Scenario Five

(MC, Mdom, mast)

by Decker

Disclaimer:

I wrote this. This is an original work of fiction, bearing little to no resemblance to reality. This is neither intended nor recommended for minors, the faint at heart, or forums/areas/locales where such depictions are proscribed, censored, or illegal. This has been posted with the kindly aid and permission of Simon bar Sinister, who also correctly notes, “The situations described here are at best impossible or at worst highly immoral in real life. Anyone wishing to try this stuff for real should seek psychological help and/or get a life.” Please do not repost, publish, or distribute in whole or in part without the author’s explicit permission. Stories by this author (and many others) may be found at MC Stories.

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{Audio recording of session eight. Subject Two, impromptu meeting @3:21PM, half hour.}

Subject #2: (sounding agitated) Doctor? Thanks for seeing me. I know it’s last-minute and all, but I really need this.

Doctor: It’s fine, it’s fine. Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee…?

S2: No, thanks. I’m not thirsty, and I don’t need anything making me jitterier than I am right now. Is that a word, jitterier?

D: I don’t know. Here. I took the liberty of refilling your prescription.

S2: Thank you, doctor. God, I need a thick hot cock in my mouth. Can I blow you right here?

D: What?

S2: I said, can I take a pill right here? I could really use it.

D: ...Go ahead.

S2: Ahh… Oh, that’s better. Well, it will be. One every four hours max, right?

D: Correct. Go past that and the side effects start in.

S2: And I sure as hell don’t need those! Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be swearing.

D: It’s all right. Why don’t you take a minute or two to settle, and then we’ll talk.

S2: Oh, thank you… Ok, I think I’m all right now. I can go if you want, I don’t–

D: I’m free for half an hour. Let’s make use of the time, shall we?

S2: Good, ok. Man, these taste like breath mints! Exactly like breath mints. Weird.

D: They’ve got some peppermint added. You don’t mind, do you?

S2: Oh, no, I was just surprised. No, they taste good. It’s so kids won’t mind, or something, right?

D: Exactly. So… are the dreams back?

S2: Ok. Sorry. I must have spaced out there. Yeah, the dreams are back. Worse. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The mints – I’m sorry, the meds – keep ‘em off my back at night, so I sleep now, but it’s still pretty strange.

D: I imagine.

S2: Right. I mean, I wake up in the morning, and everything’s moved around.

D: Furniture, and such?

S2: No, nothing like that. But my car will have moved, or my purse is in a different spot. And makeup – it just seems to disappear!

D: Gone completely?

S2: No, not gone, just less of it. Wouldn’t that be weird, if someone’s breaking in to use my makeup?

D: Absolutely.

S2: Most mornings, I wake up sore, like I’ve been working out. And a lot of times there’s an odd taste in my mouth.

D: A bad taste?

S2: No, not really. Kinda nice, actually. Is that a complaint? If you like it, I guess it’s not a problem, right?

D: Only if it bothers you.

S2: Oh. Well, forget about the soreness, then – it feels nice, too.

D: Ok. Anything else about waking up?

S2: Well, I’m sleeping a lot better. No dreams now, like I said, at least none that I remember. But – oh! A lot of times I’m in different pajamas than what I went to bed in.

D: Hmm. Can you give me an example?

S2: Sure. Take this morning. I had a long day at the firm, so I wanted a quiet evening. Some cocoa, a little TV, and then bed. Early to bed, around nine. Next thing I know, it’s seven AM, and I’m really tired.

D: Well, some people sleepwalk vigorous activities. Are you sweaty or smelly when you wake?

S2: No, not at all. I smell pretty good, actually, like I just got out of the shower. Sometimes I even think I can smell perfume! Not mine, of course.

D: How do you know?

S2: ‘Cause it’s never the kind I wear. Floral, sometimes, or musky. You know… suggestive stuff.

D: And you don’t wear that, usually?

S2: Never. I want to be a professional at work, and my fiancée doesn’t mind. I assume, anyway, I haven’t asked. But our relationship’s not about the sex.

D: I see. Go on.

S2: Right. So I wake up in the nude.

D: And you never sleep naked? What did you go to bed in?

S2: Just some PJs: a push-up bra, matching thong, garter belt… you know, the usual stuff. I’m just a little girl at heart, I guess.

D: Have you ever tried wearing anything else to bed?

