Miss Varla

Morning. As soon as he realized he was awake, Ben was flooded with emotions. Excited beyond belief, because his Mistress had come to him. Happy, thankful, and very horny thinking of the things they had done together. Afterwards, they lay together in his bed, nude, with his head on her chest. She pet his dark hair and caressed his forehead. It was quiet, the light of his single bedside lamp low, illuminating the room dimly. She had turned it on before he got home, wanting her submissive to be able to see her while she used him for her pleasure.

She asked him, as she asked all of her boys at one time or another, "Are you happy?"

The extreme sense of relief in his voice was apparent as he said "Oh, yes, Mistress. I needed this so badly." He held her free hand and dared to kiss the top of it. She smiled.

"I'm glad. I feel I chose well, with you."

"Thank you Mistress." It was a whisper. He was overwhelmed.

Now, the morning light seeped through the blinds. She was gone. "Mistress?" he said, getting up. Fully nude, he quickly peeked in his bathroom and out into the main living area. There was no evidence she'd been here. He went over to the couch and sat, rubbing his face with his hands. He had spent the night with his dream woman. He thought about her hands touching him, her mouth on him, her breath on his neck, the things she'd said, and he was excited and overwhelmed. It felt like a drug, indulging in the fresh memories. His phone buzzed from the kitchen island, where he had dropped it when he got home last night.

V: Good morning, Benjamin

B: Good morning Mistress!

V: I thought you'd just be getting up. I needed to check on you. How are you feeling?

B: Overwhelmed Mistress.

Did I dream that?

V: You did not dream that.

Ben inhaled, his head rolling back. It had happened! He hadn't dreamt the night before.

B: It feels like a dream, Mistress.

V: Hopefully a good dream, Subby.

His cock responded. Was she giving him a pet name?

B: An excellent dream, Mistress. The best I have ever had.

She didn't respond for a few minutes. He held his phone, just waiting. He had to use the bathroom, and felt a little awkward just being naked in the kitchen, even alone at home, but he waited. He would always wait for her.

V: Take care of yourself today. I know you're off of work. Extra rest, good food and a nice hot shower. I will contact you later today after sundown. That is all.

Ben was excited by this, but he knew not to push her for more. That had been a part of his early orientation with her, how to look for cues that she was done communicating and didn't want to be bothered further. He gave one of the standard responses she had taught him.

B: Thank you Mistress. I live to serve.

Over the next few hours, he tried to go about his usual day off, but was heavily distracted with thoughts of her. He was almost constantly hard, but had to ignore that, as he wasn't allowed to touch himself without her permission. Showering, he thought of her lips around his cock, her soft tongue brushing the underside, and her hand massaging his balls. Cleaning his kitchen, he tossed old produce from the fridge and remembered the moment she'd taken off the black catsuit. Her breasts were perfect and what his dreams were made of. Full, with large deep pink nipples, and slightly saggy with the telltale sign of a woman in her 40's. He shook the thought off and tossed a partial bag of baby carrots, desiccated from neglect.

Sundown. He eagerly awaited it. He had no plans today and decided to catch a movie. He liked going to matinees by himself, the independence of it. Not having to consult anyone else on what to see, what time to go, what snacks to buy. The movie was a long one, and complicated. A sci fi flick with time travel, multiple narratives and a convoluted plot. He didn't particularly enjoy it, and his mind wandered. He pictured Varla sitting next to him, dressed to the nines in a fitted black dress with a deep v neck and a slit up the thigh. He'd seen her wearing this in one of the photos on her website. She looked like Vampira, if she'd been a modern day porn star with big tits. He daydreamed and eventually the movie ended. He took himself home and decided to go for a late afternoon jog.

Varla slept. Her chambers were dark, with specialty blackout curtains providing her the environment she needed. The house was dead quiet. During the day, her house slaves did light work, rested or left. They knew no noise could be made in the big house, and they were well trained not to make it. Their phones were on silent.

She dreamt of an impossible scenario. In dreams, things make sense but they don't. She was at a new place which was a hybrid of her home and the apartment she'd spent time in last night with her new charge. Her big four poster bed was in his living room, and she rode him. It was a dream that felt real. The black silken sheets were soft, she heard music drifting by from the stereo, and she felt her subby's skin and hair under her hands. Her body rose and fell with a natural rhythm, and the man groaned and reached up to touch her breasts. They fucked at a medium pace, finding the perfect rhythm to sustain her edge. She looked down at him and their eyes locked.

