Timid Little Lisa

By Paul Lewellan. Published on February 28, 2023.

Master William

According to his new client, she needed relief. A contentious divorce, an impending annual audit, the pressure of single-parenting, and her pending promotion suddenly lost to a female a decade younger had pushed her to the breaking point. 

He set the parameters and the fee structure for a three-session training package. She confirmed. “Let’s do this.”

Master William finished his ginger green tea and set down the delicate cup. “State your name and articulate your consent.” He recorded her response on his cellphone.

She read from the card he’d given her. “I, Melissa Anne Carny, give my consent to be instructed by....Master William.”

He leaned sympathetically forward, encouraging her. “Will you obey my commands within the agreed upon set boundaries?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“I will, Master William,” he corrected.

“I will, Master William.”

Master William studied his new client, a referral. She insisted she wanted to be a Submissive, like she’d seen in those movies. He had his doubts. “What shall I call you in the Training Room?”

“Call me Lisa, Master William.” 

He uncoiled from his chair — tall, muscular, and lean in his crisp white oxford shirt and Levi 501s. The right side of his face and neck were scarred from his third tour in Afghanistan. “No. I will call you Timid Little Lisa.” He noted her flinch. 

Melissa had come straight from work in a charcoal gray suit coat and skirt, sensible heels and a pale lavender blouse. He motioned. “My guest bathroom is to your right. Perhaps you’d like to step in there before we start.”

“I’m fine.” 

“You drank two cups of tea as we got acquainted. Once you’re in the Training Room, you won’t be allowed to leave. If you need to urinate, you’ll do it where you stand.” 

He noted a lapse in her resolve, a hesitation, then “I’m fine,” she said firmly.

“Leave your cell phone on the coffee table.”

She clutched the phone. “My mother picked the kids up from school; she might need to contact me.”  

“Put the phone on vibrate and give it to me. Or go home....”

Melissa surrendered the phone and followed him. He removed a riding crop from a stand by the door, and led her to a large room with a platform in the center and a St. Andrews cross near the back wall.

“In the Training Room you cannot speak unless I give you permission. You are no longer Melissa Anne Carny, accounting supervisor, mother of three. You are Timid Little Lisa, my submissive, whom I can use as I choose. If you understand, nod your head.”

She nodded.

Melissa Carny

Already she felt relief. Melissa was tired of being in charge, tired of making decisions, tired of being responsible.

“What are the safe words?” 

“Hold fast.”

“Excellent.” He removed a calfskin blindfold from his back pocket, tied it over her eyes, then led her to the raised platform. She waited silently as he circled her.

When Master William finally spoke again, his voice was softer and deeper. “Remove your suit jacket and toss it toward the sound of my voice.”

Melissa wanted him to hang it up, but she knew she couldn’t speak. His riding crop flicked on her right calf, and she felt the sting. 

She grabbed the sides of her jacket. “Slowly,” he intoned. “Your every movement must be choreographed to please me.”  

That thought had never occurred to her. She was, after all, writing the checks. Her mother would crap if she knew what she paid for this session. Her hesitation led to a sharper sting. 

“Don’t think, my Timid Little Lisa. Surrender.”

Yes, she realized, that would be easier. Not thinking. She unbuttoned the jacket’s two large buttons, shrugged the garment off her shoulders, and tossed it toward the sound of his voice.

“Now remove the blouse, it’s hideous.”

No—she thought–it isn’t. It’s Michael Kors. Do you have any idea what I paid for this–she felt the crop’s sting on her other calf. That will leave a mark. Melissa tugged the blouse from her waistband, excited by the thought of being naked with this man, but something didn’t feel right. 

“Master William....”  

She felt the crop immediately, the sharpest lash yet. “Speak only when spoken to.”

“What I meant to say was, ‘Hold Fast.’”

“The safe word?”

“Yes.”  

“Speak.”

Melissa took off the blindfold. “Maybe Submissive isn’t the role I’m looking for….”  

Master William grinned. “I could teach you to be a Top, rather than a Bottom,” he suggested.

“Really?”

“Why, yes, Mistress Lisa, I most certainly could. With pleasure.”  

Paul Lewellan retired from education after fifty years of teaching. He lives and gardens on the banks of the Mississippi River with his wife Pamela, his Shi Tzu Mannie, and their ginger tabby Sunny. He has recently published fiction in Kennings Literary Journal, True Chili, Jupiter Review, Blood and Bourbon, and Holy Flea Lit. Although he doesn't believe life begins at 74, it does get more interesting.