Poetbdsm

Part 1 Ma’am hated interruptions and inappropriate behavior. If you go to the theater, She reasoned, you should be prepared to be silent, as a courtesy to others. You shouldn’t cough. You shouldn’t let your cell phone ring, you shouldn’t crinkle the wrapping on a throat lozenge when you open it. In short, be still and let the audience – Ma’am foremost among them – focus on the program. Unfortunately, one of Ma’am’s dearest associates was a distinct fidget monger. Discipline Slave R seemingly couldn’t help but cough, whistle, hum, and make all manner of noises (unheard by him, of course) as he shuffled in his seat, smacked his lips and otherwise disrupted good old peace and quiet. Ma’am was quite prepared to handle this matter in a way mutually beneficial – or at least, very beneficial to Her and at least slightly beneficial to him. ...

[Author’s note: I wrote this in honor of a real-life leather domme who has worked in the fashion industry. I do not vouch for all the details of how fashion shows work. If there are any errors, they are in my mind. The dining “box” is something I’ve actually seen, in a restaurant that was designed to evoke Renaissance England. I’ve just put that to good use here.] Duarte fingered the rim of his wine glass nervously. Even though he sat in his favorite restaurant, he was uncomfortable. That was because was not sitting in the booth up front where he usually held court. Instead, he was parked in Lana’s special dining box. It was a free-standling wooden box about seven feet high, just big enough to hold the dining table for two that Duarte, for the moment, occupied all by himself. Even though it was coming up on 2 a.m., Lana was late, as usual. She certainly knew how to milk an entrance. And, no doubt, a man. ...