Snow

February. Blizzard-like conditions. Snow piling up faster than I'd ever seen. And cold!

Thank God for my office, just down a flight of stairs in my home. I'd canceled my appointments for the day, both those I was to attend and the ones with people coming here. The only person I couldn't reach was the woman from Theater Direct, but I suspected she'd been stopped by the elements as had everyone else.

It was a bit frustrating to be storm-stayed but the positive side of my nature took over. I braved three steps out the back door to the cord of wood I'd ordered, retrieved a few logs, shook them off, went inside and built a cozy little blaze in the hearth. Next came a warm and fuzzy pair of slippers and a trip to the kitchen to make a large mug of hot chocolate.

What the heck, I thought, relax and enjoy it.

Looking out my front window, even the street was rapidly becoming impassable. The snow depth was well over a foot, just too tricky for most urban drivers. But, throw up a block and there'll always be somebody to challenge it.

Sure enough, along came one of those trendy 4-wheel-drive thingamajigs, just booting through the drifts. I was surprised to see it slow, then turn into my driveway.

No! Could this be the appointment I couldn't find to cancel?

Sure enough, a woman was getting out and battling her way through the wind and driving snow up my front stairs. I hurried to the door, watched her progress, then opened it just as she got to the top step.

In she came to much stomping of boots and shaking-off of snow. I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. She had a sense of humor and laughed right along with me.

"I'm Alan Davis," I said.

"I'm Sandi Jones."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Jones. Does the post office credo also apply to your organization?"

We were still laughing.

"It probably seems that way, doesn't it?" she said. "Actually, I live a good deal farther north but your place is right on my way. Even with the 4-wheel drive, this isn't a day fit for man nor beast, never mind me."

I took her coat, hung it, and moved her wet boots onto the boot tray. Inviting her down to my office, I made sure she was comfortable and offered some of my special brew. "I was just having some hot chocolate. Would you like a cup?"

"That's refreshing," she said. "Usually I get pitched for drinks a whole lot stronger."

That made sense. My visual inspection revealed an attractive woman who'd likely be on the receiving end of a fair number of drink offers. I was amused that mine was so offbeat. Miss Jones, with her boots off, was considerably shorter than my 6' 3", just about five feet. Her dark hair flowed down past her shoulders, and her gray/blue eyes were captivating.

Reaching into her bag, she extracted a pair of shoes that must have had, astoundingly, 4" heels and slipped them on. Although she was now seated, I knew the height difference between us had just been narrowed considerably. She couldn't know it, but I've always had a fantasy about being at the loving mercy of a woman so much shorter than me.

The couch where she now sat is positioned to the right of my desk. For me to see anyone seated there requires I turn my head a full 90-degrees. From her perspective, she watched my profile as I worked the computer keyboard to bring up her company's file.

"Suppose we just relax and talk for a bit first," she said. "I've still got a bit of coming down to do after that drive."

That was okay with me. I turned in my swivel chair, letting my right arm lie atop the desk, to look at her. I was gratified that the sweater she wore was snug enough to reveal her womanly charms. The skirt, hiked a good six inches above her crossed knee, gave a rewarding look at a pair of lovely legs and, of course, those spectacular, black patent shoes. My benefit was the couch being a good 10 feet across the deep pile carpeting from where I sat. Looking at her and taking in her entire physical presentation was a whole lot easier than had she been closer.

The snow continued to beat against the windows and it was getting darker and darker. I already had one light turned on and was tempted to hit a few more switches. But Sandi stopped me, saying she liked the glow from the fireplace, that artificial lighting would spoil it.

There was a certain chemistry at work here and, gradually, I began losing my business hat, swapping it instead for a more sociable and flirty one.

"How far north do you live? I asked.

"I'm up near Orillia, not far from the lake."

"You know, of course, there's no way you're going to make it home tonight, don't you?"

"I thought as much," she said, "and there are lots more people in my shoes. Have you got a spare bed?" she smilingly asked.

"In fact, I do. A nice king size in the guest room. It's yours if you want it."

"Won't your wife object?"

"I don't think so. She's on the coast at a business meeting. Won't be back until Friday."

"Well," she said, "let's just take it easy and see what happens. If worse comes to worst, I'll phone home and tell my husband I'm staying in the city."

