It promised to be a hard evening. My client was a newcomer, and I always have some feelings of trepidation before meeting a new client, after all it's impossible to really analyse someone completely, over the phone, and the phone is how I get most of my clients.
This one said his name was Jim, he claimed that he wanted to be my slave. He said he was experienced and prepared for all the punishment and humiliation I could hand out. All of which may be true, but until I get a slave in my own hands, I never know whether they can cope with me.
It took me twenty years to discover I was a truly dominant person. I had always known I liked to be in charge of my relationships. For a while, at High school, I had thought there was something wrong, I could attract the best looking guys around, we would go out on a date, and then they'd drop me.
I didn't find out until after university that the problem was I wanted my men to provide ME with satisfaction, and how they got their satisfaction was up to them.
Now slave Jim was on his way to my apartment. He had called me two days previously to set up the appointment. I had given him his instructions. He was to attend for his training at exactly twelve minutes after three in the afternoon. I always like to demand that my slaves arrive at an odd time, it lets me judge how well they take orders. I had told Jim to call me twenty minutes before his reporting time so I could provide last minute instructions.
When Jim called I gave him his final instructions. I ordered him to ring my apartment bell at exactly the time I had specified. At that time he had to be wearing under his street clothes, a garter belt and black seamed nylon stockings with a blue bra, and a pair of red crotchless panties. He also should buy crimson nail polish and have his toe nails painted. I figured that would keep him hustling to make the purchases and, then when he had bought what he needed, he would have to find somewhere to change. I stumbled against this idea after a slave had told me how difficult it was to find a public washroom first, and then how difficult it was to undress and get the underwear on, and do it all in twenty minutes. It's also true that all men are embarrassed by having to buy women's undergarments, particularly when the garments are for them. So this little strategy allows me to get inside my slave's head before he ever arrives in my dungeon.
At exactly the correct time, my apartment buzzer went. It was my slave. I released the lock and told him to come up to my floor and wait outside the apartment for five minutes. Any slave approaches a meeting with his Mistress with trepidation and with fear, they don't know what waits them and so making them wait increases my hold over them.
Jim was not bad, he knocked at my door just a minute early, I didn't mind that, after all it was his first sign of disobedience and I would make him pay for it later.
I had prepared for this slave by wearing a pair of thigh high leather boots with a four inch stiletto heel, a short leather skirt and vest. Black nylons and elbow length gloves added to the image of a mighty dominatrix. I knew my appearance would leap out at the unfortunate outside. I threw the door wide open. "Get in here" I ordered, a quick glance had shown that my new slave was a well built businessman in his mid thirties. I gauged he was just under 6 feet tall, which meant he was almost half a foot taller than I, but that didn't worry me, all slaves are shorter than I when on their knees, and that's how this one was going to be.
"You're early, apologize".
"I'm s..s..sorry", he stammered.
Good, I thought, he's nervous already.
" That is not how I wish to be addressed, but don't worry you'll soon learn exactly what I like and what I don't like. Now get into that room, place your fee on the dresser, get your clothes off and place them in the chest and lock it." Once a slave has locked his street clothes away, and only I have the key, he quickly realizes that he can only leave when I am finished with him.
"When you've done that get onto your knees in the centre of the room, keep your knees spread wide apart and clasp your hands behind your neck, I will be in to inspect you in due course." With those instructions I closed the door of my playroom and went through to pour myself a drink.
I believe that many Mistresses make a big mistake in hurrying a session. The more time you give your slave to think, the more you can get inside his head, and when you're inside his head you have full control and can take any slave to limits they never knew existed.
I checked myself in the mirror added a touch of lip gloss and picked up a short riding crop. I was now ready for Jim.
Unhurriedly I entered the room where my slave was waiting, I was pleased to see that he had obeyed my instructions, but I was disappointed to see that his cock was rather limp. I know that is caused by fear, still it offends me. Before I could deal with that situation, I realized that my slave was looking around at me.
"How dare you look at me," I said, "keep your eyes fixed on the floor, only when you've proven yourself will you be worthy of looking at your Mistress." I moved in front of him and stood over the kneeling wretch, his downcast eyes could see only my 4 inch high heeled boots.
"There are some instructions you must follow while you are here. First, you will ALWAYS keep your knees spread widely apart, whether you are kneeling, lying down, crawling or walking. Second, you will address me as Mistress of pain and pleasure. Third, you will never say no to any command. Fourth, you will always present a hard cock, that miserable piece of nothing hanging down there insults me."
I used the tip of my riding crop to poke at his miserable appendage.
"Are you left or right handed?" I asked.
"Right handed, Mistress." he replied.
I slashed him across the shoulders with my crop,
"Have you already forgotten how to address me, you slut,?"
I'm sorry, Mistress of Pain and Pleasure, I'm right handed."
"That's better, leave your right hand where it is, and use your left hand to play with yourself and make that cock hard." It can be quite amusing to watch a slave try to jerk himself off with his 'wrong hand', they don't have the same rhythm and it can cause them some inconvenience, and that is what my sessions are all about, inconvenience and discomfort for the slave, entertainment for me.
I moved to a black leather chair set off to one side of the room. The chair is built on a platform, so a slave on his knees is looking at my knees, if he is performing well for me, I can open my knees, and provide a quick view of the heaven he hopes to reach, but the road to my cunt is long and hard.
"Over here, worm."
His cock was now at a satisfactory state of erection and he crawled to my feet.
