Early on Wednesday evening I drove over to Jeff’s house. It was a small single story in an older subdivision and he bought it not long ago. A previous owner had finished the basement back in the 70’s with dark, fake wood paneling, thick shag carpet, and a bar. Old as the house was, it was all in good condition and he used the basement as a rehearsal space.
We’d been playing with the same local cover band for over a year, with him on the bass and me on keyboards. Our set list had slowly been getting outdated and stale. One of the rules our band had was that if a new song was to be learned by the group, two people had to already know it. We had taken it upon ourselves to be the guys that learned new material in advance and presented it to the band later. Wednesday night was when we usually got together to work on stuff.
I let myself in through the unlocked side door, as usual, carrying one of my keyboards in a gig bag down the stairs. There was no need to bring an amplifier because Jeff always had a small PA system set up in the basement. He was down there already and I could hear him playing the bass line for one of the songs we planned to go over. However, I was surprised when I saw him.
“What the hell, man?” I asked, seeing the way he was dressed.
Jeff was sitting on a folding chair over by his amp as I’d expect, but he was wearing this black satin French maid costume, with white lace trim, some black fishnet stockings, and even some black patent shoes with low heels.
“Sorry, man. Mistress Amanda will explain everything,” was all he said. As if on cue, I then heard the steady click of high heels walking across the kitchen floor above.
As she descended the basement stairs, I could see she was wearing a pair of black leather thigh-high boots that laced up the front through maybe a hundred chrome grommets and hooks. A pair of tight black leather shorts with a wide studded leather belt at her waist, and a short sleeve black satin blouse displaying her awesome cleavage completed her outfit.
Mistress Amanda had her long dark hair pulled back in a thick ponytail, as she usually did for play sessions, and was brandishing one of her riding crops. She paused at the bottom of the stairs.
I briefly looked at Jeff once again, this time noticing there were several paddles on the low wooden wire spool that served as a coffee table, and then looked back at Mistress Amanda.
“You will have to excuse your friend,” she said. “He had no idea that I was going to drop in. Sit down,” she ordered, pointing her crop towards an empty folding chair near Jeff.
She normally went by the name Mandy, and had been somewhat of a regular fan of our band. At gigs, she would often show up dressed in black leather and sexy high-heeled boots. At some point when talking with her on one of our breaks, I had made a comment about how she dressed like a dominatrix. Well, it turned out that she did enjoy dominating men, and we had gotten together a few times for play sessions.
It had been a fantasy of mine for a long time to be spanked by a dominant woman, worship her boots, and maybe some other stuff. Up until meeting her I had only been able to get one former girlfriend to spank me with a ping pong paddle, but she wasn’t into it, refused to wear any special outfits for that, and it had always been disappointing.
My sessions with Mandy, or Mistress Amanda, as she insisted on being called for those occasions, had been intense to say the least. She would paddle my bare ass until I couldn’t take any more, and then order me to lick her spike-heeled boots while my bottom cooled off so I could take more swats.
While it had been great to finally live that fantasy, it couldn’t last. Mistress Amanda liked to play rough, and I could only take so much. It had been a mutual decision that we wouldn’t do sessions together anymore.
“Not long after we parted ways,” she explained. “I was approached by your friend, Jeffery.” She poked the leather tip of her riding crop at his chest, and what was likely a padded bra underneath his maid’s uniform.
“It seems he had overheard us chatting about sessions, or maybe just picked up bits of conversations and figured out the sort of fun we were having. It turns out that he also fantasized about being dominated by a strong woman. When he realized we were no longer seeing each other, he introduced himself. We’ve had a lot of fun over the past few weeks, haven’t we, my pet?” She firmly pinched one of Jeff’s cheeks.
“Yes, Mistress Amanda,” he said obediently, though he winced in pain.
“So you naughty little boys like to be spanked. You’re fascinated by women in high heels, or you like being dressed up in girly clothes, but you never think about my fantasies,” she let her words uncomfortably hang in the air.
