Under His Mistress' Hand

This story is a 40,000 word novella which runs to 16 chapters. It starts as a slow burn but goes on to explore the journey of a novice as he discovers the joys of loving Femdom, and includes, among other delights, spanking with a hand and belt, cropping and paddling, pegging, foot worship, Queening, bondage and suspension. I wrote it as a gift for my real life sub, David, and we hope you enjoy it.

If Femdom is not for you, then please do not continue reading. However, if you like the idea of a powerful woman controlling every aspect of a helpless sub's pleasure, then please read on.

Spanking.

The Mistress, deep in slumber, stirred. Her body, smooth and sinuous as a serpent, undulated sensuously as that seemingly innocent little word wormed its way into her cerebral cortex.

The Mistress' brain chemistry possessed a unique gift, hardwiring the language processing area of the cerebral cortex with aspects causing strong sexual arousal in the temporal lobe - most notably the amygdala, which orchestrated powerful emotions, and the hippocampus that managed her memories. And now that word triggered memories of a helpless, grateful sub draped across her elegant thighs receiving a harsh but loving punishment spanking, and the accompanying emotion is one of...loss.

Even sleeping, she was aware that she had a sub-shaped void in her life and her palm itched to rectify the situation.

Perhaps, now was the time to wake and look for another who might prove himself worthy?

Arousing fully, Kate rolled, arching her back to thrust her berry tipped breasts up to greet the early morning sun. Running her long, slim fingers over her naked skin, dipping between her shapely thighs to tease her pearl, she recalled a time, not so long ago, when she'd had a willing boy to do it for her. How she missed the feel of an eager tongue paying her lip service.

Dressing carefully in black, strappy Agent Provocateur lingerie and sheer black seamed stockings, she slipped on her nude pumps and perused her wardrobe. What to wear? Something understated but elegant. If today was the day to ensnare a new acolyte, then he would come to her. There would be that perfect moment, the meeting of two souls that instantly recognise each other, and they would just know. There was something special, sacred, about the relationship between a Domme and her sub. A mutual trust, adoration, devotion. Each dedicated to the delight of the other, be that emotional or physical, pleasure or pain. Such relationships could be intense, addictive. It was when she felt most alive.

Slipping into a soft knee-length teal wrap dress, she added a statement pendant that drew the eye to her deep, lush cleavage and swept her long, dark hair up in a loose chignon, exposing the length of her pale neck. Picking up her car keys and clutch, she was ready to leave.

Smoothly pulling her car into a parking space outside the antique shop, she stepped out then turned and bent low at the waist to retrieve her clutch from the front passenger seat, pushing her heart-shaped bottom skywards, enjoying the stretch in the muscles in her toned calves. The daily yoga was certainly paying off, she smiled. As she straightened, her mind on the Turkish rug she'd had her eye on, she didn't see the man that she almost bowled over as she turned. His hands went out to steady her elbows as her breasts pressed against his strong chest in a tableau of intimate familiarity.

And in that moment, gazing into each other's eyes, her hands resting against his chest, she knew. Even as he respectfully looked away, blushing as he murmured apologies in his velvety southern twang for an accident that was not of his making, Kate was already making plans.

They had already spent longer than proprietary allowed in this intimate embrace and finally Kate was the one who reluctantly stepped back. It was surprisingly difficult; the feeling of pulling away like the needle of a compass fighting the draw of a loadstone. She knew that with the appropriate tone of voice, the skilled use of polite but insistent word choice, that this man would follow her anywhere. However, that was not how she wanted to form the basis of a meaningful relationship. No, she knew that she must release him and if he followed her willingly, eagerly choosing her over his freedom, then he would be the one, worthy of her investment.

Kate smiled at the man as she stepped back, turning towards the antique shop, her high heels clicking on the pavement as she walked purposefully away, only to hear the soft brush of steps just behind her. Without turning, she continued to the shop, gratified to have a hand reach out to hold the door open.

'After you, Ma'am.'

David's heart was pounding, and, despite the spring chill, his palms were damp. When he'd woken this morning, he'd planned to explore a part of London he'd never been to before, one steeped in maritime history, and intellectually he'd been looking forward to the challenge. However, he'd never expected to meet someone who would invoke in him such a visceral reaction. The moment he'd bumped into this stunning woman, his body had responded to her at an almost cellular level. Clearly, she was attractive -- tall, slim but with killer curves, a couple of which had been pressed quite firmly against his chest. He'd felt her tight nipples through the soft cotton of his shirt and the light scratch of her long, manicured fingernails as she'd steadied herself against his chest. Breathing in her perfume, something subtle, exotic and, he imagined, uniquely her, had brought him even further under her thrall and he'd had to shift his hips away from her to remove the urge to rut up against her long, dress-clad thigh.

But it was more than physical attraction. The way she held herself, the slight play of a smile on her lips more enigmatic than the Mona Lisa, drew him like a moth to a flame. She was a woman who exuded power, control, dominance. She knew what she wanted, and she appeared more than capable of achieving it. There seemed to be a challenge in her eyes and David was ready and eager to rise to it.

