The Corporal and His Contessa

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

When he's kneeling before his Mistress, Charles Reubern finds out what true freedom is.

After a medical discharge ends his career, Charles returns home a lonely man. He finds a way to deal with crippling PTSD and his physical disability with the help of his friends, but not in the way some people would expect. He finds that submission is a way to let his mind go and keep the nightmarish flashbacks at bay. His awkwardness with women leaves him seeking someone who can be lifelong well as free him from his own mind. Unable to find someone he connects with that is already in the Lifestyle he's come to depend on, he finds himself falling for a waitress. He takes a chance to ask her out, then ask her to be his Mistress.

His Submission


“Don’t you dare move one inch,” Contessa’s voice commanded from behind the Corporal.

The Dungeon was dimly lit, and it was a great comfort to the bound man on his knees before his Domme. Also of great comfort, was their closeness to a nearby couch. Should it become necessary, She would be able to move him onto it. His bad leg was beginning to ache as he held the kneeling position. He sat back on his heels and allowing his weight to rest on the balls of his feet. It was not yet enough that he needed to signal Her. His breath came in pants and he focused on the sensations caused by being bound.

Focusing on his wrists, he felt the pressure from the supple leather cuffs. The cuffs clipped to the D ring on the back of his matching leather collar. It made any move to relax increase the pressure on his neck. The strain on his shoulders and back was pleasant and painful at the same time as he kept his back straight and his elbows out. A slight sheen of sweat had appeared on his skin, and he could feel the sharper twinge of pain that came from the circular scar in his left shoulder. He could hear the slight jingle from the nipple clamp chain that had been fed through the front D-ring in his collar. The clamps themselves were metal clover clamps and the slightest movement increased the pain and pressure, especially if he moved his head or hands. The cool metal bounced against his chest and belly with each breath. His desert camo fatigue shirt hung open and he could keenly feel the soft material brush against the bruises on his back.

Perhaps the most comforting feel was the wide leather belt just below his slightly pudgy belly that wound around his hips. It rested near some of the thicker scars that began at his hips and went downward. Kneeling in this position made the presence of the connecting straps that ran from the belt down the front and sides of his thighs feel tighter. He could sense the scars keenly because the newer flesh was so much more sensitive than the other skin. Where they buckled to the wide leather cuffs at mid-thigh, he could see and feel the flesh puffing above and below them. His bare thighs felt slightly cold, and he glanced toward his folded fatigue pants with his combat boots sitting atop them.

The sight of his uniform forced a sudden series of memories to impinge on his thoughts. There, in the once serene landscape, memories of blood raining down and the sounds of explosions began to replay. He actively fought the feeling of panic rising in his chest. There were a million reasons why this happened, and those were the reasons he knelt here tonight before his Mistress. Once again, this week had been bad for him; one of his best friends was still gone for an unknown amount of time under FBI protection. He and his Mistress were still under the watch of an FBI agent and might be at risk of being a target. All of this brought forward the memories of the battlefield and the feeling of fearing for his life. There was the echo of an explosion in his mind and his pants started to come faster and faster.


Somewhere between the sting of the impact and the sound of the crop his eyes flew open; the explosion and blood faded. He stared at his left thigh where a bright red splotch was beginning to form. The mark was above the point on his leg where the twisted scar tissues covering the left side of his leg began.


That single stern word from Contessa was enough to force everything out of his mind except the current moment. The past faded as the pain transformed the anxiety into something more manageable.

“Yes, Mistress. Yes.” He swallowed hard as an identical red mark appeared on his other thigh. “Ahhh,” he exhaled slowly.

His Mistress. His everything. He looked up at Her with adoring eyes. Her blonde hair was perfect as always, pulled up into a tight bun. Her back was straight and the riding crop She held seemed to be an extension of Her arm. It drew his focus to the strap of the handle which was adorned with a small gold ball. The black leather of the strap and handle contrasted against the white leather of the elbow-high gloves She wore. Smoothly, She lifted Her arm and snapped the crop down across his left thigh. Another spot of red arose and he felt his cock twitch in the metal chastity device he wore. There was no doubt a puddle was gathering under him because he could feel himself dripping. She would deny him many times when he started begging for release.

