The Domme Society {Torridsoul x Alan23}

[torridsoul]

​

If it were possible to add hours to the day to prolong nightfall Ivy McKnight would have added at the very least ten hours to the day. That way she could have continued to sit behind the desk in her home office playing with color swatches, fabric samples and sketching room designs. Being interior decorator to New York’s elite was probably not what Ivy’s famous movie star mother Janelle McKnight had had in mind for her daughter when she’d been born. She’d probably wanted Ivy to be a movie star too, or a singer maybe given that Ivy’s father a famous rock star could have possibly passed those chops on down to her. However Ivy’s talents lay elsewhere, in a more creative and artistic outlet and her talents definitely did not lie where her mothers had in other aspects.

Thanks to her mother having been one of the most prominent members of The Domme Society, an extremely private club for New York’s most powerful women (single or not). The women in this club were the most respected (or feared) women in every high powered position. It had Lawyers, Accountants, Doctor’s, CEO’s, CFO’s, Presidents, Actresses, Models, and Singers. Oh and one interior designer, even though Ivy was the best in the business making more than any other interior designer in the city she was still very far from powerful. She had inherited her mother’s membership when she’d decided to step down. Her mother’s words to her when she’d handed over her membership were: “Make me proud Ivy.”

Ivy threw down a sample tile of granite; the clattering against her desk was a satisfying sound. “Make me proud” she mimicked her mother’s voice crabbily. How could she make her mother proud when she didn’t have a dominant bone in her body? She pushed away from her desk and slowly made her way through her penthouse condo, catching glimpses of the skyline as she made her way to her bedroom. It was time to don what she called her “Domme Wear” and play pretend.

She squeezed first into the black corset with lace overlay; it should have made any woman feel sexy if not powerful. It pushed up her deliciously firm 36 C breasts and made her body look amazing, but for Ivy all it did was press on her bladder and bother her all night. Next came black leather mini skirt that hugged her curvy hips, she didn’t have any complaints about this, except maybe that it was leather and sticks to her skin… but that was just nitpicking. The only parts of her outfit that made her feel even remotely sexy were the black silk thong panties she wore beneath the skirt, and then four inch platform stiletto heels that made her stand at five feet five inches tall and made her legs look ridiculously long and stunning.

Ivy applied her subtle makeup and then headed out, for nights like this she hired a driver to take her to the elegantly gothic building that held The Domme Society. Tonight wasn’t just any night though, tonight was auction night. The night where the submissives would pick their Dommes and this month Ivy had actually pursued a sub. Even though she probably hadn’t been as aggressive as some of the others, something had drawn her to Damon the moment he’d set foot in the building.

Tonight as she walked through the building to the Auction room Ivy hoped that the miniature renaissance painting series she’d given him would sway him in her direction. She was unsure why but she was almost sure that he was the type of man who would appreciate the art. Ivy took her seat, she desperately needed for at least one submissive to choose her, not that she’d really know what to do with one once she got them. She hoped that Damon would be the one to choose her, he alone could skyrocket her standing within the club and then maybe finally, people would stop noticing how many times she made a mad dash towards the restroom, or how often a flush found her cheeks. The maybe she’d finally have a little respect.

The lights in the room dimmed, and the lights above the stage flickered on as an elderly gentleman walked to the side of the stage and took his place at the podium. Ivy was unsure how long ago the club had found Miles Fortright, but he’d handled the clubs “ledgers” for what seemed like forever. His voice boomed through the speakers “Ladies, it is time to begin tonight’s event.”

A man walked out onto the stage, wearing nothing but cuffs at his wrists and ankles and a pair of red silk boxers, it wasn’t anyone that Ivy was interested in and she doubted he’d chose her anyway. So she did what she always did, zoned out and wished she was anywhere but here.

 

[Alan23]

"Hmm, not really my type," whispered Madlyn Chaucer, high-flying industrial lawyer and mega-rich socialite, dabbing at her jet-black make-up. "Bit scrawny, in fact. Did you run for him, Leesh?"

"Me? Never?" replied Alicia Wagner, billionaire property developer, patting at her long blond hair. She studied the catalog, where brief biographical sketches and pen-pics of the various submissives on offer were listed. "I've held some very interesting conversations with numbers three, six and eight. Heavens'. I've got six subbies already - one has to draw the line somewhere, yes?"

"Yeah, I went for three and six, too," Madlyn confirmed. "And nine, too - the black girl. I know femme on femme isn't your thing, though."

"It's certainly mine, though," put in Kerrilyn "Snake" Chambers, lead singer of the Goth Band "Still Undead." - "I've been courting number eleven ever since she was listed. Hell, I've got eight girls already, but another one never hurts, right?"

"Someone must have showed interest in him, though," Alicia said under her breath. "Or he'd have been eliminated and never made it to the stage. Ivy, maybe?"

The three women giggled behind their elegantly manicured hands. Ivy McKnight's desperation to - not so much add to her slave-harem, for it contained not a single follower - as to begin it, was a source of never-ending amusement to them.

"How long has she been here, now?" asked Kerrilyn. "Shit, most Dommes usually have a few followers after six months or so. Frankly, I don't know why the let the pathetic little cow in. She's more suited as a slave, in my opinion - frightened of her own shadow, that one."

"Or why she persists," continued Madlyn. "If I was as timid and weak as her, I'd never show my face here. Oops, that's right - her mother was one of the high-ranking members. Janelle - now there was a Domme, all right."

The three stopped talking as, after the brief description of his abilities and assets, the man in the red shorts made his choice. "I beg to submit to-" he said, his voice cracking slightly, but at least he remembered the correct words of the ritual "Domme Natalya Du Mornay."

There was polite applause as the Domme in question, one of the city's top (and richest) gynecologists, sashayed up to the stage and clamped the collar and wrist-chains onto her new submissive, and led him away into the crowd.

"Not a bad match, that," admitted Alicia. "Nat's fairly new, but promising. Done some good scenes. She'll knock the guy into shape, all right. She hasn't rushed him off though,"

"She's bidding on number six, too, I heard," Madlyn told her. "He's quite in demand, that one. She bought him a Rolex Oyster, too. Mind you, I confidently expect the solid silver pendant I gave him to bring him over."

"Seems like everyone is," laughed Kerrilyn. " 'cept us girls who only like girls, of course. And pisspants Ivy, probably."

"Maybe perhaps even her," said Madlyn. "After all, there's nothing to stop her bidding. And if a Domme doesn't put at least three bids in per year, they face public expulsion from the Society, remember. But how humiliating for her - no slave ever chooses her." She looked at the bidding list at the back of the glossy catalog. "Yep - she's gone for six, all right. Let's all watch the expression on her face, when she sees she's been passed over yet again."

"If she's there when he takes the stage," laughed Alicia. "By my timing, it's been at least twenty minutes since she's had a piss. She'll be rushing off again, before the next slave's up. Unless she wants to wet herself again, like she did at Dyanna's party."

"Or at the dinner, at New Year," Madlyn gave a most un-domme like giggle, and hastily changed it to a deep chuckle. References to Ivy's unreliable bladder never failed to raise a laugh among the three, and the deep crimson blush that never failed to light up Ivy's face when they mentioned it in her hearing was a source of constant delight. And when Ivy became nervous - and, undoubtedly, she'd be nervous now - the situation became even worse for her.

The three watched, as four more slaves were led up, made their choice, and were claimed. Share magnate Lorelei Wheeler claimed number three, a broad, muscular Japanese stud, much to the disappointment of Madlyn and Alicia. And then, Miles Fortright took his place again, his deep booming voice cutting through all whispers and murmurings.