“Well, I like musicians. Their minds are so… creative. So… naughty,” she traced the tip of her riding crop under my chin. “Now that I know of two submissive men, both musicians, and I knew when you would be getting together, I decided to show up and take charge. I want you two boys to play for me. A command performance!”
She suddenly looked me in the eye, and then prodded me under my chin with the tip of her riding crop.
“Now you listen to me, Christopher. You know that I like to play rough, and for anything long-term we may not be compatible. However, all I want is for you little boys to play a few songs for me. I don’t think that’s too unreasonable,” she mocked.
“Jeffery here tells me that since it’s just you two boys, not a full band, you are going to have to work on arrangements or something first,” she said, caressing his fake breasts with her riding crop. ”I’ll give you one hour to prepare. You will both get a spanking after the show, regardless of how good it is. However, the better it is, the easier I will be on your little bottoms. I don’t even care how many songs you play. The emphasis should be on quality, not quantity. Do you understand?!”
“Yes, Mistress Amanda,” we both replied, jumping slightly at the raised tone in her voice.
“Christopher!” She was staring me down again. “Jeffery is my loyal slave. You’re the wildcard and I’ve considered you might chicken out. Now he’s willing to do a solo act, but what I really want this evening, is both of you.” There was an awkward silence.
“Perhaps you two want to discuss this in private before making your decision,” she suggested. “I’m going to go upstairs and smoke a cigarette while you naughty little boys talk it over.”
As she walked towards the stairs she looked back over her shoulder.
“Oh, Jeffery, show Christopher the outfit that I want him to wear,” she said, laughing as she walked upstairs.
Jeff, almost apologetically, handed me a plastic shopping bag that had been on the floor beside his amplifier. It contained a short plaid skirt, a skimpy sheer white top, and some tall white stockings. A slutty schoolgirl costume.
“Man, she showed up about an hour before you got here. She knew this was our usual practice night. Had me change into this,” Jeff said, gesturing to his French maid costume. “Maybe I’ve worn this for her before, but that’s not important.”
“Yeah, she was always trying to get me to dress up for her but I wasn’t sure how I felt about that and never did it,” I said.
“Listen, don’t get hung up on the clothes,” Jeff tried to reassure me. “All we have to do is obey her. Play a couple tunes for her, and give her the fantasy she wants. Yeah, she’s going to paddle us, but you’ve been through that before and everything will be fine.”
I could hear Mistress Amanda’s high-heeled boots periodically click on the kitchen floor upstairs, and could picture her leaning against the counter, smoking her cigarette.
I remembered a time back when I was almost nineteen years old and a friend’s mom caught us in their basement splitting a can of warm beer. She threatened to whip both of us with her belt. The fact that we were adults didn’t matter to her, and she went upstairs to have a smoke while she thought it over. She had been a strict woman and I think she still whipped my friend even though he was a young adult. That tension back then, it had the same flavor.
“If you want to take off, go ahead,” Jeff told me. “But I’m supposed to convince you to stay. She told me that if you left, she was going to punish me. Something painful and degrading was all she said. You know what she might have in mind?” He sounded sincere, and nervous. We heard Mistress Amanda walking towards the top of the stairs.
Painful and degrading. I told Jeff I had no idea what his fate might be. She and I hadn’t had all that many sessions together.
“We’ll both play for you,” I told Mistress Amanda when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Her face lit up with a big smile, and I think I heard Jeff sigh with relief.
“In that case you need to change into your slutty little outfit,” she ordered. “It didn’t come with any panties so you will have to go commando, and there is no time to fit you with a pair of high heels. I’ll leave you two bitches to practice, but first I think you need some incentive to do a good job.”
She picked up a paddle from the table. It was a long, wide, thick wooden paddle with a bunch of holes drilled in it. Possibly the most brutal paddle in the collection.
“I know this is your favorite paddle,” Mistress Amanda told me with heavy sarcasm, just to watch me squirm. “You need to take those jeans off right now!”
At that moment I might have had some second thoughts about the command performance, but kicked off my shoes and started to unbuckle my belt. I was somewhat relieved that she walked over to Jeff first.
