Miss Varla

Number two opened the door of the vintage Rolls Royce. It was silver, with an impeccable white interior, chrome plated front console, and a working cassette player, which gave Varla a little surge of happiness to use. She had a small box of cassettes on the seat next to her, and selected one. Number two put the tape in, and it began to play when he pulled out of the garage.

Driving down the highway, Varla looked out the window. It was just past 9, and she would arrive at the condo early, to get a head start and maybe catch a nap before her new sub arrived home from his business trip. She lost herself in the music.

Maybe I didn't love you

Quite as often as I could have

She thought about the new recruit, who was almost done with his testing period and heading into initiation with her. She had rejected nine potential subs before finding him. For a year, she wasn't sure she would Domme again, with anyone new.

Maybe I didn't treat you

Quite as good as I should have

She didn't allow herself to feel very often, but she had been frustrated for some time and it was affecting her ability to fully engage in scenes. She took out a brown moleskine notebook, worn with age, and used the flashlight on her phone to skim through it. The front page was titled "Roster" and included a list of names. Some had been crossed out, others added.

Abel *crossed out

Simon

Lance *crossed out

Logan *crossed out

Abel (again) *crossed out

Bobby

Ernesto

Felicia This one was not only crossed out, but also scribbled on in thick black pen.

The list went on like this, to the end of the page. There were more pages after this. She'd need a new book soon.

If I made you feel second best

Girl, I'm sorry I was blind

The crossed out names gave her pause, as they always did when she brought on someone new. It had taken her months to find someone she thought worthy of her time. In the beginning, she didn't have the sixth sense to be able to sort out the good from the bad, and let low quality people sneak their way into her very personal, very exclusive, ranks.

But you were always on my mind

She felt like, as she had begun to Domme professionally a decade ago, she was always chasing a high, chasing the feeling of those first few experiences. The first time she fingered a boy's asshole, freshman year of college. Her first mani pedi that had been paid for by a guy who wanted to follow her around like a little puppy. The first time she grabbed a man by the arm, dragged him into a bathroom, and forced him to lick her pussy, while a party of their friends continued to drink and laugh downstairs. She still got excited thinking of that one.

The car was on the freeway now, getting closer to Echo Park. "Number two, don't forget- it's exit 4A," she spoke, firmly but kindly.

"Yes Miss. 4A." Number two smiled to himself a little in the dark. His Mistress was very comfortable with him, and he had been driving her for the past four years. It made him feel like a very important part of the circle she had built, that he was responsible for her transportation, and therefore safety when traveling. He was also purview to quite a bit of information on all of the other men who she saw. Only a select few got to visit the big house. Number Two lived there.

The other two house slaves accused him of being smug. "You think you're so special because you get to drive her around. Big deal," Number Three said. Three was prideful himself, as he was in charge of Mistresses' wardrobe, personal care and travel arrangements. She had taken him with her on trips to New York, Montreal, London, Berlin, and most recently Tokyo. He could sew, mend, style and press, and he took excellent care of her vintage collections: hats, jewelry and leather goods. He was also responsible for all grooming and acted as her personal shopper.

"Listen, I can't help it that she loves cars, and she had to have a mechanic," Two said. "After all, I did have the tools to do the job," he laughed. Three rolled his eyes. Of all of Mistress Varla's subs, Three was the least masculine. First and foremost, he loved to serve. Getting to be around someone like Varla, and make her happy, gave him a purpose in his life. He was finally comfortable enough to be himself, confident in his own skin, and happy with his life path of serving her. In a way, she was his employer, as she provided for him, and the two other boys of the house, as well as his lover and companion. But more than anything else, she was his Mistress.

"Please, spare me," said Three. He got up, and mimed kicking number two in the crotch where he stood, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Oh, please do shut up," said number one in his posh London accent. He was taking a pan of stuffed cremini mushrooms out of the oven. He'd prepared Boursin soft cheese with garlic and a little bit of lemon for the filling. The Mistress was going to die over these, he just knew it. "Both of you are just another piece of the machinery. We all have our attention and we all get to serve her, so as far as I can tell, it's cake for everybody here. No need to bicker."

