Tea on Thursday

My world is a bit different from yours. Technology's the same; we have cell phones and computers and so forth. Men and women interact pretty much the same way, with a few major differences. One of the biggest is that BDSM is universally practiced; everyone is either a Dom/me, slave, or switch. We also have *lots* of customs, many of which I'll explain to you in due course. But for the purposes of our story right now, all you need to know is that I'm a Dom, and that at the time this story took place I was in my late 30's and reasonably well-off, with a career as a professional dominant.

I was out looking at high-end appliances, and observed a woman who was talking with a salesperson. Dominant women, in my world, show off their bodies for everyone to admire. This one was in her early 50's, I would guess, with white-blonde hair pulled back into a very tight ponytail, dead white skin, ruby red lipstick on full lips, and a body to die for. She was wearing a white longsleeved shirt over a bra with what must have been industrial-sized shoulder straps, given that they were supporting tits the size of bowling balls. The shirt was very tight, unbuttoned enough in front that I could see her cleavage and catch a glimpse of the bra itself, and it was tucked into the tightest pencil skirt I've ever seen, which ended just above her knees. Her feet were in boots with what must have been six-inch heels, stilettos at that, but she stood on them confidently, as if unaware of how difficult this must have been. She was, from the way she was dressed and the way she held herself, clearly a lesbian. She was having a considerable argument with the salesperson, a man who was obviously not submissive and who wasn't taking yes for an answer.

"I don't care if my credit card has expired," she said to him threateningly, "I wish to buy this washer and dryer combination. Since you'll be delivering them to my house, you can collect payment from me there."

Obviously, something had happened, and she was unable to pay for her purchases, and the salesperson wasn't accepting her personal guarantees. I stepped in and offered my card, which had the limit to handle her purchase. She was grateful once the transaction was completed.

"Thank you very much for that. Apparently one of my servants let my credit card expire. I'll be having a chat with them about it when I get home. My name is Lady Jessica Sharpe," she said.

"I'm Gabriel Stone, and my credit card happens to be up to date, so it seemed appropriate to assist a lady in distress. You can repay me at your convenience," I said in reply. "There's no hurry."

"Why don't you come by my house this Thursday for tea, so I can thank you properly?" She offered this with a smile, and this seemed like an interesting proposition, so I agreed, and showed up at her doorstep at the appropriate time.

She answered the door herself, dressed identically to the first time we had met, and led me into her parlor, where we sat opposite one another, drank tea, and munched on cookies. When the tea was finished she carried the tray to her kitchen, and was unbuttoning the cuffs of her shirt as she walked back into the room.

"I hope you don't mind, but I don't like to have surrogates pay my debts for me. I have several slavegirls we can call if you wish, but I thought you might enjoy an older woman," as she was saying this she was pulling her blouse out of her skirt and unbuttoning it, "who hasn't submitted in a good long time, certainly not to a man." With that the blouse came off and she reached behind her back, unbuttoning her bra. I should explain what was going on here.

We have many customs and traditions in my world, and they all must be religiously adhered to. When you invite someone to tea, well, on several days of the week it's just tea, but Tuesdays and Thursdays are different from the rest. Many years ago someone noticed that the words "Tuesday Tea" and "Thursday Tea" abbreviate to "T.T.", the same initials as "Tit Torture." From then on, it was considered polite, if you invited someone to your house on Tuesday or Thursday, to provide them with a pair of breasts to torture. Thursday was usually intended to be the harsher day of the two, because the "Thurs" part of Thursday was, if you switched the letters around, "hurts." Occasionally a switch would invite people over and provide herself as the entertainment; lesbian Dommes supposedly did this with each other, occasionally, but I'd never had one offer me the opportunity to enjoy something like this.

She removed her bra, and sat on the chair, opposite me. "There's rope, chains, cuffs, and other implements in the drawer of the table here, and that cabinet over there has more things in it. If you require it we can move to the dungeon, where I have other things for a woman to sit on, which are much less comfortable than this chair, if you'd like to see me in some real discomfort. I was going to suggest you start with Mammary Pincushion, but of course it's up to you." She tossed the bra aside, and let me have a look at what have to have been the largest pair of natural breasts I've ever seen.

I went to work immediately, and she and I began to chat as I tied her. We talked about how tough she was with her slaves (very), what she expected out of this afternoon (nothing less than she inflicted on others), and eventually she brought up that she usually did her best to exploit every opportunity, when she had a slave tied up. This I took to mean as an invitation to try and extort invitations to return, on Thursdays and other days, if I could manage it. Once I'd tied her wrists with rope, very tightly, hands palm-to-palm, I then tied her elbows also. She inhaled sharply when she felt the rope going around the elbows, and said "Yes, very proper, very strict." When I finished and her arms were very strictly, very harshly drawn behind her back, thrusting her breasts out incredibly, she looked down at them and nodded. I then pulled out a wide posture collar that I found in her cabinet on, noticing that this one had a chain threaded through a ratchet on the back. I knew what this was for, and of course she did too, so when she saw me pick the collar up her eyes widened. "You're really planning to make this hard on me, aren't you? Well, carry on." I buckled it around her neck, and attached the chain that hung through the ratchet to the rope that tied her wrists together. Then I began to pull on the other end of the chain, and her wrists began to rise towards her neck, her elbows canting out as this happened. When the hands reached the level of her elbows, I stopped for a minute, and went around in front of her. She was beginning to sweat, and her face was a bit red, but other than that she seeemed to be doing pretty well.

