Bondage Ranch 6: Taming the Mistress, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Loose Id Titles by Sindra van Yssel
Sindra van Yssel
Bondage Ranch 6:
TAMING THE MISTRESS
Sindra van Yssel
www.loose-id.com
Bondage Ranch 6: Taming the Mistress
Copyright © June 2014 by Sindra van Yssel
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eISBN 9781623006082
Editor: Jana Armstrong
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Published in the United States of America
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
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Chapter One
I’m looking fine tonight.
Sue Taylor, better known to the denizens of Bondage Ranch as Mistress Sue, walked into the dungeon dressed to kill. As much cleavage as she could manage threatened to spill over her tight and shiny black leather bustier. A matching miniskirt, with buckles, revealed a glimpse of flesh above thigh-high patent leather boots. Her heels clicked on the polished floor. The room was used as a ballroom most of the year, but right now, it was kink central.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been here without at least one date lined up. Originally, Keith, a submissive from New York, was supposed to meet her there. But Keith suddenly remembered he was married, so that was the end of that. She cursed herself for the naïveté that had let her go months without suspecting. She didn’t even have love as an excuse. She was never in love with Keith. But more and more of her friends had steady partners, and it was annoying to have to find someone new all the time.
She’d been tempted to stay home. She had a stack of science fiction lined up and enough microwaveable meals to last all weekend. She’d barely have to get out of bed. But that would be chicken. I’ll find someone easily enough.
A naked woman on a table screamed and bucked as red wax was dripped onto her breasts. Then she took a deep breath as the wax rapidly cooled. Sue smiled as she inhaled the scent of paraffin. The woman looked like she was having a good time, and so did her dom, a big African American male in tight leather pants. For a moment, Sue imagined what it would feel like to be bound and helpless like the woman, in the hands of someone she trusted. It had been a long time since she’d felt that.
A very long time.
She looked across the room to where Bruce, a tall dom, was tying up his curvy brunette wife, Laera. He had her leg tied to a winch hanging from the ceiling. Soon, Laera would be completely in the air, held secure by Bruce’s expert knots. Then he would tie and retie the knots to move her about almost as if she were a puppet. Laera was already blissed out, her eyes half closed and a beatific smile teasing her lips.
Bruce had been the last man ever to tie Sue up. He’d learned a lot of skills since then, but he was still the same man. Gentle, caring, firm. Sue hadn’t wanted to let him go, but she’d known from the start their relationship wasn’t built to last. It was almost right but not quite, and she never put a finger on what was missing. Sometimes she told herself she wasn’t cut out to be a submissive and had always been destined to be a domme. She suspected that wasn’t quite right either. Bruce had taken her to a club in Philadelphia. The first couple of times, she’d gone as his sub, but the last time had been just as a friend. A man had approached her and called her Mistress, and men had been doing it ever since.
She crossed the room to a chair in the corner. There were six of the chairs scattered about, and they were new. Sitting on small wooden platforms with ornate black metal arms and legs and soft, dark velvet cushions, they were almost thrones. Each came in a different color with a matching cushion in front of it. Clearly, the chairs were for dominants, and the cushions for submissives. Sue headed for a dark red chair that matched her shade of her lipstick. She sat and crossed her legs. It was a good way to show off her spike heels. Subs loved spike heels and the air of menace they created. It won’t be long until I get some male attention.
In fact, a man was staring at her now from across the room, and she locked gazes with him for a moment. He held her gaze, rather than averting as so many submissives did, until she was certain he was a dominant. And what a physical specimen! He had dark, tanned skin. Bare chested save for a diagonal black leather strap, he had exquisitely defined pecs and six-pack abs. A black tattoo of a dragon snaked up his muscled shoulder. Long blond hair. He was even taller than Bruce. And he was wearing a steel-gray kilt with confidence. Whatcha got on underneath the kilt? Sue would be almost shocked if a man like that wasn’t going commando.
Crap. So not your type. Sue looked away and realized she had averted her gaze this time.
“Ma’am?”
Sue turned and noticed a woman standing nearby. Dark brown hair flowed generously over her shoulders, and she wore a lacy black teddy through which Sue could clearly make out dusky nipples. The woman was looking at the floor or perhaps at Sue’s boots. Sue had seen her before. Melanie? I think that’s her name.
“Yes?” Sue answered.
“If Ma’am would be interested in using this one as a submissive this evening, this one would be honored.”
Sue ground her teeth. What was wrong or unsubmissive about using the word “I”? Formal language could be a lot of fun, but she’d never cared for people talking about themselves in the third person. “What’s your name?”
