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Diary Of A Dominatrix	By : CindyShrapnel Category: BtVS AU/AR > FemmeSlash - Female/Female > Buffy/Faith Views: 12486 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own BtVS nor any characters. No money is made from this fic.

Chapter List
- 2
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- 4
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
“You know you have to live your life at your pace, Fai”, Cordelia said as she swung the cat-o-nine tails through the musty air, the thin leather strands slicing through the smells of motor oil and fabric softener until tender flesh felt it’s stinging gift.
CRACK!
“Yeah, I know Cor. But it’s not like I’m gonna be able to slow down anytime soon. With clients dropping out all the time Kendra and me have had to make some changes, y’know, lower the rates to entice what remaining customers we do have”, Faith sighed as she too swung her whip of a matching flailing thickness.
CRACK!
“You think things are gonna be that bad? There’s a whole world of kink out there just waiting for you”
CRACK!
“It’s not the money, you know it never has been. Like Daddy always told me and Angel to put ten percent of our paychecks in the bank, and I’ve got plenty of cash earning interest. But it’s just..”
CRACK!
“What?”
CRACK!
“It’s that chick I met in the park with Slayer. I can’t get her out of my mind”
CRACK!
At each well-aimed lashing of the cat-o-nine tails the flailing ends struck shaven skin making the woman who received the blows wince and bite into the wide ball gag buckled and locked into place. Her lips thinning as she grimaced through the fierce pain, her eyes weeping but the tears ran down from under the leather blindfold to her eyebrows before disappearing into her slowly thinning hairline. For Joyce was bound and inverted in her very own basement, her ankles held wide by the chrome steel spreader bar attached to the cuffs which were tightly fastened before the pulley was wrenched by Cordelia and Faith slowly dragging her legs further into the air until her body hung by the shackles so she now resembled a ‘Y’ shape. Joyce had told the handyman she employed for odd jobs around the house that the pulley was for the canoe she had bought that one vacation when she went kayaking but in reality she had a much more urgent task for the ropes which wrapped around the hook to hold her in place, swaying like the bound pet she was for the two hour she could afford.
“It’s not like she’s the only one who could love you”
“Yeah, I know I’ve got a whole rolodex full of girls who would willingly be mine…..but maybe it’s time I took a step back”
“You’re not thinking of selling The Book are you? I mean it’s The Book!”, spluttered Cordelia, “Can you even do that? Doesn’t Kendra own half?”
“Ken may be my partner in the quest but I own The Book. I paid for it and I won’t let it go for less than it’s worth, The Book has probably doubled in value now we have all these high ranking clients, once this murder thing washes over it’ll be worth a fucking fortune”
“But your clients need you, they need this shit just to survive. You know how to set limits and stick to them, you know shibari as well as Kendra and you look fucking hot in rubber”, Cordelia said as she took a sip of water with a hint of lime.
Faith looked at the struggling woman in front of her, silenced by the leather sealed around her pretty face. She sighed and thought about how jaded some people were, that nothing normal turns them on anymore and in their deviant minds, the kinkier the better was their mantra for life. But luckily Faith was open minded…and firm handed.
‘Mistress’. To Faith’s pets and slaves it was a word so seductive, so alluring that each utterance slipped from their lips which were parched by lust underpinned by a velvet desire, made their erotic needs shift into overdrive. A word they had built up in their psyche to fulfil their unrepentant sexual qualms and desires, like it was a verbal extension of their submissive souls.
But to Faith, who had heard it said in a million different ways, some from men dressed as maids and some from women who eeked it out round a mouthful of Faith’s shit, to her it had lost all meaning.
But she was a professional and even though it meant little to her anymore she still pretended to warm up with those syllables of unerring devotion but inside, she had lost her desire for this work. She had grown so disillusioned and burned out on the whole scene that her work was becoming mundane.
‘Mistress’. It was just another word used at work, the same way she had to use the word ‘pardner’ when she worked at the cowboy themed diner she waitressed in, though she became quite adept with the lasso and rode the mechanical bull until it groaned in submission, she could even tame a soulless beast with her manipulation of squeezing and teasing.
The word Mistress was a meaningless trinket, a by-product of her work and had learnt long ago to detach her domme life from her domestic life.
