Woman's Virtue Is Man's Greatest Invention


Up close, Queenie was even more perfect. It was astonishing really. How could she not already be famous? Clearly she had the over sized yet shaky ego of any performer. She assumed that everyone was watching her and she was right. A beauty to cause madness, no soul to speak of and a size two.Every straight man's secret desire, every gay man's muse and the natural enemy of all women.

I knew instinctively she just sucked when I first met her. Thank the fates that I was born without a cock for surely I would have been ruthlessly manipulated by her. But still... to have a penis and to sacrifice it to this self absorbed, freak of superior symmetry was one of the saddest things that I had seen. I felt her powers were greatly over stated and she probably did much to perpetuate her own legend. Not that I blamed her. I could learn allot from her.

"Why?" I sipped my drink ignoring the constant stares and the busy body hum of the other guests murmured conversations.

"Why not?." Queenie asked archly. She smirked like a cartoon villainous. Aw shucks..so trite. I was hoping for more. I just waited. Finally she answered.

"Well he wanted it". She said almost defensively. "I make him happy and he is going to die anyway. He has terrible diabetes." Queenie was looking at her subbie with a expression that aped affection. He watched her, obviously yearning for her in a way that made him more nude than his physical nakedness. Blood was still smeared on his chest. To icky for words. Yet I was compelled to look despite myself.

"Believe me, the man could not get it up. It was useless anyway-hadn't worked right for years. He hardly misses it at all. It was not the sacrifice that people think it was. " Queenie was as off hand about her slave's castration as she would have been about choosing her own lobster from a tank for dinner.

"Oh...well if you are sure he wasn't going to miss it...but it wasn't really done with a dull knife, was it?"

Queenie scoffed.

"Of course not. We flew to a private clinic in Mexico. Very state of the art. I know you think it is sick and maybe it would have been if he was a sexual being in the true sense. But he internalized his condition in a healthy way and I admire that. He could have hated women out of frustration. His true sexual nature is that of a submissive although in business he is a shark. Do you know who he is? I can't imagine that you do". I shrugged. I didn't.

"Just as well. How did you get here?"

I gestured toward to Gordon who was glancing at us frequently, a bemused expression on his face. Both Gordon and Queenie's slave were on point like retrievers and ready to dash over the second one of us beckoned them. We ignored them.

"Hmmm. Are you new? I asked who you were but no one has heard of you." She looked at me this time with indulgent contempt.

"Yes I am and no they have not heard of me. Yet." I smiled in a roguish way. She did not smile back.

"Do you love it?" she asked pointedly.

"Do you"? I countered.

"Yes I do. I enjoy upsetting the power dynamic. Men are weak and I like proving it." I nodded thoughtfully at this.

"So...do you hate men?"

"Of course. I like women even less.You?" A misanthrope, a girl after my own heart.

"Interesting question. I don't see things in such a black and white way. I agree that men are often weak, however, women are as well. I'm not trying to be wishy washy -it is just a complex question. I think being human is synonymous with being weak in general. More often than not they disappoint me, but then again they were not put here to serve my needs."

"That is where you are wrong. They are here to serve you and to bend to your will. If you know how. Some are born servants and others are masters" Queenie finished her champagne off with a flourish.

"Very Ayn Rand of you. Ever hear of this quote? " I don't wish to lead or to follow. I wish only to go my own way."

Queenie stood up and I could tell that I had been dismissed.

"You may be on your way to becoming an evolved ( she pronounced evolved with sarcasm) human being but with a motto like that, I can't see you becoming a great Domina. Good-bye." She sauntered away like a lean flanked alley cat. Bitch.

She did have a point. I had much to absorb and ruminate. I also had the uneasy suspicion that in some ways Queenie and I were very similar. I fluttered my fingers at Gordon who made his way across the room toward me. In the back ground I could hear the mingled cries of pain and ecstasy entwined and rising in the air. Sounded like things were heating up in the other rooms.

Before Gordon had reached my side, another person approached me. It was the naked baby waiter. This time he was holding a silver tray and on it was a thick cream colored envelope. He knelt before me and presented the sealed letter. On the front and hand printed in calligraphy was my Domina name, Ava The Laughing Mistress. I reached for it and as I did I asked

"Who gave this to you?" He shrugged shyly.

"Was it a man or a woman?" I asked impatiently.

"I'm not sure Mistress" He whispered with eyes down cast.

I sighed. Oh the weirdness of it all.

I tore the envelope open and began to read.