Mistress Shanks By Montrose Mary Jo Shanks has fun paying for college Mary Jo slammed the door. Constance, sitting on the couch with a newspaper, jumped. "Damn tuition is going up again," Mary Jo snarled as she crashed her books to the coffee table. Constance pulled her feet off the table. While Mary Jo was an inch taller that Constance (5 feet 10 inches and 5 feet 9 inches respectively). Constance had a weight advantage (her pleasingly rounded 185, compared to Mary Jo's athletic 170). Most important, Constance lacked Mary Jo's aggressive nature. While Constance spent her teen years reading and cooking, Mary Jo excelled at wrestling, swimming and basketball. Mary Jo loved to defeat, conquer and dominate. Constance, while also a dominating woman, nurtured those around her... in her own way. "If I ever meet one of those university bean counters, I'm gonna mash his eyeballs!" Mary Jo yelled from the kitchen. She came out chugging milk from the quart container. Constance didn't complain. For one thing, she feared to do such a thing. For another, she was pretty sure Mary Jo would finish it. "You just need to make more money," Constance said softly, diffusing the anger in the air. "Like how?" Mary Jo flopped into an overstuffed chair. Constance was a calming influence on her, like music to the savage breast. Constance flipped the paper to the Help Wanted section. She already worked as a waitress in an Italian restaurant and as a Goddess at the Shake Down, a local strip club. She had a loyal following that worshipped her big, round ass - literally. They had alters set up and everything. As their spiritual leader, she nurtured them. She let them suckle on her toes and told them they were nearly worthy to do so, in soothing tones, as she collected homage. Constance had no trouble meeting the high cost of her University education. But she couldn't talk Mary Jo into becoming a stripper or goddess (of course, Mary Jo liked to hear Constance go on about how she would be the hottest woman there). The only job Mary Jo had was stocking shelves at the auto parts store after closing. She liked lifting heavy objects, but it didn't pay much. "Listen to this," Constance said, sitting up. "Submissive gentleman seeks dominating woman. Discreet. There's a number to call." "I'm not going to stomp some kink-oids pecker for nickels!" Mary Jo snarled, before chugging more milk. "You don't need to take the job. Just call him and meet. If you feel good about it, something like this could pay your tuition and then some!" "Are you kidding me? How much could I make?" "More than I'm making as a Goddess. The Doms at work really pull it in. My boys give me gifts and offerings, but the Doms demand sacrifices." "No shit!" Mary Jo sat up. "Give me that paper." A woman answered the phone after half a ring. "Smithington's." "What the fuck!" said Mary Jo. "Did someone from this number place an ad in the paper?" "Which ad?" asked the woman on the other end. "Gardener, cook, maid or personal trainer?" "Uh... I guess it might be the personal trainer ad," Mary Jo replied. "Very good. Master Smithington is still entertaining applicants for that position. Can you come for an interview tonight? Say, seven-ish?" "No sweat." Mary Jo wrote down the address. She gave the woman some information about herself and hung up. "It sounds like money, Constance. He's got some smooth- talking bimbo answering his phone like a secretary and everything." "What's his name?" Constance asked. Mary Jo stood on her toes and extended a pinky in mock etiquette. "Master Smithington." "Smithington? May I see that address?" Mary Jo handed it over. "Oh my god, Mary Jo! This guy is loaded! This is the guy who's rich father just died!" Constance folded the paper back to the front. It reported on the lavish burial of one Jefferson Adams Smithington, survived by his son, Andrew Adams Smithington. "Is that the guy?" Mary Jo asked pointing to a picture of a handsome man in his late thirties. "So it seems." "Hmmm..." Mary Jo took a closer look. "I wouldn't mind sitting on his face for big bucks." It was tough to find a bus that got close to the address, so Mary Jo walked the last three miles. At 7:15 Mary Jo, wearing fresh panties and a figure hugging sleeveless frock, stood at the palatial entrance to the Smithington mansion. The frock showed off her sculpted arms and back, as well as her powerful legs. She flexed these to bring back her confidence in the face of all this wealth. Once pumped up, she pulled the rope next to the door, expecting to hear a big bell