â€œOh yeah, baby. Fuck, that feels good! Mmm. Faster, baby, faster. Like thatâ€¦ oh yesâ€¦ oh yesâ€¦OH YEAH!!!â€
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.
â€œEmma, you bitch! Were you choosing which cards to deal while I was on that call?â€
Emma grinned and sniggered, covering the little bulb of her headset mic. â€œYou donâ€™t have to close your eyes when you come, you know. You donâ€™t get paid extra for that.â€
â€œI can pace it out better that way â€“ I can hear how close he is. Thatâ€™s why I can get them all the way to the ten-minute mark and you let them blow at six or seven,â€ I sneered.
I tossed my hand of cards down in disgust. â€œIâ€™m out, ladies.â€
Standing up, I picked my way over Janeâ€™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 micâ€™s terminal to talk to the operator. â€œJen, can you put me on unavailable, I have to go for a pee.â€ 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. â€œYup, no prob. Itâ€™s slow right now anyway.â€
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.
â€œNo, I canâ€™t work a double.â€ I preempted what surely was going to be a request to cover for someone whoâ€™d called in sick for the eight am shift.
â€œDid I ask that?â€ demanded Martha, feigning outrage. â€œWould I do that to you?â€
â€œYou did that twice last week, Martha. What do you want?â€
â€œBeth isnâ€™t going to show for this shift. Sheâ€™s got a family emergency. I need someone to cover her calls.â€
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 wasnâ€™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 â€œspecialtyâ€ 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 didnâ€™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.
â€œWhoâ€™s Beth?â€ I asked. I was almost sure Iâ€™d never met a Beth. Maybe she was new.
â€œBethâ€™s on the kink line,â€ said Martha, airily.
â€œShit, Martha. I donâ€™t know anything about that kind of stuff. Iâ€™m not going to risk my bonus because I donâ€™t know what gets them off over there! Why donâ€™t you ask one of the girls whoâ€™ve worked here longer. Ask Jane â€“ Janeâ€™s an old hand. She could get a blind, deaf and mute person off.â€
Martha turned up the volume on her totally harried, totally helpless look. â€œIâ€™ve already asked. The regular girls hate that freaky shit â€“ they say itâ€™s too hard.â€
â€œJeeze Martha! Why ask me? Iâ€™ve only worked here a month. Why would I know what to do?â€
She looked at me with one raised eyebrow. â€œWellâ€¦ youâ€™ve got a pierced nose and spiky hair. Arenâ€™t you into that kind of stuff?â€
â€œIâ€™m a goth, for godâ€™s sake, Martha! Not a pervert!â€
â€œOh, excu-use me, maâ€™am. I didnâ€™t think there was a difference.â€
My jaw was half-open. Christ, people were stupid. â€œWell, there is!â€
Martha looked at me conspiratorially. â€œIâ€™ll double your per-minute bonus,â€ she whispered. â€œCome on, just for tonight.â€
I stood there calculating the financial implications. Normally, Iâ€™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 couldnâ€™t keep the callers on long enough. I wasnâ€™t sold, but I was interested.
â€œCan someone train me?â€
Martha smiled crookedly; sheâ€™d gotten what she wanted. â€œListen in on Barbâ€™s calls for an hour. That should be enough. Iâ€™ll let Jen know youâ€™re switching.â€
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.
â€œMistressâ€¦ pleaseâ€¦ donâ€™t make me do it.â€
â€œJohnâ€¦ donâ€™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.â€
â€œYesâ€¦ I doâ€¦Iâ€™ve wanted it for a long time.â€
â€œAnd now your Mistress is telling you to do it â€“ and you disobey her?â€ Barbâ€™s voice hard a diamond hard edge by the end of the sentence.
â€œNot disobey, Mistress. I would never do that â€“ never disobey you. But Iâ€™m scared now.â€
â€œDonâ€™t be scared, John. Sshâ€¦ Iâ€™m here with you now. Push the dildo in, slowlyâ€¦ slowly.â€
â€œIt hurts,â€ the male voice whimpered.
â€œThatâ€™s because you are fighting me, John. Donâ€™t fight meâ€¦. let me in. Let your Mistress take you.â€
There was a low moan on the other end of the line.