He had wasted no time in bending over his chair and pulling down a pair of white ruffled panties. Mistress Amanda pulled up the back of his maid’s dress, revealing that Jeff was also wearing a black lace garter belt. His big hairy ass was already a bright shade of pink.
While I wasn’t surprised that Mistress Amanda had evidently spanked him not long ago, I wasn’t sure if it had been to encourage him to do the command performance, change into his maid’s dress, or what.
Mistress Amanda landed a heavy swat across his buttocks, followed by a second one. Loud, deep smacks. I knew how bad that paddle could hurt, but Jeff took the pain in silence. Suddenly Mistress Amanda looked at me. I’d frozen, watching her paddle Jeff, with my jeans just down below my waist.
“Christopher! I told you to get those jeans off!” she scolded. Then she walked over to me, grabbed the waistband of my boxer shorts, and yanked them down to my ankles along with my jeans.
“Bend over,” she ordered. I tried to get into position, my clothes tangled at my feet. When I had bent over my chair, she swatted me with the paddle. I gave a low grunt of pain.
“You will be dressed as the school girl, so this schoolhouse paddle is appropriate for you,” she taunted, giving my ass another firm swat. I know she could have easily spanked me harder, and realized she wasn’t swatting me as hard as she had Jeff. I was surprised she didn’t paddle us some more. Instead, she had us kneel in front of her and ordered us to lick her boots while promising to put on a good show for her.
It felt a little awkward, there on the floor next to Jeff, licking one of Mistress Amanda’s boots while he licked the other. While I can enjoy a spanking within reason, licking the boots of a real dominatrix was a thrill every time. I like to give long strokes with my tongue on the smooth black leather, while Jeff gave a bunch of small licks like a dog drinking from a bowl of water.
“I’ll play my best for you, Mistress Amanda,” I promised after worshiping her boots. Jeff groveled a bit more and referred to her as a powerful goddess, which I thought was a little over the top, but she seemed to like it. Then she took a step back from us.
“You have one hour to practice. Get to work!” Mistress Amanda ordered, turning away and then going up the stairs. Her ass looked amazing in those sprayed-on leather shorts.
Jeff brought me back to reality. He picked up a set list from a recent gig. Since he’d had time to think before I’d shown up, he’d already been making plans in his head.
While he read off what songs he thought we could do, I took the schoolgirl costume out of the shopping bag and started to put it on. It might have been a one size fits all, but the skirt was so short it barely covered my ass and the bulge of my cock was clearly visible in front. The top had short puffy sleeves that were a tight fit on my arms. There were no buttons and it seemed it was meant to be tied in front for an extra slutty look. The white knee-high stockings felt strange and somewhat tingly on my hairy legs.
Although our band had a long list of songs that we covered, there were surprisingly few that we thought we could pull off well as a duo. We had a lady in our band that played a little bit of guitar but also sang lead on about one-third of our material. All of those songs were out. The band also did some stuff that had elaborate guitar solos or had other things happening musically, and those were out of the question as well.
As I was setting up my keyboard, we had cut the list down to only a handful of songs that we thought we could cover. Bad as that sounded, a few advantages we had were that Jeff was a decent guitar player, and I knew enough guitar to be dangerous, giving us some versatility. He had an electric guitar down there in his basement, along with a cheap, beat-up acoustic. Sometimes we played along with a drum machine when learning songs and briefly considered using that for our performance as sort of a third instrument, but then decided not to.
We talked over different arrangements where he would play guitar instead of bass, and maybe do something with me on the acoustic guitar instead of keys. A short setlist seemed to be coming together but there was still one major problem. Neither of us sang lead on anything our band played. During a normal show, we threw in bits and pieces of backing vocals and that was it.
“Musically we can probably pull this off,” I said optimistically. “Vocally though, I just don’t know. It might be pretty rough. She might paddle the shit out of us,” I said nervously, looking at the small collection of paddles on the wire spool table. Jeff was concerned about that as well. We started to quietly compare notes on our experiences with Mandy, but realized that time was running out and we had to focus on practicing.