Throughout the banter I'd noticed her body language becoming more and more womanly, with less the corporate poise. It was an observation made despite my eyes constantly returning to her shoes. She seemed to be deliberately and provocatively putting on a bit of a foot show for me. What the hell, I thought, say something: "Those have got to be the most dangerous pair of shoes I've ever seen."

"You're right. They are dangerous, for a whole lot of reasons..." She stopped, leaving me hanging. "... but they do draw a lot of attention," she concluded.

"I can understand why," I said. "Not the least of reasons being sexual, I'll bet."

"Do they turn you on?"

"Absolutely. There's a crass phrase used by some people to describe high heels."

"Oh, you mean 'fuck me' shoes."

She got me. I was flustered. "Um, yeah. That's right."

"Well, these don't qualify for that. These are more the kind of shoes a Dominatrix wears. At least, that's why I wear them."

By now the score was two-zip for her side.

"A Dominatrix? I asked."

"Yes. That's what I am. Do you have any difficulties with that... or any questions?"

"Only one. Can we please put our time together to better use?"

"We certainly can. Come closer to me. Bring your cocoa and sit on this beautifully carpeted floor. Mmm, yes, right here at my feet."

"To set the tone for our time together," she continued, "there is one thing I want you to do for me right now." Wiggling the foot on her crossed leg, she said, "Say hello to me properly."

I brought the D/s situation into the open by responding, "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress," before pressing my lips against her shoe, sliding my tongue over the patent leather. I gently caressed the pointed toe of each shoe with my lips.

"Very good," she said, slipping out of the pump, raising her foot and lightly brushing my lips with her stocking foot. "Open your mouth," she demanded, easing her toes between my lips. "Suck."

I closed my eyes, reveling in the pleasure. Her toes moved gently as I mindlessly sucked. Slowly, she withdrew her foot from my face and indicated I could resume my relaxed position on the floor.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress. Your shoes, feet and toes are delicious."

"Tell me, do you have any experience? If so, what?"

"Yes, Mistress, I do. Bondage, discipline, humiliation, obedience training, dog training, cum eating, cock and ball torture, gag and bit training."

"What about anal?"

"No, Mistress. I'm a virgin."

"What are your fetishes?"

"High heeled shoes and boots, Mistress. Breasts in sexy lingerie, feet, and licking and kissing a Domina's soft, delicious buttocks."

"Do you have any toys, Alan?"

"Yes, Mistress. In the cabinet. I've got a collar and leash, a cock and ball harness, wrist and ankle restraints, two whips - one's a cat'o nine tails, the other is similar but with a harsher bite - and a 6' leather thong."

"Then you have the essentials, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress. Would you like to see them?"

"Not just yet. Don't be too eager. Let's just finish our hot chocolate first."

We drank in silence, me very much aware that she continued using my first name. At last she spoke, "Hmm, this storm just isn't going away, is it? I'd better call home and tell them they won't be seeing me anytime soon. May I use your phone?"

"Certainly, Mistress. Please sit at my desk."

I watched as she walked the distance to my chair. Her gait was strong, her body - not in the least slight for a five-footer - was solid, well-formed, toned and muscular. The sway of her ass was a marvel in itself. It was then she sealed our relationship. "Crawl over here, slave. I'm going to use you as a foot rest while I talk."

Hurriedly, I crawled to her, positioned myself on all fours beside my desk, felt her legs come to rest atop my back, and listened as her connection was made. After the predictable weather chitchat, she made it clear she was staying in the city. Her husband, I presumed - based on the one-sided conversation to which I was privy - encouraged her to do so. She said she'd phone in the morning thus ending the call.

"We've got all night, slave. Do you think you can handle it?"

"Please put me to the test, Mistress. I hope I can be trained to properly please you."

"I'm sure you will be, Alan, but you're considerably overdressed to be my slave. Take everything, off. Put it where it belongs. Before you come back to me, I want you to have a shower - clean everywhere - and brush your teeth. I have some calls to make so take your time."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

She was still at my desk when I returned. Naked, I approached from her left and knelt on the carpeting. She was writing in her daytimer so I remained silent, waiting.

"Good boy," she said, finishing her writing. "Thank you for not disturbing me."

"You're welcome, Mistress."

