My Stepmothers Firm Hand Pt 04

A few words of introduction to this chapter:

As usual, I would like to present to you a short continuation of reflections on "various scenes from the life" of leather boots and gloves. There may be too much of it at some points, but this is a "fetish" story. If this seems like too much, please forgive me. And so as not to disappoint anyone here, today there will be fewer kinky scenes, but more... hmmm?... philosophy? thoughts???... But if any of you, dear readers, are close to this topic and see beauty in it, I invite you to read it.

Also included, as requested in one of the comments to the previous chapter, is a short flashback on Jack's evolution from stepson to slave/servant.

***

The day of my birthday, and also the day on which Theresa and Karin's visit to our home, planned by my Mistress Elizabeth, was to take place, was approaching inevitably. Without a doubt, the highlight of this visit and this celebration will be the humiliating displays of my service and the play of three Dominatrixes above me in the cozy laundry room where various bdsm practices have already taken place. But will this be my holiday that I should look forward to? What surprise do these lovely Ladies have in store for me?

The ordered gloves and riding crops, which are to be my surprise gifts for Theresa and Karin, which I am to present to them solemnly and which are to give them so much pleasure, have just been delivered by the courier. I was tempted to open the package, but I decided against it. I knew I might annoy Elizabeth with this, because she might want to see its contents first. So I thought it would be better if I waited until she got home and then I could show her the purchases.

Just like every day when I'm back home before my Lady, I waited for her to return, standing by the window and watching her car approach. Today, from what she told me in the morning before leaving, she had planned a dinner with her colleagues from work in some fancy restaurant, combined with women's gossip. After finishing classes at the university, I also got something to eat in the city and quickly returned home. So I got cooking dinner for the two of us over with, cleaning up too, and I could only focus on waiting for my beloved Mistress.

My Stepmother didn't come back for some time. Apparently the meeting with friends was extended. I had been waiting under the window for over two hours. We lived on a not busy street, so nothing happened. You could say it's completely boring. As the sun began to set, I finally saw a flash of headlights in the distance. Yes, it was her luxurious new black Porsche she had just purchased. Just the thought of seeing her again made my heart beat faster and faster.

I turned off the light in the room so that I could watch her calmly as she got out of the car and at the same time so as not to be exposed by her myself. She drove into the parking spot and stood with the back of the vehicle to the window where I was standing. She turned off the engine but left the lights on. I waited a few more minutes. Eventually they also went out. Elizabeth opened the door. She stuck her left leg out in a burgundy knee-high boot with a high heel and gracefully placed her foot on the paving stones.

She sat there for a few more seconds. She then raised that divine foot literally a few centimeters above the ground, extending it even further outward. She was most likely reaching for something in the passenger side glove compartment. Maybe get some gloves to put on her hands? But probably not, after all, a woman as classy as her puts on gloves before starting the engine or even before entering the car and then drives it in them, so she's definitely already wearing them.

After a moment, she put her foot back on the ground, put her other leg out, and got out. Today, her outer clothes were dominated by only two colors: beige and burgundy. Only the coat reached to mid-thigh with the popped collar was beige. The rest is just a burgundy accessory, i.e. the previously mentioned boots, as well as: a satin scarf, a hat, and a leather bag. Even the tight, knee-length leather skirt that peeked out from under the coat was burgundy in color. And, of course, the most important thing apart from the boots: burgundy leather gloves.

My Lady, slamming the door behind her and pulling on one of her gloves, walked to the trunk. She opened it and leaned over to take something out, bending her right leg at the knee sexily. I always like how she does it. After removing the small package, she pressed the car key with her gloved hand and headed for the front door of our house. The trunk lid lowered slowly, slammed shut, and the car's turn signals flashed as a sign that the vehicle's central locking was closed.

I ran quickly like an obedient doggy to the front door to greet her humbly as befits her servant. The tapping of her boots' heels as they made quick steps on the granite steps of the outside stairs became louder and louder. When she opened the door, I was faithfully waiting there. She looked stunning. Her beautifully painted face with delicate wrinkles greeted me with a smile.

