Memories Of Long Tall Mary

MEMORIES OF LONG TALL MARY Part 75     by Long Tall Mary

In recent months my dominatrix sessions have dropped to a trickle. Noreen still sessions subs at my dungeon, and not infrequently I assist her. My downtown Syracuse bar still prospers and I find myself being actively involved with it more than ever. By that I mean being there personally to oversee business rather than entrusting it to my manager Patti, however competent she is.

Karaoke in particular has flourished in recent months, and I now schedule it two days a week, Thursday and Saturday. The regulars tolerate it but more importantly it has brought in a steady stream of new customers. Fortunately most of them are heavier drinkers, as increased sales are necessary to offset the costs of paying the karaoke producer.

One such new customer was present on a recent Thursday evening. This was Karen, a twenty three year old, relatively petite brunette. While she didn’t sing, she was with a group of females who were singers. Karen took frequent smoke breaks outside, such is the price of being in the bar business in New York, and it didn’t appear to me she was intent on teasing males. She bought her own drinks and somehow managed to avoid interacting with the male predators, which are quick to hit on an attractive and unaccompanied female. Perhaps predator is too strong a characterization, lets just say the normal male cunt hound that frequents pick up bars.

About an hour into the show, Karen approached me as I sat alone at the end of the bar. Very nervously she said “Hi, my name is Karen, could I ask you a personal question”. “Yes”, I replied, having no idea what to expect. “Are you a dominatrix” was her question. I’m not particularly fond of strangers making such an inquiry, but something about Karen’s demeanor didn’t rub me the wrong way.

“And why might that be of concern to you” was my reply. I could tell this was a difficult conversation for Karen, but she continued, “I know this sounds silly but I have this fantasy of another woman tying me up”. Her inquiry seemed sincere, and I assured her the fantasy was not silly. Rather than discuss the matter further at the tavern I gave her my cell number and suggested she call the next day between 10:00 and 10:30 in the morning. She thanked me and promised to call.

My initial impression was that she was not a lesbian and this was strengthened by my observation that she interacted with other male customers periodically throughout the evening, but mostly with the other females in the group. Around midnight, somewhat inebriated, and after about six smoke breaks she and her friends left; on the way out she thanked me for permitting me to call the next day.

At 10:15 the next morning she called, and immediately my interrogation to learn more about her commenced. Karen insisted she was a heterosexual, had no current boy friend, and while not intolerant of lesbians, had no experience in that area. Her bondage experience was very limited. The product of a broken home and alcoholic parents’, her stepfather had tied her up for punishment several times. She had remained fully clothed and no sexual contact occurred. Karen stated that she was turned on when tied up, but never confided that fantasy to anyone or made any effort to have it materialize.

Karen indicated a preference for simple restraint with no sex or torture. While continuing to profess heterosexuality, she stated she simply felt more comfortable at the hands of a female, as opposed to a male. No one who patronizes my dungeon escapes with just being tied up; the sub is at my mercy. However I have no qualms about luring someone to my dungeon with such a promise, then springing a surprise on them. I’ve forced homophobic males to have sex with other males, and male hating lesbians to have sex with them. Such duplicity has long been my trademark and is well known in local bondage circles.

Karen agreed to be at my dungeon the next day at 11:00AM. Her financial situation was rather dire; she was employed as a convenient store clerk at minimum wage, lived alone in a small North Syracuse flat owned by her grandmother, and was struggling to make ends meet. On occasion I will waive my session fee if I feel the sub is worthy of it, and this was one such case.

Noreen was present as she had a male sub session scheduled for 12:30, and well I didn’t expect to require any assistance with Karen, it was available if needed. I intended to session Karen upstairs in the living room and bedroom leaving the dungeon free for the male sub, and preventing one from seeing the other. I had seriously considered inviting a guest male bondage trainer for Karen, but in the end I decided against it.

Karen was attired in jeans with a tight red sweater and was well made up. It isn’t the attire I prefer for female subs, but I hadn’t made my preferences known earlier, so it was unfair to fault her. She seemed rather surprised at seeing Noreen, and to ease any anxiety I assured her that Noreen wouldn’t be participating or observing in our session.

I invited Karen into the living room and rather bluntly told her to undress. This took her by surprise and prompted her to question what she thought was the agreement, that it was to be a fully clothed session, with no sex. It was time to explain the facts of dungeon life to Karen. Because of her lack of experience and the fact that she hadn’t otherwise incurred my disfavor, I refrained from forcibly stripping her as I would otherwise do.

I explained to her that all submissives at my dungeon are required to strip naked, and that she must have misunderstood what I told her on the phone. On the phone I conveniently evaded the issue fearing she might change her mind about a session. “Why don’t you let me forcibly strip you or perhaps I’ll have Noreen do it instead” I remarked wryly. She was definitely scared and my comment did little to alleviate it.

