How Liee Became Mistress Ginger

In the Morning

Su Lin's eyes blinked open with a start, but she froze, fearing to move. Against her small behind she felt the soft warm pressure of larger buttocks. Hearing Mistress Ginger's slow breathing, she felt protected, but was disappointed that after Mistress had come to her room and asked her to share her bed, they had just gone to sleep in each others arms. Then she remembered that she had been told to release Mike at dawn. Wondering if she had overslept, she slipped slowly from under the duvet, tiptoed out the bedroom door, and walked down the hall to her room.

Hearing the sleet blowing against the windows, she looked out and judged that it was at least a half hour past dawn. She decided, however, to take time to dress. After showering, she turned to a mirror. The reflection showed her to be slim and short with tightly corded muscles, still having the gymnast's body of six years before. Moving closer she examined the black irises of her almond-shaped eyes and raised her hand to smooth the boy-like cut of her silken hair. Quickly putting on a black bra, she stepped into and set plain white cotton briefs on her hips. A garter belt followed, to which she drew up a pair of white stockings, Finally she pulled on a thin white blouse that she tucked into a short pleated black skirt and put on her black velvet slippers.

Moving silently to the back stairs, she descended, stopping just above the first floor, where she pressed a panel and stepped onto a spiral stair, about which she circled to a short hall that led to a door. As she stood quietly, she sorted her emotions, for she knew what lay beyond. Given that the session had lasted several hours, she was both jealous of the attention given to Mike, but also empathetic to the pain that had been endured and undoubtedly still continued. She took down a key that hung from a hook, unlocked, and slowly pushed the door open.

She caught Mike's gaze in the mirror on the far wall as he raised his head. Soundless steps on the padded floor carried her to a cabinet, fridge and sink from which she removed some articles, filled a pan with water and moved to him.

A wave of relief swept over Mike and his eyes began to tear as Su Lin approached and he heard her calming voice. Knowing that his mouth was parched , she tilted his head back and brought a bottle of ice-cold water to his lips, followed by several pills that she explained were for the pain and swelling.

As Mike continued to sip, the force of will that had resisted the pain after awakening collapsed. Just as he had given himself completely to Mistress's power last night, so now he placed himself in Su Lin's hands as he shivered with emotion. She moved behind the cross and gently lifted the weights and untied the twine from his nipple rings. Then she unsnapped the parachute, freeing his balls. He moaned as the changes initially brought more pain than relief. She gently touched his cheek and whispered:

"Mike, I'm going to help with the pain, but first let's remove the hood."

She grasped a control unit that hung from the ceiling and reclined the cross to horizontal and switched on a floor fan. As she fumbled with the hood's buckles, Mike became aware again of its smell of leather and sweat, but when it lifted from his head, the sense of freedom was instantaneous, made more delicious by the cooling breeze and the bottle of water that Su Lin poured over his head.

She wiped him with a soft cloth, accepting the gratitude from his eyes, while studying his slightly lined face with its close grey beard. Laying a damp cloth across his eyes that shielded them from the lights, she ran her nails over his closely cropped dome. Moving to release his restraints, she then washed and massaged his hands and feet. Deep pressure and kneading brought them to life, finishing with gentle pulls on each toe and finger.

"Thanks, Su Lin," Mike said, " your touch works miracles!"

"Let's see what I can do for the pain and bruising," Su Lin replied.

She passed her hands just above his skin, feeling its heat in her palms, while studying its surface. Under the welts and bruises, she noted the prominent pink scar that ran down the center of his chest, which was crossed by fainter scars on his chest and stomach. She knew that these were also found on his back, buttocks, and thighs, the results of canings, much more severe than what probably happened last night.

There were no wounds to tend, so she wiped his body with a moistened cloth and gently applied analgesic salve. The bruises would make movement painful for a couple of days, but time and aspirin were the cure. Su Lin helped Mike sit up and ease off the cross, slip into a white terrycloth robe, and then she exited the chamber after lightly touching his cheek. Mike sat on the cross for a few minutes, thinking about and gathering himself for the coming week.

