A phenomenal secret
Author's note: It's my story, so I make the rules. I know nothing about Mark Calaway as a person, so I am implying nothing by this story - it's a plot bunny that was spawned after a fascinating documentary about the world of the dominatrix and an IM chat with the lovely UTsSQ.
But be warned, this story does contain explicit scenes of bondage, domination and sexuality.
Usual disclaimer - own nothing, all the people own themselves, WWE owns the trademark names, I'm doing this to exercise my creativity and for the sheer pleasure of writing. Ask my therapist!
The crowd was screaming and even the backstage crew were in awe. "Great match, Taker!" one of them said as he passed on the way to the locker room. He didn't care - the only thing he was thinking about was that he was in Las Vegas for the first time in many months, and he had an appointment to keep.
He didn't shower, just changed into his street clothes and left quickly. His destination was a private house on the outskirts of town.
On the drive there, his mental image of himself began to change. As he left the lights of Vegas behind, he also left behind the bad ass persona he adopted in the wrestling ring, and became more his private, personal self. By the time he pulled his car into the driveway of the house, he was a different person. Now, he was merely Mistress Lara's slave.
###
Lara had spent her day in preparation. One of her favourite slaves had an appointment this evening, late. This one would be hers for four whole hours, his usual session time. Most others were only granted two hours, but he wasn't often in town, so she made an exception for him. Besides, he was rather special.
This was a man whose physical appearance and demeanor suggested an archetypal alpha male. Indeed, she had heard him referred to as "the big dog". And yet, his sense of worth was almost non-existant. He presented a brave front, a bold front - but his insecurity and self-doubt were immense. It wasn't uncommon for submissives to be like this, but the dichotomy in this man was extraordinary. Sometimes, she wondered how he lived with himself, but guessed that his employment as an entertainer allowed him to "pretend" that he was nothing more than what he seemed - a large powerful man, and it spilled over into his personal life.
Except when he was here - because here he could be himself. He could experience all of his weakness, his wish not to be the dominant one, to allow someone else total control. And there was his extraordinary physical beauty. That itself was special.
Now, she waited for him. She hoped he might be late, because that always got things off to a good start, but it didn't matter if he was on time. She knew him - knew that there would be some infraction with which she could begin his punishment. He enjoyed that part.
If she was honest with herself, with this man she was part dominatrix and part "hooker with a whip", except that she wasn't the one being used for sexual pleasure. With this man, she not only physically dominated him, but to also used him sexually. That was one of the reasons that she allowed him four hours. She squirmed a little in her leather skirt. It had been too long since she had seen him. Before he was admitted to her presence, she needed to take care of her own needs, lest she forget who was in charge here.
Her own private rooms were off limits to everyone. She took off her leather skirt and lay back on the bed, spreading her legs wide. On the bedside table, always within easy reach, were her other tools of trade. She picked up two vibrators, and slowly inserted one inside her. This one she turned on to the highest setting, and it began to throb and rotate inside her. The second she turned to a low setting and applied to her clitoris. She gave herself over to the stimulation, providing her body with release. She remained this way for almost an hour, teasing her body to orgasm after orgasm. Finally, she lay sated, her sexual urges for the moment diminished. Now, she could concentrate on being the Mistress.
She stood and put on a pair of lacy panties. There were soaked in her wetness almost instantly, but that was unimportant. In fact, it was necessary, to provoke a reaction from her slave. She laced up her leather skirt again, and adjusted her bustier, making sure her nipples were just under the top edge. Then she zipped up her thigh high leather boots. Taking up her riding crop, she moved downstairs to her public domain.
###
Her slave was waiting in the reception area. Her majordomo whispered that he had been here right on time. She stood, looking at him imperiously. His eyes betrayed a flicker of his excitement. It was all the infraction she needed.
"How dare you look at me in that manner?" Her riding crop flicked out and caught his shoulder.
He was on his knees in a second. "Forgive me, Mistress," his tone was humble.
"And how do we beg forgiveness here?"
He bent his head to her boots, and licked the toes slowly and carefully.
"That's better. Get up and get in there," she gestered to the door which led to the place of domination.
He stood, and walked past her. She could smell the musky odour of his sweat and knew he had not showered before coming to her. Another infraction, how splendid.
When he had reached the centre of the room, with its low lights and dark corners, she walked up behind him and pressed her body to his. She felt his shudder of excitement. Then her riding crop came down hard on his thigh. "You haven't bathed! You come in here reeking of sweat. This is unacceptable. Take off those clothes!" She stepped away and gave him a sharp slap across the butt.