â€œGood boy. Sh-h. Take it in further â€“ accept it. Thatâ€™s right. Can you feel me filling your ass? Taking you? Owning you?â€
The manâ€™s breathing had grown erratic; he gulped air and keened. â€œYesss. Oh, yes, Mistress.â€
â€œNow, John. Iâ€™m going to fuck you with that big fat dildo. Iâ€™m going to use your ass until I come. And youâ€™re going to love it. Work it, John.â€
â€œFuck yourself with it. See me standing behind you, sliding that slick hard dick into your sweet little ass. Does the harness look good, John?â€
â€œOh, Mistress. You look beautifulâ€¦ fucking me. Taking me. Ughâ€¦ Iâ€™m going to come, Mistress.â€
â€œNot yet, John. Not until I say.â€
Between the harsh breaths came pitiful, desperate mews. â€œPlease Mistressâ€¦ please. I beg you.â€
â€œSh-h John. Be obedient. Listen to your Mistress.â€
â€œButâ€¦butâ€¦ oh GOD itâ€™s good. I need to come.â€
â€œAre you ready, John? Are you ready to come for your Mistress?â€
â€œYES, OH YES PLEASE!â€ The disembodied voice was a strange mix of joy and intense submissiveness.
â€œThen do it now, John. Release for your Mistress.â€
Stuttered breaths were shattered by a howl of pleasure. He was coming and coming. It seemed to go on forever.
â€œWas that good, John? Did that feel good?â€
A wet sob spluttered across the line. â€œMistress, thank you. Thank you. Oh, god. Thank you.â€
Barb smiled at me and winked, then checked her timer. â€œJohn, youâ€™ve been such a good boy for me. Your Mistress is very proud. Now clean yourself up and crawl into bed.â€
â€œAre we out of time, Mistress?â€
â€œYes. Iâ€™m afraid we are, John. Get some sleep.â€
â€œI could call you back, Mistress. We could talk for a while. Please.â€
Barb gave a low, throaty laugh. â€œDo what your Mistress says, John. Get some sleep.â€
â€œUntil tomorrow then, Mistress? Iâ€™ll miss you.â€
â€œUntil tomorrow, John.â€
I glanced at the timer on her watch. 09:54. â€œWow.â€
Barb pushed the red button on her headset interrupt. â€œJen. Close me down for a couple of minutes, would you?â€ She looked at me and winked again. â€œI know thereâ€™s no one else â€“ but if youâ€™d give me a few minutes, Iâ€™d appreciate it.â€
She settled back into her chair smiling and slipped off the headset. Barb was tiny, not more than about 5â€²2â€³ and certainly less than 100 pounds. Short cropped blonde hair and a soft, full face. â€œWhatâ€™s your name?â€
â€œWell, Lizâ€¦ are you freaked out yet?â€ 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 hadnâ€™t really considered how I felt about it. On consideration, I decided I wasnâ€™t freaked out, but I was absolutely certain I couldnâ€™t do this.
â€œNo. Not freaked. Really impressed. Iâ€™m not sure if I can do this.â€
â€œWhy? Does it disgust you?â€
â€œNo. Not at all. But you sound soâ€¦authoritative. And you really controlled him. Itâ€™s not what I was expecting.â€
â€œWhat were you expecting?â€
â€œA lot of shouting.â€ I grinned. â€œLots of Elsa, She-Wolf of the SS stuff.â€
Barb smirked and let out another low, growly laugh. â€œThatâ€™s what everyone thinks. But itâ€™s not about that at all. Itâ€™s about getting deep enough into their heads to control them with what they want.â€
â€œHow do you know what they want?â€
â€œThey tell me.â€
â€œSimple as that? You ask and they tell you?â€
â€œWell, making them admit what they want is a big part of the play. Itâ€™s liberating for them to admit it. And at the same time, I get the information I need to take them further.â€
â€œLike John? Is he pretty much the norm?â€
Barb laughed again. â€œHe calls every night.â€
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 werenâ€™t really interested in the person at the other end of the phone; they merely wanted to get off fast.
â€œEvery night? Shit! But this was the first time you made him do that?â€
â€œOh, no. He wants it to be the first time, every time.â€
â€œReady for the next call?â€ asked Barb, slipping her headset back on.