I straddled the machine and lowered my butt into the seat. Sliding forward to put my feet in its restraints, I just moved the seat back and forth on the glides as I thought about how I loved the repetitive movement of rowing. It taught you to accept pain and enter a zone where physical and psychological limits were forgotten. God, it had done that for me, after I had left the taunts at the lower school in Dokkum behind. Before, it had been "Rosie the Milk Maid!" over and over.

I would run home in tears and ask mom and dad why the teachers didn't make them call me Lieke, after all, that was my name when they took attendance. My parents would tell me that my red hair was beautiful, there was nothing wrong with living on a dairy farm, and the other kids would soon shoot up in height, things I just couldn't hear at the time. Loving their only child, they were also protective and strict. So, when a rowing coach spotted me and thought he could make "Rosie the Giant Clown" into something, I was more than happy to escape the name-calling and my parent's high standards and demands.

I now know that I didn't leave it all behind, it continues to both fuel and plague me. But it helped me perform well enough at the sport high school in Groningen for me to train and eventually gain a seat in the Dutch women's boat that won silver at the Beijing Olympics. It also help me achieve high honors in economics when I graduated from the University of Utrecht.

I reflected about all this as I programed the workout, but as I began and the seqence of explosion and release grew quicker, all was wiped from my mind except the determination to meet the goal that I had set for this morning. Now, having finished and with my upper body collapsed on my knees, my breath coming in gasps, and sweat soaking my tights and halter, I felt the pressure of a gaze on my back and suddenly realized that I had probably anticipated, perhaps even staged myself for Mike's eyes when he came up from the chamber.

Not bothering to look around, I just said:

"Mike are you OK?"

The question shocked him, since he thought that I hadn't sensed his presence, so he stammered:

"Uh, yeah, sore, but Su Lin helped. I'm going to shower and will see you downstairs for breakfast."

Continuing to his bedroom, Mike realized the similarity of his emotional responses to Lieke last night and this morning. The sight of her muscles and mind at work on the rowing machine was mesmerizing. Continually bunching and extending, her long body was a well-tuned engine that elicited awe, while the tangle of fiery red hair caught behind her head made his heart drop in his chest, a somewhat wary love.

In his bedroom, Mike removed the robe and examined his body. The bruises were spreading and worsening, but his body was still pretty fit. He had the thickness of a hockey defenseman, an identity reinforced by facial scars, the products of fights on the ice at Albany High School and Boston College.

Although his physique had lost some definition, the first impression of him, particularly when dressed in his tailored Italian suits, was one of power, a solid, but elegant block of a man. However, stripped naked with his hairless white zone and his imprisoned penis, he was diminished. Stepping closer to the mirror, as he looked at the bold scar where his chest had been cracked, a sense of vulnerability surfaced.

He suppressed it, however, for there were things to be done. He quickly showered, put on a charcoal Bardelli , picked up the valise that he had packed the previous day, and moved down the hall toward the stairs, As he passed the exercise room he saw that Lieke was now lifting weighs and as she cleaned the bar he saw the tattoo usually hidden under her upper left arm.

I was tired, but euphoric from the workout and stripped off my tights and top on the way to my room. Like many Dutch women, I am tall with a big frame -- 6'1" and 180 pounds. Stepping before the mirror on the back of the bathroom door, I raised my left arm and examined the tattooed dark red rectangle that ran down from my arm pit. The block letters of the reserved white skin inside spelled STERKTE. Similar bar tattoos were located on the insides of my upper left and lower right thighs, the reserved letters spelling -- TEMPO and KNECHTEN -- for anyone kneeling between my legs.

I had gotten these just a year ago at a crucial stage of my life with Mike. Their symbolism was well-considered, expressive of my life before and after January 4, 2012, the night of Mike's heart attack. As I looked at my reflection, I considered other ways my naked body had changed. The tuft of red hair under my arm and the tangle below my belly was a return to a state before I had known Mike, while the little jade balls that capped the ends of the bars through my nipples and nestled above my left nostril and rode the ring against my clit were, like the tattoos, products of my changed relationship with Mike. As I drew a warm bath and sank into it, I continued to think about that past.

