The Long Weekend Ch. 02

He woke first.

He didn't remember falling asleep. He remembered being embraced by her, and pulled toward her breasts, and told to suckle them. He remembered her soothing and encouraging words as he gently sucked on first one nipple and then the other.

She told him how well he had done...how pleased she was so far...how attracted she was to him when he was her slutty little bitch...how much she looked forward to having him for the rest of the weekend....

It felt so secure and loving in her arms. He felt warm and safe there. He knew she desired him for the very side of him he had kept hidden from most women, and all men, for his entire life. What a fantastic find! His mind began to replay the riot of feelings that he had experienced last night. He could not remember ever feeling any emotion so vividly, so completely, even with another Mistress. This one was special. He had to strive hard to keep her interest. He wanted her to want him. He wanted to feel her touch on his body again. He wanted to feel her breath in his ear. Most of all, he wanted her inside him again.

He was tempted to get up. He needed to pee, and smiled at the memory of her sitting on his face and using him as her chamber pot. After relieving himself, he could tip-toe into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee for her. But would she be cross with him if she awoke in her bed alone?

She was already awake, but had kept her eyes shut and her breathing shallow and regular to deceive him. She wanted a moment to savor and reflect on her feelings last night, and to think about the feelings she hoped she had induced in him last night. She wanted him to lust for her, because that would bind his mind closer to her, and it was control of his mind that she was after. Once she had his mind, his body, heart and soul would follow, and she would own him.

Do I want to own him? she asked herself. Probably. Last night he had proven his e-mail claims that he was an experienced submissive. It was obvious that he had been trained to pleasure women in the past, and was pretty good at it. He needed a lot of work in the corporeal department. She could tell he wasn't really a masochist...at least not yet, she told herself with a smile.

She ran her fingernails through his hair, causing him to moan and stir involuntarily. He opened his eyes to look into hers.

"Get up," she said softly. "I want you on your knees next to the bed."

Wordlessly, he scrambled off the bed and onto the carpet, kneeling a few inches from the edge of the bed, facing her. She shifted herself around on the bed so that she was lying across it with her shapely legs hooked over his shoulders. Using her legs, she firmly drew his face closer to her vagina.

"Drink" was her command.

He positioned his lips to receive her beverage, and soon a slow, steady stream of her warm, salty fluid trickled across his tongue and down his throat. He was overwhelmed by the aroma of her pussy, the feel of her calves pulling him in toward her, the taste of her pee, and the utter submission he felt. His painfully full bladder elevated to the sense of being used by her...humiliated, objectified, subjugated.

She lay on the bed, eyes closed, feeling the relief of emptying her bladder into her slave. She could almost feel the power flowing out of him and into her at the same rate that her pee flowed into him. She loved being the Domina and she loved the power exchange.

"Clean," she told him when she was empty, and he licked her pussy clean and dry, arousing her as he did. She allowed herself one orgasm, then put her feet on top of his shoulders and pushed him back.

"Speech restrictions are still ON," she reminded him, as she lifted her head from the mattress to look at him. "Don't say a word."

He nodded, thinking about the growing urgency in his bladder and bowels. He wondered if she was hoping that he'd have an accident.

"Listen carefully," she added. "I'll only say it once. First, you will go to the kitchen and begin brewing my coffee. Next, you will come back in here and clean up my toys. You will take my strap-on into the bathroom, and thoroughly clean it with the antiseptic soap. You will not stop to eat anything or drink anything, or to use the toilet. When my strap-on is clean and dry, you will return here, kneel, and present me with my clean cock. Understood?"

He nodded and left for the Kitchen. She smiled as she watched him walk naked with his erect and unsatisfied cock bobbing up and down as he walked out, and again a few moments later when he returned to pick up his torn red panties and the soiled latex surgical gloves she had used on him last night. He disposed of them, and then picked up the clothespins, crop and a few other odds and ends, putting them on the dresser to which she silently she pointed. He finally picked up her strap-on and carried it into the bathroom. She heard the sink faucet turned on.

She closed her eyes, and summoned the image from last night of that strap-on cock sliding in and out of him, and his surrender to it. His initial screams had turned to moans, and he had eventually begun to thrust his hips back as she thrust forward. Her hands had been gripping his hips to guide the penetration, and she thought she had felt a rhythmic convulsion running through his body just as she herself had climaxed.

