"A D/s Fairy Tale 1&2"( MF FF F-dom fant )[1/7]
Prologue - Once Upon a Time

Once upon a Time, in a land not too far away, there lived a
princess who was so beautiful, that all of the lords (and some of
the ladies) of the realm wanted and desired her.  It is on this
key point, however, that any further resemblance to those other
wimpish, milksop fairy tale princesses ends abruptly.  This
princess was no sweetly submissive, self effacing young lady,
content to idle away her days at her embroidery or to sleep away
her nights dreaming, all the while waiting patiently for her one
true prince (or princess).  Not *this* princess.  She was
definitely *not* Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty.  This princess
was forthright, direct, knew exactly what she wanted and was not
at all shy about doing whatever was required to obtain what she
wanted.

Her Grand Vizier discovered these characteristics for himself
after the passing of her father, the King. Since there was no
male issue to continue the line, the chief advisor foolishly
suggested to Her Royal Highness that it was her duty to contract
an immediate marriage to a suitably royal, suitably *male*
prince.  Obviously, he contended, the kingdom could not possibly
survive without a strong, *male* ruler.

The Vizier made this grave error in judgement only once.  He had
not become the second most powerful and influential man in the
kingdom by being completely stupid nor without having developed a
strong instinct for keeping his own skin intact.  The princess
assumed the scepter of power in her own right and the kingdom (or
perhaps more correctly, the princess-dom) prospered under her
enlightened, if somewhat autocratic and despotic, rule.

And the princess most definitely was both a despot and an
autocrat.  She was also demanding, strict, arrogant and (if
somewhat justifiably based on her beauty and her accomplishments)
proud.  In spite of these well known foibles, she was still
sought out and pursued by many suitors for her hand (and/or her
other parts) because she was so incredibly beautiful. She also
had the almost uncanny ability to sense what people around her
were feeling, a faculty she often used to defuse even the tensest
of interactions.  She also had a very loving heart, and even when
she was at her most demanding and her most severe, her subjects
knew she loved them.  In return, they loved her, and gave her
their loyalty and their trust.

It is at this point in our story, that once again, we must
diverge from the run of the mill fairy tale. Our princess did not
meet her knight in shining armor, fall in love, get married and
live happily ever after.  Sadly, our princess came to the
attention of a powerful, evil sorceress, named Ennui.  Ennui saw
how much the people loved the princess and became terribly
jealous.  She cursed the princess with a terrible curse,
enclosing her in a fog, a shroud of insensibility that nothing
could pierce and that ultimately created a wall of ice about the
princess' loving heart.

The cursed princess fought the overwhelming boredom by seeking
greater and greater thrills, regardless of the risk or of the
hurt she caused to those who loved her.  Gradually, even those
closest to her were wounded by her apathy and indifference to
anything other than her search for relief.  Slowly, inexorably,
the people lost trust in their still beloved princess.

One day, the princess nearly struck down the prince who had
become the people's last hope, the one they were counting on to
save their princess with his kiss.  This was the final straw. 
The people all but lost hope, convinced that nothing would ever
save them or their princess.  

It was at this moment that a stranger appeared in the land.  The
stranger saw the evil the princess had wrought and decided that
she must be punished.  The stranger, who was in truth a mighty
wizard, made his way to the castle to meet, to vanquish, to judge
and ultimately, to punish the wayward and uncaring princess.

And thus it came to pass. . . .

Chapter 1: The Curse of Ennui; The Curse of Boredom

Christiana Jamison awoke as the first, cold rays of light lanced
through the gauzy curtains of her penthouse suite.  Languidly,
she stretched before sliding out of her bed to pad across the
thickly carpeted floor and stand in front of the east facing
french doors.

The December sunrise over the Boston Skyline was glorious as
Sol's fiery leading edge peaked over the top of the Prudential
Building.  A rainbow halo of jewel-bright color blazed off the
dusting of fresh, newly fallen snow, and dueled with winter
night's darkness in the daily fight-to-the-death that ended in
dawn's victory.

Christiana sighed as, once again, hope died.  So often in the
past, this morning spectacle had energized her, had filled her
with wonder and determination, and had started off another day of
discovery and challenge.  Now, dawn simply happened and she felt
nothing except disappointment - disappointment and the
inescapable boredom that had become her constant companion.

