Interview
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Interview With A Mistress free porn video
Interview with a Mistress
By Cassandra Morgan
Me?
He wanted to talk to me? Who did he think he was?
I knew him in college, a long time ago, a different me ago. We had
history together. We didn't make history together, if you know what I
mean.
He's a clinical psychiatrist now. A shrink with a keyboard. He tells me
he is writing an article about dominance in the underground. Sure. There
are a lot of women trying to be what I am. I get that. But most women
can't be. They're just play-acting. You can pick up a whip. You cannot
necessarily make it sing.
And so it was late in the day when I walked into his office. Nice place.
A little manly for my taste. A lot of wood and dead animals, you know? I
supposed that passes for chic in the vanilla world. Stately, even.
I opened the door and walked in. He sat upright, as if he wasn't
expecting me. Typical. A man sends for you, and then he's surprised when
you come. Maybe I would make him pay for that. I smiled at the thought.
"Hello, Anita. How have you been?"
"I'm getting by," I said. "How are you?" I know I gave off the air of
someone who could care less. That was the truth. He was not of my world
these days. I really don't know why I was bothering to talk to him.
"I had a nice visit with Flower," he said. "She thinks very highly of
you."
I looked at him. Of course she does. She's mine. If she didn't think very
highly of me, I'd stripe her flesh. I considered telling him that.
Instead, I just smiled.
"Flower is very precious to me," I said. "Very gentle. A boy who turned
out well, I think."
"Certainly," he said. "She certainly isn't a boy anymore."
I shrugged. I was tired of talking about sissies. She ... was. She didn't
need others talking about her.
"What's on your mind, Phillip?" I said, a bit of impatience showing in my
voice. I didn't like being questioned. She liked being the answer.
"I just want to pay you the courtesy of telling you what we talked about,
Anita."
"It's Mistress, Phillip. I prefer that, if you don't mind. And I doubt
that Flower said anything that I wouldn't approve of, if you want to know
the truth. She is a very loyal pet."
"She's your pet?"
I smiled. "It's a term of endearment. I might call her cupcake, but that
doesn't make her a pastry, does it?
"Mistress, can you tell me how you met?'
I lit a cigarette. I blew the smoke in his direction. It was a typical
move to establish dominance.
"I was slumming," I said. "I went to a drag show. She was prancing on
stage, trying to be Madonna or Lady GaGa or some pop start. I really
don't remember which. Madonna, I think. She danced for me, and then she
followed me home. She knew what I was. She could not wait to be my
sissy."
"Well, you have a very large personality, An...Mistress."
"I suppose that's true. She threw herself at me, as I recall. The love-
making was exquisite. I think I fucked her three times. She was an ass
virgin, you know?"
"She didn't tell me that. She did tell me about the drag show."
"Did she tell you that I had her quit that very night? Drag queens are
such clowns. Oh, not all of them. Some of them are beautiful women who
are trying to live across the gender border. But have you sen the eye
makeup? It can be like the circus in town."
"Why do you think you and Flower were such a fit?"
"I was what she needed," I shrugged. "She needed discipline. She needed
humiliation. She needed to be topped."
"Topped?"
"You know what it means. Mounted. Screwed."
He blushed at my coarseness. Men often do. They are proper creatures when
you get them away from their ballgames and their sports bars. The truth
of it is, I much prefer a sissy to a man and all that bravado. Guys ought
to wear football jerseys with their dick sizes on them. Then they would
have nothing to talk about. They'd just go around reading each other's
numbers.
"Why Flower?" he asked.
"It suits her, don't you think. A flower has no defense when it's under
your heel. Its beauty and its fragrance are lost forever with the
smallest bit of cruelty. I could do that. I choose not to."
"Is the sex with her satisfying?"
"It satisfies me, Phil. I am fairly...adventurous. I like toys. I like
ropes. I like aggression. If Flower didn't like me being like that, I
suppose she would have left long ago. But I give her most of what she
needs, and I find her the rest, her boys. She likes her cock. Did she
tell you that."
"She did. But would you say this is solely a sexual relationship,
Mistress?"
