Moving on Up with Client #3

'd been told about the other rooms upstairs, but hadn't seen them yet, as they were only for use with VIP clients. Lisette primped in the mirror momentarily, then grinned and asked if I was okay, as she hadn't known what I was comfortable with. I felt myself redden slightly, but told her it had been fine. She practically ran out the door, saying that Tina would let me know if and when it was okay to come up to the session.

I asked quickly if the last client was really engaged to her sister, thinking that it was really sad to have to do that job if it were true. She laughed and said "of course not," as she bounded out of the room, her dark hair flying behind.

As I mulled over what she'd told me in those few seconds, Mistress Rhapsody came back into the room. It was 4:30, and as she didn't have a session scheduled, she had already changed into her street clothes. The girl before me now looked like a prepubescent skate betty. On the street, no one would guess she was a dominatrix. Her jeans were huge, a far cry from the skintight trousers she'd worn over her costume, and swept over her big tennis shoes far past the usual hemline. She had a T-shirt on that she was drowning in, and had affixed a little flower barrette to the hair at one temple.

She grinned at me and asked how I was doing, and I offered a noncommittal "fine." She began cleaning up the lounge, clearing food containers from the table, wiping down the tabletops, and gathering the garbage. I grabbed a couple of sacks, no doubt full of some disgusting refuse from the freshly cleaned session rooms, and helped her carry them out the back door to the dumpsters.

When we returned, Tina met me with keys and instructions to go up to the session. When I ascended, I found a posh apartment, stark white, with plush, overstuffed modern black furniture. The art on the walls was garish but expensive, and fit the décor. I put my things on the counter of a sparkling clean, fully outfitted kitchenette, and looked at the clock on the coffeepot. I wondered whether my boyfriend had picked my son up from school on time. Quietly, I lifted the receiver on the nearby phone, dialed home, and spoke with him, finding that my son was safe and sound. My boyfriend asked how it was going, knowing how apprehensive I had been the night before. I only answered that I had to go, and hung up the phone.

I took a deep breath, my millionth that day, and walked down a hallway to stand outside a door from which murmuring and slapping sounds were emanating. The phone call had reminded me of my other reality, and I told myself again about the money and health benefits so as to fight the urge to turn around and leave. I knocked and forced myself back into character.

Mistress Lisette called for me, and I opened the door onto a beautifully decorated bedroom. It, too, was stark white, but had soft, flowered curtains that matched the bedspread on a brass bed. The carpeting was plush, unlike the utilitarian coverings in the basement, and the room was spotless, save for the neatly draped men's clothing on a prim velvet chair across the room. I crossed to the chair and sat, careful not to crush the clothes next to me, and then surveyed the room for Mistress Lisette and the client.

They were in the corner by the door, so I had missed them as I walked in. She had him bent over a horse identical to the one in the basement, and she grinned at me over his red ass as she spanked him again with the paddle. She demanded that he behave, as she refused to be embarrassed by a slave's insolence in front of another mistress. He responded "Yes, Mistress," breathlessly, as if it were a chant. I'd heard him saying it from outside the door a moment ago; it was apparent that chanting this was part of his fantasy.

Mistress Lisette demanded that he stand up so that I could see her good little slave. He obliged by standing up to face the wall. She demanded that he turn around, asking how I could possibly decide his worth if I couldn't see his erection. He stood before me, looking down like a chastised schoolboy. She pointed out his good features, but said he was in trouble because he hadn't been to see her lately. After each statement, she asked "isn't that right?" and he chanted the breathless "yes, Mistress," again and again.

As he stood before me, I realized he was a truly handsome man—too pretty for my taste, but surely he had no problems attracting women. He didn't come to the dungeon for that reason, but because it was the only place that he could truly give up control to someone else. It was obvious by his manicure, haircut, and the expensive clothes next to me that this man was an executive of some sort. He also had a magnificent erection.

Mistress Lisette asked me to stand, and then asked the client what was wrong with him—another mistress had entered the room and he had not given her the proper respect. "Yes, Mistress," was his reply as he got down on his hands and knees and began kissing my boots. Lisette said that because of the infraction, kissing them wasn't enough. He had to lick them.