All three men took a moment, like monks sitting in their daily worship. They shared the same feelings for their Mistress, who loved them all.

Number Two came back to the present, noticing the exit coming up. He spent his days memorizing the routes he would drive, to avoid any last minute confusion or distraction when taking his Mistress where she needed to go. The neighborhood was a nice one, as was expected for any of her potential clients. He'd already driven this route once to make sure he knew where the new sub's condo was, where to park privately, and the entrance where he would drop off and pick up his lady.

The building was an art deco style holdover from the 30's, but recently refurbished and divided into condos. The investment group who owned the property had opted for a bold flamingo pink stucco, raising the public's interest in the place, and therefore the price. Two wondered about this new sub, and his proclivities. It was natural to have a bit of jealousy for the other men his Mistress gave her time to. It had been a topic of discussion in the house from time to time, but One had taught him how to deal with it.

"We have to remember that we belong to her, and not the other way around," he said, folding pool towels. Their Mistress asleep, One and Two used the early afternoon hours to relax and catch up on things that needed to be done before she woke up in the early evening.

"I know that, I do," said Two. He sat at the edge of the pool, in black swimming trunks. Once his work was done, he took advantage of these free afternoons to soak up some Vitamin D. It had been an adjustment, converting to his Mistresses' vampiric hours. "It still bothers me. Not so much with you and Three, but with the others, I worry about her. And I would rather have her to myself."

"That's the problem, you know," said One. He was folding the last towel in the pile. "She doesn't belong to us. She belongs to no one. We live to serve her, and she owns our lives. Not the other way around." He took a sip of iced tea and looked out over the hills below.

"We are lucky," said Two.

"So lucky!" added One. "To be selected by her, someone of her caliber, and what she does to us..." He rubbed the back of his neck, closing his eyes and sighing. "I'm thankful every day. If I ever get envious, or curious about the others, I just remember how lucky I am." He thought momentarily of her pussy, and how he'd given her pleasure the evening before. It brought a smile to his face. "Much better than a wife and kids anyday, right?" He laughed, getting up and carrying the towels inside.

Two found the staff entrance door to the Condominium building, and retrieved the key card he'd secured via his Mistresses' connections in real estate. The card would allow her entrance to the building, and to the new sub's place. He opened the door for her, and she rose as a Queen, reaching for his outstretched hand. He handed her the key card.

"Shall I wait, then, Miss?" He said, closing the car's back door behind her.

She paused and looked at him. Gently, she said, "No, Two, that'll be all for tonight. You may return home."

His heart fell, but he tried to keep an even face. "Yes, Miss," he said. He watched her go through the staff entrance and disappear into the building. Her hips swayed in her black dress, leather bag on her elbow. He knew she'd be staying the night here, and that did kill him a little. He tried to keep it together as he backed out of the alleyway, heading back to the house. Maybe he'd take the long way home tonight.

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Stepping out of the elevator on his floor, Ben was exhausted. It had been a quick 48 hour business trip to Vegas, but the city was so overwhelming that he felt like he'd just had a full week there. He was also in a bad place both physically and mentally, having not heard from Varla in almost three days. He'd been on punishment, and he felt horrible that he had disobeyed her. His cock was sore, his balls were full, and he felt desperate.

During the past three days, he had not cum, touched himself or even thought about cumming. Unfortunately, the punishment had coincided with his monthly trip to Vegas, which made for a maelstrom of distraction, stimulation and temptation. But he had obeyed her. He'd been a good boy. He took his meetings, went to dinner with clients, and when those things were done, he went back to his hotel room. He shut the curtains against the lights of the strip below. Lying on the bed, his cock ached as he waited for the hours to pass until he would hear from her again.

Arriving at the door to his condo, he propped his roller bag against the wall and stopped. He could hear music, which was unusual for his building. It sounded faint, muffled, but yes, he could hear it. Opening the door, he was surprised to see his accent lamp by the sofa turned on, and to hear that the music was coming from his stereo. A record was playing. He shut the door behind him, more excited than nervous. He knew this wasn't the work of a thief, but rather an intruder. And probably one he wanted to intrude upon his life.