â€œI guess so.â€
â€œThis time, Iâ€™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.â€
The next call was a joke, a couple of frat boys playing around. From the moment they came on line, something happened to Barbâ€™s face and I could tell she was angry, but it didnâ€™t show up in the tone of her voice at all.
â€œHey, baby. Howâ€™s it goin?â€
â€œIâ€™m very well. How are you?â€
â€œOh, ya know â€“ just chillinâ€™ here with my buddy. We thought weâ€™d call you and get you to dominate us. You do that, right?â€
â€œAre you sure thatâ€™s what youâ€™re after?â€
â€œSure weâ€™re sure, babe. Soâ€¦ do your stuff. Do the domination thing.â€
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. Sheâ€™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.
â€œWhatâ€™s your name, sweetie?â€
â€œUhâ€¦ wellâ€¦ Frank. Itâ€™s Frank, yeah.â€
â€œAlright, Frank. Do you know anything about domination, Frank?â€
There was a deeper chuckle in the background. Frankâ€™s buddy was obviously on an extension in another room. â€œSure I do, babe. All those whips and stuff. You do have a whip, donâ€™t you babe?â€
â€œIs that what you think domination is about?â€
â€œSure it isâ€¦fuck yeah!â€
â€œThen I donâ€™t think I can help you, Frank.â€
â€œWhat do you mean you canâ€™t help me, bitch? Youâ€™re supposed to get me off, arenâ€™t you? So do your little whip thing and get me the fuck off, ho!â€
â€œIâ€™m afraid I donâ€™t get you off. You get yourself off and I help. But I donâ€™t think I can help you.â€
The conversation devolved into name-calling on Frankâ€™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 Frankâ€™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: â€œâ€¦you stupid whore. Do you really think you can dominate me? Fuck you, you bitch! If you were here now, Iâ€™d fuck your ass till it bled, you cuntâ€¦â€
Barb leaned back against her chair and waited for a break in the stream of crap. She cleared her throat rather loudly and said, â€œThis may have been the dumbest way you ever spent $60 dollars, loser.â€ Then she hung up on him, right at the ten minute mark.
â€œWhew!â€ I said, as the line when dead.
â€œDonâ€™t you get those on the vanilla lines?â€
â€œNot often. If it happens, I turn off my headset and wait till they hang up.â€
â€œWe get them a lot. I wait until theyâ€™ve run out of time and then let them know how stupid they are.â€
â€œDoesnâ€™t it bother you?â€
â€œNope. But I feel very sorry for the women in their lives.â€
The call tone beeped through the headset: new call.
â€œHello? Is this Mistress Barb?â€
â€œYes, it is. Hello Brad. How are you today?â€
â€œIâ€™m very well, Mistress. Thank you for asking. How are you?â€ 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. â€œIâ€™m in an excellent mood, Brad. I have a friend here with me â€“ another Mistress. Would you like me to introduce you?â€
Suddenly my heart started thumping. I wasnâ€™t sure why but it was like this is itâ€¦ Iâ€™m on!
â€œIâ€™d like that very much, Mistress. It would be a pleasure to be able to serve you both.â€
â€œYouâ€™re such a sweet pet, Brad. This is Mistress Elizabeth. Sheâ€™s a very beautiful woman. Five foot eight, long auburn hairâ€¦ and I would love you to be able to see what sheâ€™s wearing. Itâ€™s the sexiest latex corset you have ever seen, the creamy white skin of her breasts overflowing the cups. Sheâ€™s so sexy, Brad. Say hello to her.â€
The voice on the phone stuttered a little. â€œUm, ohâ€¦ hello, Mistress Elizabeth. You sound so wonderful.â€
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. â€œHello, Brad. Mistress Barb has told me so much about you. You sound like a very sweet boy.â€
My eyes were locked onto Barbâ€™s, waiting for a reaction. She grinned her approval.
â€œIâ€™m sure that with two beautiful Mistresses here with you, you must be getting very excited, Brad. But Iâ€™d be so disappointed if I found out you were stroking your cock without my permission. Are you doing that?â€
Clearly he was; the jolting, rhythmic breathing gave him away. â€œWellâ€¦ Iâ€™m sorry, Mistress. I canâ€™t help it.â€
â€œHeâ€™s such a greedy little brat, Mistress Elizabeth,â€ said Barb. There was no humour in her face anymore. She was all business. â€œSometimes I just donâ€™t know what to do with this boy. What do you suggest, Mistress Elizabeth?â€
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.
