A Tale of an Upscale Dominatrix
It was quiet in the house as Sonya let herself in, her arms filled with shopping bags, with more set to be delivered to the house over the next few weeks, and locked the door behind herself. She dropped her keys in the bowl on the entryway table and hung her purse on the coat rack, dug out her wallet and removed the black credit card she used today, and slid it into her pants pocket. Checking her phone one more time, watching the surveillance video that's streaming real time from her basement, before making her way through the modern, open concept house and into her bedroom. Once there, she deposited her carefully chosen treasures from today's shopping excursion onto her king-sized bed to be dealt with later.
Sliding her feet out of her high-heeled shoes, she carried them with her to the walk-in closet, depositing them on a shelf, before stripping out of her clothes and pulling on a royal blue silk robe. The color is one of her favorites, as it adds an enchanting contrast to her pale skin, black hair and periwinkle blue eyes. Sonya transfers the credit card to her robe pocket, then takes a few moments to freshen up and add a layer of berry red lipstick to her full lips, before making her way out to the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, she took a couple of bottles of water from the refrigerator and carried them with her to the stairs to the basement. Turning on the dim lights, she made her way down the stairs. She stood for a moment and allowed her eyes to adjust to the low lighting. She heard a slight shuffling sound from the corner of the room and her mouth curled up into a grin. Making her way closer towards the corner, Sonya leaned against the wall, arms crossed under her chest, making her bountiful cleavage even more pronounced.
The shuffling noise Sonya had heard was Patrick, her slave, or more accurately, her client, sliding down to a sitting position in his cage. Granted, there's not enough room for him to get comfortable. He's quite the pitiful sight, with his knees to his chest, the leather sensory deprivation hood laced tightly to his head and an adult diaper being the only things on his otherwise naked body.
Taking one of the water bottles, unscrewing the cap, taking a deep drink, she then steps forward and pours the rest of the cold water left in the bottle over him. Causing him to startle and scream as he futilely attempted to stem the chilly wet tide with his hands to keep it off his skin. She pulled a chair over and sat while she waited for Patrick to calm himself once more. Once he's quieted, she took the key ring from the hook that's on the wall next to the cage and unlocked it while also pushing a dry towel into his hands.
She watched Patrick gingerly unfold himself from the cage and stand in front of it. She tapped his hand three times to let him know to kneel, which he did immediately. Unlacing the leather hood, she slid it off his head. She helped him stand and walked next to him as he got the blood flowing through his limbs once more. Sitting him in the chair she'd just vacated, Sonya hands him the other water bottle, and he takes several sips to slack his thirst, while slowly towel himself off.
She turned a couple floor lamps on to slowly get Patrick's eyes used to the light once more. Sonya kept quiet as she moved about the room, and waited for him to speak to her first, so she knew he'd come all the way back into the present moment.
"Goddess, how long have I been down here?" He asked her in a slightly husky voice.
"You've been down here and locked in your cage for a total of four hours. How are you feeling? This has been the longest session you've been locked up to date," she told him.
"My legs are a little stiff and sore and my feet fell asleep there towards the end, but otherwise, I'm well. Thank you, Goddess," he admitted to her.
She smiled at him as she slipped her hand into her robe pocket, bringing out his sleek black credit card and holding it up to show him. "I bet once you receive the bill from this, you may be a little more than simply stiff and sore. I believe you'll actually feel some pain from the pinch I just put on your wallet." The look of almost near panic that crossed Patrick's face is something that Sonya would cherish for some time to come.
He dropped to his knees, "Goddess, please, may I have my credit card back?"
"If you crawl to me, kiss my feet and grovel well enough, I may think about it," She told him.
"Goddess, please, have mercy on this pitiful excuse for a slave," he said, crawling his way across the cement floor towards her. "I know that you are a benevolent Goddess and wouldn't wish to totally destroy me." He whimpers pathetically, before placing kisses all over her feet.
Sonya looked down at him, seeing his sweat-dampened hair, pale skin that seemed to glow in the dim light and the adult diaper sagging around his waist, and wrinkled her nose.
"You are nothing but a worm at my feet. Get up, clean yourself and get dressed. Once you're more suitable to be within my presence, we'll talk about it again. You know where the shower is, and your clothes are folded right where you left them," she continues as she removes his collar from around his neck. "Meet me upstairs in the kitchen once you are finished."
