Saucy Gets Bootz and More

one of these days these boots are gonna' walk all over you...

Author Note

: this story is based partially on real events. The fictionalized ending represents her fantasy version of how things might have gone but didn't and she penned the little ditty for him to read and enjoy after he returned home.

Even before a single word was shared between them, she was immediately captivated by his formidable presence. Standing beside her, he towered over her petite frame by at least a foot or more, their considerable difference in height leaving her feeling dwarfed in his presence; not a bad thing to feel, especially if it turns out his energy would be the Dominant yang to complement her submissive yin, even for an ephemeral spin across the kinky dance floor. Silently she mused about this possibility, hoping to discover her instincts were on target, but unwilling to be presumptuous, no less cocky about such matters. The answer to her private query would be revealed to her in good time, yet in the interim, she thoroughly enjoyed her silent reverie about possibilities as yet unearthed.

Standing sentry at her post at the entrance to the classroom, dressed a bit fetishy as a punked out little school girl, she wondered who this tall, sexy stranger was and what might become of their incipient encounter, as they hovered around by the back door of the room where she was volunteering as a classroom monitor at a kinky conference they were both attending.

The flirtatious banter had not yet ensued, yet she could feel his energy, his powerful presence next to her, and her eyes could not help but wander, leading her to ogle the oh so sexy, knee high, lace up leather boots he was sporting, the pants legs of his jeans neatly tucked into his boots, showing them off to full advantage. She could just imagine the warm, fragrant scent of the leather, and the soft feel as she brushed her cheeks up and down the tall boots, inhaling their sweet, earthy scent, as her silky skin caressed the boots as lovingly as she would stroke her lover.

Before long, he spoke to her, although she has no memory of exactly what he said to get the conversational juices flowing - - perhaps it doesn't really matter because his gambit, whatever it consisted of, worked its magic like a sly magician teasing his audience deftly with sleight of hand. Before long they were engaged full throttle in conversation of the sort that curious strangers indulge in; the sizing up kind of conversation where each mines the other for relevant data in the quest to discover the nascent spark that might morph into flames if properly fanned.

They chatted about the conference, from where they hailed geographically, and exchanged names, not real ones of course, but instead playful scene names. He seemed taken with her moniker, 'saucy,' and the cheeky, insouciant images it brought to his mind as he imagined her sweet spicy nature. Whether the product of wile or simply felicitous, Bootz managed to adroitly pepper their conversation frequently and playfully with her moniker, saucy, leaving her giggly and gushing like a school girl with each utterance of her pet name.

Bootz introduced himself by name, whipping out his business card in one slick, fluid movement, like a cowboy slinking a pistol out of his holster. Energetic, engaged banter ensued as the duo chatted animatedly about various BDSM-related interests and kinks, notably saucy's penchant for objectification. Without missing a beat, cowboy Bootz lassoed saucy right in, like a steer rustled up on the plains, informing her that he just happens to teach a class on that very topic: music perking up her kinky ears of course. Saucy danced to his beat, regaling Bootz with stories of her own --teasing him with tawdry tidbits from her own, debaucherous objectification exploration, the remnants of which secretly lingered underneath her tiny plaid skirt. Scrawled across her ass cheeks in his perfect, artfully crafted font were those words, so hot they could have been branded on, but instead were penned only with a black sharpie.

Bootz pulled out the edge play card, scaring Saucy with his fascination with needle play, piercings, and other edgy games, Saucy considered too 'out there' to explore. Capitalizing on her lack of experience in many kinky realms, Bootz whipped out a handful of "cherry cards," explaining that he proffered those cards to christen a scene with a sub who's kinky cherry he managed to pop. Men and their thing for virgins -- what can I say? Heaven forbid the sub's memory of the kinky deflowering wanes with time, a little cherry busting business card stands in for faded memories, poking and prodding until she's flooded with feeling as her mind rewinds and replays her internal recording.

