The Wait Ch. 01

As he woke he felt the repeated and overwhelming need to see her, be in her presence, and be under her spell, his glorious and wonderful Mistress. She had banned him from any contact with her now for days, sending him away to entertain himself, and he truly, deeply hated it. She was testing him, he knew that, and now, days later, he understood why. She wanted him to know for certain that he did, beyond any doubt, long to be by her side and serve her as often as she would allow or demand. By her absence, she demanded that he confirm his own place at her feet, to himself and know wholeheartedly that it was what he truly wanted.

No messages overnight to his phone from her, again. This pained him terribly.

Having spent a pleasant enough evening in the local bar with some friends, he now uncoiled himself from his bed and walked naked to his kitchen to make himself some coffee. All night he had been thinking of her. Constantly in his thoughts, she held his attention entirely. She knew it too, which made her hold over him all the more powerful and seductive. As he stirred his coffee he wondered if she may break her own silence and contact him in some way today, but he could only hope. He felt so despondent now. These had become the longest days of his life. Her immense control over him was now so apparent. Understanding her test he felt such an urgency to be allowed the opportunity to feed her needs, wants and desire. This, his own need, flooded through every fibre of him like his own life blood. Her cock, which had, once upon a time, been his own to do with as he wished, now stood hard and erect before him. He wanted her to see it. He had no place for it in his solitude away from her.

She had set him various tasks to complete over the last few days which he had carried out diligently and with pride, in her honour. He had e-mailed her the descriptions and pictures, which she always demanded, as evidence of his completed tasks but she had not replied to any of them. This made him feel so hollow. She had allowed him one ejaculation per day, in her honour, and for these he had at first been grateful, but being unable to serve her bore so much more frustration in him now than his own desire to cum.

Having buried himself in his work over this time without her he had managed to produce some amazing work initially, but, as the time passed he slowly realised that the lack of contact with her served as more of a hindrance to his work because he craved her presence so badly. Eventually he became so preoccupied by his desire for his Mistress that he practically stopped working altogether, hoping that she would make a demand of him soon and again he could feel fulfilled and his inner balance could be restored.

Standing in his kitchen, drinking his coffee while her cock stood erect but ignored, he twiddled the pendant that hung around his neck on a thin leather strap. It was her mark that he wore and he looked down at it and took comfort from the fact that this item made him her property. She had given him this pendant a long time ago and it had never left him by his own volition. She had once removed it from him, herself, telling him he was free to leave her, as she discarded him one evening, but, he simply crumbled without being her slave and begged her to replace the pendant around his neck, making her ownership over him complete. She owned him now and he had to sense this mark, her mark, about him in order to feel whole and complete.

Standing for a long time under the flow of the shower, he assessed his submissive position again as he had so many times over the last few days. Sadness filled him as steam filled the bathroom. Time passed as he remained in that place turning thoughts around in his mind. Had she discarded him for good? Perhaps she had grown tired of him? This thought filled him with dread and despair, his stomach knotting as a result. Life without her would certainly be a poor impression of the full and complete life he had come to know and hold dear since she had owned him.

He stood in his bedroom; a small towel wrapped around his waist, and quickly made his bed. She might, one day, turn up unannounced and view his humble abode so he always prepared it in her honour just in case. Dreams of being able to make love to his Mistress in his own bed always filled him with lust and desire, but he knew it would never happen. She may never come here and he knew it. Having dried himself he dressed quickly, and made his way to his laptop hoping that she may have sent him an e-mail overnight. Normally he would have masturbated in her honour already by this hour in the day but today he just couldn't. What was the point? There were no e-mails from her. He now felt so totally cold, empty and alone, yet he continued to yearn for her, his Mistress, his Goddess.

-0-

Sat in his chair wondering what he could possibly do to pass his time today, a Saturday; he drifted off again into his fantasy world, his Mistress dominant over even his thoughts. Drifting in and out of reality he felt swoons of need and desire sweep over him, surrounding and smothering him. Why won't she contact me? Surely he would implode soon as a result of his own need to serve her.

Suddenly, he was jolted back into focus as the buzzer of the intercom to his flat screeched through the silence. The postman maybe. Not wishing to talk to, or see, anyone today he pressed the "Entry" button on the handset and the electronic alarm ceased. He returned to his chair and flopped down into it heavily. The postman would have to leave the delivery on the doormat and depart. He hoped the delivery would not require a signature. He didn't want to open the door to anyone.

He heard footsteps on the stairs outside his flat. They didn't sound familiar. Certainly not the burly postman. Perhaps one of his friends from last night had decided to come and see him, bored by their own Saturday already, but for much more different reasons to his own now. Sharply, the footsteps stopped just short of his front door and he concluded that it must be the postman. His brain automatically waited for the footsteps to move away again but they did not. Someone was standing just outside his front door. Just standing there. He had no desire to find out who it was or see anyone today. Whoever it was would have to presume he was in bed and go away again, so he tried to ignore them.