Then she crossed to her chair, which sat on a raised dais. His hands went to the buttons of his collarless black shirt, but his eyes were fixed on her. Good. She sat slowly in the chair and leaned back. The movement caused her nipples to slip out from under the edge of her bustier. She slowly raised one leg and draped it over the arm of the chair, exposing her lacy panties. She saw him inhale deeply, and knew the scent of her arousal had reached him.
He took off his shirt, and folded it neatly, placing it to one side. He slipped off his shoes, and removed his socks, placing them carefully in his shoes. The shoes he placed beside his folded shirt. Then he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. He removed them slowly, folded them and added them to the shirt. Finally he stood before her in his underwear.
She smiled inwardly. When he had first started coming to her, this ritual of undressing had been the subject of his first lessons. He had been a slow learner, although she suspected it was to draw out the punishments. Sometimes, even after so long, she disciplined him for not folding his shirt properly, or for hurrying. There was no hurrying - she set the pace.
"Mistress, may I remove my underwear?" he asked. His eyes were fixed on her exposed panties. Good. One of the lessons he had truly been slow to learn was that he must not look her in the eyes, as he was not her equal. His expression was one of adoration and submission, as was proper when he met her eyes on the rare occasions she permitted it, but she found his green eyes disturbing.
She looked over at him. He was impressively muscled, and his tattoos were astounding. But the rule was that he could not remove his underwear without her express permission. She stared at the outline of his cock, semi hard in his boxer briefs. She shifted in her chair, allowing the lacy panties to slip and expose her pink inner folds. His erection hardened, and the engorged tip was now visible, pressing tightly against the fabric. Her hands caressed her nipples. Watching his massive penis harden was a joy. She said, without expression, "You may."
He slowly lowered his briefs, and placed them neatly on top of his other clothes. He stood, naked.
"What is the punishment for coming to me unwashed?" she demanded, flicking her nipples lazily, watching his erect cock move with each breath he took.
"Mistress demands that I be clean. I must wash," he spoke in a quiet tone, his head bowed. But she caught the flicker of a smile. Ah, so this was deliberate. Slaves should not be allowed to enjoy their punishments too much.
"In cold water, you worthless dog! Get in there!" She gestured to a shower stall located in one corner of the room, and was pleased to see him flinch at the idea. In future, he would bathe before arriving, as was proper.
He stood under the shower head, a massage nozzle which was set on a fine needle spray and turned on the cold water. He gasped, and she was out of her chair and next to him in a heartbeat, her riding crop lashing out and leaving a red mark on his buttocks.
"You will not complain, slave," she reminded him.
"Yes mistress," came the quiet response.
She stood and watched him bathe. He soaped his body all over, including his long hair, and rinsed thoroughly. His erection had vanished. He turned off the water.
"May I have a towel, Mistress?"
She considered, and then handed him a rough cloth, watching as he rubbed it over his body, its coarse fabric leaving his skin reddened. Finally he was dry. He held out the towel to her. "Thank you Mistress."
She slapped it out of his hand with the crop. "No! I am not a servant - I will not touch your used towel! For that, you will be punished. Get over there!" She gestured to the large frame. He moved towards it, and she flicked him again across the buttocks. Her hand was practised, the crop stung but never left a permanent mark.
He stood obediently before the upright, his arms above his head. She stepped up to the plinth, which brought her to the height she needed. Her breasts brushed his face as she secured the manacles around his wrists. He nuzzled at her nipples. She stepped down, and brought her hand up to his nipple, twisting it viciously. He cried out.
"We don't touch Mistress unless we are asked to do so, do we?"
"No Mistress," his voice was very low.
"You've been a very disobedient slave already this evening."
"Yes Mistress."
"I am disappointed."
"I am sorry, Mistress," he sobbed.
Now she comforted him. Her hand came up to stroke his face gently. "Mistress doesn't want to hurt you. Mistress only wants to teach you to obey. Will you obey?"
"Yes Mistress!" The voice was pleading.
"What will you do for Mistress?"
"Anything!"
A slap. "Anything, what?"
"Anything, Mistress."
The hand that had slapped now caressed. "That's better." He leaned his face against her palm. "However, you have been disobedient. So you must be disciplined. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes Mistress."
Lara turned and walked across the room before turning to look at him. "Am I beautiful, slave?"
"Oh yes Mistress!" he spoke in heartfelt tones.