Some songs came together better than others. My acoustic guitar playing was worse than I remembered. We wrote down a lot of notes to keep everything straight. It also seemed like we wasted a bunch of time moving equipment around and setting things up in front of the old sectional sofa. Jeff insisted it was the smart thing to do because Mandy would probably want to sit there while we played.
I’d been stealing nervous glances at a clock on the wall behind the little bar that was back in an alcove under the stairs. I suspect that Jeff had been doing the same. Almost an hour and a half had passed and Mandy, or should I say Mistress Amanda, hadn’t come downstairs. We were a little surprised at that.
Maybe she was being generous, allowing more time. Demanding as she could be, Mistress Amanda could be kind enough to do that for us. It was also possible that she just wanted to stress us out by letting the anxiety of performing for her build-up. She would enjoy that. Then the doorbell rang.
“Holy shit!” Jeff exclaimed.
“You expecting anyone?” I asked.
He said he wasn’t. It might be some neighbor dropping by at random. Then we heard the front door open, the sound of ladies’ voices, and Mistress Amanda greeting them. I thought I heard them being invited inside, and soon there was the sound of multiple pairs of high heels clicking on the floor above.
Jeff nervously approached the basement stairs and called up.
“Mandy. Who is here?”
I could hear her approaching the top of the stairs.
“That’s Mistress Amanda to you! I invited a few guests to the show. I thought that neither of you would mind,” her voice trailed off into laughter.
I’d been so focused on the music, now once again I was self-conscious about being dressed in some skimpy girly outfit. Being dominated by a woman is my personal private fantasy and as far as I’m concerned the fewer people that knew about it the better.
Jeff looked visibly stressed as well. Mistress Amanda hadn’t mentioned any guests earlier. Who had she invited?
It’s tough to say if I was angry, frightened, or maybe a little of both. I glanced at the pile of my clothes over by the wall. There probably wasn’t time to change and then make an escape. I could grab my clothes and run out the side door at the top of the stairs, giving the other ladies only a quick look at me, if even that. My pickup truck was parked in the driveway and was probably blocked in now. It would be dark outside though, so I could change into my clothes in Jeff’s backyard with some privacy, and figure out driving off later.
Then I heard Mistress Amanda at the top of the stairs and knew there would be no escape. She instructed the ladies to leave their cell phones on the kitchen counter, saying that there would be no photos or video taken, and something about bachelorette party rules. What happens at the party, stays at the party. That comforted me to a small extent. Mistress Amanda led them down the stairs.
“Now as you know, men always like for their women to dress up in slutty little outfits, so I thought it would be fun for them to dress up for us and see what it’s like,” she explained.
The first lady behind her gave a few laughs as she came into view. It was Jan. Both she and her boyfriend came to see the band regularly, but I didn’t know much else about them other than they rode a Harley Davidson. That might be why she was wearing some black leather chaps, with a matching motorcycle jacket, and some boots with low blocky heels.
The second guest was Tammy, who was carrying a box of wine, and she squealed with laughter when she saw the way Jeff and I were dressed. She’s a hot little blonde and was looking really sexy in a black leather mini skirt, lacy cami top, and some black leather spike-heeled ankle boots.
Tammy followed the band as well and might be considered a groupie because she’s been in the sack with two guys in the band, and possibly more. Smoking hot as she looked, I was not thrilled to see her, just because she seemed kind of dingy and I didn’t think she could keep her mouth shut about this.
Then the final woman came down the stairs. Holding a thick red and black riding crop, she was wearing black leather thigh-high boots that were wrapped with several buckled straps and had tall heels. Dominatrix boots. Her pants might have been spandex or something like that. Leather-looking, black, and sprayed on. Her tits looked amazing, molded into this bustier style tank top, made of dark red satin and black leather.
I didn’t know what her name was. She looked a bit older than me, and had a few extra pounds on her though it was well-proportioned. Long, auburn hair, always wore what looked like designer glasses, I’d seen her at gigs before with Mistress Amanda. Her friend, maybe a relative. She always seemed to have an eye for me, but we had only spoken a few words with each other, if any.
Since all of them were wearing some black leather and boots with heels, I thought that might have been a request by Mistress Amanda, so they would have a dominatrix look. Jan’s boyfriend was a big biker dude and it was tough for me to imagine her whipping his ass. Tammy looked like she was dressed up for a night at a club.
