers. She sues for peace and pardon.
Victoria: The only pardon she gets is a heated Sylvia atop her, kissing her as if it is the last night they’ll both see each other alive.
GM: Anna returns those kisses with equal vigor, and soon the two are lying in one another’s arms again, breathless and warm-cheeked, seemingly content to let the moment last forever.
“This was fun,” says Anna.
“These past two days, that is. Trying things out.”
She looks at Sylvia and smiles.
“What do we do next?”
Victoria: She cants her head. She’s not going to tell her that it’s polite to return affection given, but it’s pretty plain in her expression that something is missing.
“What do you want to do?”
GM: “I’m asking for you, too,” Anna says in response to that look and cant.
“Besides make you feel as good as I just did? I want to follow your lead.”
“I like where that’s taken us.”
Victoria: “You want me to tell you what I want you to do for me…?” she asks, a dangerous glint in her eye. Uh oh.
GM: “You like being in charge, don’t you?” Anna asks innocently.
Victoria: She smiles that crooked smile.
“Go into the closet. Pick something out. My command is your partial choice. I’ll teach you how to use it, and… if you don’t perform well, well…”
Anna returns with a riding crop and a flogger.
Victoria: Sylvia is laying back against the pillows, waiting.
“Decisions, decisions, decisions…”
GM: Anna selects the crop and lightly smacks its end against her palm.
Victoria: Sylvia actually shivers.
GM: “You’re a deviant,” smirks Anna. “And you weren’t helpful deciding. So you’re gonna get _punished.”_
There’s a louder, crisper smack.
Victoria: A larger chill rips through her, and she bites her lip.
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t reach to remove her clothing. This is all Anna.
GM: “Grrrr!” says Anna, raising the crop. She makes a face.
It could be fierce.
Or it could be cute.
Victoria: “You are like a little cub growling at her mother,” she chides. “Come on. Prove me wrong.”
GM: Anna smacks her palm with the crop again.
“Take off your clothes, young lady. You’re in trouble now.”
Victoria: Every time that clap sounds, Anna jumps or shivers, as if she’s been trained. Pavlov’s riding crop.
She sinks her thumbs into her jeans, but before she shimmies them at all, she stops.
GM: She receives an abrupt swat with the crop to her backside.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, young lady!”
It’s not the most adroitly placed, but it does leave a sting.
Victoria: Sylvia yips! Even through denim shorts, she can feel the familiar sting, though it’s more the promise of it and the memories it surfaces than the pain itself that gets her moving.
She unbuttons her shorts, shifting them down with her thumb. Her underwear does little to cover her rear, but she doesn’t move to remove it.
GM: “No initiative,” Anna says critically. “This must be why your grades are so poor.”
She swats Sylvia’s hip.
Victoria: Sylvia yelps!
The look she gives Anna is the same as if a man walked in and claimed to be Jesus, and she’s just as happy as if it was true.
Her underwear disappears.
“No teaching the teacher, huh?”
GM: Anna touches the crop to Sylvia’s chin.
“Poor grades. Repeated phone calls and emails with your parents. Placement in Learning Strategies. IEP. So many extra credit opportunities and classroom accommodations. And so many assignments still not even turned in.”
The crop critically taps against her cheek several times.
“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
Victoria: IE… P?
She looks lost.
“B—but… I’m sorry, Ms. Perry.”
She even looks sorry, though it only looks skin deep. Sylvia lifts her hips, offering herself to the teacher.
“It’s so boring! I don’t want to do homework!”
GM: “No, no, no,” says Anna. “You know what school is, young lady? Practice for life. And in life we have to do all sorts of things we don’t want to do. Someone who can’t buck up to that is a _child.”_
The crop delivers a hard, fast swat to Sylvia’s backside.
Victoria: She whimpers as the crop strikes her, her heart thumping inside her chest. What the hell?! What happened to Anna May Perry?!
“I—I’ll be a good girl! Promise!”
GM: The crop lightly taps against Sylvia’s swatted flesh.
“Did you know that corporal punishment is still legal in Louisiana schools?”
