As I attached the straps and fitted them snuggly to Stacy’s slim hips I said to her, “It’s important to remember that just because you wear the strapon, it’s not all about the physical sensation.”
I was on my knees, and as I knelt close to Stacy I could sense she was very turned on by this partof her training. She’s a very physical young thing. It’s hardly surprising she sometimes gets excited.
“It’s about making sure he feels diminished. He needs to feel a lesser person.”
Stacy grinned. She was tall, statuesque in fact, and in her heels she towered over most of my clients.
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We know what you want. You can’t help yourself.
Find a quiet spot and sit down. I’d like you to listen to this sound file, it’s a light hypnosis file that will relax you and help you enjoy this journey still more. Have you signed up for the free program yet? You can do so HERE.
Now listen to the file and relax.
Now, if you are a regular reader of mine, you’ll remember my guest Roland, who heads the local Chamber of Commerce. A very self absorbed individual. I remarked to Stacy not so long ago, that if one left him unfettered too long he would be too ‘up himself’ to be of much use to anyone or for anything.
Well, as perhaps you can imagine, I do not like to be kept waiting when a guest is visiting my studio. Appointments are very strictly timed. So, when he recently made the cardinal error of arriving late for his appointment, I was not best pleased. Even after changing, and entering the studio with just a small towel around his waist he was still out of breath.
I thought I’d share a little story I had from one of my prospective clients the other day. I interview all my private clients before deciding whether they are worthy of my attention. I have to satisfy myself that they are suitable for my services, that I will feel comfortable working with them, and that my service will indeed improve their life. With this in mind I invited young Mathew, a 23 year old Software developer, to my studio to for an initial appointment. I think you’ll find his interview of interest.
This morning I found myself deep in conversation with Stacy, as we prepared to receive our first guest of the day, none other than her college professor, Professor Longstaff. I explained to her that I am not feeling at my best today.
“Last night was quite extraordinary, I was awake half the night.” I explained. “In the early hours of the morning I was woken by a terrific banging!”
Stacy smiled and giggled. Honestly, some people seem genetically disposed to take the wrong end of the stick at every opportunity and poke themselves in the eye with it.
Stacy’s youthful looks and seemingly innocent demeanor often lead people to think she is almost innocent, or possibly recovering from a recent lobotomy.
“It was that new garage door,” I explained. “It was opening and closing automatically, the sensor having gone on the fritz yet again. I need to have it serviced. And the warranty has just expired.”
I was particularly annoyed as it would cost a pretty penny to service and I hadn’t budgeted anything for the maintenance of the system.
“Not to worry,” said Stacy, as the doorbell rang. “We should have a little party for some of the clients. We can charge them something, and cover it that way.”
Stacy is not just a pretty face. Her idea was quite inspired and I gave it some thought. As she buckled the hapless Professor Longstaff to the wall and fitted a hood over his head, I resolved to invite several of my favorite clients and charge them a nominal fee to attend.
As Stacy and I readied ourselves, in the room adjacent to the studio, I mentioned it to my young assistant.
“How nominal a fee?” Stacy asked, drawing out some rubber gloves from a supply cabinet.
“A hundred and fifty dollars seems reasonable. That way we’ll only need a few,” I replied.
“It’s practically a gift!” she replied, pulling on her long black boots.
As we returned to the studio, I said to Stacy, “I think a nice touch might be to send invitations written in blood.”
“That would be dramatic!” agreed Stacy. “Tasteful.”
I noticed Professor Longstaff, his hooded head looking this way and that in curiosity. He had heard and was obviously intrigued.
“Yes, an invitation written in blood and hand delivered by a school child. How wonderfully perverse.” I mused. “Perhaps we can get some of the boyscouts to deliver the invitations. They’re always asking to do a few errands to raise money.”
I drew a few sheets of the finest vellum notepaper from my writing desk in the corner of the studio and located my favorite fountain pen. I could not help noticing Stacy standing by the cabinet in which we keep various tools of persuation, picking up a pair of sharp scissors. She opened and closed them, and they gave a satisfying snick, snicksound. Stacy picked up a small glass bowl usually used for the collection of more fertile bodily emmissions.
She walked over to Professor Longstaff, working the scissors as he shifted nervously, unable to see what she was doing, but clearly very agitated by the unfolding events.
“Writing the invitations in blood is truly inspired,” said Stacy. “Very artistic. Would you like me to cut
something off?” she said, prodding the professor.
Professor Longstaff stiffened in fear. “No, No,” he gasped. “I’ll give you a better mark. Anything you want… Please, Mistress!”
“I thought, just a little prick would do,” I replied absently to Stacy, whilst preoccupied, looking through my desk for some matching envelopes. I knew I had some in there somewhere.
I looked up slowly, a moment later. To my surprise Professor Longstaff was hanging in his bonds unconscious, having feinted, and Stacy was removing his underwear, and muttering, “That really does seem a little extreme, mistress….”
Sometimes Stacy really is the limit.
I hope you enjoy the weekend and that you are practicing the standards of subservience that I demand. After all, we wouldn’t like anything untoward to happen to you. And remember, don’t run with scissors.
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