like in the Adams Family TV show. Instead, there was no noise. Yet, almost instantly, the door opened. "Miss Mary Jo Shanks?" asked the woman who had opened the door. Mary Jo recognized her voice from the phone. She sized her up. Pettit, cute and perky - barely five feet tall. Wearing a saucy version of a butler's outfit, fitted for a girl - low cut front, bare neck bowtie, mini skirt instead of slacks, fuck me pumps on her feet. "That's me, honey." "Please follow me. Master Smithington will meet you in the exercise room for an interview." They walked through marble halls, under grand stairways, down a back corridor and took a left into a large, nearly empty room. There were some wrestling mats and a set of free weights. High ceilings. No windows. Soft lighting and music. "May I offer you a drink, Miss Shanks?" "Wha da ya got?" "Champaign, port, an exceptional mixed scotch..." "The last one, three fingers, no ice." "Very good." The little woman stepped out. Shortly after, a handsome man entered the room carrying two identical drinks. He handed one to Mary Jo. It was the smoothest scotch Mary Jo had ever experienced. "Damn!" she groaned after one sip. The man smiled. "Well put. This is my father's secret blend. This quality is difficult to equal." Mary Jo put on her sexy grin. "The same could be said of me." The scent the man wore was almost as intoxicating as the scotch. No doubt, glands from an endangered animal, Mary Jo thought. She felt herself getting aroused - money is a turn on. Master Smithington chuckled. Even his chuckle sounded like money to Mary Jo - like coins dropping into a bag. He took a sip. "Let us get to the point, Miss Shanks. As you may have guessed, I'm looking for something more than just a personal trainer." "More like a gym room dominatrix," Mary Jo said. "A chick that can kick your ass." Master Smithington blushed. "Well put again. And, I hope you do not mind my saying, you are... exquisite, and quite fit. I took the liberty of doing a background check on you. You have a very nice win-loss record in high-school wrestling." "Twelve wins for every loss," Mary Jo offered. "And I'm stronger now than I was then." She blinked. "You got my high school..." "Yes... but you see..." Master Smithington stepped closer. His scent filled Mary Jo's nose and made her quim tingle. He stood six feet tall, two inches taller than Mary Jo. "I'm reasonably fit myself, and182 pounds. I'm afraid you are just not enough woman for the job. Not up to the challenge, you see. Not big enough to... kick my ass, as you put it." He finished his drink. "It is a pity, because I find you terribly appealing, but there it is. I hope you do not mind my candor. Please feel free to use the free weights for the next hour. I'll call Emily to bring you a bottle of this scotch, since you appreciate it so. Good evening, Miss Shanks." He turned to leave. Mary Jo could barely control her temper, but for once she did. Instead of exploding, she hatched a plan. "Master Smithington?" "Yes?" "What does it pay, this job?" Best to know if it was worth her while. "Two thousand a month retainer plus five hundred per hour during matches. Also, as an incentive, every time I am forced to submit there is a one hundred dollar bonus. The person that fills this position will have 24/7 access to this space. I will remodel it to their specifications - no cost is too great." He turned to leave. "Master Smithington?" "Yes?" "I can't help but notice how much wider and firmer my shoulders are than yours. To be honest, I'm not impressed with your physical fitness in the least. You look more like a weekend golfer than a scrapper. I am so completely certain that I can kick your ass, that I'm willing to make a little wager." "A wager?" Master Smithington turned and smiled. "You've hit on a weakness of mine, Miss. That and, I feel I should put you in your place for your impertinence. What is your offer." "Let's you and me spend some time on your mats. If I completely dominate you, I get the job." "And if I dominate you?" he asked, his eyes lighting up. Mary Jo winked, "If you can make me submit, even once sugar, I'll be your sex slave for as long as you'll have me, no charge." Master Smithington trembled with anticipation. Mary Jo strutted up to him. "Let's do it," she whispered. "I'm... I'm hardly dressed for..." Mary Jo pulled her frock off over her head and stood in panties and bra. She kicked off her shoes. She enjoyed how his eyes grew big, roaming up and down her rippling frame. Master Smithington gulped and then smiled. "Very