Her hands went to the laces of her leather miniskirt. She watched his face through the veil of her hair - watched the avid, lustful expression in his eyes. She slowly undid the laces and allowed the skirt to fall to the floor. Now she stood before him in her black leather bustier, her full breasts overflowing it, her soaked lace panties and her boots. She leaned forward and slipped her hands inside her panties, caressing herself. Then she slowly slid them down over her hips and took them off.
She walked towards him, holding her panties in one hand. She waved them before his face, and watched as he leaned his head forward, breathing of her scent on them. "Does Mistress smell good, slave?"
"Ohhh yes, Mistress."
"You would like to taste Mistress' panties, wouldn't you slave?"
"Oh, yes please Mistress!" There was a note of pleading, which she ignored.
"But you have been disobedient, so you will not taste Mistress' panties." She reached behind him and found the collar he usually wore. A studded leather collar. She stepped onto the plinth again, brushing her breasts against his face once more as she fastened it around his neck. This time, he did not nuzzle her, but held himself still. As she stepped down off the plinth, she noticed his cock beginning to swell.
"That was very good slave, you restrained yourself. For that, you will have a reward." She waved her panties near his face, and his eyes lit up. "No slave, you cannot taste them - you are still being punished. But you may have them near so that you can smell Mistress. What do you say?"
"Thank you Mistress."
She stepped closer to him, pressing her body against his as she hooked her panties to the ring on the collar. She felt the tension in his body as he held himself rigid and did not lean into her. Very good - he was restraining himself admirably. As she stepped away, he dropped his head forward to sniff deeply, and sighed.
"You smell wonderful, Mistress."
"Thank you slave. But now you must be punished for your disobedience, you know that, don't you?"
"Yes Mistress. I await your punishment, for I deserve it."
Ahhhhh. He was being very submissive now. She had reached that core of him, and it happened very quickly. Sometimes he did not yield for hours. She sometimes wondered what motivated the Undertaker. His public persona was very much at odds with this side of him. She decided that his punishments this evening would be things he enjoyed. It was the way with submissives - when they showed the proper attitude, they were rewarded with their favourite punishments.
She walked to the refrigerator and took out the ice. It was frozen in the shape of a dildo, with a rubber handle for her to hold. Now, if he behaved, he would enjoy it. She turned to him, holding it where he could see it. One flash of interest or excitement in his eyes, and it would be withheld. But - no. His expression remained docile. She stepped in front of him, and lightly ran the ice down the centre of his chest. The shock of the cold made his nipples harden. But his posture remained submissive.
She circled his nipples with the tip of the ice. His body bucked slightly, but he made no sound. She ran the ice up his side and continued it up his arm. He shivered slightly. But he made no sound, and that was the key. If he cried out, or moaned, the punishment would change - more slaps with the crop perhaps. While he remained entirely submissive and passive, the teasing with the ice would continue.
She stimulated him with it - his nipples, his inner thighs. She ran it up under his heavy testicles. That often brought forth a moan, but not tonight. She circled behind him, and ran the ice, which was beginning to melt, down the length of his spine. She watched as the droplets of water ran down between the cheeks of his butt. She returned to stand in front of him again, this time running the ice along his heavy cock, and then swirling it around the head. His muscles tensed, and his cock hardened further. She ran it up from there to his throat, tracing the line of his jaw.
He was perfectly submissive. How excellent to have achieved this so soon.
"Look at me slave," she demanded.
His eyes looked straight into hers without hesitation.
"You have been very obedient and may have a treat. Would you like that?"
"Yes please Mistress."
She stepped back to her chair and sat down. Parting her legs very wide, she slipped the ice dildo inside her, moving it slowly in and out. She looked up, straight into those green eyes and asked, "Would you like to taste this now?"
His response was docile. "Yes please Mistress."
She slipped the ice out of her body and walked over to him. She pressed close to him and lifted the dildo to his lips. "You may open your mouth now slave." As he did, she brushed the tip of the ice across his lips. He licked them with his long tongue.
"Thank you Mistress."
Oh, a response like that deserved another taste. She held the dildo to his lips again, and he licked at it, curling his tongue around it sensuously.
"Thank you Mistress."
He was being so good tonight. He deserved another treat, one he didn't get often. She circled behind him yet again, slipping the dildo between his butt cheeks. "Do you want this slave?"
He knew the correct response to that. "I want whatever Mistress sees fit to give me."
"Spread your legs," she said in a low voice. As he did, she slid the ice dildo to his pucker, running it around the rim. He pushed back a little and opened his legs wider. She gently pushed its melting tip inside him. His body tensed and relaxed, accepting it.
His behaviour was exemplary, and she gave him another small treat. "You may make a sound if you wish."
