procurer (prəˈkjʊərə) or feminine procuress
n.
a person who procures (someone who obtains or acquires), esp one who procures women or girls as prostitutes, a pander or pimp.

whoremaster, whoremonger

Mrs. Elena Lincoln is a well-known matchmaker in BDSM circles. I've also heard her referred to as a procurer in equally hushed and scandalized tones. We look on in amusement as terms like prostitution, West Coast Madam and escorts are bandied about. They have no idea what she's done for us, the subs.

She's almost singlehandedly put the "safe" in "Safe, Sane and Consensual" by creating a framework for Tops and bottoms to properly screen one another before meeting or scening for the first time. She seems to know everyone in the scene, and every little thing about them. Their likes and dislikes, habits, finances, professions and addresses. That's far more than one knows on the average blind date. Vital if you intend to fuck or be fucked, or G-d forbid gagged, bound or otherwise at dubious mercy of another. So, she more than deserves the respect she's granted.

While almost anyone can practice BDSM, it's not really a lifestyle for the very poor. Domination and submission don't work very well under duress. Who wants to leave their safety in the hands of Fetlife? Just going to the clubs requires a membership, but even at half a grand per year, it's no real guarantee of safety.

Enter Mrs. Lincoln. She's practically an urban legend. Someone sees the "Mrs." in front of her name and instantly sees 'Missus' but no, that's Mistress to the unwashed… But who really cares anyway? She managed to walk away from her marriage with money to burn and has a chain of very exclusive salons to prove it.

There's an Esclava in all the best communities in Seattle, the flagship salon located in the prestigious Bravern Center. She'd been featured in several news outlets as one of the most phenomenal female entrepreneurs. As a Domme, Mistress walked the walk. She was wealthy, powerful and had her own sub. People clamored to be trained by her, but more so be matched by her because she made the best connections. One could belong to the most exclusive clubs and not set up a better contract. She always made sure that they had the best terms and that neither party got shafted.

So many subs had gotten themselves contracted to abusive Doms and to their horror quickly found out that pain to their bodies paled against financial suffering. Subs, basically required to totally relinquish their finances to irresponsible Doms, were often repaid for their submission with bad credit scores and financial devastation. I knew one sub had been ordered by her Master to turn over custody of her minor children to her ex-husband since he wanted TPE and didn't feel their home-life would be conducive to raising them. Less than a couple years later, she returned a total wreck. No money. No children. And no Dom.

Mistress Lincoln put paid to crap like that. There were no unfortunate and ugly surprises lurking to disturb one's peace of mind. So while it was bad news that Mr. K had ended our contract just as it had been renewed, it hadn't come as a complete surprise. At least not to Mrs. Lincoln. Nothing surprised Mistress.

She had given me a complete profile of Sir before we began scening, so I knew he was a beginner, a BDSM dabbler and philanderer. I usually didn't choose arrangements with Doms who were married, regardless of their 'open' relationships, because they never seemed to end well. Jealousy always played a part, causing undue tension and increasing risk. Risk that Mistress explained was completely unnecessary as long as I remembered my place and maintained the proper emotional distance.

Under her tutelage, I was able to explore a greater degree of submission as I could trust the Doms selected for me would treat me well and not abuse my mind or my body. After signing with Mistress, I never once had to safeword because no-one violated my hard limits. Although my soft limits were often challenged, I never had to worry about my wellbeing. This equated to far more freedom and latitude. I had much more time to dedicate to enriching activities which enhanced my personal satisfaction.

Payment for personal care was often built in so a sub wouldn't have to pay for it. Just show up and have their sets, trims and waxes done since these services were part and parcel of our submission. Best idea ever. There were so many subs coming out of pocket for things they could honestly care less about. Between Doms, sure one had to take care of oneself, but when you're under the control of another person, it's that individual's responsibility to make sure the sub's needs are met. Mistress insisted that what she considered reasonable expectations were built into every contract. Sure, it may have seemed like a major investment on the front end, but the overall satisfaction of both parties proved that her methods paid dividends. The only thing the sub should have to worry about was pleasing his or her Master.

