On The Minds Of Men

Chapter 1: Introductions

Mandy sat on him with her full weight of perhaps 200lbs. Her thighs, within her short, loose skirt, were spread apart over his chest and stomach. He was small and rather light; it was no contest. Any attempt on his part to resist would have failed, and with her massive body on him it would have been very easy for her to mete out retribution. But there was no struggle.

There had been, once: as she recalled those times, a smile flickered to life for a moment across her mouth and cheek. Each moment that she sat on this pinned, quiescent man felt like a fresh victory for her. And she knew that for the man under her, each moment brought a newly experienced taste of defeat.

Sandra could not take her eyes from them. She looked up at Mandy's fleshy face, at the North European paleness of her yellow hair and blue eyes, and then back down at the sheer fullness of the woman's thighs and bottom. It occurred to Sandra that Mandy was sitting on his mind just as heavily as on his body. Under that amount of pressure he would not really be able to drift into daydream or memory, or to concentrate on the various conversations taking place.

Whereas Mandy was free to think of him or not, as she pleased; at that moment, for example, she was chatting with some of the other women, drinking wine, dipping bread into the caviar paste. He was Mandy's long term partner, Sandra had been told. His small round face rested on its side, facing into the middle of the room, but his eyes seemed to be unfocused.

'Everything we do to our men, Sandra, is designed to deepen our relationships with them. They suffer, then they celebrate with us afterwards,' said Kath, the woman with short dark hair, who was nearly opposite Sandra, to Mandy's left. Hardly less heavy than Mandy, Kath was more muscular, especially about the upper body. Her thighs, displayed to full effect by her tight jeans, were, like Mandy's, spread wide apart over the torso of her man.

Although it was mid afternoon there was not much daylight, for the room was a basement, with only a row of small windows near the ceiling above Sandra's head. Most of the light lay in pools cast by lamps here and there. On low tables in the middle of the room were the remains of the women's meals, alongside half empty bottles. There were no chairs. There were instead two long lounges, a futon, two large, flattened bean bags, and a wooden bench. On each one of these items of furniture a man lay on his back, and on every man sat a woman. To Sandra's left was Anne, then Mandy against the other wall; then, more or less opposite Sandra, was Kath, with Gillian next to her, and then Jacqui nearest the kitchen.

The power relationships displayed around the room were too strange and too intoxicating for Sandra to attend properly to what was being said. The comments from the women followed quickly over one another, and Sandra could not yet distinguish one speaker from another.

'If they didn't suffer there'd be no spice.'

'Yeah, if we didn't go beyond their comfort zones, sometimes way beyond...'

'Then there wouldn't any thrill for them either.'

'You see Sandra, they always congratulate us afterwards for staying in control.'

'They have to suffer, whether its just discomfort -

'Prolonged discomfort -'

'Or even just bored immobility while we're eating and yacking -

'Or sometimes real pain -'

'Whatever it is, it's always real suffering and always something that sooner or later they stop enjoying and want to escape from -'

'Oh yes, but! However bad it gets for them there's always one chink of light, always one thread dangling down into the pit, and that light and that thread is that part of them knows that later they'll be adoring us for having had the will power to stay in the saddle and never let them throw us off.'

'And don't forget the pleasure they get from the anticipation beforehand. We are by far the best thing that has ever happened to any of them! And they all know it!'

This last comment was from Anne. Anne had long reddish brown hair with a slight wave in it, freckles, and hot-looking dark brown eyes. She seemed to be the odd one out in the group, for she was petite and distinctly smaller and lighter than her man. Nevertheless Anne was the only one that Sandra felt slightly afraid of. When Anne spoke to any of the men it was always in the tone of someone starting to get into a fight. She was a professional dominatrix. This was her house.

Sandra had already been shown the whips and other equipment in the adjoining room. She had visited two evenings earlier. Anne had shown her around the house, with Kath present too. That evening had seemed most exciting and exotic at the time; Sandra had watched, fascinated, at the open way that the two women bossed around their partners; she remembered the sight of their two men washing and drying dishes in the kitchen, speaking softly to each other about practicalities, as Kath and Anne sat over drinks with her, describing the various forms of female domination that most appealed to them. And then an imposing tall black woman had called in to speak to Anne, and she turned out to be another professional... but that evening seemed much closer to everyday life than what Sandra was experiencing now.

When Mandy ate anything they all seemed very interested.

'Sandra's wondering why you're all watching me,' Mandy said. 'She'll think it's some kind of ceremony.'

'Well in a way it is,' Kath said. She turned to Sandra. 'We believe,' she went on, 'that Mandy and her partner are entering a new phase. At their home she spends an awful lot of time squashing him down, you know, just like she is now. And the weight differential is quite high. As she puts on more weight, well, we just wonder what he can endure.' 'Much more yet,' Mandy said, accepting a honey cake from a plate offered by Anne. For some reason this brief exchange seemed to enliven everyone.

The talk become louder and faster. It was all so disorienting! Sandra felt as though she was watching a faulty television that kept flickering from colour to black and white: at one moment she was delighted and invigorated by this display of female power and control, but an instant later it would all seem mad, scary, impossible. She was glad the other women were more or less leaving her alone; though she guessed that the discussion was often mainly for her benefit, covering topics where the other women already knew each other's opinions, and were agreed.