“Maybe we could start hiring your redheaded Bitch as a pro-sub or something. I know she’d do it”, said Cordelia as she inspected the prone ass cheeks aimed her, the same shade as the ruddy and wind burnt cheeks of a granite jawed Norwegian sailor.
“Of course it would, but one of us would have to be there anyway to make sure no-one fucked with my property so it would be pretty boring to just sit there and watch. Unless…..”
“Unless what?”
“We could use Bitch as an example, a teaching aid to show people the subtle art of domination. There’s so many naïve and clumsy asswipes out there who think that you get a collar, a whip and voila, fuck someone over. They really send out a pathetic message, don’t they know they’re just laughed at by the real fetish community?”
CRACK!
CRACK!
“Damn, maybe they should just stick to licking windows rather than poke their noses into our world. Little virgin dickheads”, snorted Cordelia at the clichéd nonsense that their world had been unfortunately shackled with.
“You know…… I won’t be doing this forever”, Faith sighed as her whip flew through the pheromone filled air over and over as the desperate grunting grew from Joyce.
“Why not?”
“I’ve made a shitload of money from this, but at what price? I’m alone yet desired by so many, professionally I’m adored but I spend my nights watching re-runs of MASH with a dog”
“What are you saying? You wanna retire? But you’re so fucking good at this”, exclaimed Cordelia worried that her best friend and mentor in the deviant arts was about to hang up her whip.
“I know. But having a slave like Bitch is all well and good, but I don’t love her, I barely even tolerate her. But she wants to be my pet so I let her, but I want to be able to have an actual conversation with someone who can actually think, not someone who agrees with me just because I own them”
CRACK!
“I understand that”
“Do you? I want a girl to snuggle on the sofa with as well as tie to a pony cart and whip as she pulls me around. Is it too much to ask for a lover who’ll submit to me as well as being enough of her own person to be an equal. Am I fucked up Cor?”
CRACK!
“Yeah, but no more than usual. Is this about that girl you met in the park?”, Cordelia asked with a hint of concern as the conversation veered back to that shy hippie once more.
“Tara? Maybe”
“You think you could really give up kink just like that? Even away from work you know how much it’s permeated every part of your life”
“I know I just never thought it’d grow like this”, shrugged Faith as she plunged three latex coated fingers into Joyce’s sopping pussy making the woman groan and buck. “Things have changed so much for me…I just don’t know what I want out of this anymore”
For Faith had started off in the latex business, getting a free apprenticeship with a company in LA in exchange for her modelling for them for photoshoots and at fetish expo’s. She soon tired of the cut and glue, cut and glue mundanity of it all and soon started making her own creations, but it was the allure of bringing her extremely kinky bedroom antics into the world of professional BDSM which was her calling. It was like a heady elixir of social damnation.
“And you think you could go cold turkey like that? I know you’re so swallowed in this shit that you need it”
“I just sometimes wish I’d kept in the boudoir”, Faith sighed as her fingers rapidly slid in and out of Joyce’s dampen nook, the bound woman whimpering as her pleasure rampaged through her system like hordes of drunken visigoths. “But that girl, Tara, I know she’d be reviled if she ever found out the truth of who I am”
“You’d really give up all this for the chance of real love?”, Cordelia asked as the thundercrack of twisted leather on pallid skin filled the basement once more.

“Wouldn’t you?”
CRACK!
“If only”, replied Cordelia as she reached down to adjust her garter strap, though her outfit was now hidden to Joyce, it was the build-up which excited the middle aged woman so much. It was the decisive part of the scenario for two hot women in latex dresses, suspenders and thigh high boots to enter her basement as she knelt silently awaiting them before they took control and dominated her. Making her strip slowly and expose her pussy and asshole to them before they locked the collar on her and made her crawl behind them on the clinking chain leash. Her head lowered as she licked their feet before tying her up and literally whipping her into a frenzy. It was her fantasy, her dime, so that’s what the two Mistresses did.
CRACK! CRACK!
As the whipping built in an intensity equal to the simmering orgasm within the menopausal woman Joyce whimpered as her pussy, freshly plucked of hair such was Mistress Faith’s order since their first session nearly a year ago, was so sore and red, peppered with angry red lines which curled round to tickle her puckering anus. The pain was so fierce, so delightful, that Joyce bit down hard on the ball gag which, after all the use it had gotten, had made a perfect dental imprint. She shivered thinking how mortified her daughter would be if she found the kinky pleasures she had been forced to repress all these years.