â€œItâ€™s such a problem, Mistress Barb. I have the same problem with my ownâ€¦ slaves. Is there some special punishment you give to yours?â€
â€œWell, I have a number of special punishments, but Iâ€™d like to hear your suggestion.â€
I thought Iâ€™d gotten out of that corner rather well, until I realized sheâ€™d put me in there on purpose.
â€œWellâ€¦ Iâ€™d take his left ball in my gloved hand and give it a good sharp squeeze.â€ I tried desperately not to make it sound like a question, but I wasnâ€™t sure Iâ€™d pulled it off.
The moan at the other end of the line ended in a breathy whimper.
â€œMmm, youâ€™re such a cruel and strict Mistress,â€ said Barb. â€œI think that is exactly what Iâ€™ll do. Brad? You heard Mistress Elizabethâ€¦ do it!â€
The sound on the line became muffled, as if Brad were rummaging around for something. I heard the minute heâ€™d obeyed Barbâ€™s command; he gave a tight little yelp.
â€œHarder, Brad. You know the pain will make you feel so much better. Squeeze it harder.â€
â€œYes-s, ow! Yes, Mistress Barb.â€
â€œMake it sting, Brad. Take your punishment for being the greedy little slave you are.â€
The cry that followed practically made me jump. It sounded as if heâ€™d really hurt himself.
â€œMmm, yes. Good boy, Brad. That feels better now, doesnâ€™t it?â€ purred Barb.
â€œM-mistress, yes, it does. So much better now.â€ There was an interesting, sleepy quality that had crept into his voice. â€œMay I have your permission to stroke my cock now, Mistress.â€
â€œYes, Bradâ€¦ 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 youâ€™re thinking about.â€
There was tangible relief in his voice as he started to stroke again, speaking as he did. â€œMistressâ€¦ Iâ€™m thinking about serving youâ€¦kneeling at your feetâ€¦begging you to let meâ€¦ let me touch your shoesâ€¦with my tongue.â€
â€œThat 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 theyâ€™re all wet.â€
â€œOh certainlyâ€¦ Misâ€¦ tress. Iâ€™d lick themâ€¦ until they were all clean.â€
â€œThen, Brad, Iâ€™d want you to take the head of your cock and rub it all over my wet feet.â€
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 Iâ€™d become so pulled into the call. Part was fascinated.
â€œMmm. 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.â€
His need was palpable. The speed with which it came over him was astonishing. â€œPleaseâ€¦. please Mistress! I have to comeâ€¦.on your feet. Please let me.â€
â€œIâ€™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.â€
The line went so quiet, I thought heâ€™d hung up. Somewhere in the middle of the call Iâ€™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 Iâ€™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.
â€œMistressâ€¦ that was wonderful.â€
â€œIt was very nice for me too, Brad. Have a nice evening.â€
â€œYou too, Mistress Barbâ€¦and you too Mistress Elizabeth. Thank you for listening.â€
â€œIt was my pleasure, Brad,â€ I replied. It had been.
â€œYou did fine,â€ 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. â€œNo, really Liz! You are going to be good at this. I can tell.â€
Suddenly her gaze was making me squirm. â€œHow can you tell?â€
â€œBecause it turned you on.â€
I started to protest, but she cut me off.
â€œDonâ€™t even bother trying to deny it, Liz. I can smell you.â€ The tone of her voice reminded me of the way she spoke on the calls. I blanched and crossed my legs tight.
â€œIâ€¦I donâ€™t really know what to say. Iâ€™ve never had a call that turned me on before.â€
Barb leaned over and put her hand on my knee. Her pale fingers gave it a squeeze. â€œWell, youâ€™ve been working the wrong line then, havenâ€™t you?â€
â€œAm I what?â€
â€œAre you turned on by the calls sometimes?â€
â€œWhat do you think?â€
Honestly, I didnâ€™t know. If she was turned on, she hid it pretty well: no flush, no sweat, no heavy breathing. Maybe she had great control.
â€œI donâ€™t know.â€
â€œOnce you get to know me a little better, you will.â€