Mistress G goes clubbing…

 That evening I felt like going clubbing. That little place, near Mayfair, is just right for an intimate evening: good music, soft lights, good company, fabulous drinks. I take my senior sub Amanda, Manda for her Miss, with me. But, wait a minute, have we met before? Maybe not, so, let me introduce myself…

My name is Mistress G. Well, this is how my girls and other doms call me. My real name you don’t need to know. Enough to say that, in my professional life, I am a medical doctor, and a teacher of forensic science. My passion is to teach girls, young women if you will, the practice and mysteries of obedience and devotion. Yes, I am a “real” Mistress.

We arrive fairly early, a few couples dancing, the band plays smooth jazz, Chic Corea and other classics. Michael, the owner, leads us to a nice corner table, not far from the stage and close enough to the dance floor. S(h)e’s a sweetie, and, I am told, a devoted sub on her own right off work. Manda looks at me obediently, and on my approval look, orders herself a vodka orange. I stick with champagne. We savour our drinks and the music for a little while, observing. Manda’s very elegant, her grey suit enhancing her lovely shape and long legs. She wears her new collar with pride, with her name engraved in gold on the black leather. Her white shirt glows under the club’s soft lights. We dance: Manda is a superb dancer, and she has style, both being led – evidently – or leading. Salsa, bebop, jitterbug, rock, she’s perfect, and, of course so am I… The club is filling up now. The band plays Miles, it’s a slow. Manda asks silently, and I let her place her arms around my shoulders. The closeness of her body, which I know so well, my property after all, inspires me.

Suddenly I see them, a couple who must have just arrived, and who went directly to the dance floor. They are almost enlaced: the tall girl who’s leading is striking, leather clad, but refined, not punk, her face framed by flamboyant red hair, strong hands holding her smaller friend tightly, impervious. Domineering she is, although probably not a dominant, but I am guessing. Our gazes cross, she smiles: a roman profile, beautiful, voluptuous lips, as she reaffirms her ownership of her pliable partner. But it is the sight of her friend that goes deep into my Mistress’s heart: the delicate pale face, the dark large eyes, the short black hair, the delicate silver necklace around the slender neck. I sense Manda’s observing her too. Time for introductions? I wait a little, the band moves on to Chuck Berry, in one smooth and firm move the tall girl comes closer, still holding her friend with one hand, and asks me: “Do you mind us joining you at your table?”

Manda looks at me, hopeful. I smile: “It would be our pleasure”. We sit down, Michael, who observes everything, comes to us immediately, beaming, and takes more orders. The tall woman introduces herself as Sarah, and her friend as Helena. I do the introductions on our side. Manda drinks Sarah’s words, who explains that they come rarely to this place, but may come back again, because of the music, and the company, she adds with a wolfish grin. I smile, ask Helena what she does. It is clear who leads in the couple, but she’s no sub. She answers me directly: she’s a freelance writer while her partner, Sarah, works for the health service. The calm dark eyes dip into mine: my mind is racing. Helena works from home. Sarah works long shifts. Sarah and me exchange a few jokes about the medical profession. She’s noticed Manda’s collar but does not ask any question. Helena wears a thin blue, long-sleeved, cotton dress which does not hide her features: she’s a delicate beauty, and I have to exercise control not to fix her steadily. Sarah offers Manda to dance, Manda looks at me and I acquiesce, quickly and discretely. The two of them disappear through the little crowd of dancers.

Helena’s looking at me, smiling: I stay silent, admiring her mouth, her lips, the fine beauty of her face. “Amanda’s your sub isn’t she?”, she asks playfully. And she continues without waiting for my answer: “I have always wondered what it feels like to be a sub to a Mistress like you”. Mind over body, I repeat the mantra, controlling my breathing. If this is not an invite what is? Yet I refrain from jumping: I wait, smiling my Mistress smile to this elven creature. “How many girls do you have?” asks Helena finally. I invite her to dance. She is not a good dancer: she’s an exceptional dancer, evidently professionally trained. We rock: her feet hardly touch the ground. A few couples stop to watch us. I am aware that Helena’s eyes haven’t left mine, as I lead her through 50’s classics, already knowing that I want her, not to play, to own. “Sarah’s not jealous, she knows am hers for ever” she says matter-of-factly as we start a slow to the tunes of Patricia Barber’s Verse. “Would you accept an invite to my place?” I say finally, forcing my way through caution, sensing the shape of her not merely ethereal body in my arms. She looks at me and says with a crystalline laugh: “I was wondering when you would ask…” She gets closer to me, her thin arms around my neck, so warm, I can feel her heartbeat. She’s a top prize for sure. Thoughts of enslaved Aphrodites pass through my mind… Mind over body, slowly zen breathing…

Back to the table Sarah and Manda are in a deep conversation about sport and female athletes. Sarah smiles a direct smile at me, and as Helena and Manda disappear to the ladies, says in the most charming voice: “Helena wants to know you, and possibly will submit to you. I have no objection, even to you collaring her, as long as you don’t seriously hurt her. If you did, I want you to know: I would kill you.” She’s smiling, serious, I sustain her gaze, smiles back: “I don’t know how you met, and it will not be my wish to interfere with you as a couple. However if Helena becomes my sub, she will remain my sub for a long time”. We look at each other, silent for long minutes. Then Sarah raises her glass to our friendship. We toast, she gives me her phone number and says Helena is at home most days, unless she’s training at her dance club, or attending some newspapers meeting. I give Sarah my card. Then we dance: for the first time, for a long time, I have the feeling of dancing with a rival.

Later that night, with Manda at my side sleeping the deep sleep of a satisfied sub, I think of Helena, and imagine her initiation.

To be followed…

4 thoughts on “Mistress G goes clubbing…

  1. For someone who has absolutely no experience with sub/dom stuff, I think this story is incredibly fascinating. It’s written to just such a light but strong impression of definite characters – I can’t wait for the follow up story(ies)!


  2. “My passion is to teach girls, young women if you will, the practice and mysteries of obedience and devotion. Yes, I am a “real” Mistress.”

    Ahhh, delicious, and though I am not a “real” Master, meaning of great experience and long standing, I do have one slave I nurture, teach, learn from, and use at will and have for over a year.

    I use the word “slave,” because that is what she is—property—and her pleasure, her raison d’etre is to please me unconditionally, whether or not I choose to please her in return. And though I use the word “slave” to convey property and ownership, I use it advisedly, for I find the term offensive. Likewise, I am not a fan of “sub,” which sounds mechanical. I prefer to call my property my “pet,” though only when she is a good girl. If she’s naughty, then slave works for me, and my slave will be punished accordingly.

    I’m a jealous man and not given to sharing my pet, though I recently introduced my pet to my best friend by inviting him to watch a ballgame while my pet served us—food and drink that is—wearing only her panties. When she wasn’t serving I had her stand where we could watch her, though when she seemed to tire I allowed her to sit. Before my friend left I had my pet remove the final covering of her modesty, so my friend could see what a delicious pet I owned. He didn’t want to go, but, sadly, I told him I couldn’t share what he so badly wanted, and he understood. During this discussion, as always, my pet kept her eyes lowered as I taught her, a lesson that took her a long time and more than her usual share of punishments to learn.

    I know another Master, though I’ve never met him in person, and he requires the opposite—that his pet always follow him with her eyes. To him it’s a mark of obedience and fealty. To me it smacks of impudence and disrespect.

    Here’s a link to a blog piece of my own you might enjoy.




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