The Mistress Files(3)

By: Tiffany Reisz



“I like pissing off Kingsley. You can tell him I did that.”

Sheridan laughed nervously. “I wouldn’t do that. He terrifies me.”

“Sheridan, I have a feeling everything terrifies you.”

Wincing, the girl nodded.

“Look.” The Mistress held out her empty hands and tugged melodramatically at her cuffs. “Nothing up my sleeves. No crops. No canes. No floggers. No knives, whips, or guns. Nothing to be afraid of here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“But...isn’t that what you do?”

“Yes, if that’s what my client wants. Not all my clients are masochists. I’ve got medical fetishists, foot fetishists...I have a college professor who likes to drink human urine. I’ve got a world-famous surgeon who’s into cross-dressing and domestic discipline. I bring him my laundry and order him to iron it while he’s naked but for an apron. I only hurt the ones who want to be hurt. And obviously tonight you don’t want to be hurt. The question is...what do you want?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m here. This is ridiculous. You’re not going to be able to help me, and I’m wasting your time—”

“Slow down there, beautiful. We just got started. First of all, tell me what your problem is, and then we’ll figure out if I can help you or not.”

“Didn’t Kingsley tell you?”

“He told me. I want to hear it from you.”

Sheridan paused and took a deep breath. She tugged at the hem of her dress. Her right foot worried the floor with tapping.

“I can’t...” She took another deeper breath. “I can’t orgasm anymore.”

“Nonsense. You just don’t orgasm. You still can.”

“I haven’t. Not for years. I try. I had a couple boyfriends. Gorgeous boyfriends. Smart, sexy, sweet. Really nice guys. And they tried everything. Not since Rex...” There she stopped, and dropped her head again in shame.

“This was the man you lost your virginity to?”

Sheridan nodded. “I went to a therapist, several therapists. They said he raped me, and that’s why I couldn’t orgasm anymore.”

“You were only fourteen the first time?”

She sighed. “Yeah. I know—”

“Did you tell him no?”

“No. I told him yes. He asked and I said ‘yes.’ I had a huge crush on him. I didn’t want to tell him no.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have asked. And technically it was statutory rape. But if you enjoyed it—”

“I didn’t enjoy it. I loved it.” The girl said loved with vehemence and passion, and for the first time since meeting Sheridan, The Mistress felt like she had could see the real Sheridan lurking under all that fear and shame. “I loved it. And I loved him.”

“You know our Kingsley lost his virginity at thirteen—tops. Older girl. That wicked Frenchman was a lady-killer from birth. He tells the story of his first time and he gets congratulated like he won the fucking lottery. A woman says she lost her virginity at a young age to an older guy and she gets thrown into therapy. Double standards can suck my cock. Don’t be ashamed that you liked it. You didn’t do anything wrong by saying yes, and you didn’t do anything wrong by liking it. Excuse me, by loving it. The fault, if there is any, is on Rex. Not you. He’ll answer to God for it. You can answer to me.”

At that Sheridan burst into laughter—real laughter, not the nervous kind.

“Thank you. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t have a cock, by the way. Not a real one. I have a pretty impressive assortment of the artificial variety back at the club. I thought for our first session we’d stick to the basics.”

“The basics?”

The Mistress held up both hands and wiggled her fingers. Sheridan blushed.

“The basics. I get it.”

“Good girl. Now you say the guys you’ve been with since Rex tried everything. I assume you mean oral sex, digital stimulation, vaginal intercourse...”

Sheridan nodded, her face still a becoming shade of pale red.

“Did they try vibrators?”

“One did. But I couldn’t relax enough.”

“Can you have them on your own?”

“Sometimes, but only if I’m fantasizing about Rex and stuff we did. It’s just...depressing. I don’t even miss him. I just miss...it. Whatever it was.”

The Mistress sat back, threw her legs onto the settee and crossed her feet, clad in black and white Oxfords, at the ankles.

“I’m depressed just hearing about it. We’ve got to get you back in business. Take your clothes off.”

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