When She turned Her back to him, the Corporal was taken by Her sheer beauty. The black leather miniskirt She wore accented the pronounced curve of Her ass and ended just above the lace edged thigh-highs. He could barely see the ends of the straps to Her black garter belt. The white, sheer blouse barely obscured the black lace accented corset She wore under it. He knew Her corset displayed Her breasts prominently. They were dusted with glitter, and he knew and it would taste like raspberries if he were permitted to have a taste.

“How many so far, My slave?” She asked as She turned back to face him.

“Th-three, Mistress.” His answer was stuttered from excitement.

Smack. The crop sounded much louder when She slapped it on the table near their scene. “And how many more?” She demanded.

“Seven.” The response was immediate and without hesitation. He had earned ten. He wanted ten. He needed ten.

“Good, good.” She circled him again. “Shall we continue?” She asked.

He knew She was asking for confirmation; She was ensuring that his leg was still in good enough condition to continue. He knew She would change his position if that not was the case. He had no fear of his Mistress; She would take him as far as he wanted to go and no further.

“Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress.”


His Problem

Several Months Ago

“Sasha…” Charles Ruebern couldn’t keep the whine out of his voice. “She’s gorgeous,” he muttered as he planted his face on the surface of bar.

Beside him was his friend Sasha, a man he’d served under in the army until his discharge. Sasha sat and listened to him go on and on about the waitress he’d seen at her workplace three times in the last two weeks.

“Ask her out, then, and stop being so…” Sasha sighed and ran a hand over his black buzzcut hair before scratching his stubbly chin. Charles knew what he was going to say. Stop being so submissive. But Sasha knew he couldn’t help it. “Okay, you are going to have to take a chance, Charles. You can’t just let her go if you want her so desperately.” He reached over and placed a firm hand on the back of Charles’s neck.

Charles sat up immediately with a bit less desperation in his eyes. The weight and pressure of Sasha’s hand helped him focus. He took a deep breath as Sasha removed his hand and Charles picked up his beer. “You’re right, but you know I don’t do well with this part. Carmine would laugh at me. I wish I had his confidence.”

Sasha smiled. “Carmine isn’t a sub. I know it is not easy for you to take this step, but you must do so. Is she in the Lifestyle?” he asked as he sipped his vodka splashed with green apple liquor. Sasha’s voice picked up more of his Russian accent when he was drinking. It always made Charles smile, because he otherwise tried to hide it. Charles turned his head and looked at him.

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head.

Sasha glanced at him. “Then how is it she's going to satisfy your needs, Charles?”

Swallowing thickly, Charles chewed his lip for a few seconds. “I don’t know, but maybe I can recruit her? She’s got the markers for being a good Domme. She exudes that presence and it is so intoxicating.”

Sasha sighed again and stared at Charles before smirking and raising his drink in toast. “Udachi, my friend.” He took another sip of his drink.

“I don’t know how you drink that awful shit. Vodka is bad enough by itself,” Charles said before downing the last of his beer as Sasha chuckled.

His Strength

One Week Later

Charles had been back in St. Peters, and once again he was sitting in the all-night diner. He started coming here while working a side job hauling car parts for a small mechanic shop. He ran a lunchtime radio show, but it didn’t pay well. He had gotten a side job doing the only other thing he knew best: driving. While in the military, he trained as a Motor Transport Operator. Driving long distances and loading and unloading trucks was something he was used to doing from his time in the military. That made it was easy to pick up the part time job for McShoogin’s Mechanic Shop. All he had to do was pick up parts shipments in St. Louis and bring them to St. Peters. Since he lived in St. Louis, he got to keep the work van during his off time. Some days he got done early, but others it was well after dark when he got all the parts unloaded finally. The first time he stopped at the local Randy’s had been because it was late enough that it had been the only place open.