S2: Well, in college we wore sleep-shirts, but I like something comfortable, now that I can afford it. It’s dowdy, I guess, but I’m not trying to impress anyone.

D: So you’re wearing a garter belt to bed. Stockings, I assume?

S2: Well, sure. Not much point in the belt otherwise, right? Some days I leave ‘em on, if I’m late to work. Like today, I didn’t have time to put on a shirt under this.

D: All right. Does it get better or worse when your fiancée sleeps over?

S2: (firmly) Oh, he’s never slept over. I’m saving myself for marriage, and he agrees it’s a good idea.

D: But surely there’s some temptation…

S2: Oh, it’s there, I admit, and we got close to… doing stuff, early on. But he’s decided to wait with me. (sighing) Just another reason to serve him.

D: I beg your pardon?

S2: Another reason to love him, I said. He’s so sweet.

D: And how are things going with him?

S2: Oh, fine, fine. Eventually, he’ll finish school and then I can stop pretending to be a smart girl. I’m really quite stupid, but having a hot body more than makes up for it in today’s workplace, you know? With everyone scared of sexual harassment suits, a nice piece of eye candy can really go places.

D: Say again?

S2: I said, eventually, he’ll finish school and then finances will be better. I’ve been thinking about becoming a full-time mom, if and when the time comes, but my career comes first, you know? With the job market the way it is, a talented woman can really go places.

D: Quite. So he hasn’t noticed anything odd?

S2: Not as far as I know. I’ve asked, but he says I’m acting normal.

D: When was the last time you asked him?

S2: Let’s see… last Wednesday, I think. I’d just finished sucking him off in a movie theater, but I choked at the end and got a bunch of it on my face. It took forever to get it off; I must’ve looked like an idiot, sitting there licking his cream off of my hands and face.

D: Do you do that a lot?

S2: We don’t go to the movies very often, I guess… oh! You mean my drink. No, I usually don’t spill things. I guess they extra-carbonate the soft drinks there, or something; went right up my nose.

D: All right… is that the main thing?

S2: Oh, no, that I can deal with. It’s the daytime stuff that’s the problem.

D: Daytime? Like a waking dream?

S2: That’s it exactly, it’s like a bunch of waking dreams.

D: And how frequently do they occur?

S2: It varies. I’ve gotten six in a day before, and then sometimes nothing for three or four days. A lot more often on weekends and later in the day, but it’s been starting at work. I had one today, a really serious one. That’s why I came right over.

D: Are they all the same?

S2: No, they’re… they all start the same, but… well, sometimes they’re… it’s hard to explain.

D: Don’t get flustered, just relax. Take a few deep breaths and give me an example. Not today’s; that’s too fresh. Try a typical one.

S2: Ok, thanks. Can I take off my sweater? It’s kinda warm in here.

D: Go ahead.

S2: Ahhh… that’s better. Stupid thing keeps getting caught in my earrings when I turn my head. Alright, an example.

S2: They always start the same. I get a call, or someone says something to me – a man, but I can never make out his face, never recognize the voice. Sometimes it’s an email, too, or a text message on my cell, but usually it’s a call. And this person – this man – he starts quizzing me. Question after question, and I have to get them all right.

D: What kind of questions?

S2: I’m getting to that. They never sound like questions, but I know I have to respond. Most of the time I say the answer, but sometimes I have to do it, too. That usually only happens if he’s with me. In the waking dreams, I mean.

D: What does he say?

S2: Sometimes he says stuff, but most of the time it’s ‘role’, ‘position’, ‘scenario’, or ‘script’, followed by a number. It’s weird. It’s like I’m supposed to have memorized a bunch of things, and I don’t know what they mean, but if I don’t give the right answer, I’ll be punished, or maybe have to do it until I remember. He’ll say… he’ll say…

D: Say what?

S2: I can’t do it. I just can’t make myself. You ask.

D: Are you sure?

S2: Yeah. Can’t hurt, right? You’re my doctor.

D: All right… ‘position one’.

S2: See? Nothing happens, when you say it. But in the dream, I…

D: Snap to attention, chest out, hips back?

S2: Exactly! How’d you know?

D: All part of the training. Go ahead and sit down, please.