Yes, he had potential. She was hoping he would be a keeper. It had been too long without a personal slave to worship her, and she hoped that the drought would end with this candidate. She had grown rather fond of him over the past few months of e-mailing and phone calls. She had enjoyed his wry sense of humor, his interest in the arts, and she had especially enjoyed the intellectual discourse and the flirty banter they had shared. Besides, she reminded herself, he had a really cute ass, and legs that might make some women jealous. Using those assets to her maximum advantage was part of her plan....

He returned with the strap-on and knelt, holding it out to her with outstretched arms. After a short pause, she raised her head from the pillow and glanced at the black rubber phallus she had used to fuck him last night.

"Good job," she said. "Now go get my coffee. Just a drop of cream, no sugar."

He nodded, jumped to his feet, and gave her another view of his stiff, bouncing cock. A moment later, he stood next to the bed with a mug of coffee. She took the mug, sipped at the coffee, and nodded.

"Good," she muttered. "Kneel."

He knelt.

"Does my little slave bitch need to go potty?" she asked in a teasing, taunting voice.

He nodded vigorously.

"Would the slave like to beg Goddess to go potty?"

He nodded harder and longer.

"You will go into the bathroom; you will keep the door open so I can watch and listen. You will sit on the toilet seat. You will go both ways. When you are done, you will immediately get into the shower to shampoo and wash yourself. You will then return to kneel here...and you'd better be back before I finish this cup of coffee. Now go!"

Fifteen minutes later he was back. She had him fetch another cup of coffee, and sent him into the bathroom again to shave and brush his teeth. When he returned, she arose majestically from the bed, grabbed his still-damp hair, raised him to a standing position, and led him to her dresser. From the drawers she removed a matching pair of black lacy panties and bra, a black lace garter belt, and a pair of matching thigh-high stockings.

"You will help me dress," she said, pushing his head down until he was kneeling in front of her. "Hold the panties out for me."

He held out the panties just inches from the carpet. Using his head as a balancing post, she slowly stepped into the panties and he gently slid them up her legs and into position, making sure the elastic band was straight. They repeated the process with the garter belt. Then he pulled her stockings over her legs and attached them to the clips dangling from the garter, using his hands to smooth out the nylon fabric over her legs. He was almost breathless with excitement as he finished.

She pulled him up to standing position by his hair. Then she extended her arms straight out toward him. He slipped the bra straps over her arms and onto her shoulders. Her arms folded around him, and she drew him close to her and kissed him. It was a long, passionate, hungry kiss. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, and he yielded, using the tip of his tongue to lightly stroke the bottom of her tongue.

"Hook up my bra," she said after the first kiss ended, and began a second, deeper kiss as he tried to fumble with the tiny latches below her shoulder blades.

He finally succeeded, and her kiss ended. She pushed him away, grabbed his hair, and led him to an open closet door. She maneuvered him so that his back was against the door. From the doorknob she picked up a pair of handcuffs and locked them on his wrists in front.

"Put your hands all the way above your head," she told him.

She walked around the other side of the door. There was a six-foot length of wide elastic band with a plastic hook at either end. One hook went under the door, and the second she attached to the short chain between the cuffs. She went to the dresser, opened a drawer, and withdrew two nylon scarves. One she used to blindfold him; the other gagged him.

A moment later he heard the steady hum of a small electric motor.

She held the electric razor in her hand, savoring the moment. He had precious little body hair, and what there was of it was sparse, thin, and barely visible. She decided to begin with the pitiful strands on his chest. Two quick swipes later, and she moved on to his arms and underarms. He did not resist or even make a sound. His only reaction was the quickening of his breath.

He lightly moaned when she began shaving his pubic hairs, and twitched a little when she touched the razor to his balls.

She stepped back for a moment, letting the razor's motor run.

"Much better," she said. "Now for those lovely legs you are so proud of. They'll look so much better shaved, won't they, bitch?"

He nodded.

She finished his legs in a few minutes, shut off the motor, and began running her fingers and her nails across his hairless skin. He twisted and moaned as she teased him. She began to lick his nipples as her hands dropped to his cock and balls. His groans grew louder and more frequent, and he began to undulate.

