Pleasure + Pain = Mystery Ch. 01

"You want me to write a story about what?" I sat there across from my feature editor Phillip and wondered if possibly your hearing could go bad just like that.

"I want you to give me 10,000 words on the B&D, you know, bondage and domination scene here in Seattle."

I ran a hand through my hair, "Jesus, Phil, isn't that something best left to Jerry Springer or say one of the tabloids?"

He sat there, a slight smile crossing his rather weary looking face. "Jonathan, I know this is going to come as a bit of a shock to you but we are a tabloid. Maybe not in your eyes, but in our readers and since we haven't found the Loch Ness Monster, sighted Elvis or discovered how to lose 30 pounds in 30 days in quite some time, this is what we've decided upon." Before I could utter another word of protest he won't on to say, "Look Jonathan, sex sells. In advertising, on TV, on the big screen and in print. End of story."

I threw my arms up, "Fine. How do you expect me to research something I know nothing about? Take out a personal ad?"

SUBMISSIVE MALE SEEKS DOMINANT FEMALE FOR INTELLIGENT CONVERSATION. PLEASE RESPOND TO 555-1212. That was the ad, it wasn't the results. I heard from women who wanted "tributes" also known as cash. Others who demanded I get down on my knees now and some people who just called to tell me how sick I was. They must have known how I felt. Then, there was this response.

"My name is Rebecca and I'm answering your ad. It sounds, intriguing. I'll be at the Café Lane at four o'clock on Friday afternoon if you're interested in talking." My thoughts were since it didn't involve money, yet, my knees, which surgery certainly hadn't helped or someone telling me what a pervert I was, yet still being the operative word, I thought why not. I sat there Friday at four with my drink in hand and watched the door looking for the lady.

A few minutes later thinking I should have known this was a bad idea in walked a woman for which all the descriptions of beauty had been written for. Some women wear their looks like a shield to protect them from harm, others like a beacon to pull others into their light. This woman, she wore hers, for lack of a better word, regally. Dressed in a dark business suit she let her gaze run across the room before stopping on mine. A bit of a smile filled her face as she walked to the table where I sat and said, "Submissive male I presume?"

I almost knocked my drink over getting to my feet to pull her chair out and her eyes danced at the sight of my obvious discomfort. As I sat back down I found myself fighting to keep my voice calm asking, "How did you know?"

"Well, you have a writing tablet, a pen and a recorder in front of you. You did say you wanted to talk, didn't you? Of course you have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You know my name" and she sat there just smiling. It took me a moment or two before I caught on and extended my hand, "Jonathan, Jonathan Samuels."

My hand stayed there in space until self consciously I let it slide back into my lap once again noticing how she took pleasure in my rather uncomfortable position. "Now, Jonathan, you look surprised. Did you think I'd arrive in black leather, high heels and carrying a whip?"

"Well, yes. I mean, no I just thought you might..." and as I stuttered and mumbled myself into an incoherent mess all I could think about was how the transference of power or control of the meeting had shifted from the moment she walked in the door.

As my words finally trailed off into nothingness the waiter came over and asked if she would care for something to drink. "Vodka martini please" and it did help me to see how he lingered over her, the effect she had not just reserved for me. As he hurried to fill the order her eyes once again found mine, "I'm going to take a guess here. You're not a submissive male, though I do believe you've got the quality to be. Am I right?" I felt the heat of my blush rush to my face as my eyes looked downward as I told her about my assignment and the response I'd had so far.

Her drink arrived and she took a sip before replying. "Tributes are for amateurs. Players who take advantage of the weak and use them to increase their stock portfolio. Getting down on your knees is a nice place to start but I prefer to see my, shall we say subjects naked first to see what I have to work with. Oh, and I'll reserve judgement on you being a pervert until I know for sure. By the way, did you want to start your recorder or take some notes on this?" I knocked the recorder off the table in my haste to start it and once again her grin told me just how much she was enjoying the little tet'a'tet.

We sat there for an hour, me listening, her talking about her "craft." She obviously took great pride in her subjects, bottoms being the correct term for a submissive individual. "Tops are people such as myself, dominants whether male or female. Tell me Jonathan, why did you place the ad as a submissive? Are you trying to tell me something?" Once again my mannerisms and faltering speech showing my naivete and this time it drew a deep-throated laugh from my tormentor.

