I remove the unpeeled peach from between sub s.'s clenched teeth, and fully delight in his revulsion. The extraction has released a sweet torrent of mingled juice and saliva down his winter-pale chin and neck, and he is clearly straining against the impulse to whimper and squirm and propel himself toward the pristine towel I have left folded on the paddling bench across the room to taunt him. I have left sub s. unrestrained this evening, knowing that his torment would be exponentially increased if he could, of his own free will, and in a matter of strides, cleanse his skin of the sticky film. But I am in possession of sub s.'s will, and his desire to please me outweighs his agony at the moment. He will be rewarded, but not until I've wrung my fun from him.
sub s., I've come to learn in the course of several months, is a compulsively orderly slut, and quite accustomed to having his way. Throughout the span of a workday, sub s. can crush or raise the standing and status of corporations and countless underlings with a phone call or stroke of a pen. sub s. is expensively, impeccably groomed, polished, tailored and manicured - fastidious to the point of obsession. sub s. can breeze into fully-booked 5-star restaurants and be instantly fawned over and accommodated. sub s. inevitably comes to me afterward. I always have him wait at least an hour in the hallway to see me - even if I've nothing else to do.
I peer at sub s. through a curtain, and I note two things; next to him on the sofa is a discreetly elegant takeout bag emblazoned with the logo of my most favored sushi bar, and his knee-jouncing, finger-wringing anticipation of the evening's delicious humiliation lends him the air of a fidgety schoolboy. I motion to a houseboy who descends to a street-level market and returns in moments with my order. Once these items are arranged to my liking, and I have prepared the room, the houseboy is dispatched to bring sub s. to me.
sub s. stands in the doorway silently until I beckon him in. I stand just behind the sole, gritty dust pile I ordered the houseboy to leave from his sweepings, and without hesitation, sub s. kneels at my feet, soiling the knees of his previously pristine linen trousers. He does not dare look up until I lay a velvet-gloved hand atop his head, and he knows he is permitted. He is wide-eyed and trembling and for just one moment, I consider mercy. But that is not why sub s. has come here tonight. I open my mouth, and release a crystal stream of spit down onto his forehead to trickle past sub s.'s tear ducts and quiver down to the tip of his nose.
"Strip," I command, and he complies.
The first time sub s. visited Rapture, he possessed the audacity to inquire as to where he might find a hanger so as not to sully his custom-made Italian suit. I did not hesitate to procure a hanger, but the contours of his clothing are not where it left its whip-wire impression. Tonight, he swiftly balls his garments into an untidy heap in the corner and resumes his obeisance at my boots. He has performed to my liking thus far, and he is allocated a treat - I wrench his expensively coiffed head to my toes, and he is permitted a small taste of my velveteen pumps. I laugh heartily at his twin shudders of arousal and repugnance.
One of the first things I learned about sub s. was his extreme reaction to lightly-furred surfaces. As were many well-heeled youth of his time, sub s. was sent to an all-male boarding school from age six onward, and exposure to the opposite sex was minimal, compelling, and terrifying. sub s. grew into a lad possessed of extreme curiosity and was, during the Winter break of his thirteenth year, discovered under the coat pile at his older sister's Christmas party. The young ladies, certain he'd been privy to their most intimate confidences as they'd whispered and giggled atop the heap of furs and wraps, jammed his face full of velvety trim, sueded cuffs and luscious mink until oxygen-deprived, he sunk out of consciousness. When sub s. floated back to the surface, he was surrounded by a gaggle of teenaged girls, pointing at the front of his cashmere trousers and tittering hysterically. sub s. while unconscious, had wet himself, and upon reviving, swiftly swelled the most monumental erection of his young life. In that moment, sub s. did not know if the burn and blush of his cheeks was from shame or excitement, but from then on, the two were inexorably entwined. I always wear velvet when sub s. is scheduled.
"Speak."
"Mistress Cherry, I have brought you dinner. I hope you find it to your liking."