On his run, Ben ducked under a low branch on the trail. The thought of his Mistress was so strong, he grew distracted, almost tripping. He stopped running abruptly, and a blonde woman wearing large noise cancelling headphones darted around him. He walked off the trail and sat down hard on a small hill leading up to a sad looking palm. What had that been? His heart raced. He felt for a second as though his Mistress had been- not only with him, here where he was, but somehow also inside of him. What had just happened? He tried to calm himself and catch his breath. His cock was hard. Eventually he stood, and managed to jog at a much slower pace back home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Evening.

With no solid plans besides waiting for a message from Varla, Ben lay on his couch, scrolling through his streaming service, looking for a movie to watch. Something better than what he'd seen that afternoon. He sought a distraction from his eager mind and body.

He settled on an old favorite, a dumb comedy from the 90's that he'd seen at least a dozen times, and just started to get into the story when his phone buzzed. He jumped.

V: Hello Subby

B: Hello Mistress!

V: Burgundy Room. 10 PM.

B: Yes Mistress. I will be there. Anything else?

V: That is all.

B: Thank you Mistress. I live to serve.

He had three hours until he had to be there. This would be agony. But the anticipation felt exciting to him as he sat on the couch, trying in vain to continue watching the stupid movie. He couldn't help himself and after twenty minutes, got up and went to his bedroom to prepare.

He left his parking garage hyper early, making sure he'd leave himself plenty of time to get to the bar and park. Twenty-five minutes early, he parallel parked two blocks away, and sat in his car, trying to relax. She was meeting him again, for the second day in a row, and in public. This was much for him to take in, and he could feel himself sweating slightly in his trim black Tom Ford suit.

Becoming a potential submissive for Miss Varla had come with some research, including a long document that had been emailed to him with a list of her preferences for men. One of the top details she'd given was that she preferred men to be dressed formally but in chic clothing. She loved black, really any dark color, on her men. She liked facial hair, but it must be trimmed and kept neat, always perfectly groomed. Cologne was hit or miss for her and in general she did not enjoy it. Ben wore nothing but his natural scent, plus deodorant and aftershave. He hoped he wouldn't sweat too badly tonight.

Another preference that had been set forth was that, if a submissive were meeting her in public, he should not be early, and not be late, but be exactly on time. He thought of this as he watched the clock on his dash. It was painful to watch the minutes tick by while he knew his Mistress was either at the bar, or on the way here. 9:54. He couldn't take it any longer, and walked at a deliberate pace, not wanting to be too early. His heart pounded.

The place was 100% Varla and he loved it immediately. Dark, moody and old school. A deep red light permeated the space, illuminating the long wooden bar. A sign behind the bar read:

Non-Tippers will be asked to leave

(And go to Hell)

Ben wasn't sure what to do as he continued scanning the space. His eyes fell on a corner booth. It had a high back, upholstered in purple velvet with gold trim, and in it sat... a Queen. He went directly to her.

"Benjamin, it's 9:57. Are you supposed to be here now?" said Varla, sipping from a martini glass.

"Mistress, I apologize. I know I am not to be late." He looked down at the linoleum floor.

She set her drink down and looked at him sharply. "Well, then, you may stand there awkwardly, staring at your shoes until it is 10:00 on the button. Hopefully those around us will stare."

"Yes, Mistress." His cheeks burned. The sense of shame in her disappointment raced through him. It wasn't entirely unpleasant and was not so different from the erotic thrill he felt when under any other command from her. The minutes passed by painfully. She stared at him and did not move her eyes away.

"Ten P.M. You may sit in the booth, Subby."

Subby! This excited him. He rushed in to sit near her, but did not presume he could be very close. He was sweating.

"Nice suit."

"Thank you Mistress." Again, blushing a little.

She reached down and retrieved a brown leather document file. She pulled a sheet of paper from it, and sat it in front of him.

Contract

I, Benjamin XXXXX, hereby agree to belong to Miss Varla in a consensual arrangement of sexual and personal ownership. The terms of this agreement are set to last one year and one day from the date of signing.