That first time he’d stopped here, he saw her. She wasn’t his waitress then, but a young girl named Janet was. At first, he didn’t think much of the tall, buxom blonde bussing some nearby tables. Then, a rowdy patron at the table next to his grabbed Janet’s ass and made some rude comment to her.

The other waitress’s head lifted and her blue eyes settled on the perpetrator of the comment. A few strides took her from the dirty table she was bussing to where the younger woman stood trying to politely disengage the drunk man’s hand from her skirt. One purposeful smooth move, and the other waitress had pulled his hand away.

“Do not touch her again or I’ll have you escorted out of the restaurant. Sir.”

The man had laughed, but the blonde waitress didn’t waver. A few minutes later, he’d been escorted out cursing her and the younger waitress as he went. Charles caught sight of her name tag and saw it read Clair. He smiled to himself as she comforted Janet. After a while, Clair had come and taken over his table. He couldn’t do anything except drop a ten-dollar tip and mutter “Thank You.”

Over the next month, he had stopped there as often as possible. She waited his table a few more times. Once he saw her speaking with a very tall, muscular man with multi-colored hair. She had kissed the taller man on the cheek before he left with the young waitress, Janet. Despite being afraid the man might have been her boyfriend, he needed to take this chance to talk to her. Just seeing her made his heart race and it wasn’t just her looks. It was in the way she carried herself, and the way she cared for the younger waitress; it all spoke of the type of dominance he was looking for.

After speaking with Sasha, he felt more confident. Being submissive didn’t make him weak and he knew it. Nonetheless, it did make this harder. It also didn’t help that he had never been very good with women. Carmine was so good with women, and Sasha was already married.

Today had been an early day; the van had only been half full so unloading it hadn’t taken very long. It always seemed to take longer than he wanted because he had to break frequently to give his bad leg a rest. He was lucky that he didn’t get paid by the hour, instead being paid per trip and the weight of the load. Since he had to take so many breaks, hourly would have gotten him fired.

He found himself hesitating as she came toward the table, but he screwed up his courage enough to speak to her.

“I’m sorry, Miss Clair, but I was wondering if I could ask you a question.” He turned his face up to her as she sat down his glass of iced tea.

She looked at him and blinked. “Oh, what is it?” she inquired. Her voice was so lovely. There was a husky tone to it, but it had such strength behind it. It made his stomach flip just being near her, and even as nervous as he was, he just felt calmer around her.

“I imagine you get propositioned a lot in this job by rude men who see you as no more than an object.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. That sounded so ridiculous.

The waitress narrowed her gorgeous blue eyes and stared at him before responding. “You would be correct.”

“Never mind; this was stupid.” Licking his lips in nervousness, he looked away from her and ran a shaking hand over his shaggy brown hair.

A good minute passed before she said anything. He turned back in nervousness to see what she was going to do. Then she gave him a half smile. “Meet me out front after my shift ends at five. We can get coffee if you like.”

Charles watched her go in utter shock. He nodded emphatically to himself and left with more confidence than he knew he had.

His Surprise

Later That Day

Five o’clock came around, and Charles stood nervously waiting for her to come out of the diner. He’d gone home and changed out of the grimy work clothes he wore on deliveries. He had returned in nice jeans and a dark blue button up shirt as well as with his own car. Clair came out, still in the clothes she wore at work, only without her apron. Even though it was just a simple black A-line skirt and a white blouse, her presence took his breath away.

“Well, come on, then,” she commanded as she walked past him down the sidewalk.

He quickened his steps and caught up to her and instinctually walked behind her. She kept a swift pace and turned into one of those fancy coffee shops that seem to pop up on every corner these days. He followed her inside as she placed her order, then mechanically put in his own order. Once they acquired their drinks and sat down at a table, she looked over her coffee at him.

“So, you wanted to ask me out.”

Somewhat in shock that she’d agreed, he nodded. “And you wanted to come out with me. I didn’t think you would.”

“Maybe I was intrigued.”

“I seduced you with my awkwardness?” he asked, giving her a wry smile.