This third lady though, the way she was dressed, knowing she had some connection to Mistress Amanda, and never having seen that red and black riding crop among her collection, she could easily be another dominatrix. Perhaps that meant more trouble for Jeff and I.
The unknown dominatrix walked boldly up to me and lifted the front of my skirt. She pointed out my modest endowment to the other ladies. While they laughed, she told me in a low voice,
“I can work with that.”
Then someone else had lifted up the front of Jeff’s maid’s dress. I’m not sure what got a better laugh, the fact that he was wearing frilly panties, or that he seemed to be getting aroused.
“Bring us some wine glasses,” Mistress Amanda ordered. Jeff pulled away from the group of women and started to head behind the bar. “Bring me a bar stool,” she told me, pointing to a spot next to the old couch. Jan and the other dominatrix began looking over the selection of paddles nearby.
When they had all been served glasses of wine and were settled in on the couch, Mistress Amanda stood in front of them. She explained that we would play some songs, and then they would all have the opportunity to spank us with the paddles.
“If their performance isn’t any good, make sure you let them know it,” she instructed. “Keep in mind that these little boys are naughty perverts and enjoy being spanked, so if they do well, give them a spanking they will enjoy.”
“Does that mean we have to jerk them off?” Tammy asked. I think we all laughed at that.
“Certainly not,” Mistress Amanda said with a roll of her eyes. She then took her seat of authority on the bar stool next to the couch and pointed to Jeff and I with her riding crop. “You may start at any time.”
We opened the show with a song that was always a crowd-pleaser when our band covered it, thinking that would be a smart decision. Jeff was on the electric guitar and backing vocals for that one, and I sang lead while playing keys. Although the vocals were rough and instrumentally it didn’t sound as full as I’m used to hearing it, judging by the expressions on the ladies' faces, and their positive reactions when we kicked off the song, we seemed to have a good start.
That song has a really elaborate guitar solo at the end that Jeff wasn’t even going to attempt, so we just left that out and repeated the final chorus a second time. The ladies didn’t seem to miss the solo.
We had this little chord progression worked out at the end to segue into the second song, which was in a different key. It seemed we had wasted a lot of time working on that earlier, and we stumbled through it at best.
The second number has been almost as popular as the first, and also got a positive reaction from the ladies. Jeff took the lead vocals on the second verse, which had this high note in it that there was no way I could hit. He did okay.
That song has a distinctive guitar solo near the end. Maybe not a complicated one, and Jeff thought he could pull off a simplified version of it. I’d say he only did a fair job, but the ladies seemed to be blown away by it, maybe just because he gave it a shot.
We got some good applause from our small audience. Tammy, sounding a little drunk on her wine, shouted out for another popular song that our band covers, while Jeff put down his electric guitar and picked up the acoustic.
The third number we played wasn’t in our band’s repertoire. It was a classic rock song that Jeff had learned back when he was first starting to play. I just did some light piano in the background so it would have that unplugged feel to it.
The vocals were in Jeff’s range and he sounded pretty good on those. Musically I thought we covered it well too, and it might have been the most polished-sounding tune we’d played so far.
For the last song of our set, Jeff was back on the electric guitar and I sang the lead vocals. It wasn’t a really popular song when our band covered it, but it was really upbeat and we thought it would make a strong closer.
As planned, we both did some improvised solos near the end, sort of trading back and forth, using some visual cues we had worked up in advance. Our improvisational skills left something to be desired, although the ladies seemed to enjoy the music.
It was at that point I realized I had forgotten about the way I was dressed and was actually having a good time. There was some real satisfaction in having put together a halfway decent show under pressure and on such short notice.
When the song ended, we told the ladies that was all we had prepared. They wanted to hear more. Mistress Amanda didn’t believe the show was over, though we insisted those were the only songs we had.
“I heard you little boys working on other songs. Give us an encore,” she demanded, getting off her bar stool and brandishing her riding crop. That got the other ladies agitated and they also became more demanding.