Maybe too much had come to her too quickly and too easily.  She
knew that she was considered beautiful.  She was tall, auburn
haired and leggy.  Her slender figure looked good whether she was
dressed or undressed. Her personal opinion was that her face was
interesting, or at best, handsome.  Her nose was a bit long, and
her eyes were startlingly blue instead of the redhead's classic
green eyes.  Her mouth was too large, her lips a bit too full for
the slender outline of her face.  Her legs were good, but her
bosom, though shapely, was on the small side.  Still, for all the
faults she saw in her looks, men thought she was beautiful and
they wanted her.  So did other women, for that matter.

She was very intelligent - brilliant, in fact.  After her
father's death, she had taken over her his company, she had built
the family's comfortable fortune into a huge one in a few short
years.  Of course, she had been lucky - a couple of big risks had
paid off - but she preferred to say that she had seen those
opportunities and she had grabbed them.  And she had won.  

Now, she was considering selling her company to a large
multinational because the daily wheeling and dealing of business
was starting to bore her.  Uncle Samuel, the Chairman of the
Board of her company, was not best pleased with her plan of
selling off her interest, but then, Uncle Samuel was rarely
pleased with her. 

He had not been pleased with her since the day she had used the
stock she'd inherited from her father to take over the company
instead of marrying Samuel's hand picked heir to the presidency. 
That the hand picked "golden boy" had been caught embezzling, and
worst of all, that Christiana had been the one who had caught
him, had only served to make a bad situation between the two of
them worse.  On more than one occasion, he had tried to get the
Board of Directors to remove her as President and CEO, but it was
hard to argue with her success and in each case, Samuel had lost. 
Still, she was bloody tired of Uncle Samuel and his foolish
games.  Even symbolically thumbing her nose at her father's long
time second in command failed to spark her interest any more.

The only reason she hesitated to finalize the sale was the effect
the turnover would have on her people.  In truth, she cared
deeply about the employees, particularly the ones who had been
with the company for ages, and who had helped her build it into
the acknowledged leader in its field.  The corporation that
wanted to buy her company had a reputation of gutting new
acquisitions and leaving nothing behind but crumbs.  They wanted
her patents and her customers, not her employees.  She certainly
did not need the money the buyer offered and it was not as if she
had something better to do than run the company for a while
longer.

She needed diversion, challenge, excitement - and she wasn't
getting any of those things in her current life. 

A knock sounded at her door and she called out, "Enter."  It was
Molly, her personal assistant cum hand maiden.  She carried in a
tray of coffee and pastry in her hands, but had her ever present
day planner tucked under her elbow.

Quietly and efficiently, Molly poured coffee and then served a
cup of the hot, fragrant brew to Chris.  Christiana sipped.  It
was perfect, as always.  She almost wished it wasn't - that would
have been different, at least.  Molly did not notice Christiana's
grimace and sat down to go over the day's appointments.  "You
have a phone call from London set for ten - they want to try and
sweeten the pot for the buyout offer."  She looked up at
Christiana, still staring out the windows at the Boston skyline. 
"Are you going to accept, Chris?"  

Chris turned to face her friend and confidante.  Finally, she
shook her head.  "No, too many people would be hurt by it.  I
will make them understand that the company is not for sale. 
Since I own more than fifty percent of the stock, that will be
that.  They know they can't do anything if I can block them all
by myself."

Molly nodded.  "Okay, you have a staff meeting at nine, a working
lunch with the advertising staff at eleven, and an appointment
with your accountant at one."

"You can cancel the accountant - that was in case I decided to
sell."  Molly made a quick, efficient note.  Chris smiled at that
- everything about Molly was quick and efficient.

"Got it.  And..."  Molly's voice trailed off and she looked at
Chris longingly.  Chris said nothing and Molly sighed.  "You have
a get together at two with Mr. Luthor."  

Chris now understood the sigh.  Adrian Luthor was coming here for
a 'scene', to play with Chris' alter ego, the Mistress
Christiana, and Molly, her friend, confidante and employee, was
also the Mistress Christiana's first and favorite submissive.  It
had been several weeks since Chris had worked slave molly. 
Evidently the little darling was hungry.  

Chris eyed Molly's dress and smiled.  The blue power suit was one
Molly had purchased after Chris had helped her friend overcome a
terrible fashion sense about what looked best on her cute, but
petite body.  The skirt was a few inches shorter than knee length
and was designed to show off legs made shapely by the nightly
aerobic dance sessions Mistress Christiana had ordered.  Perfect,
she thought.

