“Oh yeah, baby. Fuck, that feels good! Mmm. Faster, baby, faster. Like that… oh yes… oh yes…OH YEAH!!!”
Emma, sitting opposite me cross-legged on the carpet, slid another card across the empty space between us. I picked it up and looked at it in dismay.
“Emma, you bitch! Were you choosing which cards to deal while I was on that call?”
Emma grinned and sniggered, covering the little bulb of her headset mic. “You don’t have to close your eyes when you come, you know. You don’t get paid extra for that.”
“I can pace it out better that way â€“ I can hear how close he is. That’s why I can get them all the way to the ten-minute mark and you let them blow at six or seven,” I sneered.
I tossed my hand of cards down in disgust. “I’m out, ladies.”
Standing up, I picked my way over Jane’s reclining form. She was still looking at her cards while exhorting the guy on the other end of the phone to stroke it harder. If they only knew that she was eight months pregnant, I wondered what her callers would think.
I pressed the red button on the headset mic’s terminal to talk to the operator. “Jen, can you put me on unavailable, I have to go for a pee.” I walked over to my cubicle, dragging the length of extension wire behind me and unjacked from the terminal. I passed a clutch of girls sitting in a circle playing monopoly while moaning, and made my way to the outer office.
The tiny voice in my earpiece responded. “Yup, no prob. It’s slow right now anyway.”
On my way back from the washroom, I ran into Martha, the supervisor. She was looking harried as usual and the minute she caught sight of me, she put on her pleading face.
“No, I can’t work a double.” I preempted what surely was going to be a request to cover for someone who’d called in sick for the eight am shift.
“Did I ask that?” demanded Martha, feigning outrage. “Would I do that to you?”
“You did that twice last week, Martha. What do you want?”
“Beth isn’t going to show for this shift. She’s got a family emergency. I need someone to cover her calls.”
IPT, or International Pleasure Telecom, was a telephone sex outfit that took up the second floor of a dingy, low-rise office building in an industrial suburb of Vancouver. The lines were open 24 hours but the biggest shift by far was midnight to eight. I started working at IPT to supplement the income I wasn’t getting from my small specialty bookstore. As jobs went, it was very odd but definitely lucrative. Callers paid $5.99 per minute to talk to a girl, with a ten minute limit imposed by the credit card companies. Pay was a minimum wage rate, plus a bonus based on how many minutes a caller spent on the line with you. The object of the job was to get the caller off at as close to the ten minute mark as possible.
ITP was mostly a straight college-girls in dorms affair, if you were to believe the ads in the dirty magazines. The truth was 2,000 square feet of open carpeted office space with cubicles, chairs on wheels and twenty to thirty girls of all ages, races and types wearing wired headsets. Most of the time we all sat in groups in the middle of the room on the floor, playing cards while we took the calls.
There were a number of “specialty” lines as well: two gay male lines, two kinky lines and, for reasons which totally escaped me, a very popular tarot card line. All the people who worked the lines sat in the same room, but oddly enough, they didn’t mix all that much. The two boys working the gay lines were a little social clique of their own, Madam Wanda of the Tarot spent most of her time knitting, and the two women who worked the kink lines kept strictly to themselves.
“Who’s Beth?” I asked. I was almost sure I’d never met a Beth. Maybe she was new.
“Beth’s on the kink line,” said Martha, airily.
“Shit, Martha. I don’t know anything about that kind of stuff. I’m not going to risk my bonus because I don’t know what gets them off over there! Why don’t you ask one of the girls who’ve worked here longer. Ask Jane â€“ Jane’s an old hand. She could get a blind, deaf and mute person off.”
Martha turned up the volume on her totally harried, totally helpless look. “I’ve already asked. The regular girls hate that freaky shit â€“ they say it’s too hard.”
“Jeeze Martha! Why ask me? I’ve only worked here a month. Why would I know what to do?”
She looked at me with one raised eyebrow. “Well… you’ve got a pierced nose and spiky hair. Aren’t you into that kind of stuff?”
“I’m a goth, for god’s sake, Martha! Not a pervert!”
“Oh, excu-use me, ma’am. I didn’t think there was a difference.”
My jaw dropped. Christ, people were stupid. “Well, there is!”
Martha looked at me conspiratorially. “I’ll double your per-minute bonus,” she whispered. “Come on, just for tonight.”
I stood there calculating the financial implications. Normally, I’d clear about sixty five dollars a night in pay plus bonus. This might take it up way over the hundred mark. On the other hand, it could be a huge drop if I couldn’t keep the callers on long enough. I wasn’t sold, but I was interested.
“Can someone train me?”