Victoria: “Is th-that why Louisiana has the best students?”
“Ms. Perry, I’ve been a bad student. I understand. I need to be punished.”
GM: The crop swats Sylvia’s flank again.
“Minus five!” says Anna.
“No, that’s wrong. Louisiana has some of the worst performing students in the country. And you’re one of them!”
“I think you’re the worst performing student I’ve ever had.”
She sits down on the edge of the bed and pats her lap.
“Over my knee, young lady. Bottom up.”
Victoria: She begins to cry.
“I’m s-sorry, Ms. Perry!”
Reluctantly, she clambers to the edge of the bed, resting atop Anna’s lap chest-down.
“I’ll be a better student!”
GM: “I suppose we’ll just see,” says Anna, rubbing her struck bottom.
“Here’s how this is going to work. For every wrong answer, you get a spank. For every right answer, you get something nice.”
“We’ll start off easy,” she says, rubbing Sylvia’s bottom. “Now… what year was New Orleans founded?”
Victoria: The domme appears completely defeated. She hasn’t just given up. She wants to give up. What a role reversal!
She swallows, nervous.
“Please don’t hit me! I… 1803!”
GM: There’s a pause.
“That is the single WORST answer I have ever heard from a student!”
Victoria: “I’m s-s-sorry, Ms. Perry! I’m s-sorry!”
GM: “New Orleans was founded in 1718. That was such a bad answer we’re keeping your score in the negatives, now.”
“-1, young lady. You have a hole to dig your way out of.”
Victoria: “Y-yes Ms. Perry!”
Chakras has nothing on this.
GM: “Now, let’s try something else, since dates don’t seem to be your forte. New Orleans has been ruled by what three countries?”
Victoria: She swallows. Fuck, why didn’t shy pay more attention in class? Who knew it would come back to bite her—spank her—years later.
“Uh-uhm… France, and… the United States, and…”
GM: Anna rubs her bottom.
Victoria: She whimpers.
GM: “Very good. You’re at zero now.”
Victoria: “Thank you, Ms. Perry!”
GM: “Benjamin F. Butler, the Union general who oversaw New Orleans’ occupation during the Civil War, was nicknamed ‘Spoons.’ Why was this?”
Victoria: Oh, fuck. This is a hard one.
She can feel the warmth rising in that reddened skin, rushing to treat the wounds. She can feel the looming crop, hovering just above, ready to strike. She can feel Anna grinning down at her, reveling in that reversal.
“H-he… he made his soldiers dig a trench with nothing but spoons!”
GM: There’s a sharp swat to her backside.
Victoria: She yelps!
GM: “And you know what else that wrong answer is, young lady?”
There’s a second, even sharper swat to her reddened backside.
“It’s DOUBLE wrong! You can’t dig trenches around New Orleans! It’s why we don’t have basements either!”
Victoria: Her backside is bristling against the cool air of the apartment!
“Wh—what’s… the answer?”
GM: “Because he was accused of stealing silverware from the homes of wealthy citizens. He wasn’t a very popular man in the city.”
Anna rubs Sylvia’s reddened skin.
“Let’s try something easier. What are the three colors of Mardi Gras?”
Victoria: What the fuck? Come on, Sylvia! You can’t be so frazzled from this that you can’t remember the colors of fucking Mardi Gras!
Yet, she is.
“Red… and, uhm… green, and… yellow!”
She’s indistinguishable from a tomato.
GM: “I’m sorry, young lady, is your calendar wrong? Do you think it’s December to be telling me red and green?”
Victoria: “I wish Santa came at the same time as Mardi Gras!”
GM: There’s a lighter swat.
Victoria: Sylvia snickers.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be a distracting student.”
GM: “You’re hopeless,” sighs Anna, some of the authoritative tone slipping.
“Now. Describe, in brief, New Orleans’ involvement in the War of 1812.”
She hasn’t been asked a question like that since the longform essay of her junior-year high school history exam!
