The Pleasure's All Mine: Memoir of a Professional Submissive by Joan Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

anything I could do to speed up the process a little?”
        “Well, you could certainly get more sessions if you were here more often, but it’s still a matter of the clients getting to know you, people finding out that you’re available. It takes a little time to get established, that’s all.” The phone rang and she reached for the receiver.
        “Dominion, how may I help you?” After listening for a moment, Hillary responded by naming everyone on shift at the time, noting who was submissive, who was dominant, and who switched, doing both. After another minute, she thanked the caller and hung up.
        “That’s a guy who’s coming in for a sub right there. See, you’re already on your way!”
        As on the previous Saturday, I was the only submissive on shift when I got there, and I liked it that way. I went to the Dean Martin to change into one of my new dresses.
        I’d gone to a local shop on Melrose called Retail Slut after work one night. I’d been sure that I felt the judgmental eyes of the two young salesgirls, sizing me up as clearly more retail than believable slut. No thanks to their skeptical expressions, I’d still decided on a couple of dresses that could have passed for nudity if I’d had leopard-print skin, and then picked up my first adult lipstick from the MAC store in the Beverly Center. The last lipstick I’d owned had been some frosty pink business that I was sure would get me laid my senior year in high school, and that I had promptly tossed in the garbage when graduation day had come and gone, my virginity still intact.
        After I was finished changing, I went back up front to stash my purse and clothes in the employee closet. Hillary was gone and a lanky, short-haired brunette was in her place behind the front desk. Taylor was in one of the lobby chairs, lacing up another pair of beautiful black thigh-high boots.
        “Hey, Marnie.” Taylor looked up and smiled at me. “This is Vanessa, another domme who works here,” she nodded toward the woman at the desk.
        “Nice to meet you,” we said at the same time, and then laughed politely.
        I gave Vanessa and Taylor an awkward wave as I moved into the television room. I still didn’t know what to make of the other women on staff here. What did the subs and dommes generally think of each other, and did they all feel as uncomfortable as I did about competing for clients’ business?
        Plopping down in one of the comfy chairs in front of the television, I picked up a magazine instead of the remote control. Whips and Chains, it announced in bold red letters across the top. A pretty young blonde woman graced the cover in full fetish gear — black leather corset, lacy blue-and-black bra and panties, fishnet stockings and impossibly high spiked heels. Her hands were on her hips as she stared, unsmiling, directly into the camera. A Slave’s Punishment!, Hardcore S/M Pictorials!, Hundreds of Domina Listings! barked the headlines on the cover. I flipped to the back and was surprised to see a half-page, full-color ad for the Dominion. Seeing it was an added thrill for me; it made me wonder how many other publications, small or large, were running ads for our dungeon rooms and showing staffers’ pictures.
        Then another advertisement caught my eye, this one a little smaller and in black and white, for what looked like a commercial dungeon similar to ours. Suddenly I realized we might not have a corner on the market, and I felt a stab of insecurity about the prospects of there being enough clients to go around. Maybe my first shift had been a fluke. Maybe there would never be enough money to support me full time after all, no matter how long I gave it.
        “How many places like this are there?” I walked back into the lobby and held the open magazine out in front of me.
        “What kind of places?” Vanessa looked up from a book with lined pages and some kind of