Lady Angel, leather and lace clad Mistress of Shadows. Sensual with a taste for dominance, Her sexual pets both benefited and suffered under Her teaching. Crop and flogger, handcuffs and shackles were merely tools used in the training She gave to those who came seeking Her guidance. But one was special, a man who both kept Her mentally sharp, and pleased Her sexually. They complimented each other in all aspects of the time spent together.
She took care preparing for the evening's event. First thoroughly scrubbing Her body and hair clean, then with sandalwood scented oil smoothed over every inch of skin. Her crimson hair brushed dry, and then braided into a long tail that hung to just below Her waist. Carefully looking at Herself in the mirror, She saw a woman dressed in a black, leather corset trimmed in lace, thigh-high lace stocking attached by ribbons to a leather garter belt.
Black, over-the-knee, leather boots with five inch heels finished off the ensemble. Her mound left bare, covered by neither leather, nor lace. Only a narrow, shadowy strip of tight red curls gave color to the pale flesh peeking from between smooth, supple thighs.
The sharp click of heels against the marble tiles announced Her progress along the empty hallway. A casual flick of Her fingers dimmed the overhead pot-lights to a level more compatible with the evening's entertainment. The smile that curved lips rouged to a deep wine would have served as a subtle warning to anyone that saw, and knew how well She looked forward to the selection process ahead.
Upon reaching the converted ballroom, She glanced around to ensure that all was in order before taking Her seat on the raised platform that graced one end of the room. When one entered from the other end of the room She would be waiting, almost casually, on a chair carved from a solid length of Oak, illuminated by a pool of soft white light. There was something regal about Her bearing when one looked at Her relaxing on what could only be described as a throne. Something that made you want to kneel and pay homage to Her beauty. Her strength, the barely contained power that seemed to ebb and flow about Her form.
That was what he saw when the doors opened for him to enter the first time. Hair that caught fire as the lights seemed to slither down over the body wrapped in midnight. A look in Her eyes that almost took him to his knees, even before She spoke. And then, Her voice, erotically husky with the faintest hint of a Southern drawl. His penis had swollen as the need to touch Her, taste Her, overwhelmed him. He had been lost and had known he would do anything She commanded from that night forward.
Around the room, six spotlights shown down on six square satin pillows that lined each wall to Her right, and six more to Her left. These places were reserved for Her twelve, the favored ones. The others, those who came merely to see if they were worthy of Her time, would kneel on the cold marble floor. He had been one of the unworthy ones in the beginning. He remembered the ordeal of those days with pride, because he had been chosen from many others.
James had entered Her mansion a clueless fool, assuming he would find the same games and orgies that were to be found in the dungeon clubs New Orleans was famous for. Nothing had prepared him for the demands She would make on him, both mentally and physically. Each task became more difficult than the last. But, as each accomplishment was achieved, She rewarded him. And each session with Her only made him hungry for more. He became insatiable, greedy for every moment of Her time.
And how did she see him, you might wonder? He gave Her great pleasure, and therefore She held him in high regard. He never questioned Her in anything, ever. A word, or look, was all it took for him to take the necessary actions required to fulfil Her every wish. In that, he was the perfect submissive, in all other things, he was the complete opposite. Which explained his being among the few allowed to address Her as 'my LadyAngel'.
Because in Her world, anyone could grovel and show that they were willing to be treated as if they had no value. To belong to Her, one much be strong and courageous, but also intelligent and thoughtful in their actions toward others. This was what the monthly Gathering Weekends were set up for, to weed out the weak and perpetually needy. Thus, the weekend began.
As James entered the courtyard, She slowly stood. Her eyes never left his face as he drew closer to the dais where She waited.
"Good evening, my LadyAngel." as he sank to one knee, and bowed his head.
A faint smile of pleasure lifted the corners of Her full lips. As She reached out one hand, he arose and mounted the steps to stand before Her.
"Good evening, My best loved pet." She said.
A shiver flowed from the warm hand She placed on his chest, and spread rapidly from there to the tips of his fingers, and down to the bare feet peeking from underneath the hem of his black silk ceremonial robe. Her smile merely deepened in pleasure at the full body reaction he always exhibited under Her touch. Her hand skimmed along his body and stopped to lightly clasp the proof of his need. He groaned softly, but remained completely still.
He could never deny Her anything, especially the use of his body for Her pleasure. Her satisfaction would only lead to his own. What more could any man, submissive or otherwise, want?
"Is all in readiness, pet?" She asked.
"Yes, my LadyAngel. Your guests are beginning to arrive. Even now they are gathering in their respective dressing areas, donning the appropriate robes and wondering what You will expect of them." he answered. They both smiled as memories of many such weekends filled their minds.
Her fingers slowly slipped from his body as She returned to the throne-like chair. It was all he could do to stifle the soft sigh of regret. His time with Her would come, of that he had no doubt. He was Her favorite, the only one allowed to kneel beside Her chair on the black satin pillow. The pillow where he even now sank to his knees, signaling the beginning of the ceremony. The oversized double doors swung open and two columns of figures slowly entered.
The first six of each column wore robes of blood red, followed by six more in robes of white. Signifying their lack of knowledge of the world about which they sought to learn. Only two would be chosen this weekend to wear the red of Her students. The chosen would take the place of the two leaving. These two no longer had need of the Lady's instruction. Somewhere out of sight, a gong sounded as the robed figures moved to their designated places, sank to the floor and assumed the correct positions.
The sharp sound of the crop against the calf of Her boot did not draw a reaction from James, although the sound of a faint gasp would be heard from one of the kneeling figures near the closed doors. Something She made note of, and would deal with when it was time to choose. She slowly walked down the steps, and continued between the double rows of supplicants.
Her eyes carefully assessing each bowed head, the arch of each back and the trembling hands that rested against each set of thighs. Only two would 'make the cut' when the evening ended, therefore she could not afford to ignore even the slightest weakness.
"Let the evening begin." She murmured before returning to the platform.
James stood as She reached the top step and moved to stand slightly to Her right, although a step behind. Together they watched as Her students chose from among the supplicants, pairing off for what would be only the first session of a very long, and exhausting, evening. All supplicants would participate in whatever task the red-robed students chose. Whether they were hetro-sexual, bi-sexual or even homo-sexual, those classifications had no bearing here. The Lady would allow nothing less than complete compliance from the supplicant to his, or her, instructor's wishes.