Martha smiled crookedly; she’d gotten what she wanted. “Listen in on Barb’s calls for an hour. That should be enough. I’ll let Jen know you’re switching.”
I trudged over to the dark corner where Beth and Barb usually worked. Barb was sitting at her cubicle, doodling on a writing pad while she talked. She looked up, gave me a wink and pushed out the office chair next to her. I sat down and looked at her nervously. She took my headset jack from me and plugged it into the secondary socket on her terminal.
Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for the shouting to start.
“Mistress… please… don’t make me do it.”
“John… don’t be coy with your Mistress. You know you want it. You want to get fucked, you dirty boy. You want to get fucked up the ass.”
“Yes… I do…I’ve wanted it for a long time.”
“And now your Mistress is telling you to do it â€“ and you disobey her?” Barb’s voice hard a diamond hard edge by the end of the sentence.
“Not disobey, Mistress. I would never do that â€“ never disobey you. But I’m scared now.”
“Don’t be scared, John. Ssh… I’m here with you now. Push the dildo in, slowly… slowly.”
“It hurts,” the male voice whimpered.
“That’s because you are fighting me, John. Don’t fight me…. let me in. Let your Mistress take you.”
There was a low moan on the other end of the line.
“Good boy. Sh-h. Take it in further â€“ accept it. That’s right. Can you feel me filling your ass? Taking you? Owning you?”
The man’s breathing had grown erratic; he gulped air and keened. “Yes-ss. Oh, yes, Mistress.”
“Now, John. I’m going to fuck you with that big fat dildo. I’m going to use your ass until I come. And you’re going to love it. Work it, John.”
“Fuck yourself with it. See me standing behind you, sliding that slick hard dick into your sweet little ass. Does the harness look good, John?”
“Oh, Mistress. You look beautiful… fucking me. Taking me. Ugh… I’m going to come, Mistress.”
“Not yet, John. Not until I say.”
Between the harsh breaths came pitiful, desperate mews. “Please Mistress… please. I beg you.”
“Sh-h John. Be obedient. Listen to your Mistress.”
“But…but… oh GOD it’s good. I need to come.”
“Are you ready, John? Are you ready to come for your Mistress?”
“YES, OH YES PLEASE!” The disembodied voice was a strange mix of joy and intense submissiveness.
“Then do it now, John. Release for your Mistress.”
Stuttered breaths were shattered by a howl of pleasure. He was coming and coming. It seemed to go on forever.
“Was that good, John? Did that feel good?”
A wet sob spluttered across the line. “Mistress, thank you. Thank you. Oh, god. Thank you.”
Barb smiled at me and winked, then checked her timer. “John, you’ve been such a good boy for me. Your Mistress is very proud. Now clean yourself up and crawl into bed.”
“Are we out of time, Mistress?”
“Yes. I’m afraid we are, John. Get some sleep.”
“I could call you back, Mistress. We could talk for a while. Please.”
Barb gave a low, throaty laugh. “Do what your Mistress says, John. Get some sleep.”
“Until tomorrow then, Mistress? I’ll miss you.”
“Until tomorrow, John.”
I glanced at the timer on her watch. 09:54. “Wow.”
Barb pushed the red button on her headset interrupt. “Jen. Close me down for a couple of minutes, would you?” She looked at me and winked again. “I know there’s no one else â€“ but if you’d give me a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”
She settled back into her chair smiling and slipped off the headset. Barb was tiny, not more than about 5’2″ and certainly less than 100 pounds. Short cropped blonde hair and a soft, full face. “What’s your name?”
“Well, Liz… are you freaked out yet?” Her smile was warm and full of good humour.
I thought for a little bit. I had actually become so involved in the intimacy of the call, I hadn’t really considered how I felt about it. On consideration, I decided I wasn’t freaked out, but I was absolutely certain I couldn’t do this.
“No. Not freaked. Really impressed. I’m not sure if I can do this.”
“Why? Does it disgust you?”
“No. Not at all. But you sound so…authoritative. And you really controlled him. It’s not what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
“A lot of shouting.” I grinned. “Lots of Elsa, She-Wolf of the SS stuff.”
Barb smirked and let out another low, growly laugh. “That’s what everyone thinks. But it’s not about that at all. It’s about getting deep enough into their heads to control them with what they want.”
“How do you know what they want?”
“They tell me.”
“Simple as that? You ask and they tell you?”
“Well, making them admit what they want is a big part of the play. It’s liberating for them to admit it. And at the same time, I get the information I need to take them further.”
“Like John? Is he pretty much the norm?”
Barb laughed again. “He calls every night.”
I was stunned. Every so often, I might get a repeat call on the straight line. But it was rare, usually a coincidence. Even when it happened, the guys never realized it. They weren’t really interested in the person at the other end of the phone; they merely wanted to get off fast.
