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It had been another long and arduous day at work, even as I generally like what I do for a living. It’s not so much the physical aspect, although that can be taxing at times. It’s more the mental one, the intricate planning and meticulous attention to detail, while allowing for the spontaneous creativity that can make a session sing. And then, there is the vitally important aftercare, to make sure that clients emerge emotionally whole, not only to encourage future business, but because I really do care for their wellbeing. To be certain that I have only hurt and humiliated them in ways that they want, not in any ways that they don’t. I am a Dominatrix, not a sadist, and I take great pride in my work. This may be one of the reasons why I am one of the most popular and frequently requested-for Dommes in the studio.
Of course, being an employee does have its drawbacks. The strict time schedules, and the ‘churn out the product’ mindset of my employers, all serve to stifle the essence of exploration that I might have and enjoy with a client, for both of our benefits, if I had a freer reign. Yes, I made a good living, even enough to save a bit on the side, but never enough, I knew, to ever achieve any of my dreams in any foreseeable future. And I wanted to do and be so much more.
Unfortunately, this sense of staleness and stagnation permeated my personal life as well. I have a number of female friends, both from the studio, and some vanilla ones who know nothing of what I do. I socialize with them at times, although none are especially close. I have of course, though rarely, dated at times. My desire for dominance, although not to be domineering, has always been intrinsic to my being. I don’t think that I would have gravitated to my profession otherwise, yet that only scratches the itch. It usually doesn’t take long for most prospective suiters to beat a hasty retreat, once they come to understand my demanding and need to be in control nature. Those few who don’t, who come to crave what I have to offer, once they recognize it, invariably come to insist on trying to top from the bottom, something I always find unpalatable and unacceptable. So they are also very rapidly sent packing. Sure, I recognize that this is actually the underlying basis of what I do at work, where my being in control is only an illusion, part of the game. But at least there, the patrons pay for that privilege. I don’t need to be giving it away for free. In my real life, I have to have someone who puts my needs and pleasures singularly first and foremost. Of course, I am not innately or solely selfish. I would see to their needs at times as well, as that would also please me. But they would not know, or expect that going in, and would have to accept it all upfront. A fantasy scenario, without doubt, but I will never retreat from my standard. Thus, I guess that I have resigned myself to being alone. Still, one can always hope.
Not the least of my efforts at the end of my workday is getting out of my skin tight leathers and stiletto boots, the basic uniform at the studio, and one that I would use far less, if at all, if I was on my own. I left them behind in our Ladies changing room for the attendant clients, who paid a hefty sum to clean these items, the equipment, and the rest of the premises between shifts or after hours. It is a very efficiently run business. After wearing black the entire work day, I like to dress in more colorful and casual clothes. This day, I put on a vibrant pink tank top, to go with my faded and strategically torn jeans, and my pair of brightly colored running shoes. After removing the very small amount of makeup I usually wore, I left my workplace, looking just like your typical girl next door.
Walking the several blocks to the subway that would take me to the nice neighborhood uptown where I lived in a tiny but fairly decent apartment, I began to think of what I would do for dinner. I’m not much of a cook, and usually settle for a frozen, ready-to-microwave meal, or eating out as much as my tight budget will allow. As exacting as I have to be and appear on the job, I am that sloppy at home, my place in a seemingly perpetual state of disarray. I detest housework, and do as little as possible to make my apartment livable, and I frowned as I realized that I soon had to attend to the large amount of my accumulated laundry if I wanted to have anything to wear. As I waited on one of the street corners for the light to change, I was startled out of these dismal ruminations when, from behind, he came to stand right next to me.
“Miss Sheri, I wonder if you might allow me a moment of your time.”
It is very rare to have any interactions with a client outside of the studio, and always to be avoided. For obvious reasons on our part, but also for the clients as well as they usually do not want to acknowledge that part of their lives in the outside world. I recognized him as someone with whom I had had a number of sessions in the past, and remembered bahis şirketleri him as a pleasant enough person, probably somewhere in his mid-thirties, several years more than my 29. I also recalled that his full focus was on his foot fetish and general worship, which was always easy enough to satisfy, and which even I had enjoyed. And he had always seemed very grateful and harmless. Still, there were norms that had to be maintained, for everyone’s protection.
