*If you are younger than 18 years
If sex is to your neighborhood peers
If offended by words full of sexual sleaze
Do us both a favor and skip this, please.
Please ask permission before posting this elsewhere.
Copyright 2000 by Sara H.
- Sara*
----
Wrist Trained
by Sara H
Categories: FF, FD, MC
----
The woman was ridiculous. Absolutely batty. Still, it was at
least entertaining to listen to her hokey, insipid yammering
about the power she had. Get this: she was trying to tell me
that her bracelet had special, irresistible hypnotic powers.
Okay, so I was attracted. I was always attracted to
eccentricity, I think. At least, judging from my friends, it
would seem to be the case. A little into the dominance and
submission thing, too. But she was a woman, after all.
Maybe I had better start at the start, begin at the beginning
and commence at the commencement.
I was getting a large mocha at the Full O' Beans Coffee Shop
and Roastery. Considering what was about to happen and my
reaction to who I was about to meet, I don't think I could have
picked a more appropriate spot. They could have named the coffee
shop after this woman.
I didn't see her until I turned around to find a seat. They
were all taken; coffee shops in airports are popular in the
mornings before business flights. There was an open seat at a
booth, and she was taking up the other half. Although I usually
prefer my own company, my feet were tired from walking several
concourses.
She was dressed oddly for a summer morning - long fur coat,
black gloves that reached to her elbows and disappeared under
the half-length sleeves. Looking under the table, I could see
thigh-high black boots through the open slit of the coat. The
whole effect was topped off with high cheekbones, reddish
brunette hair and emerald green eyes. They were so green I
thought they must have been contacts, but they were striking,
nonetheless.
I felt that familiar twinge of kink in my as I walked
over. Pure Dominatrix. It was easy to see her in a much more
dark and erotic setting. A change of gender and I'd have been
putty. She felt dangerous, like a spider sitting in a web, but
when she smiled towards me, it was all easy friendliness. "Do
you mind if I share your table?" I asked, a little coyly. "I
only have a little time to relax before I have to get to the
gate." She smiled more widely and nodded, and took a sip of
espresso as she waved me to the seat opposite her. "Thank you
very much," I commented gratefully.
"Where you headed?" she asked, eyes twinkling. "Chicago;
business," I answered. "You?"
"Oh, I'm just waiting for someone to come sit down." I felt the
twinge again. Damn, it had been a long time since Stephen left.
Bastard. I was even getting sparked by this woman... and that
was certainly in the realm of "less than fantasy".
"Looks like you got your wish, ummm..."
"Rochelle," she interjected.
"Rochelle," I grinned. "Jane. Pleased to meet you!"
"Same here, Jane." She paused. "What kind of business?"
"Investment banking," I answered, getting ready for the
requisite explanation.
"Sounds kinda boring," she said, and I almost took offense
until I saw her smiling. Perfect teeth. Succulent lips. I shook
my head to clear it a little. I remember thinking, *Wow, it
really* has *been a long time...*
"Sometimes yes, sometimes no," I lied. The truth was that
although it gave me a nice lifestyle, I hated it and couldn't
wait to make enough to be self-sufficient.
"Well, *I* have something interesting to show you," she purred.
It was kind of odd, as if she had been waiting for a reason to
say it. "It's something I'd really like you to see." Oh, great.
I wondered if it was a multi-level marketing plan or a stock
tip. Seemed like I could never get away from these people.
"It's my bracelet," she said so softly that I could barely
hear. "It's really quite amazing. It holds very unusual
properties. It captures minds and souls."
I felt a laugh bubbling up to break through - and tried hard to
stifle it. I knew she could see my amusement, but she must have
been used to that reaction, because she just kept smiling
warmly. What wonderfully full lips...
"I know it sounds crazy, and I even doubted it myself. I mean,
look at it," she said holding it up so that I could see. "It's
just a two-inch wide plain silver bracelet. But it does
something to people. Makes them listen. Makes them believe.
Believe anything I tell them." She was wearing it on the outside
of her glove. I thought how strange that was, and felt another,
stronger twinge/tickle in my clit. Despite the silliness of her
words, she was hitting all the right buttons.
I did give her the benefit of the doubt. I looked at the
bracelet closely, seeing how it seemed almost to shimmer in the
light shining on it from directly above our table. It had a kind
of simple elegance, and a touch of New Age sensibility. As she
turned it, the light seemed to refract around its edges. It was
interesting, at least.
I looked up into her eyes again, and noticed that I had been
wrong. She wasn't wearing contacts. "It's quite beautiful, don't
you think?" I politely nodded my agreement. It was beautiful,
but that didn't quite equate with the powers she was suggesting
it had.
"I didn't believe it myself, when I bought it. I got it from a
little shop in the Caribbean, and it was quite expensive for
what it looks like. But the woman who sold it to me swore
that it could change people. Well, change women. just see a
silver bracelet."
I kept looking at her eyes as she babbled on and on about it.
It was a good thing they were there; they kept me from laughing
in her face and getting up to walk away.
Now, her eyes *were* amazing. Deep whirlpools of bright emerald
green that I could get lost in. So easily. Gratefully. Made it
so much easier to hear without listening. I let myself answer
naturally, and it seemed to be working. She didn't even notice
my stare, or that my answers were just taken from the little
cues of what she wanted to hear.