She left Patrick to do as instructed and went back upstairs. Once in the kitchen, she begins collecting fresh herbs from the kitchen window sill garden, rinsing and drying them before finely dicing them and placing them in separate small bowls. She did the same with the fresh spinach, onion, red pepper and Gouda cheese block from the refrigerator, before taking a few eggs with a splash of milk to mix in a bowl to begin an omelet for our lunch. As she set that in a pan on the stove to cook, she tossed a mixed green salad together with a light oil and vinaigrette dressing.
Just as she plated everything to bring to the kitchen island, Patrick emerged from the basement. Immaculate business suit back on and in place like armor, his thick silver flecked hair combed neatly into place, posture straight and jaw set.
Shutting the basement door behind him, pulling his shirt sleeve cuffs from the edge of his suit jacket sleeves, just so, and straightened his tie. Sonya could already tell that he's spent the time cleaning up, trying to distance himself from the version of himself that she'd first discovered in her basement upon returning, but she won't allow that to happen.
In the four years that he's been a trusted "advisor"/client of hers, she's never once made a homemade meal to share with him, but it's time that they sit down, and check in with each other for ongoing consent within their dynamic. And sitting down over a homemade meal will assist in giving his subconscious a little nudge towards lowering any emotional shields. There is something deeply ingrained in the human collective subconscious about the breaking of bread together and peaceful negotiations. Anyone who believes there isn't an ongoing collaboration between a Dominatrix and her client wouldn't last long in the business.
As the aroma of the freshly cooked eggs and vegetables hit his nose, he turned those sharp, steely gray eyes of his towards her, eyebrows lifted in an expression of surprise. She smiled calmly and gestured towards the stools at the kitchen island.
"Please, have a seat and join me for some lunch," she said as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. "Would you like a glass of Chardonnay?"
"Yes, please." He said smoothly, making his way over, and sitting down, as she placed a plate in front of him. Setting her own plate down next to his, she moved to get two wine glasses and the wine from the refrigerator. Popping the cork, she poured them both a glass. Sitting herself down next to him, her silk robe flashing a great deal of her shapely legs. She handed him a glass, and raised her own in a toast, "Bon appétit!"
Touching his glass to hers and taking a drink of wine, all the while, holding her gaze with his.
"Please, eat and replenish yourself," she says.
Patrick picked up the fork and cut a piece from the omelet before placing it in his mouth and chewing. As she was watching him closely, she caught the flicker of surprise that flashed through his eyes that she could cook very well.
Sonya asked him about how things are going at work, and he told her about the quarterly shareholder's meeting coming up. There's an easy back and forth between them. As she has a double Master's Degree in Business Management and Business Finance, she can keep up with what he's saying quite easily.
"Patrick, you've learned to trust me to know what I'm doing when it comes to spending your money for a good cause and towards the advancement of your own success, yes?" She knows that she's putting him on the spot, but this is important. "You do realize that your good reputation is also tied to my own reputation, yes?"
She didn't look away as his eyes searched hers for any signs of dishonesty or subterfuge. "How much?" he asked simply.
"All told, approximately half a million dollars. Maybe slightly less," she says calmly, still holding his gaze.
She watches as first his face flushed red, then turns pale, "I'm not going to be able to hide that much money from my wife, Goddess."
She shrugged her shoulders, "Call me an independent consultant for the next three months."
Narrowing his eyes at her for a moment, "Fine, but let's keep the spending down to less than fifteen thousand a month, shall we? It will make life much easier for me, which I'd much prefer that it did become easier, Goddess."
"Fine, but this was necessary. You will see once things play out during the next few months."
"Fine. You may keep the black credit card, Goddess." Patrick said.
"Perfect," Sonya calmly said with a slight upward curl of satisfaction on her full lips
Setting his empty plate in the sink, taking out his money clip as he came back towards her, slipping five one hundred dollar bills out, he placed them on the kitchen island next to her wine glass. Taking her hand in both of his, kissing the back of it in devotion, "Until I see you again, Goddess. Please, treat yourself to something nice."
Sonya caresses the side of his strong jaw, with affection. "I'll walk you out."
Walking him to the front entryway, he collected his keys and mobile phone from the bowl and placed them in his pockets. Opening the front door, she watched as he made his way to his Bentley parked in the side driveway. Once she sees him drive off past the curve in her drive, she shuts and locks the door, as well as turning on the security system.
