Miss Rose Cold Case

From Natalie: This is the second Miss Rose story. The first one about Alex and Miss Rise was Advanced Studies. Enjoy!

*****

It had been over six months since Alex finished my class. He was a brilliant young man and I was sorry to see him go. On the last day of class, when everyone else had gone - heading to the campus pub to celebrate the end of the semester, no doubt - Alex gave me a kiss on the cheek with a charming blush and thanked me for all I had taught him. He promised to keep in touch.

And he did. Last night, Alex called me.

I was sitting back on my leather sofa, enjoying a glass of ruby-colored wine before bed. Outside, the sky was dark and the maple trees in the backyard danced in the cold winter wind. Pewter clouds traced wispy patterns over the silver disc of the moon. It was the end of another semester at the university, a time always full of relief and a pang of sadness at watching another group of students depart. Some of them I would never see again. Others might return to try for a passing grade, or a more advanced course. Or...

The phone rang and I picked it up.

"Good evening," I answered.

"Miss Rose?"

I recognized Alex's voice at once. It sent a sharp thrill through my body. I set down my glass and ran my fingers over my short satin robe. It was the same color as the wine. The smooth cloth slithered over my skin.

"Alex. How are you?"

"I'm... well, good. Mostly." Alex cleared his throat. A brilliant boy, but still nervous as ever. "I've got an internship with the city police this semester. I'm working with a couple of the detectives."

I wasn't surprised, but I was pleased. Alex's sharp and agile mind was perfect for detective work. "You will be well suited to it. But I'm a psychology professor; you didn't call me for a pat on the back."

"No, Miss Rose. I'm just support for the case. Mostly just research and paperwork... nothing terribly important."

Always humble. Alex was perceptive, and attuned with himself enough to know that he was smart, but shy and humble enough not to know just how smart. Or handsome... I slipped my fingers under my red robe and felt my nipples already hard. My unbound brown hair spilled across the leather couch and I let my head fall back into the cushions. My glasses slipped down my nose a little.

"Miss Rose, I think the detectives I'm working under... I think they're missing something."

"What's that, Alex?" I asked.

"They're looking for a missing man. We've been to his house and found an extensive um..." I swore I could hear Alex blushing. "A bondage dungeon in his attic."

"Many men enjoy dominating their wives and girlfriends."

With one hand, I untied the sash of my robe. I was not one of the women who enjoyed being submissive. I liked power, authority of my own. Like the power that I held over my students, as I once did over Alex. I traced my fingertips down my stomach, and over the warm smoothness of my pussy, which was already wet and excited, as expected. I lightly caressed the hard nub of my clit and wondered if Alex heard the soft intake of my breath.

"We don't think so," said Alex. "It was for a man, not a woman. All of the wear on the straps and cuffs indicate thicker limbs."

"Gay?"

"No, Miss Rose. Not that we know of. The crime scene team lifted his prints off the inside of some pieces of... equipment. And there was a little blood on one of the whips. PCR confirms that it's his."

"So he was the submissive, not the dominator," I said. And liked it enough to have his own dungeon. Good equipment wasn't cheap, and required maintenance.

"The detectives in charge have backgrounds in forensics, not psychology," Alex said, and then hesitated. "I'd like to ask for your help, Miss Rose."

"You want me to help?" I liked the sound of that. I leaned back and caressed the slick heat between my legs, dipping one finger barely inside. Just a light touch, just teasing myself. "What did you have in mind?"

"I have a feeling that the dungeon, that this man's sexuality is somehow related to his disappearance. Can you meet with me tomorrow to... to go over it? I've got some photos and permission to show them to you, if that would help."

"I'd be more than happy to," I said. "Come over to my house tomorrow evening. I'll even make you dinner and we'll talk it over."

"Thank you, Miss Rose."

I gave him my address, said good night and hung up the phone. I closed my eyes and thrust two fingers deeper inside me. My cunt was tight and warm and wet. Dinner with my student to discuss bondage. This was going to be fun... I shivered and gasped as I came.

_____

Alex brought wine. Not an expensive vintage, but not cheap - hard to afford on a college student's part-time job. He had probably just gotten off work, in fact. My student's short, thick black hair was still wet from a hasty shower. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and damp around the collar.

He was nervous as ever. And staring... Alex stood at my front door with his mouth hanging open.

