I wasn't rushing, but I was conscious of my progress. It was after 9 p.m. and the streets were sparse, both of vehicles and people. Thick clouds had hung down low over the city since noon yesterday and tonight they were weeping their moisture in a continual downpour. The miserable late autumn weather was keeping most of the population indoors and the shows and restaurants I passed looked unusually vacant and quiet.
Not a warm picture in any one's mind, yet not near enough to get in the way of my plans for this evening. As I trudged along the sidewalk soaking wet, through the bleak dull darkness of this November night, I was buoyed by a pending event of human activity that was almost in my grasp. I was on that proverbial mission we all nurture deep inside and my goal tonight was resolute.
As I pressed further into the depth of the city towards my ultimate destination, the rain gushed forth at times, in a series of heavy downpours. I was thankful that it wasn't snow or sleet. At one point, I had to duck for cover under a cloth awning as sheets of rain fell like thick curtains of cloth.
I paused at a major intersection and stood patiently waiting for the traffic light to change to green. A billboard high atop an office building six or seven blocks over, announced the arrival of a new millennia quartz wrist watch to a chain of a nationally recognized jewellery stores. It was effective advertising campaign because I immediately checked my own watch against the time on the sign.
I'm glad I did. I was running late! No time now to consider buying a new watch, that's for sure. I had to pick up my pace.
Dispensing with usual caution, I crossed the street against the red light. I don't often rebel against civil authority but I had my orders for this evening and I wasn't about to disobey them, jay-walking ticket or not.
A couple of cars whizzed by just as I made it to the other side. Their tires sang as they sluiced through the thick layer of water that covered the pavement. Once on the south side of the street, I resumed my course and hustled along to make up the time already lost.
Up ahead, in the embrace of a glassed-in transit shelter, one solitary soul stood huddled against the storm. I had seen few others this evening so I stole a glance at the person as I passed. She was a young woman and appeared to be just as drenched as me. She was shivering in spurts and starts. Poor dear I mused and then thought that I too might be in a similar situation later on in the evening.
I stove my hands deep into my pockets and brushed away some loose strands of hair that hung dangling across my brow. The saturated strands swayed back and forth across my line of sight like wiper blades on a car.
I chose to cut across a vacant lot where an enormous developer's sign indicated a gigantic building complex sometime in the near future. The earth had been dug up and was uneven. I mumbled in guttural terms as I dodged one puddle only to slip ankle deep into another.
People who knew me would say I was crazy to be out on a night like this. But, what did they really know about me and my motivation? Could they possibly understand the value of the reward that I was looking for tonight? I don't think so. My small circle of friends has no idea what this all means to me or why I would expose myself to the foul elements a damp winter's rain storm in search of it. Yet I wouldn't have been able to explain the why and where for to them, even had I wanted to.
I checked my watch again. Punctuality is a virtue with me. And when it comes to being on time, I have always carried out my side of the agreement to the very 'letter'. After all, punctuality is one of the fundamental building blocks of obedience. Obeying orders and commands as instantaneously as they are spoke, is also one of the ways in which I show respect to Mistress Deirdre.
Mistress Deirdre is my 'Master'. I am her slave. I have been serving her for almost 15 years. She works more slaves than just me and as a guess I would say that there may be up to twenty-five other men just like me under her control. None of us really knows the other and I only found out of their existence by accident one afternoon to which I suffered a severe disciplining from Mistress.
Over the years I have been very diligent to earn Mistress's favour at every opportunity. Little wonder that nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, is allowed to get in my way from achieving all that is expected of me and everything that Mistress wants, needs, and/or demands. And tonight, Mistress wants me to be in her presence at 9 p.m. sharp!
I quickened my pace once again, energized by the power over which Mistress Deirdre controls and manipulates me.
***********
No act or occurrence is ever carried out or conducted by Mistress Deidre that hasn't already been planned out well in advance. She is a meticulous matron and a perfectionist; a virtual role model for other women who may be curious as to how it feels to completely dominate a man.