Well, if Anna wants to be a brat…
“Ms. Perry,” she begins with a sudden confidence that’s indubitably telling, “we armed ourselves against the negro menace to prevent a hostile usurpation of the white man’s breeding rights. If not for those brave 1,812 souls who defended the sanctity of our bodies, why, you and I might just be plugged into a zoo somewhere carrying children of all colors of the ethnic rainbow.”
GM: Sylvia receives two very sharp smacks against her already reddened, sensitive skin for that.
Anna doesn’t need to say ‘double wrong.’
Victoria: She receives a double yelp in return.
“Uhm… do you still want an answer?”
GM: There’s a third sharp swat.
“How do you address me, young lady?”
Victoria: “Ms. Perry.”
GM: “I suppose that depends. Do you still want a chance at getting off?”
“You seemed so unhappy I didn’t reciprocate.”
Victoria: Truthfully, Sylvia can be left unsatisfied right now and not complain. Anna is showing a side of her that she’s never seen before, and that she prays will be making a return.
But that won’t be fun for either of them!
“Pleeeease, Ms. Perry,” she mewls, rolling only enough to look back at her. “Would you give me just one more chance? I promise I’ll be the best student you’ve ever had!”
GM: “Okay, ONE more, for the one question you got right,” says Anna.
“1812. Real answer?”
Victoria: She draws a breath, already preparing for the inevitable swat. Sylvia is bright when it comes to her field and interests. Unfortunately, that does not overlap Anna’s specialty.
“It was… when the British came back, and they got fussy about who owns what in the United States.”
GM: “I asked what New Orleans’ involvement was,” reminds Anna.
GM: Anna rubs her reddened ass cheeks.
“Oh, so sad.”
Victoria: The domme breathes a pathetic whine. In all her years at Chakras, in all the games they’d played after hours, she never fell quite this hard into her submissive side. Anna truly is a magical teacher.
“…please. Please. You can hit me all you want, just don’t leave!”
GM: “I don’t know, I’ve already hit you a lot of times,” says Anna, rubbing her tender cheeks.
“I think it’s lost its novelty.”
Victoria: She looks back at her, her internal gears turning. Anna’s never seen her this desperate.
GM: “And you’ve not been able to answer the question. I don’t think there’s much else we can do here.”
Victoria: Her face scrunches up.
“Isn’t there anything I can do?”
GM: “I think you’ve failed out of my class, young lady. You’re getting held back if you don’t want summer school.”
Victoria: “UGH! You mean I’ll have to spend ANOTHER year with you?!”
Anna kisses her head.
“You’re stuck with me.”
Victoria: She rolls a little further, then hugs her.
GM: Anna laughs and hugs her back, rolling into bed with her.
“Okay,” she smiles, “now it is your turn…”
Sunday afternoon, 25 October 2015
GM: Soon, Sylvia knows the same release as her lover, and they both lie spent and satisfied in one another’s arms.
“That was a change of pace,” giggles Anna.
“I think I prefer you in control, though.”
Victoria: She pulls Anna halfway atop her, resting her head against her breast. Idly fingers trace through the teacher’s hair.
“Me too… but it was a nice change of pace. I didn’t know you had that in you!”
GM: Anna wraps her arms around Sylvia, content to lie her head against that breast.
“I was surprised too,” she smiles. “Easier once I stepped into the teacher role, though.”
Victoria: “You will be doing it again…”
“If you’re good.”
“Or if I’m bad.”
GM: “Eh, honestly, I prefer letting you be in the driver’s seat. I have to be the authority figure around kids all day.”
Or at least, did.
Victoria: “I’m your kid. Sometimes. I act like it.”
She suddenly bounces. “Can I have a cookie?!”
GM: Anna laughs faintly.
“I mean, I definitely prefer to be more supportive and instructive than authoritative. But ‘head of the class’ is a hat I wear all day, all the time. I like how I can just… let it all down, around you.”
“I really really like that.”
“This helped put it into perspective.”
Victoria: She trails a finger up her neck, supporting her jaw by the tip. “You know that bag of Oreos in the closet…”
Victoria: That finger taps her chin. She waits.
GM: “Are you asking me as a kid, or telling me as a mistress…?”
