The Encounter

Thank you to I & F for your contributions to this story.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older.

Chapter One

Greg

"What are you doing?" I asked.

It wasn't a gasp - or a scream - or in any way a particularly shocked tone. It certainly wasn't especially loud. After all, it had never been a question of "if." Only where, when and by whom. Gazing up into the distorted reflection in the metallic front of the ice machine, I guessed her to be a businesswoman - an attractive businesswoman at that.

When I turned to face her my hard-on reacted involuntarily to the way her spectacular emerald green eyes dipped to the bulge in my pants - positively sparkling at what she was viewing.

"That's funny, I was going to ask the same of you," she replied.

So...game on then. I told her, "Waiting for you, of course."

"What for?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear it from me.

Her eyes came up and met mine. I could already feel her asserting control.

"To do your will." I enunciated each word - carefully - not wanting to be misunderstood. Nothing happened immediately and for a moment I thought, gut-wrenchingly, that I had made a huge mistake.

She cocked her head slightly, and I stood very still, hoping my inner trembling wasn't visible to her thorough head to foot examination. She then glanced both ways up and down the hotel corridor. Then turned back squarely to me.

"I've never accepted anyone I don't know into my service. Why should I accept you?"

A sense of relief flooded my body. She was The One. But then as quickly as my anxiety faded it reemerged, even stronger. How could I convince this beautiful woman that I was worthy of serving her? She was right. She didn't know me. Why should she waste her time with me?

"Robert referred me."

A flash of recognition crossed her face. I could tell that she was trying to suppress that window into her mind. "Robert ... ah yes ... he was ... adequate."

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into me. I instinctively dropped my eyes to the ground. "So, are going to be just ... adequate?"

"No ... Mistress," I replied, my eyes still gazing downward.

"Good. Show me." She pushed her black leather pump in front of me. It looked expensive. I couldn't help but see her shapely calf. My cock twitched in my pants. I'm sure she noticed.

"Here?" I asked, instantly knowing that I should have kept my mouth shut.

She looked at me as if I was an imbecile. I dropped to my knees in my expensive business suit and prostrated myself in front of her with my lips planted firmly on the top of her high heel. A shiver went up my spine when I realized someone could be walking down the hallway. I started licking the leather surface of her shoe, a mixture of intoxicating smells wafting into my nose. I wanted to remember that smell of leather, shoe polish, and the slightest hint of perfume she had carefully dabbed between her legs. I stole a glance upward to see her satisfied expression, secretly hoping I would be punished by this mysterious woman.

She then raised her foot up so I could suck on the tip of her shoe. She flexed her toe upward, exposing the sole. She was testing me. Without hesitation I started licking the sole of her shoe, picking up carpet fibers, small stones, and whatever else she encountered on the walk over. I didn't care. I was only focused on pleasing her, and my immediate submission was what she wanted.

"That's good my little pet. Now the heel."

Her praise sent an electric charge through me. I had pleased her. She might accept me into her service. I put the entire heel in my mouth and then closed my lips around it, dragging the heel out of my mouth slowly. It made me feel like a slut - her slut.

"Look at me," my Queen said, using the tip of her finger to tilt my chin upward. I stared at her. I gazed into those deep green eyes. Her eyes dared me to go lower. I wanted to. I wanted to see her perfect breasts and her narrow waist, but her eyes wouldn't permit me to look elsewhere.

"You want this," she said definitively.

"Yes ... Mistress," I said, only to confirm that I had heard her. She knew she was right.

"Do you want to ... fuck me?" She spat out the phrase as if it was a bad taste in her mouth.

I didn't care how she said it. All that mattered to me is that she said it. "Yes, Mistress."

"Of course you do. Most of the men I take into my stable have never even seen my pussy, let alone fucked it. But I wouldn't take you if you didn't want to."

Then, as if she showing me what I would never have, she spread her feet apart a few inches and pulled the hem of her skirt up to reveal the lacy tops of her thigh high stockings. Still on my knees, I tilted my head upwards to see her tastefully short skirt, now bunched up to the tops of her legs, exposing the shadowy area between her slightly spread legs. I could smell the perfume. I could see the creamy white skin of her thighs. My erection was pressing uncomfortably against my pants.

