Interview with a Domme by Nikita
Interview with a Domme by Nikita
The phone rang at 11:20 am. I looked at the caller id; it was her.
"I'm getting ready to leave. What are YOU doing?" she asked.
"Just hopped out of the shower. Be there by noon." I lied.
Guess what, I rushed my ass over there. I wasn't going to be late a second time.
The lunch spot was loud, bustling, and had LOTS of tables. It was an ideal location for interviewing the domme. Tanya arrived on time, and, as usual, in black attire, her bearing regal, as if she was descended from the Dracules. Long, wavy, dark red hair surrounded the pale, thin face. Her tropical blue eyes could turn icy at the snap of a finger. Her steel toed black leather boots had chain wrapped across the top and under the heel. The familiar black leather bag made a return appearance, and, I hoped, sans Bible.
To say I was trembling would be an understatement. Tanya graced me with her smile and treated me to lunch. As she ushered me to a table and retrieved our lunch trays, I struggled to gather my wits. We both ordered broccoli cheddar soup, a personal winter favorite, dry sandwiches, and water to wash it down. The wall we sat against buffered the noise but did little to shelter us from the close proximity of the other diners. And so, we talked of normal things again...until I took out my pen and notebook.
The notebook was pale yellow and sage green plaid...not something that can be ignored. Our eyes connected and it was time to begin. She smiled and suddenly, I needed to take a shit.
"Whatcha got kiddo..." she asked, chewing out of the side of her mouth.
"Umm, here's a questionnaire that was sent to me. Can you explain some of these things?"
As she glanced over them, her head nodded, as if VERY familiar with the questions.
"Oh, this measures curiosity levels." She noted, "Yours?"
"And His."
An evil grin crossed her face and came to shadow mine.
"It's evident he likes boobs and pussy,...foot worship...no mystery there...oh...and ..."
Tanya pointed to a question and I nodded.
"Now for yours..."
She took out her reading glasses for mine.
"You gotta change this, can't be a wuss," she admonished. "And you don't like THIS? Well, you are going to try it girly. That's what I'D make you do." and she changed my answer.
In fact, she changed quite a few of my answers, and my head was spinning. I felt like a bubble head. What was I going to do? Can't argue with a redhead whose hair is redder than yours. Then she pointed to a question that I found hard to answer...I shook my head.
"Hmmm, ya got your hands full, girly. boxed yourself in."
Her comment felt like a blow and I wanted to ask "Doc, am I gonna live?"
"Let's put our heads together here..." she suggested.
For about an hour we went through the questionnaires. They covered interest levels and limits of BDSM, something completely alien and unintelligible to me. I felt like a Tiddlywinks player in a Monopoly game tournament, and I wanted to play.
Midway through lunch, she hoisted the leather bag onto her lap. Through the thick bank of lashes, I watched out of the corner of my eye.
"Brought ya something. Got this years ago and never wore it. It doesn't fit my husband, either. He's too big."
My eyes were the size of Oreos at that statement alone. She casually placed the studded black leather collar in front of me, in full view of everyone. My heart skipped a couple of beats. With clammy, shaking hands, I quickly swiped it off the table, and dropped it on the floor. As I bent to pick it up, my silverware dropped on the other side of the table and attracted more attention. My efforts to be casual were anything but. Tanya was shook with laughter. It was then I started to laugh as well, at the absurd my reaction to her trick. She proved to be adept at pushing my already deeply pressed buttons. My synapses snapped like electricity.
"What is this? A collar? It has metal spikes!" I whispered hoarsely with shock and awe.
I struggled to stuff it in my bag; the spikes inflicted pain.
"It's a subbie collar. You can wear it next time you play with your husband. It's too small for a man."
Her laughter tinkled like water in a glass. Funny, I didn't think she could ever sound like a little girl.
"It was too small for your husband?" I asked, as a smile creeped up on my face.
Suddenly, in unison, we howled and stomped our feet at the thought. Her husband was tall and brawny, a real biker type, not someone who'd wear a subbie collar, by any means, married to a domme or not. I the wiped tears of laughter that streaked down my face. But, I was not finished with my lesson. The lady domme reached into her bag again, the one that held the Bible, whipped out a baton style flogger with leather strips, and laid it on the table next to the questionnaires. That sobered me up quickly. I stared at it. My tears became thick and glazed. She heard my heart thumping.
"Don't worry. Occasionally, I have to use it on myself for a little stimulation, so I keep it handy." she, a little embarrassed at this admission. "I don't have anyone to beat me properly. Would you like to practice?" she asked, in that little girl voice.
