Come True

An eBook By Adrian Hunter.

During her travels through the gutter colonies of the net, she had chanced upon a group of lesbian B D enthusiasts led by a rather forbidding domme who ruled with an iron fist, or at least one that was severely studded. Those admitted to her inner circle were allowed to call her Lady Eleanor in private, but Michelle soon realized most of her clique of admirers preferred her formal title, especially those who seemed to know her in real life, or IRL in abbreviated netspeak.

The Marquise supervised an invitation-only web site, mailing list and regular chat sessions that delved deep and wide in matters of sexual dominance and forbidden submissions. Michelle discovered this secret paradise after she befriended a funny lesbian couple, "Lovely" Rita and "Polythene" Pam ("just like the Beatles!" they had chirped unnecessarily), in a public chat session. Rita and Pam were forever bickering about everything from sharing the keyboard to whose turn it was to polish all their leather, and Michelle got a kick out of their affectionate bitchplay. If she ever got up the guts to switch her gender pref, these are the kind of women she’d want to start with.

After a series of email exchanges, Rita and Pam told her about the club, and decided to introduce her to the Marquise as a potential member. Lady Eleanor had agreed to interview her online, and despite her predominantly hetero/top leanings, the Marquise had agreed to take her on as an "apprentice sub," which Michelle felt was somewhat redundant until she got to know some of the other women in the group.

At first, she had not been allowed to add her comments to the weekly mailings, nor join in any chat sessions. Instead, she lurked, listened, observed and learned.

And, truth be told, giggled more than a little.

These people are nice, but nuts, she had decided. The Marquise had a very complicated series of rules that had to be followed to the letter. Variations and infractions were punished with speed and severity. The guilty were given detailed instructions for punishments to be self-inflicted, along the lines of:

"Take the keys to two pairs of handcuffs, place them at the bottom of a plastic gallon jug filled with water, and freeze the container for 48 hours. When you are ready, place a large plug in your ass and a vibrator running on its lowest setting in your pussy (and don’t forget fresh batteries). Then, put on a pair of rubber panties to keep them from being dislodged, and add some rope around your crotch for insurance. Get the container out of the freezer and put it on the floor. Gag yourself with a head harness. Place a pair of handcuffs around your ankles, and one cuff around your left hand, leaving your right hand free. Lie on your stomach, put your hands behind your back, and bend your knees until you can loop the chain of the cuffs for your wrists around the chain between your ankles. Once the hogtie has been established, snap the open cuff shut around your right wrist."

Michelle had been told it could take up to eight hours for the ice to melt.

When Lady Eleanor finally gave her permission to speak to the group, Michelle assiduously followed all the regulations: waiting her turn, always addressing members by their full formal names (some of which were lavishly long in the style of a faded European court about to be overrun by a peasant revolution), digitally curtseying to those who entered late, always saying "please" and "ma’am," and so on. The Marquise had quickly noticed Michelle’s occasional lapses in spelling, and made it a point to mete out "behavior modifications" for every slip, not that Michelle had any intention of wearing tiny clothespins under her blouse all day at work.

But she quite enjoyed the high level of sophistication and intelligence of the Marquise and her "merry band of muff-munching misfits" (according to the home-page descriptor). They were most patient with her endless questions, as well as generous with praise for her often-wobbly contributions to the letters and the endless river of the chat sessions.

Although males were strictly forbidden, Michelle told Joshua about the Marquise, and even shared unedited chat transcripts and copies of the chain letters. He was much intrigued by the thought of 20-plus women who treated bondage like something to do after coffee at a Junior League meeting, and fairly begged her to introduce him to the group as "ShareY’all," a bubbly blonde b-word who "gets all, like, hot" just thinking about being tied up and ravaged by women "who know how to do all the right things to me."

"Bad idea, Josh," she had written back. "These dykes don’t dick around."

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