"Good evening, Mom. You look beautiful today. How was your day?" I also greeted her with a smile.

"Good evening, darling. Ah... thank you. Perfectly." She replied, smiling all the time and, as usual, greeting me with her gloved hand to kiss.

I know, I know. You will soon say that something is wrong here: 'What? After all, in the previous chapter there was already a Mistress-slave relationship, and now suddenly they call each other 'Mom' and 'darling' again?'

Hmm... well... they say that a woman is fickle. A woman may have mood swings that can change dynamically, like the weather in March in Europe. One moment it's raining with snow and strong wind, and the next it's quiet and the pleasant sun is shining.

My Mistress is just such an example of a "typical" woman who can have "moods" and "moods". She has already achieved a lot in her life. She is a successful woman. And what's most interesting, in her private life she is interested in femdom, as evidenced by her dressing style and the way she likes to dominate me. She has the lap of luxury that I, not being her natural son, have shown her that I can be an attractive, male object of femdom desire for her.

And she, on the other hand, has the lap of luxury of not being my birth mother, but my stepmother, so she can allow herself to freely dominate me without any inhibitions related to the generally understood maternal instinct and to the extent that she deems appropriate. But it's all within the scope of a healthy relationship between us, between adults who agree to such fun.

But our life is not only femdom 24/7. Yes, there are more intense periods when I am her toy, when my Stepmother even abuses me, and the degree of this intensity depends only on her. I, of course, have nothing to say here. But there are also periods like this, like today, when nothing happens, when she has no desire to dominate me, when the only symptom of femdom is kissing her gloved hands when greeting or saying goodbye or polishing her boots before leaving home and nothing else.

And it is in such periods that we become closer to each other again, we become more family-like, we return to normality (if we can call it that) and we allow ourselves to return to our former normal relationship and call each other 'Mom' and 'Honey'.

Okay, we're done with these considerations and explanations and back to the action of our story.

"You've been gone for a long time, Mom," I said, kissing her hand. "I missed you already and I was starting to get a little worried about you."

"Oh...really? Totally unnecessary, honey," she said, shaking my hand. "But it's very nice of you to be so worried about me... and it's very nice that you still miss me a little. Well... could you take this from me because I want to take my coat off," she said, handing me the small package she had taken out of the trunk.

"What do you have here?" I asked out of curiosity, looking inside. "Ooo... french pastries? Your favorites. I see you couldn't resist them."

"Yes, you know I have a weakness for them," she laughed, "so I bought a few on the way. I thought we could use some coffee to sweeten the evening a bit. Help me with my coat, will you?" she said, taking off her scarf from her collar.

"Sure," I replied, placing the package of cookies on the dresser to help her take off her coat, the scarf, and the hat she had taken off. Only now, after taking off her coat, I noticed that she was wearing a white turtleneck, the sleeves of which were tucked deep into her gloves, reaching to her elbows. After assessing her appearance for literally a second, I put her clothes back in their place in the closet and returned to her.

"Thanks, honey. All right. I don't think there's anything to wait for, so what would you say now to one little cup of delicious coffee with some cake?" she asked, winking at me and stroking my cheek with her gloved hand.

"My pleasure... you know you never have to ask me that," I took the opportunity to take her hand and kiss it.

"Hmm... I knew you had a weakness for them too and that you wouldn't refuse me. All right. I'm going to the bathroom for a moment, while you prepare some coffee and cookies. I'll be there in a moment," she said, taking off her gloves and heading towards the bathroom. "Ah... here, hold my gloves for a while," she said, taking two steps back and handing them to me.

I did as Elizabeth told me. But I couldn't resist communing with her divine gloves, being alone with them. I didn't put them aside to lie idle. I wanted to take care of them so that they would not feel abandoned, lonely, so that they would feel that they are needed all the time and that someone cares about them, someone wants to touch their exquisite leather, to hold them in hand all the time.