Chris strode over to her walk-in closet and returned; her hands
filled with a wadded tangle of filmy silk and satin which she
deposited on top of Molly's open day planner.  "Go into the
bathroom, pet." she said using Molly's scene name.  "Take off
that ugly pantyhose, then bring them and your panties to me after
you put those on for me."

Molly reached for the garter belt and hosiery and then pulled
back her hand, swallowing visibly.  Wide eyed, she looked up at
Chris.  "But .. but, Chris... there aren't any panties."

Chris smirked, pleased at having pulled that response out of her
friend, feeding on her anxiety like a starving woman at a feast. 
"No, there aren't.  Now, go do as I told you to do, or don't play
at all, pet."

The hunger and need were starkly clear in Molly's eyes, now.  It
had been so long since Christiana had dominated her, so long
since Molly had been the focus of this incredible woman's
attention and power. She wanted it so badly.  Her heart
fluttering, she slowly stood, picked up the lingerie and headed
to Christiana's luxurious bath room.  She had just reached the
door when Chris called out, "Molly-pet?"  Molly stopped and
turned to meet her Mistress' gaze.  "You questioned me, luv,
after I told you we were in a scene by using your slave name. 
You will have to be punished for that, dear.  So, for starters,
please make sure that you clean shaven everywhere below your chin
when you return."

Chris watched the horror on Molly's face with a combination of
shame and exultation.  Molly's weakness, the part of the game she
enjoyed the least, was humiliation play - particularly
exhibitionistic humiliation.  Part of her atrocious fashion sense
derived from her childhood when she had been overweight.  As a
result, she had a generally poor self image.  She hated drawing
attention to herself.  Public play was very hard for her, but she
had never made it a negotiated limit in her submission to the
Mistress Christiana.  "Yes, pet, I mean 'down there', too. 
Besides, that cute, pink skin of yours will be less noticeable
than those lovely, lush dark curls - as long as you don't flash
anyone.  Now, go see to it while I finish my breakfast."

Molly looked slightly ill as she walked, droop-shouldered, into
the bath and closed the door.  The shame Chris had felt earlier,
bloomed and grew until she knew that she would not, could not
force her friend to expose herself that way.  That would be going
too far.  Molly would not be forced to flash her cute little
butt, but Chris would not relent on the panties.  The little love
had become too demanding in her scening with Mistress Christiana
- always wanting her to play out Molly's little fantasies to the
exclusion of what Chris might want to do with Molly in a scene. 
Chris recalled how upset she had been when Molly had refused to
join Chris at a play party hosted by one of the local BDSM
groups.  Chris had repeatedly promised Molly that she would not
have to do anything other than stand or kneel beside her Mistress
and look submissively lovely, but Molly had steadfastly refused
her request.

Chris came up short for a moment.  How long ago had that been? 
Over three weeks.  Had she failed to play with her friend in all
that time because, subconsciously, she was punishing Molly for
failing to go along with something Chris knew Molly feared? 
Because she had denied Chris that rush?  Was that why she was
driving the girl to do this today?  Had Molly seen their lengthy
abstinence in that light, too?   Was that why she was going along
with this scene without using her code word?  Molly had wanted to
use it - that had been obvious to Chris.  Was Chris that far
gone?
  
As if in answer to her unspoken question, Eric's face flashed in
her mind and her eyes closed tightly against the pain of that
memory.

Chris shook herself to release the emotion and then went into the
closet to pick her own outfit for the day.  She selected a suit
that fit her much as Molly's fit her, and identical lingerie. 
Thus armed, she strode into the bath to make up with her friend
while keeping the scene going for Molly's sake.  Once a scene
started, backing off would hurt Molly's feelings, even if she was
quivering in her panties, assuming she still had them on.

Molly was already undressed when Chris surprised her by joining
her in the bath.  The negative emotion was dispelled as Chris
turned it into a shared shower during which each shaved the
other, although Chris kept her mons intact.  "I am the Mistress,
pet." was her answer when Molly had asked her why.  She had ended
the little session by having Molly seat herself on the toilet and
masturbate herself to several climaxes with various implements,
including the toothbrush Chris later ordered Molly to use for its
intended purpose.