"Oh, by no means. Her essence is mine. She works like a slave. Cooking,
cleaning, doing laundry, scrubbing clothes. She wears a maid's outfit,
not just the nice one I had her wear for you today. But the clothes of an
honest-to-God working maid. And if she works like a slave, well, she
screws like a whore. Orally. Anally. With toys. Whatever I suggest, she
does. No is never said."
"And you keep her in dresses?"
"I do," I said. "Some Mistresses don't. They keep their subs nude, or in
these tiny little leather outfits. More power to them. There are so many
avenues open to a Mistress these days. But the domination is so pure when
you sissify your girl. You can give them breasts. You can take away their
cocks. You can introduce them to guys."
"She said you like to see her with men."
"Yes. I also like sunset and paintings by Wyeth. I love beauty in all of
its forms.."
He was deep in thought now. We were getting to the meat of the subject,
so to speak. I was enjoying this. If I hadn't been, I probably would have
walked out. But no one ever asked me why anymore. I was articulating
things I scarcely thought.
"Do you think Flower is gay?" he asked.
"Gay? Flower? I hadn't thought about it, really. She certainly seems to
like the penis. I think her biggest decision all day is whether to stick
in her mouth or in her ass. But I don't really think of her as gay. I
might sleep with a woman tomorrow. Does that make me a lesbian? Your
labels are so archaic. We are beings of choice. And who we choose to
sleep with is no more important than wearing a red dress or a black one."
I was being deliberately insulting, and we both knew it. I was
establishing my alpha as surely as I was grinding my stiletto into his
hand. I smiled. Maybe later.
"You have shown her off to her former friends," he said.
"I have freed her," I answered. "Her mother, for instance, struggled with
it. She could have taken her son sleeping with men. She could have taken
him wearing women's clothes. But embracing the sissy inside of him. That
was a jolt to her, and she let it be known that she was very disappointed
that she had become Flower. But after that, Flower was unshackled. Her
mother would never hurt her again. I did her a favor."
"Did you do her a favor when you gave her her breasts?"
"Why, yes, doctor," I was genuinely surprised by the question. "Do you
not think that Flower loves her boobs? Ask her if she wants them removed.
Go ahead. She'll say no. She wants them to be bigger, but she will play
with all day if you let her. It is the most womanly part of her. It is
the part that means she can never hide when she goes outside. Look at the
movie stars? Do we love the actresses who have the nicest vaginas? Not
really, because that is hidden. We like the actresses with the giant
tits."
"Did you know that when she was a child, she wore her sisters' clothing?"
"Did she? Well, I'm not surprised. It's nicer clothing than that boy shit
you have on. Are you sure I can't get you into a nice evening gown? Maybe
a bra and panties?"
He smiled. "No thank you, Mistress," he said.
"As you wish. If you change your mind later, please let me know."
"Why a chastity cage?"
"Oh, Flower told you about that? I'm surprised. She is very ashamed of
it. That's one of the hardest ornaments for a sissy to adjust to, you
know. Guys will give up their clothes, and they'll give up their time,
and they'll give up their heterosexuality. But no one wants to give up
their dick,. Which is precisely why they must. Of course, in Flower's
case, it would be, how to do you say it, a small sacrifice."
"Flower said she wasn't exactly well endowed."
"That's the understatement of the year. It's a gloried pimple, if you
want to know the truth. If I ever had sex with her, I'd give my vagina
the night off and just let her used my belly-button. It's funny. She
seems to like it when I tell her how small it is. I think she enjoys
knowing that she isn't much of a man, so she might as well be as much of
a woman as she can be."
"Can I change the subject? She said you pay her. Doesn't that make it
less like a relationship and more like an employer-employee."
I shrugged. "I give her a pittance. I have the money. Why not give her a
bit so she can save for her old age? I hope she saves it. I may tire of
her any day. Mistresses do."
"Tell me. How did you get started as a Mistress. Flower doesn't seem to
know much about you."
"Me? I was the purest vanilla girl in the village. I was Snow White. I
had a boyfriend, and I wanted to have his babies and go to the country
club and drink tea. Later, he would probably have run for City Council or
some such shit. Oh, I was a smart girl. I was opinionated. About
politics, about movies, about life. But when I was dating Paul, I was
your typical arm candy. That was before I went out and got my own."