"Ooohhhh yes, Mistress, thank you."
As she continued to move the ice in and out of him, he moaned softly in pleasure. The heat of his body made short work of the ice, and she threw the handle aside. He stood, trembling, the expression on his face one of shining gratitude. "Thank you Mistress. I did not deserve this pleasure because I failed you, but you gave it to me. I do not deserve such a good Mistress." There were tears welling in his eyes.
###
She left him standing a while longer, before again mounting the plinth to release the manacles. He did not lower his arms until she told him that he could. He was perfectly behaved tonight. So now, it was time for a little play before she found another trivial infraction for which to punish him. This was the pattern of their sessions, and unlike any other slave she had.
She returned to her chair and sat, once again hooking one leg over the arm. Her naked sex was now totally exposed. It was smooth, waxed. And wet. He still stood in front of the frame, not even rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension from standing bound for so long. She slid her butt a little further forward on the chair.
"Slave, come here," she pointed to a spot on the floor in front of her.
"Yes Mistress," he said, walking to the place she indicated.
She looked up at his magnificent body. "Kneel!" she demanded, and he did so immediately.
"Slave, I wish you to pleasure me. Lick me," she crooned softly.
He bent forward and placed his hands on the edge of the dais. He could not touch her, but must remain in a submissive, dog-like posture. Only his lips and tongue would touch her. He leaned forward and licked her wet slit all the way up. He had the most remarkably long tongue, and he used it very well. But even in this she directed him.
"Lick me harder," she said, flicking the crop gently on his shoulder. His tongue pressed harder against her, in perfect obedience. "Fuck me with your tongue!" It slid inside her and was thrust in and out. He was really behaving well tonight. She lay her head back and enjoyed the sensations as he pleased her. "Now the clitoris, softly."
She had him on his knees for twenty minutes, before she allowed herself to give him the command. "Make me come, slave." It was the only time she did not direct him. He had an uncanny talent for oral sex, and knew exactly how to make her orgasm. His tongue thrust into her, and he pressed his nose against her clitoris, rubbing it hard. At the last moment, he slid his tongue out of her and applied it to her clit, working it hard. Her body jerked and spasmed.
He sat back on his heels, as she enjoyed the powerful orgasm. He had learned the hard way that if he attempted to continue to touch her once she came, he would be disciplined. So he knelt before her, worshipping his Mistress as she enjoyed the pleasure he had been allowed to bring her.
###
As Lara shuddered through the final tremors of her orgasm, she was already thinking about what to do with her slave next. As her body calmed, she decided on at least the next thing.
"Slave, I wish to rest my feet. Assume the position."
He turned sideways to her chair, and resumed the dog-like position he had assumed to please her orally. She lifted her legs and rested them on his broad back. His head was still up, so she switched her riding crop across his butt. His head immediately lowered, and he said "I am sorry Mistress."
Hmmm, should she count this as an infraction that called for further punishment? Perhaps not. She settled more comfortably, her pussy still pulsing slightly. He really was very good orally. It had been so long since she had seen him, she was surprised that he had become submissive so quickly. There had been times in the past when it had taken hours of punishment to extinguish the spark of independence and bring him to this properly submissive state.
She had slaves who craved the pain. He did not enjoy pain, as such, but he did enjoy being punished, being made to submit. She swept her gaze over him beneath her feet. So beautifully built. And the perfect instrument of pleasure. But perhaps it was time to provoke him to infraction again.
She was just deciding how to do so, when he moved under her feet.
"Slave, you moved! You know the rules - when you are being used as Mistress' foot stool, you will not move."
"Yes Mistress, I am sorry Mistress." He was genuinely contrite, and she knew he expected to be punished.
"Get up!"
He climbed to his feet, and she cut the crop against his back as he moved. "To the table."
He climbed up on the table, assuming instantly the position to be bound. His arms and legs were spread-eagled, attached to leather straps on a frame above the table. He was totally at her mercy now, and his complete acceptance of this shone in his eyes. Right now, he was utterly hers.
It was time to show him what his place was, as her possession, her tool. She moved a second, padded table next to the one he was on, then climbed up onto his table, and straddled his hard body. He did not writhe under her, nor buck himself to touch her. Oh very good. But she knew she could provoke him to infraction, almost certainly. As she knelt above him, she reached behind her back and slowly loosened the fasteners of her bustier and removed it completely. She was now naked but for her thigh high boots.
She moved back a little further on his legs, and stared at his cock.
"Slave, I wish to fuck. Get it up for me, now!"
