Oct 262009

Dr. Vanilla took a deep breath. “Sally, please be reasonable. We can help you!”

Sally kicked him in the balls. Dr. Vanilla gasped and would have fallen to his knees if it wasn’t for the chains that was holding us to the wall.

“Quit calling me, Sally!” she growled. “My name is Mistress Medea now. Say it!”

She cracked the electric whip and sparks flew from the floor. She was no longer the shy blogger with her frequent posts about her cat and her inability to find a dom. She had been transformed by the Censors of Atlantis into her new persona.

And even Dr. Vanilla would be the first to admit that her new persona was hot. She had long black hair with red streaks the color of blood. She was wearing a corset of red metal that gave her body an hourglass shape not found in nature. Her boots alone were adorned with more spikes than a Road Warrior marathon. The glasses were the best part. You can chemically alter the brain of a nerd girl into a cruel dominatrix but you can’t take the glasses away from the nerd.

She hit Dr. Vanilla with the electric whip and he cried out. I struggled with my chains but they were so strong. My mind was racing, I had to figure out a way out of her. It was my idiom.

When he lifted his head, it was Mr. Dom who spoke. “Stupid little cunt! A corset from Hot Topic doesn’t make you a dominatrix! It takes willpower! It takes a belief that you are a fucking god! Whip me all you want, you are just a fucking poser bitch playing dress up and reading your Anite Blake novels.”

Oh shit. Mistress Medea just glared at him. Mr. Dom had a nasty tendency to say exactly what people feared the most. He knew her when she was Sally and he knew her now as Mistress Medea.

“Teach me,” she said. “Teach me how to be more like a real dominatrix.”

“No!” Dr. Vanilla suddenly answered. They could switch personalities faster than a stripper could spin a tassel. “Don’t listen to him! He will destroy you!”

“Shut up, Doctor!” I snapped. You got to hand it to the Dr. Even when we are captured and being tortured, he wants to protect people. Shit, even the one torturing us.

She kicked him in the balls again. “Teach me!” she yelled.

The force of her request was so desperate. Even after the Secret Censors had fucked with her brain, she still was insecure about being a dominatrix.

“Let me go first,” Mr. Dom said.

Mistress Medea started to and then stopped.

“God damn,” Mr. Dom said. “You don’t even have the courage to make a mistake! Free me and risk me escaping, or leave me here and wonder what I could have taught you. Make a damn decision, Mistress Chickenshit!”

Mistress Medea unlocked his shackles.

Mr.Dom moved like lightning. His leg kicked against those spiky boots and sent her tumbling. As soon as she was on the ground, he had his hands on her throat. She was down on the ground, pinned and helpless.

“Bitch, you are so lucky I am not the Midnight Cock,” Mr. Dom said.

As she slipped into unconsciousness, I heard Dr. Vanilla whispering to her.

Dr. Vanilla released me from my shackles and checked my arms for circulation problems. I went to work frisking Mistress Medea for anything we could use in our escape. Dr. Vanilla looked exhausted.

“What did you say to her, at the end?” I asked.

“I said she made the wrong choice.” he answered.

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