Unexpectedly, there was a heavy thud on the door; a single, firm, solid knock which startled him a little. He refused to move from his chair. Whoever it was could just go away. He waited again hoping to hear the footsteps move away but there was only silence. He became a little annoyed. One of his friends was obviously outside now and he knew they would want his attention all day. All he wanted to do was to sit and immerse himself in thoughts and dreams of his Mistress. He didn't need this hassle at all.

Eventually, and reluctantly, he sighed, pulling himself up out of the chair and made his way to the door. He did not bother to check the peep hole and with dread in his heart that his thoughts of her would be interrupted by an outsider, he opened the door.

Stunned beyond reason and without thought, he instantly fell to his knees. There she stood before him, his Mistress, his Goddess, in all her power and glory on his doorstep! Deep joy filled him immediately. Instantaneously, he felt the inner warmth fire up within himself and it felt so, so good to be finally in her presence again. He bowed his head, his entire body shaking uncontrollably now, his throat too dry to speak, his heart racing in his chest. He could feel her warmth, supremacy and dominance and it filled every fibre of his being like a massive hit of heroin. Total euphoria overwhelmed him, now, and he felt a tear escape his eye and run down his cheek, he was so unbelievably happy in this moment. He dare not move at all. His knees felt uncomfortable on the coir door mat but he just could not move. He was shaking too much.

All he could see were her beautiful feet encased in sumptuously elegant boots he had not seen before. He loved them already and they suited her feet so deliciously. Long pointed patent leather toes with a shard of metal along the tip of the toe of each boot, and long metallic spiked heels. He wanted to worship these boots that contained her feet so perfectly but he must wait for her command.

Gently she placed a hand upon the top of his head and softly spoke to him.

"Have you missed me?" She purred

He nodded his agreement, quivering at the sound of her voice, shaking uncontrollably. It had been so long since she had spoken to him. He felt he would burst now with complete contentment.

"Then, let me in, my slave" She demanded, more firmly.

Quickly he shuffled on his knees, his head still bowed, moving to one side in order to allow her past him. She sauntered into his flat, her long leather coat tails brushing past his face as she did so. He felt so consumed by her already that he felt quite faint and had to control his breathing to stay focussed and alert. In two short words she had confirmed that she still owned him and gratefully he felt whole again once more.

She moved with grace and purpose around his living room throwing her keys down onto the table with a crash which startled him. He heard her peel away the long leather coat and drape it across the back of his chair, the smell of the expensive leather already filling his room and nostrils. She strode around the room obviously surveying his home then came to a stop three paces in front of him. Again he caught a glimpse of the toes of her boots and admired the glistening shine of their perfection.

"Look at me!" She ordered in a controlled voice.

He lifted his head and allowed his eyes to work slowly upwards soaking in each millimetre of her body as it became revealed to him. The boots were masterpieces in their own rights being thigh length, highly polished and obviously crafted to perfection. He wondered if they were bespoke and if she had ordered them to her own personal specifications. Above the boots she wore incredibly tight black trousers which hugged the contours of her hips and thighs smoothly without a seam or stitch in sight. She was perfection to him already. The trousers were made of a soft elasticised material and he wondered if they may be jodhpurs, leggings or something similar. He noted how the material gripped tightly to her body and defined the contours of her perfectly. He ached now, so much so that it burned him inside.

His eyes continued to ascend and he saw that she was wearing a very deep and thick leather cinched belt about her waist. Not quite a corset but still pronouncing her waist, hips and bust. Her upper body was contained within a skin tight black top which fitted snugly around her breasts, arms and shoulders defining her faultlessly. The sleeves of the top were long and ended at her slim beautiful wrists which were now propped on her hips as was her normal stance. Her hands were contained in tidy leather gloves which she always wore whilst driving. Glittering as always about her neck hung her pendant which he had come to admire as part of her. She was indeed perfection stood before him. He dared not look at her face. At times she denied him this pleasure and at others he stopped himself as she could entirely overpower him with one look from her beautiful eyes.

"Look at me!" She cooed, again, as she moved in closer.

He allowed his eyes to move up to her face now; craning his neck up to her as she stood immediately in front of him, inches away, his neck straining to look directly upwards. Then, in one split second, she hooked him! Her eyes made contact with his and he was lost in her, all sense of himself totally surrendered to her in a single gaze. She smiled, knowing the response in his own eyes and gently stroked the side of his face.

"Which door leads to your bedroom?" She asked, softly.

"That one, my beautiful Goddess" he replied, almost choking on his own words, briefly raising his hand to point to his bedroom door.

"Good", she replied, moving away from him, "Follow me!" She demanded.

He shuffled behind her on his hands and knees like a faithful dog, still fully clothed in his normal weekend attire, marvelling at the way her boots sparkled and glistened in the light and the perfection of the fit around her gloriously long legs.

She seated herself on the edge of his bed and lighted a cigarette. He was overwhelmed with entire gratitude that at long last his bed had now been graced with the physical presence of his Mistress, his Goddess. He would cherish this moment forever.

"Strip now!" She ordered rather flippantly, blowing smoke into the air, not looking at him, while peeling off her leather driving gloves and folding them neatly between her beautiful hands.