Now, David had been raised in Texas by a strong Southern lady and it could be said of him that

'his Momma done raised him real good!'

He was naturally polite and respectful to women, using the term

Ma'am

when addressing them as he was taught as a young boy, and he knew that blurting out a crass pick-up line to a lady this classy would be disastrous, so he desperately tried to think of a way to prolong their time together. But already, she had bestowed him with a smile, then turned and started walking away.

They couldn't part like this! They had shared too much in those few moments to just walk on by, so David followed her and was pleased to see that she was walking towards a little antiques store. This was just the sort of place in which David loved to while away his free time, so he reached for the door and held it open as she entered.

His move caused her to look up at him and they both smiled again, hers showing a hint of satisfaction.

'We meet again,' She held out her hand, 'My name's Kate, it's a pleasure to meet you...' She raised her eyebrow expectantly.

Taking her small, slim hand in both of his, he replied, 'David. And the pleasure's all mine, Ma'am... Kate.'

'Not

all

yours, surely?' she purred, and David swallowed as his mind turned to her pleasure and how he could possibly play a part in that. 'I sense you are not a local. What brings you to this neck of the woods?'

Over the next half hour, the conversation flowed effortlessly, and they both got to know one another better. David explained that he was retired and was spending some time in London, exploring its history, and considering relocating from the Gulf Coast. His children were grown, and he craved something to challenge him and fill his empty hours. Today he'd joined a Pubs and Pirates walking tour to find out more about the darker side of this area of East London. They'd started at Tower Bridge and walked along the Thames to Wapping, talking about the development of trade in the 17th century, but soon he'd realised that his fellow tourists were more interested in the pubs than the history and he'd branched off to explore on his own.

Kate enjoyed listening to David talk. His warm Texan drawl, like melted chocolate poured over gravel, had a sensuous quality that made Kate feel like she was being licked all over and this, coupled with his masculine features, was an enticing package. David looked to be in his early to mid-sixties and was tall, fit and had a quick sense of humour. He carried himself with confidence that suggested a military bearing and she was drawn by his heavy-lidded eyes, hinting at an American Indian heritage. And yet, while he was gentle and respectful, he didn't seem to be naturally submissive. So, a challenge then? Ah yes, Kate was more than ready to bring this Southern boy to heel.

After looking at brass sextants, compasses, and other maritime antiquities alongside something that Kate rather fancied was a Victorian vibrator, a possible purchase she filed away for another visit, she steered David to the rug she had her eye on. It was an intricate weave of gold and turquoise depicting a heavily blossomed tree adorned with exotic birds forming the central panel flanked by a highly decorative border. Apart from the visual appeal, it was the tactile element that really drew Kate. The rug was hand-knotted silk instead of coarse wool, which made it super soft to the touch. And now she wanted David's opinion. She could picture him, naked, kneeling on the rug looking up to her for instruction and she wanted to see if, at any instinctual level, he could imagine it too.

Kate explained that her apartment had a private lift and she had been looking for a small rug that would fit this space. It was an important position as it served as the first impression of her home. In many ways, it would indicate to guests what to expect when the doors opened to her living space. It was so important, she thought, that her visitors entered her home in the right mindset.

David ran his hand along the soft, aged fibres and shivered. The pile was like velvet -- short and luxuriously soft, and, as his fingertips slipped between the threads, they were caressed as they stroked trails along the design. How would that feel against other areas of his body? And, with such a sensuous tactile experience at his fingertips, his mind went to other regions he could be caressing.

With the purchase made, David offered to carry the rug to Kate's car, and it felt natural to invite her to lunch, neither wanting their time together to end. Not knowing the area, Kate drove him to a nearby pub, parking a short walk away in an exclusive residential parking bay.

The Prospect of Whitby

, Kate explained, was the oldest riverside tavern in London, dating back to 1520. It was formerly known as

The Devil's Tavern

, due to its dubious reputation as a meeting place for sailors, smugglers, cut-throats, and thieves. Samuel Pepys and Charles Dickens were known to have supped there and its historical lineage was further commemorated when views from the pub were immortalised by both Whistler and Turner.

The food was exceptional, and David indulged in a traditional steak and ale pie with beef dripping gravy and triple-cooked chips, while he was delighted to see Kate relish her beer-battered Atlantic cod, Whitby scampi and traditional sides of chips, mushy peas, and curry sauce. My god, he thought, this was a woman with appetites who did not deny herself the pleasures of life.

David was not a big drinker, inheriting his alcohol intolerance from his American Indian DNA, but today was special, so when he ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio for Kate, he treated himself to a Bowmore single malt which he sipped appreciatively as he sat in comfortable silence next to this beautiful woman.

They were out on the deck, sharing one of the warm fleece blankets that the pub provided to protect their patrons from the stiff breeze off the water. The length of Kate's thigh was pressed against his, and her hand was on his knee. Perhaps it was an innocent gesture, one she didn't even realise she was making, but for David it felt like a red-hot brand of ownership claiming his flesh as hers. A claim that he was more than happy to honour.