S2: Thanks. So he asks, and I respond. And the strange thing is how well I know all this stuff. I don’t even know what some of it means, but I know what to do, or what to say. Like, um. Well, position one is like a military stance, right? Well, they’re all kind of ‘attention’ stances until twenty-one. Then they’re more like model poses.

D: All standing?

S2: Oh, no. Some are lying down, some are bent over… wait. (rustles) This is position thirty-seven: bend at the waist, head down, hips up as high as they go, hands grip the back of the chair, arms just a little bent, and heels waaay apart. Or this: (more rustling). Sitting, backside almost on the edge of the seat, legs over and on the outside of the armrests, hands on the knees and kind of relaxed. Hair flipped either side, pouty full-lipped look… and there you have it, position forty-nine. It’s best to wear a skirt or dress for this one, of course, and I need a chair with armrests.

D: I see.

S2: Mind if I sit like this a while? It’s pretty comfortable. Unless… you can’t see up my skirt from there, can you?

D: I’ll be the first to tell you if I see something I don’t like. Go on about the poses.

S2: Right. Some are harmless, but… most are… well, pretty sexy. Like I want to be taken advantage of. It’s pretty exciting; there’s lots of ways for me to please my fiancée.

D: Say again?

S2: Which part. Um… ‘some are harmless, but most are pretty explicit. Like I’m being taken advantage of, by someone. It’s pretty scary, like I’m cheating on my fiancée.’

D: What about the roles? Same thing?

S2: Same thing. Lots of those. He’ll say ‘role sixty’, and I know – I just know – that’s a schoolgirl, punk type.

D: ’Punk type’?

S2: Right. Oh, that’s right, you wouldn’t know ‘em. Sixty is a punk-rock schoolgirl. She wears tartan skirts, Doc Martins, tattered shirts, fishnet gloves and stockings, and lots of black lace. She has a rebellious attitude, promiscuous and aggressive. She likes Black Flag, smokes a lot, swears a lot, gets off on light bondage, and loves anal sex ‘cause it’s dirty. Next is fifty-nine: schoolgirl, slut type. Everything is tight, short, and/or transparent on her. Bisexual, exhibitionistic, and incredibly horny. Completely into sex: any kind, anywhere, anyone. You see? Similar, but different. Fifty-eight is the flirty type. Kind of a cock-tease extraordinaire. Fifty-seven, innocent type. You get the picture.

D: I think I do. And these roles… they’re complete fantasies, in and of themselves?

S2: Oh, no. At least, I don’t think so. They’ve got their own proclivities, personality traits, styles of dress and everything, but I’m supposed to react to the world as them, whatever happens. A pose is what I’m suppose to do, a script is what I’m supposed to say, a role is what I’m supposed to be, and a scenario is what I’m supposed to believe. Some of the scenarios incorporate elements of the other three categories, but most are stand-alone. They’re weird… if I ever was really in one, I don’t think I’d be able to tell what was real and what was the scene, you know? Creepy. Luckily there’s only a few dozen of them. The roles are the most numerous.

D: How… how many are roles are there?

S2: I don’t know. I guess I do, subconsciously, but I can’t remember. More than poses, and there’s a little over a hundred of those. Do you mind if I take this off? The underwire’s been poking me all day.

D: Be my guest. So scripts are things you have to say?

S2: Right, usually with some variation allowed. Script twenty-nine: “You like that, you big bad naughty boy? You like it when I fuck you this hard? I’m gonna ride you like the prize stud you are, make you come right up in me, come so hard you’ll–”

D: I… I think that’s enough.

S2: Sorry, got a little carried away. There’s like, six or seven paragraphs of that from start to finish, with some allowance for variation, and I know it by heart if I think about it. It’s almost like it’s ingrained, you know?

D: Almost, yes. What about the scenarios?

S2: Oh, those. They’re like roles, only more involved. Not just an outfit and personality, but everything. Like, I call scenario one ‘the simmering slut’. I’m supposed to be all horny and frustrated, but I can’t come until my Master – whoever he is – tells me to. And nothing I do will change that. I can masturbate all day, fuck everything in sight, and it just gets worse until he gives me permission, orders me to come. Or scenario five, in which I’m a closet nympho businesswoman seeing a shrink, telling him absolutely everything and trying to seduce him. Or scenario twenty-one, where I have to make five hundred dollars before the sun comes up, and the only way I know how is to pretend to be a hooker. Or…

D: Ok, I think I get the picture. So what happened today?

