The Education of Adrianne Smith

by Alyx

With a trembling hand, Adrianne aimed the remote at the VCR and rewound the video. Her breathing was a touch ragged, and there was a definite ache developing down below. No way I'm watching that one again, she thought shakily. I'd never survive it. My notes'll have to be from memory.

The last video was entitled "The Bet," and the picture on the cover was of the silhouette of a woman. Though her face and body were in shadow, it was clear she wore thigh-high boots and carried a whip.

The obligatory S/M flick, Adrianne thought, wrinkling her nose. She rarely found them erotic – "masters" and "mistresses" dripping chains and leather, torture chambers and inflated women with their artificial screams. Still, if she was going to work in the industry she would no doubt be filming bondage videos as well. Better see what QL-Es had to offer.

The first thing she noticed was a trick of film-making she had never expected to find in an adult film: a voiceover. She sat up in surprise, noting that the director was Madison Carter, whom Judith had said was very gifted. The technique of opening with a narrator made the film seem very personal, Adrianne noted. It brought the viewer in right away, and made it feel like one was experiencing everything firsthand.

"I first met Rachel in a lesbian bar," came the unseen narrator's rather husky voice, as the camera panned the smoky and dark interior, "and first impressions were anything but positive. She and her friend were arguing over the finer points of bondage....which naturally piqued my interest immediately."

Sitting at the bar were two young women, both appearing to be in their 20s. One had dark brown hair which fell in slight waves to her shoulders. Her companion had black hair cut very short, with a bright purple streak running down the middle. She was smoking on a cigarette and shaking her head in disgust.

"But why not?" the first woman was asking. "C'mon, Bobbie, you're always talking about how hot it is! How come you won't let me see for myself?"

Bobbie took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew it out in a snort. "You're not serious about the scene, Rachel. You just want to write some exposé for that feminist dyke rag of yours!"

"I do want to do some photojournalistic research," Rachel replied with dignity. "But it will be a respectful portrayal."

"Respectful? You don't even believe it's normal!" Bobbie replied.

"That's not true," Rachel said. "I think you're normal, don't I? You're just saying that because of my hypothesis that it's linked to self-esteem issues."

The narrator's voice came on again, and now the camera slid to the left to show us who was speaking. Adrianne got a shock, as at first glance it looked like Judith Franconi. Her attractive employer? In a lesbian erotic film?! A second glance proved the similarities to be only superficial. The woman had the same dark hair and flashing dark eyes, and she wielded that same air of authority as Judith. But she appeared to be slightly older, with a voluptuous body where Judith was all lean athletic grace. She sat at the bar and sipped her drink, listening unobtrusively with an enigmatic smile on her face.

"Typical tourist," was my thought (came the voiceover). As I listened to her explain to Bobbie that studies showed most people who enjoyed S/M had a history of physical or emotional abuse, I wanted to laugh. She was a confident young woman who had done her research and clearly thought that reading equaled knowledge, even where human sexuality was concerned. She had much to learn.....And oh, how I itched to teach her.

There was complete confidence in that husky voice, and Adrianne licked suddenly dry lips. As she watched, she became completely immersed in the story, till she swore she could feel every sensation along with the characters...every nuance of emotion...every thought echoing in their minds.....

"Just introduce me to someone," Rachel was pleading now. "And I'll take it from there. How about that woman you told me about...what was her name? Bear?"

Bobbie hooted. "Bear? She'd eat you alive! I'd never pick a top like that for your first time."

Rachel grinned in protest. "Hey, I'm at least as tough as you are! Who beat you arm-wrestling last week, huh? I bet I can take anything she can dish out!"

Bobbie drank down the rest of her beer. "It has nothing to do with physical strength," she said quietly. "You think I'm a pushover because I wear my keys on the right? I'll bet you wouldn't last 10 minutes with a domme! You don't even like it when your boss gives you a deadline!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Rachel began in a puzzled tone, when their conversation was interrupted by the woman down the bar.

"Pardon me, but I couldn't help overhearing," she said politely. "And I think I may have the solution to your problem."

Bobbie's jaw dropped. "Mistress Veronica," she said with a squeak, and looked as if she wanted to kneel at the older woman's feet.

The answering smile was white in the dim light. "I was just going to introduce myself," she assured them. "And your name is...?"

"I'm Bobbie, this is Rachel," Bobbie said. "I attended the Halloween party you held at your home last month. It was fantastic!"

"Ah yes, I thought you looked familiar. A harem slave, wasn't it?"

Bobbie blushed and nodded. Rachel glanced from her suddenly reverent friend to the mysterious woman, and back again. She bit back a laugh.

"You were saying something about having a solution to our problem?" Rachel prompted.

The woman turned considering eyes on her. "Yes, I was going to offer my services. You mentioned wanting to...gain some experience. I have some knowledge in the field you're interested in."

"You're a dominatrix?"