well." He stripped down to his boxers, trying in vain to ignore his substantial erection. He joined Mary Jo on the mat. Mary Jo didn't bother ignoring the meat stick. "Yoinks!" she said. "That thing almost makes me want to throw the match!" They circled. Master Smithington dived for Mary Jo's leg. She quickly slipped a figure four lock on his head with his face up her ass and clamped down. He was clumsy and had no idea of leverage and hand control, compared to Mary Jo. "This is going to be even easier than I thought," Mary Jo taunted the millionaire. "Come on, Smitty! Let's see some fight!" It took only two minutes to squeeze Master Smithington into submitting. He tapped the mat. "Are you submitting already, Smitty?" Mary Jo asked without letting up on her hold. "YES!" he yelled up her butt. "Please let go!" "So, you admit that I won? I have dominated you?" "YES!" "And I get the job?" "Please!... I'm.... growing... faint..." Mary Jo let go and pushed Master Smithington over onto his back. He was purple in the face and all but out cold. She sat on his chest with his arms under her knees - a schoolgirl pin. She counted to ten in German with her hands on her hips - he didn't even struggle. She laughed and raised her hands in victory. She slapped his face hard, over and over, left and right. "Hey Smitty! Andrew Adams! Double A! Can you hear me?" He came to. "I give! I submit!" he panted. "Please be kind, Miss." "That's Mistress Shanks to you, Smitty boy." "Yes Mistress Shanks," he replied. Mary Jo slid up so her panty-covered clam was over his mouth and nose. She settled in, cutting off his air. "Let's talk details. Make that salary retro to cover the entire month, okay Smitty?" Master Smithington nodded his agreement. He was getting red in the face again. No air made it around her meaty pie. "And how 'bout a signing bonus of say... ten grand." Master Smithington nodded. "Make that fift... twenty grand." Master Smithington nodded frantically. "And a case of that good hooch." Master Smithington nodded slowly. He was going purple again. A vein on his forehead was getting alarmingly huge. "Cool! It's a deal!" Mary Jo hopped to her feet. She pulled Master Smithington to his feet then let him go. He toppled over without breaking his fall. Mary Jo laughed. "Take your time, Smitty. Just write me a check before I leave. She slithered back into her dress, wiggling it past her hooters and hips. She hadn't even broken a sweat. The commute had taken more effort than beating the man. Master Smithington crawled over to a wall and pressed an intercom button. "Yes, Master Smithington?" Emily's professional voice answered. "Emily," panted Master Smithington, "Write Mistress Shanks a check for... let's see... 22 thousand, six hundred..." "Make it an even 25 grand," Mary Jo said as she slid into her shoes. "Of course... 25 thousand. Bring a limo around for her and fill the trunk with father's secret blend scotch. Ask Thomas to drive her home." "Very good, Master Smithington," said Emily. Master Smithington collapsed to the floor. ^ ^ ^ "25 grand for five minutes of work?" Constance gasped. "Less than that. And I bet I could sell cases of this hooch for another grand each," Mary Jo replied, fanning herself with the check, her feet up on a case. "Better let me handle that," Constance replied as she savored a glass. "I think you underestimate the value. One of my clients is in the business." "Thanks," said Mary Jo. "Tell him he can keep ten percent, but leave us with two cases." "No need," Constance replied. "He'll do it because I tell him to. I AM his Goddess, after all." She giggled. The phone rang. Constance picked it up. "Is this Mistress Shanks's residence?" asked a woman. "Uh... It is." Constance took a sip. "Master Smithington requests the pleasure of her company any time that suits her. He asked me to say that this request is made with great humility." Constance drank that in. "He's begging to have her come back and sit on his face, isn't he." "Yes, Miss. That would be accurate." Mary clutched the receiver to her ample bosom. "Some lady is humbly requesting your presence to stomp millionaire pecker." The girls giggled. "I'm free tomorrow night," Mary Jo said. "I could use more cash." Constance spoke into the phone. "Mistress Shanks will expect a limo from you at 7:00 sharp, tomorrow night. Tell Smitty to be ready to kiss ass." "Yes, Miss," said the woman. "I will tell him, Miss. Thank you, Miss." Constance hung up and kicked her well worshipped heels in the air, laughing. The scotch had gone to her