Under this agreement, the slave agrees to the following terms:

I. Complete and total sexual and personal submission. This submission may include direction of routine tasks, sexual acts, and personal choices which may affect daily life.

II. Dedication to pleasing Mistress, doing as she says, and being completely obedient to her will and wishes. Agreement that the slave belongs to Mistress fully, and that the slave exists solely to serve the Mistress as best as possible.

III. Agreement that the submissive's body belongs fully to Mistress, and that Mistress makes any choices in regards to the physical body including shaving, cutting of hair and styling, and wardrobe. Dominant is permitted to pierce, tattoo, or otherwise alter the body of her submissive at will.

The slave's rights include:

I. Ultimate verbal veto of any act deemed beyond the submissive's limits. Slave should only use this veto, or safeword, in cases where the mental fear or physical pain becomes too overwhelming and would cause the submissive excessive mental or physical damage. Mistress agrees to push her submissive only as far as he needs to go for his own growth, excitement and fulfillment.

II. Daily communication from Mistress. Mistress may not be out of communication with her property for more than 24 hours without prior arrangements. Personal breaks are permitted for both parties, as long as they are communicated in advance. The slave is still in service when not in communication with his Mistress.

Ben read the details intently while Varla sipped her drink. A second page included more detailed text obviously crafted by an attorney. He was happy to see that she would have no rights to his finances besides an agreed upon fee, which he had already paid a deposit for.

"Miss, thank you. This all looks perfect to me. Does this mean I'm ready?" Ben spoke softly, pushing the pieces of paper around with his fingertips. He dared to look up at her. She looked at him, for the first time, warmly.

"That's a question I should be asking you. I present you with the contract, Benjamin, but you'll notice that I did not supply a pen."

"Yes, Miss."

"I'm showing you this now," she said, gathering the papers and putting them back into her folder, "to let you know that you're on the path towards full servitude. It's a fun and encouraging thing." She finished off her drink, and with a swift motion rose from the booth. "Come with me," she said, confidently strutting towards the back of the room. He followed eagerly.

She walked down a dimly lit hallway, past the bathrooms. A bright red EXIT sign illuminated the space, and she went outside. "Get in," she said, walking up to a vintage 1970's pink Cadillac. A grey haired man sat behind the wheel, the engine idling. Ben got in the back seat, next to Miss Varla. "Gregory, we can go now," she said.

The driver put the car in gear and eased into the flow of traffic. It was slightly congested but moving steadily as they drove into the nearby hills.

"Do you like this car, Benjamin?" said Varla. Her seatbelt was fastened securely around her black wrap style dress, accentuating her breasts. Ben stole a glance.

"Yes, Miss, a very nice car."

"Gregory bought this car as a part of his initiation. It's a Deville," she said, pulling out a small vape pen from her purse. She took a puff and exhaled slowly. "I chose this model because of the big back seat. Isn't that right, Gregory?"

Gregory muttered a quiet "Yes, Miss." Ben was beginning to understand that Gregory was another submissive of Varla's.

"Also, love the paint. I'm usually more into black like the car you found, or red, but I had to have something baby pink. Do you like pink, Benjamin?" Varla uncrossed her legs and looked directly at him. He wanted to reply, but was too distracted by his hardening erection.

Varla laughed softly and took another pull from her vape pen. They were driving through a nice neighborhood with mid century modern homes and the occasional condo building. "Gregory's been with me for just about two years. Actually," she said, smiling like a cat, "you're here to help me with his anniversary present. Isn't he, Gregory?"

Gregory stammered another "Yes, Miss" while turning into a long driveway. Rolling down his window manually, he punched a code into a security keypad, opening a wrought iron gate. Pulling up the driveway, Ben wondered what he had gotten himself into. Miss Varla looked in her purse, pulling out a lipstick and a compact mirror, and Ben stole another glance at her open thighs. Her skirt had a slit in it, exposing her black stocking and what he thought was the bottom of a tattoo on her upper thigh.

"I see you sneaking looks, subby," she said to Ben while applying a deep red lipstick. Her mirror tilted, showing Ben's reddening face. She laughed.

Gregory exited the car first, and came around to open the door for Varla. Ben followed behind as the driver opened the large oak front door, which was illuminated by soft golden light. The interior consisted of a large entry room, with a formal living room to the left and a dining area to the right. The home was decorated tastefully but conservatively, with neutral colors and blonde wood.