Curious about his cards, Saucy wondered whether this cowboy might pop any of her kinky cherries in the upcoming days. Although she might not have been ready to admit this fully to herself, saucy secretly hoped this would indeed be the case. Ever the cautious one, from suffering one too many crash landings, she was nonetheless mindful about not getting her expectations jacked up too far, only to crash and burn if the fire extinguished before the flames ever roared. Through bumps and bruises (not the fun kind), she has learned to don her cloak of caution when meeting new people, particularly tickling her kinky fancy with their verbal feathers. Saucy knows how easily she can be seduced by a whip smart man, painstakingly prying her open word by word with his ample vocabulary, jaunty turn of phrase, and perspicacity.

Engrossed in their energetic exchange, saucy and Bootz continued their verbal sparring, diving into the dark sea of kink, and swimming around in the murky waters of self-definition, notably, the value of not defining oneself within the parameters of traditional restrictive definitional boxes. The conversation flowed like water from a fountain, continuously, steadily and effortlessly, when suddenly saucy noticed Bootz not so subtly seizing his gaze upon the crystal encrusted red leather collar adorning her neck. Seriousness quickly supplanting levity, he interrogated her about the significance of the rhinestone festooned collar around her neck, the unstated but obvious question being whether or not the collar was ornamental or a symbol of ownership, thus potentially relegating her to 'off limits' status.

Inside, she felt a little giddy that he asked her about the meaning of her collar, as it suggested that he was at least curious about her availability as a potential playmate. She cheerfully explained that the collar was simply decorative, rather than an expression of ownership, and that she is a completely free woman. Although she did not state this aloud, she thinks of herself as "her own Mistress," enjoying her freedom to play as she wishes, with whomever she wishes, whenever she wishes, without the encumbrances and restrictions of ownership.

Her freedom ranks high among her treasured states of being, and she wavers about whether she's capable of, or interesting in giving that away to someone, outside of the context of more circumscribed, negotiated, exchanges or scenes, allowing her to fully surrender, submit, please and obey to her heart's content, only to return to her cherished autonomous state upon conclusion of the scene. Saucy sometimes tells others she could never, would never completely submit to someone in the 24/7 sense, but then again, if she has learned only one important lesson on her journey, it's 'never say never.' So, while she might change her mind some day about belonging to someone or being collared and owned, for the moment, she embraces the freedom she possesses to explore her nature, whatever that looks like, and however that might express itself or evolve as she moves forward on her kinky journey.

Playing it a bit coy or perhaps challenging her to test her perceptiveness, Bootz makes an oblique reference as to whether he too might be owned, but as is her nature, with characteristic cheekiness, saucy chuckled, retorting that it seemed highly unlikely that Bootz would be they type who would be owned by anyone, as he would be more likely to be the one doing the owning, rather than the other way around.

By now, she was thoroughly convinced of his Dominance, even without direct, verbal confirmation from him - -some things are much better felt, experienced in one's pores, between one's legs or as breathing shifts and blood courses about the body signaling arousal, instead tossed about like a ball across the ping pong table - -and Dominance is definitely one of those things. True to her moniker, saucy took the liberty in making her slightly insouciant remark to Bootz about him being more likely to own than be owned himself. Despite the ever more titillating taunting between them, it was evident that the workshop was about to begin, and much to her chagrin, saucy's classroom duties summoned her to action and their delightful dalliance at the back of the room came to an abrupt halt.

Throughout the hour-long presentation, Bootz remained in saucy's visual field, his stately, firm back to her as she stood at her post, like a sentry by the backdoor. Her thoughts meandered about like a babbling brook, replaying their conversation over and over in her mind, musing about what he thought about it - -about her. She wondered whether there was mutual intrigue, or if it was all smoke and mirrors, teasing without intention to cross that line, like so many before him. Saucy didn't think he was a tease and turn, but certainty lacked. Finally the workshop was over and audience members filed out like a band of soldiers and saucy stole another few moments to catch up with him, attempting to suss out his interest in her --was it interest or was he toying with her, tossing her a few table scraps for his amusement.