head. ^ ^ ^ When Emily answered the door, Mary Jo handed her a list of demands - her requirements for remodeling the exercise room. They included a sauna, hot tub, private shower and kinky boudoir, wet bar, and wrestling pit with video capture capability, as well as all the exercise and training equipment she could think of. "That should fill up all that space," she said. "Yes, Mistress," Emily replied. "All shall be as you ask." She led Mary Jo back to the room once more. She gave Mary Jo a key and indicated the back door to the room. "Feel free to come and go as you please," she said. "This is your space, now. May I bring you a drink, Mistress Shanks?" "More scotch, sweety," Mary Jo replied. "And leave the bottle." "Very good, Mistress." Emily and Master Smithington came back at the same time. Master Smithington clasped his hands together. "I am so sorry to have kept you waiting Mistress Shanks," he said. "Ass, Smitty," said Mary Jo, pointing at her rump. "Apologize with your lips on my ass." Emily's left eyebrow raised as her master dropped to his knees and crawled behind Mary Jo. Mary Jo lifted the back of her skirt and let Master Smithington stick his face up there. His muffled voice came through, apologizing once more. Mary Jo winked at Emily. Emily blushed and sputtered. "Will... uh... Will there be anything else... Mistress?" she asked. "Yeah. Stay and watch, honey." "Master?" Emily turned to Master Smithington, who was bringing his face out from under Mary Jo's skirt. "Until I can beat her, she is in charge, Emily. Do as she says," he told her. Mary Jo and Master Smithington circled each other on the mat as before. This time, Master Smithington wore silk boxing shorts. Mary Jo had on a sexy new teddy from Victoria's Secret. Master Smithington charged into Mary Jo - she met him like a brick wall. Mary Jo landed Master Smithington on his back. She strolled around, letting him stand. After a moment he charged again. Mary Jo tripped him up and made him fall on his face. Again, Mary Jo gave him room to recover. She turned her back. Master Smithington took the opportunity and jumped at her. He got her into a full nelson. Mary Jo muscled out of it and spun Master Smithington into a standing reverse headlock. The man was bent over backwards and grunting as he choked. "I'm just toying with him, Emily honey," said Mary Jo. "I could have kicked his ass twelve ways to Sunday by now, but what the hell. The guy's paying good money. Right?" "As you say, Mistress Shanks." "You think I should turn up the heat, honey? Really make him suffer?" Emily blushed again. "That's a fine monkey wrench hanging off the front of him, wouldn't you say, Em?" The girls admired the lump in the front of Master Smithington's silk boxers. "He is well endowed, yes, Mistress Shanks," Emily replied. "Sounds to me like you know more about that boner than you're saying..." Emily half turned and blushed, but forced herself to face forward once more. "Face it, toots. You wanna see this stiffy get stuffed, right? I mean, he makes you dress up like a fucking sex toy to work all day! What up with that?" Mary Jo ignored Master Smithington as he struggled in her grip. She was enjoying her talk with Emily. "So what do you say, Em? you want me to put a sleeper on him, or crush him in my legs, or just sit on his face for a while?" Emily's eyes lit up. "The sleeper would make him pass out, Mistress?" "I could make him pass out with any of them. Just pick one." "Oh... then, would you please apply the crushing maneuver, Mistress? With your legs? That sounds the most painful." Mary Jo looked the little woman up and down. "I knew there was some fight in that little mouse. Sure, I'll crush the fuck out of him for ya." Mary Jo dropped Master Smithington hard to the mat and then fell on him with an elbow in his gut. When he doubled up she locked his body in her legs and grabbed his neck in her arms. She arched her back and squeezed. "I give! I give!" he gasped pathetically. "Like I care. I'll quit when I feel like it, Smitty, so you can shut the fuck up and save your breath," Mary Jo grunted as she crushed him. She looked at Emily. There was no mistaking the light of pleasure in the small woman's eyes. Once Master Smithington passed out, Mary Jo dropped him onto his back and sat on his chest adjusting her hair. "Would Mistress let me fix her hair?" asked Emily. "Sure, sweety," Mary Jo said. "And freshen up my drink while you're at it." Mary Jo sat on Master Smithington as she sipped rare scotch and Emily French braided her blonde