The knowledge that Chris was as exposed beneath her skirts as she
was beneath her own calmed Molly's anxieties enough that she
started to enjoy the secret of being 'bare down there'.  Her
skirt was long enough (barely) that, provided she sat in a lady
like manner, no one else would know.  Chris, naturally, ordered
Molly to display her bare charms several times during the day,
but only when they were alone, although once the office door had
been unlocked and the secretary's sudden arrival had been a near
thing.  Even that had near miss only added to the day's
excitement.  

Although she truly intended Molly to have a wonderful submissive
experience this time, Chris did not think Molly should have it
*too* easy.  Once she saw that Molly relax and begin to get a
little more comfortable, Chris had zapped her.  She ordered Molly
to come over to stand by her desk, turn around so that her back
was to Chris and then bend over at the waist with her legs spread
and knees locked.  A draft wafted across Molly's heated pubis as
her skirts had been flipped up over her back.  An inquisitive
finger had played across the baby-soft lips of Molly's newly
shaven puss.  "Excited, aren't we, pet?  Why, if I had let you
wear your panties, they'd be sopping wet."  The finger moved and
began gently tickling at her clit, making Molly moan with
frustrated pleasure.  "Let's see if we can slow you down to a
mere simmer, shall we?"  

Molly had little time to wonder what her Mistress had meant by
that because something pinched her clit - hard - then just stayed
there.  Only her previous training with Chris, and yes, her
trepidation over her friend's recent behavior, stopped her from
reaching down to soothe away that sting with her own hands.  Her
skirts were pulled down and her bottom was patted.  "I hope for
your sake, pet, that my little gift is still there when we get
back to the apartment this afternoon.  I would walk very
carefully if I were you, darling."

Molly walked very carefully after that, partly because once the
pinch sensation subsided, every step had been a rough, teasing
caress that pushed her ever closer to a humiliatingly public
climax. Going up and down stairs drove her crazy.  

Chris had teasingly berated her "pokiness" for the remainder of
the morning, but when they finally returned to the apartment, the
"gift" was still there.  A small pinch clip, the type used to
hold small bundles of paper together, held fast to the head of
Molly's bright red clit.  Only the apartment's sound proofing
kept security from answering Molly's scream when Chris had
snatched the little devil off her.

Chris had spent the remainder of the time she had before Adrian
Luthor arrived, cuddling the little brunette and praising her
courage.  "There is only one thing, love.  Your panties?  I hid
them in your office.  You have the rest of the day off, and you
have a choice.  Go find them, or go home and get a new pair.  Of
course, you will have to take the bus home."  Molly blushed, but
allowed as how she would take the opportunity to go home early.

Chris thought about the morning's play with Molly while she
dressed for Mr. Luthor's visit.  Molly's scene had not been so
bad - Chris had even gotten a little charge out of it.  That was
a first in recent months.  Certainly it was the first time she
had been entertained by a scene that had not pushed a sub over. 
It was probably because she honestly loved little Molly that she
had relented on her first inclination which was to expose the
darling's gorgeous butt to some stranger.  Certainly, that would
not have exceeded any *negotiated* limit, but it would have
exceeded a limit none-the-less.  And Molly would have been hurt. 
Hurt as so many of her submissive friends had been hurt recently;
hurt by her.

Pushing her submissives that way had become one of Christiana's
few solutions to the overwhelming boredom that crushed her. 
Ignoring a submissive's primary favorite games and styles of play
was another ploy she'd adopted, while forcing them to play other
games, other styles, which were for that submissive less
pleasant.  More and more often, she was getting her increasingly
limited amusements by pushing her subs up to and beyond their
limits.  In fact, she specifically pushed buttons that did not
"make it" for her playmate of the moment. Sensation players she
would verbally abused; bondage players were publicly humiliated;
service players got thrashed.  When a playmate broke, and
recently, that had become a goal she admitted at least to
herself, she'd set them aside with some scathing commentary on
their inadequacies.  

Finally, there was Eric. Oh god, what she had done to poor Eric. 
She could hardly bear to think about it, but she would have to
think about it.  Think about it, and do something to make it up
to him, God only knew how. Maybe, just maybe, she had learned
something today with Molly.  

She would have to think that through more thoroughly very soon,
but in the meantime, she had a scene with Mr. Luthor that was
going to be very different from the one she had originally
planned for this afternoon's play.  