"And now, it's time for the sixth slave of the evening to make his choice. Ladies, can you not smell the gum-leaves in the air? Yes, we present an Aussie, ladies, though one born in Britain - so you can expect culture and refinement as well as machismo form this one. Hey, there's a few scars here and there, but..." he winked. "Some of you like 'em that way, right? Saves you the trouble of marking him yourself. Anyway, without further ado - let Damon Bicher make his way to the stage."

Damon emerged from behind the curtained-off area, flexing his muscles slightly for show. He was not as broad, nor as muscled as the Japanese, but his tall, lithe body was ripped, hinting at a much more athletic strength. There were involuntary gasps from some of the bidders, who had only ever seen him clothed - not as now, in the traditional cuffs and red shorts of the unclaimed slave. He stood proudly, perhaps arrogantly, though that could soon be whipped out of him if whatever Domme he chose wanted to go that way.

"Damon Bicher, you know why you're here," intoned Miles Fortright. "You must, tonight, choose a mistress. Once made, your submission is complete. You can't change your mind, nor back out - the contract you signed when you joined ensures that. If you leave, you must return all the presents, of any kind, that you've received here. And once you have been claimed, you must obey your mistress in every respect... every respect! So, choose carefully... make your choice, Damon Bicher, or be whipped from these premises never to return."

Damon looked around the assembled Dommes, allowing his eyes to linger on the faces and bodies of those who had courted him. Zita Vaccaro, who'd promised him membership of the city's most exclusive dining club. Chelsea Burrington, who promised to set him up with his own business after a year of ownership. Alicia. Madlyn. Portia Torrington, the world-famous ballet dancer, who had given him the expensive suit. Many more, all exquisitely beautiful, powerful and well conencted, and had given him expensive presents and promised much, much more if he wuold but submit to them for a period of two years. He drew breath, and spoke in his deep, cultured voice.

"I beg to submit to... " he paused dramatically. "Domme Ivy McKnight!"

Murmurs of shock ran around the hallway!

 

[torridsoul]

It seemed as though no matter where she sat Ivy always ended up with those three Vipers behind her, next to, or in front of her. One would think with the size of their harems that they'd have other things to talk about, better things to talk about than Ivy's damned weak bladder.

Madlyn Chaucer was always the leader the of the "Let's All Humiliate Ivy" club, though Ivy really had no idea why. For the longest time Ivy had spent so much brain power on trying to figure out what she'd done to be treated the way she was by those women. The only thing she could figure is that she was forced into a role where she didn't really fit and that was enough for them. It was all very childish, they'd created a high school clique and had chosen Ivy as their target. Most of the other Domme's knew that Ivy didn't belong and chose to ignore her. Truth be told it was easier for her to deal with the ones who chose to ignore her.

Tonight she'd been sure to use the restroom before leaving home and then she'd went to the restroom right before the event started, and she wasn't drinking anything like most of the other Domme's were. Ivy wanted to be sure that she could sit through to at least the 6th submissive, the only one she'd bid on this month.

Ivy tried to ignore every time they'd referred to her as pisspants, but it was near impossible and just as expected the crimson flush floated across her cheeks, to the tips of her ears. She let her eyes drift shut for a moment, and took a deep breath; she may have a weak bladder but one thing she knew was that she was better looking than the three women put together. Madlyn, while pretty had a few extra pounds that made her... jiggly. Alicia was average, there was nothing wrong with her... she was just normal. And Kerrilyn she supposed was an uncommon beauty, if you liked the goth look; In Ivy's opinion she'd be gorgeous if she just wore a little less makeup. Those thoughts sent a smile over Ivy's lips and the flush faded from her cheeks.

Submissives, 2,3,4, and 5 had gone and it was a good thing they'd finally gotten to 6 because Ivy thought she maybe had 5 to 10 minutes before she'd have to run to the washroom again. The feeling was less urgent since she hadn't been drinking, but it was still there. So when Damon took the stage she let out a sigh of relief, she could be passed over again, she could go to the washroom and then she could just go home and get out of this torture device called a corset.

Ivy watched as Damon took the stage, then she turned her attention to see who all had bid on him. The list of Domme's that had bid on him was startling, he was popular but she hadn't realized how popular. She snapped the catalog closed with a snap and a sigh. It was then that Damon's voice filled the room.

"I beg to submit to... Domme Ivy McKnight"

No one was more shocked at this than Ivy was at this, except maybe Madlyn who nearly shouted;

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

Ivy was sure she'd even heard the woman stomp her heeled foot on the floor and she couldn't help herself, she looked down the aisle to the woman.

"Whats the matter Madlyn, did you want that one?" she said this with as much bitch as she could manage and then grabbed her bag and went to the stage.

From the bag she withdrew two chains, one for his collar which she clipped into place with her shaking hand. The other for his wrist cuffs, she clipped them together and then led him off of the stage. Since he was the only submissive she'd bid on she led him from the room into the common gathering room.

Now that she had a submissive what the fuck was she going to do with him? She'd worry about that after she went to the restroom, she guided him to the restroom and caught his chain on a hook outside the lady's room and said.

"I'll only be a moment."

How embarrassing she thought, her first submissive and the first thing she had to do was relieve her bladder.

 

[Alan23]

"Ah, Damon, isn't it?" boomed Madlyn Chaucer's voice, as she rounded the corner to the door outside the bathroom. The fake smile on her face threatened to crack her make-up. She gave a quick, annoyed tug to the leather vest that persisted in riding up over her slightly protuberant stomach, and folded her arms in a way that, she knew, pushed her breasts upwards. "May I be the first to offer my congratulations? It's a wonderful day in a slave's life, being collared by his first Mistress. I'm sure you'll be very happy with Ivy. And may I also congratulate you on making such a courageous decision."

"Courageous, Ma'am?" asked Damon, giving the slight bow that the club rules required each submissive to give to a dominant on first utterance.

"Well, yes... of course, it was your choice entirely, and I wouldn't want to sow any seeds of disquiet in your mind. I mean, I'm sure you had your reasons. But... " she gave a small shake of her head. "Ivy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," replied Damon, his face expressionless. "Ms McKnight."

"May I ask why?" expostulated Madlyn, all pretense at urbanity gone. "I mean - Ivy???"

"Ma'am, I'm not sure Mistress would wish me to discuss my reasons in her absence," Damon replied, blandly. "I do apologize, but I'm sure Mistress will happily discuss it with you, if your interest lies in that direction."

"Yes, but... Ivy?" persisted Madlyn. "I mean... " she gave a sigh that made her large breasts - and stomach - jiggle, and hastily tugged down her vest again. "Ah, I get it. Miles played a prank on you, right? He does that sometime. He takes a new slave aside, and whispers hints that a certain Domme would be perfect for him... when in fact, he's making mischief. Deliberately setting the poor slave up with a totally unsuitable mistress. He thinks such things are funny. He used to be a slave here himself, you know."

"Thank you, Ma'am. That's most interesting. But, no, Mister Fortright did not discuss this with me in any way. I considered the Dommes who wished to collar me, and I decided I would like it to be Ms McKnight."

"Ivy? Why? I mean... " Madlyn shook her head. She'd expected this to be easy. Poaching another Domme's slave was highly illegal within the rules of the club, of course, but - well, as if a weakling like Ivy could do anything about it! "Where is she, by the way?"

Damon jerked his head, indicating the door of the lady's room. "Mistress needed to, erm, answer a call of nature, Ma'am."