Victoria: Tap, tap, tap goes the finger. It is a common gesture when Sylvia doesn’t want to have to say something twice.
GM: “Mmm… have you really put the mistress hat back on, I wonder….” Anna wonders lazily.
Wonders, still from bed.
Victoria: She flicks her nose.
“Cookies, or I’ll put the riding crop away and you’ll never see it again!”
GM: “Mmm… I don’t know… you have so many other toys, and I’m so comfortable here…” Anna sighs blissfully.
The seasoned domme can tell bratting when she sees it.
Victoria: She kisses her chin, then moves to her ear, biting the lobe.
“You know… that thing you love me to do? That thing… I only do when you’re really… really… good…?”
GM: Anna smiles and giggles lightly at the contact.
“Mmm… which thing…?”
Victoria: Her nails trail down the outside of the teacher’s thigh.
“You’re thinking of more than one… there have been a few in the last few days, mmm?”
Victoria knows bratting. If it isn’t stomped out early, it becomes an infestation.
That sultry purr becomes an angry growl.
“I will not do it to you until Christmas if you do not get that fucking bag of cookies.”
GM: “…I pick getting the cookies,” says Anna.
Victoria: Sylvia smiles.
GM: “Lots,” she smiles back, kissing Sylvia’s head.
She slips out of bed, her earlier laziness forgotten, and returns shortly later with cookies.
She makes a show out of kneeling low and proffering them up with raised hands.
Being naked adds to the effect.
Victoria: “Ooooh, this is fitting. I approve.”
“This is how you’ll hand me things for the next week.”
GM: “Yes, mistress,” Anna smirks.
“Do I get a reward…?”
Victoria: “Close your eyes.”
She pulls her back into bed.
GM: Anna smiles and closes her eyes.
Victoria: Sylvia presses a cookie between her lips.
GM: “Mmf.” Anna chews the cookie. “We’ve had sooo much junk food.”
Victoria: She pokes her navel.
“Uh huh. We should be better… but what’s one week?”
GM: “We’ll eat more salad next week.”
They’ll have next week.
And all the time in the world.
Monday evening, 26 October 2015
GM: “So,” Anna says the next evening on the couch together as a movie plays in the playground, “what’s next?”
“We tried out asking permission with money, and kneeling with greetings. What’s next in the whole… lifestyle?”
Victoria: Sylvia doesn’t answer for a while. When she does, it’s with pensive patience to her words.
“There are… what feels like an endless amount of activities to do in the lifestyle. New ideas come up every year. There are more tame activities, like pet play and public play. There are not-so-tame ones like wax and fire play, which require some setup, and shouldn’t be performed by the uneducated. And… There are extremes. Whipping. Real whipping. Knifeplay. Fireplay. Deathplay.”
GM: “I think I’d prefer to start somewhere tamer,” Anna replies, amused.
“Like pet play and public play.”
Victoria: “You mean to tell me, my sweetest love, that you don’t want to have a knife on your throat again?”
She looks obviously faux-hurt.
GM: Anna kisses her cheek.
“The only person I’d trust with a knife at my throat is you, my sweetest love.”
Victoria: She trails a finger across Anna’s throat, gentle, her painted nail the faintest echo of what a knife would be.
“And I’d do you no more harm than appropriate.”
But not none.
GM: “‘No more than appropriate.’ If we’re getting that hot and heavy, take me now,” Anna declares dramatically, baring her throat.
Victoria: Her teeth seize her throat, just above the artery!
GM: “You’re a vampire. Why am I not surprised?” Anna laughs. Sylvia can feel her throat vibrate with each word.
Victoria: “It was me the whole time!” She tugs the flesh, suckling greedily between her teeth.
GM: “How do I taste?”
Victoria: She runs her tongue over the ‘wound’.
“Like last night’s Indian takeout.”
“Seriously, though. What do we want to do next?”
“Activities, and also non-sexual things.”
“Like with the greetings and money.”
Victoria: She drums her fingers on her thigh, thinking.
“There are… hmn…”
What to do, what to do…
She takes Anna’s face in her hands, pressing her lips to her nose.
