Mistress Takes a Slave Ch. 01

I was sitting at a table on the sidewalk at a cafe-cum-bar near my new slave's office. The weather was gorgeous. It was 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon; I had ordered him to leave work a little early to meet me here. I was wearing what I like to think of as a "classic" outfit: a tight, black leather skirt, mid-thigh length; a form-fitting, somewhat sheer white blouse, unbuttoned about a third of the way down; and a delicious lacy purple bra, easily visible through the blouse.

Topping things off (so to speak) were a pair of almost evil-looking black Louboutin pumps, with 5-inch heels. My chair was pushed away from the table a bit, and I was gently dangling one shoe from the toes of my crossed leg. I chuckled to myself; there were several men at the cafe, alone or in pairs, and one apparently with a girlfriend. None of them had been able to resist continuously stealing glances at me, though each varied in the amount of subtlety he displayed.

Men were such predictable, malleable creatures. Don't misunderstand me - I don't hate men; in fact, I rather enjoy them. But I see no reason why I shouldn't exploit their weaknesses to make them serve my needs and desires - to put MY pleasure first. I took another sip of my crisp white wine. I noticed the man sitting with his girlfriend looking at me, so I dipped my head a bit to lock eyes with him over the top of my mirrored aviator sunglasses, and slowly licked my lips. His cheeks reddened, and he quickly tuned away. His girlfriend looked in my direction, but by that time I was innocently taking in the street scene.

As a teenager, I was intrigued when I realized the power my attention seemed to give me over boys. When relationships with boys became physical, that power increased: it seemed young men would do almost anything to be touched, stroked, pleasured - rewarded, as it were. In college, and then graduate school, I pursued studies that provided me more insight into this phenomenon.

At 4:40, I saw Steven coming down the sidewalk, approaching the cafe. He looked good in his suit. At 5' 10", he was in good shape. I'm the same height; I prefer my men to be within an inch or so of my own height, because I enjoy the advantage of towering over them when wearing certain shoes. He was a runner, and also did some work with free weights. His body was nicely defined, but not *too* muscular. How did I know this? He had been naked in my office many times, though he was not aware of it.

Steven came to the table and greeted me. "Good afternoon, Dr. McKenna. How are you?"

"I'm well, Steven. And you?"

"Good, thank you. May I ask what you wanted to see me about, Doctor?" Always so polite. Steven remained standing, almost as if at attention, while my gaze wandered over him. Just at the moment when the situation would have turned from slightly awkward to uncomfortable (for him), I invited him to sit down.

"Join me, Steven. Please sit."

He pulled out the other chair at the table, and sat down. As he did so, I could sense him taking in my attire; indeed, my outfit was quite a bit less casual than what he had seen me wear in my office, though high heels were typical.

"Relax, Steven. Please, order yourself a drink."

He hesitated. "I really shouldn't; I have to --"

I cut him off. "Order yourself a drink, Pet."

For a split second, there was a startled look in his eyes; just as quickly, it was gone. Steven immediately looked around for one of the staff, and raised his hand to signal the waitress. When she arrived, he ordered a Laphroaig on the rocks. From our sessions, I knew this was one of his favorites.

Before the waitress could turn away, for no other reason than that I felt like it, I said, "Make it a double, Pet."

"Please, make it a double, miss," Steven echoed.

The waitress raised an eyebrow, noting the order as she looked from Steven to me. I simply returned her look with a smile until she left to fetch Steven's drink. She returned from inside the bar to place it on the table in just a couple of minutes. A couple of sips of his fine scotch did allow Steven to relax; I engaged him in pleasant small talk for the next ten minutes.

He had come to see me for help with fear of public speaking, and, secondarily, with procrastination in his professional life. In his job, he needed to make presentations to both coworkers and to customers, and while many people dislike doing this, Steven felt that his nervousness was far too obvious to his audience, and his worry about this resulted in a cycle that caused his performance to be even poorer.

I had helped him with his public speaking anxiety, and had also helped instill within him a stronger "get it done now" attitude. I found Steven rather attractive, and during an early session, I couldn't resist asking him - while he was under hypnosis, of course - if he found me attractive. His answer was yes. I actually liked Steven, and knowing that he found me attractive, I decided to make him mine.

As I said, MY needs and wants come first, so as I conditioned Steven, and bonded him to me, I emphasized his obedience to me, and created a myriad of triggers with which I could control him. All of this was done during his weekly visits to my office. More recently, I had begun to use him for pleasure during our sessions, though he had no conscious knowledge of it. This meeting was the first time he and I had seen each other outside of my office.

My purpose was to gauge the strength of his conditioning, and, if I felt the time was right, to invite him to my home. During our conversation, I used the "Pet" reference several times to have him do trivial things, all of which worked just fine. I believed it was time to have him come to my house.

I wanted to wrap this meeting up in a memorable way for Steven. There was some risk involved, because what I planned to do might shock him strongly enough that it might overcome his conditioning, but I decided to proceed.

I adjusted my seat slightly so that I could stretch out what I used to consider my freakishly long legs, and place my Louboutin-clad feet in his lap. He looked at me in surprise, but didn't move. I began to rock my feet back and forth, very slowly. One of my stiletto heels was obviously rubbing against his cock through his pants, and I could feel his growing erection. The man with his girlfriend glanced over, and his eyes went wide. This time, his girlfriend saw what he was looking at. She got angry, grabbed his wrist, hauled him away from their table, and headed down the street. I stifled a laugh.

"Steven, I'd like you to spend the weekend with me. Would you like that?" I had deliberately asked without using the "Pet" trigger. Speechless, he nodded yes. I gave him my address, and told him to be at my house at 9 a.m. sharp on Saturday morning. He would have two nights and all day Friday for his anticipation to build.

"You may go now, Steven," I said. While he stood up, twisting a bit to try to hide his partial erection, I removed my sunglasses. As he turned to walk away from the cafe, I got his attention once more. "Oh, Steven..."

He looked at me, and when our eyes met, I said, "Come for me, Pet." A slight tremor went through his body, as he ejaculated in his pants. A look of fear passed over his face, and he quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket. As he positioned the jacket to hide the spreading wetness in the crotch of his pants, I found my myself growing quite wet thinking about the weekend to come.

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This is one my first attempts at what I hope will be a multi-part story. I would love some feedback, but please be kind. ;)

- T.Q. Fox