"Yes, she does a lot of that!" said Madlyn, bitchily. " 'Pisspants Ivy', we call her. Or 'Queen Crosslegs.' Some kind of bladder infection, I understand. Trust me, if you stay with her, you'll be doing a lot of waiting outside bathroom doors. That's when she makes it, of course. She doesn't always." She straightened her vest again, and leaned forward, conspiratorially. "The thing is, Damon... well, I shouldn't say this, but you seem a nice, well-behaved slave, and I'm prepared to give you a break. I mean - the other slaves will laugh at you, you know. Ostracize you. Ivy's something of a laughing stock in this club and - well, much of it will reflect on you. But it isn't too late to back out. Never mind what Miles said. A quick word in the right ear, and I could have your collaring annulled. You see, Damon I... well, not that I'm especially looking for any more slaves, but... well, rather than have you get into trouble, I'm prepared to say that it was a mutual decision between Ivy and I that you be transferred to me."

"But Ma'am," replied Damon, a very slight edge in his voice. "May I ask why Ms McKnight would have put her name up, if she didn't want me?"

"Are you being deliberately stupid, boy?" Madlyn's urbane veneer was shattered. "Whether she wanted you or not doesn't matter. If I tell her to give you up, she'll give you up. Ivy's scared of me, don't you understand? You've got a coward for a Domme!" She fought her smile back into place. "Come to me, sweet Damon. We'll have so much fun." she winked. "Promise!"

"Thank you, Ma'am, that's a most generous offer," replied Damon, and Madlyn's smile widened. "But I really think I should stay with Mistress, as club rules dictate."

"You'll regret this!" snapped Madlyn. "You stupid boy, have you no- ?"

At that moment, the door to the lady's room began to open.

 

[torridsoul]

After using the facilities and washing her hands Ivy made her way to the restroom door, hearing Madlyn's voice and knowing there was only one person she could be talking to she decided to hang out a second and listen to what the wicked witch had to say about her. Ivy couldn't figure out why she did this to herself, she already knew what Madlyn was going to say. She could have cut it all short and never let Damon hear any of it.

Thankfully Damon had responded to Madlyn respectfully the last thing she wanted was her new submissive in trouble for disrespecting a Domme and thank god he hadn't told her why he'd chosen Ivy. That was a question she planned to ask him herself. Maybe not tonight, but somewhere down the line she'd ask him. It was a question she was going to need answered. But when Madlyn had called Ivy a coward she'd had enough, a coward wouldn't come here week after week and take the humiliation that her and a tag team of mean girls felt they should dish out to her. She shoved open the bathroom door, hoping it would smack the other woman... maybe break a nose, or give her a black eye... how satisfying would that be.

Ivy stepped out of the washroom and looked Madlyn dead in the eye, probably for the first time since she'd joined the Society.

"I think you've talked to my submissive for long enough Madlyn... and if I were you I would be very careful where you decide to poach."

Some of the women in the Society may not like Ivy, but there was one woman who did. A woman who'd been great friends with her mother, a woman who her mother had loved enough to make her Ivy's godmother. And while Domme Georgina Hollister no longer bid on any submissives or kept any, she was the Head Mistress and she oversaw and enforced the rules of The Domme Society. Ivy would never go to Georgina for the way Madlyn and her girls humiliated her, that was something she knew that she would have to deal with on her own. But it was nice to know she had that one connection that could keep another Domme from poaching on her, now that she finally had a submissive. Not just any submissive either, but a highly sought after submissive.

She unhooked Damon's chain from the post, her hand was shaking as she turned away from Madlyn. It was the first time she'd ever stood up to Madlyn, and while it felt good the anger that had been driving her faded and she needed to get away from the pesky woman.

"Come Damon" Ivy said softly as she gave his chain a slight tug and then led him away from the crowds of people, she could have taken a seat with him where they could watch one of the scene's but she wanted to talk to him and work out some details.

Ivy selected a private nook with a high backed plush chair with a large silky pillow next to it for a submissive to kneel or lay. She hooked the chain onto the arm of the chair and then settled into the plush chair. She leaned back against the chair and slid her right leg over her left. As she crossed her legs she couldn't help but hear Madlyn's words in her head " 'Pisspants Ivy', we call her. Or 'Queen Crosslegs.' " It seriously pissed her off that in a time where she should be proud that she'd gained her first sub that she was hearing that bitches voice in her head. She held her sigh to herself and turned all her attention to Damon.

"So, Damon. I'm giving you permission to speak freely for now. There are some things we need to work out. First and foremost, your living arrangements from here on out. You have two options, there are living quarters in my personal condo"

The quarters her mother had insisted on installing, it had a lush and comfortable queen size bed a bathroom with a luxurious shower and a connecting playroom that Ivy had only wandered into from time to time.

"Your second option of course are your own living arrangements, an apartment perhaps?"

One of the condo's she'd purchased and rented out was empty at the moment she could easily set him up in it, her career was in high swing and she didn't really need the income from the rent.

"I'm leaving this choice in your hands, because even though you are my submissive now I wish you to be as comfortable with our arrangement as possible."

Ivy leaned over as she spoke, her long blond curls brushing over Damon's shoulder as she used the key to remove the chains from his wrists. She laid the chain over her bare thighs and looked to him.

"Which would you prefer?"

 

[Alan23]

Damon looked up into Ivy's eyes. He hadn't missed the political significance of the scene he'd just witnessed. He knew Ivy was terrified of Madlyn, and how much of an effort it had been for her to stand up to the stronger woman - even if she was still shaking, these five minutes later. He'd also registered the way Ivy had seemed relieved to see Georgina Hollister in the vicinity. Even in the short time he'd been ojn the periphery of the society, he'd worked out the pecking order. And he knew that even Madlyn and her cronies would hesitate to offend the grand dame of the society! He wondered if Ivy would have been able to stand up to Madlyn without Georgina's implied support, and decided not.

"Well, Mistress," he said at last. "I appreciate you giving me this choice, and either alternative would do. But you did ask me to choose. Fact is - in the army, I spent a lot of time alone. And what I dreamed about was - well, to live with someone. Like, not necessarily a girlfriend or a wife. Just - just someone. Another guy, sharing an apartment, maybe, just someone to talk to, you know? But even when I got out of the forces, things didn't work out that way. Shared an apartment with a guy, turned out he was a drug dealer, and the cops raided every other night. Then I lived alone in a flophouse for a while, just needed to get myself together. I..." he looked down at the ground. "I have nightmares sometimes, and they might disturb some people. So I had to stay alone for a while."

He looked even harder into her eyes. "So it's only fair to tell you, Mistress, I do sometimes cry out in my sleep. But if you can put up with that - I'd prefer to move into your condo. And amyway, the other submissive say that it's easier to build up a good rapport with your mistress and learn from her, if you live together."

Not to mention that if that Chaucer bitch or any of her cronies come around to try to intimidate you - I'll be there. he thought privately.

"Urm, Mistress, I guess now might be the time," he continued. "To tell me exactly what you expect of me... any special requirements." This was the one part of his new duties about which he felt some delicacy. Madlyn's information - that his new mistress sometimes had difficulties with her bladder control - had not been new to him. Many of the other slaves had mentioned it. The problem was, how could one put it delicately? Maybe he should just deliberately arrange things so that she was never far from a bathroom, without embarrassing her by mentioning it? Or would she know he was avoiding the subject, and be even more humiliated. He guessed this question was the most diplomatic way he could have put it. "I mean... I'm told every Mistress does things a different way. And I want to please you, you see..."