"What happened?"
"I got smart," she said. "He thought it was his civic duty to fuck every
girl in the sophomore class. He brought home an STD, and then he yelled
at me as if it came from me. But he was the only guy I was ever with.
That night, I pissed on his toothbrush. I cut off the sleeves of his
sports coats. If it had happened today, I would have been Lorena Bobbitt.
Snip, snip."
"You seem very angry."
"He gave me a disease. He embarrassed me. I swore it would never happen
again. So I started screwing around. Men. Women. Threesomes. Finally, I
hooked up with this chick who thought she was a Mistress. One day, she
was telling me what to do, and I thought "You know, I think I could do it
better." And I did. I went through a few sissies before I found the
keeper. It became who I am. I liked spanking my sissies. I liked watching
them have sex with guys. I liked the cock cages. I went through my 20s
mostly pissed off at the male gender."
"Are you gay, Mistress?"
"You think I'm a lesbian? Well, sometimes I am. I like women. They're
softer than men. They smell better. They know how to kiss. But men have
100 percent of the real penises in the world. So why limit ourselves. Why
not have both and a sissy to lick up the spillage? If you are going to be
a queen like a real Mistress, why not? I would be fooling myself to
settle for less."
"Is that why you emasculate sissies like Flower?"
"God no," I said. "I love Flower. I really do. I am hard on Flower
because Flower wants me to be hard on her. She craves my strength, my
will, my fury. She likes it when I spank her. She likes it I bring home a
man, whether he's for her or for me. You have to remember: We are not two
women sharing the cooking. We are a Mistress, and we are a sissy. It is
important to know the difference."
"Flower said she wasn't very good at first."
"My God, she was awful," I said, laughing at the memory. "You ever seen a
linebacker in high heels? She couldn't do her makeup. Her cooking was
like she was trying to poison me. She was a terrible housecleaner. But
she had...something. I've never seen anyone give the way she did. Hours
upon hours, she was the hardest working sissy you've ever seen. I'm very
proud of how far she has come."
"She's very pretty."
"Yes," I said. "She is. And she's at peace with herself. She doesn't mind
sleeping with men these days. She doesn't mind doing chores for my
friends. Hey, I could cook if I had to. I used to clean. But why do it if
there is a perfectly good sissy who is dying to do it? It makes her feel
important. It makes her feel needed."
"Do you love her?"
"Love? I guess so. Maybe. Flower is special. But I'm not ready for her to
match down the aisle for me. Besides, she might stop long enough to blow
both ushers and the Best Man." I laughed. He didn't.
"I still don't quite understand the relationship, I guess."
"It's a symbiosis, Phil," I said. "What are those fish that swim around
the mouths of sharks? I give her what she needs. She gives me what I
need. We give each other our power, our strength."
"But don't you think she deserves your heart, too."
I looked at Phillip. I smiled.
"I see, Phil," I finally said. "You have a thing for my little Flower,
don't you? You want her, don't you."
He looked off into the distance. He wiped his forehead.
"Um, that's silly," he said. "I'm a professional. I don't allow myself
such feelings."
"But you have them, don't you? Tell me: Do you want to take her little
peeny into your mouth? Do you want to pound her ass? Do you want to take
her from all of this and make her a wife?
"Please stop."
But there was no stopping me now. I sensed weakness. I sensed
vulnerability. To let it lie would have gone against my nature. It's like
having a good pair of handcuffs. They're useless unless you use them.
"Or, maybe, you want to join her. Is that it? Do you want to be a sissy,
too? Do you want to be Phyllis? Do you want to clean and cook and blow
guys? Do you want your very own maid's dress?"
"Noooo," he said. It sounded like man falling off a mountain.
"Let's do this, Phyllis. Let's adjourn to my house. You can be with
Flower. You can touch her, and kiss her, and hold her. You can be her
man. Defile her how you want. And then in the morning, when she gets up
to make my breakfast, you can decided if you want to join her or not.
It's fine either way."
He closed his notebook. His head was hung in defeat. This interview would
never turn into an article. It would just be a lost conversation.
"Oh, Phyllis," I said as I walked out of the office.
"I like my eggs sunny-side up."
Blaze
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