I had met Mike Delos while working as an intern at his investment banking firm in Boston when I was a law student. I had first seen him from afar as he walked through the cubicles reserved for assistants and interns to his corner office. He was handsome and projected an aura of quiet power, qualities that drew me, although I had never been involved with an older man.

In fact, my sexual experiences had been pretty limited and conventional, so focused had I been on rowing and my studies. Perhaps, it was also because my family belonged to a small Dutch Reformed church that I remained unconnected to the extreme liberalism in the Netherlands. Probably the past experience that first really exposed me to that was a situation that I had witnessed between Anike and Marysa, the coxswain and stroke of our Olympic boat.

Anike was a very hyper and small girl with short black hair, who was openly gay, while Marysa was my size with long blond hair that was usually in a ponytail. The other girls continually teased Anika about her numerous conquests and asked why she didn't try for them. One evening I had stayed after practice to take a sauna and must have dozed off, because when I came out all of the lights were off. Passing the door to the treatment room, I heard moans and whispers.

Edging to the open door, I peeked in and saw Marysa reclined on a padded table, dress pulled up, with Anika's face between her legs. My own legs went weak and I crouched down, continuing to stare. Anike's quiet, but excited comments about how she was going to make Marysa cum excited me so much that I immediately began to finger myself. Marysa was already moaning and writhing, when Anika rose and extended her left hand to push down on Marysa's mound, while her right didn't seem to be moving below. It must have been, however, because suddenly there was a low keening from Marysa. It continued to build until Anika began a hard rapid thrusting with her right hand.

I responded as Marysa's vocalization became shriller, turning into repeated explosive gasps. We came simultaneously, but, while Marysa's back arched up into a vibrating bow as she screamed and screamed, I had to mute my orgasm and quickly slinked off to hide until the two girls left. While I went on to have sex with boyfriends at the university, I never had orgasms with them like I had by myself -- late at night, with candles and incense, uncensored responses to my memory of Marysa's desperate howling.

During my university years I gained a limited awareness of the power that my size and beauty seemed to have on both women and men, but I never felt comfortable with it or understood how it might be used. As I continued to see Mike at work, I came to feel that he had that understanding of power that I lacked. I also sensed that he was becoming aware of me. When there was a meeting about a group project that involved me, he seemed to purposefully address most questions to me.

Afterwards, at lunch, two female colleagues teased me about it and told me that I should know that Mike had recently been divorced by his wife. This excited me because I wanted to learn from that self-assurance that seemed so in control of any situation. As it turned out, he took the lead. During a company party at a country club, he invited me onto the terrace where we sat for an hour talking and laughing. Having discovered that we had both been athletes, he invited me to a Bruins match and, when that went well, a symphony and a gala charity ball. Dinners and nightcaps preceded and followed each date, all thoroughly enjoyable as we felt each other out. There was certainly a rising sexual tension, but we did not voice our feelings, content to just grow as friends.

I had lots of questions about Mike's career and how he had built his business, while he quizzed me about my studies and how I had decided to come to Boston. Gradually what we shared grew more personal. I learned that Mike, raised as a conservative Catholic, had married when Connie, his girlfriend, became pregnant during college. While he studied for his MBA and began his career in finance, she stayed at home and raised their two children, a boy and girl, who were now in college.

He related how their lives became very comfortable, particularly after his firm became successful, which enabled them to have an expensive apartment in Boston and several vacation homes. However, over the past ten years, they had grown apart, leading Connie to ask for a separation, followed by a divorce that he had not contested. I did not probe further about exactly what led to the divorce.

At lunch one day, I began to reveal the insecurities of my childhood and how rowing and academics, as areas of proven success, had grown over time into refuges from risktaking or exploring deeper aspects of myself, particularly with regard to relationships and sexuality. He suddenly leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, looked deeply into my eyes and said:

"Lieke, your beauty stunned me when I saw you for the first time, but right now I want you so much. What you just told me makes me see that your vulnerability is what really attracts me, maybe because I feel it inside me as well. I could never put your incredible physical presence together with your shy and hesitant manner. Can we just get out of here?"

