Sub

He stood back to let her through.

'I'll take a whiskey on the rocks,' she purred over her shoulder, skirts swishing around her perfect legs.

'Yes Mistress.'

As he searched through his cupboards for a glass suitable for his Queen, she sat behind him, watching his ass. It was not plump. It was not overly muscular. It was of the perfect level of tightness that engendered thoughts of her pulling down his trousers and inserting her hot cerise tongue into his hairy secret hole. An ass like that was honed in only one way -- lots of regular strong orgasms. She suspected his abs would tell the same story; toned beautifully by him being such a dirty gorgeous boy.

He handed her a double whiskey and ice in what he hoped was an acceptable vessel.

She didn't even look at it. She sipped and never took her eyes off him. It felt like he was being burnt by laser beams. He didn't know whether to stand or kneel. Sit or prostrate himself.

'Can I get you anything else Lady Sheba?'

She pursed her lips and his balls attempted a retreat into his quivering body.

'I'd like to see you naked.'

Wordlessly, he stripped, placing his clothes in a semi folded heap by the fridge.

He stood awkwardly, hands clasped in front of his wrinkly shrunken phallus.

'Very nice,' she smirked.

'Thank you Miss.'

'And are you feeling better?'

'I am.'

'Good.'

'Then go and fetch the collar. The one I sent you. Now.'

He hastened to do her bidding but before he managed two steps, her hand stung his buttocks. She gripped him from behind, pulling her to him as he gasped.

'What did I do wrong?'

'Mistress wants you on your knees, you fucking cunt. Crawl,' she said through gritted teeth.

Horrified he had displeased her, he obeyed, on the verge of tears.

'On my lap,' she said, when he returned. She patted her silken skirts. He draped himself over her, wondering what to expect. He'd been a good boy. Hadn't he? He was trying his best.

He closed his eyes and waited.

She affixed the collar almost tenderly. Her palms skated over his body, exploring what was hers.

'MINE!' she growled, pinching his buttocks with both hands.

Using those very same hands, she spread him open, made him visible to her, nothing withheld and drawing up every drop of available moisture in her mouth, she spat forcefully onto his puckered hole.

'Whose is this?' she demanded, rubbing her saliva inside his dusky pinkness.

'Yours,' he said, gripping a handful of his lady's skirts in his left fist.

'Turn over,' she said brusquely. 'On your back. On the floor. Now.'

He did so.

She ran a finger across his lips.

'Open. Open your mouth, Sheba's Bitch. Let me see how obedient you are.'

He did. And his now rampart erection attempted to mimic her actions. As she spat into his open mouth his cock squirted a gush of crystal clear precum.

She crooned softly, fingers playing lazily with his secretions. He lay there, helpless to her explorations. Surrendered to his Mistress. Ready for whatever she desired.

'Is this mine?' she said, hold up a string of his liquid to the light.

'Yes my Lady. I want you to have it, if it pleases you.'

She smiled and slipped her finger into her soft beautiful mouth.

'This is just the entree,' she told him. 'I'm ready for the main course.'

He struggled to think what she might mean.

She explained promptly.

'I see you have the necessary ingredients for an espresso martini -- one of my favourite drinks,' she grinned wickedly. 'You are to create me a special version -- a cum espresso martini. I want to watch you wank. Let me see how much you appreciate your status as Mistress Sheba's Bitch. Go. Get on with it. I'm very thirsty tonight, Fin. Milk yourself for me.'

He must have pleased her quite well because the following day he received instructions to open the next box.

This box was larger than the rest. He sliced open the tape with a stanley knife blade and unfolded the cardboard flaps. His heart skipped a beat as he fumbled with the contents and packaging. Inside was a shiny black gimp suit complete with black boots.

Was it even his size? He held it up and discovered there was a hole, presumably for his penis to poke through, directly over the crotch area. At the back was a detachable panel; what that was for, he daren't think. His phone buzzed with an incoming text message from Sheba.