“Melanie. Unless it pleases you for it to be otherwise, Ma’am.”
Sue leaned back and considered. She occasionally topped women, although it wasn’t her thing. Still, BDSM didn’t always have to be about sex, and she didn’t have to be sexually attracted to enjoy using her skills with a flogger. The other reason she played with women, if she was going to be perfectly honest, was that men thought it was hot, and she liked men thinking she was hot. A nice public scene would pass the time and possibly attract interest from others. She was normally quite comfortable alone, but Bondage Ranch was different. Being alone where so many were being sexual together in public ate at her self-esteem. And yet she knew she would not have to wait long. Even when she brought a submissive to the weekend getaways, people made offers.
She wondered what the man in the kilt would think. Would he watch her play with another woman? Want a threesome perhaps? Melanie would probably like receiving attention from two dominants. Sue frowned at her emotional response. Why do I care what he thinks?
“Melanie is fine. What do you want done to you?” Sue tried to will the sub to meet her gaze.
Melanie stared resolutely at the floor. “Whatever Ma’am wishes.”
Sue rolled her eyes. Everyone had limits, with the possible exception of crazy people. Everyone had desires of their own too. “What I wish is for you to answer the fucking question.”
That made Melanie’s eyes jerk up. “Ma’am?” Melanie looked genuinely scared, which was ridiculous.
Sue took a deep breath. She hadn’t always had such a short temper. Top’s disease, they called it, when a dominant got so used to being obeyed they quit using common courtesy. She tried again. “When a dominant asks you a question, they probably want an answer, not an evasion. Now then, what would you like to have done to you?”
“This one tries not to have expectations.”
“Maybe you should start,” Sue suggested as gently as she could. “You’ll have better scenes. Please answer the question.”
“Um, maybe some needle play? May this one kneel, Ma’am?”
Sue wasn’t into needles. With some effort, she’d gotten to the point where she didn’t feel sick at the sight of people playing with them and didn’t have to turn away. She could smile politely and say, “Nice scene.”
Obviously her face betrayed her because Melanie quickly added, “Or anything else that pleases you, Ma’am.” She started to kneel on the cushion.
“No.”
“Ma’am?” Melanie stopped in an awkward position, her knees bent.
“No, thank you, Melanie. Not today. Possibly Sir Gardner would be interested.” Sue knew he’d done those kinds of scenes before. Just because it wasn’t her thing didn’t mean she didn’t want other people having their fun. Hopefully not in her direct view.
“Was hoping for a Mistress, Ma’am.” Melanie straightened.
“Valerie likes to do all sorts of things.”
“She’s a switch.” It was said with obvious disgust.
Sue wondered how Melanie would feel if she knew Sue had once been a submissive too. “Sometimes that’s a good thing. If your top knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end, they may have a better idea of how to make you feel good as well. And think about it. What’s sexier, a top brave enough to face what you’re being subjected to, or one that isn’t?”
“Doms shouldn’t submit. They should be too strong for that.”
Sue smiled, even though she disagreed. It was good to hear Melanie argue. It meant the girl had a little spunk after all. It might be interesting to try to bring that out, but Sue wasn’t sure the pleasure would be mutual. Melanie didn’t seem to want to have a backbone. Hopefully, she’d get there. In an attempt to soften the blow of rejection, she said, truthfully enough, “I’m afraid I prefer men.”
“Oh. Sorry, Ma’am.” Melanie took one step backward, turned, and walked away.
Sue leaned back again. What was it like to offer yourself, so much of yourself, and then be turned down? Not that Melanie was really willing to do anything, but still. To say it and then be told no. Sue couldn’t let that force her to do something she didn’t want to do, but she sympathized.
Then the memory of Bruce setting her free came back, and she remembered all too well what it felt like. She could only take that kind of pain once. She couldn’t give her all to someone and risk him not wanting her. Being a domme was easier. She dressed up, and people approached her. When she approached a prospective sub, it didn’t hurt nearly as much to be told, “No, I don’t want you to hit my cock with a ruler,” as it would have to be told, “I don’t want your submission.” Not wanting to have one’s privates tortured seemed perfectly reasonable, and she wouldn’t take it personally.
She looked around. The man in the kilt was still watching her. One couldn’t always tell for certain if people were doms or subs. And many people switched. Still, she wasn’t going to cross the room and ask him if he’d like a flogging. He looked like he might chew her in two.
Fuck. I can’t be scared of the guy.