S2: Today I got a doozy – a real mess. The morning was going fine, everything on the rails, and then BANG! Phone call, and the quiz starts. So I’m whispering the answers, one after another, right? I’m nervous, standing at my desk, and my boss comes over. “What’s wrong,” he says, and I can’t answer, not without getting an answer wrong. So I stand there another five minutes, and he just looking and listening while I’m blushing and whispering all this sex stuff into the phone…

D: Are you… fingering yourself?

S2: Oh, sorry. I do that when I’m nervous, I guess. I’ll stop in a minute. So I’m finally finished, and my boss and I just look at each other. I’m so embarrassed I can’t look away, and I can’t say a thing. Finally, he takes me into his office, and gives me a big long speech about all kinds of stuff, stuff I’ve been bad about lately. Inappropriate conversations, poor quality of work, and failing to meet the dress code. The last two are totally untrue, by the way. My work’s been fine, and the dress code… does this look inappropriate for work?

D: I suppose it depends on what kind of work you want to do...

S2: Totally. So he’s checking me out, and mumbling policy to himself, and I’m getting warm… you know, down there. I’m helpless, he’s in control, and there’s only one thing I can do.

D: Apologize?

S2: Ha! In the real world, yes, but this is dream, remember? So I walk towards him, kinda push him back into that chair of his, and before he can say ‘reprimand’ one more time, I’ve got his… thing out, and in my mouth. I’ve never done that in real life before, but in the dream it was nice. Didn’t take long or anything, and I swallowed all of his… stuff. I wipe my mouth, give him a little smile, and head out… and then I wake up, back at my desk.

D: That must be very… distracting. Would you mind cleaning your fingers for me? Ah… thank you. Do go.

S2: It’s happened other times, but that’s the worst one. What if it ever happens for real? I might get fired, you know? Or my fiancée will think I’m cheating on him. I’ve been extra nice to him lately, so he won’t suspect, but I can’t hide it forever. And if one of the weird ones happens while I’m in public…

D: Weird ones?

S2: Yeah. Ohhh, yeah. Oh, that taste good. Want some?

D: Perhaps in a few minutes. What’s the weirdest dream you can recall?

S2: Let’s see… I’d have to say the rabbit one. Woke up dressed like a bunny and tied on all fours to a motel bed. Not a bunny suit, mind you, but like a sex bunny. Furry bikini, little fluffy tail, floppy ears and painted-on whiskers. I even had a blackened nose and little frilly carrot socks on. Took me forever to untie myself.

D: And no idea how you got there or what happened?

S2: Nope, never found out. The room was already paid by a ‘Mr. Brown’. The costume had been special-ordered by some fetish supply store, under my name, so a dead-end there, too. I ordered a couple more from the same place, just in case.

D: Just in case what?

S2: Er… in case whoever’s doing this is, um, keeping track. That way I can catch him when he picks up the costumes, right? The fox one came in yesterday, but I’ve been waiting for him before I pick it up.

D: That’s an… innovative plan, I’ll grant. And if you discover this person’s identity?

S2: I… I don’t know. It’s kinky as hell, but I… I don’t know. It’s scary sometimes. I mean, I want to be a virgin when I get married, you know? There’s this dream I have where I’m all decked out in a white veil and bridal lingerie, and I’m being chased all around the house. Sometimes my place, sometimes my fiancee’s. I can’t run fast or hide well ‘cause my snatch is burning up, and I can’t take off the high heels. He’s going to fuck me, I know, bang me ‘till I don’t know my own name, make me come on him, and there’s nothing I can do… so helpless…

God. Oh. Oh, god. I’m so close, Doctor. Can I come?

D: No, not yet.

S2: It all seems so real. I don’t know… I’ve tried ignoring it, I’ve tried resisting, I’ve tried medication, and nothing seems to help. So… what do I do now, Doctor?

D: End scenario five; begin scenario two.

S2: (monotone)… Yes. I obey, Master. This slave is ready for new commands.

{End official transcript. Scheduled Subject #2 for appointment on Friday, and had her clear her weekend schedule to map new programming and reinforce existing. I’m looking forward to a fox hunt.}

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Author’s note: I imagine a real MCer would be quite the control freak. This was written in one day, from three scribbled lines of notes. It’s not particularly good or long, but it didn’t waste too much time, did it?