'Have you opened it yet, Sub?'

'I have Ma'am. It's beautiful. They're beautiful. Thank you.'

He stroked the material and thought about wearing it for her.

'I'll be picking you up at eleven thirty. Wear the suit and boots. I want the large butt plug in your ass. Collar on.'

Suddenly he didn't feel quite so thrilled about the gift.

'You mean you want me to wear this out in public?'

There was a long pause. The minutes seem to stretch and stretch.

He'd gone and annoyed her again.

Damn it Fin!

'Do you trust me?' she texted eventually.

'Yes Mistress. If I didn't, I wouldn't be yours.'

'Then act like it. I'll be there at eleven thirty sharp.'

He fretted all day. What if somebody saw him dressed like that? What if he got arrested? It could certainly happen if he walked around with his cock hanging out. His career would be over. She didn't seem concerned in the slightest. He had a horrible feeling she wanted him to be worried -- well on edge anyway. He felt the need to talk to someone. But that was out of the question. Nobody knew about the alternative life he led, let alone that he had a Domme named Bathsheba.

Instead he went for a run. The streets were slick with rain, so they were less busy than usual. He plodded past cafes and eateries full of 'normal' couples eating and drinking; chatting. It was unlikely they would be dressed in head to toe latex tonight, with their privates exposed. Did he envy them? His throbbing cock said not. With the endorphins pumping through his veins, his worry about tonight was receding and in its place a ticklish curiosity was developing. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine Sheba would have appeared at his door, as she had last night. Never did he imagine she would desire to drink his ejaculate, like it was the finest cocktail at the Ritz.

He recalled her lips sipping his offering -- the nerves he felt, in case it was not to her liking. When she took a deep gulp and sighed, he nearly fainted in relief. He didn't mind at all when she ordered him to serve as her footstool, perching her dainty heels on the most uncomfortable place on his spine as she enjoyed her personally concocted refreshment. His Mistress deserved everything he could give her.

He'd be wearing that suit tonight and everything else she asked.

And so she found him thus attired standing sheepishly behind the door at half eleven.

Once again, she was a revelation. She was wearing a full on, very authentic looking pirate outfit, complete with a very real looking musket.

'You look well,' she said, striding round him in thigh high leather boots. She lifted away the flap covering his backside, to check he hadn't forgotten the plug.

'Good boy,' she said, slapping his arse. Her other hand homed straight in on his left nipple and gave it a vicious twist.

'Right let's go.'

She attached a turquoise leash to his collar and led him out to the car; a Bentley limousine.

'Take us to club Midnight please John,' she said to the driver in front.

Fin unconsciously placed his clasped hands over his wilted cock and watched the area of town he was comfortably familiar with disappear.

In the darkness of the car, she leaned forward and smacked his hand away.

'If your dick needs to be hidden tonight for any reason, I'll be taking care of it. Do you understand?'

She tipped his chin with her indigo blue nails, forcing him to look at her. She let go and raked a singular nail over his pathetic bell end.

He hissed in discomfort.

'Yes Ma'am.'

In the rear view mirror of the car, the driver met Fin's eyes with a brief look of sympathy.

'Good,' laughed Sheba. 'There will be no room for bashfulness tonight. Since this is your first visit to club Midnight, you will be getting christened.'

'Christened?'

'Yes Sub.'

From the driver's seat, John cast him another look of brotherly compassion.

Oh fuck. What the hell have I let myself in for? Thought Finlay.

Sheba leaned back and took a photo of him. He blinked and watched her send it to some mystery recipient. For the next fifteen minutes, her phone chimed non-stop.

She grinned as she scrolled through her replies.

'Oh Fin...they really like you and can't wait to meet you.'

This time he never bothered to look at John. He knew what he would see. He just gazed at the floor and wondered who these people were waiting for them at the terminus of their journey and in the name of all that was holy, what she was going to let them do to him.