I couldn't blame him. I was wearing my favorite dress. It was nothing like most women's favorite dress. It was clinging vinyl with the color and shine of spilled ink, barely long enough to cover my ass, and corseted around the waist with black leather. My knee-high boots matched and finished the outfit. As always, I had my hair slicked and pulled back, the image of authority and poise. And my glasses, of course - my black-framed lenses that completed the picture of 'teacher.'

I took the wine bottle from Alex's hands before he could drop it.

"Come in," I said invitingly.

"I... uh... Wow. Thank you, Miss Rose."

Always so polite. I smiled and closed the door behind us. Everything was ready in the dining room - a light meal and empty glasses waiting for wine. I poured and invited Alex to sit. He did so and then produced a large yellow envelope.

"I brought some photographs," he said. "If you think they might help."

"Perhaps."

I handed Alex a glass of wine and accepted a dozen large, glossy photograph printouts in return. Sitting down and sipping from my own glass, I thumbed through them. I was familiar with it all, of course. Black leather, crops, ropes and handcuffs. Standard tools of the trade, and high quality ones at that. I gave the photos back to Alex.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"My impressions are good," I answered. I wore a dark, shiny red lipstick. Alex stared at my lips as I spoke, just as intended. "Your man has exotic tastes, but nothing unhealthy. There's no apparent interest in torture or dangerous blood play, which might suggest a deeper neurosis."

Alex smiled, too. He looked relieved. "I sort of thought so too, but I'm glad to have confirmation. I want to find this guy alive and safe."

"What do you know about him?" I swirled my wine in the glass.

"He's the vice president of a local company. I can't tell you his name, of course. He went missing nine days ago. The janitor at his office was the last to see him," Alex told me.

I nodded. Men sometimes built up powerful fronts over more submissive needs. The social need for machismo was strong, even for men who had other tastes.

Alex spoke thoughtfully and carefully, making sure the information he gave me was absolutely accurate. "He came in late one night, visited his office briefly, and left again. His personal calendar suggested that he was supposed to see someone that night. She's in his personal calendar as Miss Black, but that doesn't seem to be a real name and we can't find any contact information. He's supposed to close a major deal for the company the day after tomorrow. The CEO is starting to get pretty nervous."

"Interesting."

"That... that's all?" Alex asked.

"For now."

We ate slowly, conversing more lightly about his new job, about the detectives he worked for. There was still no woman in his life, Alex admitted with a cherry-red blush.

"Between work and school, there just isn't time," he said.

After a small bowl of tangerine sherbet for dessert, Alex asked if I had any more insight into his case. I stood, took his bowl and shook my head.

"No, I don't," I said. "Unlike your missing man, I am the dominant sexual partner, not a submissive one. I can describe his mentality, but I do not feel it. I'm afraid that though I've certainly studied it, I do not truly understand it."

Alex put aside his napkin and nodded. "Of course, Miss Rose. Thank you for dinner and your time."

He started to stand, but I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into his chair.

"But you can understand, Alex," I said.

His dark eyes went wide, and then the blood drained from his face... and rushed elsewhere. I could see the instant swelling of his cock tenting his nice slacks.

"Miss Rose..."

"You want to help, don't you?" I leaned down beside him. Alex stared down into my cleavage, just inches away from his face. "I can show you. Would you like that?"

"Y... yes, Miss Rose," he stammered.

"Then come with me."

I held out my hand to Alex. I could have just grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, but trust was important between a mistress and her toy. Anything less was simply succumbing to psychosis. I neither wanted to do that to Alex, nor did I think it would help him understand his missing man.

Alex hesitated and then finally took my hand. I led him out of the dining room, along a hallway and to another door. When I opened it, Alex saw the stairs leading down.

"Where are we going?" he asked. "Is that your... basement?"

"It is."

Though I had only half answered his questions, Alex followed me down the dim-lit staircase. The light brightened at the bottom and Alex gasped. It was hardly an exact copy of the dungeon in the photographs, but they all bore a certain similarity, a certain stern and close air that reminded a submissive why they so loved to place their pleasure in the capable hands of their master or mistress.

The walls of my basement were finished in black leather pads. They served double duty, both ensuring that my submissives could not hurt themselves - that was my job, after all - and to stifle the noise. There were blunt steel hooks in the beams of the ceiling, and an inclined rack on one wall, made of polished wood and hung with restraints. There was a bed, too, with black satin sheets and ropes coiled at each corner post.