“She done yet?”, asked Cordelia as she reached down to pull on the fierce nipple clamps making Joyce scream into the ball gag as her whole body swung back and forth from the pulley.
“Nope, not yet”, replied Faith checking Joyce’s hands, though her wrists were bound high up her back her fingers remained clenched as was their agreement. With the large ball silencing any safety word Faith had made sure Joyce knew of the hand signals to show when she wanted the two woman, both of whom barely older than her daughter, to cease in their torment and delicious torture.
The urine dripped down into the rapidly forming pool below Joyce’s head after Cordelia ordered her to pee, the warm stream running down her stomach, across her stretch marks and breasts before soaking her face and finally dripping to the cold stone floor of the basement where, now her daughter was safely married off, she could indulge in her kinky secrets at her leisure.
“I can’t believe you’re seriously considering taking a permanent vacation. So did your shrink prescribe you more valium?”, said Faith as she circled around the prone woman, her heels clacking on the floor with a definite sound of impending menace, though the domme knew how much the simple sounds titillated the middle aged deviant.
“Yeah, but you know I never take it, I never have. I just give the prescriptions to Arnie so he can sell them to wacked out war veterans, I know it’s dodgy but he needs the money”
Joyce was too embarrassed to even be seen in the part of town where Mistress Faith and Mistress Kendra plied their trade so, as a gesture of goodwill, Faith agreed to come to her. Though house calls were very rare the Bostonian felt sorry for the woman who had played the downtrodden wife and mother for so long that Joyce felt ashamed of her sordid little peccadillos. For reasons unknown to Faith she could never bring herself to charge full price to this woman who lived a shadowed existence. Six months ago Faith asked Cordelia to join in for no extra charge, news that, upon hearing the idea, Joyce fingered herself to climax whilst in the office at her gallery.
“Nearly there Slave”, Faith said as her fingers angled in and pumped in the special way which drew her the nickname ‘Madam Fingers’ back in high school.
“So what do…..”, Cordelia asked before being cut off by the scream of utter bliss coming from behind the wide ball gag.
“Thar she blows!”, Faith chuckled victoriously as the plumes of sticky lady dew spit into the air
Joyce shuddered as the unadulterated pleasure ricocheted along her sweat laden skin, her eyes crossed as she floated away on a cloud crafter of exquisite agony and cunt plundering vibrations from the dextrous digits which could beckon an angel into sin. Her skin echoed with such burning satiety that her tears flowed freely, sobs racked her body for every second since her last session had been a constant waking bête noir with no ending until now.
“It’s ok… I gotcha…shhh, just ride the wave….”, said Faith as she saw the pre-determined hand gesture to signal that Joyce wanted to end their session. “Cordy, get the ropes would ya”
As the pulleys squeaked gently Faith helped Joyce’s battered and sore body down as Cordelia loosened the ropes letting her down, sore yet ultimately satisfied for this client preferred to be driven to the point of climax through her pain and only driven towards her orgasmic payoff once her skin was sore and puckered.
“You ok there, Joyce?”, asked Faith as she unbuckled the blindfold and gag offering a sweet smile as the dim light flooded Joyce’s eyes once more.
“Yes….thankyou….oh god that was so….”
“Glad you enjoyed it”, grinned Faith unfastening her wrists and ankles as Joyce lay in the pool of her own sweat and urine. “Sorry, but we have to go. Got a busy day”
“That’s fine….thankyou…..both of you, so so much”, Joyce said with a sniffle as she pressed her parched lip to Faith’s knuckles, partly through her tears of pain and pleasure but also through the knowledge that she wouldn’t enjoy such sensations for another two weeks.
“That’s cool. Come on Fai, I have to get to my colorist in an hour, my roots are starting to show and she gets really pissy when I’m late. I so need to shower and change”, Cordelia said sniffing the odours of urine and pussy juice that lingered on her hand from where she had pinched and teased Joyce’s throbbing clit.
“Right. Laters Joyce”, Faith said with a smile patting Joyce’s crown like a well-behaved pet.