"You must forgive me Jonathan, the role I play calls for not only physical and visual stimulation but verbal as well. The transference of power that the submissive desires is great. They want total control to be taken by the, in my case, dominatrix. By making them uncomfortable whether by teasing, taunting, why by even humiliating them, it's all part of the process. It's what they desire, it's what they crave."

When my recorder clicked off signaling the end of the tape I jumped visually from even that simple sound, a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by my beautiful guest. Her voice went down another octave and her eyes turned dark as she spoke saying, "A true submissive finds their senses heightened as sounds, touches, sights can affect them in so many ways that a dominant will use to their advantage. The body is easily possessed, the mind not so. Once the mind is lost then all is lost."

Her eyes once again returned to normal as she smiled and asked if that was all? "No, no, can we please meet again? I have so many more questions I'd like to ask" though for the likes of me I couldn't imagine them or had any idea why I wanted so desperately to see her.

"Well then, tell me. How deeply do you want to research your piece? How far are you willing to go?" My enthusiasm obviously pleased her and she asked me to give her a telephone number where I could be reached and then she was gone.

"So, what have you got?" I sat across from Phil's desk and wondered how to answer him.

"Not much, I need more time. I've got someone on the inside but we've only talked once."

"Okay, when are you supposed to meet again?"

"I don't know, she took my number and said she'd call."

"She said she would call?"

"Well, she said she might call and she's the best bet I've got. She's, she's incredible Phil. Like no one I've ever met before."

His look caught me off guard and I found myself defending a woman I'd only met once but hoped I'd meet again. "Fine, keep me posted."

The telephone call came at seven that evening. "Hello submissive, do you know who this is?" "Rebecca?" "1425 Sandy Lane, nine o'clock tonight. Don't be late and don't disappoint me." The line went dead and my heart soared. I spent the next hour getting ready and then driving to the designated address.

A voluptuous redheaded beauty that said her name was Beth and that she was Rebecca's assistant answered the knock on the door. "She's prepared a room for you, please, follow me." The room she directed me too had a full view mirror in it, a single chair and an envelope with the initial J on it.

I sat down, opened the envelope and began to read. "Dear Submissive, welcome. I have made arrangements tonight for you to view my first encounter with a prospective bottom. This woman has come to me with the express interest of being schooled in submitting to another female's desires. Her interest in this is like many other women, she feels she must be forced and then she can enjoy it. She has agreed to allow you to observe and has also said that she will allow you to interview her as long as her identity remains a secret. The two-way mirror here will allow you to see and the speakers mounted above will enable you to hear everything that goes on. Have fun." The letter was signed R.

It wasn't long before the lights muted and I saw a door open and a single woman being pushed into the room. The sound of a key turning and I watched as she tried to turn the doorknob only to find it locked. She turned and walked toward the center of the room where the light was the brightest, her face visibly flushed. The woman, whom I've decided to call Lady M, looked to be in her late twenties, early thirties, dark hair, quite attractive with a look in her eyes showing a mixture of concern and excitement. She stood there, turning from one side of the room to the next, wondering what was about to happen. So was I.

Then, stepping out from the shadows, there was Rebecca. Would you like to guess what she was wearing? Black leather, heels and oh, by the way, carrying a whip. I know inside she was laughing uproariously at me but the effect she had on her mystery guest was quite unnerving. "Strip" was the single word that came from the top's lips and when the woman didn't move fast enough to satisfy her the whip cracked once and clothes began to fly like a sale at Bloomindales.

This all proved terribly amusing to me but not to the other two participants. The woman had stopped shy of removing her undergarments and her mistress was not pleased. "Did I tell you to stop?" Lady M looked at her and shook her head and this time the whip came very, very close. Seconds later she stood there as god intended and I thought back to the words Rebecca had spoken to me, "Once the mind is lost, all is lost." This woman's mind had been given a wrong turn and she was well on her way.

The dominatrix walked around her nude captive in a circle, inspecting her as one would a piece of art, an object of beauty. When she made the turn behind her Rebecca looked directly at the mirror towards where I sat and the smile she gave me was a combination of shared secrets and wicked anticipation. She walked over to the table, put down the whip and picked up a riding crop laying there. "Kneel" she said and as the other command had it took Lady M by surprise and when she didn't, the crop found its mark across her back.