She smiled in return. “Something like that. You haven’t even introduced yourself yet, so I would say awkward is an understatement. I know your name is Charles, from your uniform.”

Charles reddened immediately. “Oh, God, I forgot. Um, I’m Charles Ruebern. I’m so sorry.” He apologized as he reached across the table.

She shook his hand. As expected, Charles found her handshake to be firm and without hesitation. “Clair Jaeger.” She grinned at him. “You deliver car parts to McShoogins.”

“Yeah, guess you’d say that’s my side gig,” he sighed as he stared at his hands. “I have this radio show I run during lunchtimes, but it doesn’t pay the bills. You know, a work of passion, so I have to do something to make money.” He sipped his coffee. “After I got discharged from the army, I spent some time in a bottle, y’know. When I pulled myself out, with my buddies’ help, I started doing the radio thing.” He blinked, looking up at her. “I’m sorry. That was way overshare.”

Instead of seeming annoyed, Clair smiled. “No, it’s okay. I mean, first dates are about sharing, right?”

First date? Charles felt his heart start to pound. That indicated there might be a second. “I guess you’re right. I just have never been good with women. My buddy, he’s so smooth. I think he can get anyone in bed. I’ve seen him seduce a dude and a girl at the same damn time…” he muttered morosely.

“That’s some talent,” she smirked. “He seems like a slick number.”

Charles smiled, starting to relax. Talking about someone else was a whole lot easier than talking about himself. “Oh, God, yes. He loves it, though. Well, kind of. He doesn’t like having so many lovers, but he hasn’t found the one that stuck, y’know? I swear, I wish I had half his ability with women. I don’t go for men, so I’ll skip that part.”

“My big brother doesn’t do well with women or men, but it doesn’t bother him. He moved back recently after being out in California for a while. He was telling me about a bad experience he had out there. He’s not into relationships now, he says. Something I’m not surprised about. I believe he just hasn’t dealt with what happened…” she trailed off and sipped her drink.

“Um, that the big guy with the blue hair?” he asked, noticing her look of concern. “Oh, that’s your brother,” he mumbled almost to himself.

“Yeah, Varick,” she nodded. “He’s a sweetie, a lot rougher looking than he is. He’s a big teddy bear. Our father used to call him Moppelchen when he was a little boy because he was so chubby.”


“Our father’s German, I thought the last name gave it away.” She gave him an amused grin. “Moppelchen means ‘little chubbsie’. Really cute, you know.” As she spoke, she swirled the coffee in the paper cup.

Charles smiled again, completely drawn in by her presence. “I don’t have any siblings.” Charles sighed as he started thinking about the past. “Just me and my dad growing up. Well, and my buddy Carmine. He lived next door to me, and we lived down in what I guess you’d call a questionable neighborhood.”

“You said you were in the military? Did you just do one tour or something and get out?”

Shaking his head, he took a breath. “Nah, I was the driver for my company, and we got into a bad spot, bomb went off and we had to leave the cars.” His eyes went distant for a few minutes. “I got out and the guy next to me stepped on an IED. Caught some of the blast, messed up my leg.” Clair’s brows furrowed as she listened to him. For some reason, Charles kept rambling. “If that wasn’t bad enough, we were being shot at too.” Unconsciously, he winced as his hand when to his left shoulder at the memories. “Took a bullet, along with a few of my unit.” He glanced up at her. “Oh, I, ah, I left on medical discharge after I healed up. My leg got pretty messed up, something about permanent nerve damage. But it doesn’t bother me too much.”

Clair gave him an encouraging smile, and his heart practically stopped. “I want to be an actress.” She paused. “My brother tells me I can do it, but I don’t believe him. I mean, I live I the middle of Missouri. I can’t possibly be successful.”

“My friend, Carmine, he’s an actor, you know. Maybe I could ask him if he could get you some auditions or something?” he asked.

“Really? Stage or screen?” she inquired. She tipped the coffee back to finish it.