“Every night? Shit! But this was the first time you made him do that?”
“Oh, no. He wants it to be the first time, every time.”
“Ready for the next call?” asked Barb, slipping her headset back on.
“I guess so.”
“This time, I’ll introduce you. Pipe in if you feel confident. But never speak if you think you are going to sound unsure. It puts them right off.”
The next call was a joke, a couple of frat boys playing around. From the moment they came on line, something happened to Barb’s face and I could tell she was angry, but it didn’t show up in the tone of her voice at all.
“Hey, baby. How’s it goin?”
“I’m very well. How are you?”
“Oh, ya know â€“ just chillin’ here with my buddy. We thought we’d call you and get you to dominate us. You do that, right?”
“Are you sure that’s what you’re after?”
“Sure we’re sure, babe. So… do your stuff. Do the domination thing.”
I kept my eyes on Barb, but I could only see her profile now, her rather sharp brow, her neat, pointed nose, the edge of her wide, expressive lips. She’d turned toward her cubicle desk and was supporting her chin on interlaced fingers. The little plastic timer clock was positioned between her elbows, front and center. She was watching the seconds flash by.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Uh… well… Frank. It’s Frank, yeah.”
“Alright, Frank. Do you know anything about domination, Frank?”
There was a deeper chuckle in the background. Frank’s buddy was obviously on an extension in another room. “Sure I do, babe. All those whips and stuff. You do have a whip, don’t you babe?”
“Is that what you think domination is about?”
“Sure it is…fuck yeah!”
“Then I don’t think I can help you, Frank.”
“What do you mean you can’t help me, bitch? You’re supposed to get me off, aren’t you? So do your little whip thing and get me the fuck off, ho!”
“I’m afraid I don’t get you off. You get yourself off and I help. But I don’t think I can help you.”
The conversation devolved into name-calling on Frank’s end. He started sending a load of abuse down the line. It was nasty, misogynist stuff that had me wincing. It went on and on. Every so often, Barb would put a question to him but he never answered them. The abuse simply escalated, and Frank’s buddy on the extension started laughing and joining in, calling her awful things. But Barb began to grin. She looked over at me and I guess she realized I was a bit distressed. Then she tapped a long, polished fingernail on the timer.
The invectives kept coming: “…you stupid whore. Do you really think you can dominate me? Fuck you, you bitch! If you were here now, I’d fuck your ass till it bled, you cunt…”
Barb leaned back against her chair and waited for a break in the stream of crap. She cleared her throat rather loudly and said, “This may have been the dumbest way you ever spent $60 dollars, loser.” Then she hung up on him, right at the ten minute mark.
“Whew!” I said, as the line when dead.
“Don’t you get those on the vanilla lines?”
“Not often. If it happens, I turn off my headset and wait till they hang up.”
“We get them a lot. I wait until they’ve run out of time and then let them know how stupid they are.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Nope. But I feel very sorry for the women in their lives.”
The call tone beeped through the headset: new call.
“Hello? Is this Mistress Barb?”
“Yes, it is. Hello Brad. How are you today?”
“I’m very well, Mistress. Thank you for asking. How are you?” The voice on the line was a little gravelly. Not the voice of a young guy, perhaps middle aged. His diction was excellent and his manners were a world apart from the caller before.
Barb grinned and winked at me. “I’m in an excellent mood, Brad. I have a friend here with me â€“ another Mistress. Would you like me to introduce you?”
Suddenly my heart started thumping. I wasn’t sure why but it was like this is it… I’m on!
“I’d like that very much, Mistress. It would be a pleasure to be able to serve you both.”
“You’re such a sweet pet, Brad. This is Mistress Elizabeth. She’s a very beautiful woman. Five foot eight, long auburn hair… and I would love you to be able to see what she’s wearing. It’s the sexiest latex corset you have ever seen, the creamy white skin of her breasts overflowing the cups. She’s so sexy, Brad. Say hello to her.”
The voice on the phone stuttered a little. “Um, oh… hello, Mistress Elizabeth. You sound so wonderful.”
For a second, I was paralyzed with fear. Barb looked at me and nodded encouragingly. I swallowed and spoke, trying to keep my voice nice and steady. “Hello, Brad. Mistress Barb has told me so much about you. You sound like a very sweet boy.”
My eyes were locked onto Barb’s, waiting for a reaction. She grinned her approval.
“I’m sure that with two beautiful Mistresses here with you, you must be getting very excited, Brad. But I’d be so disappointed if I found out you were stroking your cock without my permission. Are you doing that?”
Clearly he was; the jolting, rhythmic breathing gave him away. “Well… I’m sorry, Mistress. I can’t help it.”
