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Subject: [New Stories] Protecting the Mistress (23/31) (FemDom, Romance)
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Tales of the Cabal: Protecting the Mistress
by Tigger
Copyright 1999, All Rights Reserved.

Archiving and reposting of this work is permitted only on
sites where *no* fee (including so-called adult checks) of any
type is charged and provided that my authorship, the story
itself and this statement of rights are included and are
unchanged.

This story is based on the Cabal as I developed it in one of
my first stories, "Domination Games."  This story is archived
at the Nifty Archive.

Url:  www.nifty.org/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Tigger/

The file is Domination-Games.html

***********

Protecting the Mistress
by Tigger

Part 23: Not a Perambulation in the Park

Mary silently cursed herself, the contract and the whole
damned Cabal as she watched Gerald sleeping fitfully on the
floor at the foot of her bed. 

Gerald had told her, hell, damn near ordered her to take him
to the Lodge and to go through with the Council-mandated
scene.  He promised that he would handle it.  She could only
hope that he was correct, because she knew he was incapable of
conceiving what was really in store for him this weekend.

Of course, he might surprise her and avoid the third part of
the planned three part scenario, but she didn't think so. 
None of the other three subs she'd played this evil little
game out with had been able to hold out - not even the one
who'd known what was coming because he had witnessed her
conducting the exercise with one of the other two.

She looked at the clock, and sighed.  Freda would be arriving
shortly to take him away. She'd been the one selected to
prepare him for the afternoon's demonstration.  Poor darling,
she thought sadly.  If only Gemma hadn't been so insistent
about this one.  If only she had picked someone less . . .
Mary wanted to say nasty, but that wasn't quite the correct
term, but it was close.  Couldn't Gemma have picked a Domme
with little more compassionate play-style than Freda?  

Some subs really loved Freda, but others avoided her like the
plague.  Mary knew of one particular, fairly experienced, deep
playing submissive who always checked ahead to find out if
Freda had a reservation before he'd even attend one of the
"all subs submit to all dominants" weekends.  Freda was
strict, perhaps even severe, and in her heart of hearts, Mary
knew that Gerald was not one of the subs who would blossom
under Freda's darkly demanding style of dominance.

Abandoning her expected role, Mary knelt beside her slave and
gently shook him awake.  She wished she had kept him in her
bed last night, but she'd been concerned they might oversleep
or that Freda would arrive early.  She didn't dare take the
chance of making things worse by flouting those codes of
conduct again. "Good morning, my love," she whispered before
kissing him softly on the mouth.  "It is time for you to get
up."

Gerald rose only to his knees, and then bowed low, touching
his forehead to the floor.  Mary unlocked the sleeping chain
from his collar and attached his leash before rising to her
feet.

"Gerry?  In a few minutes, Governess Freda will be here to
take you off to be prepared for this afternoon.  Taken alone,
these preparations will be very extensive and very demanding
for you.  I expect you to do your best."

"Yes, Mistress," he responded, feeling the knot of anxiety in
his gut double in size.

"I know you will, Gerry," she said warmly, "But then, you
always do.  However, that is not what I meant to say.  Yes, I
expect your best but, I also expect . . . no, make that I
*insist* that you safe word if you feel you need to do so,
especially if you would have done so without the specter of
this contract hanging over our heads.  I want you to promise,
no, even more than that, I want your word of honor that you
*will* stop the scene if appropriate, regardless of what you
feel the implications might be for me here at the Cabal."

Mary held his chin, her eyes boring into Gerald's, and she saw
him hesitate.  "If I do not have your word of honor, Gerry,
*right now*, I will call off the scene myself and we will be
on our way home within the hour," she said with awful
finality.

Gerald still held back, unwilling to make such a promise. 
"You can't be serious, Mistress" Gerry countered hopefully. It
was really a question.

Mary rose and picked up the phone from the bedside table.
"Gerry, if I do not hear the words "I give you my word, Mary,"
from you in the next fifteen seconds, this is all over and we
are out of here."  She began to punch the numbers on the
handset's keypad.

Gerald's resistance deflated.  "I give you my word, Mary, that
I will not consider your continued membership in the Cabal in
my safe word decisions."