This part was truly awe-inspiring. She didn't know what he thought of when she gave this command, but watching that huge cock swell to full erection was an amazing thing. She loved forward, positioning her pussy over the head, and slowly impaled herself on him. He was huge, and she had learned that until she had been properly stimulated, he was too big for her to do this easily. Now, however, she was thoroughly wet and while he stretched her, she enjoyed the sensation.
She worked her body over his, the tempo as she needed it. He had learned - again, very slowly - that he was not to move at all. It was a hard thing for many men to learn, not to thrust. But learn he had, and now she could take her pleasure in him this way.
She moved slowly up and down his huge cock, changing the angle of her body to feel him inside her, and brought one hand down to rub her clit. She tightened her internal muscles to increase the friction, and rubbed her clit harder and harder as she rode him. Her orgasm came hard, and she pushed herself off him with great effort as her body trembled and shook. She collapsed onto the padded table, allowing the sensations of her orgasm to flow through her.
###
She cut her eyes sideways at him, and watched him wrestle for control of his body. His cock was jerking, and his belly seemed tense. Ah, she had come just before he was about to. What perfect timing. Now, what would he do about it? Would he hold it off, or would he commit another infraction?
Just as it seemed he would control it, his ejaculation burst forth. He moaned as his come spurted on to his belly in spasmodic arcs.
"Forgive me Mistress!" he pleaded. "I could not maintain the proper control."
"So I see," her tone was hard. "However, I am disposed to be charitable. You have behaved well this evening."
"No Mistress, please! I am not worthy of your kindness, I should be punished!" he begged.
She knew this request, he really wanted to be punished. She picked up the clothes pins and attached them to his nipples. His body arched and writhed. His nipples were very sensitive, and this punishment was reserved for the most serious infractions. They had agreed to all of these things before he ever had a session. And she knew his kinks better than anyone.
Once he began to sob from the pain, she removed the pins and stroked his chest gently. She bathed his semen from his belly, and then used a warm damp cloth on his swollen nipples. He continued to sob, working out his fear and grief, his deepest emotions. She bent over him, holding his face to her breasts, soothing him and gentling him.
Now that he had released this pain, the session could be concluded. His sexual prowess was incredible, and she had at times enjoyed him three or four times. But tonight there would be only one more. Once he had been severely punished and had been able to release his pain, it was time for full release for him.
###
She moved off the table and found the cock ring, and then lit the candle in the holder near his head. She leaned over him, speaking softly, encouraging him, telling him what a good slave he was. Reinforcing his belief that he had been good and was now worthy of release. She never touched him sexually, except for the penetration. His excitement came from his belief that he had been an acceptable person to her, an obedient slave.
As his penis once again hardened, she slipped on the ivory cock ring to help him maintain it. It was often difficult for him at this point, because of the emotional upheaval, but release at this point was a part of the healing process for him.
She once again climbed up to straddle him, but this time, she leaned forward and took the candle from its holder. She held it at an angle over his body, and the hot wax dripped onto his chest. He gasped and writhed, but his eyes begged for more. And the more she did it, the harder his cock became. When he was ready, he nodded to her, and she mounted him once more.
She fucked him again, his body totally submissive under hers. His eyes were closed, and somewhere deep inside, her heart ached for him. She didn't know what had happened to this man to make him so damaged, but she liked to think she was helping him cope with it. Or at least giving him a safe place to let it all out.
Only during this time did she allow herself to vocalise her excitement. She moaned and panted as she worked her body on his. Her arousal was real and white hot. She fucked him slowly, giving him time to achieve his own release. She had orgasm after orgasm as she used his cock, and finally he came with a roar and a cry. She milked his cock with her internal muscles, draining him, soothing him.
As usual, he wept for a long time after his orgasm. He was not aware of her as she gently untied his bonds, and removed the cock ring. She picked up his clothes and opened a concealed door, which led into a conventional bathroom. She placed his clothes on the chair and turned the lights down low. And then she wrapped herself in a robe and left the room, retreating to her private quarters.
###
When Mark stopped weeping, the room was empty as usual. He saw the door to the bathroom, left open as always. Slowly, he walked to it, and closed it behind him. He turned on the water and stepped into the shower. When he stepped out, he felt as he always did - reborn and refreshed. Lara made him forget the pain, and helped him go on.
He dressed and then opened the other door, the one that led directly to the car park behind the house. When he slipped behind the wheel, he felt okay. Not good - never good - but okay. Almost normal. Able to live his life again.
With that thought, he turned the key in the ignition and drove away - back to his life.