Caught in HER Web – a story of Serious FinDom

During my early career as a Professional Dominatrix / Mistress, I also had a texting set-up for those who might seek my professional attentions but who were too remote to attend physically. This was a very successful part of my professional offerings. This story is based around that set-up. Obviously, certain aspects have been played up for dramatic purposes, but the system which entraps the unfortunate ((or fortunate?) Roger was very similar to my own.

Amazon Description:

Roger believed in compartments. There was the office, where he was the well-liked boss; there was the family, where he was the doting husband and father; there was the golf club, where he was jack the lad, still, and good company.

All of these gave him a life that was almost completely fulfilling…

But there was another compartment; a secret compartment that was entirely sealed off from the others, a place that he went to when no one was looking. This was a place where he could be the person he hid away, the person with the most lurid of needs.

This was the place where he grovelled to a woman he referred to as ‘Mistress’. There she owned him, controlled him, exploited him. This made his life complete.

That was fine for a long time, Roger believed in compartments.

The trouble was, Mistress Dee didn’t….

Extract:

It was a sun-filled Friday morning in late July. For Roger there was always something special about the last day of the week. People seemed in a better mood, there was less of the early morning ‘grump’ factor. The weekend beckoned invitingly; Saturday would be an early morning round of golf followed by a trip down the river on the boat with Lizzy for a drink and then onto a leisurely lunch. Abigail was bringing her new boyfriend home for dinner on Sunday, and then with any luck he might even get to watch the TV football. He had earned a soft weekend. The last months had been stressful with the Blythe-Gwynne contract. Now that was all signed off – or it would be this morning – it was time to enjoy the feeling that the business was heading for its best profits in ten years.

The phone – the one which never left his office – trilled quietly with the arrival of a new text, the one that would change his life. His stomach tightened, anticipating the pleasure that text would bring him. He instinctively reached for it only to pull back his hand. He wanted to savour the thought of her, the sweetest form of anticipation.

He glanced across the open office. This was his kingdom, his domain. He had built-it up over the years; his staff were like a family to him. They shared in the highs and the lows, made a good team, and all contributed to what – everyone agreed – was a great working environment. His own corner was glass partitioned which gave him some privacy for meetings, but he liked the door to be open. He liked to be at one with ‘the team.’

He felt he had somehow ‘collected’ them all over the years, and now they had a perfect balance of experience, talent and personality.  Bringing in architects, interior designers, landscapers and logistics experts under one roof had been his vision, and the success of this last contract had proved him right. Each one had their own compartmentalised expertise; each one was a good fit in the whole. Roger believed in compartments.

Life was good, and until he picked up his phone he felt it could only get better.

He reached for the phone. An action that he would always remember as the moment it all changed.

‘I can see you right now. Nice tie by the way; better than the shit one yesterday. Present from the wife was it?’

Everything around him faded as he stared at the screen, the blood in his veins turning to ice; his stomach falling through inner-space. He placed the phone back on the desk, and withdrew his hands back onto his lap so that the rest of the office couldn’t see them tremble.

Surely not. It wasn’t possible, not feasible.

I can see you right now…

Suddenly there seemed to be no air in the room, he found it difficult to just pull in breath, his chest ached with the strain. His throat hurt. It felt claustrophobic, his heart racing. Unthinkable. Just unthinkable.

I can see you right now…Nice tie…

This could not be happening, surely it was a bluff. Had to be; it couldn’t be otherwise. She just wanted to scare him, give him an early morning shock. There was no way this woman…this woman operating the text-service could see him. The whole notion was ridiculous if he really thought about it. It would mean she was an employee, one of the team…he lifted his head and surveyed the office…there were four women there, all of them seemingly occupied by various tasks. It was inconceivable that this could be one of them.

Nice tie…

But he had gone for the brighter coloured one today. The one his daughter Abigail had given him for his fiftieth birthday last month. Well, it was Friday, so why not? Dress-Down Friday and all that; show a little personality. It was a small enough concession to informality but he had to set the example.

And that was when the alarm bell clanging in his head stilled to just an echo. Blood started to move again in his veins. Of course she couldn’t see him. What had he been thinking? It was all quite impossible. But still she had him going for a time. It was a good intuitive guess though, the kind of fright he was increasingly becoming addicted to, in thrall even against his own better judgement.

Dress-Down Friday! She knew enough of his work situation and about him to predict the brightly coloured tie. She really was very good this one, a cut above. By some distance the best in a long line of text-Mistresses. She always played it like it was real. Good guess.

He stared out through the plate glass window across the adjacent fields. The sun casting a haze over the distant hills. He spotted a kestrel high in the sky, its wings fluttering, steadying itself, still in the wind.

And then he had a text, this time on his other phone.

‘You see, not only can I see you, I can even text on your main phone, not just the one you keep in the draw and never take home. How are Lizzy and Abigail by the way?’

In that instant his world froze. Everything stopped. Time stretched out, slowed down, his mind raced. He ran through all the precautions he had so carefully taken. This could not be happening. The text service only had the mobile number of his secret phone, and that phone never left his person when at work or the locked draw of his office when he left.

The women he had been texting for the past twenty-nine months apparently lived a hundred and forty miles away, but even if that was a lie, there was just no way could she be here in the office. He knew the four women in the office, had known them all for at least thirteen months and in the case of Melanie eleven years. She just couldn’t be one of those; he would just know…there would have been some sign some giveaway. Women like that were of a different order, it would be too obvious.

The very thought of it being one of his trusted employees was…well, it would mean that she would know him, the real him, know all of his most disgusting fantasies and desires. Would know that he was nothing like the person he pretended to be….that he was, in fact, the most sordid and seedy kind of sexual pervert. That pervert he came vacuum-sealed off in a separate compartment from his main life….

It didn’t bear thinking about.

But then it was indisputable that this was the woman he had been texting, and she also knew his ‘real’ number, had seen his tie and knew the real names of his wife and daughter. Then he remembered that he had given her the names himself quite some time ago. It was part of the thrill to walk a dangerous tightrope…while still knowing that anonymity gave him the best kind of safety-net.

But his real number? How?

He texted back. ‘Who are you? Is this Mistress Dee?’

He swallowed hard. This was the nightmare; the two sides of his life he so carefully and painstakingly kept apart were somehow together… He stared at his phone as if it had become radioactive, which in a sense, it had. Another text flashed up.

‘Of course I am you fucking arsehole. And don’t reply here, reply on the other phone, the one where you pay.’

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Cruella Pain

I am an author of books with strong and explicit Female Domination themes.

I am a Dominatrix / Mistress. I am a bitch.

I live in the Chester area. Note, I do NOT have an Amazon Wishlist.

So Amazon vouchers ONLY accepted, from those devotees seeking to please.

( To Cruella.Pain@gmail.com )