Welcome to my portion of Mid Week Tease! This week I'm going to introduce you to Mistress Guinevere. Her story, Red Stilettos is part of Dark Tales Diaries: Volume One.
For years, Tristan Blackthorn has toiled to find his lost love. He finally decides to use Blackthorn Printing, along with his newly created Dark Tales Diaries, as a way to find her. Will her story be one of the three tales in Volume One?
Mistress Guinevere’s calling card is her Red Stilettos. She specializes in a particular fetish and always maintains her control, until a man from her past returns to test her will.
A recently divorced woman experiences the effects of empty nest syndrome after her twins head off to college. With the clock ticking away, she decides it’s far past time to seek out something that has always eluded her. Will she find what she’s looking for with The Leather’s Edge?
And a bored computer programmer learns what it’s like to feel sexual freedom after being bound by a Master in Safe Word.
Dear Dark Tales;
I’m good at what I do. That’s not braggadocio. That’s fact. But being the best took 5 years of training as an understudy with the legendary, Mistress Payn. What I learned from her was more valuable than my years in academia, obtaining my highbrow Harvard education. And when I was ready, I emerged from her tutelage, stronger. No longer the weakling. I’d rid myself of that groveling, pathetic creature who was stepped on, overlooked, mistreated, and more times than not, dismissed. The woman who writes to you now would never crawl, wallow, or be any man’s doormat. She’s in control, with a new found je-ne-sais-quois and savoir-faire that is completely her own, and I like it that way.
You may wonder just what it is that qualifies me for your dark tales. And I intend to tell all. You see, I found my niche in the world of taboo. Fetish. Those darker desires one seeks out in the pursuit of pleasure. Those things people rarely talk about or wish to admit. You may call me Mistress Guinevere. I am a dominatrix; however, I wield no whip. I don no leather. I do not require a paddle, handcuffs, or ropes. Something straightforward has become my calling card, as well the one and only tool of my trade. Blood-red stilettos. Too minimal you may say. Nothing horribly intriguing about red stilettos, right? Wrong. Those stilettos gain me six figures a year in income. More than I made as a lawyer. And those same stilettos have given me something priceless. Freedom. Independence. Power.
I work from home, four nights a week with a select, hand-picked set of eighteen clientele. I engage in no sexual intercourse with my clients, but that’s not to say there’s no sexual activity or gratification taking place. They are very well satisfied, so much so, that my Manhattan penthouse is paid in full by one of my gentleman callers. For his privacy, and due to his contradictory character, I will call him Mr. Enigma.
Mr. Enigma has a standing appointment every Tuesday night, promptly at six to wash and fondle my feet. Why promptly? Because we have come to an understanding. If he is but one second late, he will not have the pleasure of my company that night. And I assure you, he requires my company so he is never late.
Mr.… I’ll call him Mr. CatchHim. Why? Well, he’s very well to do; part of the Fortune Five Hundred, in fact. He’s handsome, hung like a horse, and women fawn all over him in an attempt to snag themselves a wealthy husband. He likes to slowly remove a woman’s shoe, suck on her toes, and see red painted toenails adorned on the perfect feet that stroke his hard cock. If those women only knew the secret to actually catching Mr. CatchHim, they might consider his request, but sadly, his desire is something he hasn’t found any woman willing to do, except me.
It was Mr. CatchHim who purchased my latest car. A sleek, red Jaguar that even sports a vanity plate with bright red lettering that simply says, “STILETTOS.”
Mr. BangYourHead comes by anytime he’s in town, and I always accommodate his usually last minute call, due to the fact he was very generous in providing me an all-expense paid holiday to Rome this summer. Mr. BangYourHead is a lead singer for a well-known band, and he, along with his band, has graced the covers of Rolling Stone more than once.
Mr. BangYourHead has a particular liking to being walked upon. Literally, walked upon. Of course, I’m more than happy to provide that precise service. Each well-placed dig of my spiked heel upon his muscular, bare back brings him to the edge of climax, but he only completes his release when I give the command.
Mr. Meticulous is my newest client and one in dire need of my services. He loves to suck the pointed tip of my shoe while masturbating. He’s a work in progress and ejaculates too quickly. I will be teaching him the art of control. For his wham bam mentality, he will be punished. He will clean each and every pair of red stilettos I have until they sparkle. And when I say each and every pair, I mean each of the one hundred and ten pair I own.
This is a business, and I treat it as such. However it is a business of pleasure, and of need. Both psychological and physical. I never forget while it is a business, it is the business of people. I’m not dealing in products or goods, churning out trinkets on an assembly line. I’m providing a service. In a twisted way it’s like being a counselor or therapist, presenting an outlet to your client.
There is a trust between myself and my clients, and I provide a safe place for them to explore their innermost secrets, but I do keep that separation between Mistress/client, outlining clear and detailed roles in our relationship. If they do not follow the rules, they will no longer be a client, and if at any time they wish to renegotiate, I consider their request, but never will the terms of their negotiations go against my first rule. Never give anyone the upper hand or relinquish my control.
Quite simply, in order to be the best, I’ve come to understand that each man seeks a different need to be met, even if he doesn’t know what that need is, so I weed out the bullshit, hone in on that need, and fulfill it as long as I maintain the balance of power in my favor.
I must confess. Your sexy periodicals hooked me. They, being one of my own secret pleasures in which I indulge, are magnificent works of erotic art. When I read you were looking for tales of the forbidden to add to your new Dark Tales line through Blackthorn Printing, I knew I must be included.
You can find Dark Tales Diaries: Volume One Here:
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