On Becoming Miss Louisa Harper of New York and Newport 6
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It took the next six weeks to again read all the texts Uncle Bert had arranged for me to read. With Andy and Mary around, I did not spend full time reading, of course. But, I did spend a great deal of time on them. I was very pleased Uncle Bert had programmed me for higher and greater intellectual and memory capacities. From the heavy instruction Andy and I received from Father O’Brien in Santa Fe, and, from all the books, my view of humanity from a religious - philosophical - ethical - intellectual perspective had been greatly changed. That is what Uncle Bert wanted. I guess what surprised me most was I had considered myself a very well educated individual, but I was not well educated. I was well trained in the sciences. There is much to be said for a liberal arts education.
All the arrangements to receive training from America’s two sex queens were made during those six weeks.
It was on to New York.
I suspect you readers are not really interested in how I spent two weeks in the hands of the world’s leading domantrix learning, shall we say, to give and to receive, but I will tell you a little about it anyway.
Andy and I flew into Newark, now New York City’s leading airport, grabbed a limo, and rode into Manhattan. New York is the world’s city. It is so full of life and energy that driving into it is exciting. Andy had never been there, so she was particularly in awe and energized. We registered at our hotel and unpacked.
Andy was glowing, dancing around the room, her eyes bright and shiny. She waltzed to me, put her arms around my neck and leaned against me to be kissed which I happily did. I wrapped my arms around, letting my hands drop to caress her ass. (If I wrote every time my hands found her ass, this whole thing would be one big ass grab. But, while I did it a lot, I will only write it occasionally.)
“Davy, this is so wonderful! It feels like ... like a honeymoon!”
She froze and a fearful, questioning expression came over he face.
“Davy, please, I did not mean...”
I had not yet programmed a woman, or a man, for that matter. I was really flying blind as to how it was actually done and the impact of it. And, I was not the one who programmed Andy or Mary or any of the other 3,000 women Uncle Bert left me. I was unsure of how it was done in general and how Uncle Bert had done it, specifically. Was Andy programmed to reveal her true feelings to me? By that, I mean those feelings she would have had if she had not been programmed. Or, were her only feelings those which had been programmed in her, so they became her true feelings? Or, was it a combination of the two set in some way by Uncle Bert to give me the best of both worlds?
I had many questions about the control, the programming. One thing I had learned was to control the programming I had received which affected my cock. Getting hard on command, staying hard forever, and orgasming without ejaculating were delightful, no doubt about that. But, seeing or touching a special woman and having her cause the special twitch in my pants was even more delightful. I had set myself to respond naturally which I did in this case, causing my intellectual ruminations about the programming to take back seat to the woman in my arms.
“Oh, Davy,” she whispered as I began to undress her. “I love you so much.”
Sometime later, we ordered room service. The next morning we started our lessons.
When I used the name of Uncle Bert to register at the domination castle, I got the head lady herself and not an assistant. I wondered how much time Uncle Bert had spent there to receive such first class treatment. Then, I wondered, since he was really my father, if the love of B&D was genetic or environmental.
Mistress Diana, as she called herself, was a British woman with a beautiful accent. She was a giant, standing about six three, not including the six inch heels she always wore, which made her six nine and taller than most NBA players. She had a body like a Barbie doll except on a larger scale. My guess she was 46EE - 34 - 47. She obviously worked out a lot because it was all muscle except for those watermelons on her chest. I could not tell what her face looked like since she wore a mask. Overall, she was very impressive.
She wore what I would call fetish clothing, in this case, PVC. On her it looked great. In fact, I got the name of her clothier and bought Andy a few things. Well, I bought Andy and me a lot, actually, but, I will cover that later.
When we first saw her, she was dressed all in black except a red glove on her right hand. In that glove she had a whip. A large, black whip with a red tip. She had on a black PVC cat suit covering her from neck to ankle except her breasts and pussy, which were bare. I mean bare. She had on a mask that covered her face except for her lips and eyes. Her eyes were a wild emerald green, effectively reinforced by the use of emerald eye makeup. Her lips were painted bright red, matching the glove and whip tip. She had painted the lips of her pussy and her nipples the same red. Very effective use of color.
It dawned on me she was big enough to do real damage with that whip. For a moment, fear paralyzed me and I wondered if Uncle Bert had messed this one up. Probably not. Knowing him, Mistress Diana was one of the 3,000 women he had enslaved. I had to know.
“Do you prefer sirloin or tube steak?” I asked as she towered over me. Her eyes got soft.
“It depends on the chef.”
Oh, yes! She was programmed. That lowered my anxiety level a lot. “What does your pussy prefer?” I asked. “It prefers following your commands,” she replied. Slowly, gracefully, she knelt before me. It was like watching a giant redwood fall to the ground, except redwoods don’t have hourglass figures. She was the first of the “other” women Uncle Bert had programmed who I encountered. I wondered if they all would kneel, or if Uncle Bert had given her a special instruction because of her height.
Mei
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