I could hardly breathe and averted my eyes from his intensity. I could feel myself flush and stumbling for words, I banged my knees of the table as I rose quickly and blurted:

"I been aching for you to ask me, let's go!"

My studio apartment was on the sixth floor of a building just two blocks from the restaurant. But the walk through the noon-hour foot traffic seemed to take forever as we hurried, holding hands, but so tense that we did not talk or even look at each other. Once on the elevator, however, Mike took my head in both hands and pulled me to his mouth, a hard kiss at first, but then, while the car rose, just running his tongue around my lips as we enjoyed the sensation with closed eyes

I broke away as soon as the elevator opened and rushed to my door, fumbling in my purse for the keys while he rubbed my shoulders. Stepping inside, I closed the door and pushed him back against it, dropped to my knees and began to nuzzle the hard penis that was tenting his pants. He leaned back and groaned as I nipped at it before unzipping and teasing it out. Gripping his balls through his trousers, I kissed its swollen head several times as my eyes moved between it and his face that was looking down at me. His penis was thick, much more so than any I had seen. Not particularly long, but so swollen and veined. Holding his gaze, I licked up its length and darted my tongue at the opening, causing his eyes to break away as his head fell back.

As I took it in my mouth and began to suck, his fingers twisted in my hair and began to move with me as I picked up speed, until he groaned and pulled me free and stepped over to a kitchen chair. He pulled me close and pressed his head forward against my body, while I raised my skirt and pushed my panties to the side as I lowered myself onto his prick. As it entered me I felt incredibly stretched, but was so wet there was no problem, just a fullness as we sat, eyes studying each other, him carrying all my weight and buried so deeply inside me. When I began to rise up and slide on him, he stopped me, pulling down on my shoulders and just beginning to slowly rock us back and forth. The movement was slight, but very sweet and sensual as we pressed our heads to each other. We approached point of no return closely several times, before we came together.

Afterward, we shared my tight shower, then sprawled on my futon and sipped from a bottle of cognac. We lay side by side, reversed with our shoulders propped up by pillows so that we could study each other as our hands trailed about. Avoiding what had just happened, our conversation rambled for a couple of hours. Mike's body was thick, like his prick, but, even near 50, still fairly defined. He probably weighed about 220, since he was about my height. Body hair was abundant, all grey; but his most attractive feature were his penetrating gray eyes, a bit sunken under heavy brows, all framed by closely cropped grey hair and beard. I knew that I was going to love the feel of that soft burr when his head lay in my lap, and the eyes -- a bit cruel, but also a bit hurt!!

Since we had not eaten anything before leaving the restaurant, I called to have a pizza delivered and we moved to the table and started drinking wine. We continued to banter as we slouched on our chairs, Mike still naked and me in a robe that I had put on to get the pizza at the door. We had eaten all but one slice and finished the wine, when I rose to get another bottle.

Mike reached for the last slice and I teased him about not asking permission and having bad manners for sitting naked at someone's table. He pulled me to his lap and said somebody needed a spanking. At that instant the room's electric charge changed, as warm pink light filled the space from the west-facing window. All became quiet as I lay across his legs and stopped giggling. He just rubbed my ass through the terrycloth; then, when I felt the robe pulled up, I tensed and grabbed his ankle with a hand. POP! A hand slap made me instantly wet, then sopping, as the blows rained down until I yelled:

"I'm going to cum, fuck me hard!!"

Mike pushed me face down onto the futon, lifted my hips and rammed inside. He grabbed the side of my hips to slam me back to meet his thrusts, but then he reached below and twisted my nipples, which I barely felt, because I was being overtaken by a raging orgasm. My consciousness dimmed as the tip of his penis that was battering the upper wall of my vagina sent me into oblivion.

He continued to pump, as the spasms racked me, then withdrew and slathered the fluid that I had gushed up my crack and forced his way into my anus. God, it was like alcohol spilled on a wound and set afire, but then the whole dark feeling of it set my mind aflame and I rapidly rubbed my clit, causing me to cum again as Mike collapsed, spent, on my back. He just remained sprawled on top of me; fluids leaking from both of my orifices, our sweat and gasps mingling. Mike finally rolled off and, staring up at the ceiling, blurted: