Memories Of Long Tall Mary

MEMORIES OF LONG TALL MARY Part 48

by Long Tall Mary

Author’s note: As this series winds on down I wish to express my thanks to those readers who have offered comments, either by written review or Email. Not surprisingly, most of the Emails have been from Syracuse area residents.

The events and characters depicted in this series are fictional. It is intended to provide a plausible account of the practical, logistical and legal challenges faced by a professional dominatrix. For the most part the setting is Onondaga County, NY which includes the City of Syracuse. Since Syracuse only has one medical school, I wish to emphasize that any reference to or depiction of such an institution, employee or student thereof, is likewise fictional.

A fortuitous combination of circumstances enabled me to dispose of Kevin in a much more humane manner than otherwise might have occurred.

It began that evening with a call from my ex sister-in-law Johanna, it was at her instigation that Kevin had been abducted. She asked me if I had read the current Post-Standard, which I had not. It carried a story concerning a major Syracuse area drug bust, amongst those arrested was a reputed kingpin of the local meth trade.

Had I read the story it would have been of no significance to me, however it was to have profound ramifications for Kevin. Earlier today Johanna had been visited by two thugs who demanded to know Kevin’s whereabouts, fortunately she was able to convince them she did not know and the thugs left without incident. It seems that the jailed kingpin suspected Kevin of being an informant for the feds and was responsible for his arrest. The thugs let it be known that a contract was out for him.

Kevin himself was a low level meth dealer, who had drug charges pending against him. After being jailed and unable to make bail he was abruptly released without bail, this by itself would cause one to suspect that he perhaps made some type of deal with the feds.

The second fortuitous development was that I had received a call from Joe, the leather store owner, informing me of a cult that might be interested in acquiring Kevin. The only details he provided was that the cult was a bi-sexual group with a living compound somewhere in a remote area of the Adirondack region. He was vague on whether cult members were free to leave the compound but the impression I received was that they were not.

My spirits soared upon learning of these developments! I promptly confronted Kevin, who by this time was in great physical pain from his flagellation and anal torture, as well as emasculated psychologically from the repeated trashing of his masculinity. He was quite susceptible to any proposition I might broach. Kevin readily admitted that he was the informant, but claimed he had been betrayed by the DEA who had assured him his testimony would not be required and his confidentiality was absolutely secure. In addition he had been required to sign an agreement that he was not eligible for any witness protection program, and that the only consideration he would receive was release without bail and no future jail time.

Kevin realized that I could easily turn him over to the contract enforcers or release him unconditionally. In the event of the former he would be tortured before being executed, if the later he would be forced to relocate scrumptiously to another region. As he was of rather limited sophistication I considered his chances of survival on the street to be slim.

Under the circumstances it was hardly surprising that the worthless piece of trash accepted the offer to live with the cult. Arrangements were made for transporters from the cult to take delivery of him at 8:00PM the following day. Until then I permitted him the comfort of sitting unrestrained in the cell with the requirement that he not remove any of his female attire. Due to the lack of staff to assist me, Kevin was not subjected to any further discipline.

The transporters arrived on schedule, two were male and one female. All three were in their twenties and dressed in jeans and black leather jackets, both males had shaved heads and the female had a punk rock style hairdo. None of them appeared particularly friendly and only one of the three, the heavier set male did any talking.

Kevin was removed from the cell and the transport procedure was explained to him. It was nearly a three hour drive, he would not be restrained but was fitted with a stun belt. Any improper behavior would result in a disabling shock being administered via remote control. Kevin was given a demo shock which caused him to cringe in pain and paralyzed him for nearly a minute.

To complement Kevin’s bra and black vinyl mini I had provided him with a cheap, tight fitting polyester zip up jacket as well as a set of five inch heels. Due to his inexperience walking in heels two of the transporters guided him, one holding each arm, out to the transport vehicle. He was placed in the rear of the two door Honda Civic with the female sitting beside him, the two males in front.

The transporters departed without as much as saying good bye, my presence was essentially ignored. Kevin being the despicable ingrate that he is didn’t even have the decency to thank me for my hospitality. Still it gave me a feeling of great relief as the Honda Civic backed out of the drive and headed down the road, its taillights quickly fading from sight.

About two weeks later I received a message from Joe to stop by his store. When I did he showed me a photograph, purportedly taken at the compound. It showed Kevin and another unidentified male, who appeared to be in his twenties, lying side by side on a bed both wearing jeans and no top. Each was bound hand and foot, and cleave gagged with some type of cloth, it was apparent that they had been ordered to pose for the photo.

The photo was hardly sexually explicit and the only information he could provide was that Kevin had proven to be quite difficult, and was being trained to satisfy the sexual needs of certain male cult members. I thanked Joe for his efforts and assured him that I would reciprocate in any way that I could.

For the next few months my client bookings were few and far between. This enabled me to spend more time at my bar which continued to prosper. My attraction to Bernadette was such that I attempted to seduce her but my advances were spurned. She was more interested in seducing her university professors, attempting to blackmail them into giving her good grades. Our relationship is temporarily in a rift and her future status as my associate is in question. I haven’t ruled out subjecting her to a forced disciplinary session.

During this period it appears that I have been targeted by various government agencies, in an orchestrated effort to decimate my bar business and ultimately my dominance in the local dominatrix sphere. Initially I suspected that a disgruntled former client was responsible but definitive proof was lacking.