“Excuse me.” I responded sternly and with as much steel as I could muster given my surprise. “It’s Logan, right?”
He nodded and appeared genuinely gratified that I had remembered his name, something I personally consider very important in my line of work, particularly when I’m purposefully not being derogatory. I rapidly continued on, to maintain the offensive.
“Look, Logan, it’s absolutely unacceptable for any of us to meet outside…”, I glanced around and saw that there were a number of people about, which was reassuring, but fortunately, all beyond listening range, “… of work” I made clear. “If you ever have anything you need to say to me, it can only be there. Understand?” I concluded with emphasis.
“I do, please believe me Miss Sheri, ” he replied, “and please forgive me, but this is something that I don’t believe would be wise to discuss there, and I hope that it may be something that you might find to be of real interest to you. For your personal benefit. Please just give me a couple of minutes, maybe over a cup of coffee at one of the nearby cafes” he went on in a rush. “If it’s something you don’t want to hear any more about, I promise that I’ll get up and leave, and you’ll never see or be bothered by me again.”
It’s never good to risk permanently losing a client, particularly one whose sessions were usually very easy, and whom I’ve actually always had fun playing with. Despite the outrageous breach of protocol, an iced latte did seem quite enticing at that moment, and there was a coffee shop just a half a block away. And I couldn’t deny that my curiosity had been piqued, just a little bit. So, I let him know that I would allow him the amount of time it took me to consume my drink. After he had procured my latte, and a coffee for himself, we secured a back table, far enough away from any other ears.
“Okay Logan, it’s your dime, and you’re on the clock so to speak, so what is it that you had to speak to me about.”
“Thank you very much Miss Sheri,” he started.
“Please Logan,” I interrupted, “Outside the studio, let’s just have it be Sheri.”
“Whatever you say… Sheri.” He paused, as if collecting himself. “Let me begin by saying that you are by far and away the best of them all at your… establishment.” he continued.
“Look.” I chimed in. “Everyone likes a compliment. But if that’s all this is about, then I think you’re wasting both of our times.”
“I really hope not,” he forged on, “because I truly believe that it’s you who is wasting yourself and your very special talents where you are now.”
“What do you mean?” I retorted, although not as sharply as I might have wanted.
“You are very different from all of them there.” He offered. “You really care. You take the time to get to know your clients, not only what they tell you they might want, but you intuit what they may really need. And then you try to give it to them as best as you’re able given the time and space constraints imposed on you by your employers. You may offer them the pain or humiliation, but you never demean. You see and accept them as real, this necessity as an important part of their lives. And you do it not just as a paid participant, but as someone who joins with them on their journey to joy and fulfillment.” He stopped for a moment.
“So, what’s your point?” I more softly inquired, wanting, I guess, for his assessment to be true.
“That you should be on your own. To better discover and meet all of their desires. And your own.”
“Yeah, right.” I snorted. “Even if that is something I might like, it would take a great deal of money and means to set up, neither of which I have, and probably never will.”
“But I do.” He said quietly. “Both money and means. And I’d like to underwrite such a venture for you.”
I glared at him hotly. “Are you proposing to be my pimp, Logan?”
He turned a deep shade of red. “Oh God, no. Please don’t think that, Sheri. Listen, please. I’m 35 years old, and I have already made enough in my field of information technology and marketing, that I never have to work again. But I’d like to put my money to good use, and I already contribute to a fair number of good causes. But I’d also like to invest some of it in you. Because I believe in you, and I also believe that what you do, and how you do it, is also good. And important. And I have the means and skills to help you set up and get going. I can develop for you a special and personal internet marketing program, that will attract only the type of clientele that you want, and you bahis firmaları can pick and choose however you want.” He took a breath. “And it’s not a gift. You can pay it all back, in agreed upon terms, once you’re established and comfortable. But you’ll always be totally in charge, of when you work, how you work, and with whom you work. And I know that with all of what you have to offer, you’re going to be making far more than you ever will where you are now. And you can become who you want to be.”