She let go of the hem of her skirt and allowed me to continue to look at her. She was wearing a sheer grey silk blouse with one extra button unbuttoned. I could see the lace on the edge of her bra and the pale white skin of her plump breasts. I wanted desperately to take my cock out of my pants and stroke it.

"I may keep you." She turned around and started walking down the hallway.

I followed her, now freely looking at every inch of her. She had long chestnut brown hair that was up in a French twist. Her slender frame belied the swell of her breasts. Her hips swayed, not enough to be thought of as cheap, but enough to be extremely sexy. Her heels accentuated the gentle curve of her calves.

She went into the elevator lobby and pushed the "Up" button. The door opened. She entered and turned around. She nodded. I got on the elevator, making sure to stand behind her. She hit "15."

"Knees," she said, speaking towards the elevator doors.

I got on my knees, praying that the elevator would not stop until we got to the 15^th floor. I watched the display read 11 ... 12 ... 13 ... 14 ... 15. Thank God we didn't stop.

My relief was short lived. There was an elderly couple waiting to take the elevator down. Their mouths were agape when they saw me kneeling behind my Mistress. I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. Instead, Mistress walked casually out of the elevator without looking back. I crawled on my hands and knees behind her, my silk tie dragging on the ground. I didn't look back but I was sure that the couple was staring at me.

We got to her room. She fished the room key out of her purse, opened the door, and then looked down at me, conveying with her eyes that I was a pitiful sight, a successful businessman in a $1,000 suit, on my knees, silently pleading to be invited into her room so she could have her way with me.

"Wait here," she said as she walked into her room, letting the door close behind her. The door closed with a resounding "click."

So there I was, on my knees, waiting in the hallway of an airport hotel, looking at the fraying carpeting and peeling wallpaper while nervously watching both ways to see if anyone was coming. My mind went back to that fateful day about a month ago. I had finalized my divorce about a year before, and was feeding my latent desire to be dominated. To be fair about it, it wasn't something where I woke up one morning with an unquenchable thirst for submission. It was the result of soul searching, watching porn, and reading a lot about the world of D/s.

My sexual relationship (or lack thereof) with my wife was one of the main reasons for the divorce. I was the only person she had ever had sex with, and her tastes were firmly anchored in vanilla - missionary position sex with little foreplay and no variations. After a few years of her complete indifference to spicing up our relationship I decided to explore on my own - not an affair per se, but an exploration of what was out there that I was missing. My first step was porn. I hadn't really watched a lot, and my wife had absolutely no interest in it. I watched everything, ranging from vanilla sex to scenes involving spanking, whipping, anal, and even pissing. I was aroused by it all, but particularly drawn to scenes where the woman was dominating the man. Over time, I was watching domination scenes to the exclusion of all others. It scratched an itch I had had for years.

I started reading about it. There was a whole world out there for me to discover. I lusted for the power exchange - to have my fate in the hands of another. I also wanted to experience pain, to be expertly meted out by a Domme to increase both her pleasure and mine. I spent my late hours in my den masturbating to scenes involving a Domme punishing a man, teasing him and withholding his orgasm, and then completion when the man is finally allowed to cum. The intensity of my orgasms masturbating to these videos far exceeded the ones I had with plain vanilla sex.

Unfortunately my wife had no interest in any of this. I hinted at my submissive side, encouraging her to dictate the action. Those hints fell on deaf ears, which relegated me to frequent late night visits to my office and the loyal services of my right hand.

Our disagreements about sex, and other matters that I won't bore you with here, led to our divorce. After the divorce, I spent much more uninterrupted time feeding my thirst for domination, indulging in hours of porn, trying phone sex with Dommes, and scouring adult websites to see how I could safely hook up with someone. But nothing came of it. It wasn't until I was talking with a co-worker that my life was destined to change.

