This is my story and is also published elsewhere.
*****
She had him strip down before he was ever in Her presence. First emotionally, then literally. This inspection was the final step. Did She have a master plan to trap him from the beginning? He would never know and, at this point, he didn't care; all he craved was the slightest glance of attention, a nail to touch him, the glorious object of Her bite. He was nervous and couldn't shake the feeling that he was not worthy.
He had been corresponding with Her for awhile, but he was still astonished at how quickly he became trapped; he needed Her. He needed to please Her. It was arranged that he would arrive, remove his clothing, and walk past the blood red velvet curtain - into what, he wasn't sure. Should he take the red pill or the blue pill?
Arriving, he realized there was no choice to make, for the draw to Her was too strong. Stepping through, he scanned the room. And there She was. Lounging on a chaise, playing with the leather strips of her flogger, she seemed to glow. With her boots covering most of Her skin of leather, her corset topped the look. Gloves. Long glorious gloves. He wanted the pleasure of having them tied around his eyes - maybe as a gag. But that would be Her choice...he was getting ahead of himself.
"Come," she said, without moving. As he moved into the room he heard her voice softly, "spin." He complied and brought his mind back to the fact this this was a job interview, not a simple visit to a dominant woman. He wanted Her as his Mistress.
Finally She rose from the chaise and moved towards him. "I was not expecting your request...do you know what such a commitment entails?"
"Ah, yes, um..." he is so flustered.
"First, you will never address me as anything other than 'Mistress'. Is that understood?"
"Yes Mistress." He looked up in surprise - could that be all it was? Just asking? Was She his Mistress now?
"You will never look me in the eyes unless told do so!" It was the first time that She raised Her voice and, with a quiver, he realized his mistake.
"For the purposes of today you will call me Mistress because that is who I am. The question still remains about whether I'm your Mistress."
"Yes Mistress," he replies, relieved that he had not ruined his chance.
As She walks closer, he sees Her belt in more detail; it seems like it was made for enforcement. Pockets and hooks and everything needed to secure a prisoner. It hangs low on Her hips and he hungrily tries to take stock of what's included. His arousal becomes apparent and, with an electric sting, he feels the flogger whack his balls.
"Strike one."
"Oh shit," he thinks. How was he going to control himself.
"Stand straight and put your hands behind your head."
"Yes Mistress." He is exposed in the middle of the room and the feeling of vulnerability hasn't left. Was he crazy? In Her space asking for Her approval? Why couldn't he walk away? Why did he actually feel physically rooted to the ground?
Stepping closer, She takes a handful of his manhood and a blade materializes by his neck. She must have replaced the flogger with the knife he noticed on her belt. He raises his chin to the slightest degree, but his fingers remain laced behind his head and his back remains straight.
"Good," she purrs.
He is so proud that he almost loses it at that point, but he knows there is more to come. The blade slides down and he realizes, as it reaches his chest, that it's sharp enough to shave. Indeed, some hair comes off. She raises it to her painted lips and blows it off. Feeling Her breath on his chest, he can't resist looking at Her...She's too close and mesmorizing to ignore. He catches the sadistic grin on Her face that reveals Her slightly sharp canine teeth.
What the fuck did he get himself into?
Altering Her grip, She lets go of his gift to Her. Using the tip of Her blade this time, She explores. Down his side, between his thighs, around his ass, between his cheeks, up his back. He can feel the press of Her behind him and he's damn happy She can't see his front getting hard now.
A knee is pushed between his legs, " Spread them." She sounds quiet and clinical almost, but he knows She has the potential to change course in a second. Spreading his legs, he feels Her squat down and feel his inner thighs with her gloved hand.
Up, up, oh shit. She found it. "Well you are a bratty little thing, aren't you?" Pulling down his penis, the pain was excruciating. It wasn't supposed to go that way. As you feel a slipknot placed around your whole package, the throbbing of you heartbeat makes you ache. Suddenly, he lets go of the struggle. It feels so good. The other end of the rope moves through his legs and gets secured to his wrists; There is still some give to it, but he suspected that might soon disappear.
From behind he hears, "On your knees," at the same time he feels her hand pushing him down. In the middle of the room, hands tied, he hears the echo of Her heels click away. His stomach drops. Did he fail? What just happened? Then he hears Her, smells Her, senses Her returning. A blindfold is fitted over his eyes. Child's play. Next noise cancelling headphones are placed on his head. New, but he still knows She's there. She pushes him lower with Her foot until he is almost perpendicular with the ground.
And then he feels her presence over him - Her ankles next to his hips. She crouches and he feels Her hair brush his naked back. The rope between his ass cheeks begins to tighten as he loses control of his arousal. Suddenly, a heavy blanket of plastic wrap is stretched across his face. Her knee pushes between his shoulder blades, and Her arms pull the suffocating wrap back against his face. He can't move. He can't breathe. He was going to die here.
Just as his body weakens and starts to droop, the plastic is removed and the earphones are taken off. Hearing a giggle, he struggles to fill his lungs with air. His penis hardens. "What the fuck is that about? Can't parts of his body communicate with the other?" He gulps in air as he feels Her gloved caress along his jawline and across his neck.
"Good boy. Did you like that?"