locks. "So, what is the story between you two? Has he been humping you, or what?" Mary Jo asked between sips. "I service his needs, yes," Emily whispered. "But please don't blame him. Let me tell you the history." Mary Jo settled on Master Smithington's face for a long story, giving him a small air passage up her ass crack. "Spill the bean, honey," she said as Emily filled her glass again. "I... I used to beat up Master Smithington just as you do now." "Really?" Mary Jo laughed. "We were children," Emily explained. "I am two years older than he. You see, my family has worked for his for many generations. From birth it was understood that I would one day be his servant. As a child, this irked me. Around the age of seven for me, five for him, I caught him behind the horse stables and beat him up. I punched and kicked him until he could no longer walk. When the old Master, his father, asked what happened Master Smithington said he fell out of the hayloft. I was grateful that he didn't tell on me, but I kept beating him up - although now I was careful to avoid leaving marks. Instead I would pin him face down in a pile of horse dung, or knee his stomach until he heaved. I was a brutal little girl." "Go on!" Mary Jo could hardly believe it of the sweet little thing standing before her. "It is all true. I kept tormenting him until he turned fourteen. And he never told on me. But at around that time, Master Smithington hit a growth spurt. I was sixteen and as tall as I am now - five feet even. He suddenly shot up to five feet six. He caught me out by the barn and slapped me around for hours. Then he pinned me in the hayloft and took my virginity." Emily stopped and sighed. "It was amazing. From the very first time, he gave me orgasms, even though he cared nothing for my pleasure. Perhaps it was my guilt. Maybe I wanted him to beat and violate me for all the things I had done to him. At any rate, I never turned him in, just as he never told on me. He has come to me, taking me roughly at least twice a week ever since. There is no position I will not assume for him - no humiliation is too great. He is my Master in every way." Emily stopped and hung her head. "Wow," whispered Mary Jo. "You all are kinda fucked up, aren't you?" "Pardon?" "I mean... old Smitty here probably misses getting beat up by you. That's why he hired me. He keeps coming to you hoping you will be able to dominate him. You all got reversed rolls just because he's bigger than you. He obviously craves getting is butt stomped. And I can tell you like seeing him dominated." Emily looked down at the still unconscious form of her employer and lover. "I know you are right. But how can I dominate him? I'm so small!" "No sweat! I could train you to kick his ass," Mary Jo offered. "He's not athletic. If I show you some moves, why in a few months you'll be able to rule him like Mussolini." Emily dropped to her knees. "If you do this for my, Mistress Shanks, I will be forever in your debt." Emily kissed Mary Jo's foot. And then her calf. And then her thigh. She slid her lips toward the bigger woman's groin. Mary Jo guided Emily's face toward her crotch pie. As she sat on Master Smithington's face, Emily ate her to climax. "God I love this job," Mary Jo moaned as she dripped onto the rich man. That night, Mary Jo went home and took out her remaining lust on Constance. ^ ^ ^ The room was remodeled. Mary Jo spent most of her time there, when not in class. Master Smithington gave her full use of Thomas and the limo. She sent him out for pizza and provocative panties at all hours using Smithington's credit. Master Smithington continued to stop by twice a week for a beating. Mary Jo continued to insist that Emily stay to watch. She used these sessions discretely, to show Emily certain moves in action. Emily did not want Master Smithington to know she was in training until she was ready. Emily came to Mary Jo every day for lessons - sometimes twice a day. At first it seemed hopeless, but then Emily began to pick up on balance and leverage. She became a student of hand control. She worked out and became buff. After two months she could actually take Mary Jo down now and then, though she couldn't keep her there. After three months or training, Emily made Mary Jo submit under a punishing neck scissors. They judged she was ready for the man. ^ ^ ^ Master Smithington came to the mat ready to fight. "I'm gaining on you, Mistress Shanks," he boasted. "It took you twenty minutes to make me pass out last time." Mary Jo raised an eyebrow, hands on hips. "I