“How did lending your financial decision making power to me feel?”
GM: Anna smiles at the affection, rubbing her nose back.
“It was… interesting. It felt serious, because it was happening outside of the bedroom.”
“It was kind of a relief.”
“Things had been stressful. I liked just… handing control to someone I knew I could trust.”
Victoria: She nods, assenting.
“The transfer of power is your gift to me, not my theft from you. It’s you conveying authority to me so you don’t have to think about it. Even the little things, we feel some guilt. Should I buy that two-for-one apple pie with my combo? Should I turn my soda into a milkshake?”
“You just have to look at me and ask. So… let’s continue that, hmn? I’ll continue to maintain light control of your finances for now, and we’ll discuss as we go. In addition, you’ll take up some of the more domestic duties here. You’re a fantastic chef, and I’d be a foolish mistress if I didn’t take advantage of that. So, for now, you’ll be making dinner five nights per week.”
She kisses her nose again.
“Remember, my love: the power you grant me is yours to give, and at any moment you can seize it right back. Okay?”
GM: “Okay,” Anna smiles back, nuzzling her nose against Sylvia’s.
“So I keep asking you permission to buy things, and I keep doing the cooking. That sounds good.”
“Is there anything more we could do? This is continuing what we’ve been doing, basically. I’ve already been doing a lot of domestic stuff, since you’re bringing in the money.”
GM: “Yes. That’s the more interesting to me, I think, in some ways.”
“I mean, sex is sex. It’s always fun, there are always ways to spice it up.”
“Non-sexually is… a paradigm shift. It’s something different from what I’ve done, in other relationships.”
“Like with Jeff, the spanking and calling him Daddy was never outside the bedroom. It was always just play.”
Victoria: Tap, tap, tap goes her finger.
“I will expect you to ask permission to leave. After all, you attend to the needs of your goddess, don’t you? You’ll need to be reeeeally sure that it’s safe to leave me alone while I’m at home. If it happens to be that I come home and you’re not here…”
She lets that trail off. The outcome, even this early, is clear.
GM: “…I’m in trouble,” Anna smiles.
Victoria: “Anna, you are and have always been the biggest brat I have ever known, and I love every ounce of it. You’ll have trouble sitting the first month, I imagine.”
Of course, that’s only one way to punish a brat.
GM: Anna smirks and rubs her rear preemptively.
Victoria: “…do you have any limits to declare?”
GM: Anna thinks.
“I don’t like getting insulted or called mean names.”
“I put up with enough put-downs at work.”
Victoria: “Don’t call Anna a bitch. Got it.”
GM: “Yeah. Brat is fine, slut isn’t.”
Victoria: “Well… as they say: you are what you eat.”
She returns to gnawing her throat, this time not quite so hard.
GM: “Mmm… so that literally makes me a pussy, then? Your pussy?” Anna smirks.
Victoria: She earns a blush at that.
“You can’t still be hungry.”
GM: Anna laughs. “I’m ‘full,’ thanks.”
“We just went at it!”
Victoria: “I’m rather enjoying the closeness and conversation…”
GM: “Oh. Uh, scat and pee.”
“Not into that.”
Anna smirks again. “How’s that for closeness?”
Victoria: She flicks an ear.
“I agree with that. No peeing in Anna’s mouth.”
GM: “Anything that’d out me to my family or at work. I don’t think you’d cross that line anyway, but… good communication to bring up, right?”
Victoria: Her eyes widen.
“I will never subject you to anything that would endanger you to your family or jeopardize your career.”
She is deadly serious.
GM: “I know, I didn’t think you would!” Anna assures. “We just talked about public stuff, earlier.”
“Oh. And needles.”
Victoria: “Mhmm, we’ll be very careful not to be caught! Mama and her two boys in the grocery store haven’t consented, sooooo…”
“Yes, no needles.”
GM: “They haven’t consented,” Anna says thoughtfully.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s why I have a problem with people doing dirty things in public. I haven’t asked to see that!”
“I mean, outside of someplace like the Quarter where I’m pretty sure it’ll happen.”
