Message-ID: <19657eli$9902040444@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year99/19657.txt> From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (25/31) (FemDom, Romance) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: tigger@alices.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <36c7fbad.10184956@news.erols.com> Tales of the Cabal: Protecting the Mistress by Tigger Copyright 1999, All Rights Reserved. Archiving and reposting of this work is permitted only on sites where *no* fee (including so-called adult checks) of any type is charged and provided that my authorship, the story itself and this statement of rights are included and are unchanged. This story is based on the Cabal as I developed it in one of my first stories, "Domination Games." This story is archived at the Nifty Archive. Url: www.nifty.org/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Tigger/ The file is Domination-Games.html *********** Protecting the Mistress by Tigger Part 25: Aftermath Mary's obnoxiously cheerful alarm chimed to announce that a new work day had dawned. Her fatigue-fogged mind did not react immediately, and it was several seconds before she was alert enough to slap her hand in the general location of the snooze button. The alarm cycled again seven minutes later, and then seven minutes after that before Mary could finally drag herself from beneath the covers. That was when she realized something was missing, several some things, in fact. Gerald up and with her morning coffee for starters since that service was one of his primary morning chores. A quick sniff of the air didn't even carry a hint of brewing coffee either. Well, she thought, if she was this blitzed, how must he feel? He'd been very listless when Freda had returned him, fully dressed yet oddly still restrained hand and foot, to Mary's suite a little after four the previous evening. Mary had been a little surprised that Freda had taken the time to stop by the slave dormitory so that Gerry could dress and gather his things ahead of the other homeward-bound slaves. That unexpected consideration on Freda's part had permitted them to leave immediately for home. Gerry had been so wasted, she remembered - he did not even offer to drive as he had in the past - he'd simply settled very carefully down onto his seat, and had not said a single word for the entire drive. She'd thought a couple of times that he'd fallen asleep, but each time she'd checked he'd been awake, and staring off into the darkness. Once they'd reached home, Gerry had requested and received her permission to go straight up to his room and get into his bed. He must have overslept. A quick check downstairs revealed no sign of Gerald, although his four wheel drive vehicle was still where she'd parked it the night before. Back upstairs, she heard him talking on the phone in his room and had slipped inside. Gerry was laying on his stomach and talking into the phone. "Yes, Vicki, that's right. I fell and hurt my hip. I can barely walk. No, I don't know if I will be able to come in tomorrow, either. If it isn't better, I will probably have to go to the doctor. Yes, I will call and let you know. Thanks. See you later." Gerald set the phone on the hook and only then realized that he was not alone in the room. "Good morning, Mistress," he said, but did not attempt to rise from his bed in her presence. "Good morning, Gerry. How bad is your hip?" A surprised look flitted across his face. "Oh . . . well, that was just a little white lie. I need some more time to rest, and I would like to take my weekly eight hours today after you get home from work." Mary saw him trying to look sheepish, but he was too intrinsically honest a man to dissemble very well. "All right, Gerry. Tonight it is. In the meantime, I want my coffee. I am going to go take my shower while you fix it." She turned and left the room, but stopped just outside to listen out of Gerald's sight. Hearing nothing, Mary reentered the bedroom catching Gerald's tortuously slow, obviously painful efforts to crawl out of his bed. "*Stop* . . . *right* . . . *there*!" she ordered coldly. "Now, I want you to pull down your shorts, right now." "Mary . . . " Gerald said in an exasperated tone. "I am your *Mistress*, sir, by your own consent," she said with quiet intensity in her voice and fire in her eyes, "And I will remain your Mistress until *you* tell me otherwise and terminate our contract with the Cabal. Now, either formally renounce me as your Mistress or do as I just ordered. . . . I mean NOW, Mister!" Gerald looked at her for a moment, and Mary could almost see him considering trying to argue her out of her chosen course. For his part, Gerald saw the unyielding steel in her. Then he remembered why he was in this condition. She would terminate the contract, damn her, and then what he went through over the weekend would have been for nothing. Slowly, and with great care, Gerald slid the white cotton jockey shorts down over his ass. "Oh . . . My . . . god," Mary choked out, horrified. Tears started to prickle and burn at her eyes as she forced herself to carefully examine the condition of her man's backside. With a cry of anguish, she ran from the room, slamming and locking his door behind her. ~-----------~ Mary furiously brushed the wayward lock of hair out of her eyes and snarled into the telephone. She wanted to cry some more, but just then, she was just too damned angry. "Gemma, Look. I want the Cabal's doctor over here at Gerry's place right now, okay? I don't give a good goddamn what he may be doing. Short of lifesaving surgery, I want him here in thirty minutes . . . " "God damn it, of course I am serious. Let me tell you just how serious I am. If that damn Doctor is not over here in the next half hour, I will take Gerry to the Emergency Room, and I will answer every damned one of their questions - truthfully . . . " "Screw the damn parole file, Gemma. He needs help. Gerald is a physical mess and he can barely move . . . " "Gemma, you should see his ass, okay? What isn't welted and badly bruised is splotched with diaper rash! And at least three of the welts are showing signs of being infected. The bitch must have left him in wet diapers all damned night! . . ." "Fine. You do that, and while you're at it, why don't you come over and see for yourself. . . ." "I don't fucking care how well respected she is nor do I care that he didn't use his safe word during the nursery scenes with that bitch. He's been *abused*, damn her soul to hell, and if she is half as good as you seem to think she is, then she couldn't possibly have missed that. . . ." "God damn it, Gemma - NO, I am *not* exaggerating and I am most definitely not overreacting. I have been doing what we do for a long time, and I know when a scene has gone too fucking far, particularly when I god damned know well the sub involved. If Freda is so damned experienced and well respected, then she should have known the scene had gone too fucking far, particularly since she knew next to nothing about the slave involved and what he could or could not handle." "Good. See you then." The phone survived its sudden and abrupt return to the cradle. Not by much, but it did survive. For several long moments, Mary simply stood there, staring down at the phone and fighting to regain some semblance of composure. Other than for effect when she was playing the bad ass Domme-bitch, Mary did not often permit herself to resort to such language, but as enraged as she was at that very moment, no other words seemed sufficient to her needs. Actually, even those were insufficient to her needs. She simply did not know any words vile enough to express her fury. Mary took several more minutes to start hot coffee and to cool off a little more. Not too much, though - she wasn't done venting her acute displeasure on the Cabal Queen Bee yet - not by a long shot. In fact, the only reason she was trying to calm down at all was that she still needed to see to Gerry, and she couldn't be raging when she did that. The coffee making took even longer than she'd planned. In all the time she'd been here, she'd never had to raise so much as a pinky-finger in Gerald's kitchen. As a result, she didn't know where anything was stored. Well, that was about to change, too, at least until Gerry was well and truly on his feet again. Mary decided she had to enjoy doing such things for him as much as possible while she still could. DAMN Freda, she thought with a spurt of renewed anger, and damn the whole blasted Cabal as well. Not good, she told herself, you have to be cool and collected when you face Gerry again, and so she turned her attention back to the task at hand. The simple ritual of measuring out coffee beans, grinding them and starting the brewer finally helped calm her. She called her own office and told them she was ill. By the time she was off the phone, the coffee was done. Mary filled two mugs with the dark, fragrant brew and carried them up to Gerald's room. Gerald was laying on his stomach atop his blankets. His shorts still down around his ankles, when Mary opened the door. Silently, she handed him one of the steaming mugs and then settled herself on the edge of the bed, being careful not to jostle him. "Gemma is sending a doctor over to check you over." He started to protest but her hand on his mouth stopped him. "You will let him check you over, so don't waste your breath trying to argue me out of that. He is a member of the Cabal, completely. Discreet and very good at what he does. You don't have to worry about what his records will say." She took a sip from her cup and grimaced. Gerald made much better coffee than she did. "So," Mary continued in a saccharine sweet voice, "Why don't you take this opportunity to explain to me just how the hell you let yourself get into that abysmal condition when I specifically ordered you use your safe word and when you gave me your *word* that you would?!!?" 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