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Message-ID: <29995asstr$988031405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: cats_sara@yahoo.com (Cat's sara)
Reply-To: cats_sara@yahoo.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 19:51:37 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} Wrist Trained - A Mistress Rochelle Story - FF, FD, MC - Cat's sara
Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2001 09:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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If you are younger than 18 years
If sex is taboo to your neighborhood peers
If offended by words full of sexual sleaze
Do us both a favor and skip this, please.

Please ask permission before posting this story elsewhere.
Copyright 2000 by Cat's sara.


- Sara

----

Wrist Trained

by Cat's sara

Categories: FF, FD, MC

----

The woman was ridiculous. Absolutely batty. Still, it was at least
entertaining to listen to her hokey, insipid yammering about the
power she had. Get this: she was trying to tell me that her bracelet
had special, irresistible hypnotic powers.

Okay, so I was attracted. I was always attracted to eccentricity, I
think. At least, judging from my friends, it would seem to be the
case. A little into the dominance and submission thing, too. But she
was a woman, after all.

Maybe I had better start at the start, begin at the beginning and
commence at the commencement.

I was getting a large mocha at the Full O' Beans Coffee Shop and
Roastery. Considering what was about to happen and my reaction to who
I was about to meet, I don't think I could have picked a more
appropriate spot. They could have named the coffee shop after this
woman.

I didn't see her until I turned around to find a seat. They were all
taken; coffee shops in airports are popular in the mornings before
business flights. There was an open seat at a booth, and she was
taking up the other half.  Although I usually prefer my own company,
my feet were tired from walking several concourses.

She was dressed oddly for a summer morning - long fur coat, black
gloves that reached to her elbows and disappeared under the half-
length sleeves. Looking under the table, I could see thigh-high black
boots through the open slit of the coat. The whole effect was topped
off with high cheekbones, reddish brunette hair and emerald green
eyes. They were so green I thought they must have been contacts, but
they were striking, nonetheless.

I felt that familiar twinge of kink in my snatch as I walked over.
Pure Dominatrix. It was easy to see her in a much more dark and
erotic setting. A change of gender and I'd have been putty. She felt
dangerous, like a spider sitting in a web, but when she smiled
towards me, it was all easy friendliness. "Do you mind if I share
your table?" I asked, a little coyly. "I only have a little time to
relax before I have to get to the gate." She smiled more widely and
nodded, and took a sip of espresso as she waved me to the seat
opposite her. "Thank you very much," I commented gratefully.

"Where you headed?" she asked, eyes twinkling. "Chicago; business,"
I answered. "You?"

"Oh, I'm just waiting for someone to come sit down." I felt the
twinge again. Damn, it had been a long time since Stephen left.
Bastard. I was even getting sparked by this woman... and that was
certainly in the realm of "less than fantasy".

"Looks like you got your wish, ummm..."

"Rochelle," she interjected.

"Rochelle," I grinned. "Jane. Pleased to meet you!"

"Same here, Jane." She paused. "What kind of business?"

"Investment banking," I answered, getting ready for the requisite
explanation.

"Sounds kinda boring," she said, and I almost took offense until I
saw her smiling. Perfect teeth. Succulent lips. I shook my head to
clear it a little. I remember thinking, *Wow, it really* has *been a
long time...*

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no," I lied. The truth was that although
it gave me a nice lifestyle, I hated it and couldn't wait to make
enough to be self-sufficient.

"Well, *I* have something interesting to show you," she purred. It
was kind of odd, as if she had been waiting for a reason to say it.
"It's something I'd really like you to see." Oh, great. I wondered if
it was a multi-level marketing plan or a stock tip. Seemed like I
could never get away from these people.

"It's my bracelet," she said so softly that I could barely hear.
"It's really quite amazing. It holds very unusual properties. It
captures minds and souls."

I felt a laugh bubbling up to break through - and tried hard to
stifle it. I knew she could see my amusement, but she must have been
used to that reaction, because she just kept smiling warmly. What
wonderfully full lips...

"I know it sounds crazy, and I even doubted it myself. I mean, look
at it," she said holding it up so that I could see. "It's just a two-
inch wide plain silver bracelet. But it does something to people.
Makes them listen. Makes them believe. Believe anything I tell them."
She was wearing it on the outside of her glove. I thought how strange
that was, and felt another, stronger twinge/tickle in my clit.
Despite the silliness of her words, she was hitting all the right
fetish buttons.

I did give her the benefit of the doubt. I looked at the bracelet
closely, seeing how it seemed almost to shimmer in the light shining
on it from directly above our table. It had a kind of simple
elegance, and a touch of New Age sensibility. As she turned it, the
light seemed to refract around its edges. It was interesting, at
least. 
 
I looked up into her eyes again, and noticed that I had been wrong.
She wasn't wearing contacts. "It's quite beautiful, don't you think?"
I politely nodded my agreement. It was beautiful, but that didn't
quite equate with the powers she was suggesting it had.

"I didn't believe it myself, when I bought it. I got it from a
little shop in the Caribbean, and it was quite expensive for what it
looks like. But the old woman who sold it to me swore that it could
change people. Well, change women. Men just see a silver bracelet."

I kept looking at her eyes as she babbled on and on about it. It was
a good thing they were there; they kept me from laughing in her face
and getting up to walk away.

Now, her eyes *were* amazing. Deep whirlpools of bright emerald
green that I could get lost in. So easily. Gratefully. Made it so
much easier to hear without listening. I let myself answer naturally,
and it seemed to be working. She didn't even notice my stare, or that
my answers were just taken from the little cues of what she wanted to
hear.