"Is this your house, Miss?" Asked Ben, taking the place in.

"Ugh, God no. This is Gregory's house. I could never be so pedestrian. It is nice," she said, setting her purse down on the buffet that sat in the entry. "But a little generic for my tastes. Gregory, I'll bring Benjamin upstairs, if you want to prepare some drinks for us."

"Yes Miss," he said, walking swiftly down the central hallway of the home. Ben saw he was dressed in a grey suit, and had grey hair, but wore, astonishingly, a baby pink dress shirt. It matched the Cadillac perfectly.

"Come with me, Subby," she said, grabbing him by the hand. He felt more excited at this familiar gesture than he had all night. He followed her up the white carpeted stairs. "There's a bathroom there, in the hallway," she gestured, "so you can freshen up. I'll be in the main suite at the end of the hall, come in when you're ready."

"Yes Miss," he said. He wondered how long to take. Thankfully, the bathroom was fully stocked with washcloths, razors, personal wipes, new toothbrushes, toothpaste and a few men's deodorants. It was as though this had all been prepared for him. He washed himself with a washcloth, grateful for the opportunity to rid himself of his nervous sweat. He brushed his teeth and splashed his face with cold water. Taking a breath, he opened the door.

Music spilled from what he assumed was the main bedroom, and went inside. He knew this song. "Rill Rill" by Sleigh Bells. The room was dimly lit and she swayed in front of a stereo and sang along.

So this is it then?

You're here to win friend

Click, click saddle up see you on the moon then

"Sit, subby," she said, pointing to a simple bed with a white coverlet. She kept swaying, enjoying the song, and Ben stared at her ass openly since she was facing away and he dared it.

Gregory entered the room with a drink tray, and sat it down on a side table. He handed Miss Varla a martini glass, and silently gestured for Ben to take a drink. There were a few beers on ice, a chilled shaker, and a bottle of Absolut. Ben stood and grabbed a Heineken, his favorite, and sat back on the bed.

"Kneel, Gregory," said Varla, turning the volume down slightly. She crossed the room and shut the bedroom door. Gregory dropped instantly to his knees as Ben watched Varla kick off her heels and return to him.

"Very good, Gregory, very good. How are you feeling?" said Varla, taking a sip of her drink. She placed her right foot on Gregory's left thigh, pressing slightly.

"Excited, Miss." Ben got a better look at Gregory for the first time, really seeing his face. He was younger than Ben had thought, probably about 40, in good shape with a slight belly, and a kind face. He looked like the kind of man who would help anyone in need, and right now he looked both nervous and thrilled.

"I know you are." Varla abruptly lifted her leg, putting her toes in Gregory's mouth, and he uttered a grunt of satisfaction that Ben could feel in his belly. The man moaned softly and sucked on Varla's stockinged toes, his hands held behind him. This was one of the standard poses she taught all of her submissives.

"Open," said Varla, pouring her martini down her shin. The liquid went all over the carpet, with only a small portion reaching the submissive's mouth. He drank what he could around her toes, still sucking and groaning even more. She finished dumping the drink on herself this way, and grabbed the olive, chewing it slowly.

"Benjamin, do you know what Gregory is?" she said, looking his way. She stood on one leg, keeping her foot in place.

"No, Miss. He's lucky, Miss," said Ben.

Varla laughed slightly. "Well, he is lucky! But no, he's something else. He's a special kind of submissive. Gregory, stop that now." She took her foot away and stood on two legs again. "Gregory, what are you?"

"I'm just a worthless slut, Miss," said Gregory, lust drunk. He swayed.

"No, no, not that! The other thing!" Varla slapped his cheek. He drew in a breath.

"I'm a pathetic cuck, Miss."

"Yes, that's right, that's what you are." Varla put down her empty glass on the side table. "A cuck," she said, turning and leaning back, "is special because he is at another level of devotion. His highest form of service is in my pleasure, regardless of how it happens." Varla untied the waist of her wrap dress and took it off in a quick motion. She let it drop to the ground and both men openly stared at her. Underneath the dress, she had a bra and panty set that was hard to comprehend for the men. It was black, sheer, yet opaque, and had many straps, segments and sections. They tried to understand it while feeling the pleasure of rising arousal.