jerrys-intro mf, fdom, tv My name is Beverly K. My clients call me "Mistress." I support myself, quite well I think, by taking men and women in to areas of their minds they usually only visit when they are alone. I actually create the scenes and moods they only fantasize. I specialize in psycho-dramas where my subject can actually see, hear, feel, touch, and taste the leather, silks, satins, whips, ropes, and dominant woman who has controlled their psyche, through their fantasies, for their adult life. Some people would categorize my clients as masochists--obtaining sexual gratification through the receipt of pain. Some of them are, but I don't work with people whose primary goal is to be hurt. I have a few whips, but they are largely for show. "If you don't do exactly what I tell you, I'll cane your ass." No, I specialize in helping these people live out whatever fantasy they may have developed wherein they are "forced" to perform some act or action, usually sexual, that someone or something---parents, schools, culture, peers, conventional wisdom---has said is improper. I have guys who wear women's clothes. I have women who can only masturbate when ordered to. I see lots of guys who want to be ordered to do things they would otherwise find demeaning. These men are usually the "boss" of their business, their homes, their families. They are looking for someone else to take over for awhile, have someone else responsible for results. My home is in a large midwestern city. I maintain two large apartments in one building. One I use to entertain clients, the other as personal living quarters. The building owner is one of my clients, and the super knows what's going on. I screen my people closely. I don't make any contact with any client that a court could claim was sexual in nature. Many of my clients are in high places in business and government. I'm invited to the proper social functions, serve on fund-raising committees, and pledge my share of money to charities. What follows is some of the entries I keep on my clients so that I can review details before the next session I have with them. I use only first names and initials for obvious reasons. Don B. left a message on my machine, asking if I was interested in a new client. When I called Don, he said Jerry was a member of his health club. They had known each other for several years. One day Don noticed some obvious chafe marks on Jerry's wrists and ankles. Jerry explained that his girlfriend and he had read about bondage and decided to play some games. The girlfriend had just gotten Jerry's wrists and ankles tied to the four corners of the bed when she panicked at the intensity of the scene, threw on a robe and ran back to her apartment. Of course Jerry's door locked behind her, and she didn't have his key. Jerry needed a couple of hours to get free. His girlfriend was sobbing in her apartment, and said she didn't want to try ropes again. Jerry admitted to Don that he wanted to do it again. Don did not admit he saw me every couple of weeks, but called me as soon as possible. I told Don that a couple of my regulars had been transferred and I had some openings. I told Don to give Jerry my number and maybe we could set something up. Less than twenty minutes passed when my answering machine kicked on. I have it set to answer immediately, so I'm not distracted during a session with a client. The volume is low enough I can usually recognize the voice of whoever calls. The man on the line introduced himself as Jerry M. He said Don had suggested he call me if he was interested in exploring "a mutual topic." Jerry said he wanted some "guidance" and was told I was a strict teacher. He left both a work and home phone. I wanted him to sweat a bit so I didn't call until the following afternoon. After I introduced myself, I asked him if he could talk freely from his office. He said he could, so I asked him to describe himself. He said he was reasonably good looking, divorced, and in his late thirties. I then ask him if he'd ever visited a professional mistress before. He said he'd had a couple of sessions in London where he'd been spanked by a hooker who wanted to do nothing more than flail away. What he really dreamed was for a lengthy session where a dominant woman would order him to do things for her amusement that a "macho guy" would refuse to do. Well, Jerry is just like most of my customers. They just want to be controlled and told what to do. To do humiliating things at the order of an imperious woman satisfies a need to "let go" for a while. Popular literature says guys like this want to be hurt, to experience pain. Some of my clients do, but most just want to experience the humiliation of an extended reversal of male dominance. I liked what Jerry said. I told him we would have to meet for coffee to work out the details of a possible session. We set up a time and place to meet the following afternoon. He agreed to make a list of some of the things he fantasized about. As we were about to hang up, I asked him if he'd like to be feminized. I could here him gulp, and he didn't answer immediately. Without hearing a word from him, I ordered him to show up at the coffee shop wearing a pair of new white nylon panties under his regular clothes. I told him he must buy them between now and then from a female sales woman, and relate to me what was said. I then said I'd find a way to check on how well the panties fit at the coffeehouse tomorrow. I hung up before he could respond. If he didn't show tomorrow, I was out only a little time and wouldn't have to worry about a client who couldn't obey a simple demeaning order. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The next afternoon I arrived a little early at the coffeehouse. I came here often and knew there was a U-shaped booth separated from the rest where we couldn't be overheard, but would be visible by most patrons and some passersby through the window. I've made some guys quite uncomfortable in that booth, but they just have to set there and take it without calling embarrassing attention to themselves. I was dressed very business-like, especially if your business required a leather skirt and vest, with a frilly white blouse. Jerry had told me what he would be wearing, so I recognized him coming through the door. I waved him over and had him slide all the way into the back of the booth. As we ordered, I looked him over and liked what I saw. This could be fun! Before the coffee came, I outlined my basic rules. There would be no intercourse. I know judo and guys who have tried have regretted it. I likened a session as a small free-form play, developing as time went by, where we both acted out a role, me as the order giver and he as my slave. I was an actress, not a hooker. He was not to speak during a session unless so ordered. We would agree to an "escape" word he could use if an activity became too intense and he needed to stop. I told him I expected to be paid well, in advance. A first session would last about three hours. He would likely be ordered to masturbate for me near the end if he performed satisfactorily. I told him I had lots of equipment, but preferred not to use a lot of equipment unless, as the play developed, "props" seemed to be needed. Whether or not we ever met again would depend on our individual reactions to the first session. I've seen some of my clients regularly for years, Others have turned me off so badly I won't return their calls. These are usually the guys who want more pain than I've stomach for. And, frankly, some guys I'd welcome back never call again. The coffee arrived, and while the waitress was pouring, I turned casually to Jerry and asked "Are you wearing your panties?" He gulped and reddened. The waitress paused, trying to figure out what she'd just heard. Jerry looked down and quietly replied "Yes, you said I must and I am." The waitress had heard all she wanted to hear. She smiled at Jerry and left. I asked Jerry to tell me what activities he thought might turn him on. He blushed deeply and pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.."You asked me to make a list. This is really hard to talk about because many of these things would be very humiliating if anyone else found out about them. But here goes. I picture hearing you telling me to come in through your unlocked door. When I enter, you are not in sight. From another room you order me to lock the entry door, remove all my clothes, fold them neatly, place them on the floor of the hall closet, and secure the closet door with the padlock there in the bolt. "I quickly strip. If you don't care for the sight of male genitalia, you could order me to put on a pair of panties I'd find on a table. You tell me to get on my hands and knees. When you enter the room, I see you are wearing a simple party dress with a full skirt, black shoes with moderate heels, and apparently, no pantyhose on your well-tanned legs. "You're angry--because I'd dared to look up at you. You put a collar and leash on me, then order me to do a lot of demeaning tasks. I clean your bathroom, hand wash some lingerie, and make your tea, all the while on my hands and knees. While you are sitting in your chair, enjoying your tea, I buff your toe nails and apply red polish. You order me to do my own toe nails, and put polish on the little finger of my left hand. How can I keep that hidden at the office tomorrow? What gets it off? "I am told to go sit on the floor, my back against the wall under a large shuttered window. My neck is about sill high. You tie my hands to a couple of eye-bolts in the wall at floor level. You blindfold me. I hear you approach, your skirt rustling. You straddle my legs, and I feel the fabric of your skirt being placed over my head. Your thighs brush my cheeks and I catch the fragrance of your sex. "I lean forward slightly, and my lips brush the silkiness of your panties. You softly order me to-----------!" "Jerry, that's enough for now," I said. "I think we can make arrangements for real a session, and maybe turn some of your fantasies into realities. "Are you really wearing panties right now?" Jerry nodded, and his face reddened. "Come with me!" I ordered, and