She laughed. "You look so pretty, baby, and touching you makes me so hot!"

She stopped teasing him, and a moment later he felt her using something on his feet. He gave a loud sigh as he realized she was painting his toenails. His mind began slipping away into the realm of dreams.

"After I train you to do pedicures, you'll attend to my toes as well as your own," she told him. "Now you look even prettier."

She walked away, and came back a minute later.

"Turn around and spread your legs wide," she whispered in his ear. Obediently, he moved his legs, careful not to smudge his toenails. He blushed as he realized he wanted his toenails painted...he wanted to be pretty for her...he wanted her to get hot when she touched him....and would do anything needed to make it so.

She smiled wickedly as she watched him so carefully turn and set his feet apart. She knew he wanted it, and she had him where she wanted. She was very satisfied with that thought, and was aroused by it. She lubed up the vibrating egg and slid it quickly into his anus. He gave out a muffled cry of surprise.

"Squeeze and keep it in," she ordered. "If it falls, you will lick it clean and I'll put it in again without lube. Now turn around and face me."

He obeyed. She had him lift first one leg, then the next as she slipped on a pair of thong panties, making sure that the back string was wedged deeply in his crack.

"Maybe that will help you retain it," she laughed. She pressed the button on the small remote control, and watched him wiggle and groan for a few seconds before clicking it off.

She added a garter belt and stockings, and stepped back to admire her work. Satisfied, she undid his blindfold, gag and cuffs, and led him by the hand to a full-length mirror.

"Look," she said. "Aren't you pretty?"

He nodded as he saw himself, and his cock stiffened at the sight.

"Now help me finish getting dressed."

He dressed her, and while she put on her makeup, he put his street clothes over the panties and stockings. The stockings felt good on the skin of his legs, and were going to be a constant reminder of his submission to her.

When they got to the front door, she said: "Speech restrictions are off, baby. Until you hear otherwise, you will act normal, and address me as Deborah. Understand?"

He smiled wryly. "Yes, Deborah." He opened the door for her and they left for the street. Once on the sidewalk, she told him to find a cab and bring it to her. He walked against the direction of the one-way traffic to the avenue, where he hailed a cab and had the cabbie drive to where she waited. He hopped out, held the cab door for her to enter, and then scampered around to get in on the other side.

She ordered the cabbie to take them to Bryant Park. They talked about anything and everything as the cab sped uptown. They arrived after two, and the lunch crowd at the restaurant was just beginning to thin out. They not only got a table, but a little privacy from adjacent diners.

They began a game of looking at the other couples and guessing "First date or Married"? "Married and having an affair"? and "How kinky do you think they are?" Everything was normal until it came time to order. She ordered her meal and drink, but when the waitress turned to him, she said: "He's not hungry. He's just keeping me company."

He gave her a quizzical glance as the waitress left.

"Sorry baby," she said in a confidential tone as she leaned forward to pat his belly. "You want to be pretty for me, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Good," she said. "If you want to be pretty for me, we have to start watching your girlish figure. So for the rest of this weekend, I'm putting you on a special diet."

He smiled. "And may I know what the diet is?"

"Me," she replied, with a wicked grin. "What you had last night after dinner will be your complete diet unless I decide otherwise."

"Lucky me," he managed to say without a trace of irony.

"You may get lucky enough to become a keeper," she smiled, and pressed the button on the remote, causing him to grit his teeth and shift uncomfortably in his chair as the egg vibrated in his anus. He swallowed hard, and tried to concentrate on looking "normal" as shivers of pleasure ran up his spine.

After lunch, she decided on a walk. She led him past the Library and turned right on Fifth Avenue, heading downtown. They walked and talked casually, laughing and enjoying the mild autumn day in Manhattan.

At 27th Street, she decided that she wanted to see the new exhibit at the Museum of Sex. It was titled: "Kink: Geography of the Erotic Imagination". They wandered around the museum, looking at exhibits of Leather, Bondage, Shoe Fetish, Pony play, Adult Babies, Watersports, Medical Play...every variation imaginable. There were costumes, props, photographs, videos, paintings and drawings. There was a recreation of a dungeon scene. Walking with her, near her, talking with her, and knowing that he wore her panties and stockings under his street clothes made him tingle and blush as they handled the masks, whips, chains and other toys.