Yes, that was another thing. People often made the assumption that only women made good subs. Not only incredibly sexist, but ill-informed critics were shocked when they witnessed the high volume of heterosexual men who wanted to bottom. That was another fallacy. That men who wanted to bottom were either essentially effeminate and/or gay. How far they were off the mark!

The only problem, if one could call it that, I saw with BDSM was that it seemed to be the catchall for every element of the community. And even that often worked as a benefit. There were all types of people, from all walks of life that wanted to enrich their lives while having their deepest needs met. It wasn't all whips and chains. It was meet-and-greets, munches and even family-oriented events for those that were so-inclined. Family was usually one of the first casualties when one 'outed' oneself as alternate.

The subs had it the worst. Just because we like to be told what to do and how to do it, doesn't necessarily mean that we desire to be humiliated or subjected to unconscionable acts. Yes, there are quite a few 'slaves' in the community, but that's a choice and a way of life. There aren't many of us called to that particular aspect of submission. Making someone else's whims the total focus of one's life is far more control than the vast majority of us are willing to consider.

With BDSM, there were no worries about 'no' meaning no. Opportunities for misunderstanding and confusion were significantly reduced as open communication was its hallmark. Not having to disguise one's leanings was a relief and resulted in fewer faked orgasms. 'Red' ended everything. There weren't many in the scene that would dare to ignore a safeword. First, no-one would want to sub for them again. Second, they could be blacklisted. Third, and this was the worst punishment by far, being left to a vanilla lifestyle, hoping some 'norm' would accept even a trickle of one's kink. It was death by degrees and never in any way worth contemplating.

Maintaining a strong reputation was key. Trust was vital. Especially when problems cropped up as they generally do. In the battle of "He say/she say" it was always best to be on the side of the angels because we never wanted to take our issues to court. I could see it now…

"So, you signed this contract (scoffing while waving the pages of the contract in the air, no doubt) saying Mr. A could whip, flog, and penetrate your vagina with various objects, but you want this Court to have him incarcerated for 'caressing' your feet?"

So sure, we all had our kinks but they were usually as different as fingerprints. We were all extra special snowflakes and there was no way any court in the land would be able to protect us if things went south. First, there was an accepted bias against things that were considered different, along with the prevalent attitude that you got what was coming to you for being a deviant. Second, 'proof' of your consent (usually in the form of a BDSM contract) was often used against you, even if it wasn't blanket consent. The mindset was if you accepted X and Y, Z must surely have been a given. Third, even the best contracts couldn't cover every eventuality. If they did, contracts would be thicker than the Bible or Gone With The Wind.

That's why I found myself really pissed with the way Sir dumped me. We had just renewed our fucking contract! I needed that feeling, the exertion, the rush of completion. Especially after that last scene. He hardly ever gave it to me so good. I thought this was the beginning of a deeper relationship, that he'd moved up from merely dabbling to enacting more complex scenes, but he probably had his eyes on the door the whole time. I felt used and humiliated. And the check and the school brochures he gave me did absolutely nothing to diminish that emotion. He may as well have given me a pat on the head on my way out.

Anger isn't a good look for me. Neither is frustration. Before I met up with Mistress, I was going to need a stiff drink to fortify myself. I hadn't had one in a while, since drinking and scening don't tend to mix well. It's important to keep one's wits about them and alcohol thins the blood which can cause a bad reaction in heavier play. Since it would take some time to select a new Dom, I had some time to kill and could afford a buzz.

After I'd left the corporate apartment Sir and I used as a love nest, I decided to take a walk to work out some of my frustrations. Somehow, I'd ended up standing right outside The Pink Door, which I'd heard was a fairly popular watering hole. Though it seemed quite crowded, I decided to try my luck at the bar since I was alone. There were a few empty seats, so I chose the seat closest to the bartender. If I was going to get drunk, I wanted to be able to get his attention as quick as possible.

Intent on my drink, I barely noticed the Ivy Leaguer who sidled up next to me until he spoke to me in a gentle voice. "Why is a pretty lady like you sitting alone, crying into her drink?"