I sat there practically numb and initially bemused. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I was more than a little bit intrigued. He certainly painted a very pretty picture. But I had learned long ago that if something seems too good to be true, it always is.
“How do I know that this isn’t all just total bullshit.” I finally forced myself to challenge.
“You don’t.” he conceded. “But if you could give me just two weeks, I’d like to show you that’s it’s not. That’s all I ask.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. “I know that you won’t, and shouldn’t give me your cell phone number, but this is mine. If you would just call me in two weeks, so that I can prove to you that this isn’t all just BS.” He stopped for a moment. “If you don’t call, or aren’t interested at that point, I’ll understand and it’ll be as I said, you’ll never be bothered by me again.”
I was almost finished with my latte, the allotted time I had given him. I glanced over and saw that he hadn’t touched his coffee. I took the offered note.
“I’m not promising anything.” I said.
“I know” he answered.
“Even about the phone call.”
“Good.” I stood up. “I have to be on my way now.” I smiled. “Feel free to drink your coffee.”
He smiled back, a very nice ‘I don’t expect anything in return’ type of smile. “Thank you. Whatever you wish, Sheri.”
I nodded and left.
I’d like to say that it was business as usual for the next two weeks, but I have to admit that it was difficult for me to fully maintain my focus for my work at hand during that time. I don’t think my clients noticed. I am a pro. I alternated between believing it was all some type of scam or sick joke, or more often, not being able to help letting my mind wander over the more enticing possibilities. That I could be able to delve more deeply and extend my clients’ scenarios, and enhance the experiences to more exhilarating levels for all, including myself. To have it then be a shared adventure, where my compensation would be so much more than financial, even as important as that latter certainly is.
And then reality would come crashing through again. There was no way this could all come about. And what did I really know about Logan. Sure, he seemed like a nice guy as clients go, and my sessions with him were usually among my most enjoyable. And his ‘thank you’ at the end of each always seemed real and sincere, not the perfunctory one that is usually part of the scene. What was he going to get out of this? Was this just another way for him to get his jollies by trying to lure me into a different and more intricate one of his fantasies? If he was as rich as he implied, he didn’t get that way by being stupid. He had to know that he likely would never recoup the amount of capital it would take to set up the type of operation that he had outlined or that I would want, unless he took the major share of anything that I would make. And I certainly would never allow that. No, it was all just a pipe dream, and was never going to fly.
Still, as the two weeks came to an end, I couldn’t get the possibilities out of my mind. What could it hurt to just look and listen, to be sure. I didn’t call on the first day, or on the next, or the one after that. There was no way that I was going to have him think that he had sparked any visions in my head that in any way had me in their thrall. On the fourth day I dialed the number he had given me.
“Tomorrow is my day off.” I said without any preamble after he had answered. “Anything that you have to show me, we can do it then.”
“Great, Sheri. I was really hoping you would call.” He replied. “I’ll text you to the number you’re calling from, an address where we can meet.”
I winced at my obvious mistake.
“I’ll delete your number as soon as I send the text.” he continued, as if intuitively understanding my concern, even as he had no reason to address it. “What I’d like you to see is at that address. It’s in one of the outer boroughs, so you’ll need to take an Uber, but I’ll pay for that.”
No, you won’t, I insisted to myself. If I was going to make a fool of myself, or be made a fool of, I’ll pay for that myself, thank you.
“What time would you like to come?” he went on.
I thought for a moment. “About two.” I said. That would allow me to sleep in, which I like to do on my days off, and also let me get back in time for dinner, maybe even indulging myself by eating out.
“That kaçak bahis siteleri would be perfect” he concluded. “I’m really excited about this.”