She'd learned a lot about Adrian while playing with this large,
powerful and very masculine male.  He was into bondage, and he
liked being teased.  He handled humiliation play fairly well, but
he didn't like corporal play at all - *period*.  Still, he'd
never made it a limit.  Christiana's plan for this afternoon had
involved using her crop, cane and strap to take him to the edge. 
Ultimately, she had planned to take him to his safeword, to force
him to ask her to stop the scene.  At least, that *had* been her
plan.

Well, she wasn't going to do it - not after what she had just
learned with Molly.  Even if she did not get a rush from it, she
would play right to his fetishes and try to enjoy his pleasure. 

Chapter 2: The Wizard's Scene; The Princess in Charge

At first or second glance, the room looked like a home gymnasium
built by and for someone with a whole lot of money, which is
exactly what it was.  Chris had set aside an entire 20' x 20'
room in her penthouse suite and filled it with specially
selected, specially modified exercise equipment that she used on
a daily basis to keep trim and to combat stress.

There were other times, however, that the room became a
soundproofed, eerily lighted dungeon, Mistress Christiana's Dun-
Gym.  During these times, the exercise equipment was transformed
into implements of sexual 'torture' and erotic restraint that
Torquemada might have recognized and approved.

Before it had been modified by some scene friendly craftsman, the
device Mr. Luthor was lying on had been a normal, adjustable
height pommel or vaulting horse.  The addition of a few hidden
restraints, and special legs that were adjustable from anywhere
from two feet to eight feet off the floor, changed it into a
particularly effective piece of bondage gear.  Adrian was face
down, lengthwise over the apparatus, with his legs and arms tied
to the floor and spread apart.  The horse was adjusted so that he
was bent comfortably at the waist with the leather cushion taking
most of his weight. She had elected to restrain him this way
because it was comfortable.  She'd wanted to be able to keep him
in that position for an extended period of time without having to
worry about his blood circulation or about straining his muscles.
A large ball gag overfilling  his mouth completed his restraints.

Chris watched her tied submissive carefully, especially his right
hand where he held the bell that he could use to signal his safe
word while she denied him the power of speech with a gag.  

He was rampantly, beautifully, painfully erect.  Well, he should
be hard, she thought with some self satisfaction.  She had been
teasing him steadily, mercilessly, since putting him on the horse
over an hour ago.  She smiled to herself - she had him so turned
on he'd probably try to fuck a knot hole in a piece of unsanded
lumber if she showed him one.  Chris let the ostrich plume glide
up his sweat-slick flanks, across his scrotum and then back down
the other side.  He shivered beautifully, and his cock spasmed
yet one more time against the tightly buckled cock ring she had
put on him earlier.

He really was a lovely man.  She did not know if she was enjoying
this scenario as much as she would have the one she originally
planned for him. She truly enjoyed wielding a whip, but this game
was pretty good, too.  She certainly wasn't bored.   

Adrian groaned again as she ran the tip of the feather up and
down the under seam of his cock.  "Awwww, does poor baby wanna
cum?" she twilled sweetly.  His muffled response was
inarticulately affirmative.  She began to gently brush the plume
up and down his rigid length, more seriously than before, while
her free hand teased the tight grommet of his anus.  Unlike other
men who had submitted to her, Adrian rather liked ass play.  He
was particularly enjoying it now, for he tried rear backward to
meet Christiana's gently thrusting finger.  Without warning, he
began to surge violently, pumping his groin into the air, trying
to maximize the contact of his cock with the illusive feather and
trying to escape the stifling grip of the cock ring.

Suddenly, his body went completely still, every muscle bulging in
stasis.  His anal ring gripped fiercely at her finger.  Chris
dropped the feather and hastily stripped off the cock ring.
Taking his erection firmly in hand, she pumped once, twice... 

She did not get through a third time before he bellowed into the
gag and nearly came off the horse.  The leather restraints
creaked in agony as they fought his muscular contractions. 
Thick, hot semen spewed over her hand and onto the floor.  Chris
was awed by the power of his orgasm - awed and quietly pleased
that *she* had been the one to give him that much pleasure.  That
*she* had demanded that kind of response from him and that he had
given it to her.  Maybe that was what had been missing, after
all.

Adrian sagged weakly against the horse, panting heavily long
after his climax had subsided.  Chris gently withdrew her finger
from his ass and moved to face him.  She put out a hand to stroke
a lock of sweaty hair out of his face when his eyes locked on
hers.

Suddenly, the world started to swirl drunkenly about her.