Protecting the Mistress (31b/31) (FemDom, Romance) "But, Gemmmmmmaaa" the name came out in an almost childish three toned whine, "I don't want to top anyone." Gerry repeated for what seemed like the one hundredth time. "I am just getting used to being a lifestyle sub for myself instead of just enduring as a gift for Mistress Mary. I don't need my thinking messed up right now when I am just starting to find my head space." "Sorry, darling, but rules are rules. You've been with us now for over a year, and not once in all that time have you registered as a switch, let alone a dominant." Gemma explained for what seemed to be the one hundred and first time. "Dammit, after what you pulled on me, you owe me, Lady. How about just a little consideration?" "Sorry, my hands are tied by the Cabal bylaws on this one, dear. I really can't cut you any slack, Gerry, and to be frank, I don't really want to. You've been, at my instigation to be true, deeply submerged in the submissive role for almost four months. Okay, so I am happy that you and Mary have made your commitment to one another, but you need to demonstrate the balanced outlooks and understanding the Cabal insists upon in our members." Gemma saw him start to protest one more time, and cut him off with a look. "Wouldn't it be awful to have endured what you went through only to be removed from the membership because you didn't follow the rules?" She said with soft entreaty, taking his hand in her own. "And you know that Mary won't attend if you can't. She's become bloody proprietary and single minded where you are concerned. Hasn't done more than the simplest, most elementary little play scenes with anyone else since she first met you. Talk about love at first sight." He sighed in defeat. "When and who?" he asked. Gemma thoroughly enjoyed the look of dumbfounded consternation when she answered his question. ~----------------~ Mary sat at one of the tables in the Dinner Theater. Alex, Gemma's husband, sat with her while they waited for Gemma to perform the introductions. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the public exhibition of this Change of Role scene for two of our members. In this case, Mistress Freda will be bottoming to one of our more submissively oriented males." The room lights went out and a single spotlight focused on the curtain behind Gemma. Slowly the velvet barrier parted to reveal a nearly nude female figure. Freda stood in the center of the small stage, her hands bound loosely above her head to chain shackles hanging from the ceiling. She couldn't pull her hands below the top of her head, but she wasn't under any real strain, either. Her tall, muscular body was garbed only in a very tight, latex G-string Thong and a pair of moderately tall high heeled shoes, lace gloves . . . and a blindfold. Her long ash-blond hair had been pulled back into a skull hugging ponytail that was in turn, tightly braided. The single, thick rope fell to the small of her bare, tautly muscled back. Gemma slipped into her chair at the table after giving her husband a kiss. "Regardless of what I may have said about her, there isn't anything fat about that arse. A magnificently put together female animal, isn't she?" she whispered. "It is little wonder that some of the hormonally challenged guy-subs fall all over themselves for her." "Like a work of art," Mary agreed. "Just like a statue of white marble and almost as warm and cuddly." That elicited an appreciative chuckle from her two table mates, but Mary herself did not share the joke. She had grave misgivings about this . . . had tried to talk both Gemma and Gerry out of it. She'd even offered to stand as Gerry's bottom herself, but to no avail. "Stop worrying, Mary." Gemma hissed. "Nothing bad is going to happen. Trust me," she paused before continuing, "Hell, trust *him*." Mary's response stuck in her throat as Gerry made his entrance. A couple of the women gave a moue of disappointment when they saw how he had chosen to dress. There was nothing the least bit fetish-like about it, unless you thought unrelieved black was somehow kinky. Black jeans, black work boots, black T-shirt . . . and Gerry. Still, he looked quite good to Mary. "He's got great buns." Gemma pointed out with relish. "Love a man with good buns in tight jeans. Yum." "Hey!" Alex protested. "Don't forget you're the sub this weekend, lady. A little less appreciation of other women's guys and a little more worship of your own, if you please." Mary enjoyed the loving byplay of her two friends, all the more because she saw the same kind of banter growing in her own relationship with Gerry. If only he could get past this last hurdle. ~-------------------~ Gerald stepped up to Freda and simply looked at her. The spotlight flashed glittering highlights on the tightly- defined, perspiration-dampened body. Her lips were pressed tightly together in grim determination. Was that a slight tremor he heard in her breathing? Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. "Freda," he spoke aloud for the first time, "I am going to call you by your given name during this scene. You will, when necessary to speak, refer to me as "Sir". Do you understand?" Some moments pause before she responded, "Yes. . . . Sir." Gerald had expected her to play it this way. He'd spoken with a pair of dominants, one male, one female, who had overseen Freda's previous two mandatory switch scenes. She always did what was ordered, but always as slowly as she thought she could get away with and usually with a certain degree of disdain. "Freda, since you just might need to use it this day, I want you to speak your safe word aloud for me and for the audience." "Bastard," she whispered, "I will never safe word to you. You can't go far enough here at this place to make me safe word." But then she obeyed. "Sir, my safe word is 'baby'." Gerald had personally chosen the safe word, too. At his signal, Dina, in the role of assisting submissive, wheeled out a cart with his chosen tools laid out for him. Then, he stepped right up to Freda and jerked the blindfold off her. It took a moment for her eyes to clear in the sudden, unexpected glare of the single spotlight, but Gerry knew precisely when she recognized who was standing in front of her. "She didn't know." Gemma whispered to Alex and Mary. "She had the right to know who had been assigned to work her, but she didn't even care enough to ask. Wonder if she cares now?" Gemma's face carried a look of supreme self satisfaction. Her off-the-record investigation of Freda had turned up a great deal of information, but nothing she could take to the Council. That did not mean, however, that Gemma was going to let her get way with what she'd done. Justice, she mused, comes in many forms and definitions. The most basic of which, however, starts with "an eye for an eye." Maybe Gerry would appreciate the symbolism with an arse for an arse. She'd have to mention it to him later. "You!" Freda gasped. A moment's fear tickled its way down her spine as she stared into the face of the man she had knowingly denied the most basic protections of the Cabal. "Me." Gerry agreed quietly. He saw and reveled in the panicky fear in her face, and part of him knew he should feel ashamed of that pleasure. And he would be . . . almost ashamed . . . later. Smiling now, Gerry dropped his voice into a whisper. "And I would not be so certain about not needing your safe word, Freda. At least, you will be able to use yours and *I* will honor it." Gerald moved behind her to his toys and picked up a huge bottle of baby oil. He began by filling one cupped hand with the golden-colored fluid before beginning to rub it into Freda's shoulders. That completed, Gerald poured more into his hand and repeated the process between her shoulder blades and down the center of her back. With painstaking, meticulous care, Gerald anointed every square inch of exposed skin from Freda's chin down to her toes. He even rubbed some into the skin exposed by the open- toed heels she wore. He paid particular attention to her breasts, especially her nipples, and to her bottom. By the time he finally set down the bottle, the shimmering light reflecting off Freda's oiled body danced merrily in time to her heaving, panting breaths. Gerald had been careful to arouse Freda with his thorough massage, using skills and techniques he'd developed in serving Mistress Mary's pleasure. From the closed eyes and relaxed, open mouth, he decided that he'd been successful in that goal. Every muscle that had once been taut with tension was now pliantly loose with pleasure. It was time for phase two. Gerald rolled the handcart from behind her to a place where she could see what it held. The relaxation died immediately as she recognized the items he'd chosen to use on her. With the showmanship of a silent movie star, Gerald held up an enema bulb to display to the crowd and to Freda, before he began filling it with the remaining oil. He affixed the nozzle and set that aside. Then he picked up an adult disposable diaper and set that alongside the enema bulb. Laughter rippled throughout the room as everyone recognized his intent. Some even knew what she had done to him and approved of his apparent plan for Freda. The laughter broke away the first chink out of Freda's reserve. They were laughing at *her* and no one EVER laughed at Mistress Freda. Only she wasn't Mistress Freda just then, but she would be again, just as soon as she showed this stupid little man-sub how ineffectual his plans really were. She would get past this. She promised herself. Her resolve lasted only until Gerald pulled out his next implement. He had a cane. One identical to the one she had beaten him with months ago. Gripping it firmly in his right hand, he walked over to stand to her left side and just a bit behind her. She felt the cool, hard rod come to rest gently across the rounded cheeks of her ass. Freda closed her eyes against what she knew was next, but it didn't come. He just held it there, sliding it back and forth across the slick, oily moons. "Ya know," Gerry said conversationally to his audience, "I have never used one of these before, although I do have more than a passing acquaintance with the other side of the thing." With a sudden flick of his wrist, he snapped the rod sharply into the tense ass flesh. "Seems to me, that this is a great time to experiment." A chorus of laughing agreement sounded in response. "Unfortunately, she is clenching on me. Her ass is so hard, she might not even feel it if I gave her my best shot. Well, I did some research about that and found out about something called "figging"." Gerry pulled a plastic sandwich bag