Mr Low expressed his reservations. 'If a Rose West look-a-like opens this door then we're fucking off home right?' I ignored him and waited as I heard the sound of feet clattering down the stairs inside. I held my breath and waited. The door swung open and I was somewhat reassured when a rather pleasant looking lady peered at me. Blonde, about 5ft 4in, with a slim body, and looking pretty much as I'd imagined her from our telephone chats. Also, to my relief, there was no sight of any rubber or leatherwear, just a plain dark blue dress and black slip on shoes, and no stockings.
"I knew you would turn up," was her greeting. "Come in and go through to the front room." She ushered me through and I followed, doubts hammering in my chest. Before I had the chance to settle down she came to stand at my side and whispered in my ear: "From this second onwards you will address me as Mistress and I will address you as slave. And you will do absolutely everything I command." She didn't wait for an answer, but added: " Now strip naked, and when I return you will be down on the floor on all fours."
'So a cup of tea is out of the question then?' observed Mr Low.
POSITION ONE
Mr High and I felt a tingle of anticipation while I knelt awaiting her return. Thankfully she returned dressed in the same attire, looking more like a housewife than a dominatrix. I thought that was much sexier.
She positioned herself at my head. "Put your hands closer together, slave. Put your knees together and bring them up under your belly and lower your bottom. Place your forehead flat on the floor at the point of my shoes." She surveyed my position. " Good. Now remember that is 'Position One'. Whenever you greet me that is the position you adopt, and whenever I say 'Position One' you instantly revert to how you are now. Do you understand?"
"Yes Mistress." I muttered.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. A bit louder if you please."
'Is she fucking deaf?' Mr Low mumbled in my ear, but I ignored him. "Yes Mistress."
She grabbed a clump of my hair and yanked my head up forcing me to look her straight in the eyes. "That's, 'yes Mistress, thank you, Mistress,' isn't it?"
"Yes Mistress, thank you, Mistress."
I could sense Mr High was keen to make his presence felt for the first time. 'This is exciting stuff. She's one hell of a sexy lady.' But Mr Low snorted derisively, 'This is fucking embarrassing: what on earth are we doing here?'
While Mr High and Mr Low were bickering, my Mistress was watching me staidly. Seemingly content with my answer she sat down on the sofa and studied my obedient posture. "This is how I live, slave. I have three other slaves at my command and they are privileged I let them serve me. You will be my fourth. Your mind and your body are no longer yours. They belong to me, and I alone decide what your body is used for".
"Mistress, what if..."
She didn't let me finish my sentence. "You will not speak unless I give you permission to speak. If you have something to say when we are alone then you will lie on your back, kicking your legs in the air, like a dog trying to get the fleas off its back, and I will consider granting you permission to speak. If we are in company you may raise your right hand and await my response."
'So we're not going to be speaking much are we?' said Mr Low sarcastically.
"There are many rules for you to learn," she continued. "Your training will not all be done in one weekend. It takes time to train a slave fully, but at least these two days are a start." She walked around me, appraising me, nodding her head slightly. "I have a feeling you will become a very good and obedient slave. I have high hopes for you."
'This is going to be v-e-r-y interesting,' quipped Mr High.
'I have high hopes for you?' queried Mr Low. 'Sounds like a bloody Careers Advice worker when you're just leaving school.'
As you can see, my doubts continued. But there was no way I was going to stop.
PAIN AND HUMILIATION
My Mistress beckoned me to stand up. I stood in front of her, with my arms at my side. I noticed her deep blue eyes for the first time, and the small dimple on her chin. She looked me up and down: at six feet I was a good deal taller than her, and at thirteen stones a hell of a lot heavier. Yet, damn it, I was ready to submit to her. She told me to turn around, with my back facing her, as she remained seated on the sofa.
"Grab your ankles," she commanded, I held my breath and dared myself to go through with it. Slowly, I began to bend, feeling incredibly exposed. She got up and moved towards me. I could feel her breath on my back, and then her hand on my skin. It was like an electric current running through me. I sighed as she proceeded to spread the cheeks of my bottom apart. I could feel the slight touch of her finger on the rim of my anus. She had donned a pair of dispensable gloves and after a moment's prodding she gently inserted her finger into my rectum: my God, I thought, this was going to be a medical examination. She moved it in a small circular movement then withdrew it. It felt so erotic. She turned me back to face her, took hold of my balls and asked me to cough. I felt a bit like a schoolchild as my examination proceeded: I had to spread my arms out, level with my shoulders while she checked my armpits. Even my feet didn't escape attention: I had to raise first my left leg and present my foot for inspection, and then my right, almost stumbling over on a couple of occasions as I struggled to keep my balance. In total I think she covered every inch of my body.
"I am not particularly fond of this next part," my Mistress commented, with some concern in her voice, "But it is a necessary part of your training." Even Mr High was a little worried by this pronouncement of doom, let alone the absolutely dumbstruck Mr Low. "Eventually, as my training takes effect, you will obey my every whim because you truly wish to please me, with no regard for your own discomfort. But until then you will obey my every whim only because you fear my wrath. Now, if you have never experienced my punishment you will quite understandably not fear it. So I have to administer a taste of the pain I can administer. It is regrettable: I only wish to punish you for any disobedience or hesitation on your part but my dear slave, how can you possibly fear my punishments when you have never experienced them?"
'That makes sense to me' whispered Mr High. Idiot, I thought. It's not your arse that's going to get blasted.
"So, let's get on with it. Put yourself over my lap. Rest your weight on my knees." I had known what was coming, but even so I felt a sense of shock as she spoke those words: I was going to get a spanking. Well, I had dished out plenty over the last few years, so I had a good idea what to expect. She hitched up her dress slightly, and I hovered over her, daring myself to submit. Quietly, I lay across her knee. I could feel the warmth from her body, and it felt good.
" How old did you say you were?" she enquired.
"Forty-two Mistress." I replied respectfully.
"Right, count them slave."
"One, thank you Mistress... two, thank you Mistress."
She started off lightly, more like a gentle slap, and then around ten she increased the firmness of the strokes. By thirty they were beginning to get harder still, and they were beginning to hurt. Fortunately, after every ten hits she caressed my bottom and gently massaged each cheek. As the pain and the stinging sensations increased I mentally locked on to the approaching number forty-two. I could make that.
"Forty one, thank you Mistress... forty-two, thank you Mistress." I had made it. I relaxed slightly.
What a mistake. Her hand came down for number forty-three, forty-four, forty–five and on and on. Despite myself, I was whimpering.
I heard her laugh. "I didn't say I was going to give you only forty-two strokes, did I? I was only enquiring about your age, silly boy."
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