A cry of more surprise than pain I believe followed and the woman kneeled without further instruction. Her breathing was becoming labored and I could see her visibly tremble as her tormentor spoke again. "My name is Rebecca, but you will address me as Mistress. You are here as my prisoner and your fate lies in my hands. I will take my pleasure from you and in return you will learn to embrace the pain I bring you as an intoxicating aphrodisiac. Do I make myself clear?"

Once again the response didn't come in time and this time the crop was slapped against the top's leather pants. It resulted it what sounded like, and to all appearances by the way the kneeling figure reacted, a gunshot. "Yes" came the whispered response.

"Yes, what?"

A momentary pause and then, "Yes, you make yourself clear?"

The edge of the crop found her chin and it was raised to see Rebecca towering over her. "Yes, Mistress is the proper response."

The crop was lowered and their eyes continue to focus on one another. Seconds passed, not a word was spoken but then the submissive lowered her eyes and her head bowed to her chest. "Very good my dear. You will not look me in the eye unless you are instructed to do so. Is that understood?"

"Yes mistress."

"Now, wait here, I will return shortly" and with that she walked back the way she had came into the darkness. I watched as Lady M stayed knelt in the spot, not moving an inch, as immobile as if she was bound hand and foot but instead in a form of mental bondage.

Seconds later the door to my room opened and their stood Rebecca. "Hello submissive, happy to see me or did you just enjoy the show?" I jumped up trying desperately to hide the effects of her performance on my libido. Once again there was that laugh and she walked in and sat down, looking through the mirror at the still kneeling figure.

"How, how long will she stay there?" I managed to ask.

"As long as I desire or in the case of what I instructed Beth to do about another fifteen minutes."

I looked puzzled as Rebecca smiled explaining, "Leaving her there alone, wondering when I'll return, finding herself powerless to move, all of this lays the groundwork for our next session. I do not rush things with someone new. This may or may not prove to be what this person needs, wants, desires. That is for her to decide, not me. Beth will come along and she'll find herself in a quandary that another has seen her in this position. For some it turns out to be exhilarating while for others not quite so."

Sure enough just a few minutes later Beth walked in and told the still motionless woman that she was to dress and leave. Her confusion was obvious as she tried to engage the red haired beauty in conversation but only found stony silence until she had put her clothing on and both of them left. "I'll wait a few days and then I'll contact her and ask if she is ready for more. By then she'll either want to have forgotten the entire experience or she'll be a nervous wreck because I have not called. Either way works." I asked which way did she think Lady M will choose and with a slight smile she replied, "She is mine."

"Now, let's talk about you." My look was a puzzled one so she went on explaining, "Voyeurism is one thing, participation another. Your story won't really be complete until you decide whether you're going to be on, if you'll pardon the expression, top or on bottom."

I shook my head from side to side, "No, I have a difficult enough time with straight sex, this is a little..."

She stood up, cracked the crop against her again, scaring me half to death as she moved close enough for me know just how harrowing a figure she could be. I refused to let her look me down, knowing full well that she was trying to do until finally she broke back into a slight smile, "Not bad submissive, not bad. We'll wait for now."

"Oh, I've arranged for you to meet her at The Club tonight at 10 o'clock. I've told her what you look like so she doesn't think you're that pervert we talked about. Now, I want you listen closely. Tell her nothing of our conversation here, she doesn't need to know my plan for her, do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress" I said with a shy smile and she nodded her approval.

"You've got the potential submissive. One day soon we'll have to play" and though I shook my head no, once again the blush that turn my face bright red elicited her delighted reply. "Go on, I don't want you to be late. I'll call you later and see how it went."

I entered the bar right on the top of the hour and it was easy to see her. She was the one with an ashtray overflowing with half-smoked cigarettes and it was obvious that she had already imbibed. I walked up wondering what the proper way of introducing myself would be? "Hi, I'm Jonathan, I just watched you strip for a lady with a whip." Catchy, huh? Instead I tried a slightly different approach. "Hello, I'm Jonathan. You're mistress, I mean Rebecca said you had agreed to talk to me?"

She nodded and motioned for me to sit down as she began to light another cigarette. Her hand shook and as the waiter stopped and asked for my order she motioned for another drink. "Uh, okay, as I said my name is Jonathan and I'm writing a story on the B&D scene here in Seattle. I've named you Lady M so that..."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't...."

"Why Lady M?"

"Well, because I didn't think you.."

"My name is Marisa, how did you know?"

TO BE CONTINUED...