"Hello?" he said, dropping his keys on the kitchen island. Understanding now what was going on, his heart leapt. The music was instantly recognizable, now that he was through the door.

You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys

From the doorway leading to his bedroom, Varla stepped out. "Hello, boy," she said, coming closer to him. He could smell the musky drift of her perfume. To him, it smelled like Nag Champa. It brought a strong sense memory to his mind- incense burning in a suburban basement, kissing and petting with his first girlfriend at 15. That scent always got him excited and hard, with no other outside stimuli.

She was dressed to the nines in a long sleeved black catsuit. It left nothing to the imagination and Ben felt himself turning into a puddle as he looked at the woman he had been longing to worship for months now was finally right in front of him. Her black hair was up in a high ponytail, and her face was done perfectly, with big, dramatic cat eyes. She had olive skin, supple lips, and slightly red cheeks.

"Miss..." was all he could mutter, standing there shocked. He still held the handle of his bag in one hand, and lightly leaned on the kitchen island for stability. He'd never felt more shocked in his life. He'd expected a call or a text once his time was up, but not this. She had hinted that it would be a very long time before he'd get to meet her in person.

"Surprised?" She walked further into the room and the light. To Ben, in person she was far more gorgeous than in any photos or the brief video call he'd had with her. She looked like a mix of Priscilla Presley, Vampira and oddly enough, a girl next door type. Her hair was long and black, and not a piece of it was astray. He noticed her feet were bare and dropped the handle of his suitcase involuntarily. Her toenails were black. Varla smirked.

"My poor boy!" she said, slowing her steps. He watched her feet pad across the hardwood floors. "You're shaking!" Grabbing his hands, she led him over to the sofa and sat him down. "Breathe, please, Benjamin. I can't have you passing out on me." Sitting next to him, he could feel her weight sinking into the couch, proving that she was real and not a figment of his imagination.

"Yes, Miss," he said, turning to look at her. He was still barely breathing. Her hips were wider than he thought they would have been, with a healthy amount of ass. He stopped eye groping her and tried to breathe as she had directed.

She reached a hand across and stroked his face. "You need a shave, my dear," she said, smiling. Her eyes examined him. "Seeing you in person like this, I think I may have chosen well." Her other hand rested on his shoulder and she leaned across him a little more. Grabbing his chin firmly but not forcefully, Varla moved her sub's head back and forth, taking a good long look at his features. "You're really quite handsome, you know," she said. Her fingertips stroked the side of his face. "This jawline could cut somebody." She smiled. Inside, Ben was, indeed, a complete puddle.

"Thank you." She looked at him sharply for a moment. "I mean, thank you, Miss," he corrected himself.

"You're so nervous. Let's work on that. Try to relax. Listen to the music." The record continued to play. It was a compilation album. The song had continued on to The Ronettes- "Be My Baby" as Ben's dream woman started to undress him. His shirt was coming off, then she was running her fingers down his chest, through the patch of fur there. He started to moan. "Shhhhh, quiet now" she said, raising a finger to her lips. She started to remove his belt.

I'll make you happy baby

Just wait and see

For every kiss you give me

I'll give you three

"Don't you just love this song?" she said, moving to the floor. She knelt in front of him, pulling his pants down. "Now, let's really see what we're dealing with, shall we? And not a peep from you." Varla looked at Ben sternly, following it with a smirk. He was quivering.

As she removed his boxers, her sub's cock sprung up as the waistband was pulled down. She felt the connection between them in her solar plexus. It was the opposite of the feeling of butterflies, which were light and airy, exciting and frightening. This felt secure, strong and solid. It made her feel grounded and confident. She grabbed his cock.

"Wow, I see I was right after all. You are a good boy." Stroking him lightly, she maintained eye contact. "Tell me how it's been for you, these past few days."

He managed to find his words. "It's been... uhhhhh..." he moaned. "I missed you." He couldn't believe she was touching him like this. His cock was rock hard, and in record time. It took everything in him not to explode all over her immediately, but he managed to resist that temptation.

