Control

The first thing you hear is the sound of tight leather slowly being pulled over soft flesh.

That's when you know she's arrived.

Yet you don't dare look up at her.

Head down, kneeling on the floor just as she expects of you.

Then comes the familiar clicking of her heels.

But nothing more. No words.

Much as you crave it, you know she won't offer you the privilege of hearing her sweet voice.

Not until she deems you worthy.

So you kneel, and you wait.

Eyes focused on the glint of the golden chain resting on the floor in front of you.

The one attached to the collar around your neck.

The one she gifted you.

The one you wear proudly for her.

Her heels click ever closer, and soon enough, they are right before your eyes.

Two black stilettoes.

One on either side of the resting chain.

You so desperately want to look up.

To gaze upon her beauty.

But still you hold back.

Just as she wants.

Slowly, a single black leather gloved hand enters your field of vision.

Its wide cuff open and inviting.

You watch as the fingers gently take hold of the chain.

It rises off the ground, until the whole length of it hangs in the air.

A quick tug pulls at your neck.

And still, you don't dare raise your head.

Not until she allows it.

The chain hangs there, as does your head.

Waiting.

Just as you had for her arrival.

You'd wait forever for her.

Then, after what feels like hours, another tug.

Followed by that which you've craved.

Her voice.

"Good evening, slave."

The sound of her sweet voice, with its dominant tone and melt-worthy accent, washes over you, and slowly, you raise your head to greet her.

And the moment you do, you feel your heart catch in your throat.

She's breath-taking.

As always.

Red hair and black leather, your favorite color scheme.

Red lips twisted into a wicked smirk that fills your mind with a flurry of emotions.

Lust.

Fear.

Desire.

Submission.

"Good evening, Mistress."

The words drift out of your mouth as your eyes desperately take in every inch of her body.

Her thick, strong, bare legs. So lovely, do powerful.

Her tight black leather dress. Clinging to her incredible curves.

Her bountiful bosom, covered save for the perfect amount of teasing cleavage.

And her gloves.

Just past wrist length yet as commanding as if they covered the whole of her arm.

She captivates you.

Just as she has from the moment you first laid eyes on her.

Or rather, the moment she'd spotted you and knew in an instant that you were just what she was looking for.

A sub.

A servant.

A slave.

It was the role you were born for.

She barely had to do a thing, simply offered you a gloved hand to kiss, along with an invitation to follow her.

And you did.

Back to her flat.

And to your new life.

You never questioned a single thing, her desires matching your own so well.

All your life you'd dreamed of something like this, and then it was real.

And it was only the beginning.

With a tug of the chain, you kneel at attention, and she smiles for a moment before turning her back to you and beginning to walk away.

Without question, you follow.

On all fours, like the loyal, obedient dog that you are.

Slowly, she leads you down the hall where you'd been waiting for her.

Past the kitchen and the bathroom and towards the bedroom.

A place you are quite familiar with.

It once belong to you after all.

Just like your mind, your body and your soul.

But now they are hers and her alone.

As they should be.

You'd give her anything and everything.

And it still wouldn't be enough.

Inside, she takes a seat on the bed and stares down at you.

You wait with bated breath to see just what she wishes of you tonight.

As always, she takes her time.

Her face betrays nothing. Her crimson lips pursed together in contemplation even as she knows precisely what she wants you to do.

But you don't.

Your mind races with the countless possibilities. All the things she's asked of you in the past.

Would she ask you to remove her heels and rub her feet?

Would she demand you worship the ground she walks on?

Would she take you over her knee and spank you for some misdeed or another?

Or would she simply sit there in silence and drink in the sight of your complete and utter submission to her?

Only she knows the answer.

And all you can do is wait and find out.

Her gloved hands fiddle with the chain, the sound of it jingling music to your ears.

You still remember the day she presented it to you.

As well as the collar.

At first, you'd been a little apprehensive.

But that didn't last.

No attempt at resistance ever did.

She knew just what buttons to press, what things to say.

And what to wear to get you to agree to anything.

One pair of gloves pulled onto her arms later, and the collar was around your neck.

A place it had yet to leave ever since.

Nor would it.

You can't even imagine what it'd be like not to wear it.

Just as you can't imagine what it'd be like not to be kneeling before her.

It's the only place you ever wish to be anymore.

And she knows it.

"Tell me, slave, who owns you?"

You gaze up at her, her dark eyes staring deeply into yours.

You know what she wants from you tonight.

The same thing she wants every night.

Your submission.

Only this time, she wants to hear it.

And you don't dare deny her.

"You do Mistress."

She gently pulls at the chain, beckoning you closer.

"Who rules your thoughts slave?"

"You do Mistress."

Another tug.

You're mere inches from her now.

"Who controls every part of you, slave?"

"You do Mistress."

One last pull,

You're kneeling by her legs.

"Who do you live to serve, slave?"

Before you can answer, her free gloved hand reaches over and covers your mouth.

You breathe in the scent of her sweet, soft, perfumed leather, and you feel your knees begin to buckle.

Yet she asked you a question.

And you will answer her.

"You, Mistress."

She lets go of your face, then opens her legs.

You stare straight ahead at her glistening lips with wide eyes.

Another pull, and you know what else she expects of you tonight.

"Good boy... Now serve me."

Her legs raise up as the chain pulls you closer, then close tightly around your head.

The scent of her fills your nostrils, gloved fingers slipping through your hair and taking hold of you.

You prepare to do as she's asked, but before you do, there's still one more thing to say.

"Yes Mistress."

Only then do you begin.

To worship her.

To serve her.

To give up all control to her.

Just as you have since she came into your life.

The best decision you ever made.

The best decision she ever made for you.