Feeling emboldened or realizing that she had nothing to lose, saucy steeled herself up, asking Bootz whether he was planning to attend either of the two scheduled fetish balls during the next two evenings. He told her that he was going to hang out that evening with a friend, the instructor for the class she monitored, but that the following night he

might

attend the party. 'Non-committal' of course, saucy thought to herself - -a definite maybe; you gotta love that. Not. They said their goodbyes, and parted ways, saucy with a spring in her step left with wry a smile, secretly anticipating their next encounter.

On her way out of the conference for the evening, saucy passed Bootz momentarily in the hall --he was dressed in a leather California Highway Patrol uniform, looking smoking hot. She almost failed to recognize him when he strode on by, given the considerable shift from his casual jeans and green T-shirt, to the sexy, leather uniform he donned. This sexy image left a searing impression in her brain. Although tired, with achy feet from standing in high- heeled boots all day long, Saucy left the venue with a wicked grin across her face, as she imagined Bootz's adventures that night - -he mind was filled with images of Bootz, formidable in presence, interrogating and handcuffing a little hottie, some unsuspecting, submissive squealing as he torments her. Saucy's mind raced ahead, filling in the prurient details -- if only it could be her, she fantasized.

Of course, saucy didn't know whether or not their paths would again cross while Bootz was still in town, but she refused to let that uncertainty diminish the giddiness coursing through her veins on the heels of their encounter. The next 24 hours whizzed by in a blur and before she knew it, it was time to make a decision about going to the fetish ball. Saucy was conflicted for all kinds of reasons, many having nothing whatsoever to do with Bootz. For one, she was exhausted from that day and from her previous evening and part of her just wanted to kick back with a glass of wine, enveloped in the comforting embrace of a steamy lavender scented bath, the perfect amalgam of ingredients for a soothing solo evening.

Saucy resigned herself to staying home, indulging in wine and a tub filled with fragrant water, and a night of soporific slumber. No sooner did she begin to settle in for her comfort ritual, something started gnawing away at her, pushing her, tempting her from her nest, compelling her to reconsider going to the fetish ball. Like a metronome, these thoughts ticked and ticked repetitively until some internal force seized her like a lightening bolt, jolting her out of stillness and solitude. Impetuously, she decided to forgo the night of quiet comfort and hit up the fetish ball instead.

External appearances aside, saucy is actually on the shy, introverted side of the interpersonal continuum, so the idea of going to a fetish club she has never been to before, without a companion by her side to keep her company or a play partner to amuse her, daunted her. But somehow she managed to summon up the moxie to get her ass off the couch, get dressed, and make her way toward the party. As she quickly dressed, none of her usual pre-fetish party primping, her mind was racing...she wondered if she would see ANYONE she knew there, especially anyone she hoped to see, notably Bootz. Doubt crept in, anxiety kicked up a few notches, leading her to question her decision to go to the fetish ball.

Already dressed and ready to go, doubts nagged at saucy, who contemplated stripping off the body hugging, super low cut boobage revealing, red pvc dress, fishnets, gauntlets, and strappy stilettos, in favor of cotton shorts, a stretchy tank top and the comfort of her cushy couch. Fighting her internal ambivalence, saucy summed up strength to go to the fetish ball, reassuring herself that if she was bored, or tired, or lonely, that she could simply leave the party and it would not be a big deal. With an exit strategy in place, saucy committed to the fetish ball, dashing out the door before her internal antics might once again be the interloper convincing her to stay home.

Arriving at the party, Saucy scans the room --a crowd decked out in fetish garb; perfectly satisfying to her inner voyeur, saucy reassures herself that she could spend the entire night just ogling latex, leather, and vinyl-clad kinksters and leave a satisfied customer! Scoping the sexy denizens of this dungeon, out of the corner of her eye, saucy spots Bootz standing in the corner of the main room near the back of the stage. Tickled by the sexy sight of him, clad in leather pants, a leather short-sleeved shirt, and tall leather boots, saucy's pulse quickened, her heart raced and her face flushed. She felt the familiar signs of arousal coursing through her body, and worried that these telltale signs, obvious to her, would be transparent to him as well --or to anyone else who happened upon her at that moment - -busted. exposed. vulnerable.