I went on a three-day business trip with a co-worker, Robert, to introduce our company's new accounting software to a potential client. We worked late into the night and then adjourned to the hotel bar to unwind. We had probably more than we should have, with the alcohol loosening our lips. We talked about my divorce and in a moment of temporary courage, I told Robert about my interest in D/s.

"I ... ummm ... am intrigued by domination and submission. I ... you know ... am just curious. I haven't done anything ..."

The alcohol induced haze in Robert's eyes momentarily cleared. "I know what you're talking about."

"You do?"

"Look. Can I trust you?" he asked.

"Of course ... of course ... this stays between the two of us."

"I'm already in my third relationship."

"No shit."

"I love it."

"Why?"

"It's hard to describe. It makes me feel whole. I get more pleasure from pleasing my Mistress than I do from any sexual stimulation. You know, I do enjoy getting off, but the real high is pleasing her."

We probably talked for an hour about it. I couldn't get enough of his stories. This was real. He was actually doing it. I pressed him for someone to contact. He gave me the phone number of his previous Domme - a Mistress Katarina. He had met her at a D/s event and was one of her subs for several months.

I couldn't sleep that night. I was so excited about the prospect of being in a presence of a Domme that I literally counted down the hours until the next morning, when I could place the phone call. The conversation I had the next morning is still indelibly etched in my mind.

"Hello?" she answered.

"This is Greg ... Robert ..." She cut me off before I could finish.

"Who gave you this number?"

"Robert ... Robert Cummins."

"Hmmm ... I haven't seen Robert in quite a while ..."

"I was interested ..."

" ... in being my pet?"

"Why ... yes."

"I'll meet you ... no guarantees."

"Of course."

"Be at the Excelsior Hotel, fifth floor, in front of the ice machine, next Thursday at 6 p.m."

"What ..." Before I could get another word out the line went dead.

So there I was, still kneeling in front of her door, praying she would open it for me.

As if my prayers were heard, the door cracked open.

"Get in," she ordered.

She let go of the door, and I had to lunge forward to stop it before it latched shut. I shuffled into her room on my knees. It was a large corner room with a generous living area and a king size bed. The curtains were open and in the waning light there was a good view of the golf course adjoining the hotel. There were a number of implements laid out on the bed. There was a blindfold, a riding crop and a pair of handcuffs. There was also a small bright blue nylon duffel bag.

This was really happening. Could reality measure up to my fantasies?

She was still wearing her tailored business attire. I noticed another button on her blouse was unbuttoned so her bra was almost entirely visible. She was the sexiest woman I had ever laid eyes on. She stood in front of me - close enough that I had to tilt my head to see her face. It was hard for me the breathe.

"So let's get some ground rules straight, shall we?" Her voice was perfect. The pitch. The air of confidence. Stern.

I nodded. What else was I going to do?

"I'm Mistress Katarina to you. I'm not going to tell you if it's my real name, and you're not privy to my real first and last name until I decide to give it to you."

She continued without looking for affirmation from me.

"Your safe word is 'red.' If you say that word I'll stop what I'm doing. You are to put your clothes back on and leave. I'll decide if we see each other again."

"In the future, if I decide to see you again, you'll shave your body except for the hair on top of your head."

"When you're waiting for me, you'll present yourself like this." She kicked the inside of my knees until they were spread apart. "Your hands will be clasped behind your back."

"I will call you anything I want. You may be my pet, my whore, my slut, or whatever else I choose."

"Your orgasms belong to me, and me only."

"You'll be on time. If you are even a minute late the session is over. Do you understand?"

I nodded vigorously.

"Answer me, slut."

"Yes, Mistress Katarina." I was shaking with excitement. I felt as if I was at the apex of a roller coaster and about to take the harrowing plunge downward.

"Good boy. Now strip and present yourself." She folded her arms, waiting with mock (or real?) impatience.

I carefully removed my business suit, folding each item and placing it on the floor next to me. I finished by taking off my shoes, pants and boxer shorts. I was embarrassed by the fact that I had a raging hard-on. I knelt on the floor and spread my knees apart and clasped my hands behind my back as she showed me. I'm sure she could see that I was shaking.