“Stage, he does Shakespeare in the Park every year. And he does a few other local productions during the rest of the year. He went to the University here and got a theater arts degree while I was over in the sandbox getting shot at. He tried to go into the military too, but they wouldn’t let him.” Charles remembered how upset Carmine had gotten over the fact they refused to let him enlist. “So, he stayed here, and did what he’s good at. I mean, he’s really good, too. His mentor offered to put in a word in some big studios for him if he wanted. But he stayed here in St. Louis. Kinda a shame, I think he could make it big if he tried. He’s really talented,” he mused as he finished his own coffee. Now, without a drink, he felt even more awkward sitting here with her.

When Clair didn’t move to get up or leave, Charles realized that things were going better than he had hoped. He had been sure that she would have been in a rush to get out of here. Instead, she sat there, passing her empty cup back and forth between her hands.

“Why’s he staying here, anyway? If he could make it in the big screen business?”

Charles sighed. “His mom. She’s all he’s got, you know? She raised him alone, and it wasn’t easy for them. His mom’s white, and he never knew his dad. But his dad was black. He doesn’t fit anywhere, he says. So, he stays here to take care of his mom. She’s got some medical problems. I think he said she’s got some disease that limits her movement, something neuropathy or something like that. She’s also got diabetes which is related to it. She’s really nice, though. I practically lived in their kitchen growing up. So much food… So much. It isn’t any wonder I had to work so hard to get in shape once I got in the military.” He smiled at the memories. “Ms. Deangelo is some kind of cook…”

“Deangelo?” Clair sounded surprised. “That’s your friend? Carmine Deangelo?”

“Yeah, you seen him in something?” He gave her a proud smile. He was always so proud of Carmine when someone remembered him.

“Oh, yes, I saw him in Hamlet at Shakespeare in the Park this summer. He was amazing as Laertes. Before that he played Mercutio in a small stage production of Romeo and Juliet I saw at the University.” Clair blushed a little. “I’m sorry, I’m a sucker for Shakespeare, if I can make it to any production, I’ll go, even high school plays.”

“That’s cool, I go to all Carmine’s shows, at least on opening night. He gets me seats up front with his mom. He’s going to be doing Much Ado later this year, October I think. I forget where though.”

There was a short silence. “I wonder if you might want to have dinner.” Clair locked eyes on him. “I’m free this weekend.”

Charles felt his face redden and he nodded, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

His Request

A Few Months Later

After a few months of dating, including attending many movies and plays, Charles decided to find out if she would be willing to join him in the Lifestyle. He was still certain of his decision not to participate in the Lifestyle with others he was not romantically involved with. It had not been easy. These days, he would only go with Carmine or Sasha, but he would only ever watch. If Clair decided not to join him, he would learn to live without the Lifestyle. Either way, her mere presence was enough to calm him most days. There were times when he needed something more fulfilling, and he wanted her to be the one to give it to him. He wanted her to claim every single part of him, from his mind to his body. More than that, he was never surer in his life that he was in love. If he could get her to agree, it would be the thing to make him whole.

After a movie date one evening, they were having dinner at a restaurant and discussing the movie. With Carmine’s help, Charles had become a lot more knowledgeable about film and drama. He’d gone from not knowing the basics of how movies were made to understanding stage directions and different types of lighting. There was a pause in their conversation, and Charles started staring at his hands in hesitation. He was gathering his thoughts and every ounce of courage he had for what he was about to say.

“Charles, is there something wrong?”

He looked back up at her and took a deep breath before speaking. “I think I love you, Clair,” he began. She looked at him in surprise and started to speak. “Wait, hear me out, okay? And if you aren’t okay with it, I won’t fault you. I just can’t hold off any more, and I have to know. If you say no to what I’m asking, fine, I’ll live. I’ll figure it out and never ask again, but regardless you need to know about it.”

Clair nodded, tucking her hands under her chin. Around them, the restaurant buzzed and no one paid any attention to the couple in the corner booth. The waiter had brought them a refill on their drinks and their shared dessert. Charles had split the piece of chocolate cake as they sat adjacent to each other in the booth. He picked up the fork and tapped it at his lip for a second before he spoke.