I was crying? I hadn't noticed. I touched my fingers to my face to find my cheeks wet with tears. He offered me a handkerchief he pulled from the pocket of his blue blazer. Guess I'd been feeling a lot more maudlin than I'd thought.

"Thank you," I replied brokenly as I used his handkerchief to lightly dab my face so I wouldn't end up blotchy on top of everything else. As I made to hand his soiled handkerchief back to him, his hands covered mine, and he told me to keep it. Damn. Even with a $50,000 check practically burning a hole in my bag, his was the most generous offer of the night.

He looked young, but not so young that I'd worry about being arrested, perhaps twenty or twenty-one, and very blond with penetrating green eyes. A lovely combination with his hands, warm and strong, still resting on mine. Between the smell of wax, ambient lighting and his hand on mine, I could almost pretend we were a pair of up-and-comers on a first date, and tonight I wanted to be anyone else other than Leila Williams, recently discarded submissive.

"Would you like to come back to my place?" he asked, drinking me in with his eyes. There it was: desire. I had wondered, since he was being so kind, if this was a pickup. "We could just talk. No pressure."

"Well, you do already have my hand in yours. You could just toss me over your shoulder and be done," I purred seductively.

"Well, I could, but that wouldn't be quite civilized, now would it? Besides, I thought I'd at least offer you the illusion of a fighting chance" he murmured, blushing. So delicious. I didn't realize men could still blush in this day and age. I suddenly felt better as I took control of the situation. It wasn't a normal thing for me, but I could do so in a pinch. At this rate, he'd be trying to seduce the wooed all evening and he definitely deserved a nice reward for lifting my spirits. Hmm, first things first though.

"Do I at least get to know the name of my abductor?" I acquiesced with a slow smirk.

"Ethan. Yours?"

"Call me Lee."

The next morning, after a surprisingly wild night in his hotel suite, I left him in his bed, breathing quietly and sleeping like the dead. I had a date with Mistress.

Rushing back to my apartment, I had time to take another shower with my own bodywash and shampoo and condition my hair. I put my hair into a sleek chignon after blow-drying it. After applying some light makeup, I slipped on a pair of white silk panties, a balconette bra and thigh high pantyhose with a garter belt. I wore a very conservative two-piece skirt suit in robin egg blue with a lace-trimmed white blouse, finishing the look off with a pair of three-inch heels and a white clutch. For some reason, Mistress liked for all the subs she sponsored to dress like executives. Anything less was considered slovenly.

I made my way directly to Mrs. Lincoln's office. I didn't even stop at the reception desk, as I was expected. I sat outside her office until she finally opened her office door saying. "Ah! Right on time. Love that suit."

Giving me an appreciative once-over, she asked me to turn around. "Come in. Don't just stand there. So, I'm to understand that you've ended your contract with your previous Dom?" she asked pleasantly. I was surprised she sounded so upbeat since I'd expected her to be pissed, at least on my behalf, but she was giving me an almost Cheshire-cat grin instead of her usually impassive expression.

"Yes," I replied neutrally, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, I have some good news and very good news for you. First, your contract couldn't have ended at a better time. That man did not deserve your submission. I think you and I discussed the ramifications of choosing a gentleman so new to the scene, didn't we?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I replied tightly. What I recall her telling me was that he was new, but highly motivated. While she had explained that he was married, she'd never intimated that he was playing a game of peek-a-boo with his highly suspicious wife, and that any arrangement could end at the drop of a hat, or discovery.

"Well, the very good piece of news is that I've found you a positively fabulous replacement. You will be thanking both me and your lucky stars once you meet him," she crowed confidently. "So, we'll need something extra. I'll need you to sign this contract and look over a preliminary contract, subject to your limits."

The first document was a nondisclosure agreement. While it was quite in-depth, it was not especially egregious, so I quickly signed and initialed every place with a sticky tab. The BDSM contract was very liberal considering some of the contracts I'd signed off on in the past. Looking at Mistress, I began to wonder if I was missing something as I caught a suspicious glint in her eye.

"Well, Ms. Williams," she drawled, turning around her monitor for me to have a look. "I think it's about time you met your prospective Dominant, don't you?"

Fuck. Me. The man in the photo was Christian Grey!