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Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Austere: part 1 (fiction)

It was a rainy Wednesday. As with all rainy days, Mistress Constance anticipated a call from Charlie. She woke from her nap on her living room couch to a ringing above her head where she’d tossed the phone after the long day of classes. Even before she touched the phone, she was certain it was Charlie. She’d actually been expecting Charlie’s call ever since the tail end of her acting class when she’d heard the thunder. He had a rain fetish and she was the only Dominatrix in the area, or so he claimed, that would work with his erratic scheduling and short notices. If there was a prediction of rain, he would schedule a session ahead of time. But if no rain came, he would always cancel. She got him to agree to pay for the first half hour if he actually showed up, but she wouldn’t charge him any cancellation fees if he called ahead, even if it was only minutes before his session; something most dominatrices would not do. She’d even allow him to call up at the first drop of rain, ask if she was busy and if she wasn’t, she’d take him right then.

But it wasn’t Charlie. The voice on the line was much younger than her fifty year old client. It was a voice that held all the qualities of a dandelion in fall. The boy said his name was Laderris and his friend wanted to meet her.

She tried to keep the smirk out of her voice. “Your friend? Don’t you want to meet me?”

There was the familiar rattling, as if the boy had lost control of the receiver or his hand, then he croaked, “yes, but I’m scared.” Laderris cringed within himself at the admission of his fear. What if she took that as a sign of weakness? What if she wanted nothing to do with someone so new to all of this?

But this refreshingly straightforward honesty endeared Constance to him. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“No,” Laderris admitted, blushing and feeling himself become aroused at just the sound of her voice. “My friend has. He’s had prostitutes before, but...”

“I am NOT a prostitute,” Constance stated firmly. She truly had no qualm with that age old profession, but it wasn’t what she did and for legal reasons, she would not tolerate being lumped into that category. “Is that going to be a problem? Because if you’re just looking for sex, you need to look elsewhere. There is NO sex in my dungeon.” The statement wasn’t entirely true, she had taken lovers down there, but she never fucked her clients.

“Th-that’s fine,” Laderris whispered, afraid he had insulted her, “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” Constance’s voice softened, cajoling him. “Why don’t you come with your friend for the consultation? That way, if you don’t see anything you like, you can just say that you went as moral support.”

“Do you charge for that?” His voice was a bit steadier, as the perspective clients often were, when discussing money.

“Oh no, dahhhhhling,” she purred into the phone, falling easily into the roll of seductress, “never will I charge for moral support.” She smirked at her own joke, “But neither do I charge for the consultation. It’s kind of like getting an estimate for construction. You decide if I’ve got what it takes to give you what you want and I decide of you’re worthy of my skills.”

“W-where do we meet?” His voice had once again become fragile.

“Any restaurant of your choosing.”

“Can we meet today?” He asked quickly, the words melting into one another.

If she hadn’t heard that question asked a thousand different times in the same way, she probably wouldn’t have understood him. But it was familiar and always gave her a silent chuckle. “Well, I’m expecting a call from a client. But if he doesn’t call within the next half hour, I’m guessing he’s not going to and I sure as hell am not waiting around. So, I could call you. Can I get your number?”

Hesitating, Laderris glanced around his parent’s basement where he lived, wrapping the phone cord around his finger, wondering if he should give her what she wanted. What if his Mom answered?

“I promise to only use it this once,” Constance purred from the other end of the line, “if I ever need it again, I’ll ask you for it. You have to start trusting at some point.” She imagined him chewing this over in his head. “Please?” The quick question was out of her mouth before she thought it. She bit her nail, wishing she could take the uncharacteristic word back.

Why did I say that, she thought, shaking her head, unable to remember the last time she’d even used that word. But there was something about his voice that brought a softness out of her. He gave her the number, sounding satisfied to have heard her say please. Since Charlie never called, she phoned Laderris two hours later. It was good to make them wait. He could think of no restaurant he would want to meet at, a common occurrence with many submissives - especially novice subs - so she made all the arrangements to meet him at the Buddha Diner and CafĂ© where she met most of her clients.

“I’ll be the woman with the briefcase wearing a top hat and tuxedo jacket. You will call me Constance.”

“I’ll be wearing nothing but a cock-ring,” he replied then quickly recanted, “I’m just kidding. I-I’ll be wearing a blue tee-shirt and jeans. My friend’ll probably be wearing something much more flamboyant. He usually does.” He paused, "so it's a date?"

Constance grinned. "It's a consultation."

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