Mistress turned the chair so her legs swung out from the desk's well, placed her feet not six inches from my knees, and looked directly down at my nakedness. "There's a wonderful feeling I have, slave, about dominating you based solely on my femininity. I love your being so tall. Seeing you at my feet and on your knees, anxious to serve and obey little me, is - to be succinct - a turn-on. How much do you weigh?"

"Two hundred and fifteen pounds, Mistress."

"And what's your heritage?"

"Mistress, this fair skin and blue eyes is the direct result of a couple of Scandinavians falling in love some years ago."

"And I just know," she said, "that lovely skin would mark up quite nicely."

I hung my head. "Yes, Mistress. It does."

"Get me the thong and your collar, slave, then return to me and remain standing."

I gave her both. She beckoned I step back and bow, to present my neck. I bent the appropriate angle and Mistress encircled my neck with the leather, buckling it snugly. While she was putting it on me, I felt a combination of dread and excitement. Dread that I may have bitten off more than I could chew. Excitement at how much this woman - so much smaller than me - had already enslaved my mind.

"I see the years have done a job up top, slave. I'm glad - for your sake - you don't wear a toupee. Can you imagine what I'd be putting you through? Stand up straight and move close to me."

Mistress's hand found my genitals. She probed and fondled, heightening my arousal, before using the thong to tie and separate my testicles. She then stood and brought the thong-ends to my collar - pulled them tightly - and tied them to the D-rings there. That forced my cock and balls up and out. Resuming her seat, she put me at attention back on my knees. She didn't want to see any slack in the thong, she said, and that's why she wanted good posture.

"Lower your head, slave. Your duties are to keep the fire at its present level until bedtime. If that means getting more wood from outside the door you will get it dressed the way you are. You will make me a nice supper. You will serve me at my bath. Between times, you will be at my feet at all times except when I've given permission to rise. Now, crawl and get me your toys. All of them."

Bound in the ankle and wrist restraints, each wrist connected backward to each ankle, the leash attached to my collar, Mistress had me watch as she undressed. Seductively straining, she pulled the sweater up over her head and off in one motion, revealing the lacy, black push-up bra that so enhanced her figure. The fleshy portions of her beautiful breasts spilled over the bra cups. She could see my appreciation, the erection giving me away.

"Show me how much you like what you see, slave. Pump your hips in my direction. Imagine for only a moment that you might actually be allowed to cum. That's it, pet, back and forth. Perhaps you'd like my hand around it. Would you?"

"Oh, yes, please Mistress. You are fabulous."

She reached down to me... her little hand taking the form of that familiar cock-holding shape. I pushed my hips out as far as I could to meet her. She touched the tip, looked at my precum at the end of her finger, then pushed it into my mouth. My eyes caught hers as she said, "Yes, taste it ... you must always know your taste for me."

I swirled my tongue around her finger and thanked her. She reached behind, unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. Now she presented herself in only those stupendous spikes, black stay-ups, black panties and, of course, the beautiful bra. Sandi turned, bent forward, then backed until her buttocks were immediately before my face.

"Lick it, slave. Lick your new Mistress' ass. Tell me how gorgeous it is."

I pressed my face and my lips first to her right buttock, kissing and licking it, then the left, then back again. "Mistress," I said, "Thank you for coming to me today. Thank you for staying. I love your beautiful ass. Please let me adore it forever."

She stepped forward, turned, and said, "Perhaps a little later. Lower your head to the floor. Bring your face to the toes of my shoes. I'm going to warm you up a bit, slave. While I whip you, I want your lips and tongue on my shoes. I want foot worship equal in intensity to my gift of discipline."

Not a moment's hesitation. The braids from the cat struck my right buttock just as I was lowering my lips to Mistress Sandi's amazing shoe. The jolt made me lift my head.

"It will be much worse, pet, if you don't obey," she said, striking again.

I moved to her leathered toe and kissed it as the third stroke fell.

I don't know how much she flogged me that day. I do know I was alternately taken between absolute eroticism and outright pain. She knew how to use a whip. This wasn't one of those candy-coated play floggings. The passion I felt as my mouth made love to her feet and pumps was overwhelming. The more she punished, the more I worshiped her.

Mistress Sandi was keenly attuned to where I was, and said so: "Ah, slave. It seems my method of discipline is having a positive effect on you. I want to whip you much harder... and I will. But not now. You have captured my imagination as, I can see, I have captured yours. Turn your head, slave. Look towards the mirror. Isn't that truly beautiful?"