I noticed as he obeyed her that he was truly excited by doing so, and passionately kissed and licked my boots as if he were with a lover. Moans escaped from his lips, and I looked up, surprised, at Lisette. She grinned mischievously at me over the crouched figure, winked, and then demanded the slave stop. He whimpered as if a favorite toy had been taken from him, and stopped with his face still next to my boots.

Lisette made him rise up, but stay on his knees with his hands behind his back while I sat back in the chair a few feet from him. She then continued to comment on his physical virtues as she paced behind his kneeling form, slapping him on the ass with the paddle and tapping his erection every now and then, making it bob.

He seemed in exquisite longing each time she touched him in any way. He whimpered and whispered, "Yes, Mistress," to each word she directed at him. While he knelt there, she walked over and leaned against my chair, starting to talk about mundane things. After we talked about her new shoes, she looked over and saw his erection had begun to wane. She yelled at him to stand up and remedy the situation, as she would not be embarrassed by her slave. He chanted as he kneaded himself back to full erection in a moment.

Mistress Lisette next ordered him go to the closet and find some pretty panties to put on as humiliation for having lost his erection. He picked a pair of red silk panties from a closet that spanned the entire room and was filled with silks, satins, and frills. She ordered him to stand before me and dared him to lose his erection again.

She went to the closet herself and pulled out a contraption made of black straps and a dildo. She pulled this on over her hot pants, making it appear as though she had an erection of her own, then demanded that the client kneel and suck her "cock." He knelt and began pulling at the dildo with his mouth in earnest. Again he was moaning in pleasure, and his erection was pulling the fabric of his silk panties from his skin with its pressure.

Looking up at Lisette I was surprised to find her grinning at me again over his head. She was obviously having fun playing with him, and she winked again as she demanded he stop as there was no way a stupid slave could ever please her like that. Menacingly, she ordered him to crawl to the bathroom, lean over the toilet, and wait for her.

Returning to the closet, she pulled out a rubber dildo. She then made a face and called me over; the dildo had an old condom on it. Apparently some mistress had used it and not cleaned it. Lisette looked disgusted and left the room, returning in a moment with another one and a fresh condom, which she handed to me. As I unrolled the condom over the graduating ridges of the dildo, stretching it to its fullest at the huge base, I heard her in the bathroom teasing the client. "I'm gonna fuck you in the ass," she said, "and you're gonna love it." He chanted his reply as I brought the dildo to her and positioned myself in the doorway.

Mistress Lisette had the client hunched over the toilet with his face against the tank and his buttocks in the air. She made him beg for it as she placed her hand on his back to hold him still, and began twisting the graduated rubber cock into him, all the while demanding to know how much he loved it while he chanted "Yes, Mistress," again and again, each time with more intensity.

Abruptly, she pulled it out of him, exclaiming that he had gotten her toy all dirty. She examined the feces on the dildo, and held it up to me to prove how dirty it was. To humiliate the client further, she demanded that he clean it. He looked stricken and questioned her with his eyes. She told him to lick it clean, to which he did not whisper "Yes, Mistress," but only shook his head. Realizing that she had taken the game further than the client had cared to go, she backed down and told him that he couldn't get fucked anymore as his punishment.

She smacked the client hard on his ass, then ordered him back to the bedroom. We walked out behind him and I noticed how red his buttocks were. I thought to myself that he might be getting off now, but tomorrow he would probably be sore.

Mistress Lisette explained to me that it was time for our slave to finish for himself, but that he had a talented way of doing it. She instructed him to lie on the ground and asked me to stand over his head facing towards his feet. She knelt next to his left thigh and told me that, at her signal, I was to grab his feet as he brought them toward me. In this way, he could catch his own semen in his mouth as he came. I'd never seen such acrobatics, and was interested to watch the final result.

As I stood over the client, watching him knead himself furiously, I realized that he was staring up in between my legs. Wanting this to reach its conclusion, I mimicked Lisette's pose earlier and lowered myself until my crotch was inches from his face. With a yelp, he pulled into fetal position. I stood quickly to catch his legs while Lisette cradled his back, and he ejaculated almost all of the semen directly into his mouth. I patted his legs as I let them go to the floor, stepped over him, and left the room.