was toying with you, moron. Kiss my foot for that remark, or I'll snap off your pissing joint." Master Smithington dropped and kissed Mary Jo's foot. "While you're down there. Kiss Emily's foot too. After all, she's your superior as well," said Mary Jo. "Emily?" Master Smithington said from his knees. "Surely you jest! Just last night I came on her stupid face." "She was holding back," said Mary Jo. "Tonight, she's going to show you what she's got." "It would be a waste of my time," Master Smithington sniffed. "I know what she has. In fact, I've had everything she has many times." "I'll tell you what," said Mary Jo. "You like a wager. If you can take her right now, I promise that both of us ladies will be your willing sex slaves forever. And if she can dominate you, like she used to, you owe me one hundred grand. What Emily takes out of your hide is her business." "Like she used... You!" Master Smithington spat, pointing at Emily. "You told her!" "You told her about us!" Emily ignored him and took off her top. Her shoulders and arms were sculpted. Her back bulged in an attractive V. "That's right, Smitty," said Mary Jo. "Us gals have been talking. Lifting weights and talking." Emily smiled up at Master Smithington and slid out of her high heels. She winked. "Do you feel up to it, Master?" she asked coyly as she slipped down her skirt. She stood before him in nothing but black panties, bra, and bare neck bowtie. "Up to it? I'm going to destroy you for telling our secret!" Master Smithington charged Emily. Emily sidestepped and tripped him. When he hit the mat, face down, Emily dropped a knee into the small of his back. He writhed around onto his side. Emily dug a heel into his throat. She stood on it, choking him. Master Smithington managed to topple Emily by grabbing a leg. He tried climbing on top of her but got his neck stuck between her tight thighs - his face mashed into her cunt. Emily grabbed his wrists and held them, easily controlling him. "My god!" Emily said. "This is like child's play! I can't believe you ever beat me!" Master Smithington flopped over as she choked him. He was only beet red - not purple - when Emily got bored, let go and stood up. She walked around her master as the man struggled to his hands and knees, panting. Emily dropped onto his back and put him into a perfect Camel Clutch, his chin in her hands, his arms over her legs. She sat on his back and pulled. She hummed happily to herself. Master Smithington howled for release. After a few minutes, Emily let him go, but she wasn't done. Emily applied a textbook Boston Crab next, until Master Smithington cried like a baby. After that, she joined him on the floor for a punishing Figure Four Leg Lock. "Emily! Forgive me PLEASE! PLEASE STOP!" he wailed. "I BEG OF YOU! I SUBMIT!" Eventually she let go and helped him up onto his damaged legs. Then she put him in a reverse headlock and dropped back, driving his head into the mat with her back on top of it. He flopped onto his back and went limp - all but the long lump in his shorts. Within fifteen minutes of the match starting, Master Smithington was out cold. Emily slid out of her panties and sat on his face, her butt hole over his nose. She shared a bottle of scotch with Mary Jo, who sat on his belly. "You were right, Mistress Shanks," she said. "Smitty is a total clod. No skill at all." She took a sip. "It feels good to be beating him up once more. Still, he is a unbelievable fuck. Amazing, really. I think I'll keep him." She rocked her little ass on his unconscious face. Mary Jo shrugged. "That's your call, Mistress Emily. Just remember to write my check. One hundred grand plus final bonus - you can decide what that will be. I've got enough money for college now." "College? Are you saving for the local university, Mistress Shanks?" Mary Jo nodded. "Smitty is on the board. I'll have a full scholarship offer to you by the end of the week." "No shit? Cool!" Mary Jo gave Emily a sparkling smile. "How about one for my roommate?" "No trouble. May we also keep you on retainer, Mistress?" Emily continued. "Two thousand a month, I believe? Full access to the room? Limo privileges?" "Fair enough." Mary Jo sipped her scotch. She was already making plans to set up a wrestling video business using the space. "Fair enough," Emily replied. "And... may I service you in your new boudoir tonight? I wish to show my gratitude." Emily licked her finger. Mary Jo smiled. She would have her fun on Emily's little face. After that, she couldn't wait to get home and tell Constance.