“Bye girls, y-your money’s on the side by the cake”, Joyce swooned as her exhausted body battled to regain its composure as she slumped back into the stagnant pool of human excesses. Her blush wouldn’t subside for a good hour at having these two young women dominate her so extensively, at her desperate insistence.
“Oh, by the way….Slave”, Faith said with a wry wink signalling the encore which Joyce had begged for after her last session, and this day the domme was feeling generous, “Lick your filth up you little bitch, I want you to use that dirty tongue of yours on the floor like the pig you are and clean up every single droplet of pee. Then you can clean all the gags and whips, after that you may frig yourself, got me fuckface?”
“Yes Mistress”, replied the middle aged woman with a sparkle in her eyes and a humming returning to her whip-marked cunt, “Thankyou Mistress”
This was often the way things ended, Faith entrusted Joyce enough to know that she would obey her without hesitation, it was just a little extra she liked to give Joyce so could play on her own for a while at her own pace. Tasking her thusly was something that only the finest of clients got to enjoy.
Joyce always appreciated the extra effort Faith would make for her and, as a little thankyou, she would always make the doyenne of debauchery her special homemade coffee and walnut cake though she knew Faith wouldn’t eat it due to her strict watching of her figure. But Joyce knew that Slayer loved it so made it for her Mistress’ beloved hound, though neither would admit the truth. It was touches like this which Faith appreciated so much leading her to look upon Joyce as a kinky and slavish deviant aunt figure.
On occasion Faith had been known to swing by Joyce’s just for coffee and a chat, nothing kinky though it always ended with the older woman stripped naked and spanked to orgasm as a thankyou for listening to the deviant brunette. Like an agony aunt with the emphasis on agony.
Closing the basement door Faith breathed freely as her eyes scoured the spotless kitchen, taking the envelope of money and the cake the rubber clad Mistress pulled her thigh length boots off and stuffed them in her bag, removing the baggy TSOL t-shirt and jogging pants to slip over her shining latex mini dress for she knew how much Joyce needed her privacy and, as with all her clients, Faith knew the need for discretion. As she waited for Cordelia to put on her hoodie and bell bottomed jeans Faith’s fingers trailed over the photo on the mantelpiece of Joyce and Buffy smiling besides a Christmas tree, she sighed wishing that families could be more open and honest and find the common ground of sexual perversion rather than drift away like this family had. Joyce had told her so over coffee many times.
“Ready?”, asked Cordelia as she threw her bag over one shoulder and touched up her lipstick in the hallway mirror.
“Yeah, lets’ go”, replied Faith as she checked the messages on her phone as they stepped out into the mid-morning light, envelope and keys clutched tightly in her other hand as she unlocked the car.
“Here ya go Cor”, said Faith as she quickly counted the money and handed half to her best friend. Her clients preferred cash as they wanted no paper trail or credit card receipts or checks which would probably bounce anyway.
“Hey, that’s more than half”
“You earned it, like I was saying. I think it’s time you made the switch to full time domme, the money’s twenty times better that what you get working at the vet’s and you’re such a natural. You shouldn’t fight it, babe”, Faith enthused as she turned the key in the ignition ready to pull away from the façade of humdrum suburbia.
“I…..let me think about it ok?”, Cordelia said as she leafed through the crisp dollar bills, she knew for some time that such a career move was viable but without Faith to hold her hand through it she really was uncomfortable flying solo. As evidenced by the session at the dungeon with that tall Englishman who had a panic attack when the electrodes attached to his scrotum were turned up too high, it was lucky Faith reacted quickly before a lawsuit could rear its ugly head.
‘Too Drunk To Fuck’ ricocheted from the speakers before Faith flicked the cd to ‘Kinky Sex Makes The World Go Round’ making her smile mischievously, though the song was one of the lesser Dead Kennedy’s songs, it was an anthem whose sentiment summed up the true nature of humanity.
As they pulled away they paid little attention to the shy blue sedan parked opposite where a lens poked through the half unwound window.

Meanwhile across town

As Buffy drew into the anonymous driveway outside her house she tossed her papers and files into her briefcase before stepping out into the glowering afternoon sun adjusting her moist panties. Her kitten heels pecked at the asphalt for she had one thing on her mind, one low rumbling desire which had scratched away at her soul for the last two hours ever since Dawn came to her office at the school wearing her criminally short plaid skirt which had made Buffy writhe awkwardly in her cream skirt suit.