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy rubbed her hands softly against the plush material covering the arms of the chair she was seated in. If she had to look at her hands shake a moment longer she’d have gone insane. Walking out of the restroom and taking on Madlyn like that had taken everything inside of her and all of the bravado had been false. But she couldn’t think about that right now, she had to focus on Damon and Damon alone and she had to figure out how she was going to be a proper Mistress to him, he deserved as much since he’d chosen her. Given what he must have heard about her throughout the club it still shocked her to no end that he had chosen her.

When he looked up into her eyes Ivy smiled down at him, and slid one hand from the arm of the chair down to his head, stroking gently through his hair. It was nice she thought to have someone who wanted her… for any reason. She listened carefully as he described wanting to live with someone since he’d spent so much time alone in the army, and Ivy could understand that if her mother hadn’t turned her second bedroom into submissive quarters she probably would have taken on a roommate or something just to have someone to share her space with.

Ivy felt something inside her chest flip when he said that he sometimes cried out in his sleep, and she imagined any man that had been to war and seen the death and destruction might cry out in their sleep and it made her want him in her homes, so that she might comfort him in those times.
“I can more than handle that Damon, so it’s settled you will be living with me.”

Now if only she could hustle him from The Society and take him home, a show was just starting across the room. One of the more senior members was decking a tiny sprite of a woman out in ropes, but this would give them a bit more privacy since people would be gravitating towards the shows. She snapped back to attention when he asked if he had any special requirements.

“Well Damon,” she said softly. “Aside from what you’ve willingly submitted to by belonging to me sexual submission, living in my home, following my orders. I expect your silence on certain matters” a soft sigh slid from her lips, her fingers dropped from his head to his shoulder.

“I’m sure Madlyn told you of my problem, and I know she told you what most of the people here call me or think of me. But you belong to me now and no matter what you see me say, or do in the time we’re together I expect you to keep it to yourself. No talking to the other slaves about it, because well if there was anything this club runs on gossip is at the top of the list.” The words she left unspoken was that she wished him to remain silent on just how dominant she wasn’t because he was bound to see it and very soon. Ivy didn’t expect him to talk but she couldn’t take the chance of NOT putting that rule into effect.

 

[Alan23]

"Madam," replied Damon, "I think I should tell you that new slaves are left in no doubt as to the rules of the club. Talking negatively about any mistress - particularly one's own - is at the top of the list of dont's. In any case, why would a submissive do that? He or she has chosen their mistress, if they didn't like her, they wouldn't choose her, would they?" He sidled closer to her, gently rubbing her long leg with the back of his hand. "I chose the mistress I wanted, and I like everything about her." He gave a small grin. "I might talk about how pretty my Mistress is, of course, and make all the other slaves jealous. Er - I take it you don't want me to do that if any of Domme Chaucer's slaves are in hearing, though. No point giving her and her circle any more excuses to bully you. Frankly Ma'am - and I hope it's all right to say this, but you did order me to speak freely - I don't think it's right for a Domme to belittle and embarrass another Domme in front of her slave. I'll say no more."

He deliberately flexed his muscles - in case she were thinking of punishing him, he wanted to give her something else to think about.

"Now, Ma'am," he continued, "what are your commands for right now? Did you wish to stay and see some of the scenes - that new girl, Jocelyn, she's a brilliant scene-artist, and I understand her and her mistress, Domme Walton, have something planned to celebrate auction day. Or would you prefer me to drive you home. We could perhaps stop off at a coffee shop or a bar on the way, if that's your desire. I'll be honest Ma'am, I'm kind of proud of being yours, and want to show off. And I-"

He broke off, and looked up as a slim, wiry girl of Indian origin approached. The girl - who wore a jeweled collar (which was rare, for despite the description "collared", few Dommes actually made their slaves wear such) bowed in a perfunctory manner to Ivy, and then sat down beside Damon.

"Hey, Damon, you know what Mistress told me?" she bubbled. "Domme Wagner's hopping mad. She wanted you for herself. Mistress said she was gonna challenge her to a duel. I mean, Domme Wagner was gonna challenge your mistress, not my mistress, I mean... anyway, she's got a message to pass on to your mistress."

This was normal protocol within the rules of the society - a message delivered via a slave had to go to the recipient's own slave, even if the Domme was present. However, it was normal politeness to at least offer apologies, if the mistress were present. A convention that was rarely overlooked - though Damon noticed that the girl didn't bother about offending Ivy, which made him boil inside.

"Mistress says to warn your mistress to stay away from Domme Wagner, until she can settle her down."

"Thank you, Flowerdew," replied Damon. And then, as the Indian girl got up and began to walk away. "Flowerdew, I think you forgot something."

The girl stopped, and looked round, a questioning look on her face.

"You forgot to bow to my mistress," Damon said, sternly. "When delivering a message in her presence, it's customary. If I let you forget that, Mistress would tan my hide."

"B-But no-one bows to Ivy - urm, Domme McKnight!" spluttered Flowerdew. "I mean... like, it's not as if she's a proper - oops." She clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Flowerdew," growled Damon. "It's my duty to ensure that Mistress is shown proper respect." He locked eyes with her, and left further words unsaid. Flowerdew flushed slightly, bowed to Ivy, and then scurried away.

"Anyway, as I was saying, mistress," continued Damon, calmly, ignoring any reference to what had just taken place. "There is a very good bar a short drive from here, if you crave a drink."

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy pressed her head back against the chair… right of course it was in the rules of the society. She was so wrapped up in what had happened and worried that even more intimate details of her life could be revealed to the women of the society. She was sure that her statement had given away her insecurities it was probably something she shouldn’t have let her submissive see. Failure number two. But Ivy had to respect that when given permission to speak freely her submissive used it to compliment and defend her.

She was thinking about what she might like to do right this moment, leaving with Damon and stopping for a drink sounded like a fabulous idea. But at the same time it might seem as though she was running away, and even when she was scared and unsure the one thing she didn’t do was run away. Obviously she’d been here months now and even with the horrid treatment she still kept coming. She was about to say that they could take in a scene or two, but the Indian girl had fairly bounced over to them and began to address Damon.

Ivy listened as the girl delivered her message to Damon, so Alicia was upset that Damon had chosen her. It seemed like several of the Domme’s were being sore losers tonight because they didn’t get chosen by him. And even if she didn’t understand why he had chosen her she felt proud to have him at her feet. A duel was a bit extreme for a spot of submissive jealously, though she didn’t doubt that most of the other Domme’s would love to see her humiliated.

When she heard the girl refer to her as Ivy she pulled herself out of her own thoughts and looked over at the girl, who then compounded it by starting to say she wasn’t a proper Domme. A flush stole over Ivy’s cheeks, but the way Damon handled things so perfectly had it fading away in record time.

If Alicia was ‘hopping’ mad Ivy figured the Domme would be taking her anger out on one of her submissives in a scene. A wicked thought flashed through her head, how mad would get if Ivy started a scene with Damon not far from her? She’d probably go from ‘hopping’ mad to ‘raging’ made. And there was something so delicious about wanting to enrage her.

But in the long run she wanted to get to know her submissive, she wouldn’t be comfortable with doing something in public with him until she’d done something in private with him. Until there was a deeper connection between them, though it was hard for Ivy to deny that she already felt something for Damon.

“I have plenty of drink at home, we shall retire from the society for tonight and we will both enjoy a drink as we get to know each other. Go prepare to leave my dear” she said as she released his chains so that he could go change into clothes fit for being out in public. “Meet me in the foyer when you’re ready to go.”