An imperious knock on the door interrupted whatever response
Mary had intended.  "Come," she called out.

The door opened to admit a tall, powerfully built woman
wearing a long, Victorian style, bustled dress of unrelieved
black silk.  Gerald thought she looked like Mary Poppins on a
day when she wasn't "practically perfect in every way."  Her
dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun at the back of her
head, a perky black box hat perched jauntily on her head with
a netted veil shielding her eyes.  Her scarlet lips were
sternly set as she gave Gerald's nude form a slow, arrogantly
thorough perusal. A long, thin rattan cane beat a staccato
rhythm against very high-heeled button-down ankle boots. 

Obviously, this woman was "Governess" Freda.  Gerald disliked
her on first sight.

"This is the demonstration slave?" she demanded in a sharply
imperious voice.

"Yes." Mary answered equably.  "This is my slave, Gerry."

"Well, we have much to do before the open demonstration,
Mistress Mary.  With your permission?"  

Her words were more demand than request, but Mary simply
nodded, and offered her the leash.  "Go with the Governess,
Gerry.  Be a good boy and do exactly as she says.  I will see
you later on today."

Freda snatched the leash from Mary's hand and gave it a sharp,
painful tug, pulling Gerald off balance.  "Oh, he'll be a good
boy, darling." Freda smirked.  "Or else he will be a very
unhappy boy, and he will still get to the demonstration just
the same."  She turned to leave and then stopped. "Perhaps,
Mistress, it might save some time if you would give me your
slave's dormitory receipt?  If he safe words out of this, the
Council wants him off the grounds as quickly as possible, and
that will permit me to deliver him to you ready to depart."  

Mary did not like that idea one bit, but it was consistent
with what Gemma told her was the plan for this afternoon. Mary
left the sitting room and then returned moments later carrying
the yellow carbon copy of the receipt for Gerald's private
effects. Freda pocketed the offering and then turned back to
the door.  "Come with me, boy," she ordered with another sharp
tug.

Gerald started to rise and was given a stinging slash of the
cane across the fronts of his thighs.  "I did not tell you to
stand, little boy, only to follow," she said coldly.  "That
means stay on your bony little knees and crawl." She tossed a
malevolent grin back at Mary.  "Might as well start getting
him into his new role right from the start."

Shaken, Gerry began to crawl behind the rapidly striding
dominant.  Mary closed her eyes, trying to block out that
picture, but not before she saw the look of resignation on her
slave-lover's face.  It made her want to weep.

~---------------~

A working party comprised of every able bodied submissive at
the Lodge had arranged the main building's Great Hall into the
"Dinner Theater" layout.  Small, intimate table groupings were
arrayed in a semicircle about the round, elevated stage.  A
low rumble filled the room as the guests made small talk with
other members seated at the same table.  The "house" was
packed, and Mary was certain that anyone who was not required
by their duties to be elsewhere was out there waiting.  Hell,
she thought in exasperation, every active member of the whole
bloody Cabal must be here today.

Mary's heart was thudding heavily in her chest.  This
brainstorm of Gemma's just kept getting worse by the minute. 
Gerald hated public humiliation scenes.  Going along with
them, fighting through them, enduring them, had always been
one of his extra special gifts to her.  A gift made all the
more treasured because she knew just how difficult such play
was for him.  This type of scene gave him nothing in return
for what it pulled out of him.  His only reward was the purely
extrinsic pleasure of knowing how much his willing compliance
pleased her. 

And the script Gemma had specified for today was easily the
heaviest, pure-humiliation scene that Mary had in her arsenal. 
She'd never put anyone through this scene who wasn't *very*
deeply into humiliation play.  She'd certainly never
considered playing it out with and to Gerald.

Not only that, just about every member was going to watch him
suffering through it.  They would cheer her as she drove him
further and further, and they would jeer him.  Not that they'd
really mean their little taunts and jibes - they simply would
not believe anyone would willingly tolerate what she'd planned
for this afternoon's demonstration without being into that
type of play.  The generally good natured banter would just be
their way of joining in the scene, of trying to help tease the
submissive deeper into his humiliation-derived sub-space. In
their own way, they'd be trying to make the entire experience
better for her slave-lover. 

