This...

That evening and over the next few days and evenings, I settled into the pace Mistress was setting for me.

I cleared the walls in what was now Her bedroom of all the artwork and stored them away in the attic. I switched out the linens on the bed in the guest room. And I got used to sleeping in my new pet bed. Honestly, it was pretty comfortable, once I got used to it. I either took my lunch to the office or begged her permission by text to eat lunch out. She never refused me, though sometimes she instructed me where to go and what to order; lest I harbor any thought of disobeying, the first time she made me take a picture of the meal with my phone and send it to Her. I was relieved that I'd ordered exactly and only what she had specified.

When I begged for permission to go the gym to workout, she asked for details about which gym i belonged to and what my normal workout routine was. With those details, she said she'd get back to me shortly. Several days later, she called to tell me that I was to cancel my existing gym membership, because she had enrolled me in another, better one. After giving me the address and my new membership information, she informed me that she'd also signed me up to work with a trainer, three mornings a week. my first session was the next day at 6:00 a.m.; she warned me in a stern tone not to be late.

One afternoon, I got a call from my cell phone carrier. The customer service representative wanted to confirm that I was cancelling my current plan, transferring the phone to another account, and agreeing to parental controls on the phone. I stammered through my agreement and acceptances, babbling some invented rationale about giving the phone to one of my kids, as though the service guy cared.

Several minutes after I'd hung up with the phone company, Mistress texted me.

"In case it's not clear, I now control your phone like I control the rest of your life."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied.

"You have a lot of contacts. You'll be deleting most of them and blocking some. I'll give you the list later."

"Yes, Mistress." After that, there was no reply.

The next day, I came home from work and noticed the lingering aroma of Her perfume as soon as I'd walked through the door. I quickly went to every room to ensure that She wasn't there, waiting for me.

When I had assured myself that She wasn't, I went back through the house more carefully. In the main bedroom, I saw that She had hung several original oil paintings. The most striking was a large, brightly colored, fall landscape by an artist she would later tell me was regionally prominent. One the dining room table, arranged side by side were three paperback books, in the female domination genre: "Lyon On A Leash," "Slave to Surrender," and "The Correct Sadist." i was familiar with the first one, but not the other two. As I read the cover description of "Slave to Surrender," the phone rang buzzed; it was Mistress.

"Good evening, Mistress," I answered, kneeling as I did so.

"Hello, lee. You are home?" She asked a question She knew the answer to.

"Yes, Mistress. And I see you have been here, too."

"Yes, I have. Go to the guest bathroom."

When I had arrived there, she continued. "I have disposed of many of your toiletries, which didn't suit me. In particular, I did not like your cologne. I have replaced it with Bond No. 9." She paused a moment. "You may smell it."

I opened the bottle and held it to my nose, breathing in the blend of citrus, sandalwood, and green leaves.

"Do you like it?" Mistress enquired.

"Yes, Mistress, I do. It has a rich, complex aroma."

"Good. I expect to smell that -- and only that -- on you every time we meet, boy. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good boy. I want you to take note of the name, too. If you didn't know, that word, 'bond,' comes from medieval English. It refers to one who is unfree, a serf, belonging to another. Seems appropriate for you, doesn't it, lee?"

"Yes, Mistress, very appropriate," even though she couldn't see me, I suspect Mistress knew that my cheeks were bright red.

"Now, go to the guest bedroom."

As I walked there, Mistress continued. "I have upgraded your wardrobe a bit. How you look will now reflect on Me, so I want a more stylish look on you. I've discarded some of your suits and most of your sports coats. And I have replaced them with styles I like better." As I opened the closet, I saw She wasn't kidding. My older, more traditional suits had largely been substituted with stylish, contemporary cuts.

"I think I got the size right," Mistress said, "but I've made an appointment with my tailor for you to have them fitted. I'll send you the details later. I've got some shirts on order for you; I want you in a more tailored cut. Go to the dresser."

When I had done so, Mistress continued. "Open the underwear drawer. You will see that I've thrown out your underwear. No more cotton boxers and tee shirts for you, my boy. You'll wear silk next to your body. Now, the sock drawer."