While he left she rose, steady on her heels and walked over to where Alicia was using her flogger on her newest submissive. Ivy almost felt bad for the guy, it wasn’t his fault that she’d failed to impress and sway Damon with her presents. She lingered for only a moment until she was sure Alicia had seen her and then she walked to the foyer. She was more than ready to leave the society for the evening.

 

[Alan23]

while Ivy was waiting, Domme Angelina Kelly - accompanied by Flowerdew, who had delivered her message - came up to Ivy.

"Domme Ivy, might I have a word," she asked. "Flowerdew has told me of her... her lapse in correct behavior, in failing to show you proper respect. Her shame is my shame. My I offer my sincere and heartfelt apologies, and please rest assured she will receive due and proper chastisement for her unpardonable behavior. And may I congratulate on your training of your slave - I am told the way he handled the affair was both graceful and efficient." She turned on her six-inch heels, and strode off, trusting (correctly) that Flowerdew would follow her.

A few minutes later, Damon emerged, dressed in a silk shirt and jeans, just in time to bow to Domme Kelly, as club etiquette required. "I'm sorry if I took too long, Mistress," he said. "There's a lot of Mistresses and their slaves leaving, and I had to queue for a turn in the changing rooms." He walked behind Ivy, and tugged at the hem of her corset, which had ridden up, exposing a gap between itself and the waistband of her skirt. "May I madam? There, all fixed."

He came and stood before her, his hands clasped respectfully in front of him. "My pardon for asking, Ma'am, but may I know your preference? Some Mistresses prefer their slaves to stand while waiting for instruction, and some like them to kneel. Naturally, I will adopt whatever posture you order." He smiled. "Anyway, Mistress, I took the liberty of informing Mister Fortright that we would be leaving, I trust that meets with your plans. May I have the keys to the car, Mistress?"

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy stepped aside with Domme Kelly for a moment, listening to her words. While Domme Kelly was never one of the Domme's that made Ivy's life within the society a living hell she was still a little taken aback that the woman had come to her to apologize for her submissives behavior. She didn't think that any of them cared enough to see to it that she was treated with the proper respect by their submissives. "Thank you Domme Angelina" she said with an nod of her head to the other woman. She watched the other woman walk away with Flowerdew following behind her, her head hung low and eyes cast to the floor. It seemed the girl had realized her mistake, Ivy might not be respected amongst the Domme's but, even if it were by default the submissives had to respect her.

When Damon returned her eyes fell over his body, even clothed he was quite the specimen she wanted to run her fingers over the silk of his shirt and feel his hardness beneath the soft material... a delightful contrast. But there was time for that later. She watched as he bowed to the other Domme. "You're just fine Damon, it's to be expected with everyone in a hurry to get their new pets home." Ivy was unsure of what he was doing as he walked behind her, but then his hands came down to adjust her corset and her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the strength in him as he adjusted the tight corset and admittedly it turned her on.

"You may stand Damon" but an imagine came to her head "but with your hands clasped behind your back unless I tell you otherwise." Him informing Mr. Fortright of their departure worked just fine for her as she was ready to get out of here. "But don't worry about that right now" she said as she placed the keys to her car in his hand. "I'm ready to leave" she said softly as she guided him through the foyer, she felt as though everyone was watching her, assessing her ability to be a Domme and it had only been the first night. She ushered him out into the cool night air and once outside she took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh of relief.

She led him to her car and waited as he unlocked the car and opened her door for her, once she was settled in the passenger seat with him behind the wheel she said softly "Let's go home Damon."

 

[Alan23]

Damon was finding his first ever duty as Ivy's slave - simply to drive her home - at once enjoyable and yet more difficult than he'd thought. Simply walking through the foyer was a challenge in itself. He could sense all eyes upon his new mistress. Some seemed jealous (which was flattering), others contemptuous, many of them were simply assessing - weighing her up, as if wondering if this woman had what it took to be the owner of a strong, high-quality slave. Being said slave, it was difficult to know how to react. Should one walk with head held high, showing contempt for those that were looking at Mistress? Or meet their gaze with a "what are you looking at" expression? Or should he pretend to be cowed, to avoid any of the hostile gazes taking it out on Mistress afterwards?

In the end, he contended himself with a blank stare ahead, which was quite enjoyable as it forced him to look at Mistress' rear view... which was one to die for, with her long, slim legs and tight ass, in the even tighter skirt. And that gorgeous half=moon of pale flesh where her corset had shifted upwards again.

He noticed that as they reached the cool night air outside, Mistress seemed to relax a little. He found herself admiring her. To keep returning to the club, time after time, when all the others made fun of her and belittled her unmercifully... Damon had been decorated for courage during his military service, and knew what it took to force yourself to do something you had to do - even though every nerve of your body and mind cried out against it! Ivy's continuing to frequent the society, absorbing the constant humiliation and insult, took courage of a different kind. He was, he admitted to himself, proud of her in a way he could not have been of Domme Wagner, or Domme Chaucer, or even of Domme Hollister. To be frightened and overcome it was, he reflected, the greatest of all kinds of bravery!

When they reached the car, he thumbed the switch on the key to unlock the car doors, and waited, hands behind his back as instructed, for Mistress to seat herself. The material of the seats was a little shiny, some kind of leather (or a fake version, perhaps) which caused her skirt to ride upwards rather radically, giving him a sight of her black panties, before she hastily rearranged herself. He was already sporting a massive erection, but at the sight of this he became even harder.

He seated himself behind the wheel, running his eyes over the dash to familiarize himself. Not that driving the vehicle could present many problems - after all, he'd piloted tanks and other military vehicles, so this would be easy enough. The engine purred into life with a single twist of the key and he snicked off the handbrake and nosed the car out into the heavy traffic, listening attentively as Mistress gave him the directions for her condo. The route would take them through a short section of back-streets with which he was familiar, then straight onto the freeway, exiting at a ramp that he'd driven on before, so they'd be no problem finding his way without further instruction.

The drive home was uneventful enough, but not without inconvenience. Normally, the trip would have taken a half hour or so, but roadworks on the freeway forced them to take a long detour, which added at least fifteen minutes to the journey. Then the car sprung a puncture, after driving over a shard of broken glass which it was impossible to pick out even in the car's powerful headlights, and Damon was forced to pull onto the hard shoulder and change the wheel. Finally, they came across an accident, with a motorbike lying on the road and a police officer holding up traffic while the road could be cleared of debris, though, thankfully, no-one appeared to be badly injured (this meant a lot to Damon, who had seen enough shattered human bodies to last him several lifetimes). All in all, by the time they reached the exit rank, they'd been driving an hour and a quarter.

Damon looked across, to address his mistress, wondering why her voice seemed to have taken on a slightly higher tone, as if she were worried about something. She was staring straight ahead, a worried look on her pretty face, squirming in her seat, as if she were suddenly finding the luxurious interior of the car uncomfortable. Her legs were tightly crossed, and she kept shifting about and jiggling.

"Is everything all right, Mistress?" he asked, solicitiously. "We're nearly home, now. Do I turn into Flower Street or go past it and through Market Street?"

 

[torridsoul]

If the truth must be told Ivy had always hated car rides, there were so many variables that could prolong the time spent in the car. Tonight was proving that point quite perfectly, the fifteen minute detour she could handle, that made the care ride forty five minutes and she’d used the washroom before she left the society. But then a tire had picked up a piece of glass and gone flat, this added even more time and by then Ivy could feel the need to use the restroom build. She’d crossed her legs and hoped for the best. Luckily Damon was apt at changing the tire so she wasn’t waiting too long; but when someone had a weak bladder like she had any wait could mean the difference between wetting herself and making it to the rest room.