They stopped in front of a painting depicting a table overflowing with fruit. The centerpiece was a naked girl, lying on her back, wrists and ankles bound together just below her pelvis, and with an apple gagging her mouth. It was titled "Cannibal Play".

He felt a long jolt of the vibrating egg as they stood there, staring at that painting.

"That will be you, baby," she said, turning off the egg.

They left the museum, and she led him down Fifth Avenue and turned west toward Seventh Avenue. They talked about many things, but as they crossed Seventh and headed for Eighth, she asked him if he was getting hungry and thirsty yet. He said yes, and her reply was "Good, I want you hungry and thirsty for me."

She steered him into a shop in the middle of the block that was one of the largest BDSM retailers in the City. As they entered the shop, one of the women behind the counter exchanged waves with Mistress Deborah.

She stopped him, and leaned over to whisper to him.

"I want my egg back, pet," she said. "Go to the basement, find the rest room, retrieve and clean my egg, and fetch it to me. Go!"

She walked off to greet her acquaintance, and he found the stairs down to the basement level, and then the restroom. He dropped his pants, which exposed his stocking-clad legs. Just seeing the thigh-highs made him hard and breathe faster. He extracted the egg, pulled up his pants, and then cleaned and dried the egg.

When he got upstairs, he found Deborah and her friend in the corset section. Deborah introduced her friend as Cheryl. She then introduced him as "This is Michael; he's new, and still rough around the edges. Give me the egg, my pet."

Blushing, he handed her the egg. Cheryl laughed, and Deborah looked straight into his eyes and gave him a very wicked grin.

"I've decided we need a few things," said Deborah, "and Cheryl is going to help us find them. Thank her for helping us."

He swallowed hard and said, "Thank you for the help, Cheryl."

Cheryl giggled, and his humiliation skyrocketed. That seemed to please his Mistress, who was beaming as she listened to the exchange.

"Your Mistress tells me you need a little help in becoming more shapely for her," said Cheryl. She looked him over, flipped through some corsets on hangers, and pulled out a black leather one with cut-outs for the breasts, holding it up for display. "I think this may be your size. Try it on for us."

He took the corset, wondering if Deborah had also shared his special diet with her friend. He was mortified, and yet almost sweaty with excitement. "Where?" he asked, looking about for a dressing room.

"Here," replied Deborah sternly. She took the corset from him. "Take off your sweater and shirt." He hesitated, so she added "Now!" He obeyed, and soon the corset was wrapped around his torso. It took a moment to learn to breathe as it was tightened. Cheryl made some adjustments, and then stepped away to examine the finished product. Deborah let out a low wolf whistle that made him close his eyes in embarrassment. Cheryl chuckled.

"That's a great fit," said Cheryl, "and a real improvement."

"And of course I love the design," said Deborah, reaching into the cutouts to fondle his nipples. He audibly moaned, and that humiliated him more. He was tired, hungry, thirsty, wearing a corset in a retail store, and becoming aroused as she played with his nipples in front of someone he hadn't met until that afternoon. At that moment, he would have preferred the crop across his ass.

He opened his eyes, and tried to speak, but nothing came out. That made Deborah smile.

"Drop your pants, pet," she said.

He nodded, and very slowly unbuckled his belt and let his pants slide down his leg, revealing the thong, garter and stockings. Cheryl stepped forward, and quickly switched the stockings from the clips on the garter belt to the clips on his corset. It felt very strange to feel her fingers and nails on his skin, and have her head within several inches of his panty-covered penis. He looked to Deborah, and saw excitement and amusement in her eyes.

"Enjoy the moment," she said, as Cheryl next grabbed the garter and pulled it down to the floor. Again, she stepped away, looked him up and down, and said, "Much better, I think."

Mistress nodded. "Pull up your pants, pet," she said, and after he had done so, she tossed him the shirt and sweater. "Put these on." She then turned to Cheryl. "We'll take that one." He finished dressing much quicker than he had undressed, then stepped out of the garter belt and leaned over to pick it up from the floor.