Donnanatrix

dominatrix story

Short Story

 

Donna eyed her fork thoughtfully as she rolled her tongue around in her mouth, pushing the prawn she was masticating into the right side of her mouth before swallowing. She was satisfied with the starter. So often prawns were over seasoned, which ruined their delicate flavour. These prawns were still sweet. She smiled to herself before returning her focus to the room where she was trying and failing to pay attention to the man seated across from her.

Donna arched her eyebrows and nodded slightly at the words he was hurling at her about the stock market. She could think of nothing she wanted more than to run home, put on her bathrobe and curl up in bed. This was not an option. Not tonight. Tonight she had promised herself to this man. She knew he would soon pay the check and then after holding the door open for her he’d sit too close to her in the taxi while he continued to vomit big words all over her new dress while he fondled her knee, her breast, her dignity.

‘How interesting!’ She exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly as much of the restaurant turned to look at her. Donna was used to the attention. Especially when her dates were as animated and as old as this one was.

‘Donna,’ the man whispered leaning over the table, ‘Can you please pass me your panties?’

Donna was savouring the taste of her last mouthful of prawns, but suddenly they tasted sour and she choked them down. ‘Beg pardon?’ Donna replied, disguising her revulsion with a toothy smile. ‘You want my panties now?’ She rolled her eyes as she flipped her hair. ‘Right, I’ll be back in a sec.’ She scooted her chair out and attempted to leave the table.

‘Wait!’ The man held up his hand and leered at her before continuing, ‘You have to do it here.’

Donna put herself back in her seat and pulled herself back in. She lowered her voice to a whisper, ‘you want me to get them off here? But I’m in a thong.’

Donna could feel just how deeply her panties were buried in her crevice and cringed at the idea of retrieving those in a way that was in any way sexy. She hoped they didn’t slingshot across the room into someone’s soup.

‘Yes please. It’s something I saw in a film once. I want you to take off your panties at the table and then I’d like you to hand them to me over the breadbasket.’ He put his palms together and was grinning like an idiot now, ‘Then at home I’d like you to stuff them in my mouth so I can suck on them when you rub my feet.’

Donna had zoned out again and was now desperately trying to remember which film she had seen this ridiculous scenario in. It didn’t matter anyway, she’d be starring in her own private version of it later, just as she had every other semi-erotic scene in any popular film from Sliver and 9 ½ Weeks to the most recent addition, Fifty Shades of Grey.

It had been exactly six months since Donna had moved to New York City to pursue her acting career and exactly three weeks since she started working as a professional dominatrix. It was a living, though the things she had to practice and endure were surprising to say the least. There was the man who needed to be slapped with a wooden spoon on the ass while being called ‘Daddy,’ the one who insisted on wearing a diaper and soiling himself in her presence, the one who brought his own 7 inch heels for her to wear to walk up and down his back and this guy, the one who liked to be tortured with underwear. She knew it would be tragic if it weren’t so funny.

Donna’s date was boring a hole in her forehead with his eyes, salivating. ‘Oh, that sounds fun!’ She let out a little fake giggle as she began to try to remove her undergarments as inconspicuously as possible. Shifting her weight to one side as if letting out a fart she wiggled her left hand under her crushed velvet skirt just as the waitress returned.

‘How were your starters then?’

Donna, hunched over with her hand up herself struggled to conceal what she was doing and leaned awkwardly on the table and cocked her head up at the young woman. ‘Awesome, the prawns were sublime.’

The young woman nodded, but the smile died on her lips as she tried to locate Donna’s missing arm and eventually did. She removed the plates from the table turned on her heel and clicked away to the kitchen.

Donna exploded with genuine laughter and her date wiped fake sweat from his brow. ‘Phew!’ We just got away with that one.‘

Donna shook her head, ‘Not so much. I’m wearing hose as well.’ Her face crumpled, ‘can I please go to the toilet?’

Her date was shaking his head slowly but seemed very pleased with himself. ‘I’m so happy you have hose on, you can choke me with them later.’

‘Hooray!’ Donna said flatly just as she managed to get her thumb hooked into the waistband of her hose and gave a silent “thank you” to baby Jesus that she wasn’t wearing Spanx. She managed to roll the hose down a bit and then reached the dental floss waistband of her panties.

‘Donna,’ her date whispered, ‘please look at me when you’re doing that.’

‘Of course,’ Donna forced a tight smile as she caught the softest part of her belly with her newly manicured thumbnail. ‘Ouch! Fuck!’ She tried to remove her hand, but was stuck inside the nylon casing of her hose. Nearly falling off the chair, she caught herself with her other hand on the table, but knocked over her glass of champagne.

Her date was huffing and puffing now, ‘Jesus, Donna, what’s the issue?’

‘I cut myself and I seem to have glued myself to myself with sweat and blood. Sorry.’

The chipper waitress reappeared holding plates and clearly looking for any sign of Donna’s other hand. ‘I see we’ve had an accident. Let me help you clear that up.’ She placed a gorgeous fillet steak in front of Donna’s date and a perfectly pink piece of salmon resting on some green stuff in front of Donna as she sauntered off in search of a towel.

‘Well now naughty girl, I expect to have your underwear before I let you have any of your dinner. Hop to it!’

Donna watched as he cut into his meat, he barely needed the knife. Blood turned the plate a lovely shade of pink and she wondered what would happen if she stood up and told this guy to “fuck off!” But she needed the money and she was hungry, so she went back to the herculean task of removing her hose and panties at the dinner table.

After one more go at removing the hose traditionally and failing, she decided that ripping them was the best course of action. No one had said they had to be in perfect condition. She pierced the fabric with her unusually sharp thumbnail and ran her finger down the length of her leg popping out of her shoe before running her finger around the front of the hose and doing the same trick with the other leg. Hose? Check. Donna didn’t suppose it mattered that the waistband of the hose was still in place and in tact tightly around her middle. She could choke her date just fine with what she had.

‘How’s it coming Donna?’ The man’s face had gone red from the hasty meat consumption and he was beginning to get a sweat on.

The smell of the salmon was taunting her. She knew that getting her thong off would be next to impossible if she carried on the same way as she did with her hose. She proceeded to stand up, step out of her panties and throw them right in her date’s face before grabbing her plate of salmon and walking out the door, the waitress calling after her. Within 30 minutes Donna was in her bathrobe and was curled up in bed. She promised herself she’d return the plate tomorrow.

 

more by LEE ANNE HILL

photograph by Anthony Delanoix

 

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