Thursday, March 17, 2011

Fiction: 'Scenes'

Eight out of ten Mistresses say their slaves prefer it…

“We’ll have to try that again some time!” Mistress Valerie chuckled to her friend Sandra, watching through the window as Servitor’s taxi headed off towards the station.
“Even Servitor’s not dopey enough to fall for it twice.” her friend smiled.  “He got so stressed though!  I thought he was going to have a heart attack at one point – he went purple.  It was like he wanted it, but he didn’t want it.”
“Subs are like that” Mistress Valerie said absently.  “Especially humiliation sluts like Servitor.  Fantasizes about being made to eat cat food, but then he can’t really do it.”
“He did try to open his mouth for it” Sandra said.  Though I’m not sure you could have got it in, he was quivering so much.”
“I should have just gone for it and shoved the spoonful in ” Mistress Valerie mused.  “But I was savouring the moment and that gave him too much time to think and all of a sudden it was ‘oh Mistress, amber, no red Mistress!’  Bloody safewords, always spoiling the fun.”
“It was pretty horrible stuff.” her friend pointed out.  “Even later on, after you’d admitted it was ordinary mince with a Kittycat label put on it, it still took him a while to get it all down.”
“Yes – it was really nasty wasn’t it?” Mistress Valerie agreed, wrinkling Her pretty nose.  “I don’t see how they can get away with selling it.  All fat and gristle…and the smell!  It’s a good job you didn’t buy that ‘value range’ stuff they sell – that must be fucking disgusting.”
“We should try it on other slaves” Sandra giggled.  “It was brilliant.  And you made it look so convincing – how did you manage to get the label on so firmly and neatly?”
“I didn’t.  I thought you were going to swap the labels?” Mistress Valerie replied in puzzlement.
The two Ladies looked at one another for a moment in surprise, and then burst out laughing and went into the living room to watch TV.

Medical donation

“You look ever so good in that nurse’s uniform” Sandra said admiringly.
Mistress Valerie smiled modestly.  “Well, it’s practical as well as shapely” She giggled.  “After all, there’s bound to be rather a lot of blood and stuff when we get started, and that’s just what this is designed for.”
Her friend looked at her in surprise.  “We’re not really going to do it, are we?  I thought it was just a scare-Servitor fantasy.”
“Oh come on” Mistress Valerie grumbled.  “I’ve always wanted to try this.  I bought the scalpels and things specially.”
Sandra still looked dubious. 
“It’s only Servitor!” Mistress Valerie declared, in exasperation.  “What’s the problem?”
“Well it’s just…” Her friend replied, looking worried.  “Just a bit…non-consensual.”
“Ah – no!  No, it’s not!” Mistress Valerie replied excitedly.  “Look – I found that during his last session, while I was taking all the money out of his wallet.  See?”
With a sense of triumph She handed Sandra a small, slightly grubby rectangle of cardboard.
“An organ donation card.” Sandra said slowly, reading it.  “Well, perhaps…”
“No perhaps about it.  Servitor wants to donate his organs, and we want to remove some of them, so it’s all perfectly consensual!” Mistress Valerie declared decisively.
“Come on – help me strap him down before he regains consciousness.”

Tangible assets

“It’s the tax inspectors” Sandra explained, looking worried.
Mistress Valerie eyed the phone grimly.  “Can you handle it?” She whispered.
Sandra rolled her eyes and spoke into the receiver.  “I’m afraid the proprietor isn’t here right now.  I’m the company secretary for DommeValerie Ltd.  Can I help?”
Mistress Valerie fidgeted nervously, as her friend talked to the taxman on the phone, while calling up copies of their company accounts on the screen in front of her.
“Yes, that’s right, it’s the first time we’ve filed returns.  Oh thank, you.  Well you know, we just read all the leaflets and tried to do it as best we could.  Your web site’s quite helpful.  OK…OK…is it?  Yes, OK.  Well, let me check that and get back to you.”  She put the phone down.
“Are they saying that ‘female domination services’ isn’t a legitimate business activity?” Mistress Valerie exploded angrily.  “Because you can tell them, I checked the law and – “
But her friend cut her off, shushing her gently.
“Well did we leave something out?” Mistress Valerie asked grumpily.
“Not at all” Sandra replied.  “In fact, he was quite complimentary about how complete our filing was.  It’s just an item in this table that he doesn’t understand.”
She pointed up at her screen.  “Company assets: fixed and movable property owned wholly or partially by the designated enterprise” it read, at the top of a large table of items with valuations attached.
Mistress Valerie peered at the screen.  “Well I just tried to list everything we own that gets used in the business.  The more you put in, the more tax relief you can claim.  What’s he challenging?  Is it all the dungeon equipment?  It does say in the forms that you have to put down the function the assets play in the running of the business, and if those little creeps can’t handle an honest description of the uses to which I - ”
Once again her friend cut her off, shaking her head and pointing, with an elegant finger, to an item about halfway down the table.
‘Item: Servitor.’  Mistress Valerie read out.  ‘Wholly owned by DommeValerie Ltd.  Purpose: cleaning services for business premises.  Valuation: £50”
Mistress Valerie smiled.  “Well, maybe that is going a bit far.” She agreed.  “All right, I’m not going to get into an argument with them. We’ll take him out.”
Sandra nodded and reached for the phone.
Mistress Valerie headed back out onto the landing, where without breaking step she delivered a sudden kick to the figure in maid’s uniform who was polishing the banister, before heading downstairs.
“Not even tax-deductable, you useless little bastard!” she snapped, without looking back.


“Well he should choose his words with more care, then, shouldn’t he?” Mistress Valerie complained.  “What did he think I’d do, when he said he would crawl across broken glass for me?”
“I’ll get a mop” sighed Sandra.

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