Were there any tensions within the group? Gillian, almost opposite her, was undoubtedly the most attractive of the women from a conventional point of view, with her pretty face and bright blonde hair. Talkative, nervy, with a girlish voice, and wearing lollipop pink lipstick and matching hair band, was she annoying to some of the other women? If so there was no sign of it. Her eyes sometimes glinted in the light from the high windows. She sat with her long legs together, hands folded on her knees which sometimes swayed from side to side. Although not very plump in the upper body, she spread out considerably below the waist. Her man, stretched beneath her, was decidedly thin, with the same sunken leanness as a catwalk model.

And how did Jacqui, to Gillian's left, get on with the rest of them? At first Sandra had confused her with Kath, though Jacqui was less heavy and had a softer look, and smiled more often. Jacqui's superb breasts would have been enough to stir up jealous dislike in some women. Jacqui did seem a little apart from the others in her manner: more casual somehow, less intense; but she too sat on her man. He looked more muscular than the others males, as though he worked out at a gym, and was probably as heavy as Jacqui, and he seemed more connected with what was happening than the other men. At one point he put his hands casually behind his head (though Jacqui at once leant down a spoke softly to him, and his hands returned to his sides). But like the other men he did not look at anybody; it seemed to be a rule of the place.

Unfortunately, Sandra thought, she herself seemed to be the odd one out. Anne in particular seemed to frown whenever she turned vaguely Sandra's way, as though at some social error. Meanwhile Sandra's own man was becoming restless under her. She felt his stomach muscles tighten, heard his teeth grind. Obviously he was not enjoying the reality of the situation, however interested he'd been to come here. Sandra had feared it might not be easy, he was so changeable and restless; still, it was disappointing. Several times Sandra almost got off him, but instead, at the last moment just resettled herself, feeling more and more self conscious.

At last Sandra could bear her tension no longer and asked where the toilet was, just to give her man some time to breathe. Anne showed her down the corridor, asked her to close the far door. Returning into the room Anne closed the nearer door too, and instead of returning to her futon, she walked over to Sandra's man and fetched him a tremendous slap across the face.

'You selfish coward!' she cried. A mark came up red on is face in moments, and the rest of his face reddened. 'Stop upsetting your wife with all your writhing around! You're really getting on my nerves.' He rose up onto one elbow, glaring at her. He opened his mouth as if about to say something. 'Stop!' 'Don't speak!' several of the woman called over one another. 'Don't say a word!' 'And stop looking at me!' said Anne. 'Lie down!' all the women began saying to him. Kath got up and stood close beside Anne.

'Don't argue, just take it from her,' Kath told him. He finally looked away from Anne, who continued to watch him closely. 'Kath's right,' Jacqui added gently but firmly, still sitting on her own man. 'Anne did all that for your own good.'

'You should be grateful,' said Mandy.

'You know very well that you wanted to come here,' Jacqui said. 'Anne just helped you to remember that it isn't always easy, especially at first. Lie back down now.' And he did so.

'And stop looking for attention,' said Anne sharply. 'That's right' said Kath, 'anything more from you would be revolting.' Kath resumed her male seat, but Anne remained where she was, her fists on her hips.

'I could get my man to speak to him afterwards,' suggested Jacqui, leaning towards Gillian.

'No,' said Gillian at once. 'He needs to bond with us first.' 'Badly,' said Anne. She bent down toward his face. 'Listen to me carefully. The time will soon arrive when you will love us. All of us. Love us, and long for us. Then you'll be desperately glad you have Sandra as your partner and are therefore allowed to return here.' As she finished speaking the room was very quiet. She knelt down close beside him as he lay on the bench, still watching him through narrowed eyes. 'Are you beginning to understand?' He nodded, swallowed. A collective female sigh went through the room. Anne tousled his hair then stood up, just as Sandra returned.

Later, as they were all leaving, Kath and Jacqui both came out to see off Sandra and her husband, and stayed talking to them for some time by their car.

'So bright outside in the daylight,' isn't it?' said Sandra.

'It's important to have someone with you when you hit the everyday world again, after your first meeting.' "Yes. it's all quite - enormous, isn't it?' 'It's an enormous change,' and there's a danger of coming out of your meeting and thinking "hey wow! did that really go on?" And that's not always a good feeling.'

In the sunlight Sandra noticed the mark on her husband's face.

'What happened?' she cried. He looked down, began to mumble something, but Kath spoke over him at once.

'Sandra, as soon as you left the room Anne slapped him, as punishment for making you feel uncomfortable. It did him good.' Sandra raised her fingers to the mark on his cheek, but he put his own hand over it first. He felt unable to speak. For the first hour in that room he'd wanted nothing else than to get away and never return, to write it all off as a mistake. And now that he was free again in the outside world, now, when it would have been so easy to go away and never come back, the memory of what had just happened was pouring into him like a swift cold stream that had already quenched all his objections, and all he wanted to do was return.