A red-upholstered armchair sat in another corner. Beside it rose a well-stocked rack of equipment, including handcuffs, whips and floggers, rope and blindfolds, vibrators, anal plugs and beads for my female toys, and cock rings for the men.

Alex took a step back, eyes wide. I could see his cock straining against his pants and the sudden sheen of sweat on his forehead. Alex felt my hand against the small of his back and stopped. He swallowed hard.

"Do you have a preferred safe word?" I asked him quietly.

"A... a what?" His voice was thick.

"A word to tell me that I've gone too far and that I need to stop."

"What about 'stop'?"

I smiled. "You may find it hard to resist saying that, but you may not mean it."

"Oh..." Alex stared out at the basement.

"What about 'mahogany'?" I suggested. "Can you remember that?"

"Yeah... yes, I can. Why that word, though?" Alex asked nervously.

I brushed a finger along his jaw. "It's the color of your eyes."

"Oh. Thanks." Alex blushed again. His voice was breathless.

Lamps with red and amber glass glowed around the edge of the room. Alex looked frightened and exotic in the warm light. I had his trust. Now it was time to show him his place. The thought made me drip in anticipation. I went to the rack and selected a black leather collar attached to a short steel chain.

"Come here," I commanded.

Alex looked at me uncertainly. "I'm supposed to... wear that?" he asked nervously. But he approached obediently.

"Yes."

He reached for the collar, but I held it back. I gestured to him.

"Undress," I said. "This will be all you wear for me."

Alex gulped and fumbled to unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers. He folded and set his clothes on the stairs. The boy was flushed and nervous, but knew that he had no secrets from me. Alex made no move to cover himself or turn away. Good. He had the makings of a fine submissive.

Alex's chest was lean and a fine, narrow line of dark hair led down over flat abdominals to where his cock stood out from his body, long and hard.

I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down to his knees. I cinched the black leather around his throat. Tight, but not too much so. I slipped two fingers between his neck and the collar, just to be sure.

"You are my toy, Alex. My slave. I am going to use you," I told him firmly. I ran my hand through his thick black hair. "And you are going to enjoy it very, very much."

"Oh... okay..."

My fingers tightened and I pulled his head back a few inches. I looked into his dark, wide eyes. "'Yes, Miss Rose,'" I told him. "I am your mistress, Alex."

"Yes, Miss Rose."

Still nervous, but without reservation. Alex was not embarrassed to give himself to me. He was excited. I pulled on Alex's chain leash and led him to the chair. I sat down in the red upholstery and instructed my student to kneel.

"I have been waiting for this since last night, since you called me. I've never had a student quite like you, Alex."

"Thank you, Miss Rose." Alex blushed again. His toned chest was flushed, too.

"Lick me," I ordered. "I want your tongue in my slit."

I planted one high-heeled boot on his shoulder and parted my thighs slowly. Alex winced a little as the heel of my stiletto bit into his skin, but there was a sharp intake of breath, too. Pleasure. Alex pushed my skirt a few inches up my thighs and licked his lips nervously. I gave his leash a tug. He jerked forward, face suddenly buried between my legs.

He recovered quickly. Under my dress, I wore nothing at all, nothing to hinder Alex. He kissed my pussy and ran the tip of his tongue from my clitoris, down and back up, then in. Just as I had told him to. I sighed with pleasure and sat back. I picked up a glass of pale wine I had set out hours before on a small, polished side table in hopes of sharing dessert with Alex. I took a sip. It was rich and sweet, a perfect compliment to the hot, wet penetration of my pussy.

Alex licked and sucked at my clit, flicking his tongue over the nub and sending hot, sharp waves of pleasure cresting through my body. He had paid attention in our lessons the previous semester. Alex looked so perfect down there on his knees, worshiping my cunt and lapping up my juices. Alex curled his tongue inside me and I closed my eyes. The sweet sensation peaked and my body squeezed, tightened and dribbled juices across Alex's lips.

He looked surprised and groaned. The boy's cock was flushed almost purple with desire. Alex's beautiful mahogany eyes drifted blissfully shut as he licked me out. His right hand inched toward his dick, already aching and impatient for release. I pulled hard on his chain. Alex's dark eyes flew open.

