The Feedback Survey

[ConsentOptional]

Another tawdry daydream.  Kind of long, but hopefully the keywords help you decide whether to check or skip.  It was  triggered by this post, speculating on a dominatrix observing me being professional and composed and absolutely seeing through it.

 

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For the shy and socially reserved types out there - the trick to these meetings is that they're all the same meeting.  Few variations.  Looks hard, but isn't.  Prepare an agenda, read it a few times, stop thinking about it.  Attendees are people from the firm and maybe some outside consulting companies.  While there's a full room, only a few are crucial.  Get a sense of the room, go at a good clip, finish on time.  No one will see the other you or even suspect there is one.

 

Today was different.  I didn't know if she was maybe a consultant?  Someone from another firm?  Just happened to be at that hotel during the conference?  I can usually tell.  But I couldn't this time.  Her authority didn't emanate from the usual sources.  She was also one of those women who managed to make professional attire disturbingly hot.  But it was her eyes that overpowered.  It felt like she could instantly read any unacceptable thought that popped in my head - and they were coming in waves.  I did the only thing I knew how to do - reminded myself that she was too young and uber-sultry to have any interest in me and then avoided looking at her.

 

This seemed to work tolerably  well.  Since she insisted on sitting toward the front, I had to brace myself every time she crossed her legs in that dress.  My hopes soon faded that she would diddle with her phone constantly, like most girls would who were as stunning as she and sitting through a fiduciary policy presentation.  Instead I sensed her studying me.  Not the material I was presenting, but me.  Like something pinned to her dissection table.  But I pressed ahead, trying to lose myself in the material and the task at hand.

 

When it was finally time for Q&A, she waited til everyone had finished.  Then, when it was completely quiet, she asked if I was available for "private instruction."  Avoiding the devouring vacuum of her eyes, I looked slightly past her as a blind man might when answering in the direction of a voice.  I said arrangements could be made with the firm for individualized presentations to small groups.  She corrected, "No, I meant are you open to receiving private instruction.  One on one."   

 

My mouth went dry.  I reached for my water and spilled it, which fortunately created enough of a diversion to end the presentation.  People started shuffling out and I reminded them to fill out their feedback surveys. 

 

Two remained at the end.  She and an unconscionable nerd.  I was thankful for him and his potato-headed earnestness.  I answered all his questions and some he hadn't even thought of, hoping she would get bored and leave in the meantime.  She didn't.  The over-indulged nerd left at last and we were alone. 

 

I busied myself to the point of theatrics packing my papers and laptop.  "You didn't answer my question about private instruction."  Trying to keep things general and corporate I managed to say, "Well, I'm always open to learn new material.  It would depend on the course.  Feel free to leave a brochure or website with your feedback."

 

I gave her a completely idiotic nod and smile and attempted to leave.  She dropped her gloves as I passed.  "Could you get those?"  Her voice was a kind of narcotic honey.  I dropped to the ground without realizing it.  As I reached for the gloves, she stepped on them with her black spiked sandal.  "How do you like these shoes?"  My mouth was dry again.  In my mind her shoes were glowing with an intense debilitating fetish power.  But they somehow went with that dress.  "V-very n.  Nice.  Very.  Both."  It was barely english.  She was pleased with what a wreck she had reduced me to and continued.  "It's not what I would wear for your private instruction of course.  Then again, you would be dressed differently as well.  Slut." 

 

She lifted my chin with her hand and looked through my eyes to the back of my head.  "Mmm, yes.  I was right about you."  As she released my face to take her gloves she scratched my neck and cheek.  My first marks by her hand.  Something fluttered to the floor.  It was a black shiny business card with red script lettering that said simply, "Your Goddess."  There was a phone number on the back.  I watched her perfect ass drift toward the door and out.

 

It took several hours to compose myself.  But I reminded myself that she was just a cat playing with a mouse.  She was having fun at my expense.  It was mean really, playing with someone who would never be part of her world.  I felt sufficiently renewed to read the feedback cards.

 

Most were the usual crap.  Longer please, shorter please, talk more about my little problem please.  Etc, etc.  Overall positive as usual.  I left hers for last.  I knew it was hers because it was scented with her perfume.

 

What part did you find most beneficial?  The presenter kneeling in front of me.  He looks very natural this way.  He is confused about it, but we both know it.  I could see it in his eyes.

 

What part was least beneficial?  The presenter avoided eye contact when I asked about instructing him.  He knows better than that.  It will be addressed later.  Firmly, I'm afraid.

 

What would have made the presentation better?  The presenter should have been locked in chastity and wearing panties.  But this can easily be corrected.  And will be.

 

Other comments.  Hello again my little fool.  Were you able to stop thinking about me?  Rhetorical. 

 

I scare you, don't I?  Poor thing.  But then you comfort yourself with "the age difference."  You feel protected by it, don't you?  "What am I to her," you think.  "Invisible," you tell yourself. 

 

But here is what you should understand about the difference separating us.  I am a fully formed dominant woman, and you are a lost little boy.  I can snap you like a dry twig.  And you already know it. 

 

But I have no wish to harm you.  I am, however, considering making you my slave. 

 

Does that paradox worry you?  It shouldn't.  You have no part to play in MY decision.  But just re-imagine this morning.  Waking up, taking your shower, looking down and seeing my name engraved on a lock to which you will never have keys.  How lucky you would feel under my control.  You would shave yourself bare because that is what your Goddess requires.  And then put on your panties and go to work.  No more trying to deny your secret self.  I would not allow it.

 

But I have not yet made MY decision about your fate.  Here is what you will do.  Shave yourself bare and lock yourself in chastity.  Put on a pair of panties.  At 8pm get on your knees, naked except for panties and chastity - and  call the number on the card. 

 

Until then, Your Goddess.

 

Outrageous.  Absurd.  Just more head games, I thought as I put an even coat of shaving cream everywhere from my abdomen to mid-thigh.  Ridiculous, like this is anything real, I added, fastening the lock and putting on the panties.  I hope you enjoyed the little joke at my expense, I muttered, listening to the phone ringing at 8pm as I waited on my knees.  No doubt it was routed to a call center in Bangalore, I assured myself.  But then it stopped ringing. 

 

For the first little while I only heard her breathing.  Finally she spoke. 

 

"Why, hello little slut.  Right on time.  Do I even need to ask if you obeyed your Goddess?  Of course not.  You are kneeling, shaved, and locked.  You will begin all of our conversations this way. 

 

"You will take tomorrow off.  You were planning to lose yourself in work to forget what happened today.  That is cancelled now.  Forgetting your Goddess is unacceptable.  I am the balance you desperately need.  Deny me at your peril.

 

"To teach you a lesson about such foolishness, you will spend a week in chastity.  Two weeks if I think you need it.  Then and only then you will come to the address I give you, and we will begin your transformation.  Good night, slut.  Don't try to understand.  Everything is taken care of and beyond your control."  Click.

 

I barely made it to bed.  Never slept like that before.