Noreen, who had been in the adjoining room, heard my comment and popped into the living room. “I love stripping young sluts” she quipped, only adding to Karen’s consternation.”I’m not a slut” retorted Karen, but presence of two intimidating dominatrix was sufficient to induce her to strip without further protest. She did have to be prodded to remove her underwear, something that never occurs with male subs.

Noreen persisted in her intrusiveness by remarking “Let me take her down and introduce her to the dungeon”. “That won’t be necessary”, I snapped and Noreen abruptly left the room. She is well aware of my attitude towards guest trainers; they act only upon explicit direction from myself and refrain from any unsolicited remarks or action.

All of this was quite unsettling to Karen, who expected that being tied up with her clothes on would be the extent of her bondage. I now had a chance to observe her naked. She wasn’t exceptionally endowed in any of her features but was basically good looking. The fact that her 5’5” frame probably didn’t exceed 125 pounds was likely a product of her habitual smoking. She sported shoulder length brown hair and a full mound of pussy.

In a few minutes I had her tightly roped in a hogtie position and lying on the couch. Her breasts were not particularly suitable for roping, and her elbows were too tight and I substituted a crotch tie in place of it. This consisted of rope encircling her waist, extending underneath her crotch and tied off in the front and back. Before doing this I inserted a six inch dildo into her well lubricated cunt without any difficulty; the crotch rope would keep it in place, and the orgasms induced by the remote controlled vibrator would keep her in constant erotic torment.

Karen didn’t physically resist my roping her, but she was quite vocal in protesting my efforts, with her protests reaching a crescendo as I inserted the vaginal intruder. Ordinarily I don’t permit a sub to speak without permission and I either gag them, or deliver a demo lash after making them aware of my rule. With the rope work complete I decided I had heard enough from Karen and a rubber penis gag silenced her; this was attached to a face harness device which was trapped tightly into place. As she continued to protest through the gag, I took my flogger and gave a stinging lash to her breasts. This brought an end to the protests.

I stood back to admire my captive cutie lying helpless and naked on the floor. In a few minutes I would make known to her the curriculum for subs at my dungeon. But first a brief rest was in order for me and I sat on the couch, going over some messages on my cell. To keep Karen occupied the vibrator was switched on random, with the speed fluctuating between four different levels. In fairness it is difficult for a sub to resist erotic moaning under these circumstances, so I allowed her to do so.

It has long been my perception that subs who are not basically sluts will resist moaning for as long as possible, whereas the slut type will have no such hesitation. Karen’s reaction was typical of a slut, but I kept that thought to myself.

Forced submission is an inherently traumatic experience and I do everything reasonably possible to minimize its effects, at least in situations like Karen’s, where her naiveté about bondage resulted in an unexpected predicament. Ordinarily I require a female sub to use her mouth to pleasure my cunt and asshole.  In this case I decided to modify that by attaching an eight inch polyurethane external dildo to her gag, which already consisted of an internal rubber dildo. This would spare her the ordeal of direct contact between her mouth and my cunt.

I then delivered my monologue to Karen, who wasn’t tossing and turning in her rigid hogtie, but continued to moan as the intruder buzzed away. Her session would last two hours with the first hour in her current position. The next hour would consist of an introduction to flogging and nipple clamps, followed by her using her dildo gag to fuck my cunt. To make the first hour a little more bearable I put one of my heavy BDSM torture videos in the DVD player, cranked up the volume and ordered her to watch it continuously.

Actually Karen was getting a “bondage light” session. Had it not been for Noreen’s male sub, I probably would have confined Karen to the downstairs dungeon for a much longer period. As it stood she would not see the dungeon during her stay, but hopefully she would elect to have a future session, which would be in the dungeon.

Realistically it was apparent by now that Karen’s bondage preferences were rather shallow; she preferred simple damsel in distress themes and was fearful of any type of sex being forced upon her, at least by a female. I regretted not having made arrangements for a male bondage trainer to be present, as it would have been interesting to see her reaction to male domination. None the less I would turn on my charm before the end of the session, and was confident that no permanent enmity would result between the two of us.

For the next ten minutes I sat on the couch making two cell calls, as Karen writhed on the floor, the intruder humming away, and struggling against her bondage. While a sub quickly realizes its futility, the struggling only serves to enhance the erotic gratification of the experience. With my calls completed, I turned off the torture video and contented myself with watching “The Price is Right” on TV for the remainder of the hour.

As the second hour of Karen’s session got under way, I teased her a bit by commenting on the dildo protruding externally on her face harness, and how it would be entertaining to take a picture of her and display it at the bar. She took this quite seriously and was emphatic in protesting the idea. The internal portion of the dildo gag was quite effective in preventing any intelligible speech by her.