When I opened that drawer, I saw that my unruly collection of dress socks in various colors had been replaced by a neat, orderly row of seven black socks and three white work out socks. "Look at them closely, lee." I picked up several of the pairs of socks and examined them. "You'll see that each sock has a D/s symbol woven into." She was right, one pair had a triskelion in a gray pattern; another had the "black and blue" D/s flag; another had grey circle surrounding an upward pointing arrow, which I knew to be the symbol for a male submissive who has been "spoken for." "None of these symbols is terribly overt, lee, so the socks are safe for work and work outs. But I'll know ... and you'll know ... and friends of ours in the lifestyle might notice. We will worry about your tastes in shoes later."

"Now, boy," Mistress began to draw O/our conversation to a close, "unless there's anything else on your mind, I think that's enough for you to digest in one evening."

"No, Mistress, I have nothing else."

"Good. I want you to eat light for dinner tonight. A salad and a smoothie, I think will be enough. I want you to look good in the new outfits I got for you. But, if you're still hungry after that, you may call and beg for more."

"Thank You, Mistress."

"lee, you may also begin to read the books I left for you. I will want to know what you liked and didn't like about each. Your reactions may give me some ideas."

"Yes, Mistress."

"It's been a busy week for Me, lee. The weekend should be quieter and I'm making plans for U/us to spend some time together."

"I certainly look forward to that Mistress."

"Yes, boy, I know you do. Now, go eat, go read, go think about this, and I will see you in a couple of days." The line went dead before I could get out, "Thank you, Mistress."

Before I went to fix my light dinner, I looked more carefully at the items Mistress had purchased for me. The socks worried me at least a bit, so I didn't focus too much on them, other than to try to see how obvious the D/s weavings were for a distance. The suits were impressive, two by Jil Sander, two by Lanvin; all four dark, trim, modern. Not only did they represent a substantial upgrade to my wardrobe, but a significant change in my look. What had Mistress said about marking what she owned?

As I fixed my evening salad, two thoughts occurred to me, one whimsical, one more serious. First, I didn't think it a coincidence that Mistress had chosen for me to wear suits by female designers. Jil Sander I knew to be a woman, and a quick search on my phone let me know that Lanvin had been founded by Jeanne Lanvin. Mistress wanted me in clothes that expressed a female style sense ... and that brought a smile to my lips. Second and more seriously, I wondered how much Mistress had spent on my new raiments. It had to be in the thousands. That not only flattered by reassured me. If Mistress was spending this much on me, this didn't seem to be a scam.

With that reassurance, I ate my salad, drank my smoothie, started reading "Lyon On a Leash," and turned in early. I had an early date with my trainer at the gym the next morning.

The next evening, Mistress called. After I had filled Her in on my workout and my day and she'd given me a brief update on her busy week, she asked: "lee, do you trust me enough to take another step forward in this?"

"Yes, Mistress, I think so."

"Good. I assume you have a personal e-mail account you use for credit cards, banking, paying bills, and the like?"

"Yes, Mistress, a gmail account."

"And you run all of your personal business through that e-mail?" she enquired.

"Yes, Mistress."

"And you don't have any other e-mails that you use for personal matters?"

"No, Mistress."

"I would like for you to trust me enough to give me access to that e-mail account. I won't require it. I won't make it a condition of U/us continuing this," she said, measuring her words. "But I would like for you to allow this. I think you know that it's not money that I want ... it's control. I want to know, and to control, who you e-mail with, what shopping you do on-line, what you spend your money on. Will you do that for me?"

I had actually been expecting this for some time. My trust in Mistress and in whatever it was we were doing had been growing since we'd met. And her generous gifts the night before had further cemented my trust. So, I replied, after only a moment's thought, "Yes, Mistress, I will."

"Good boy," she said, the pleasure obvious in her tone. "As soon as we've finished, you are to text me the e-mail address and password. Then you are not to get back on your e-mail until I give you permission to do, probably sometime tomorrow. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"One more thing, lee, about this weekend. I've decided that on Saturday evening, we'll be dining at your house. I will send the menu later. You'll have a chance to impress me with your culinary skills." Then she added, almost casually, "I may or may not spend the night."

"Yes, Mistress," this time my tone betrayed my pleasure.

"Good night, lee. Sweet dreams, think of me, and send me the information I asked for." And with that, she hung up.