Now the truth is we had plans for a few encores, just in case this situation came up. As we pulled out the notes we’d made for our other songs, Mistress Amanda walked over.
“Well, look here. It seems these two naughty boys told us they were done, when they really had an encore all planned out,” she said as if disappointed, though I think she was somewhat impressed that we still had more material to play.
“Perhaps we should take a short break here,” Mistress Amanda said, walking over to the wire spool table and handing paddles to the ladies. “We need to let them know how we’ve enjoyed the show so far.”
We tried to protest but Jeff was taken off to one side by Mistress Amanda and Tammy. I was somewhat thrilled to be paired with the unknown dominatrix, although she was wielding the schoolhouse paddle and her riding crop.
Jan was holding a small, thick, black leather paddle, and walking over to me as well. Unlike Tammy, who was giving Jeff’s bare ass a few timid swats with a ping pong paddle, these two ladies looked imposing and confident.
“Take off your skirt, bitch,” The unknown dominatrix commanded. They had me backed into a corner behind my keyboard. I was actually a little scared, but aroused as well, maybe you know what that’s like. Even before I dropped my skirt I’m sure they could tell that my penis was about halfway erect.
They just snickered, took me by my shoulders, and turned me around to face the wall.
“The safe word is, mercy please,” the unknown dominatrix said, before landing a firm swat of the wooden paddle across my buttocks.
Jan stood on the opposite side of me and her leather paddle made a loud and painful smack on my right butt cheek.
The schoolhouse paddle boomed across my ass once more, and I gave a gasp of pain.
“That’s a little rough, isn’t it?” asked the unknown dominatrix, lightly stroking my long hair. I wasn’t sure if she was taunting me or asking a serious question.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said meekly, not knowing what title she preferred to be called.
The only reply was from Jan, whose leather paddle smacked firmly on the left cheek of my ass.
They continued spanking me, alternating one swat from each. The pain, it was maybe just the right amount sometimes, but other swats were right on the edge. I just wanted to tough it out for them as I stared at the dark, fake wood paneling on the basement wall, tears starting to creep into my eyes.
I was vaguely aware of Mistress Amanda giving Jeff a hard paddling, and trying to coach Tammy to do the same. She was squealing with excitement, but also shocked that Jeff seemed to enjoy it. That probably would have been funny to watch, but I was too preoccupied with my own ass getting spanked by two ladies that knew what they were doing, and also enjoyed their roles.
Mistress Amanda then said it was time for us to play our encore. I was relieved the spanking was over. I was also somewhat embarrassed that my modest-sized cock was now fully erect and oozing pre cum. I tried to put on the skimpy plaid skirt as quickly as I could, even though it did little to conceal it. The unknown dominatrix watched me with a satisfied smile.
The first encore song usually went over pretty well when our band played it. For our arrangement, Jeff was on the bass and I was on the acoustic guitar. We shared the lead vocals since it is supposed to be a harmony part, and I’ll admit it was rough, though we were able to work the name Mistress Amanda into the lyrics, and that seemed to please her.
Jeff did this slap bass solo near the end, and we repeated the last chorus a few times, daring to improvise a few final lyrics, just to milk it out a bit longer. I thought my acoustic guitar playing came together pretty well near the end, but the important part is that the ladies enjoyed the song.
The second and final encore just happened to be the song that Tammy had requested earlier. She was thrilled and cheered when we started it off. I had passed the acoustic guitar to Jeff for that song and I was back on the keys.
Of all the songs we had worked on, I have to admit this was the worst one as far as our performance went. Maybe if we’d had a bit more time we could have been more solid on it.
The original plan had been to skip the guitar solo, which is normally played on the electric. Maybe Jeff was caught up in the moment or something, because he dared to improvise something instead of going straight to the bridge like we’d planned.
That threw me off and I stumbled on the rhythm part, eventually playing the right chords, while Jeff was sloppily playing a solo, knowing he was crashing and burning.
I called out to him to just go into the last chorus, which he did, maybe happy to be out of the solo, and we just ended with the final chords of the song after that.
