Entry 19.1 — Beatrix

“I have an idea,” Gabs says with a glint in her eye as Sarah heads to the loo.  “What if, during Sarah’s next exam, we give her a lap dance together?”

“That–” I start to say.  “Gabs, the D/s monitor I put in your head is saying you’re feeling subby, but that is a bloody genius idea.”

“I know,” she says casually.  She presses the curls of her hair up with one hand in a proud, glamorous pose.

“Did you come up with this idea because it’s something you want done to you, too?”

Gabs flushes.  “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Then, hypothetically, if you did want it done to you, would you want to not know it was coming?”

“Hypothetically?  That would have a certain appeal.”  I’m absolutely loving her Southern American accent.

“And in this hypothetical, would you consent to having this part of the discussion wiped from your memory?”

“Ohh, it’s hard to know without living it.  Why don’t you give it a shot and see what happens?”

“Hypothetical Gabi tells me when her next exam is and can’t remember ever discussing wanting this fantasy being played out on her.”

“Friday at one,” Gabi intones, eyes blank.  Then, unaware of her last three words, she cordially replies, “I hypothetically tha–”  She cuts off her thanks as her memory is wiped of the last thirty seconds.

“I know,” she says naturally.  She proudly weighs her hair again.  At the unwitting feedback she provides regarding the effectiveness of my command, a tingle runs down my spine to settle in between my legs.  I hadn’t planned to toy with my pets this afternoon, but, well, emergencies happen.  Some things just can’t be helped.  A domme has needs, after all.

“This will be fun,” I say as we hear the bathroom door shut and Sarah’s footsteps turn down the hall.  Fun thrice over.