I turned to look and was stunned to see the image of her as she continued whipping lightly, me in bondage with my head at her high-heeled feet. "Yes, Mistress. It's a magnificent and classic portrait of Female Domination and male submission."

We were caught up in it until Mistress broke the spell by announcing I could now have the freedom to stand, go to the kitchen and make supper for her. She was specific about only one place setting, then she released me. Before leaving, I knelt upward and kissed her hand, thanking her for my discipline.

"You're welcome, slave. Now go."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

There was still some roast beef in the fridge so I used the steamer to bring it back to a nice, hot and moist tastiness, prepared potatoes and peas, plus gravy. Sandi had remained in my office throughout. I set the table and called, "Supper's ready, Mistress."

No response.

I repeated my call before recognizing my mistake.

Hurriedly, I ran down the stairs, dropped to my knees and crawled to her. "I'm sorry, Mistress. Forgive me. Please, Mistress, I have prepared your meal and it is ready to be served."

Mistress Sandi calmly picked up the whip, grasped it appropriately, and lashed me ten times. "Don't ever make that mistake again, pet. If you do, it would cause me to have to punish you. If you think you might enjoy punishment.... don't. You will not."

I brushed a tear from my eye and said, "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

She snapped the leash on my collar and walked me like a dog to the stairs. "Stay on all fours, slave. Crawl up."

At the top of the stairs, I was made to stay on hands and knees as Mistress found her way to the solitary setting at the dining room table. Once there, she unsnapped the leash, gave me permission to rise and to begin serving dinner. I brought her a glass of Chateau St. Germain and stood waiting as Mistress tasted it. It met her requirements and I was excused to return to the kitchen. I prepared her plate and brought it to her. She complimented me on its presentation and told me to remain standing at her side as she ate. Because of our height difference, my genitals were almost at a level with the side of her face as she ate and drank.

"Stroke it for me, slave. I don't like seeing you soft."

In no time, I was fully erect. Mistress allowed me to continue pulling myself and, after a while, turned her head, looked at me, leaned forward and gave my cock a quick lick. I shuddered in joy.

"Get under the table at my feet, slave. You know that's where you truly belong."

I watched as she slipped off her shoes and brought her stocking-covered toes to my mouth, gently exploring my chin and lips before insinuating them in. I sucked each one, licking and kissing in absolute bliss. But she withdrew much too soon. I was savoring the undeniable pleasure of her presence, yet also aware of my embarrassment and humiliation.

"Puppy," she said. "I have something for you. Come to Mistress." Her hand extended down to me held a piece of meat. "Crawl out, dog. I have a reward for you if you do your tricks right."

Out in the open, she had me roll over and sit up to beg. Kneeling with my hands and arms up in the classic begging pose, she brought the meat to my mouth and fed me.

"Good boy," she said, patting my head and sending me back under the table. "Don't let your cock get soft, dog."

Handing me her shoe, she said, "Hold it to your lips. Lick it as eagerly as if I were actually wearing it while I finish my meal."

I was so excited I wanted to cum, right then. I whimpered under the table, continuing my licking and stroking.

"Does the horny little dog want to cum for his Mistress?"

"Oh, yes. Please, Mistress. May I?"

"No, slave, not yet. I want you to feel and to know that denying you the pleasure is my prerogative but that it is you who actually has the final say. Deny yourself, slave. Don't cum, for your Mistress and for yourself. I know it's frustrating, pet, but in the end you will know that your own denial is that much sweeter when you do it for me."

Agonizingly, I agreed and thanked her and continued worshipping her shoe while jerking myself. She appeared pleased. Mistress Sandi had usurped all of my control. I belonged to her. I knew it. She had captivated my imagination and my heart... And I wanted to obey her, to show her how much I adored and worshiped her. I kept myself on the brink of completion, for both of us.

"Take the dishes away now, slave. Crawl out, stand up and clean everything."

She carried the leash over to the living room chesterfield, sat, crossed her legs and looked out the window at the continuing blizzard. In a lighthearted vein, she said, "We're all alone, slave. No one's coming in and no one's leaving. They can't, we can't. Who knows what the morning will be like? I might have to stay here all day, too. I wonder if you could handle that."