Rough as that last song had been, the ladies applauded and gave a few cheers. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was they were thrilled to get their encore.
Now of course they shouted for a few more songs. We told them that was all we had. Tammy was shouting for another popular one we played with the band. Mistress Amanda had gotten off her bar stool and was leafing through all of our notes and lyric sheets, her riding crop tucked underneath one arm.
At last, they seemed convinced that we were out of material. Mistress Amanda said something about a finale and that we would be given a few more swats. I was not thrilled about that at all because my butt was still hurting.
The unknown dominatrix gave me an evil grin as she got up off the couch and pointed to a spot along the wall where I assumed she wanted me to stand. I begged quietly for her to be merciful, explaining that I was still sore, but I offered no resistance and obediently stood facing the wall, dropping my skirt around my ankles without being ordered to do so, hoping my submission might win some favor with her.
Although I was in position, she had stopped by the wire spool table and was taking her time selecting a paddle, maybe just to build the tension. I just stared at the paneling on the wall, waiting to tough out the spanking best I could.
Mistress Amanda was accusing Jeff of stalling for time, not putting down his guitar, and that attracted the attention of the other two ladies. He was begging not to be paddled, but I could tell he was just fooling around. I’m pretty sure he was thrilled at the chance to be dominated by three ladies at once.
The unknown dominatrix began to swat me with an erratic rhythm that kept me off guard. All paddles have a different feel and sound. This one was quiet but the impact was painful and I flinched each time it landed on my sore buttocks.
“I’ll lick your boots,” I offered. “I’ll make them really clean,” I begged her, just because I needed a break. Thankfully the spanking stopped.
“I trained this one and still have a claim on him,” it was Mistress Amanda talking to the unknown dominatrix. “Don’t get too attached to him,” I heard Mistress Amanda tell her as if it were a warning.
Then Tammy was squealing, saying that things were getting out of hand. Jan was using the schoolhouse paddle, landing heavy swats on Jeff’s buttocks, which were a deep shade of red. He was crying out in pain, but still asking her for more.
Mistress Amanda walked back over to Jeff and before long our spankings were over. We were ordered to pour the ladies fresh glasses of wine, but were also allowed to pour glasses for ourselves. Jeff turned on the stereo and it was more of a regular party atmosphere after that.
At one point when Mistress Amanda was preoccupied with something, the unknown dominatrix handed me a scrap of paper and a pen, instructing me to write down my cell phone number for her. I did as I was told, but was a little nervous about it since Mandy had confronted her during my spanking. In fact, I didn’t even dare to ask what her name was.
Mandy seemed to think of me as her slave even though we had stopped playing together. Although the two women seemed to be friends, I now had the impression that Mistress Amanda was a bit territorial when it came to submissive men.
When I drove home later that night, I was feeling great, aside from my sore bottom. If you’re a musician and you’ve played a good gig, your mind is riding high on that for a while afterwards, and it was that sort of feeling.
That command performance turned out to have some positive effects. Jeff and I would continue learning new songs to present to the band. However, thanks to our crash course in working up creative arrangements, songs that we had previously thought the band couldn’t cover, maybe something musically or vocally, we figured out ways around those difficulties.
Also, while Jeff and I had always gotten along well, I had thought of him only as a good coworker. After the command performance, he became a good friend, and those are tough to come by. I suppose the fact that we knew about each other’s kinky private lives and had that in common had a lot to do with that. Stressful and even painful as the command performance had been, after the fact we both agreed it had been a good time.
About the supposed bachelorette party rules that night, and what happens at the party stays at the party, some information leaked out. I suspect it was Tammy that blabbed, and in the usual rumor mill tradition, the information was twisted and exaggerated as the stories were passed.
There were a few times when band members or other people told either Jeff or myself something like, I heard that you played some drag show last month. Possibly the wildest rumor was that one of us had picked up some lady at a bar and she took us to some underground S & M club, where we were tortured by women all night. We just brushed off those rumors best we could, saying it never happened.
The unknown dominatrix and Mistress Amanda, I would be involved with them in the near future, and there was some drama between those two alpha females as a result.
Perhaps that story will be written some other time.