"Yes, tell me..." she teased. Her tongue flicked at the tip of his cock, lightly. A whimper came from him. She smiled. "Yes, baby, make those noises. I like that. That makes the boss very happy." She continued, running her tongue down the seam of his penis. She lapped gently at the small, soft place where his foreskin met his balls, cupping her tongue around the base. Despite being a domme, first and foremost Varla was a very horny woman, and she loved men's bodies. From the clean and fit, muscular ones, to the chubby, hairy, bearlike dad types, she loved having a man's body at her disposal, a toy she could never get enough of. She had to remember to stop herself though. She pulled away.

"I don't expect you to be able to fully answer me in your condition," said Varla, standing up. She looked down at her newest subservient. "We have business to attend to," she continued, and began to unzip the black catsuit. Under it, she was nude. Her breasts softly fell from the clothing, and she laughed. Ben's jaw actually fell open, and he grew harder. He wanted to touch himself so badly that he was flexing his hands. He sat up a little straighter.

"Miss..." he said, as she stepped out of the catsuit. She was fully nude now, and she tossed it to the side. With her left hand, she grabbed the base of her ponytail, and ran her hand down it, all the way to the end of her hair. She tugged upwards, as if pulling on a rope that suspended her body, and followed the motion smoothly, turning all the way around. Her ass was facing Ben now, and she bent over at the waist in front of him. He gasped again. His cock was leaking.

"You and I have a lot of work in front of us," Varla said, gently swaying back and forth. She had large hips and a big ass, which was perfectly round when bent over. She used this feature often to her advantage. Ben had indicated through his initial questionnaire that he was an ass man, and would happily just worship her ass for hours, which was one of the reasons he stood out in the group of new applicants. "Lots of long nights, projects to complete, experiments to try," she said, bending up again. Her back muscles moved smoothly in the dim light.

"Miss, yes. I'm so glad to be yours. Please let me touch you," said Ben, moving closer to the edge of the couch. He knew better than to reach out, but he needed to be closer to her, just in case.

"On the floor." Her voice was deeper and direct. The sub complied quickly, pausing to kick his pants and boxers off of his ankles. He laid next to the coffee table, fully erect. His Queen walked over to him, a tall goddess surveying what she had in front of her. She walked around his body, just listening to the music. Nancy Sinatra. Varla sang along as she pushed the ball of her foot into the sub's soft testicles. "One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you," she sang, looking him in the eyes. He was shocked. Her feet were cold, and the pressure was intense, but the eye contact, having her here naked above him, was worth all of the pain. His eyes started to roll back into his head as she pushed into him harder.

Are you ready, boots? Start walking!

The music was happy, cheerful even, as she slowly pushed into his most vulnerable part. He was breathing through his mouth, panting now, and had closed his eyes. She decided that was enough. Removing her foot, she padded to the bar. There was a martini there that she'd already prepared, and she sipped it. Ben lay there, recovering. His hands went to his balls, cupping himself. She thought about what to do next.

"I'm so sorry, my sweetheart," said Varla, carrying her drink over to where her sub lay. "Are you ok?" She knew when to be kind, and when to be cruel. She had practice at adding sugar, comforting, snuggling and being affectionate, so that when the cruelty continued, it was a shock again. Hot, then cold, was always an effective method.

"Miss, yes, I'll be ok. I'm just sore is all," his voice quivered. He rubbed his balls gently. Before he knew what was happening, he was being smothered. Varla was sitting on his face, her open pussy right on his mouth. All he could see was her huge ass, rising above him, while he started to lick and suck on her labia and clit. He grew even harder. The trauma he'd just endured was a distant memory.

"You've been such a good boy," she said, grinding into his mouth. "You can touch me." Ben heard this and didn't waste any time, grabbing two big handfuls of her ass, squeezing her soft flesh. He tried to spread her open wider, for better access to her pussy and asshole. She moved up and down, trying to find the sweet spot where his tongue could touch her clit just right. She could do this all day. There had been millionaires who offered her the moon just for this. But she'd chosen this sub, a moderate earner, who had appealed to her with his dark hair and eyes, and stories about needing to serve a lady, wanting to be owned, and never having met the right woman. She knew he was lonely, and she liked that. She loved to nurture a lonely boy. They were so eager to please, and be used however she wanted. She was happy that she'd chosen well.