However, Gerald would never see their participation in that
light.  

Peeking out from behind the stage curtain one last time, Mary
could see the anticipation on their faces. DAMN!  "How had
they known?" She fumed to herself.  Even assuming that all of
them had been at the Lodge, why were they here?  There had
been almost the same number of members on site last time as
there were for this weekend, but nothing like this many people
had attended that first demonstration.

Freda, she realized, it had to be Freda.  Besides herself,
only Gemma and Freda had known what was planned, and she
trusted Gemma implicitly.  DAMN the woman!

The room went suddenly silent and Mary saw the reason.  A
tall, incredibly regal form was making her way to the center
of the impromptu stage.  Almost six and a half feet of
elegantly beautiful black woman, turned out in a finely
tailored, form-fitting black tuxedo complete to the ruffled
white shirt and the black velvet bow-tie, smiled out over the
assembled membership.  "Welcome to the second exhibition by
Mistress Mary Jones working her slave Gerald.  Today's
demonstration is one of erotic humiliation.  I give you
Mistress Mary."

A smattering of polite applause and a general air of excited
anticipation answered Gemma's introduction.  Mary gulped down
a last, deep cleansing breath, closed her eyes, and then took
that critical first step out onto the stage.  

Conscious of the importance of presentation, Mary moved about
the stage like a model showing off the latest fashion, giving
everyone in the audience a chance to appreciate her costume.

It was a sight well worth appreciating.  She wore a blue silk
dress, designed to duplicate the cut and fit of a 1950's house
dress.  Black patent leather pumps and black, seamed stockings
completed her outfit.  She'd even done up her hair and
brightly hued cosmetics in styles straight out of a 1950's
issue of Redbook Magazine.                   

She bore a striking resemblance to the television show's Donna
Reed, except for three little facts. The dress fit her like a
second skin, there was obviously nothing between her and the
dress, and her high heeled pumps were well over five inches
tall.  This Donna would *never* have passed the purity test of
the old television censorship board.

No sense delaying the inevitable, she told herself grimly, and
then gestured for the next grand entrance.  The main curtain
behind her parted to reveal Freda pushing what appeared to be
a huge baby perambulator before her.  Which is exactly what it
was.  Almost.

Freda positioned the pram center-stage, its long side toward
the audience, and then moved off to one side of the stage to
wait and to watch.

Mary made a theatrical approach to the baby carriage, feeling
almost like a magician's assistant about to open the "lady-
sawed-in-half" box.  As she passed the push handles, she
fingered a small, hidden switch.  Electronic locks on each
corner of the pram released, whereupon gravity took over.  All
four sides immediately fell away to reveal Gerald.

A murmur of surprise was followed by ripples of amused
laughter filled the room as the assembled membership took in
just what had been done to her submissive.  Mary did not need
to look.  She knew precisely what the others saw.  After all,
she'd designed both the baby carriage and the special bondage
restraints.  

Surprisingly, Gerald was not actually bound to the carriage. 
That was because such additional restraint was unnecessary -
he wasn't going anywhere very soon.  Strong, inch and a half
wide nylon web cuffs were cinched tightly to his upper arms,
wrists, waist, throat, thighs and ankles. Bungee cords
connected his upper arms to his waist and to the respective
wrist which were, in turn, similarly attached to the neck
collar.  His thigh cuffs were bound, again via bungee cords,
to the ankle bands.  His hands were fitted into flesh toned,
very stiff, fingerless gloves that eliminated most of his
manual dexterity.  

The bondage was deceptively strict.  Although the flexible
bungee cords permitted him some freedom of movement, it was
mostly illusory.  He could not control or move any of his
extremities to any real degree.  Even if he could have gotten
down from the carriage without hurting himself, there was no
way he could have stood on his two feet, much less walked. 
With a great deal of effort, he might have been able to crawl,
but not very far before his muscles wearied from the constant
fight against the strong bungee cords.

Gerald had been effectively reduced to the mobility and
physical self control of an infant.  A large diameter ring gag
to deprive him of understandable speech and a pink latex baby
bonnet completed his ensemble.