She extended her foot forward and pressed the sole of her shoe against the underside of my erection, pinning my penis against my stomach. I winced at the exquisite pain she was meting out but said nothing. She didn't suppress her smile at my reaction. She twisted her foot, which caused the leather sole of her shoe to tug on the sensitive skin of the underside of my penis. I doubled over at the sharp pain.

"Like all men, your dick has a mind of its own. Control it or suffer the consequences." She twisted her foot again, reigniting the fire. My penis deflated.

"I'm going to use some of my toys. I want to see how you react. Based on what I see, I'll decide whether I want to see you again. Shall we proceed?"

"Yes, Mistress." I wanted to rub my sore penis but thought better of it.

She approached me with a blindfold in her hand. I silently prayed she wouldn't put it on me. I wanted to see and remember every moment of this encounter. My prayers unanswered, she pulled the blindfold over my eyes, plunging my world into complete darkness. I was scared shitless.

Now sightless (and shitless), her voice rang out even louder to me. "Stand up."

I did so, wobbling slightly because the blindfold caused me to lose my orientation. The room felt like it was spinning.

I felt the leather tab of a riding crop being swung upward so it was slapping against my testicles. It hurt like a motherfucker, but it didn't stop my penis from having an almost painful erection. She continued, increasing the intensity of the slaps until I wanted to scream. She must have sensed my breaking point because she stopped.

My balls were throbbing in pain. I wanted to rip off the blindfold and run out of the room. But my legs felt like they were encased in concrete. I couldn't move. Then she did something that was entirely unexpected. She took the full length of my cock in her mouth, pressing her lips against my pubic hair. I almost staggered backwards.

"Oh my God ..." I gasped, seeing stars in my eyes.

She pulled off of me. I thrust my hips forward in a vain attempt to find her lips.

"No talking without permission, slut."

She resumed sucking me, and this time using one of her hands to cradle my balls in the palm of her hand. She was too good at this. Right when I was about to cum, my balls tightened. She could sense this, and closed her fist around my balls, causing pain and a complete loss of my erection. She took me to the edge so many times I wanted to explode.

"Do you want to cum my pet?"

Was she serious? This woman was seriously wicked. "Yes ... Mistress ... very much," I croaked. So this is what exquisite torture felt like. I wanted more.

"You haven't earned it yet."

Chapter Two

The Test

The bite of her crop against my super sensitive inner thigh cut through the pain-induced haze. But only for a few fleeting moments. It was hard to for me to tell. I had no concept of time, place or space. I remembered that Mistress Katarina ordered me to keep the soles of my feet pressed against one another, knees splayed, but I forgot to keep the rhythm with my hand going, stroking myself. That omission earned me a tear-wrenching crop bite on the tip of my hard-on.

Desire surged through me like a wave of heat, ripping my breath away. I was much too close to hang on. I could only manage a strangled, drawn out, "Please." That plea brought me a crop stroke directly to my wrist bone, causing my hand to release from my cock and fly up and away, revealing my cock, involuntarily pulsing and twitching. An acidic panic erupted in my throat, the inner wave of cum way too close to eruption, seemingly on a course of its own and out of my control.

Then her face was there, right there, mere inches from mine - hissing, "Don't you dare cum! Don't you dare!" Her free hand gripped my chin, twisting my face, her eyes blazing. Her free hand slapped my other cheek, hard - once again cutting through the haze. "Repeat after me," the hand twisting my chin pinching sharply. "You own my cum - do it. Say it! You own my cum! - every drop of my cum! Say it - now..." There were two voices then, both seemingly far away yet at the same time directly in my ears...both ears.

The whole world was out of synch. Crazy slow motion...yet I felt helpless to control or change it. She was in control. I had to struggle to comply.

Then there was a hand in my hair, pulling and twisting, wrenching my eyes straight up to where she stood over me...smiling downwards. "Is this your first time in subspace?"

Subspace? ... Subspace?...the term was familiar yet elusive...Subspace?

She bent over and whispered in my ear, "I love my men in subspace. They're such fun..." She laughed when my cock twitched once again, a slave to her melodic voice.