Brushing her apprehension under the rug, saucy gripped the reins of her desire, sauntering right up to him without a beat of hesitation in her strident step. Bootz met saucy with outreached arms, grabbing her tightly, locked in a body hugging embrace. The pair hugged and chatted for a few brief moments; Bootz was fretting about needing to find a cracker for his whip, as he was about to single tail a willing victim he corralled. He scurried off to his find a cracker and whip his sub into a frenzy, promising to catch up with saucy later in the evening. She caught part of his scene, which was incredibly intense, given the sub he was beating was taking some pretty heavy hits with the single-tail, without uttering a sound or even flinching from the bite of the whip, but instead, just taking it like a good soldier. After the scene, she saw the marking --an impressive sight to behold. She wondered how anyone could absorb all that pain without flinching or screaming, a skill she has clearly not, and probably never will, master.

After the scene, saucy and Bootz chatted again for a bit, this time talking about possible scenes they might explore together. He explained to her that he was off to do some needle play and he promised to find her later on, to scene. So, saucy worked the room, watched the fashion show, and chatted with various and sundry people, including several male subs who begged her with their entreaties, "Mistress, Please stomp on my toes with your hot, red stilettos." But, OUCH, NO, that's not her scene; she tried assiduously to impress that upon them, all the while wondering why so many male subs were hitting on her at this party. Feeling weary, and tired, she found a place to rest on a makeshift chair that is actually some piece of dungeon furniture. She contemplated how much longer she wanted to stay, as she found herself growing weary, tired, and even a bit bored, but the possibility of playing with Bootz fed her, energizing her flagging spirits, and saucy did not want to eclipse that option by prematurely bailing on the evening.

Pondering her options, she felt a large, firm hand assertively grab hold of hers and she looked up in surprise. The hand was warm, a bit sweaty, and was attached to an arm, that was attached to the body of Bootz. He grabbed her hand, pulling her immediately to her feet, channeling momentum into what she felt was a complete state of torpor; like a civilized caveman, he willingly dragged his captive off into a the corner of a busy play room. Before much even registered in her brain, he grabbed her, held her close in a warm embrace and began tugging her long lustrous locks.

Feeling the strong tug of his hand at the nape of her neck, yanking her hair, she moaned and cooed little pleasure sounds and sunk into his body, deepening their embrace, and stoking the flames of her submissive desires. It was as though he knew, without knowing, that simply by grabbing hold of her hair and pulling while holding her close, saucy would melt and morph into a compliant, obedient, submissive state of being.

How the heck did he know that about me?

she mused silently. But just as quickly, it dawned on her that at least as far as the scene went, she would HIS to use, existing for his pleasure. She felt herself melt, like an ice cream cone on a sultry summer afternoon. In an imperceptible instant, with the tug of her hair, Bootz pushed the magic button inside her, and instantly she was transformed, her own energy morphing, shifting, dissipating until it was his current that ran through her, rather than her own.

From their earlier conversations, Bootz knew how much saucy loved to be taunted verbally, to be objectified, and he used this knowledge to excellent advantage, whispering nasty words in her ears, reminding her of her hunger for cock, for cunt, and all things base, and debased. Bootz stroked her neck, just the way she likes, teased it with his mouth, with little tasty bites, and saucy moved her hair, making space, opening up for him, giving him free access to her vulnerable neck. Being teased like that really lit her up like a roman candle emblazoning the dark night's sky, her nerves firing at rocket speed, electrified flesh.

Without warning, Bootz grabbed saucy's hips hard, yanking her flesh, biting into her neck, marking her flesh with his bites, alternating with soft caresses in the same places; pleasure juxtaposed with pain. Little sounds of pleasure escaped unwittingly from her pouty, red lips. With his firm touch, and his degrading words, he ignited her fire, torching, inflaming her cravings to surrender to his will, to belong to him completely, at least for as long as their scene lasted. For her, that time would stand still, and she would be his, completely. The thing about saucy is that her submission is neither easily, nor routinely elicited; it takes a special kind of Dominant to tap into her submissive energies, unearthing her primal urges to let it go, give it up, surrender to his own primal, raw hunger, existing just for him, an extension of his desires, his pleasures, losing herself in it - - in him.