Taking Stock of the Day

t seemed that every time I left a session I was more confused. I had never seen anything like that before, and Lisette had put on an incredible performance. The client had wanted to be humiliated, and she gave him that, but I didn't understand his need. I suppose I was glad that he had a safe way to fulfill his fantasies, but it was disturbing, nonetheless. I felt very detached as I put my clothes back on and returned to the lounge.

I gathered my things together, and Jay called me into the office to ask me what my decision was. I felt disoriented, and told him I needed to think about it that night. He grinned and said okay, but told me that I had done a good job and that he'd love to have me. I smiled my thanks and left the office. Lisette was just entering, and I complimented her on her performance. She smiled and thanked me, obviously pleased.

The second shift had arrived; the lounge was filled with primping women. Another beautiful woman with long dark hair introduced herself as Hannah and welcomed me to the dungeon. I thanked her, but told her I wasn't sure it was for me. She looked surprised when I asked her if she had known it was for her right away.

"Oh, yeah," she said, explaining that she had always been into S&M and bondage/domination in her personal life and was just thrilled to be able to get off and get paid for it. I had no other reply than "Oh." I excused myself to the restroom to shed the costume. I dressed and folded it neatly, wishing I could launder it before I returned it, and put it near Tina's bags.

On the street, the setting sun accosted me. I looked around blindly and made out a woman waiting by the door with a bouquet of roses. She was very butch, and looked impatient until the door swung open and Rhapsody appeared. The woman handed her the bouquet, and she took them nonchalantly with a bored "thank you" and a peck on the cheek. I said hello, and we all stood waiting for a cab. I offered the first one to them, but they declined, and I gratefully entered the taxi, alone with my thoughts for the first time.

I was trying to assimilate what I'd been through that day, and very little made sense to me. It truly seemed like an entirely different dimension, some twilight zone. Had I really just done those things?

When I left the house that morning, I'd only planned on watching from some distant monitor, but instead I'd spent my day helping men get off. That wasn't far from prostitution in my eyes, though Jay claimed differently. I felt very removed and disoriented, and hadn't decided whether or not to go back.

When the cab dropped me off at my apartment door, and once I'd paid the driver, I burst into tears. I wasn't sure why. It wasn't the relief of seeing my boyfriend and having someone to comfort me. I think it was the realization that I'd assumed a different persona for the day, and upon reentering my own, recognized that it didn't suit me. I felt there was absolutely no way I could go back to that the next day without somehow losing a part of me in the process, though I wasn't sure why.

I feel that, for those who enjoy it, dungeons are a safe way for people to explore that part of their sexuality. The human sex drive is natural and beautiful, and if something feels good and hurts no one, people should go for it. I do not, however, feel that a dungeon is the place for me. Perhaps it is an abusive past that made me feel so ashamed afterwards, or maybe it is just not as much a part of my sexuality as it is for others.

I'm still confused, however, by my mixed reactions. I was aroused many times that day, but arrived home in tears. I suppose that it is possible that this is a part of me, but I'm unable to get past the guilt to enjoy it. It felt more, however, as though I were in a place, physically and emotionally, that I was not supposed to be in. I don't feel that I'm sexually repressed, but it is probable that I felt what I did because these people were strangers. Even an anonymous fuck is more intimate than that.

Still, many frequent the dungeons who no doubt don't carry away the same dirty feeling I did upon leaving. The mistresses seem to genuinely love their jobs—it's never boring or the same—and the customers leave pleased and relatively safely satisfied. For lifestylers, I understand that S&M and B&D can be very fulfilling and, if done correctly, can be a respectful, loving way of handing over control to someone as an act of trust. I just choose to share that in other ways.

Later that evening, despite my confusion, or maybe because of it, my boyfriend and I had the most phenomenal sex we'd had in a long time. I allowed the images and thoughts that had aroused me into my fantasies, but kept my actions where I felt secure—in my bed with an intimate partner.

I write this from my family's computer in my small hometown where I'm saving up money to return to New Orleans. There, I'll bartend happily for my pay—late weekend hours, drunk patrons, and all—and keep the sex at home.