Don’t get your hopes up, I reflected, even as I was having difficulty keeping my own down.
I did sleep in the next morning, although not as late as I usually did on my days off. I showered, followed by a leisurely brunch and coffee, and then began to get myself ready for my meeting. I decided to dress down for it, a faded college tee shirt, my torn jeans and an older pair of running shoes. I again put my hair up in a pony tail, and wore no makeup. He was trying to impress me, not the other way around.
The Uber ride out took longer that I had anticipated, over forty-five minutes to the address which turned out to be in the outer part of the outer borough. So, I was going to be late, which actually served my purposes fine. I had decided that if the area seemed in any way seedy, or too secluded, I would have the Uber turn right around and take me home. We drove through an upscale residential area however, and the small commercial part of it, which proved to be our destination, melded in very nicely with it.
Each of the businesses on both sides of the main street were in their own colonial style houses, on their own lots of property. As we passed, I saw that one was a hair and nail salon, another was a real estate office, and another was a wine shop. After passing several more, we came to a wider gap between two, which was a driveway that the GPS directed the Uber driver to turn upon. At the head of it was a distinctive sign, ‘Logan Larson Inc.’
The driveway curved about 75 yards away and out of sight of the main road, before opening up into a small parking area, in front of a much larger, but similar style house. Logan was standing out in front. I had arranged with the Uber driver to pay for the round trip, and at for least an hour parked and waiting for me outside. This was obviously going to put a big financial dent in my dining out plans, but I hoped that I had all my bases covered.
“Thank you for coming, Sheri.” He said as he opened the car door for me. I nodded and smiled as I got out. There was no need to be unpleasant. This wasn’t a session.
“Is this your place of work?” I asked, genuinely interested.
“Was” he answered. “As I mentioned before, I’m essentially retired now. But this was my main center of business, where I did most of my research and development, marketing, met with customers, and where much of my staff worked. I’ve kept this one place, and maintained a small office here to keep track and manage my ongoing activities.” He stopped for a moment. “And I’ve recently modified the rest, and that’s what I’ve asked you here to see.”
“Well, I’m here, so I guess I’m interested in having you show me.”
“I’ll be delighted. I really hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“Me too.” I smiled back.
As we approached the front entrance he looked back at the unmoving Uber.
“He’s going to wait for me for the return trip.” I explained.
“Okay, of course” he responded, and then opened the door for me to enter.
The first encountered room was a small but comfortable appearing reception area. Just beyond the window enclosed room for a receptionist was another door through which we passed into a large and long hallway. To our left was an open doorway through which I could see a spacious room with a large desk and computers.
“That’s my office” he offered, seeing me look. “Not much of interest there. What I’d like you to see is further along.” We proceeded halfway down the hall, coming to a set of stairs going up, and another through a door underneath, going down.
“There are two floors here, and a large finished basement, which I’d like to show you first.” He explained. “we can use the stairs, but it’s easier to use the elevator” which was just past the door.
We took the elevator down, which opened to a very spacious basement which had been constructed into a well-appointed dungeon. In one corner was a St Andrew’s Cross. In another was a set of wooden stocks, and in a third was a 4 by 4 foot animal cage. In the final corner, upon a slightly raised dais was a throne with a rough astroturf kneeling pad in front. Two side by side walls had large floor to ceiling mirrors, which served to make the room seem far larger, and in which most of the room’s actions could be observed by participants. Hanging upon the other two walls were a large variety of whips, floggers, crops and canes, as well as hand and leg restraints, spreader bars, hobbles and humblers. Dangling down from the ceiling in the center of the room was a chain connected to a remote-controlled electronic winch, which could clearly pull someone up to their toes, or beyond. It all encompassed most of what one could imagine for such scenarios. And it was the part of the profession that interested me the least. I have never been enamored with inflicting physical pain, and do so only when it is a required part of my job duties. My nature if far more drawn to the mental enjoyments of the power exchange. If he thought that it was something like this that would entice me to his offer, he was very sadly misguided.
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