I went to the kitchen, still holding them in my left hand to my nose, enjoying the smell of leather. Burgundy leather unlined elbow-length gloves. They always smelled new combined with expensive perfumes. Even though they had been used by my Lady for quite a long time, they still looked as if they had just been purchased and unpacked from the package.

The only evidence that they were used was that the leather was already slightly stretched from being frequently put on her divine hands and pulled out. But their leather was not damaged or wrinkled at all, which proved the class of a woman my Mistress is and how important her gloves are to her wardrobe and how well she knows how to take care of them.

I prepared coffee and cookies with my right hand, because that was the only one I had free at the moment. Holding my Stepmother's gloves in my hand was now my top priority over preparing treats. It was like a ritual that, if interrupted, could be considered a desecration.

Coffee and cookies were ready. Now all I had to do was take them to the living room. I could do it in one go by putting everything on the tray, but then I'd have to put the gloves aside. Of course I had no intention of doing that. I wanted to hold them and feel their touch for as long as possible. By handing them to me, Elizabeth had given me a chance that I now had to take advantage of, and it would be my fault to waste it now.

I made four trips between the kitchen and the living room, carrying one item at a time, holding it in my right hand and holding the gloves in my left one all the time to my face. It looked a bit funny. If someone was watching my actions from the side, they would have a lot of fun with me. I wonder what my Lady would think of me if she suddenly came out of the bathroom and asked me what I was doing with her gloves. How would I explain myself then?

I could say, for example, that I went straight to the kitchen with them because I wanted to make coffee quickly, and now when I brought it, I took them from there. Despite my twisted explanations, my Mistress could still think various things about me. Besides, I don't have anything to hide anymore, because she already knows about my weaknesses and we are both basically used to it.

I was already waiting for my Stepmother in the living room, sitting on our favorite sofa, where we often sit together and talk. I took the opportunity, still having an intimate date with her gloves, to continue examining them, touching them, sniffing them. I was tempted to put them on my hands, but because they are unlined and very tight, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to take them off when Elizabeth finally came out and might catch me.

But I couldn't resist rubbing my penis, through my trousers of course, with her gloves. It was relatively safe because I could stop it at any time, literally in a second. It only took me a few movements of my hand and I got a hard-on. I continued rubbing, imagining that it was my Lady doing it with her hand instead of me, sitting right next to me. My imagination and rubbing were even more intense as my ears heard the distinct, loud tappings of the heels of her boots from behind the closed bathroom door.

Since that short period of time when my Mistress started whipping me, both these gloves and the black ones I recently gave her for her birthday were the only ones she liked to wear while dominating me. Although she still has many pairs in which she also looks attractive and which suit her as a dominatrix. Although I think that black suits her best, I also had many erotic experiences with these burgundy ones when she wore them. Her hands were also very firm back then. It was obvious that she felt very comfortable in them and held her black riding crop professionally.

My rubbing had reached its peak. I was already so excited that I felt like I was about to cum. I didn't have to wait long for the results of my intensive work. The moment my Stepmother opened the bathroom door, it was as if on her orders - the valve was closed, the semen was cut off and there was no turning back, it gushed abundantly into the trousers. The tapping of the heels of Elizabeth's boots became louder and louder. Terrified by what had just happened, I quickly put her gloves aside, to the place on the couch intended for her.

Due to the respect I had for her and because she is simply a woman, despite my unpleasant situation, I had to get up from the couch and pay attention. It's good that I was wearing black and relatively loose jeans today, so the possible appearance of a stain shouldn't be that noticeable. Although, just now I felt a trickle of sperm leak out from under my briefs and start to spill down the upper part of my left thigh. Yes, it was the result of my underpants being too small and my stiff penis just popping out of them.

I assumed that some of the sperm would spill out, and some of it found its way into the underpants and had already soaked into them and would not penetrate into the fabric of the jeans. I also assumed that if the sperm had time to dry quickly and due to my Lady's good mood at the moment, there would be no inspection of the cleanliness of my underwear today, so everything should be fine.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I like it when you stand at attention in front of me like that," my Mistress came up to me smiling with her makeup corrected and pinched my cheek with joy. "Well, but today you don't have to be so formal and tense, you can relax a little and sit next to your Stepmother." Then she asked, "Do you have my gloves?"

