A Submissives Tale

[NW****]

I knock on the door, three taps in quick succession as always and I wait, the seconds stretching like hours, my nervousness vying for dominance with my excitement.

“Come.” the voice of the Mistress comes. Calm. Authoritative. Commanding. I enter and move to stand in my expected place, my hands behind my back, my head bowed, my eyes downcast. Again I wait, the silence stretching seemingly endlessly until it is broken by a single, sharp command.

“Strip.” I take off my shoes first, placing them neatly beside me, then my top, as I pull it over my head I risk the quickest of glances at my Mistress, resplendent on her chair in black leather and high boots, a dark Goddess come to earth. It was only the briefest of looks, barely perceptible yet something tells me she noticed and I feel my stomach lurch. I fold my top, placing it next to my shoes and remove my trousers, I hesitate before removing my briefs, still a little self conscious about my own nudity and the powerlessness that comes with it.

“Naked.” Comes the command, and I remove my underwear, and fold it neatly before standing before her. She waits again, inspecting me in the agonisingly perfect silence, before giving her next command.

“Kneel and approach me.” I fall to my knees, crawl across the floor to her and kiss each of her booted feet in turn, the smooth, cool leather delicious on my dry, nervous lips. I wait again, my Mistress knows well how to use silence, until I feel the tip of her crop under my chin, forcing my head up. “Did I catch you looking at me earlier?” she asks, a look somewhere between irritation and amusement playing across her face.

“Yes Mistress.” I barely manage to whisper.

“I didn’t hear you.” She replies, the irritation much more pronounced this time.

“Yes Mistress.” I stammer, I am about to add ‘sorry Mistress’ when the gloved hand slaps me across the face. Not a hard slap intended to hurt, but a sharp tap to teach me my place, and show me exactly who is in control.

“I expect my submissives to learn my rules. Don't make me remind you again.”

“No Mistress, Sorry Mistress.” I somehow manage from my parched throat.

“I do hate dust,” the Mistress says running a long finger over the arm of her chair, “so you are going to dust this room from top to bottom.” I take the duster and move to begin my task. “Wait. You must be properly dressed for the job.” She hands me a pinafore, pink with a lace edging and I put it on, “Perfect. Now make sure it’s perfect.”

I begin my task, taking the greatest of care, moving from shelves to the mantlepiece, trying to get every last speck, the sudden, sharp blow from the crop coming as a shock.

“Not nearly good enough.” The Mistress tells me, the gentle hand soothingly stroking the mark that follows surprises me more. “Perhaps you need a different kind of motivation?” I work, my Mistress stroking my back and buttocks, my breath deep as I fight my own arousal, struggle to keep my concentration. I fail and the bulge beneath my pinny clear to see. My Mistress says nothing, but i feel her breath, warm on the back of my neck. It does nothing for my concentration! I finish and kneel to await judgement.

“Stand and strip.” I do as i am ordered and feel a blindfold placed over my eyes, I feel my Mistresses hands gently teasing my nipples, my knockout spot. I gasp and feel my legs buckle , Her hand strokes down my body, lightly teasing my penis, rubbing it back and forth, my breath comes in short, ragged gasps. I am close and she knows it. “Are you ready for your reward?” she purrs in my ear.

I nod,” Please Mistress, yes please Mistress.” I gasp, barely able to get the words out. I am so close now and I hear my Mistress giggle, a more perfectly seductive sound I cannot imagine. Then she stops and I feel her step away.

“If you think that was anywhere near good enough to b allowed relief you really are useless. Now put your clothes on and get out.” I fumble my blindfold off, dress and leave. I drive home struggling with my arousal and burning shame at displeasing her. I get out of the car when I receive a text. It is from the Mistress;

“I need a personal slave for a party. You will attend me at 9PM prompt on Saturday. Do not be late.” My heart leaps with joy.