“He’s such a greedy little brat, Mistress Elizabeth,” said Barb. There was no humour in her face anymore. She was all business. “Sometimes I just don’t know what to do with this boy. What do you suggest, Mistress Elizabeth?”
I sat there choked for a second. My brain was rushing around trying to figure out what she wanted. I was used to getting guys off, not stopping them.
“It’s such a problem, Mistress Barb. I have the same problem with my own… slaves. Is there some special punishment you give to yours?”
“Well, I have a number of special punishments, but I’d like to hear your suggestion.”
I thought I’d gotten out of that corner rather well, until I realized she’d put me in there on purpose.
“Well… I’d take his left ball in my gloved hand and give it a good sharp squeeze.” I tried desperately not to make it sound like a question, but I wasn’t sure I’d pulled it off.
The moan at the other end of the line ended in a breathy whimper.
“Mmm, you’re such a cruel and strict Mistress,” said Barb. “I think that is exactly what I’ll do. Brad? You heard Mistress Elizabeth… do it!”
The sound on the line became muffled, as if Brad were rummaging around for something. I heard the minute he’d obeyed Barb’s command; he gave a tight little yelp.
“Harder, Brad. You know the pain will make you feel so much better. Squeeze it harder.”
“Yes-s, ow! Yes, Mistress Barb.”
“Make it sting, Brad. Take your punishment for being the greedy little slave you are.”
The cry that followed practically made me jump. It sounded as if he’d really hurt himself.
“Mmm, yes. Good boy, Brad. That feels better now, doesn’t it?” purred Barb.
“M-mistress, yes, it does. So much better now.” There was an interesting, sleepy quality that had crept into his voice. “May I have your permission to stroke my cock now, Mistress.”
“Yes, Brad… you can, but only gently. You know I want to have control over when you come and how. And I want you to talk to me while you touch yourself. Tell your Mistress what you’re thinking about.”
There was tangible relief in his voice as he started to stroke again, speaking as he did. “Mistress… I’m thinking about serving you…kneeling at your feet…begging you to let me… let me touch your shoes…with my tongue.”
“That would please me very much, Brad. But I would want to take my stilettos off and get you to suck my toes for me. That makes me very hot. Lick each one of them until they’re all wet.”
“Oh certainly… Mis… tress. I’d lick them… until they were all clean.”
“Then, Brad, I’d want you to take the head of your cock and rub it all over my wet feet.”
The groan was one of pure bliss. He was there, in his head, sliding his throbbing cock over her slippery feet; I knew it. I could picture what he was seeing. Part of me was horrified to realize I’d become so pulled into the call. Part was fascinated.
“Mmm. That feels so good, Brad. You can be such an obedient little slave when you want to be. Push your cock between the soles of my feet and worship them with it.”
His need was palpable. The speed with which it came over him was astonishing. “Please…. please Mistress! I have to come….on your feet. Please let me.”
“I’m pinching my nipples a little while I watch you, Brad. I know you need to come so bad and I love the way your cock feels between my feet. Come for me, my little pet. Come for me now.”
The line went so quiet, I thought he’d hung up. Somewhere in the middle of the call I’d become lost in the story of it. The silence brought me back into the drab colored room and the fluorescent strip lights. I opened my eyes, not realizing I’d ever closed them, and looked at Barb. She was smiling knowingly and, to my utter horror, I could feel the blood burning in my cheeks.
Brad cried a stuttered, strangled note, something like a wounded bird. Then I could hear him catching his breath.
“Mistress… that was wonderful.”
“It was very nice for me too, Brad. Have a nice evening.”
“You too, Mistress Barb…and you too Mistress Elizabeth. Thank you for listening.”
“It was my pleasure, Brad,” I replied. It had been.
“You did fine,” said Barb.
I glanced at her doubtfully but said nothing. I shook my head.
She cocked her head to one side and smiled a little crooked smile. “No, really Liz! You are going to be good at this. I can tell.”
Suddenly her gaze was making me squirm. “How can you tell?”
“Because it turned you on.”
I started to protest, but she cut me off.
“Don’t even bother trying to deny it, Liz. I can smell you.” The tone of her voice reminded me of the way she spoke on the calls. I blanched and crossed my legs tight.
“I…I don’t really know what to say. I’ve never had a call that turned me on before.”
Barb leaned over and put her hand on my knee. Her pale fingers gave it a squeeze. “Well, you’ve been working the wrong line then, haven’t you?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you turned on by the calls sometimes?”
“What do you think?”
Honestly, I didn’t know. If she was turned on, she hid it pretty well: no flush, no sweat, no heavy breathing. Maybe she had great control.
“I don’t know.”
“Once you get to know me a little better, you will.”