A familiar face cut in front of her view. His lean visage, athletic form, and graying hair were all too familiar. She’d been in a relationship with Frank for over a year. She’d never been exclusive with him, but for a while, he had promised he was faithful only to her. It hadn’t been fair, but they’d reveled in the asymmetry of it. Or so she had thought.
Frank moved in front of her and came to a stop. “Mistress Sue. You’re looking very well.”
Sue smiled. It was good to feel desirable, and she was still fond of him. “Thank you.”
“May I kneel?”
“That would bring back memories perhaps best left untouched.” She hated to say it, even though it was the truth. She liked being the strong one, the one who was less attached. Plenty of subs out there, but there was only one Mistress Sue. Not that Mistress Sue was entirely real. She primped and dressed to be a male sub’s fantasy, so naturally they came flocking. She didn’t let them see her cry. But Frank had seen her sob—once. She suspected that had been the beginning of the end, when he discovered she was something more human than a leather-clad ideal.
“There were good times.”
“There were excellent times,” Sue agreed.
“Perhaps there could be again.” He knelt, despite not getting permission.
“Carmen let you go?” She had been about to say left you, but in the world as Frank saw it, Mistresses did not leave slaves. They released them. Her eyes flickered over to where Carmen, a lovely big, curvy woman with café au lait skin and streaked hair, was chatting with a handsome man with long black hair girls envied. Ben, a submissive she had once played with herself.
When she looked back at Frank, she saw him biting his lip. He was struggling with his emotions. Frank not only couldn’t deal with her crying, he’d never been any good with crying for himself either. “Yes,” he said, his voice hushed.
“When?”
“Two d— Just after we got tickets to this place.”
She knew Frank well enough to know when he was lying, and she’d noticed what he’d started to say. Tickets had been sold out to Bondage Ranch over a month in advance this time. Just two days. And he’s raw and tender and wants someone so he can feel he doesn’t suck. I know what that’s like, even if I pretend. She’d always moved on quickly. But there was quickly, and there was two days. Two days wasn’t enough time to recover.
“Maybe,” she said gently, “it would be better to go home and be kind to yourself. Better to lose the cost of a ticket than to be miserable here, watching her.” Frank was a successful lawyer. He certainly didn’t have to worry about the money. “There will be other events. You’ll find someone. You’re an attractive and successful man.”
“I’ve missed you for a long time, Mistress.”
She chuckled. “Well, you certainly found a pleasant enough diversion for it.” She’s gorgeous, Sue was about to say. If Frank and Carmen had still been together, it would have been gracious, but now it would simply be cruel.
“There’s no reason for us to both be alone here when we can have each other. We know how we work.”
He was right. And normally a weekend of submissive company would be enough for Sue. Someone to push back the loneliness for a while. Someone to fuck the pain away. Someone to make her feel like a goddess. But this time, she wanted more—and less. She didn’t want a relationship with Frank. She’d never feel she could be herself with him again. And if she had to settle for someone for a weekend, someone to make her feel invincible, then it couldn’t be someone who’d seen her cry and lost respect for her because of it.
“It’s a lovely offer, Frank. Thank you, and I appreciate it. I don’t think it would be good for either of us right now. I think you should go home. And if you approach another Mistress, Frank, she needs to know it’s been just two days. Dommes need information so they can do the right thing and push the right buttons.”
“And yet, it’s the reason you won’t play with me.”
“Not only that, Frank. Not only that. But I still care for you. And I don’t want to hurt you further.” Sue pushed herself out of her chair. “Stand, Frank.” She said it in her best authoritative voice.
He blinked. Maybe she shouldn’t have given him an order, because his eyes showed hope for a moment. She didn’t mean to lead him on. He got to his feet.
She stood and hugged him, fiercely. There had been plenty of good times. She took no joy from seeing him dumped, although she might have the first month or two after he’d been gone. “It gets better, Frank. You’ll get better. Give yourself time. Be nice to yourself. It’s so easy to question yourself after these things. Was I smart enough, strong enough? Was I attentive enough? Don’t. You’re a good person. You deserve better.”
He squeezed her, and then after a good minute, pulled away. “Did you ask yourself those questions?” he asked.
She had, she supposed. But what she’d been thinking about was her breakup with Bruce all those years ago. “Everyone does,” she said. “I’ll hold you for as long as you need to be held.”
He nodded and stepped back. “You’re sure you don’t want me to kneel for you, Mistress?”
If anyone else had called her Mistress without asking, she’d have corrected him. With her name, it was respect, but without it, it implied a relationship. She’d let it slide the first time, and it irked her to let it slide again. But he was in too much pain, and he already didn’t want to hear the message she had to deliver. “I’m certain, Frank.”
