Queens In Manhattan


As it so often happens, I didn't know what to think. So I remained impassive as I scanned the room.

It was a beautiful room, the sort where only the well to do could afford to heat completely but so seldom do. This is a particular peeve of mine. I've got to express just how awfully grubby the filthy rich can be about unimportant things. Like comfort. Perhaps this is only the New England or North Eastern tribe but they really take great pride in denying themselves and so often those around them. Although more often than not, the truly eccentric ones seemed to be the most generous in erratic and unexpected ways. Like sending me a two thousand dollar gift certificate to Dean And Deluca.

The rooms stretched on into a vast apartment-true New York Salon style. The windows were long and looked out onto the East River. We were so high up the host did not even bother with drapery. This neighborhood mansion had many rooms and peppered with fire places. The guest were huddled nonchalantly around each of the five or six of them for warmth as well as for the flattering glow.

Gordon had taken me to a very private, hush hush gathering of people- most being listed in the social register. Then there were the others like myself and the other Mistresses and slaves who had been invited. We were the entertainment. Gordon had received the invitation by phone and we had been asked to attend an elaborate fetish party on the upper east side. We arrived suitably costumed.

It doesn't matter what Gordon was wearing as men have the misfortune of sporting a rather drab and uninteresting wardrobe. I however, was wearing a long, black, Vera Wang gown that had been marked down from a thousand to a mere three hundred. Over it, I wore my favorite authentic Japanese corset (at this point in my story, my only corset)and in hand my red nylon snake of a whip. I wore shiny black open toed boots and I towered over the general population in the room. The only people that I could look in the eye were the other Dominas.

We were a proud and haughty group. The Dominas were tall and striking and the submissives were mostly short, fat, oldish and obscenely wealthy. The few beautiful men at the party were naked slaves who were there for the taking by either sex. A significant number of the male guest were wearing black leather hoods and masks. Some of the Dominas,like myself, wore a more subtle disguise. I had on a well made wig of real human hair. It had long chestnut finger waves and was parted deeply to the side like a 1940's glamor girl. My eyes were smudgy and feline and instead of my own green ones, I was wearing violet colored contacts. Gordon nudged me sharply. I bent discreetly and from a great distance so I could hear him.

"Look over there." He jerked his head to the left and began to edge over to a room where yet another cluster of people were warming themselves in front of the biggest fire place of all. They were focused and courting one woman who was one of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And I was in a city filled with some of the most astonishing people in the world.

"Holy moley. Who IS that?" I asked.

"Queenie. Her slave and benefactor is from one of the wealthiest families in New York. She is a expensive self indulgence. I heard she wrangled an apartment out of him that over looks The Park. She also managed to wrangle something else from him. Look closely. Notice anything?"

Frankly, I was to busy noticing Queenie. She looked Eurasian and was naturally tall. In fact she was the only Domina in the room not wearing heels. She was barefoot and her toe nails were painted scarlet. On each of her fingers, she wore long and delicate finger sheaths. They were ornate pieces of jewelry, very old, with hinges and looked quite authentic, sharp and sinister. She was wearing a sheer swath of black silk that was twined carelessly around her taunt body, mysteriously staying in place as she moved. You could see she wore nothing underneath but seemed more dressed than the rest of us. Her dead black, slippery hair was in a loose tumble atop her head and pinned here and there with large pearls. Her eyes were huge and almond shaped, exaggerated like an anime character. But instead of housing an expression of blank and terrified innocence her black eyes sparkled with malice and boredom. She was alien like in her absolute perfection. Queenie could have been eighteen or thirty. She reeked of refined insanity

"Well I've noticed the obvious if that is what you are asking. Queenie is smokin' hot. But can she dance?"

Gordon snickered.

"I'm sure that she can and very well I expect. She speaks five languages fluently and is rumored to have graduated from Yale at sixteen. When she still accepts sessions she gets no less than ten grand an hour."

I turned and looked at him in shock. He laughed at my expression of disbelief. Gordon shrugged.

"Who knows...some of it could be exaggerated. Not by much."

Queenie was holding her sacrifice lightly by the back of the neck. She would occasionally and savagely twist his nipples with the tips of her elegant and silver claws. He stared up at her raptly as a thin thread of blood ran from his nipples. I watched as she had him write Queenie in his blood across his own paunch. I was both fascinated and faintly amused.

"However I want you to really look at her slave. Let's test your powers of observation". I gave him an eye roll but did as he asked.

I looked more closely at Queenie's willing captive. OK...another fat, old man with a leather hood. I inched my way toward the group until I had a better vantage point. My eyes dropped with disinterest to his patch of old man pubic hair. I expected to see the usual- an unremarkable tube of meat. Instead...I saw nothing. Nothing at all. I squinted, I blinked, I damned near got down on my hands and knees to get a closer look.

"He gave his penis to her as a tribute. The ultimate tribute. She owns him completely now and I bet eventually she will own most of New York."

"WHAT"? I nearly shouted. Gordon gave me a sharp look in warning. I would not be silenced

"That is disgusting. I have never heard of anything so sick in all my life."

Gordon frowned at me.

"You don't get it Ava. For some that could be considered the ultimate prize for a powerful Domina. It has made her a legend within a very small and influencial group of people".

"The symbolism does not escape me. I would have to be obtuse if I did not pick up on it. I simply find it horrifying. Fun and games are one thing, Gordon. But this... at the risk of sounding provincial-it's evil". I had made an effort to subdue my own reactions and had lowered my voice.

"For her slave it was an act of love. If you are going to be a Domina you really need to suspend your judgments".

"Bullshit. I AM judging this. I think it is wrong and I don't care if she got an apartment on Mount Olympus for enabling it. That man may be richer than God but he is obviously mentally ill and she is taking advantage of it." Gordon looked stricken, as though he was desperately trying to send me a telepathic message.

Suddenly I felt aware that I was being closely observed. I turned slowly as though I was in a horror movie and there was Queenie standing right behind me. Her expression was one of cold curiosity. She stared at me silently waiting for me to mumble out an apology. She who speaks first loses so I looked right back at her, my lips sewn tight like a voodoo doll.

We stared at one another in a silent battle of wills. In fact the entire room had fallen silent. Only the murmuring strains of a classic violin could be heard. It only heightened the surrealistic feeling of the moment. I'm not easily intimidated and I actually enjoy the absurd. She narrowed her eyes at me and I narrowed mine right back. Queenie crossed her arms and threw back her head staring icily at me. I mirrored her every move.

Bring it on bitch.