I said to her, "How are you doing?" She looked at me with these very cold eyes, and said, "Is this the best you can do? I wold have expected more from someone of your reputation."

Without speaking I went back around behind her, and finished tightening the chain, until her hands were just under her neck in back. She began to moan when the hands had almost reached their destination; when I stepped back around in front of her, she'd begun to cry a little. I opened the drawer she'd indicated, and took out a large box of long, large-gauge needles, which I set out open on the table. I turned to her and asked, "Do you have any irritant?" She indicated the other end of the drawer, where I found a bottle of very nasty stuff that would make every needle several times as painful as it otherwise would be. I dipped the first needle and pushed it into the upper slope of her left breast, watching her wince in pain as it penetrated her skin. I spent the next half an hour inserting one needle after another into her breasts, avoiding her nipples and aureolae, but leaving the rest of the enormous breasts covered in needles sticking out. By now she was quietly sobbing.

"What's your opinion about extortion, in terms of the Dom/me keeping their end of the bargain?" I asked. "Some believe it's proper to do, but others insist that the Dom/me should not be bound by any agreement with a slave, because the slave is of course inferior."

She looked at me, and smiles slightly through her tears. "A Dom/me should generally observe deals they make with slaves. However, I'm not a slave, so I'll extend to you the courtesy of allowing you to torment me with whether you'll live up to any of our agreements." I nodded as I began to work on her nipples and aureolae, making both of them dense pincushions, the needles going in one after the other. There was some blood, but not as much as you'd think; she began to whine and then beg after I'd inserted about 50 needles all told.

"What will you promise me?" I asked her, seriously. "And what do you wish in return, in the way of promises?"

"I'd like for you to leave my tits alone, and move to another portion of my anatomy for awhile. In return, I'll invite you to tea, next Thursday."

"I'm thinking I should have a standing invitation to tea on Thursdays, indefinitely."

"That seems reasonable, if you'll just leave my breasts alone for a bit."

"So we're agreed, I have a standing invitation to tea on Thursdays, here? I'll want you to be the entertainment, even if you have other women here as guests or even servants."

"Of course I'll be the entertainment," she gasped with exasperation, "I'd be insulted if I wasn't. I'll start inviting other women, with the understanding that you can involve any of them in the suffering, as you choose. Next week you'll have a variety."

"Then it's agreed, Thursdays from now on." I then attached a large pair of alligator clamps to her nipples, which had only been pierced from side-to-side; the clamps just bit down on her pierced nipples, making it even more painful. "You did say I could violate the agreement, as I chose." She howled in agony for several minutes, before finally calming down.

"So I did" she replied ruefully. "I expected nothing less."

"What's your feeling on rules? Should they have to be explained, or should the slave/victim just have to follow them, regardless of whether they know the rules or not?"

"I'm in favor of working things so that the victim earns the maximum amount of punishment that they can," she said firmly, "If you have a rule against carrying on like this, for instance, I'd insist on being made to suffer a punishment, in response. If you don't have such a rule, I'd pretty much insist you concoct one now, with a particularly dire punishment for me. Might I suggest Ashtray Pussy? I've always found it to have a salutory effect on slaves."

I helped her to her feet, and unzipped her skirt for her. It fell to her ankles, and she stepped out of it, sitting back down in the chair with her legs spread about as far wide as I've ever seen a woman do, and with her crotch on the edge of the chair. I got a box of cigars from the cabinet, cut off the end of one with a cigar cutter, and then lit it...and then held the glowing tip to her left cuntlip. This time she grimaced silently, her eyes closed and seemingly her mind lost in her own harsh world of pain.

"Oh yes," she said when I had withdrawn the cigar's tip for 10 seconds or so, "It has a marvelous effect on a woman's ability to control herself. Would you be so kind as to apply it to my other lip?" I of course obliged. Her grimace this time was exquisite to watch.

"And now perhaps you'd like to pay some attention to the little man in the boat? He's feeling neglected." I obliged; her clit was erect, and I held the cigar to it, and she howled silently, her face a rictus of pain.

"I'm curious what you'd promise me, to get me to stop this?" I said.

Her face was frozen in that rictus of pain until I pulled away the cigar, and then she began to regain her composure. Eventually, she looked me in the eye and said, "I'd promise to accompany you to Antoine's on a real date, as often as you wanted. Isn't that the goal of all men these days, to get a bitch to go with them to that place?" I looked at her speculatively.

"Yes, but one date seems rather paltry, don't you think?" I applied the cigar to her clit again, holding it there a bit longer this time. Her forehead broke out in a sweat, and she positively squirmed in place.

"You may invite me there as many times as you wish, for a year, and I'll promise to go whenever I can. Failure to accept a date with you will have serious consequences: a week's slavery, each time."