Victoria: “I’m pretty sure at least a few children a week are made there…”
But she doesn’t want to think about fat tourists copulating.
“We’ll be cautious.”
She wraps her in her arms, kissing her hair with a breathy laugh.
“I won’t let my little Anna be found out.”
GM: Anna smiles up at her adoringly.
“And I trust my big Sylvie to keep me safe.”
Wednesday afternoon, 28 October 2015
GM: Sylvia’s appointment with the superintendent rolls around. The contrast between his office and Anna’s literally falling apart school is like night and day. It’s in a nice, modern building in a nice part of town. It looks like a corporate office. No delinquent youths in sight. Sylvia would not even know it administered the public school system from a glance.
She’s inside the superintendent’s office after a brief wait. It’s a nice office. There’s not a trace of decor related to kids. There is a framed PhD from a prestigious university, along with other awards and a photo of him shaking hands with the mayor. The man himself wears a business suit and looks like a corporate executive. He looks like the kind of guy who can afford Victoria on the regular.
He also looks less than pleased to see Sylvia.
He explains, with a cool smile, that if she believes she can afford better lawyers than them, she is mistaken. He says they will win any suit Sylvia brings to court and that she will pay both sides’ attorneys’ fees. He says he is inclined to “make an example” out of Anna for wasting his time.
“That little teacher,” he states thinly, saying the word like he might say ‘janitor’, “will only leave her job in a body bag before her contract is up. Are we understood, Miss St. George?”
Victoria: Sylvia wears her best to this meeting: pressed slacks, a plain, white blouse and a blazer. Her heels herald her entrance to the room, but heels this time that scream enticement, vice terror.
When she enters the room, she smothers the fire inside her. She wants him to pay for his threats, but—just as that day in school—Anna’s security comes first.
“Peace,” she says, palms lifted in a minor gesture of surrender.
“You’re an important man. We’re wasting your time. I know how it works. Surely there’s something we can agree on to make you forget Ms. Perry’s commitment.”
“We’ll find our agreement, and that’ll be the last you see of us.”
GM: The superintendent looks Sylvia over coolly, but without the same hostility.
“You can cover the school system’s costs, with interest, that replacing the teacher will take.”
‘The teacher.’ Not ‘Ms. Perry.’
Not even ‘a teacher,’ in the abstract, a position that Ms. Perry is filling.
Just ‘the teacher.’
Victoria: “What do those costs amount to?”
GM: He quotes a figure in the quadruple digits.
Extra if it takes longer to fill Anna’s position.
Victoria: This girl is going to break her bank if she keeps this up.
Worth every penny.
Her mental voice sounds more tired every time she has to say it, but still she pays.
It’s nothing compared to Anna’s life, but she built her business on knowing these people, and she knows she can do better than this.
“Surely there must be something I can do for you, Superintendent Weiss, that can make her contract disappear.”
GM: The superintendent looks Sylvia over with a vaguely bored air.
“I suppose that depends what you can do for anyone.”
Victoria: “There’s very little I can’t do for anyone. My business is spinning dreams. Is there something you want to experience? Something you can’t just… go out and buy?”
Her eyes are burning with curiosity, watching him.
GM: “I wasn’t aware that ‘dreamspinning’ was an industry,” the superintendent says thinly. “What’s the projected growth rate?”
“Explain yourself, and clearly.”
Victoria: “That desire in your head? That little whim or wish that you won’t admit isn’t so little? That dream you had that you don’t want anyone to know about? I make those come true. There’s no qualm with legal greyness or lacking morals, and signed confidentiality.”
“My services aren’t cheap, nor are they available to everyone. I prospect my own clients, and I only take those who have interesting wishes. You have an unprecedented carte blanche.”
The chances are slim, especially with an offer made at his place of business. She knows that. She also knows she’s going to start charging Anna rent if she has to shell out another four to five figure sum just to keep her alive.
They say medical insurance is robbery…
GM: It is in the middle of his workplace.
In the middle of his work day.
During an appointment over a problem he didn’t want to deal with.
After he threatened her and thought she was wasting his time.
