What I Did This Summer...

After seeing many enticing ads in magazines such as this one, I finally gave in to my curiosity and checked out the “B&D scene,” resulting in one of the major disappointments of my sexual history. Thinking “Breasts & Derrieres? That’s exactly what I like! I get it... specialization.” I called the number in the ad, and a sexy voice gave me directions to a bewitching vixen calling herself Mistress Dominique's place of business.

I paid for a 30-minute session and descended a flight of stairs to a cool, damp basement lit only with torches attached to the stone walls. A small, hard wooden bench sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by odd objects which were totally unfamiliar to me. Then Dominique entered. Clad in a revealing leather miniskirt, tall black boots and a kind of half-necklace/half-halter top made entirely of chains, she exuded a musky, aromatic mix of sweat and leather.

Dominique strode purposefully up to me, carrying a riding crop. “I know exactly what you’re here for,” she began, but I cut her off.

“I’m not looking for a psychic, I want tits & ass,” I offered in what I believed to be a friendly enough tone.

“Silence, worm!” she shouted, “You will get what I choose to give you, and only as a reward for obedience!” She flicked her crop like a whip and hit me good and sharp in the crotch. Like, I was gonna pay money for this? I could get treatment like this for free at some meat-market dance club.

“Whoa there, little lady,” I began. “You’re here to help me give the old equipment a good workout, not damage it for the next user.”

She glared at me long and hard, her nostrils flaring.

“So, the little shit wants to be made to obey?” she said, and began to bring up the riding crop again. “You must atone for your insolence.” As the crop went back for another whiplike movement, I blocked and held her wrist. A stunned and puzzled look took over her sharp and striking features.

“Listen here, young lady,” I announced in a near-shout. “I don’t believe in settling things with violence, but if I have to defend myself, I’ll dislocate that shoulder as I take this little toy away from you and then you won’t be hurting anybody with it for some time.”

Her face immediately assumed a blank expression which suddenly made her look plain and out-of-place in her outfit. “Oh man,” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry, I’m just getting started and I assumed you wanted the submissive role. I should have asked up front, but...”

I cut her off. “Well, if you’re new to this kind of thing, Dominique, or Muffy, or whatever the hell your real name is, let me give you a little advice. There’s a little thing called customer service and I suggest you learn about it real quick. Until you start treating the customer better, you’re never gonna get enough business to afford to put some proper furniture in this place.”

I visited Dominique (whose real name, I found out later, was Heather) a few weeks later, and she proved to be a warm, enjoyable young woman. Too bad she got busted for prostitution. I thought she was on to a good thing, but what do I know? I’m only the customer, right?

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