After the tire incident Ivy had begun to think that she would make it, they were almost home and she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of her new submissive. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but those hopes and dreams were crush when they came across the accident. She crossed her legs and slide down in the seat a little, squirming slowly against the rich leather. She clenched her eyes closed tight for a moment before opening them and staring straight ahead. She even tried to control her breathing. Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in… Breathe out. But after a while on the breath out she’d feel a little twinge between her legs and she knew she was dangerously close to losing control.

“Turn on Flower, and drive faster Damon.”

Ivy could feel a bit of wetness leaking from between her thighs and she clenched her inner muscles. They were only five minutes from home, but as each minute dragged by her body leaked a little more, her panties were soaked and when they finally pulled into her parking spot in the garage she dashed out of the car. There was a small puddle in the seat beneath her and the entire back of her skirt was soaked. It was humiliating; she didn’t want him to see her this way. But as she stood outside the car gathering her things she could feel the warmth of her urine sliding down her thighs. It was a slow trickle; she knew that things could get a lot worse.

Damon had the keys and she directed him to the elevator, she punched he button for the 14th floor. Crossing her legs and fingers and praying that she made it to the bathroom to relieve herself properly.

 

[Alan23]

Having heard talk from the other submissives (and their mistresses), and seeing how quickly Ivy had needed to scurry to the bathroom back at the society made Damon perfectly aware of what was happening to Ivy. Her constant crossing and re-crossing of her legs, her loud breathing, her look of consternation, made things clear enough. Pretending not to know the reason why, he jammed his foot on the accelerator of the car, cut in between two vehicles (who's drivers both hooted and gave him the unmistakeable sign of the finger) and skidded into Flower Street, the tail of the car threatening to break away, so fast did he corner. He managed to bring the car under control, but was aware the g-forces involved were not helping his mistress' cause any!

By running two red lights, and exceeding the speed limit by 10mph, which was as fast as he could on such a crowded street, he managed to cut the rest of the drive down to five minutes or so. He skidded the car to a halt, risking a look across the seat. All looked fine at the top of her thighs when she was seated, but as she got out, maintaining as much unhurried dignity as she could, he saw a distinctive wet patch on the seat, and that there was a huge stain of wetness across the back of her skirt. He went around the car, on the way to the elevator, and deliberately pretended not to be able to find it, giving him an excuse not to look at her, doing his best to spare her what embarrassment he could.

The elevator seemed to take forever, and Damon was forced to exclaim in delight as he pretended to admire the wood paneling of the elevator. At one point, the car came to a halt and the doors began to open, and he quickly shot out his finger onto the button and forced them closed again, then the "up" button. He clasped his hand to his mouth. "Oops, sorry. Meant to hold the doors open - pushed the wrong one," he said. During this action his peripheral vision had caught sight of Mistress' legs, and he could see small but highly visible trails of urine running down them, but thankfully they were just slight enough that he could, with some credibility, pretend not to notice.

When they reached Floor 14, he hurried to her door, turned the key and flung the door open all in one swift movement. He stood back, noting that she had dropped all pretense and was sprinting for what he assumed was the bathroom. Blandly, he began mixing them both drinks, taking the materials from an ornate cocktail cabinet that stood in one corner. He decided not to mention the incident, unless she did.

However, a certain emotion was stirring in him. Somehow, this weakness of hers, along with her obvious shyness and vulnerability - he had to admit it. After knowing so many bad-assed, confident women in his life... this made a refreshing change. He felt protective of her, as if he wanted to cherish her, even more so than he had when he'd made his decision to choose her. In fact... her little problem was turning him on!

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy in general had a sweet disposition and an upbeat attitude, she took a lot of bullshit from all over the place and normally she wouldn’t accuse anyone of doing something on purpose. But as she finally reached the bathroom in her bedroom she pulled off her skirt and tossed it in the tub, her thong panties followed the skirt into the tub and Ivy hurried over to the toilet – she couldn’t help but think that Damon had hit those buttons on the elevator on purpose. Had he been trying to push her, to make her really wet herself or had it really been an accident?

She didn’t like thinking these things, considering from the time she’d led him off the stage until the time they got in the elevator he’d been… well perfect. While she was in the bathroom she stripped out of her corset as well. Ivy could hear Damon moving around in her living room and a sigh escaped from her lips, what the hell was she supposed to do with him? A strong submissive deserved a strong Dominant and that was the last thing that she was.

When she finished on the toilet she moved over to the shower stall, every time she had an “accident” she felt like she needed a scrub, and while she knew she shouldn’t have kept Damon waiting there was no way she was going out there without washing away any remnants of what just happened. She pulled a shower cap over her head and turned the hot water on; quickly she lathered her loofah and scrubbed herself from her hips down. Ivy knew that she shouldn’t hate herself, but sometimes when this happened and someone else was there to witness it all she could feel was a deep sense of self-loathing.

The water rinsed the soap away and Ivy stepped out of the shower, drying herself off and pulling the cap off of her head. She ran hot water in the tub with her skirt and panties and wondered if they’d be salvageable or not before slipping into her silk robe, the color matched that of her favorite gem the blue topaz and was a lovely contrast with her lightly tanned skin and her dirty blond curls. She took a few deep breaths and wandered back out into her living room, where Damon stood at her bar cabinet fixing drinks.

Any other Domme would have a punishment ready for this kind of thing, accident or not. But Ivy had no idea what to do. She could probably check out the ‘playroom’ as she called it. Maybe whip him? She didn’t know. The thought crossed her mind that maybe she should call her mother or Georgina and ask for a few lessons.

“I don’t know why you did it, but I don’t think that incident in the elevator was an accident.” She said softly as she leaned with her back against the wall and her arms across her chest.

 

[Alan23]

Damon was bemused. She was right of course... he had "accidentally" shut the doors in the other people's faces, so that the lift wouldn't stop. He knew his Mistress was in a hurry. But he couldn't admit that he knew why!

"Mistress, I don't understand," he said, truthfully. He clasped his hands behind his back, as he had been instructed. "You said you were in a hurry to get home, and I gathered the last thing you'd need was for the elevator to stop. So isn't it a good thing I accidentally closed the door on those people?" He cursed himself. It was a clumsy explanation, and he knew it. Surely she'd guess he knew why she was in such a rush. He remembered he'd still have to find an excuse for cleaning the car seat tomorrow, which was further going to tax his powers of diplomacy. "Although, I do admit, perhaps subconsciously there was a Freudian element to it. I was in a hurry too, you see, Mistress." He looked her in the eye.

"I've been waiting for this time for so long. Ever since I first met you. Counting the seconds until tonight, and my time on the block. I... Mistress, I wanted to be alone with you."

He looked at her in the deep blue robe. He had no need to fake sincerity, at least. She looked breathtaking! In her agitation, the neckline had disarranged itself slightly, and her beautiful breasts looked about to pop out at any moment. The breasts themselves were obviously heaving in emotion, which could have been rage. Her red face supported this theory, though of course it could have been embarrassment.

"But if you say I have done wrong, Mistress, than I have done wrong," he concluded. "Should I fetch anything, any tool of chastisement, or would you prefer that to wait until tomorrow? And am I allowed to ask for an explanation as to your anger?"

As he spoke, he picked up the tray of drinks, and carried it over to her, kneeling and offering it. "I took the liberty of making one for myself, Mistress," he said, contritely. "I shall, of course, not touch it unless you give me permission. I hope I have mixed yours to your satisfaction."