The one Bobbie called Mistress Veronica smiled. "Some have called me that."

"So you're available for hire?"

Rachel sensed Bobbie's flinch out of the corner of her eye. But the woman before her merely shrugged. "I'm not a professional, if that's what you're asking. My services are offered purely in the interest of....education."

Rachel frowned, her manner suddenly less brash. "How do I know you're not some nut?" she asked.

"Rachel!" Bobbie looked horrified, but Mistress Veronica laughed.

"Well, I believe your friend here can speak for me," she replied in a low voice. "But it's certainly up to you." She retrieved a business card from her bag, jotted something on it and placed it on the bar. "This has my home address. Present yourself there at 8:00 p.m. tomorrow if you're interested." She held out a hand to Bobbie. "It was nice seeing you again, my dear."

Bobbie kissed the back of it respectfully, as Rachel watched incredulously. After the woman had left, Bobbie turned to her friend in disbelief. "You must be the luckiest person in the world! An invitation from Mistress Veronica....do you know how many subs would give their hankies to be in your shoes?"

Rachel snorted. "You'll pardon me if I don't swoon at the honor. So I take it she's well-known?"

Bobbie shook her head. "The most disgusting thing is you don't even realize your good fortune. Mistress Veronica is one of the most highly skilled tops in L.A.! Believe me, Rachel, you couldn't have a better domme for your first time."

"Well, good. I'd hate to fool around with an amateur."

Bobbie frowned. "If you think that cocky attitude is going to win points with Mistress Veronica, you're in for trouble, Rach."

"My intent isn't to `win points,' as you so crudely put it. I'm just interested in exploring a subject which has intrigued me for a long time."

"Um-hm. I've always wondered about that." Bobbie grinned with a touch of malice. "I'm looking forward to hearing about your...explorations, girlfriend. I'll bet she has you changing your tune in a hurry! Be sure to call me on Saturday....if you can." She left the bar with a laugh that was slightly too sinister for Rachel's taste.

Friday night found Rachel standing outside of a classic Victorian home set well back from the street. In spite of her brash talk to Bobbie, she actually found herself a little bit nervous, and it was disconcerting.

Probably dangerous too, Rachel thought with a touch of humor. Since my defiant attitude seems to worsen when I'm nervous. A hesitant knock was answered immediately by an older woman wearing an apron.

"Is Mis— Is Veronica home?"

The woman didn't blink. "Would you come in, please?"

Rachel was led to a large room which held a comfortable sofa and a roll top desk in the corner. A fire burned in the fireplace, warming the atmosphere, and an expensive-looking rug in rich shades of blue and lavender covered most of the hardwood floor. The only incongruous pieces of furniture in what was obviously the den were a rosewood dresser and a large standing mirror next to it.

"Please make yourself comfortable. The mistress will be with you soon."

Rachel did a double-take, but realized the term could've easily been applied by any old-fashioned servant about the head of the household. It didn't mean she was aware of the woman's proclivities. Still, it was slightly disturbing.

I'll be damned if I'm going to call her 'Mistress,' thought Rachel with a mental snort. That's way too cliché for my taste.

Although Rachel had arrived later than the requested time of 8:00, her host did not appear right away. Probably wants to make an entrance, she thought cynically. While she waited she perused the large bookshelf against the wall. There was a surprising variety of literary classics, as well as the latest Patricia Cornwell mystery and the expected "Story of O" and Pat Califia books. Whatever else Mistress Veronica was, she was apparently well-read.

The woman herself entered the room at that moment, and Rachel knew a moment's sense of disappointment. The leather bustier she was half expecting was nowhere to be seen. Mistress Veronica wore tight fitting jeans dyed midnight black, with a long sleeved shirt of ivory satin. Its open collar was unbuttoned to reveal an impressive cleavage. Her boots were black leather, but came to just above her ankle rather than thigh-high, as Rachel had hoped for. The whole effect was undeniably sensual, but more pirate-like than dominatrix, and surprisingly casual.

"Hello Rachel, I'm glad you decided to come," her host began in that low voice. "Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? I wouldn't advise you to get too intoxicated, though," she added, the only indication in her manner that this wasn't an everyday visit.

"Why not?" Rachel asked, though she had no intention of consuming anything that would contribute to her losing control.

"You'll enjoy the experience more if your senses are not dulled," Veronica said simply. "Though maybe something small to help you relax?"

"I'm perfectly relaxed," Rachel said quickly.

Veronica's smile was amused. "Good, I'm glad." She pressed an intercom on the desk and requested glasses of iced water with slices of lime. After the drinks had been brought in, she thanked the silver-haired servant and dismissed her for the evening. She sat down next to Rachel on the couch, and began in a conversational tone.

"From what I overheard the other evening, I got the impression that you wished to experience a scene for research purposes. Is that an accurate assessment?"

Rachel sipped her water. "Yes, I suppose that describes things pretty well."