"What...?" he asked.

"I did not give you permission to touch yourself," I said.

"I... I'm sorry, Miss Rose..."

"You certainly will be. Hand me that," I said, pointing to a short crop with a braided black handle and a stiff paddle of looped leather that sat in the nearby rack of implements.

Alex bit his lip and did as he was told. When he held out the crop, I took it and then yanked sharply on his leash. I pulled Alex over my knee. The boy gave a short, low cry of surprise as I brought the loop of leather down on his ass. Crack!

"You will do nothing that I have not instructed, Alex," I told him sternly. But not angrily. A good mistress is never angry with her toys. Submissives needed discipline, direction and pleasure - not temper - and she loved giving it to them. "You will do only as I say."

Crack!

Alex tensed. There were two welts reddening his taut, firm young ass. His steel-hard cock rubbed against the outside of my thigh. And a good sub loved receiving their punishments.

"Yes, Miss Rose," Alex gasped.

"If you disobey, you will be punished," I said.

The head of Alex's dick left a spot of wet precum along the skin of my thigh. Yes, he was a perfect toy. Obedience was as enticing as disobedience. Both would be met with pleasure. I lashed him again. Crack! Alex's hips thrust helplessly and I felt another drop of warm, sticky precum. I didn't want to waste it.

"Stand," I instructed.

Alex rose unsteadily to his feet. His ass was warm and pink. The tenderness of his skin was a sure sign that no one had ever treated him this way. I wondered suddenly if he had been with any women since our first lessons. He said there had been no time. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. On one hand, it would be a waste if he had not, but perhaps it was a mistress' possessiveness... I was pleased to think that Alex's fine, beautiful body had known no touch but mine.

I stood and selected a pair of handcuffs. Alex's eyes lingered on them. His criminal justice education had familiarized him with most restraints, but these were not like the cuffs carried by the police. The metal edges were rounded, more comfortable for long-time wear, and the chain between the steel bracelets was twice as long as usual. Alex held out his hands, trust in his eyes despite the red stripes on his ass.

I closed the handcuffs around his wrists with expert ease and then stood on my toes to slip the long chain over one of the ceiling hooks. Alex pulled curiously, experimentally against his restraints, but the hook was sunk eight inches into solid oak and held quite firmly.

I picked up my half-full wine glass again and stood back for a moment to admire Alex, the way his muscles bunched and tensed with his arms pulled up over his head. I still held the crop in my other hand. I trailed it lightly over my student's chest and stomach, aiming stinging swats at his ass and muscled thighs. Alex groaned, his hard cock unflagging despite the lack of direct attention.

I intended to change that. I set the crop aside on the table and offered Alex a sip of wine. He accepted, letting me give him the drink he could not hold in his own hands. Then he gasped as I poured the rest of the wine over his taut chest. The pale gold liquid ran down his flushed skin, over his rippled stomach and down his engorged cock.

Alex gasped at the chill of the wine, but the gasp melted away into a groan as I leaned in to lick it from his chest. The cold, sweet wine on his warm, salty skin made me shudder, already on the verge of my own orgasm. I lapped my way down, cleaning up every trace of wine from where it had dripped down Alex's lean young body. He grew breathlessly still as I neared his eager, wet cock.

"Please, Miss Rose," Alex whimpered. Begged. "Please..."

I paused just long enough to remind him that I did so at my own pleasure, that I was running the show, and then wrapped my red-painted lips around his thick dick. I sucked the wine from his hot flesh, from skin that was silky over steel hardness. Delicious. Even more delicious were Alex's low, helpless moans and the sounds of his handcuffs clattering on the hook as he writhed helplessly in the grip of ecstasy. Salty pre-cum leaked from the flared head of his cock, mixing with the wine on my tongue.

I felt my own wetness leaking from my body, dripping down my legs with molten heat. I stood, eliciting a disappointed moan from Alex, and ran my fingers up my left thigh. They came away slippery and wet. I held my fingers to Alex's mouth. He accepted them eagerly, sucking and licking them clean.

"Thank you, Miss Rose," he said. Such a polite boy.

I nodded with a short smile, a tiny reward for my good boy. My cunt ached, feeling almost unbearably empty and wet. It was unlike me to be so impatient, and it was too soon to take Alex to the sturdy four-poster bed to be ridden like a prize stallion. But I needed something...