slid out of the booth. I told Jerry to leave enough money on the table to cover the coffee and a healthy tip. I headed back toward the rest rooms, with Jerry closely following. The ladies room door pushed open. I grabbed Jerry's arm and propelled him inside, me right behind. I knew the restroom was small and the only lock was on the outside door, so that if anyone had been using the facilities, the door would be locked. Once inside, I locked the door. Jerry looked scared, but remained quietly standing, facing me in front of the wash basin. "O.K.," I said, "let me see your cute butt in panties." Jerry turned around and fumbled with his belt, then his jeans dropped to the floor. Sure enough, there was a pair of male buns covered with a pair of plain, silky white briefs. My hand stroked the fabric. It felt like ordinary nylon fabric "Next time, I want bikinis with lace!" I growled. I looked over his shoulder and could see his red face in the mirror. Looking down I could see the reflection of a large white nylon-covered bulge between the top of his thighs. There was a small wet circle where the bulge protruded furthest. "Tell me where and how you bought these." "I went to a discount variety store," Jerry said softly. "There were several things I needed, so I got a cart for everything. I finally found the lingerie section. Most of the panties were in plastic packages, three or so to a package. Then I realized I'd have to pick a size. The packages mentioned using hip size as find the right fit. Hell, guys don't know what their hip size is. So I picked a package with a hip size a little bigger than my waist. But they sure are tight." It was tight, I could see. Jerry's cock and balls were pressed tightly against his body. "What size are they? I asked. "I don't remember--it didn't seem important," he moaned. I ordered him to pull the panties down until he could find the size tag, then tell me. He groaned, but his hands were already at the waist, rolling down the top band. "This little tag says 'Size 6'" he said after the little tab became visible on his right hip. The waistband and side seams had left marks on his body. "O.K. Jerry, you can pull them back up now," I said. "Did anyone say anything at checkout?" "No. You ordered me to check out with female cashier. She checked the rest of my stuff and got to the package of panties last. When she saw what they were, she sort of looked around to see if anyone was with me, then simply keyed in the price and told me what the total was. I quickly paid and left." "Well Jerry, you took the easy way out. I want you to try harder. Tonight, on your way home, I want you to stop at a lingerie store. Tell a lady sales woman you want to see a selection of lacy high-thigh nylon briefs, in size 7. That should fit you better. Select one and hold it up to your waist while she's watching you. Buy one--a good one--at least ten dollars. Take them home. Wear them to bed tonight, with nothing else on. Keep 'em on until morning. You can touch yourself through the nylon while they're on, but DON"T CUM! Call me tomorrow night at seven and maybe we can set up a full session later this week." I brushed his panty-clad ass again and noted the wet spot had gotten larger where it covered the tip of his compressed cock. "Pull up your Levis and let's get out of here." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I had a late afternoon session the next day with Henry, my little French maid. He's one of my easiest clients. All he wants to do is pay to be my housekeeper. Our story-line was he'd try as hard as he could to cook and clean, and I would never be satisfied. More on Henry later, but this afternoon he cleaned my apartment, then drew me a bubble-bath. As I soaked, he prepared a perfect dinner for me. I ate well, with a little fine wine. Henry and I finished our session, and by 7:00 P.M. I was quite relaxed and a little aroused. I wanted to hear Jerry's story. When the phone rang, I turned down the stereo and picked up the receiver. It was Jerry. We chatted for a few minutes, then Jerry said he'd had an interesting experience last night at the lingerie store. He said he asked to see a selection of panties in size 7. The sales woman, a young woman about thirty, asked about style fabric, and color. Jerry remembered something about "high-cut" and said he wasn't sure about color and material. The sales woman pulled out a drawer with about two dozen pair neatly laid out. Jerry was getting nervous. He picked up a pair, beige with a wide band of lace at the waist. "These are just fine," he said. He remembered I would ask if he'd modeled the panties. When the sales woman turned away to return the drawer to its place, he quickly held the waistband to his belt, then put the panties on the counter. Jerry was sure she seen him. So, when she asked "Are they for you?" Jerry could only nod and gulp. The sales woman looked him right in the eye and crisply said "I want you to try them on right now. We need to be sure our customers are satisfied. There is a dressing room behind that mirror. If you want, I can come back there and measure your hips so we are sure you are correctly fitted." Jerry was about ready to abandon everything and run, but then remembered what the consequences might be if he didn't fulfill my orders. He quickly moved to the back of the store where a door opened to a small room with a couple of mirrors on adjacent walls. Jerry took off his shoes and pants. He was still wearing the panties I'd ordered him into earlier that day. He worked them off and felt the relief as his cock and balls were allowed to hang free. He slipped on the new pair. The silky fabric felt cool as it slid up his thighs. "This is much better," Jerry thought. "There is more room for my legs and the fit is not nearly as tight." Jerry heard the sales woman outside. "How are you doing? Those should fit quite well. May I come in?" Before Jerry could stammer an answer, the door opened and the sales woman entered. "Turn around and let me see," she ordered. Oh yes, those are just fine, she said, eyeing Jerry's groin closely. "Do you want to wear them home?" Saying "Yes." seemed the quickest way out of a situation where he was being inspected by a woman while wearing nothing below his waist but a pair of feminine briefs. The sales woman produced a pair of scissors and reached for Jerry's waist. It took him a second to realize she only wanted to remove a couple of tags. "There," she said, "you are ready to get dressed." She then picked up the panties Jerry had worn when he came in. "My, these are unflattering! Do you want them wrapped for you or shall I just throw them away?" "Away, away!" Jerry cried, wwanting to be "away" from this crazy encounter. The sales woman tossed the offending white panties in a waste can. She quickly whipped a tape measure around Jerry's chest and said "When you come out I'll have some padded-cup bras for you to look at, if you're turned on by them also." As she left the dressing room, Jerry was quite flustered. He'd been ordered to simply buy a pair of panties. Now he was wearing them, the sales woman had inspected the fit, and was now trying to fit him for a bra! He finished dressing, and approached the sales woman behind the counter. "No bras, thank you, but I'd like a second pair of those panties. They are really comfortable." Jerry had noticed the cool silky tension they had placed on his lower body. It felt as though a gloved feminine hand was gently compressing his male parts. It was quite pleasant. "I'm sure they are," she said. "We get a lot of guys in here to buy themselves little silky things. They usually say its for a wife or girlfriend, but most of the time they buy what they want and in a size that is just right for them. I have couples come in and buy matching his-and-her sets. You weren't hard to figure out. But I'd guess this is rather a new experience for you. Is it something you've just decided to try, or do you have someone new in your life who is trying to change your life?" Jerry found himself explaining the whole thing to the lingerie sales woman. How I'd ordered him to buy panties earlier, that I'd inspected them a the restaurant earlier that day, and that I'd ordered him here for a more suitable pair. It seemed like an easy story to tell, given what he'd gone through in the last few minutes. "So," the sales lady concludes, "this lady you just met has found what ever it takes to make you possibly look very embarrassed without warning. Believe me, there are a lot of guys like you, hanging on a string from whatever is in your brain that controls your sexuality. The other end of this string is in the hands of a woman like yours. "Never the less," she continued, "many guys are in here just because they like the feel of panties. I don't see how anyone could wear men's briefs. I've tried them on. The material is impossibly coarse and the seams are bulky and stiff. They leave marks wherever they are! And boxer shorts have too much material. If you put anything on over them, they bunch up into lumps of cloth in odd locations. "Of course, panties aren't really tailored to fit a man. But if you buy ones that fit your hips, the waistband will stretch enough, as it has to be big enough to go over the hips easily. And most fabrics are flexible enough to accommodate your cock and balls, although they will be snugly compressed." "By this time," Jerry told me over the phone, "I was really ready to get out of the lingerie shop. The sales lady had picked out another matching pair for me while she talked. She wrapped them in frilly paper and placed them in a bag that had 'Milady's Lingerie' printed on it. She rang a total on the cash register and I paid for them. I thanked her for her help and hurried out the door." "Jerry," I replied, "I'm pleased you thanked her. She was very insightful and I'm sure you learned a lot. Are you still willing to see me professionally?" Jerry said he was eager for more. I explained my rules and fees. He was to address me as "Mistress" if I ordered him to speak. He could say "I'm a wimp." as an escape word if the activity got too intense or painful. We agreed on an evening session two nights hence.