As they watched the river traffic from their vantage point, looking out past the algae-covered groynes uncovered by the low tide, the Thames moved ever onwards.

As the afternoon rolled around into dusk, the weather got colder and the start of a light shower drove them out of the pub, which was now starting to fill with rowdy evening customers. David used his jacket to shelter them both as he ran in the direction of Kate's car, but she linked her arm through his and steered him past the parking area to a smart red door in what looked like a large, brick-built warehouse. Retrieving her key from her clutch, she unlocked the door, leading to a short foyer containing coat hooks and shoe storage and a single silver door.

Summoning the lift, Kate smiled up at him. 'Welcome to my home.'

The lift door slid open with a sibilant hiss revealing a sleek interior of stainless steel and smoked glass mirrors. The red light blinking in the corner giving an indication of how much she coveted her privacy and security. Or possibly hinted at voyeuristic tendencies?

'Can you imagine how well my little rug will fit into this space? How warm and welcoming it will be to my visitors?'

Oh yes, David could imagine. If he were lucky enough to be invited to her apartment again, the rug would be the first thing he saw. And how well it complemented this extraordinary woman -- delicate, classy, exotic, sensuous.

'Seems a shame to stand on something so beautiful,' he replied, regretfully.

Her arm still linked around his, Kate leaned closer, her breasts brushing his bicep and her lips a whisper away from the sensitive shell of his ear, 'Then, maybe you should be kneeling, don't you think, David?'

He sucked in a breath. There was something unbearably erotic about the way she breathed his name, her breath warm and moist, the length of her body pressed against his. And then, those words, the intent behind them! David felt his knees buckle and he would have slid down to her feet in supplication if she hadn't been holding his arm. His pupils widened as his eyes locked on hers, which held a seductive mischief, her eyebrows and the corner of her lips raised provocatively.

She was testing him, and he wasn't going to fail.

'Yes, Ma'am,' he answered sincerely.

David knew that this was the right answer when Kate's face lit up in a radiant smile before settling into a rather less playful mask. 'Then why don't you show me how that might look, pet?'

All of David's blood rushed south as her stern gaze and use of the honorific made it very clear what she wanted from him. David had always taken on the dominant role in all his relationships. He was a protector by nature and felt that it was his role to ensure the lady in his care was safe, well-loved, and well provided for. However, that same dedication to his duty also made him intrigued by female-led dynamics. There was a part of him that was just in awe of women, ready to gladly serve.

He'd dabbled with Femdom erotica, and while he was intrigued by the punishments, he had always felt there was something missing - some mutual respect, trust, love? He'd seen and read about cruel Dommes waling the tar out of their helpless submissive, and the guy had to just keep quiet and take it. And if he did, afterwards, what was his reward? Oftentimes he was treated with contempt. That wasn't a relationship in David's mind; in fact, it felt more like abuse. No, that wasn't at all what he yearned for.

But to be dominated by a firm and loving Mistress, to submit unreservedly and completely to her judgment and place himself fully into her hands, knowing he could trust her not to crush him? Yes, that right there, was what he desired more than anything else in his life.

Without wasting another moment, David sank to his knees, sitting back on his heels. He tried to remember the pose that the subs had adopted in the porn he'd watched. Aware that Kate was watching him closely, he shuffled his thighs apart further and placed his hands on his knees. Now, should he be gazing down respectfully, or looking up to her for instruction? He couldn't look away, so his eyes locked on her face to see if his display had pleased her.

Kate thrilled with desire as she saw David sink into his role so seamlessly. She didn't know if he'd had any experience of submitting to a powerful woman, but in his eyes, she saw such a well of hope, longing, lust, that she knew this is where he truly belonged.

'Very nice, pet,' she purred as she stroked his cheek and along his jaw.

David's skin tingled at her touch, and he nuzzled into her palm for a moment, revelling in her praise and thrilled that he had pleased her.

'Just think how it will feel when my rug is beneath your knees, and you are unburdened by all these clothes.'

David experienced a moment of panic. What was she saying? Did she want him naked?

Kate knew that the best way to sooth a skittish sub was to continue to give very calm, clear instructions so there was no doubt about her expectations. Of course, this was all new to David and would likely push him right outside his comfort zone, however, it was what he craved more than air itself and it was her job to ease him into the lifestyle that he so desperately wanted.

'Yes, pet. Every time you visit me, you will remove your clothing in the foyer and enter my lift naked. Then you will press the button to my apartment and adopt this position - thighs spread, back straight, hands on your knees and head bowed. I will not expect you to be bound or blindfolded; I trust that you have enough self-restraint to keep your eyes cast downwards and your hands where I direct them.'

Okaay, thought David, that was pretty clear. If he wanted to back out, this would be the time. He had less than a week left of his vacation and he'd had some vague plans about exploring other tourist haunts in London, but really, that all felt so superficial, so banal, compared to what he was experiencing right now.

He didn't quite know how he'd stumbled into this position but now he was here he was going to dive in with both eyes open and live, love, every minute of it. And so, there was only one possible answer.

'Yes, Ma'am.'