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy was deflated when he clasped his hands behind his back, she wasn’t angry at him. She was angry at herself, she’d wet her pants like a little girl and she knew that he was very well aware of what she’d done; how could he not be? That was why he’d hit those buttons. Instead of being upset and embarrassed she should be thankful that he hadn’t allowed anyone else onto the elevator to witness what she was going through. Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d been unable to control herself and he had witnessed it? And yet, he still looked at her as if she were desirable and he still said that he was in hurry to be alone with her.

“It’s not anger, no need to fetch anything” she said with a sigh and took a drink off the tray, waving to him that it was more than alright for him to drink his as well as put the tray down. Could she play it off like she hadn’t wet herself? It seemed as thought that was what he was doing. “I know you’re not oblivious to what happened in the car, and in the elevator and I appreciate that you’re acting as if you have no clue what happened. “ She took a sip of her drink then, the only time she ever drank anything was when she was at home or when there was a restroom close by.

“The drink is perfect” she said, delaying what she was about say.

“It’s not anger, it’s embarrassment “ Ivy figured that she probably shouldn’t be telling him this, but she needed him to understand. “It would have been worse for me, if you’d let those people on the elevator and I’d had to wait even longer I know that. But it was an acknowledgement that you knew what I was going through, and I suppose I wasn’t ready for that.”

After she spoke the words the red flush that had taken over her face and chest had faded and she seemed to have relaxed a bit. It seemed better to her that they were open and honest with each other and that they didn’t pretend every time she had to run to the rest room or worse every time she didn’t make it to the rest room.

 

[Alan23]

"Mistress, I - " Damon began, and then covered his unsureness by another sip of his drink. He sat down by her feet, bringing the tray with the liquor, mix and ice-bucket. "I'd like to speak frankly. I'd like to tell you of a discussion I had, a few nights ago, with Domme Hollister. I am not breaking any confidences here, nor am I disobeying Domme Hollister. She told me I could repeat the conversation or not, as I judged necessary. But it's relevant that I decided which Domme I would choose before the discussion took place!" He refilled her glass, and continued.

"I had, as I say, already decided you were the Mistress I wanted. And, naturally, when I heard the other slaves talk about you - yes, Mistress, I'm afraid slaves do gossip about the Dommes, whether you knew it or not - it made me angry. It felt like an insult, since in my mind I already regarded myself as yours - but the other slaves couldn't know this, of course, since club rules forbid any slave discussing their choice before they are collared. They meant no harm to me, you see, they didn't know. Anyway...

"They called you all sorts of names. 'Incontinent Ivy', "Pisspants Princess', and other hurtful things. They made fun of how you could not stand up to the other Dommes, or even the submissives. How you could not control your blushing, how you had enver been able to attract a submissive. I clenched my jaw shut and said nothing, as the rules dictated. However, the rules do allow an un-owned slave to seek advice form a Domme, and I sought out Domme Hollister for that purpose.

"Domme Hollister, to my surprise, guessed from my hints exactly who I had chosen. Furthermore, far from expressing surprise, she congratulated me on my choice. She described you as a Domme of great intelligence and high potential, very much in your mother's mold. And said quite clearly that with the right, supportive slave, and a little more confidence, you could be just as strong a woman as your mother was. But she warned me, too, that I would need a great deal of patience and forbearance to get you to that point.

"I replied frankly to Domme Hollister that I appreciated her advice, but that it hadn't changed my decision... since I had decided upon you, anyway. I admit, it was partly your gift to me of the paintings that did it - rather than simply shower me with promises and expensive things, you took the trouble to find out what I really liked - and party, well... other things.

"The thing is, Mistress - my high regard for you hasn't changed any of my regard for you. I knew that you had... urm... a small bladder control problem when you get nervous... before I chose you. And I chose you anyway. Frankly... Mistress, you could pee yourself in front of the President and First Lady, until there was a puddle on the ground, and I'd still regard you as the prettiest, most intelligent Domme in the club. And my regard for you would remain unshaken. I'd still be proud that you were my mistress."

He mixed himself another drink, and remained silent, waiting for her to speak.

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy listened to his every word, her drink shaking slightly in her hands the ice clinking against the sides of the glass. She listened as he told her about what the other slaves would say about her, Ivy should have been prepared to hear what they said about her since she already knew they did it. If the Domme’s did it you can be sure that their submissives were doing the same thing. But she supposed that no one was ever really prepared to hear that people who were supposed to be adults were making fun of her behind her back. That was the problem with clubs, especially when you were the one person who didn’t quite fit in.

She listened as he spoke of his conversation with Georgina, and she knew that the woman had faith in her abilities to become a proper Domme. She’d always told Ivy as much, and now that she had submissive Ivy knew that she really had to figure it all out so that Damon could have the Domme that he truly deserved.

With a shaking hand she brought her drink to her lips and took a slow sip, she let the alcohol burn down her throat she needed the liquid courage. She took another sip and then down the rest of the drink, setting it down on the tray with a slightly steadier hand.

“Damon” she said his name softly, her fingers dropping to his shoulder.

“No one has ever said such things to me, or about me. You deserve a good Domme”

Her nails pressed into his shoulder gently “I really want to be that Domme for you” Ivy was scared out of her mind; she didn’t want to disappoint him.

 

[Alan23]

"Well, you see, Mistress," laughed Damon. "You are! You're already that excellent Domme. Kind, and fair, and caring. You - " he pulled up short as he heard the clatter, when she set down the glass. "Mistress, you're trembling." He took her hand, holding it very strongly around the wrist. His grip was like iron - used to wrestling heavy military machinery over all kinds of terrain. There was no way her hand could still tremble, given the power with which he held it. Still holding her wrist, he climbed up on the small couch beside her, moving close. He could smell the warm heat emanating from her, the fresh smell from her recent shower, see the light reflecting from the pinkness that even tanned skin takes from a hot shower. Very gently, contrasting with his strength, he pushed back a few tendrils of her still slightly damp hair, that was falling forward over her forehead.

"Beautiful Mistress, there's some things we need to talk about," he whispered. "First, you needn't think that just because I've chosen the path of submission, or that I've been a soldier - that I'm totally insensitive to finer feelings. I know how embarrassing it must be for you when other Dommes bully you in front of your slave. I know how upset you were, when you wet yourse - er, when you only just made it to the bathroom, earlier. I know you lack confidence.

"We're going to have to make some plans, Mistress. To prove to the other members of the club just how strong a Domme you can be. How you can command a slave into instant obedience with just a stern look. How you can hold your own in conversation. How confident you can be, when you know your true worth.

"First, we're going to have to work out plans as to what to do when... when your problem occurs in public, and how we're to deal with it. And you have to realize that when it does happen - instead of hating yourself, you are still an intelligent, dominant woman, worthy of respect. And that your slave's regard for you remains undiminished." Without waiting for permission, he reached across and kissed her, exploring gently with his tongue, then withdrew. "Now, specifics. How often does it happen, and under what circumstances. And what must I do, when it does?"

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy gasped softly when his hand came around her wrist; the way he held her made her wonder if that was what it must feel like to wear cuffs. He was more than firm, more than strong she felt as though his hand was burning into her skin, leaving an impression she’d never be able to forget. He got so close to her, she could smell the scent that was uniquely his own. When he reached forward and pushed the hair that was falling across her face she wondered for a brief moment what it would be like to be the submissive rather than the dominant.