"And no personal interest in this for you at all?"

"Uh...." The question was unexpected and Rachel blinked. "I don't....why, does it matter?"

"It matters to me." Veronica smiled. "I like to learn a little bit about the women I play with. It helps, you see."

"It helps? With creating the...you call it a `scene,' right?" Rachel leaned forward in interest. "Do you mind if I take notes?"

"There will be no note-taking during our play," Veronica said. "You'll have to write from memory, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Well, I can do that. That's no problem. Can I ask you a few questions?"

"No," Veronica said pleasantly. "Although I'll be asking you some."

Rachel frowned. "But why not? I'll keep your identity confidential, if that's what you're worried about."

Veronica shook her head. "I'm afraid you don't understand the drill, sweetheart. You've come to me to provide you with something you need. To receive it, you will relinquish the right to direct what happens tonight."

There was silence as Rachel took that in. "And if I'm not comfortable with that?"

"Then you and I part company, senza rancor – no bad feelings. But if you stay, you will submit to my direction."

"Don't I even get a safeword?" Rachel asked faintly.

"A safeword is mandatory," Veronica agreed with a smile. "Does that ease your mind a bit?"

"One more thing," Rachel said. "What do I call you?"

The older woman smiled. "What would you like to call me?"

"Well, I figured you'd tell me that," Rachel shrugged. "But I'm not crazy about the `mistress' designation."

"You haven't earned the right to call me that," the domme replied smoothly. "Why don't we just stick to Veronica?" Inwardly she chuckled to herself. The poor girl obviously thought power was somehow tied to a title, but she would soon realize the truth. "So, are we agreed?"

Well, this is it, Rachel thought ruefully. It's play or pay time. "All right. Agreed," she said out loud, relieved to hear the steadiness of her voice.

"Good. And your safeword is? Make it something you won't forget, but are not likely to utter in the heat of the moment, like `stop' or `don't," Veronica advised.

"Um...how about `time-out'?" Rachel suggested, her basketball background coming to the fore.

"That'll be fine," Veronica said. She sat forward on the sofa and put down her glass. "Shall we begin?"

"All right," Rachel agreed, putting down her own glass and feeling suddenly nervous.

"Once we begin, I will continue until the end. If there is something you don't like, you may use your safeword and I will stop. We can then discuss it. If we don't come to an agreement, the scene will end. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Rachel said, fighting the urge to back out.

"Come kneel before me."

Rachel did so immediately, and Veronica drew her between her knees.

"Tell me, are there any health issues I should know about?" As she spoke, Veronica traced the line of Rachel's chin lightly, eyes running over her face with appreciation. She brushed back the hair from her face, then those long fingers descended to Rachel's blouse. She began slowly to unbutton it.

"N-no, none that I know of," Rachel said.

"Good." She drew the edges of Rachel's blouse apart slowly, smiling at the black lace bra that was revealed. "Very nice," she pronounced, looking both at the lingerie and the treasures they hid. "I'm going to ask you about specific acts, and I want you to let me know if they turn you on at all," she said. "Turn around."

Rachel did so, and Veronica unhooked her bra. "Face me again. Now....have you ever been restrained in any way?"

Rachel found the woman's low voice nearly mesmerizing, and though she blushed fiercely over some of the questions, she answered them without hesitation. As she spoke, Veronica was slowly tracing the line of Rachel's collarbones, the curve of her breasts, down her ribs. It was done more in an appraising fashion than anything else, but Rachel could feel herself becoming aroused. She hadn't counted on this sort of foreplay from a dominatrix.

"Tell me about your last girlfriend," Veronica instructed next. "But first stand up."

Rachel did so, and Veronica proceeded to unsnap and unzip her slacks. She drew them down slowly, running her palms down along Rachel's hips and thighs as she did so. She reached up to cup the cheeks of her bottom, squeezing firmly, causing Rachel to stutter in her narrative. As Rachel related the story of the last fight before she and Julie had broken up, Veronica inserted a single finger into the waistband of her lace bikini panty and ran it slowly back and forth.

"It sounds a bit as if you were used to getting your own way," she said, looking directly into Rachel's eyes.

Embarrassed, Rachel dropped her eyes and murmured something in response.

"What's that? I couldn't hear you," Veronica said.

"I said, `Yes, I suppose that's true,'" Rachel repeated uncomfortably, steeling herself not to move as Veronica slowly drew her underwear down and off.

The domme clicked her tongue reprovingly. "Too bad I didn't know Julie. I could've suggested some tips to improve your behavior. Kneel down, please."

Rachel mentally gave her hostess full marks for setting up the scene. She had underestimated the powerful effect that being nude in front of someone who was completely dressed could have. She suddenly felt very vulnerable. Veronica placed a hand on the back of Rachel's neck and pulled her gently forward, till she was on all fours. "Do I have your complete attention?" she asked softly.

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