Mary finally turned to face her subject and began to examine
him dispassionately.  Freda had decided to dispense with the
diaper, but whatever body hair that had grown back since the
previous month's demonstration had again been removed.  The
reddish tinge to Gerald's skin was probably more the result of
a very strong depilatory than embarrassment, although that
emotion was there, too. 

The nipple of a ridiculously large baby bottle had been pushed
through the open center of Gerald's ring gag.  She could see
the fluid level in the two-quart bottle slowly but steadily
going down.  Gerald had no choice but to swallow the fluid as
it steadily trickled into his mouth.  Water with a little
vinegar to act as a mild diuretic, Mary knew, and this was not
the first nor likely even only the second such bottle he'd
been forced to drink in the past three hours.

Finally, she looked at his face, and had to steel herself not
to look away or to flinch.  He looked so diminished laying
there.  More than that, he had to be, at the very minimum,
extremely uncomfortable because Mary was sure he had not been
permitted to empty his bladder since she'd wakened him.  But
more than that, it was the hurt she saw in his eyes that made
her want to call this whole damned thing off.  Only the fact
that he had an electronic "red-light" panic button within easy
reach to signal he was safe wording gave her the strength to
continue.  Gerald could press that button whenever, or if ever
he reached his limits.  Depressing that switch would cause a
red light bulb on the pram to flash on, whereupon she or Freda
would end the scene and release him from his bonds.

A ripple of impatience moved through the watchers.  She had to
get on with it if she was going to do it at all.  She moved
behind the carriage and pulled the still leaking nipple from
his mouth.  Theatrically, she tickled him under his chin and
cooed at him in baby talk.  "So, is Mama's little snookums all
full?" she asked as her other hand slipped down to grip his
semi-hard manhood.  "My, but aren't you a big boy . . . well,
for a baby, anyway."  The snidely delivered comment drew an
appreciative laugh from her audience.

Mary moved off stage for a moment, returning pushing a white
enameled cart similar to what might be used in a hospital  . .
. or in a nursery. Earlier, she'd laid out the toys she would
need for this script onto the cart.  There were feathers for
tickling, a variety of corporal punishment tools, some
surgical and nipple clamps among other toys, and a large, old
fashioned, sand-filled hourglass.  Mary picked up a long-
plumed feather and moved back to her "infant."

Gerald nearly jumped off the carriage when Mary stroked the
feather down the underside of his cock and around his scrotum. 
"I bet that my little baby wants to know what Mommy has
planned for her little sweetie, doesn't he?" she singsonged at
him.  When he didn't react, she chucked him underneath his
chin.  "Aw c'mon, sweetie, aren't you just a little curious?" 
Mary realized that he was absolutely furious.  Well, she had
warned him and he did have the panic button she told herself.

"Well, let me tell you anyway, baby-boy.  We are going to do
some potty training so you can prove to all of us here
watching you that you are a big boy and not just a baby. 
Doesn't that sound like fun?" 

In a pig's eye, his eyes yelled at her.  

No one else "heard" that, so Mary doggedly continued with her
script.  "All you have to do is not do your pee-pee for the
next two hours," and here she held up the hourglass, "Just two
times through this without wetting yourself means you are a
big boy who gets to be a grownup for the rest of the weekend." 
She stroked the feather along his balls again and watched him
go rigid.  "But if you aren't a big boy, and go wee-wee before
the end of the two hours?  Well, then you must still be a
baby, so you'll spend the rest of the weekend in the nursery
with Nanny Freda."  Gerald closed his eyes.

Mary gripped his penis and stroked it slowly, making his eyes
snap back open and lock on her.  "Of course, if this little
thing actually orgasms before you wet yourself, then you must
be a big boy.  So, all you have to do to get free, lovey, is
either hold your water for two hours, or empty your balls
before you empty your bladder."  She bent over and pressed a
kiss to his forehead and whispered, "Good luck, sweetheart.  I
love you."

Standing erect once more, Mary reinserted the bottle's nipple
into the ring gag, flipped the hourglass before reaching onto
the cart for her first toy.  "Nanny Freda," she called.  "If
you would be so good as to assist me, please?"

End Part 23


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