"Yeah... I'll give them to you now, Mom," I reached for them on the couch and, a little nervous about what I'd just done with them, handed them to her.

"Thanks," she replied with a smile, looking at me suspiciously as she took them and stroked my arm with them.

So I guess it's good. My Stepmother, despite her suspicions, should probably be in a good mood today. There was nothing left for me to do but sit comfortably on the sofa and join her for a cup of coffee. And the poor gloves don't even have a moment's peace. Now Elizabeth has taken them in her hands and is touching them. She will definitely put them on in a moment, pull out, gesticulate, and move her fingers in all directions. The gloves will have their hands full again. Well, that's what man created them for, after all.

Oh... if my Lady knew how busy her gloves were just now. What kinky activities they must have performed. What an amazing change of places. First on my dick, and now, in a moment, on her hands.

"Uhmm... what a smell... that coffee... those cookies," my Mistress sighed, walking over to the other side of the couch. She sat down gracefully, crossing one booted leg over the other.

While enjoying coffee and cookies, we started a casual conversation about everything and nothing. My Stepmother didn't put on gloves for a long time. Holding them in her left hand, she waved them in all directions, as if to emphasize the meaning of her spoken words. Of course, the swinging of the gloves was accompanied by the dangling of her booted foot around her ankle. She did it on purpose because she knew it turned me on.

She did it on purpose so that I would get a hard-on all the time. She knew she could excite me now and then she could inspect my underwear at any time. How she would behave in this matter now depended on her mood. And the situation inside my trousers, as I mentioned above, didn't seem interesting.

She didn't put on gloves for a long time because she was waiting for a crucial moment during our conversation to humiliate me. It was her game. She did this often, and always while putting on gloves. I was very curious when this would happen.

"I'm glad you're in such a great mood today, Mom," I began to praise her. "Maybe you could tell me why you're in such a cheerful mood," I suggested.

Elizabeth laughed.

"Ah... listen... I haven't had as much fun as I did today during dinner with my friends for a long time. Imagine that today the main topic of our heated discussion was having a maid at home." And here my Stepmother laughed again and, just at that moment, she began to put on her left glove.

I began to wonder what the degrading connection was between me, the maid, and my Mistress putting on the glove. After a few seconds of storming in my brain, everything became clear to me. You can combine wearing gloves with having a maid. From my past observations, I have concluded that only well-groomed, dominant alpha women have the privilege of wearing high-heeled leather boots and leather gloves. This is what sets these women apart from others.

Additionally, dominant alpha women have the privilege of having a beta female or beta male servant. Depending on the maid's submissiveness, the dominant Mistress may humiliate the maid to a greater or lesser extent, including beating her/him, if the maid does not mind.

And here's the connection with me. My Stepmother, my Lady, my Mistress is a dominant woman. She wears leather boots and gloves. She has a servant at home. That servant is me. And just by putting on the glove in front of me, she made me understand that when she and her friends discussed the general topic of having a maid during dinner, in her particular case she simply had me in mind.

"Hmmm? Very interesting topic?" I couldn't wait for it to develop.

"Yes. Since you are also my servant, this will definitely interest you. Listen. As you can probably guess, these unfortunate friends of mine are also ladies like me. You know... rich, well-groomed, sometimes characterized by vanity, created for a life of luxury, drive luxury cars, dress expensive, branded clothes, and you know... leather boots and gloves are the order of the day," here my Stepmother clearly emphasized these two elements wardrobe so that I noticed it as she pulled on her glove and straightened her booted leg at the knee.

"And as it is usually the case with women of this social class," Elizabeth continued, still pulling on her glove, "it is inconceivable that any of us would do any mean housework that would demean our high standard of living. So each of us makes it a point of honor to have a maid at our disposal who, preferably, would not demand too much, but would work hard to achieve this high standard, and give her orders... just for fun. And as you probably guessed, these friends of mine also have such maids... or I should have said... that they had."