My Neighbor, My Mistress

"You are not to be the center, or even on the periphery of attention, pet," Mistress warned. "Barely seen, never heard, and always obedient to my command. Understand?

I did.

To this day I don't know how many men served Mistress, but I was afforded the opportunity to routinely assist in sessions with several of them. One was a rubberdoll who provided Mistress with the most intense, loving foot worship I've seen to this day; the other was into heavy impact play that brought out a more aggressive, sadistic side of Mistress than I thought possible; and the third was being trained as a pony. Since we all wore rubber masks or hoods throughout the sessions I never learned, or really cared to learn, who any of these men were. My entire focus was on Mistress Harris, and she never failed to wow me.

One night, after a particularly brutal session involving her pain-slut sub, I found myself alone in the play space sanitizing the spanking bench and wiping down the floggers and restraints when Mistress unexpectedly strode back into the room - a rarity, especially still clad in what I'd come to think of as her masochist costume: knee high black lace up boots with needle-sharp stiletto heels, a shiny, fire engine red latex leotard cinched tight with a transparent-smoky-black corset and matching wrist gauntlets.

"Kneel, slave."

I complied and Mistress walked up to and around me, stopping to my rear. I felt a hard barehanded slap on my ass, ending in a tight squeeze. Then, she ran her hands up my back, resting them briefly on my shoulders before reaching down and grabbing my chest with both hands. Next, she began to squeeze, scratch and twist-play with my nipples. Finally, Mistress leaned down and and whispered in my ear:

"I'm on fire tonight, slave. Are you ready to be my bitch-toy?"

"Yes Mistress."

Immediately, I felt a boot on my back and a kick forward, which sent me flying from my prone position to the floor. I began to push myself up.

"I didn't tell you to move slave," Mistress said as she walked over and began digging her stiletto heels into my back.

"Now, roll over and take off your boxers for me."

I did as told and my erect cock sprung up toward the ceiling. Mistress lowered herself down into a sitting position on my chest.

"Oh Frankie, my little pet. How far we've come together," she said, reaching around and teasing my cock with her sharp nails.

Then, without warning, she moved the bottom of her leotard aside, exposing her perfectly moist womanhood, and pivoted forward onto my face. Needing no verbal command, I hungrily licked and sucked while she bucked against my head, fucking it hard against the ground.

Satisfied, she rose up and commanded me back into my ready position. Then, she walked over to her wall of toys and picked out her favorite dildo and harness, strapping into it with efficiency and ease.

"Remember your first visit here, Frankie? How wide-eyed all this made you, even after I loosened you up with all those nice drinks?"

"Yes ma'am, that seems like a lifetime ago now."

"It does doesn't it," she said, strutting towards me, her rubber phallus swinging between her legs. She stopped just before me. "Gently now, slut."

I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around the head of her cock and sucked the shaft into my mouth. Mistress began to rock against my movements and we settled into a nice little rhythm. She rewarded me by reaching down and playing with my chest and nipples again, driving me wild with desire.

As gently as we began, Mistress withdrew her cock from my mouth and then, in one surprise flick of the waist slapped my face with it. I felt the warmth of its sting and my drool against my cheek.

"Up now, slave, and onto the spanking table."

I moved quickly and put myself atop it, resting with my legs and arms out in what could be described as an "X' position.

"Do we need restraints, slave, or can you hold still for Mistress?"

In my role as her assistant I'd heard Mistress ask her subs this question dozens of times and the answers varied, even by the same person on different days. Long ago, I'd decided that, if ever given the choice, I'd forgo restrains as an ultimate sign of my submission to her will.

"No restraints, ma'am, I am forever in your hands."

"Very well then," she replied, as she walked to the wall to grab a paddle.

While my eyes were forward, I'd seen Mistress in action often enough to know that she was setting into a stance behind me that would keep her firmly grounded while she wound up, beat my ass, and ensured a good follow-through without losing balance.

Smack!

I winced as the first blow struck my cold ass; a sting followed by warmth. Smack! Smack!

"Say my name, bitch-boy."

"Mistress Harris."

"And what are you to me, bitch-boy?"

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"I am your pet, your play-thing, Mistress."

"No, bitch-boy," she replied, while continuing to beat my ass in a quick, wicked rhythm, "You are nothing to me. Not even human. You are an It to me."

After a quick pause, I heard Mistress drop the paddle and then the "click, click, click" of her heels striking the ground as she moved toward me. Having never seen her quite in this type of mood, I had no idea what to expect, but found myself biting down hard onto my lower lip as I felt her gloved, lubed fingers slide into my asshole. After less than a minute of this - feeling one finger, two, three fingers even - she laughed and inserted Her still strapped-on cock into me.

Suddenly, my body felt so full. And my mind so blank.

There were no words passed between us. Just the sound of Her cock sliding in and out of me. It could have lasted an hour. Or maybe only a few minutes. Time was no longer a thing. And neither was my control over my body as I found myself in almost continual orgasm, leading me to both cum and sob uncontrollably.

And then, as suddenly as she'd started, Mistress withdrew.

"You've defiled my space, you pig, clean it and yourself up and come straight downstairs when you are through," Mistress commanded as she walked back out the door, unstrapping her cock and dropping it to the floor for me to retrieve.

Slowly, I lifted myself up and complied. Upon finishing, I walked my truly sore ass downstairs where I found Mistress curled up on the couch in athleisure-wear, sipping a cup of tea. She gestured for me to sit down across from her.

"How are you, Frank? What happened up there," she asked.

"I, um, that brought out so much more in me than I had ever imagined, Ma'am."

She nodded, knowingly.

I continued on, telling her how connected to her I felt and how it had been an honor to finally be at her mercy on that cold, merciless table.

"You did so much better than I thought, Frank. Truly took it like the sub I imagined you to be when I first laid eyes on you."

Praise being rare, I blushed.

"But here's the thing, Frank. I meant what I said upstairs. You are nothing to me. Honestly, dominating you, I felt nothing. And that's a problem. As you may have seen as my assistant, I truly love all of my slaves - from my darling Ed to my budding pony."

"I don't understand, ma'am."

"It is probably the first time in life you've gotten the answers right, but still failed the test, Frank," she replied. "Life can be cruel like that sometimes."

Stunned, I began to beg Mistress for a second chance. But she was firm in her resolve. Eventually, I departed her home, never to return to her upstairs dungeon.

Several months later I received a new job offer back on the mainland. It was the perfect opportunity at an ideal time for me to move on so I jumped at it.

That was several years ago now and I look back on my time in Hawaii and with Mistress Harris with appreciation and, oftentimes, longing. She awakened something in me I didn't know existed. Something that I've continued to learn about and discover with subsequent Mistress' and kinky friends.

I have no idea where Mistress Harris is today, but I wish her well. In fact, if she is reading this I'd love for her to drop me a note. In the least, I'd like to thank her for validating my belief that it is always worth being kind to one's neighbors.