After he made fun of her veiled pitch.
He looks at her for a moment, and Victoria sees it in his eyes, simmering with lusts she has so expertly stoked.
She has him.
“I have an appointment I need to take soon,” he says.
“My schedule is full up for the near future.”
“The Corner Club at 6 tonight would be a better place to discuss these… things.”
Victoria: She smiles that devilishly crooked smile.
“Just a discussion, and a drink. If you decide it’s not for you, I’ll have a check ready.”
Either way, Anna is safe.
Until tomorrow. Sylvia can only guess what she’ll have to pay off tomorrow.
She holds her hand out to the man, shaking it firmly.
Wednesday evening, 28 October 2015
GM: One visit to the Corner Club, one discrete visit to Victoria’s dungeon, and one new client later, and Anna is released from her contract with New Orleans’ public school system.
Anna is thrilled, amazed, and above all, thankful.
Victoria: “You owe me,” a haggard looking Sylvia says after she returns.
GM: Anna looks at her with concern.
“Did something happen?”
Victoria: She shakes her head.
Translation: she doesn’t want to talk about it.
GM: Anna looks at her a moment longer, then hugs her.
She makes dinner.
She shows just how thankful she is, after dinner.
She doesn’t ask.
She brings up helping pay rent. She has savings, even if she’s now unemployed. She’ll find a job that’s temporary until she can apply to schools in the summer.
Victoria: Sylvia doesn’t want her to pay rent. Not anymore. That thought left her mind the moment she left the superintendent’s office.
“If you handle things around here, you can take your time finding a meaningful job. Fair?”
Translation: she likes Anna’s cooking more than her own. The not-so-subtlety of domestic roles adds to it, too.
“I want you to be happy. We’re not shy on money.”
They’re not rich, either. Not yet.
GM: Anna thinks that’s fair.
She’s happy to cook. And clean. And do laundry.
“I know,” says Anna. “I just don’t want to freeload.”
Victoria: “You’re not freeloading.”
She doesn’t complain about boxed mac and cheese as a side. Who would?
“I offered for you to live here, and I’m making good money doing what I’m doing.”
She reaches across the table, taking Anna’s fingers.
“You being here when I come home every day is more than I could ever ask for.”
GM: “I was thinking exactly the same thing,” Anna smiles back, squeezing her hand.
“What kinds of temporary jobs do you think I should shop around for?”
“Maybe daycare or something else with kids.”
Victoria: Sylvia rolls her eyes.
“Focus on finding a job that fulfills you. You don’t need to waste your time with a temporary job. We will get by.”
GM: “Right, this is just until summer. I want it to be something I like, even if it’s not forever. Hence the kids thought.”
Victoria: “If you’re set on it…”
GM: “I’m set on teaching,” Anna says. Her voice is faintly strained, but she smiles to offset it.
“Daycare was just an idea, though. You also mentioned working for you?”
Victoria: She nods.
“You coooould let me teach you… I’m sure there are some guys out there who would pay good money out there to see you look down your nose and smack a ruler against your hand. To start.”
She clears her throat.
She fans herself.
GM: “Oh,” says Anna.
She gives a laugh.
“Wow. I guess that’s no surprise!”
Victoria: “You sound surprised.”
GM: “I thought it was going to be something administrative.” She snickers. “I have literally no idea why.”
Victoria: She chortles, playing with her macaroni.
“I—yeah, that was a joke. You know I’ll teach you if you want, but I did mean administrative.”
GM: “Hm,” Anna says thoughtfully. “It definitely sounds… interesting. But I don’t have much actual experience with the lifestyle. And, well, I’m kinda more of a sub at heart. I’m not sure I’d be very good.”
“Except roleplaying a teacher, maybe.”
Victoria: “A sub at heart… a sub on your knees… a sub in the kitchen…”
Despite Anna’s interruptions, giggling, smacking, and a phone call from her mother, Sylvia continues to list over one hundred examples of where and how Anna has been a sub.
GM: Anna cannot deny them.
“YOU’RE sure not complaining, though, are you?” she smirks.
No, Sylvia can’t say that she is.