And, besides, she was turning me on. Despite how crazy she was, she
was the sexiest woman I had ever met. As I sat there, my mind
wandered back to my marriage, divorce and relationships on either
side of those events. Always so much promise. Always ending badly.
Always so much pain.

*Always men.*

I startled myself with that odd realization, but kept myself from
showing it outwardly. I didn't want to offend Rochelle; she was still
absorbed in her ongoing monologue. Besides, once I saw it, I saw the
truth of it. You can't fight the truth.

As I sat there, I remembered how I'd always been fascinated by women
and afraid to do anything about it. How sexy I felt around women.
Time wasted chasing flawed expectations. Even being around Rochelle
now, I was becoming aroused beyond anything I'd ever felt before.

Inside the back of my mind, I realized I had to catch my plane. I
glanced at my watch, and Rochelle said, "Relax. There are plenty of
other planes and other people on them. No need to go just yet."
Right. Silly of me to worry. I had more important things to think
about, anyway, like the realizations that were coming to me on this
funny summer morning, sitting across from this funny, eccentric
woman. She went back to her babbling, I went back to her eyes.

"Well, I should at least call and tell my associates I'll be
arriving late."

"Sure hon, go ahead. Such a shame to be a slave to them, you know.
Especially when you hate what you do." How had she known that?
Suddenly I had a vague memory of telling her all kinds of things, but
it stilled and my mind went blank. She had only been going on and on
about the bracelet. I had only been responding normally. She was
simply very perceptive.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Chicago. The phone rang
several times, and finally Brad picked up and said, "Hello?"

"Yes, Brad, this is Jane. I'm in St. Louis still. Oh, and Brad? I'm
resigning. I've had enough of being a puppet to you and the company.
Send my severance package to my home. Thanks." I could hear him
choking and trying to respond as I closed the phone and turned off
the power.

I put away the cell phone and went back to the whirlpools that were
Rochelle's eyes.

"Good girl," she whispered, conspiratorially. Yes. Good for me. I
was glad to see she was pleased. The arousal in my pussy... my
cunt... shot up as I realized she liked what I had done. I just
wanted to hear her voice start again so I could get lost in those
eyes. She obliged, I quit listening, and let the waves come.

My hand was sneaking under the waistband of my skirt, snaking slowly
down to my shouting clit.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "This is a public place!"

"I'm masturbating," I replied easily. I couldn't see what she was
upset about. It was the most natural thing in the world. All her talk
about a 'hypnobracelet' had addled her brain. I moaned as my fingers
found their destination and began to tease my distended pleasure
nubbin.

"Well, in my book, that makes you a slut," she mentioned casually.

"Yes, I'm a slut," I agreed. I didn't know there was a question
about it.

"Sluts are only good for one thing, you know. Sexual slavery," she
added.

"I know that - that's my reason to live."

"Well, slaves are never away from their owner's side. I don't see
anyone else nearby. What does that make me?"

"My Owner." I couldn't believe She was being so obtuse.

"Your *Mistress*," she corrected.

"My Mistress. Apologies."

The heat in my loins was well beyond bringing me to a heart-stopping
orgasm, but still I had not - could not - cum. I realized I wanted
Her to share in the experience somehow. I circled faster, brutally
pressing hard on my hot little slutty clit.

"What business did you say you were in?" She queried.

"Monkey business," I answered, grinning sheepishly. Hadn't She been
listening?

"And who is it you obey?"

"You, Mistress Rochelle."

"And who is it you live to serve?"

"You, Mistress Rochelle."

"And how long have you served me?"

My voice caught for a moment, as another starkly clear revelation
hit me full force. "Since I was born."

With the words, my fingers plunged deeply into my pussy, ravaging my
most inner folds. God, I needed to cum for Her! It was excruciating,
melting my brain into a puddle of wanton need.

"Your sexual orientation?"

"Lesbian, Mistress."

"Your name?"

"slavejane, Mistress."

"And how do you receive pleasure?"

"By pleasing You, Mistress."

"Do you remember the hypnobracelet?"

"No." I struggled, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what
on earth She was talking about.

"Look at your right wrist and tell me what you see."

I looked down and saw my silver slave bracelet adorning my wrist.

"My training bracelet."

"Tell me about it."

"It controls my heart, mind and soul. It can't be removed. Nor do I
want to."

"You have done well, slavejane. You may cum for Rochelle now."

I watched as the Coffee Shop disappeared and the fizzling stars
covered my vision. I was in Rochelle now, on the edge of... *great
fucking slave-whore in the sky... cumming* as wave after wave of
pleasure and submission tore through me like a hurricane, legs
twitching, toes curling in my shoes, screaming out my endless
passion, my obedience taking me even higher, my life being sealed
forever to... oh god...*Mistresssssssssssssssssssssssssss...*

----

It's a different kind of life I have now. I can see my past, the one
I thought I had, like a dream after waking. Being allowed to see what
I was truly born to be has changed it, and I recognize the false
memories and how little sense they make. Mistress is my reality, and
always has been... like the revulsion I feel for my unjust corruption
by the man and woman who stole me away from Her as a child.

Now, I know you think I'm crazy, sitting here in the Coffee Shop,
waiting for someone to sit down, but I'm even wearing the bracelet.
See? And I can tell you're trying not to listen as you nod, your eyes
distant. No matter. What business did you say you were in? Public
Relations? Sounds like *Monkey Business* to *me.*









----

Please send any comments or feedback to cats_sara@yahoo.com. Thanks
for reading!!!

- Sara



http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sara_H/www/

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