CROSSING THE THRESHOLD
Alan was up early. He hadn't slept well, a mixture of excitement and concern had caused him to experience a restless night. He was glad he had sent his account of his first sexual experience to her yet was concerned she may feel it disgusting. He checked his laptop for messages every few minutes until finally at just after 8.00am he received the notification he had been waiting for.
With trembling fingers he opened her email:
"Slut, that is the name I will address you by now, for that is what you are My Slut. I enjoyed reading your account of your first sexual experience. Perhaps that early introduction into being helpless and under the control of girls is the reason you have had this long held but dormant desire to be under the control and direction of a Mistress. It doesn't really matter though, you have made your choice and there is no turning back. I know that and you know that too. You have begun an irreversible journey of submission and obedience, of service and worship, of being under your Mistresses' heel.
I require you to construct some reason as to why you need to be away from your wife on Monday during the day. You will present yourself at my house in Putney at midday. Don't be late Slut, tardiness is unacceptable and will be punished. I will be keeping you till 4pm. Think of it as your initiation into servitude, the point where you step across the line from dreaming and fantasising about submission to experiencing the reality of it."
There was an address in Putney, typed beneath the message.
Monday arrived and Alan left his house at 10.30 am having told his wife that a former colleague who had retired around the same time as himself was recovering from a serious illness and his partner had asked Alan if he would pay him a visit as it would cheer him up to see an old friend.
He had given himself plenty of time to cross London from East to West and found himself at the corner of Langton Walk and Milliner Street, a good half hour early. He walked around the block twice, passing her front door on both occasions, casting a glance at her front door each time he did. He stood at her door, five minutes early, unsure whether to use the knocker or to wait another few minutes or to run away. He steadied himself, there really was no going back, Mistress was right, his submission to her inevitable. He used the knocker, rapping twice on the door then waited.
He stood there waiting for over three minutes and just as he wondered if he should knock again the door opened. Mistress stood there in black trousers which ended just below the knee, a white semi-fitted blouse and the shoes he had seen her purchase in the boutique.
"I have been watching you Slut, going past my door several times, standing where you are now, deciding if you should knock or run away like a frightened schoolboy. A man your age frightened of what he wants most, quite pathetic really, but amusing nonetheless. Come in Slut, time to step across the threshold and enter a new reality."
He followed behind her and was immediately impressed with the size and quality of her home. An understanding of style, understated quality, simple but elegant furnishings. She guided him into a small box room adjoining the hallway.
"This is the first room you will enter whenever I decide you will visit me. It is a slut's dressing room. You will find the outfit I wish you to wear hanging up and any associated accessories here, on this tray. You will remove your outdoor clothes and replace them with the outfit I have provided. You will remove all jewellery, watches, rings etc. Then you will wait here till I summon you. Do you understand?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Good, then change. I will summon you when I am ready."
With this she swivelled, ballet like, on one heel and left him.
He removed his clothes placing them neatly over the hard backed chair, stripping to his boxers. There was a pair of khaki chinos and a blue polo shirt each with a logo saying SLUT embroidered on them. He put them on, surprised that they fitted so well, and slipped his bare feet into the deck shoes that had been provided. As he waited he studied the silver tray and the items placed on it. There was a silver collar, embossed with the word SLUT, a pair of silver handcuffs, a blindfold thing like you use on aeroplanes to block out the light and a number of short black ropes that looked as though they were made of silk.
It was several minutes before he heard Mistresses voice:
"Come through now and bring the tray Slut."
He picked up the tray and following where the sound of her voice had originated, he walked into a spacious lounge area. His Mistress was sitting on a plain sofa with one knee placed over the other, one delicious heel on the floor the other raised in the air slightly.
"Not too bad Slut, though I say it myself I judged your size pretty well and you actually look half decent for a pathetic old man. Now let's see you deliver the tray to me."
He hesitated, then head bowed and back bent he walked slowly over to where she sat.
"Now kneel. Good boy, extend your arms and keep the tray level."
In doing so his eyes remained glued to her feet, the heels of her new shoes excited him, stylish, powerful and he detected the faintest scent of new leather.
She took the tray from him and placed it beside her on the sofa, placed a finger under his chin and raised his head.
