June 11 2009: Mavis again

Due to an early morning appointment, Mavis didn’t want me there until 11:00. I wore one of the new mini’s Lachandra made, a print spaghetti-strapped tank top and ankle strap Lucite heels. I parked in her garage as she requested, pulled down the door and walked to the back steps where I striped nude, save for the heels. She was sitting on the sofa, acknowledged me with a smile and sent me to the kitchen to get her a glass of sweet tea. When I brought her the tea she gestured to chair which had a towel folded across the seat and told me we needed to talk. She began by saying Daphne came over yesterday and they’d talked about the unfortunate incident in the garage. She’d seen this coming on for weeks and told me this was not the first time Daphne had trouble controlling her moods. Her meds, heavy drinking and hotter weather sometimes contributed to what I experienced. She scolded us (you, me, Katrina) for not listening to her about going through her before Daphne was involved. She didn’t say what meds, what condition she takes them for and I didn’t ask. I simply listened and thanked her. She concluded by saying it would be best to put Daphne aside for a while. I asked how Daphne was and she said fine other than some superficial cuts and bruises. She said we will not discuss the incident at Daphne’s again. She asked how I was feeling and I say okay. I asked for Joan’s phone number and she said I’d have it by the end of the day. Joan is undoubtedly her favorite family member and has done quite well for herself as a model. She’s her oldest sister’s daughter. The conversation shifted to the sessions I’d mailed her regarding Jasmine. She’d read them thoroughly and found it appalling I’d allowed myself to become involved with someone like her. I started to interject that it had been forced on me but she stopped me and said nonetheless it’d happened. She asked tons of questions about my interaction with Jasmine and I bared my soul about the panties, her youthful wild exuberance to beat me. I told her I’d been asked to teach Jasmine to domme me. She scoffed at that idea because Jasmine needed authority and guidance and she probably wasn’t getting it from Susan and certainly wouldn’t get it from me because as a white woman I didn’t’ understand the needs of a black teen. Also I was hardly an authority figure and could never be one in Jasmine’s eyes since I’d sunk so low in my whore habits. She said the events where Katrina was involved were too random for her to be seen as an authority figure. Her question to me was who is watching out for Jasmine? She said she didn’t know what to do here. It was obvious to her I had entered a lifestyle of servitude and humiliation that was despicable. She reiterated the number of women and the various humiliations as indisputable evidence of my inability to control my life. She continued on that theme for a few minutes then said the point of all this is since it’s apparent I can’t say “no” to some things, she didn’t want Jasmine to become another Daphne’s garage incident in my life. She surmised that Jasmine could get in trouble if something didn’t change. 

 She halfway shifted her thoughts again and said she imagined some people see her as a rambling old woman but in her life she’s had experience dominating white women beyond my wildest imagination. She recognizes a need within some women to be controlled by others and I definitely have that need.

 Jasmine on the other hand must have a need to dominate; she just doesn’t know how to do it properly. I sat there amazed. Point blank, she told me to give her Jasmines phone number in order to visit with Jasmine and Susan and get their perspective. I was stunned. She snapped her fingers and said give it to her now. Powerless, I reached into my purse and found the number for her. She told me to go downstairs and wait for her. I did. 

She came down with some folded towels and placed them on the floor against the series of 2 x 4’s that support the staircase on one side. She had me sit on the towels, remove my heels and then cuffed my hands behind me and around one of the vertical 2 x 4’s. She raised her dress stuck her pussy straight in my face and told me to act like the whore she knew me to be. I ate her until she breathed a sigh of relief then pissed on me. She went upstairs and left me in darkness. I sat there trembling at this turn of events which was far beyond anything I could imagine. 

 Cuffed and seated as I was, I had less freedom than in the cage. Her piss had soaked the towels and I had no way to avoid sitting in it. It wasn’t long after that until I added my own piss to hers. I couldn’t do anything but think. I could faintly hear her talking, presumably on the phone and I chilled with what might be. Shortly I heard her phone ring twice and more faint conversation. Time passed much too slowly until she came down the stairs again. She walked over and pissed on me again without any comment which truly made me feel like her toilet. 

She sat in her old chair and smiled. She’d spoken with Susan on the phone and also had a short conversation with Jasmine whom she said sounds like a perfectly charming girl. I winced. She paused, gauging my reaction; then said she got the feeling I was afraid of Jasmine. I replied yes. She asked why and I said because she beats me. She shrugged and said any person in my situation should realize beatings are a way of life and something I deserve for corrupting that girl. She added that’s all the more reason for her to meet this girl and see what makes her tick. 

 Surprisingly, she uncuffed me and said there was work to be done outside in her garden. I first had to clean up the pee spots and wash out the towels then went upstairs where she was waiting with an old smock for me to wear in the yard. Barefooted and in the ragged smock she led me to the backyard and showed me what needed to be done. She got gardening tools out of the garage and told me to get busy. In mid 80’s heat and sweltering humidity I worked while she sat in the shade of her back porch and watched me. It wasn’t long before I was drenched in perspiration. Occasionally she came out gave me water and checked on my progress, telling me to get it finished before it rained this afternoon. She reminded me the last time I was here she told me I should be dressed in rags and here I was and how lucky I was to have any clothes on at all. I thanked her for her generosity. She said a man was coming to replace her rickety old fence around the backyard with the highest privacy fence possible and then we won’t have to worry about clothes. I kept working and sweating. 

 When I finished she gave told me I could go and there’d be no cumming for me today. I thanked her and asked if I could shower before I put in clothes on. She said we haven’t discussed shower privileges and until we do, the best she could offer was the sink in the basement and the old piss towels I’d rinsed out. My heart sank into my stomach but I thanked her, stripped off the smock outside and went to the basement to wash up. My first thought was this is racial slavery in reverse from 150 years ago. I also had to wash out the smock and hang it across a clothes line in the basement to dry. When I came up I was drained and she saw the look on my face. She’d been rough on me today but in her opinion I needed it to get the unfortunate events of the past week out of my mind. In a way she was right because the entire time I was laboring in her back yard it never crossed my mind. She reminded me to see her next week and I promised. She gave me Joan’s number. I thanked her allowing me to be with her. I dressed on the steps and drove home.