Due to a minor disagreement with the captain of the hockey team Dawn had been sent to the school counsellor and as she sauntered into the office she didn’t notice Buffy’s eyes snap open and her knees clamp shut to disguise her growing ardour. As Dawn vented her feelings Buffy felt no professional capacity to offer constructive criticism, she just stared at those cute breasts poking out from the missing button on her shirt, her tie hanging limply across them. Buffy couldn’t hear a word as she became fixated on that delicious looking mouth and daydreamed about those soft lips barking orders out to her as she crawled about in servile obedience. Those perfect teeth drawing back to spit out commands as Dawn’s latex clad hand gripped the posture collar around her neck and swung the wide keeper of the riding crop across her taut nipples. But daydreams were all they could ever be.
Once Dawn left her office Buffy couldn’t make her brain function in any rational way, falsely claiming a growing migraine she left work early in hope that she could sink into a hot bath and masturbate herself to a mind fuddling frenzy as the image of Dawn in the tight school uniform was branded into her head. Her name on Buffy’s drying and cracked tongue for her secret crush was blissfully unaware of her desires.
“Oh hi honey, you’re home early”, came Riley’s unwelcome voice as she entered their bland and vanilla decorated home, his cheery voice shattering Buffy’s heart in a nanosecond making her libido judder to a halt.
“Oh….yeah….I…..migraine”, she spluttered out as her shoulder slumped a little more in sadness as she saw someone else lurking in the background. Someone with the gall to use the fine china she only ever brought on at Xmas.
“This is Lilah Morgan, she just arrived in town this morning”, Riley said motioning to the woman with sombre make up to match her dour suit. “She’s here to help clean up our sleepy little burg, she’s on a moral crusade and we’re going to do all we can to help her”
“We?”, blurted out Buffy seeing the large jewel encrusted crucifix dangling from Lilah’s slender neck.
“Well as Riley is such a fine church leader I thought it was wise for us to join forces if you will, and together we can drive out the filth and perversion in this town”, Lilah said affirmatively as she beckoned Buffy over to the dining table to show her a myriad of images and files.
“Indeed, just look at these. But I warn you, they are vile in the extreme and a good Christian soul should never have to witness such debauchery”, she said handing over a few photographs of Faith, looking stunning in her red latex catsuit with her hair flailing around like some ancient Greek deity, whipping an unknown man on his tightly bound scrotum.
“Oh my…..Lord in heaven save us from this monster”, Riley gasped looking on at the black and white pictures as he briefly passed them to his wife who flinched at seeing her Mistress captured on film, “Buffy, can you believe such a creature exists in our town. I swear in the name of Jesus to rid us of this harlot”
“I see your wife is uncomfortable looking at such devilry. Understandable really”, Lilah said as Buffy blushed fiercely for Riley was ignorant to the needs of the common populace, let alone that his wife was a client of the lady they were set to demonise in their Neo-McCarthyist witch hunt.
“Absolutely, Buffy is a sheltered girl and rightly so. Honey, go and make us some tea would you?”
“Yes…of course”, she said back numbly.
“I see your wife always backs you to the hilt”, Lilah said as Buffy fidgeted awkwardly as her sopping wet panties were beginning to dry and chafe on her smooth mound.

“Indeed, she’s everything a man could ask for”, Riley said pulling her into an awkward hug and kissed the top of her head as she fired of the false smile she had perfected in the days since they exchanged vows.
“I……I’ll go make the tea then”, replied Buffy as she slinked off the kitchen.
“Such a good wife”, Lilah said taking her place on the sofa and demurely smoothing out her skirt, “So meek and obedient, the way every good homemaker should be. Though I believe you’re very lenient with her, letting her go out to work”
“I thought I’d indulge her for now, as soon as the children come along she’ll give up work and be the perfect wife and mother”, he agreed.
But Buffy could hear the words clearly through the open kitchen door, for she was far from a contented wife and wished to be free of Riley and the slice of hell she had created for herself, her façade would placate him for now but inside she raged with desire and yearned to be with another.
To be with Dawn, at her beck and call. On her knees. Wearing her collar.