After turning off the vibrator I released Karen from the hogtie connector and made her kneel before me at rigid attention. It took a few stings from my crop to her boobs, but she finally maintained the right position. No basic training for a submissive would be complete without leash training, so I put a leather collar with an attached leash on her.

It is difficult to walk with your ankles tied together, as well as your wrists behind your back and crotch tied, but I was in no mood to modify her restraints. Instead of walking or crawling about the room, she would hop while being led by the leash, all to the tune of “At the Hop” by Danny and the Juniors, piped over my sound system.

Despite being warned that a penalty would be incurred for falling, she did exactly that, and received several lashes from my flogger before I yanked her back on her feet. After five minutes of hopping Karen was near breathless; these chronic smokers just don’t have the ability to do well at aerobics.

Coupled with the aerobics workout, I made certain she received an adequate introduction to the flogger, crop and nipple clamps. Her pain tolerance for the floggings was moderate, but for the nipple torture it was on the low side. From a kneeling position I used a short chain to yank the clamps back and forth, eliciting a response of extreme pain. A certain percentage of subs simply can not tolerate nipple bondage, but at least I had the satisfaction of observing her extremely painful response.

With her aerobics and flagellation work complete it was time for her to perform what she would find the most distasteful part of the session, using her mouth dildo to fuck my count. I had spared her the enunciation phase of the session and wouldn’t require her to use her mouth directly to fuck either my cunt or asshole. Ideally she would be confined overnight and given a more comprehensive session, but two hours would have to suffice.

Karen clearly wasn’t elated as I sat on the couch, with my crotch exposed, and ordered her to begin fucking it with her mouth dildo, but she knew what the price of defiance would be. For the next ten minutes I found it immensely pleasurable as she struggled to maintain her kneeling position, while performing the thrusting movements with the dildo. So many female subs have used their mouth on my cunt and asshole over the years that one tends to become desensitized to it. The fact that I seldom use this particular technique, coupled with Karen’s intense dislike for lesbian sex, proved to be quite invigorating for me.

Just then my cell rang and even though I didn’t recognize the number, I answered it. Indeed it was a jolt! The caller was Felicia Porter, my ex associate dominatrix, and she was calling from of all places her cell at the Albion Correctional Facility. The prison culture being as corrupt as it is, she had managed to procure a cell phone and make the call, in violation of prison regulations of course.

It only added to Karen’s humiliation that I described over the phone what was taking place, and I’m certain Felicia was envious as well. The gist of the call was that she would be having her parole hearing in six weeks and requested that I provide her with room and board, should she be released.

This evoked memories of the last time Felicia boarded with me, she had used my home phone to make a threatening call. When the police came to arrest her, they came to my house. It was a harrowing experience, but the police didn’t enter my home. The thought of police rummaging about is quite unsettling to someone who operates a dominatrix business inside their home.

In no uncertain times I rejected her proposal but I did offer limited financial support, should she be released. Felicia had provided several years of adequate service to me and was deserving of some aid in time of need, but her habitual drug use predisposes her to committing one type of crime or another. I’ve had enough encounters with police and the State Liquor Authority over the years and having Felicia as a housemate would almost certainly lead to others. Felicia had to cut her call short as a guard was approaching, but it was agreed I would visit her in prison within the next month and we would discuss her future.

It was time to free Karen from her restraints and to have a friendly chat with her before she departed. This is always a challenge in a situation in which sex is forced upon someone, but I can be quite convincing at feigning concern for the sub’s welfare. After Karen was dressed, I offered her a vodka and tea, which was she had been drinking at the bar. She declined, so to improve her comfort level I permitted her to smoke; I have a long standing rule against household smoking. Again she spurned my offer.

Only the fact that I informed Karen earlier that my doors were electronically locked, kept her from bolting from the house. She sat nervously on the couch, as I sat next to her and said everything I could to alleviate her obvious bitterness because of the forced sex. I offered her a free night of drink at the bar in the future, as well as an additional free session at the dungeon.

Not surprisingly Karen declined both offers, and did her best to do so in a polite way, least I force additional bondage upon her. After about ten minutes it was apparent I was getting nowhere, so I allowed her to leave. I never saw her again. The next week I saw one of the girls who had been in Karen’s entourage the previous week, and I inquired as to her welfare. Karen had met some guy on the Internet, quit her job and moved to Philadelphia.

Apparently Karen had not told her friends about the bondage encounter, so I took a chance and asked for her partners Email address on the pretense I had something important to ask her. She had mentioned previously her own account had been suspended.  The partner’s was an AOL address and when I looked up the profile it contained the following information: Name: Sir Arthur, Interests: BDSM, seeking 24/7 female slave.

Some things just can’t be explained!

END PART 75