i glance at my watch as the elevator door opens, and note that i am only a few minutes early. Being careful not to intrude before my appointed time i loiter for a few minutes near the elevators on her floor, and then walk slowly down the hall. Pausing before the apartment, i exhale slowly and, as the second hand sweeps across the 12, i knock on her door, two firm raps, decisive, but not impatient.
Moments pass, my breathing shallow as i try to concentrate and listen for movement inside the apartment. A faint clicking, heels on hardwood perhaps, growing louder.
i hear the locks being undone, and then the door swings wide. I stand there quietly, as she inspects me, hoping for her approval.
"I suppose," she says quietly, then continued; "Come in, and close the door."
i follow her inside, and as i close and lock the door for her she walks away, into her living room. Shyly I follow, pausing at the end of the short entry hall and i take in the room and her loveliness. The room is tastefully decorated, comfortable furnishings, like a gentleman's club, with a delicious mixture of old-world style overlaid with a decisively feminine hand. Striking accents counter the masculine styling of the principal pieces, classic armchairs and other furniture now owned by the daring and feminine touches that complete the room, clearly indicating which gender is in charge here.
Miss Tox stands there, beautiful, confident, and clearly in control of our situation.
"Well?" she says.
Obediently, i whisper, "Yes Ma'am."
From the inner pocket of my jacket i remove a small envelope and hand it to her and then return to my place near the hall.
I wait quietly, watching her slice open the envelope with the edge of one long red thumbnail. As she reads the note, i breath deeply and admire her. Miss Tox is dressed in a white silk blouse, long-sleeved and high collared, the buttons at her throat are open, and although i can see that she has unbuttoned the blouse to her cleavage, the shape of the collar keeps her skin covered from my curious eyes. A medium grey sheath skirt, knee-length gives her the appearance of a very sexy and controlling librarian. Her legs are clad in smoky grey hose, and on her small feet are shiny black pumps with 3-inch steel stiletto heels.
"Well, well," she says after looking up from the note, "It seems Domina Laurie has given me certain permissions. You may give me the second item now."
I loosen my tie, and open the neck of my shirt. From around my neck i lift the leather cord, and pull into view a small brass key. Stepping forward i place this key and its cord into Miss Tox's hand. She smiles as i hand over the item that signifies my submission to her.
"Strip," the instruction comes clearly and without room for debate.
She walks away down a side hallway while i remove my clothing. Carefully i drape my suit over the back of a nearby chair, and fold and pile my remaining clothing on the chair seat. Standing there, naked, i wait. Momentarily, Miss Tox returns and pauses before me. She inspects me from head to toe, pausing only to examine the cage locked on my cock, the CB-3000 ensures that any attempt to become erect will be strongly discouraged. She smiles and dangles the key from her hand.
Turning on her heel, she directs; "Pour me something nice, neat, and join me on the balcony."
Looking around i see a sideboard. A variety of distinctive bottles are arranged on one tray, and a matching tray holds glasses and an ice bucket. Scanning the bottles i see a few scotch brands that i recognize, and others with which i am not familiar. Knowing she is waiting, i choose quickly, the Oban, pour about two ounces into a glass, and follow her to the open screen.
Nervously i step onto the balcony, unsure of how exposed i will be.
"Don't be shy," she says, "I am thirsty, and you need to be massaging my feet."
Ignoring the building across the way, convincing myself it is too far for anyone to see me, and the solid railing is high enough, i step out into the sunshine. i hand her the glass, pausing as she inhales the liquor's rich scent, then sips and smiles.
She indicates the end of the lounge at her feet and i sit, facing her and straddling the chair. She has slipped off her shoes, and I watch as she draws the hem of her skirt up her shapely legs.
Stopping just as the tops of her hose come into view, she looks up at me and says, "Take off my stockings. You will find some massage cream in the basket under the chaise."
Nervously i reach forward and carefully unhook each garter strap. i slowly roll her stockings down her thighs, one after the other, over her shapely calves and off her small feet. I place the rolled stockings on the cushion beside her legs.
Leaning over i spot and reach for the basket. Inside i find a familiarly shaped yellow tub, Body Shop massage cream, in a delicate vanilla scent. Opening the cream, i dip my fingers into it and, lifting one of her feet, begin to slowly coat it with the cream and massage it into her heels, sole, toes and ankle. Slowly, carefully, i ensure that every bit of her foot receives equal and thorough treatment. From there i gently work my way up her calf. My slick fingers sliding along the muscles of her leg, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin as it absorbs the cream under my touch. Alternating between massaging fingertips and sweeping caresses of my large strong hands , i work my way as far as the hem of her skirt, which remained raised to the level of her stocking tops.
"That's far enough," she said as my fingertips reached that point. And i paused, completed rubbing in the cream on her lower thigh, and returned to begin with her other foot.
Repeating the slow process, i massaged her other leg to the same point as Miss Tox relaxed with her scotch. Reaching the limit se had established, i gently lowered her leg back to the chaise cushion and softly caressed her feet with my cream covered hands.
"Very nice," she pronounced.