Little did Riley know that Buffy was secretly taking birth control pills, she knew he would fly into a rage if ever he found out, but she believed that bringing a child into a loveless sham of a marriage was an act of pure cruelty. As her self-loathing simmered she missed the next part of the conversation only zoning back in as their voices rose and dripped with disgust.
“These vile pinko flag burning pro-choice liberals with their freedom of speech nonsense will be shown the error of their ways, for God is always stronger than Government”
“Absolutely”, Riley agreed turning away in disgust at the photos she was showing him of a latina woman with shit smeared over her face while Faith laughed over her, “Have you heard that some of these people have been murdered?”
“It’s the will of the Lord showing them that the path to damnation is through this Faith woman”, Lilah said firmly as she clutched her trinket crucifix, her moral indignation, as usual, brimming with misdirected venom.
“Indeed. But what makes a god fearing soul turn to such evil ways?”, tutted Riley as his faux superiority kicked in totally blind to the fact that his wife was a regular client to the den of debauchery they wished to destroy.
“There are many things that can cloud the judgment of these poor wretches who claim to make up our society. Role conflict, devaluation, non-conscious ideology, institutionalized chauvinism, authoritarian personalities, displaced aggression, overgeneralization, should I go on?”, asked Lilah as she rattled off the quotes from right wing psychology majors wanting to make their marks in this disposable society by acting like simpering serfs to their cash wielding masters, blissfully unaware that they too were playing Mistress and Slave roles. But in a more acceptable version, commonly known as capitalism.
“But how do we go about her fall?”
“She’s already a fallen woman”, sneered Lilah as she smoothed down the lapels of her expensive, yet dour suit, paid for with the donations from her flock of hate fuelled fools, “But I already have things in motion. A few days ago I hired a Private Investigator by the name of Mr Gunn, he’s been tailing her and taking photographs of everyone this Faith comes in contact with…..”
Her words broke off by the smashing of cups and saucers in the kitchen as Buffy dropped the tea tray as she froze in panic.
“You ok, honey?”, called Riley.
“Y-yes….I….sorry….”, she coughed as all color drained from her face and her fingers shook with dread.
“You were saying, Lilah?”
“Yes, though Mr Gunn said he some trouble with his camera yesterday”, she replied not hearing the full throated sigh of relief from the kitchen, “We have photos of the Chief of Police, the school Principal and several prominent business leaders of the community. We can use these pictures to get exactly what we want. We will tell them that these photos will be released to the public unless they turn on Faith and testify against her, saying she was blackmailing them and took pleasure in hurting them against their will. With charges like extortion, assault and battery as well as the corruption of minors we could have her locked up for twenty years, it will drive the perverts from this pretty little town and our church could salvage those remaining souls”
“A wonderful idea, Lilah”, said Riley in firm agreement, “We will see the end of deviancy in Sunnydale within a week!”
Buffy’s breath barbed within her throat as panic gripped her mind, she knew she had to tell her beloved Mistress of this monstrous scheme but with Riley always seemingly within earshot she knew she had to bide her time.
Across town, later that evening
As the sun descended to its lazy repose and the goddess of the moon took to her throne, a pretty young hippie slipped along under the trail of amber streetlights and onto a bland and indifferent driveway where a portly nurse stepped from her front door.
“Tara, you’re home”, said Mrs Holmes as she slung her purse into the passenger seat of her car before clambering in. “I’m on the graveyard shift so I’ll see you for breakfast, ok?”
“Ok, bye Ma’am. D-drive safely”, blustered back Tara with her customary blush as she fidgeted with her ankle length skirt and hemp tote bag bearing a CND badge for she was desperate to disrobe and scratch that secret itch she needed to.
As Tara waved goodbye to her landlady she turned and headed to the set of wooden stairs leading to the small but comfortable apartment built above the garage. She was happy to be living with Mrs Holmes as the nurse would work long shifts at the hospital and was adamant about giving the young woman her privacy so never bothered her, but more than that it left the pretty hippie many hours in which to explore her desires without fear of being caught.
Though most would see her work at the musty old book store boring and unfulfilling, Tara knew in her heart what it truly felt like to be unfulfilled.
Her boss, Mr Giles, was a kind and gentile soul who treated her well but she steadfastly refused to use her initiative as she needed to be told what to do. Not because she was incompetent but her soul needed to follow the lead of a stronger personality, though she felt no sexual stirrings when under his wavering command, it was the only thing she had. For it was her sordid little perversions which scared her for she truly was a person who was thrilled at being controlled, being told what to do, what to wear, even what to say and to whom, she truly desired to be owned but in a safe and loving way.
Like most people she worked in a place where her degree wasn’t utilised in the slightest and despite earning a scholarship for the first two years of college, she still found herself floundering in debt. But she was a realist, she knew that the world of an art critic was a savage and cruel world and it was a career which was never going to flourish for her as she didn’t have that killer instinct one needed in the public media.
Dead-bolting the apartment door Tara stepped towards the open plan living space and stripped off her purposely baggy clothing in a flurry of fabrics and the purr of desire. Her nipple clamps she seldom removed, which were soft but had a teasing bite to them, swaying and catching the light as she closed the blinds, before removing the slat in the bottom of her wardrobe the young woman breathed a sigh of excitement as her eyes danced with joy for it had been a long week, even longer since her chance meeting with a certain gorgeous brunette whose face hadn’t left her mind.
Putting the slat to one side her hands slipped into the hidey hole to remove her restraints, the rattling of chains and the clink of locks made her shiver with a peace she only felt when bound. She had been saving for a visit to a real Mistress for a long time but she had no idea how everything out West was so expensive so it was taking it’s time to earn enough to satisfy her carnal cravings. Plus her shyness was so crippling that she feared she would chicken out and run the first time she met a real latex clad dominatrix in the flesh and not just in the dreams she had since puberty took its first savage bite.
As Tara slipped the thick leather cuffs around her ankles she felt the familiar and much needed twinge in her pussy as the padlocks sealed with a delicious clink. Reaching to her throbbing slit she wished she could afford a real chastity belt and not just the home made knock up she had made from a jock-strap, some duct tape and a couple of chains bought from a pet store. Though she was proud of her DIY approach to bondage it lacked any real power, it was the only reason she wore baggy tops and long flowing skirts for in the folds and billows of her whimsical attire she could hide any bulge or tell-tale curve of the chastity belt.
She struggled to get the wrist cuffs on before sliding the rigid posture collar around her neck, the blood thundered in her ears as she pulled back the duvet to reveal a thick plastic sheet usually used for lining garden ponds. It crackled as she sat on it whilst placing the ring gag in her mouth which made her drool prodigiously, it didn’t stretch her soft peachy lips as wide as she liked but she couldn’t afford another one just yet and after having her landlady nearly open her package containing her wide and penetrating butt plug she decided that mail order was out of the question and so a monthly visit to the sordid and overpriced stores of LA would have to suffice.
Locking the spreader bar between her ankle cuffs Tara leaned back on the bed feeling her moist inner core heat up and she whimpered through her restraints, her arms reached back to the wrought iron bedframe where she clipped the D-ring into place with the combination padlocks which, through dextrous manipulation, could be removed once the right numbers were in place. She wished more than anything for someone to lock her in place without escape but she couldn’t bear the thought of her rather pious landlady finding her in such a position for though the humiliation of exposure would thrill her in ways she dreamed of, she knew that she would be asked to leave the small but comfy apartment.
Writhing on her bed she whined at the delicious feeling of helplessness that scoured her soul making her pussy dribble through the makeshift chastity device and onto the plastic sheet that pressed into her creamy flesh. But as Tara lay in muted silence there was just one image in her delighted mind, just one name on her restrained tongue. Faith.
For this mysterious brunette’s eyes were so lively, her smile so warm, and she had a killer rack to boot. But Tara let a single tear run for she knew this Faith woman was destined to be just another character in her masturbational fantasies, as she knew in her heart she was just a shy wallflower that would never be picked. She could never get a woman like Faith to show her love, and with her kinky desires Tara knew that even if she met her again she could never broach such a subject to her. She let her eyes sting with tears for there was nothing she wouldn’t do to have a woman like Faith in her life.
As Tara melted into the rigid feeling of her taut body she hummed with pleasure but such joy battled with her heart’s true knowledge that she would be forever sad and alone. As the salty tear dribbled down her cheek she winced as she once more thought of Faith – the woman she would never get a chance to know as just one thought echoed in Tara’s mind.
‘How can I possibly tell her what I do?’
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Diary Of A Dominatrix