Roses are Red by Jasmine Hill

cat-like, her full scarlet lips a startling contrast. A leather choker was around her neck. Below the choker her cleavage spilled out of a corset tied gaspingly tight. The black leather mini she wore barely brushed the tops of her thighs. Two inches below started her stiletto boots.
    “Perrrfect,” she purred. “Goodbye, Sarah. Hello, Mistress Kitty,” she said to her reflection.
    She removed her mask and tucked it into her handbag and after donning a full-length black coat she left her apartment. When she arrived downstairs the car was already waiting.
    “Hello, Monty,” she greeted the driver as she slid into the back seat.
    “Good evening, Mistress,” he replied as he pulled away from the kerb and smoothly merged with the traffic.
    Her place of work was normally only a ten-minute drive from her apartment if the traffic was light, and about eleven minutes later Monty pulled to a stop in front of an understated multi-storey building. After parking, he made his way to the back door and assisted her out of the car.
    Kitty thanked him, punched in the security code and entered the building through a discreet doorway. As she did so, she stepped into Fantasy.
    From the outside the building looked identical to many others and could have been a typical office complex but on the inside it looked magical. Glittering chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, the walls were adorned with mirrors and expensive pieces of erotic art, plush lounge suites were expertly scattered to ensure privacy, and crystal glasses and expensive bottles of champagne and liqueurs adorned mirrored tables to be enjoyed with caviar and oysters. A selection of Venetian-style masks was also provided in which the clients could relax anonymously. Music was piped in through discreetly hidden speakers—never obtrusive, the music was selected for its mood-enhancing qualities.
    Another very important detail about Fantasy was that all clientele were assured absolute privacy and discretion. No real names were used and no contact details recorded. Madam Boudica followed a strict booking system and, whilst convoluted, it ensured that a customer’s privacy was guaranteed. Clients booked under an assumed name that was used for all subsequent bookings. Another assurance against identity exposure was the wearing of masks. There was also one particularly important rule—no sex with the clients.
    Mistress Kitty made her way over the plush carpet to the office to check her diary. Each of the girls had their own diary listing their clientele for each evening. The left-hand column recorded the client’s pseudonym, the middle column listed the particular fantasy the client wished to indulge, while in the right-hand column was recorded any particular requests or special instructions. She ran a manicured finger down the list of clients. All were regulars except for her first client of the evening—a Mr X.
    Not very original, perhaps he is new to the scene .
    Written in Mr X’s right-hand column was, ‘New client to Fantasy—enjoys pain but NOT domination.’
    Mistress Kitty was intrigued. Whilst her clients’ penchants ran to varied extremes, most of them enjoyed being dominated in some fashion. She took the lift up to level two where her dressing room was located. All the girls had their own dressing rooms complete with a shower and a bath and even a bed to which they could retire for a recharge nap. She checked her watch—she had half an hour before Mr X. She thought about how she should approach the session with her new client and decided that she would start off slow to get a feel for his expectations. All new clients were interviewed by Madam Boudica and given strict instructions regarding Fantasy rules and policy with particular attention to safe words and safety, but it was important for each Domme to personally connect with her clients.
    She touched up her makeup and at the appointed time she donned her mask, left her dressing room and made her way to the