“So, that first date we went on when I couldn’t shut up, I told you about how I got medically discharged. I told you about the bomb, about the IED, and getting shot. I told you I got into alcohol and Carmine and Sasha, my two best friends, helped me get out of it,” he blurted out all at once, then paused and took a deep breath. What was she going to think? “Well, I didn’t get out of it the way a lot of people do. Carmine, he took me to this club. Sasha, I didn’t tell you he was my superior in the army when I got injured. He went there too, and between the two of them, they showed me a way I could deal with my PTSD.” He put the fork into his mouth and bit down on the tines before he moved it to rest against his bottom lip again. “See, the club, it’s a BDSM club. I’m not like them; they’re both Dominant. I’m submissive.”

Clair tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. “You mean like bondage stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I dated a couple ladies from the club, and I learned some stuff. I found out that being tied up, as well as the pain from being hit or something, helps me focus and get through my anxiety and panic attacks. But I can’t just do what Carmine does. He can go down and play with people he’s not dating or anything. I need more. I need to be with someone I love and care about, not just some random woman. It’s not about sex, but I can’t say I mind sex with a beautiful woman.” He put the fork down when he realized he was playing with it. Clair nodded at him to encourage him to continue. “So, I think I’m in love with you, Clair Jaeger, and as hard as it was to ask you out that first time this is even harder…”

“Charles, you didn’t ask me out to start with. I believe I was the one who asked you out when you stumbled over the attempt.” She smirked and leaned over to put a hand against his cheek.

He blushed and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You want me to do this with you. Learn how to do this Domination thing,” she stated, leaning back and sipping her tea slowly.

Charles gave another nod. “If…if you want. It would help me. It helps me deal with the flashbacks and the nightmares. I think it would also help you build confidence in a lot of ways. You don’t think you can succeed but maybe this can help you with that.” His blush deepened and he dropped his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, here I am asking you for this and we haven’t even slept together yet, or even talked about it,” he whispered.

There was a long pause in which Clair appeared to be thinking. “My brother is going to kill me,” she muttered. She shook her head with a sigh. “I think I love you, too, Charles, so help me, I’ve never fallen for someone so fast. You’re sweet, attentive, and you want to make me happy. You’ve never put a hand on me that I didn’t want, and you’ve always been kind to others around you. I can tell a lot by how a person treats their servers.” When the waiter came back, she smiled and thanked him as he picked up their dinner plates and left the check. “You are always good to those that provide you services. You are a good man, Charles Ruebern. If it is something to make you happy, I am willing to try.”

Charles smiled and opened his mouth to reply but stopped when she held up a finger. “I’ll make no promises. I’m not sure I can do what you want of me, but we’ll see how things work out.”

His Bliss



“Number,” barked the hard voice.

“Ten, Mistress. Ten!” Charles yelped, shifting uncomfortably. His leg was starting to seize in its bindings. “Red,” he gasped out, having reached his limit. “Leg.”

Immediately, he felt Her arm wrap around him to lift him up enough to let him adjust his legs out from under him. She reached down and unsnapped the clip that connected his thigh cuffs to each other. Next, She unclipped the wrist cuffs from the back of his collar and let him put an arm around Her shoulders. She guided him to the nearby couch. She gently lowered him onto it before She sat down beside him and pulled him against Her. She began running Her fingers over the marks on his thighs. He leaned into Her grip and sighed deeply. “Mistress,” he muttered as She stroked a hand over his head.

“I’m here, I’m here,” She whispered. “You did wonderfully, such a good slave. You make Me so proud to own you, My love. So very proud.”

His brown eyes rolled upward to meet Her blue ones. “Thank you, Mistress, thank you.”

She pulled his body close to Her and in that moment, She was the only thing that existed. Her scent, Her taste, Her heartbeat… She was his everything.

Submitted: April 17, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Beverly L. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Check out Beverly L. Anderson's Book

The Corporal and His Contessa

Sitting at her feet, he finds peace.

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