Miss Varla Part II- The New Sub's String
Ben arrived home just past ten, tired after the day's work, and the evening's forced professional socializing. It had been quite a day, and he hadn't been able to fully process the video call of the prior evening. Throwing his keys and wallet on the kitchen island, he bent over and placed his head on the granite. Bringing his fist to his mouth, he let out a muffled scream.
So many feelings and emotions had been flooding him these past several weeks. He'd thought about being owned for years, but had been too scared. He'd tried to introduce it into relationships, and casual sex, but the women he wound up with were never game to really dominate him. A little light bondage had been tried, some face sitting, and one girl had loved to slap his hard cock. But what he wanted was more, was deeper, and wasn't something he could find with most women.
It made him feel so much shame. Shame that he needed to be owned, told what to do, and needed a woman to lead him. Shame that he couldn't just be normal, enjoy a vanilla relationship. He'd had serious girlfriends before, but he could never quite commit. Something was always missing. He hated himself for all of this, but at the same time, the potential with Miss Varla was so exciting. He wondered if it could satisfy him, if he could really get what he needed this time.
The hot water felt just right running over his body. He thought about Varla, at least that's what she went by online, although he was only to address her as Miss or Mistress. Her body, her tits, were impeccable- but voluptuous and curvy, with a little sag. They were the breasts of a woman in her mid 40's. Her face had some light laugh lines, her neck had a very subtle softness that showed her age. The fact that she was older and more experienced made her irresistible to him. He hadn't minded the thorough application process and testing he'd gone through so far. He would have given her just about anything. Purchasing the vehicle was a stretch for him financially, but he would have given her every last cent he had, just to give over control.
He was getting hard now, and he knew that was the danger zone. He was not to touch himself without her permission, unless it was to urinate or to wash. He was definitely not allowed to cum, and he hadn't over three weeks. She was very firm on these points, which made the tension and excitement that much better. She'd occasionally allowed him some masturbation, flirting with him, telling him exactly what to do, when to start and stop, and exercising her control. But now that he had seen her body, live on camera, and she had shown him herself in such an intimate way, he didn't know how long he could go without giving in, stroking his cock while whispering her name to himself, thinking about her long black hair, huge tits and shapely hips. His hand was on himself before he could really consider what he was doing.
He saw her there, in front of him, kneeling on the floor of the shower. Her hair was up in a clip, and she wore black and green eye makeup, in a fantastic cat eye style that fit in with her 60's look. She was naked, her tits were heavenly soft and touching his thighs, while she looked into his eyes. Her nipples pressed up against him, and he could feel how hard they were. She looked straight at him as she opened her mouth, grabbed the base of his shaft, and licked the underside of his cock, her pink wet tongue stuck out as far as it could go.
His eyes practically rolled back into his head, imagining with perfect clarity what her tongue would feel like, feeling the excitement of her attention and the energy of his attraction to her, as he grew harder in his hand. He began to stroke himself, his hand not his hand anymore, but changed somehow into the soft mouth of a woman he had never met in person, but who was his ultimate fantasy.
Being with her like this, in his mind, was an old habit. He'd done it for years, since as a teen he thought about an always changing roster of women he'd have liked to fuck. They were all vamps, in a way. Salma Hayek, she was a favorite. The girl who worked in the business department's office at his college was featured for a while; she was also a brunette, with glasses and a sarcastic attitude. Who it was at the moment wasn't that important, but the act itself was, the retreat into his fantasy world.
Now he thought of Varla, yes it was true, their relationship was transactional, but that didn't matter. He needed her so much. He needed to be submissive.
This thought made him pause, and abruptly stop. The ghost of Varla disappeared. He stood there in the hot water, cock softening. He shouldn't be doing this. He didn't have permission. What was he thinking? He stopped touching himself. His hands had gone soft and pruney from the water. He turned off the shower. What was it about a shower that always made him want to masturbate? Drying off, he heard his phone signal a notification in the other room.
**********
Being a night creature, Varla didn't spend a lot of hours basking by the pool, as that was an activity best done by day. It was night now though, and hot in Los Angeles. Her backyard overlooked the valley below, full of all sorts of people and their dirty little debaucheries. She sat naked on a vintage chaise lounge, upholstered in soft purple velvet. Not exactly pool furniture, but her slaves saw to it that it was brought inside for bad weather, when it happened. Her body loved this, being nude and the feel of the heat on her skin. 10 PM and it was still 80 degrees, her body was slightly sweaty but felt luscious. She wore her hair up in a handkerchief, planning on preparing victory curls for her evening out later.
Her house slave was nearby, having brought her a light dinner and her favorite after dinner treat, a pink squirrel. He knew just how to make it: a perfect blend of crème de noyaux, crème de cacao, fresh white cream and a beautifully applied sprinkle of nutmeg. She'd done well to select a foodie as her first house slave, in addition to his many other talents.
One of the drawbacks to living in Los Angeles was not really being able to see the stars at night. The light pollution of the city made the sky a dark blur. She knew there were stars out there, but she could only fully enjoy her nude moonbathing at her place outside of Tucson. The property was remote, and the sky was perfectly black. She loved to lie there and lose her thoughts while studying the stars. That was submission to her.
A tingling feeling came in the back of her neck. This was a specific feeling that meant only one thing: one of her subs was disobeying her. This sense of connection she felt with them was an innate thing, and a bit of a mystery even to her. When she decided to take a man on as her subservient, it was a true commitment. They became bonded and as much as it was of benefit to him, to be able to fully lose control and give his life over to a powerful woman who definitely knew better than he ever could, it was also a responsibility for her. That's why she chose wisely, only taking on one or two new men each year. Being linked with her was not cheap, and it was not an easy position to secure.
Now, though, she felt something that only popped up occasionally. Usually they only disobeyed her when the connection was waning. Maybe she'd been too distracted, not paying him enough attention, and the invisible string had grown lax. That would cause a sub to stray, disobey and the cord to lighten. Now though, she knew immediately that it was her new candidate. She grabbed her phone.
V: Boy. What have you been doing?
B: Miss, I just got home. I was out.
V: And how long have you been home?
B: Not long, miss
V: How long.