She listened to him speak, the tone of his voice the slight accent that gave away that he wasn’t originally from New York, or even the United States. He called her beautiful, Ivy had been called beautiful before… but for some reason it didn’t have the same impact as having him tell her did. Ivy doubted that she’d ever be able to command a slave into obedience with just a stern look, but knowing that he had that in her somewhere made her feel just a little stronger.

‘I am an intelligent, dominant woman… worthy of respect’ Ivy said those words in her head. He was right, she needed to remember that she was worthy for respect. She was repeating those words in her head when his lips came down on hers, a startled moan slipped from her lips and she kissed him back. Her tongue explored against his and a hot flush took over her body. When he pulled away, she wasn’t ready for the kiss to end so she slid her fingers around to the back of his neck and pulled him back to her. Her lips finding his again for just a moment and tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth.

When she finally pulled away from him her cheeks and chest were burning bright red but her voice was steadier than it’d ever been. “Specifics… It doesn’t happen as often as the other Domme’s think it does, a handful of times a year maybe. And it usually only happens when… well like tonight, the car ride home was one disaster after another “. Even though Ivy thought she probably could have had him stop at a gas station, she didn’t know why that thought never crossed her mind.

“I don’t know what you could do when it happens to be honest, you did the best you could do tonight and… and I appreciate that. I guess you could find a way to get me out of the situation if you see it happening, other than that I don’t think there is much that can be done.”

 

[Alan23]

Damon smiled, and gently stroked Ivy's cheek. "And Mistress, I'll always do the best I can for you. I'm yours now." He rubbed his finger along her teeth, touching both her top and bottom lip. "I'm so proud of my lovely mistress... I want all the other Dommes to respect and admire you, and know your true worth." He smiled, seeing how deep her blush was. "So, what we need to do is make sure if we're on too long a trip or some other situation and you're feeling a bit nervous, to make sure we allow for it. How much you drink makes no difference, by the way. If you cut down on your liquid intake, all it does is make your urine go darker and smellier. I know - I've been short of water enough times.

While he spoke, he gently, moving a few inches at a time, slipped his right arm around her, pulling her closer.

"And you've got to know that when you do ... have an accident, it's not your fault, and it doesn't stop how I feel about you."

He kissed her again, harder this time, forcing his tongue into her mouth.

"Now, we have to stop some of those other mistresses bullying you. I know you're frightened of them, but it isn't your fault you've got some confidence issues. You're as much entitled to respect as anyone else there. We have to talk this through..."

While she was distracted, considering his words, he slipped his left hand inside her robe, gently but firmly massaging her breast.

"So tell me - how does it feel when they ridicule and bully you in public? Tell me in detail..."

 

[torridsoul]

"I'll keep that in mind" she said softly in response to his comment about how how much she drank made no difference. She'd never realized that, she just always assumed that the less she drank the less she would have to use the restroom. It was hard to think with his hands on her body, touching her lips and then slipping his arm around her and pulling her close to him. Ivy cuddled into him gently, she couldn't help herself his strength was just too reassuring not to.

Ivy had been about to say something about knowing it's not her fault being easier sad than done, but before she could get the words out he'd kissed her again. His lips against hers pushed any rational thoughts right out of her head, she lost herself in his kisses easily. Her tongue grinding gently against his, as she savored the taste of him. She whimpered gently against his lips as her hands found his shoulders her nails dug into them gently, his shirt was the only thing that stopped her nails from leaving little half-moon welts in his skin.

She didn't want to end the kiss, but he'd pulled away and started talking once again. Even though Ivy didn't want to give much thought to the other Domme's and their bullying she knew he was right. she was entitled respect and she knew that she would have to do something sooner or later or she would go crazy.

While she was thinking on his words his hand slipped into her robe, she wasn't so lost in thought that she didn't feel his hand moving into her robe... but she didn't protest either, why would she? A soft gasp caught on her lips when he began to firmly rub her breast, her nipple hardened against his palm.

Ivy couldn't remember a time when she'd felt this good after an... accident. Even thought Damon had seen what happened and wished to talk about it she found that she wanted to talk about it with him.

"It's humiliating... people see me and I wonder if they've noticed, I wonder if they can smell it and what they're thinking about me. It makes me want to find a hole to crawl into. And then to have people come up with horrid nicknames for me because I didn't make it to the rest room in time, it makes me not want to leave the apartment sometimes."

 

[Alan23]

Damon continued to gently massage Ivy's breast, tweaking and playing with her nipple, which was becoming steadily more erect under his loving ministrations. "And yet, Mistress, you do leave the apartment. And when other Dommes mock you, you don't crawl into a hole, or even make a serious search for one. Yes, you are humiliated, but you are not defeated." He leaned across and kissed her again, harder this time. He felt her gasp slightly. "Those Dommes, they've pulled every trick they know to reduce you to nothingness, and it hasn't worked. Speaking as someone who has been decorated for bravery - remind me to show you the regiment's website, sometime - I know there are many different sorts of courage. I won't be modest - it took one kind of courage to run out under heavy shell fire and rescue my Commanding Officer in Afghanistan - though I was scared shitless the whole time, I admit - but that kind isn't the only kind."

He continued massaging her breast, now much harder. He heard a small whimper escape her lips. He slipped the other arm from her shoulder and slid it downwards, into the gap in her robe, heading further down along her torso, reaching the outer part of her hip.

"Being a frail, shy woman, surrounded by bigger, more confident women, and unable to defend yourself - knowing that at any moment, your face may explode into an uncontrollable blush when they mock you - having them treat you with contempt and mockery, and not being able to do anything about it - and knowing that at any moment, you might have to make a frantic dash for a restroom, or even wet yourself in public, which damages your dignity and confidence even more - and enduring this under the symbolic eyes of your mother, who achieved so much in the same field. This would be enough to make most women slink away in disgrace, never to return."

He kissed her again, and slid his hand down between her legs. Her robe was open now, a crushed mass between her body and the couch. He gently played around the entrance to her sex, feeling wetness even on the boundaries.

"But not my mistress. Not my beautiful mistress. Ordinary women, yes, they'd scurry away and hide, never to emerge. But my mistress, she's a different stamp of a woman. She endures everything they can throw at her, and comes back for more. She has the kind of courage even I admire. She is the greatest Domme in the society. And that's why, now that I am finally hers, this is the proudest night of my life."

 

[torridsoul]

Ivy's body felt as if it were on fire, it was like nothing she'd ever felt before. Just his kiss ignited her. What was it about him? What was wrong with her? Why was she just letting him touch her however he wanted... she was the Dominant not him! But she couldn't bring herself to push his hands away from her body or turn away from his kiss. He was just... so much, he filled all of her senses and left her wanting more. Not to mention the fact that he built her up like no one ever had before. Damon was making her feel confidant, beautiful, sexy. All of the things she'd always long to be to a man, all of the things she'd always longed to be for herself. He was amazing, he was the best thing to ever happen to her.

It probably would have been easier for his words to sink into her brain, into her heart if his hands weren't on her breasts. If his mouth wasn't mere inches from her lips, swollen from the hard kisses he'd bestowed upon hers. If she wasn't crushed between him and the couch with her robe falling open and his hand headed into it. She took a deep breath and slid her hands to his shoulders. "Damon" she said his name softly, breathlessly. He'd said that she was brave, for many reasons but she'd never been sexually brave, adventurous. Hell she hadn't even wandered into the playroom more than once or twice.

But she was in need and the words that followed shocked the hell out of her... "You're very skilled with words, but you're talking to much" she slid her hands from his shoulders into his hair and applied a bit of gentle pressure so that he would slid down further. "Maybe there is something else you could do with your mouth."