The Mistress Files: The Case of the Brokenhearted Bartender

“God damn, that man is such a mother hen sometimes.” The Mistress opened the door to make sure he’d really gone. She wouldn’t put it past him to wait out in the hallway the entire time.

“He is, and I have no idea why. He’s so weird.”

“He’s French.” The Mistress waved her hand dismissively.

“It’s not that. He treats me like a princess. Do I look like a princess to you?” Chris motioned at herself to indicate her short spiky hair, her boyish clothes and boots.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the New Sam. You might as well be royalty to him.”

“That might explain things if I knew what the hell that meant.” Chris looked around and nodded her approval. The Mistress did have a rather swank setup in the front room of her suite. But what they needed for their session was in the second room, the playroom.

“You don’t know about Sam?” The Mistress led Chris to the examination bed she had for her medical fetishists. She patted the seat to indicate Chris should sit. Across from her on a wheeled stool The Mistress sat and looked up at her.

“No. Everyone says, ‘Oh, you must be the New Sam’ when they meet me but no one’s told me who she or he or it is.”

“Take your shoes, pants and underwear off, get under the sheet and then I’ll tell you.”

Chris seemed just nervous enough that The Mistress decided she might need to try a little carrot-stick action to get her client to relax and undress. Stick—taking her clothes off in front of a stranger. Carrot—the answer to her long-held question.

“Um… okay. You gonna watch?” Chris asked, clearly embarrassed.

“I am. I’m a Dominatrix, not a doctor. Unless you absolutely need me to leave the room, I’m staying in here. I’m going to see what’s under the clothes anyway so I don’t know how not letting me watch you undress is going to save you some modesty points. And the sooner you get used to being naked around me, the better. You aren’t submitting to me, however, so you can ask me to leave if you need me to.”

Chris exhaled heavily and dangled her feet over the edge of the bed like a nervous child.

“Fine. Whatever. You’re right. You’re gonna see everything anyway,” she said, raising her legs to start unlacing her boots.

“Good girl.”

“Good girl?”

“Sorry. Habit. I’ll turn the heat up in here so you can relax more.”

The Mistress clicked the temperature up a few notches while Chris shimmied out of her jeans and underwear. For a young woman trying very hard to go the butch route, she had on remarkably pretty panties, white and lace-trimmed. Boy-short style, but still quite girly. And although she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds, she had some good curves on her. Nice hips, shapely legs. Her pubic hair had been close-trimmed but not shaved or waxed off. Nice to see a woman who wasn’t afraid of looking like an actual adult under her clothes.

“Okay, just lay back. We’ll take our time here,” The Mistress said as she sanitized her hands thoroughly. She raised the stirrups on the examining table and helped Chris get her feet into them. “I won’t touch you without warning you first. Cool?”

“Cool.” Chris took a slow breath and stared up at the ceiling.

“Cool. I’ll get the toys. Don’t be freaked out.” The Mistress pulled open a drawer and one by one removed six dildos of varying sizes and lined them up on the metal tray. Chris watched her the entire time, her eyes growing wider as dildos of impressive size appeared.

“Holy shit,” Chris breathed as she took in the array. “That big?”

“Never seen one before? I mean, an actual penis on a grown man?”

“Not in person. Only pictures. I’m a gold star lesbian,” she said with pride.