From my close association with her over the years, I have come to understand that Mistress Deirdre's recipe for success is to become thoroughly acquainted with the traits and characteristics of each of her aspiring male clients. Then, with discreet tact and aplomb, she incorporates what she learns of their behaviours and traits, into the regimen of their training. Her goal has always been to accentuate the performance skills of all of her male slaves to the very peak of perfection. I have to point out here, that her expectations are high and Mistress Deirdre suffers no fools.
According to Mistress Deirdre, the best of men, even those who have been successfully trained as male slaves to expertly service and cater to dominant women are, by there very nature, inherently clumsy, inarticulate, and to a large degree, lazy.
There is no intimacy shared between her and any of her stable of men but there is a Grand Canyon depth of understanding that exists between Mistress and her 'charges'. I suppose that is the true secret of Mistress Deidre's triumph over submissive men and why she is superior amongst equals. However, for a man to be allowed to obey the obdurate demands of her dominant nature, the path is not an easy one to follow. She depends on a very high turn over and pushes every male who yearns to service her, to his very limits.
Like all those before me, I began at the lowly level of 'John'. A 'John' is an apprentice who is placed on one month's probation. Like all the others, I was levied a substantial monetary token in exchange for the privilege of doing nothing more than removing Mistress's daily garbage and sweeping out her condo parking space once a week. If, after a few weeks of completing these tasks in an exemplary fashion, a 'John' may be further permitted to clean and sanitize Mistress's toilets, tubs, and shower stalls for the remaining two weeks of his initial servitude.
A 'John' is never allowed to deal directly with the Mistress. His only contact is an envelope clipped to the wall of her parking space. His orders are contained inside. That's his only contact. When he is finished his work, he is expected to quietly leave Mistress's premises. He pays for this solitary privilege, every week.
If a 'John' successfully endures the isolation and humiliation related to carrying out these types of demeaning tasks he may be eligible to be elevated to the next level of subservience; that of Mistress's boot licker. A submissive male has absolutely no say in the matters regarding the possibility of promotion, he is simply chosen by the Mistress to advance, or he is left at his current entry level, or he is dismissed.
Deadwood duds do not fair well in Mistress Deidre's world of Feminine Domination. They are simply not tolerated. Obey, submit, and be quiet. . .or be banished!
In the elevated position of 'Boot Licker', the monetary token required of the successful male is doubled. However, his responsibilities are increased and he is actually allowed to be in the presence of the Mistress; briefly mind you, but nonetheless a plum of a privilege for aspiring submissive males.
As for the duties, they consist of ensuring the cleanliness of all of Mistress's foot ware. For the task, the 'boot licker' is only provided with a roll of toilet tissue paper. One roll, no more, which must last him for 60 days. The only other cleaning tool at his disposal of course, is his tongue.
If, after a period of 60 days, a 'Boot Licker' maintains his desire to prove his worth even more by serving the Mistress in higher levels of task oriented and degrading labour, it is then possible for him to be selected for promotion once again.
The next level that a male in training can rise to would be that of Mistress's panty attendant. Again, there is an increase in the cost of this promotion and the aspiring male slave is cautioned that the standard value of a mere token must give way to the much higher value of that represented by a Tribute.
At this juncture in his training there is a change in objectivity. As a Panty Attendant, the completion of his tasks is far less important to his future promotions then that of his mannerisms of obedience and urgency of his reaction to Mistress's every command. However, the challenge for the male is that there is no distinction between Mistress's commands that are spoken, which are easy to recognize and carry out, and those that manifest themselves as subtle commands, perhaps no more defined than being merely implied by body language, circumstance, or social common sense. Regardless, the male must read and interpret the signs correctly and react according. Throughout it all, he must be prudent enough not to pre-empt or anticipated any order or command.
Every one of a Panty Attendant's responses and reactions is duly noted and graded. Failure on the male's part to achieve an overall grade of "A" which is equal to allowing for only 'one' mistake per day over a 14 day period, will lead to his abrupt discharge from the premises and total prohibition from any further service to the Mistress.