out of his pocket and held it up for Freda and his audience to see. "Fresh ginger, carved into the shape of a butt plug." Freda began to fight as Gerald started to slip the burning plug in between her cheeks, but she had no where to go. A squeal of indignant dismay signaled the seating of the spicy toy in her seat. The fiery oils began to do their painful work almost instantly. Freda couldn't expel it and she couldn't bear to squeeze down on it to clench her bottom cheeks tightly against the cane. "Oh, I know that hurts, but that is why I saved some of the baby oil - just to soothe your insides. I am even going to diaper you so you won't leak on the floor." Then he dropped his voice back to a whisper. "That is the reason for the latex panties, Freda, so you can go poo-poo in your diedees and not get a nasty little vaginal infection. Get ready to go to hell, bitch." Everyone seemed to move onto the edge of their seats as Gerald lowered Freda's arms and then tied them to the feet of the cart which would serve as a whipping block. The enema bulb was right beside her head on one side, while the diaper was on the other. She realized that she was surrounded by the implements of her defeat, and for the first time, she doubted herself and her resolve. Surely the membership wouldn't let him do to her what she had done to him? Surely, she could handle this. Gerald recovered the cane and again rested it on his target. Freda closed her eyes, and tried to somehow "suck in" her bottom, to get it away from what she knew was coming. But the action caused her gluteal muscles to contract, squeezing fresh oils from the ginger and renewing the chemical fire in her bottom. And the rod stayed against her anyway. Defeated, she relaxed her bottom. God, she really couldn't handle this. "Ready?" he asked, and Freda's mind shouted "NO!", but the cane was moving before he'd even finished that one word question. Before she could give voice to her last thought. The cane lashed at its target with buzzing sound and landed with a loud "thwack". "BABBBBBYYYYY!!!!" Freda screamed in broken humiliation. "Please, doooonnnn't. BABY!" Gerald set the cane down and moved back in front of his tormenter. "Very well, Freda, *I* acknowledge and honor *your* safe word. The scene is over." He looked over at Dina. "Free her, Dina. Once she is free, she can remove the fig herself. If she wants the enema, she can use it and expel it here on stage or not at all." Loud applause filled the auditorium as Gerald made his way toward the table where his love sat waiting for him. He started to kneel, but Mary caught him and pulled him into a tight hug. "You are a registered dominant for this whole weekend, love, no kneeling allowed." "At least not in public," Gemma chimed in. "Well done, Gerry. I think old Freda is going to remember this for a long, long time. And you did not let your natural animosity toward her lead you to do anything wrong. It was a lovely little scene." "Whatever" Gerry said diffidently. "Can we go to our room now?" he asked Mary. "I feel the need to be "out of public." Mary grinned. "Of course, Sir," she chirped. "There's just one small problem I need to apprize you of." *Sir??* what the hell was that all about?, Gerry thought. "And that problem is?" "Well." Mary smiled up at him. "You are registered as a dominant, and I registered as a switch, remember?" He slowly nodded. Still, confused. "Well, Gemma just told me there are too many switches this weekend and they are going to have to make some more subs to balance out the number registered as dominants. First come, first serve, and I wasn't nearly first." They'd delayed their arrival as long as possible. Gerry because he did not want to have anything to do with Gemma's plans for Freda and Mary because she was trying to talk him out of doing it at all. "What does that mean?" he asked, starting to be suspicious. "It means I have to be a sub, and since this is an "all subs submit to all dominants" weekend, if you don't hurry up and leash me, someone else might snap me up." "Like me," Alex added. "Like hell." Gerry responded as he caught a mass of straps Gemma tossed him. It was a leash and collar. "You are sure? We could just leave. I've done what I had to do." Mary snatched the collar, put it around her throat before all but slapping the looped end of the leash back into his hand. "At the risk of topping from the bottom, my love. DON'T YOU DARE EVEN THINK ABOUT SUCH A THING!" She slid slowly into his lap and cuddled him lasciviously, her bottom wiggling teasingly against his growing erection. "Little Mary wants to play, Sir," she whispered huskily into his ear before taking a sharp nip at his lobe. Laughing now, Gerald caught her hands and gently fastened the collar himself before connecting the leash. "Well, I guess I have a scene already figured out, and I figure you are far braver than that Freda-bitch." Mary's eyes went wide as she took his implication. Her gaze darted over to the stage where a very chastened Freda tried to soothe away the fires from the hot oils still licking at her insides. Then she swallowed very hard and looked back to Gerry. "I hope I am, Sir." "Oh, I didn't mean that, love." Gerald said as he rose, leash in hand. "Tell me, dear, are you at all . . . ticklish? I know this lady who has these *really* fantastic feathers."