The first target was the East Syracuse bar, which for years has hosted the monthly meetings of the local bondage support group, of which I serve as facilitator. Despite the fact that the meetings are held in a separate room, with no nudity or alcohol consumption permitted, the bar received a ten day suspension from the State Liquor Authority for “permitting lewd and prurient conduct” to transpire upon the premises. Needless to say the support group was not permitted to continue its monthly meetings and a new venue is still being sought.

Soon thereafter the SLA attempted to take action against my liquor license on the grounds that I had concealed my conviction for Promoting Prostitution. It cost me another three thousand dollars for a lawyer and the SLA charge was dismissed. The conviction was more than five years old and the hearing officer ruled that I was never asked about it when renewing my license, and that the SLA waited too long before taking action.

Earlier in the year I beat another SLA charge, this was the time I had handcuffed and stripped an unruly male patron at my bar. I suspect that the more recent charge was in retaliation for this. It has resulted in heightened vigilance at my bar, the staff has been instructed to be especially diligent in checking younger patrons for proof of age. Another change , made with reluctance is that I no longer permit subs to be led about in the bar on leashes.

The state continued its harassment when about a month later I was audited by the State IRS claiming that I owed thirty five hundred dollars in back taxes. Once again I was forced to retain an attorney, it cost me one thousand dollars but I ended up paying no back taxes.

Next to be targeted was “Newhart”, my psychiatrist friend whom I’ve written about in past chapters. That is not his real name but he resembles Bob Newhart in his demeanor. He is a part time Associate Professor at the local medical school in addition to having a private psychiatric practice . “Newhart” is a regular customer at my bar and one of the few males that I’ve ever had a non BDSM relationship with.

Over the years “Newhart” has been generous in prescribing sedative drugs for me as well as certain other medications used to treat my neurological tremor syndrome. He was audited by the DEA over his prescribing practices but withstood scrutiny, and is still prescribing the meds for me. “Newhart” reported that the feds seemed particularly interested in what medications had been prescribed for me.

Needless to say this chain of events has caused a fair amount of paranoia for me. I even went so far as hiring a private investigator to sweep my home for wireless bugs or telephone taps. Fortunately one of my regular customers knows someone who works for the SLA and was able to obtain some information in strict confidence, he would not reveal his source but I had no reason to doubt the credibility of my source.

The gist of the matter is that someone at the SLA was upset that I had beat the first charge, the handcuffing and stripping of the patron. The particular SLA official was known to hold grudges and did some further investigation which revealed my involvement in the bondage support group, so the East Syracuse bar was targeted. Somewhere along the line they discovered my previous conviction and went after me for that, again unsuccessfully.

This explanation partially eased my concerns, at least to the degree that I knew the person and motive. It still didn’t answer the question of who was responsible for the audit of my psychiatrist. My source was unable to account for this either, but could not rule out the possibility that the spiteful SLA official had somehow learned what meds I was taking and passed that information to the feds.

One practice that I had introduced locally was hosting introductory bondage parties at the homes of various women, for this I received no compensation. Typically they were attended by six or seven women with no bondage experience, but interested in learning more about the subject in a safe environment. The parties were quite a turn on for me as the format called for one of the ladies to volunteer to be my demonstrator. This proved to be quite amusing at times, despite the fact that no nudity was involved it seemed like no want wanted to be the volunteer, leaving me the pleasure of selecting one.

Over an approximate six month period I hosted six such parties. While I thought that the level of interest by the guests was high, the demonstrations failed to generate any new clients for myself or any other dominatrix, so I’m no longer hosting such parties.

One source of continuing gratification is the annual sorority pledging ritual, at a prestigious liberal arts college in an adjoining county. For five of the past six years I’ve been invited to conduct the ritual, which needless to say involves bondage. The young pledges are partially stripped, bound and subjected to caning.

It is very light bondage with no overt sexual acts performed. Except for painful red welts on their buttocks for a few days, the pledges are none the worse for their experience. My annual demonstrations have generated only two private clients, but it gives me a good feeling to know that I have made it possible for the young wenches to experience the pleasure of bondage, in most cases for the first time. I have to admit that it has been extremely difficult to resist the temptation to hogtie some of the more curvaceous coed cuties, and transport them to my home in my van for personalized training.

Mother Jugs, the lesbian biker gang leader who procured Lori for servitude sent me a second video depicting her experiences. The film, with no audio, shows Lori nude and chained by a collar, sitting in the corner of a basement. A burly male biker type approaches and she immediately rises to a position of rigid attention. The biker pulls up a chair, pulls down his pants and sits down. Lori then drops to her knees and using her hands and mouth performs fellatio on the biker.

Mother Jugs reports that Lori is adapting to her servitude and is no longer continually restrained, but is confined to the club house. Her sexual duties are to serve both the female gang members and the male visitors with the non sexual duties consisting primarily of housekeeping chores. Her reward for good behavior is being allowed to use drugs. Jugs doubts Lori will ever ride with the gang and will likely be kept indefinitely in residential servitude.

I have been unable to elicit any information concerning the welfare of Kevin. When I spoke with Joe at the leather store recently he related a hypothetical scenario:The proximity of the cult compound to the St. Lawrence Seaway is such that it wouldn’t be that difficult to place a slave aboard one of the numerous ocean going vessels that traverse the waterway. The slave would then be shipped to a foreign country and procured by a private owner.

While I knew better than to press Joe for more information, I cannot help but think that the hypothetical scenario has already materialized. I only wish I could personally have participated in his training at the compound, as well as transporting him to the ship.

END PART 48