And, besides, she was turning me on. Despite how crazy she was,
she was the sexiest woman I had ever met. As I sat there, my
mind wandered back to my marriage, divorce and relationships on
either side of those events. Always so much promise. Always
ending badly. Always so much pain.
*Always men.*
I startled myself with that odd realization, but kept myself
from showing it outwardly. I didn't want to offend Rochelle; she
was still absorbed in her ongoing monologue. Besides, once I saw
it, I saw the truth of it. You can't fight the truth.
As I sat there, I remembered how I'd always been fascinated by
women and afraid to do anything about it. How sexy I felt around
women. Time wasted chasing flawed expectations. Even being
around Rochelle now, I was becoming aroused beyond anything I'd
ever felt before.
Inside the back of my mind, I realized I had to catch my plane.
I glanced at my watch, and Rochelle said, "Relax. There are
plenty of other planes and other people on them. No need to go
just yet." Right. Silly of me to worry. I had more important
things to think about, anyway, like the realizations that were
coming to me on this funny summer morning, sitting across from
this funny, eccentric woman. She went back to her babbling, I
went back to her eyes.
"Well, I should at least call and tell my associates I'll be
arriving late."
"Sure hon, go ahead. Such a shame to be a slave to them, you
know. Especially when you hate what you do." How had she known
that? Suddenly I had a vague memory of telling her all kinds of
things, but it stilled and my mind went blank. She had only been
going on and on about the bracelet. I had only been responding
normally. She was simply very perceptive.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Chicago. The phone rang
several times, and finally Brad picked up and said, "Hello?"
"Yes, Brad, this is Jane. I'm in St. Louis still. Oh, and Brad?
I'm resigning. I've had enough of being a puppet to you and the
company. Send my severance package to my home. Thanks." I could
hear him choking and trying to respond as I closed the phone and
turned off the power.
I put away the cell phone and went back to the whirlpools that
were Rochelle's eyes.
"Good girl," she whispered, conspiratorially. Yes. Good for me.
I was glad to see she was pleased. The arousal in my pussy... my
cunt... shot up as I realized she liked what I had done. I just
wanted to hear her voice start again so I could get lost in
those eyes. She obliged, I quit listening, and let the waves
come.
My hand was sneaking under the waistband of my skirt, snaking
slowly down to my shouting clit.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "This is a public place!"
"I'm masturbating," I replied easily. I couldn't see what she
was upset about. It was the most natural thing in the world. All
her talk about a 'hypnobracelet' had addled her brain. I moaned
as my fingers found their destination and began to tease my
distended pleasure nubbin.
"Well, in my book, that makes you a slut," she mentioned
casually.
"Yes, I'm a slut," I agreed. I didn't know there was a question
about it.
"Sluts are only good for one thing, you know. Sexual slavery,"
she added.
"I know that - that's my reason to live."
"Well, slaves are never away from their owner's side. I don't
see anyone else nearby. What does that make me?"
"My Owner." I couldn't believe She was being so obtuse.
"Your *Mistress*," she corrected.
"My Mistress. Apologies."
The heat in my loins was well beyond bringing me to a heart-
stopping orgasm, but still I had not - could not - cum. I
realized I wanted Her to share in the experience somehow. I
circled faster, brutally pressing hard on my hot little slutty
clit.
"What business did you say you were in?" She queried.
"Monkey business," I answered, grinning sheepishly. Hadn't She
been listening?
"And who is it you obey?"
"You, Mistress Rochelle."
"And who is it you live to serve?"
"You, Mistress Rochelle."
"And how long have you served me?"
My voice caught for a moment, as another starkly clear
revelation hit me full force. "Since I was born."
With the words, my fingers plunged deeply into my pussy,
ravaging my most inner folds. God, I needed to for Her! It
was excruciating, melting my brain into a puddle of wanton need.
"Your sexual orientation?"
"Lesbian, Mistress."
"Your name?"
"slavejane, Mistress."
"And how do you receive pleasure?"
"By pleasing You, Mistress."
"Do you remember the hypnobracelet?"
"No." I struggled, but for the life of me I couldn't remember
what on earth She was talking about.
"Look at your right wrist and tell me what you see."
I looked down and saw my silver slave bracelet adorning my wrist.
"My training bracelet."
"Tell me about it."
"It controls my heart, mind and soul. It can't be removed. Nor
do I want to."
"You have done well, slavejane. You may for Rochelle now."
I watched as the Coffee Shop disappeared and the fizzling stars
covered my vision. I was in Rochelle now, on the edge of...
*great fucking slave-whore in the sky... cumming* as wave after
wave of pleasure and submission tore through me like a
hurricane, legs twitching, toes curling in my shoes, screaming
out my endless passion, my obedience taking me even higher, my
life being sealed forever to... oh
god...*Mistresssssssssssssssssssssssssss...*
----
It's a different kind of life I have now. I can see my past,
the one I thought I had, like a dream after waking. Being
allowed to see what I was truly born to be has changed it, and I
recognize the false memories and how little sense they make.
Mistress is my reality, and always has been... like the
revulsion I feel for my unjust corruption by the and woman
who stole me away from Her as a child.
Now, I know you think I'm crazy, sitting here in the Coffee
Shop, waiting for someone to sit down, but I'm even wearing the
bracelet. See? And I can tell you're trying not to listen as you
nod, your eyes distant. No matter. What business did you say you
were in? Public Relations? Sounds like *Monkey Business* to *me.*
*Finis*
----
*Please send any comments or feedback to cats_sara@yahoo.com.
- Sara*
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