The Alpha Gender Ch. 13

You wake up in the underground parking garage at the Hilton, smelling a rose scent. Mistress Olivia is bending over you, the feel of her breasts warm and soft compressing against your cheek and neck. Her long black hair brushes your face as she releases your seatbelt and straightens up, lifting you out of the seat like a baby, with no apparent difficulty.

"Oh. Wow I'm sorry Mistress! Was I asleep for long?"

"Fifteen minutes. I'm just glad I don't have to find a shopping cart for you now." She jokes.

"Ha ha! Uh, can you put me down now, Ma'am?"

She cocks an eyebrow and looks at you sideways.

"Can you put me down Ma'am... please?"

"Maybe. Uncomfortable? If you haven't noticed, I don't mind making men squirm... at all. It's amusing to me, to be honest. And it quickens your psychological acceptance."

You laugh uneasily. "I understand Ma'am."

"Here you go boy." She slides her left hand down to your butt and lowers you to the concrete, but releases you when your toes just barely touch the ground. You lose your balance forward and stumble, barely saving yourself from face-planting. Your face feels hot as you blush with embarrassment. You busy yourself collecting your laptop bag and papers in the front seat, avoiding eye contact with Mistress.

You nod to her when you have the last of your papers. She clicks her remote, and the gull-wing doors close elegantly with a soft chirp. You follow her to the penthouse glass express elevator, watching the motion of her firm, round buttocks in the tight tan slacks. After a few floors, when you've risen above the garage and lobby, the view opens up and you can see downtown LA at night. As the elevator rises silently, both of you staring straight ahead, she says, "I know you're hungry. We can order room service, but I have a workout tonight. I don't miss them... ever. You may join me or not as you prefer. We'll have the front desk send up something for your wrists. Hydrogen peroxide and salve."

You glance down. Your wrists are quite raw and bruised from Nina's restraints, though not bleeding. You realize you've been absently rubbing them. "Thank you, Mistress."

She suddenly hammers the red elevator stop button with the bottom of her fist and turns to you as the car jerks to a stop with an obnoxious, loud, short alarm clang. You're startled, and your eyes flick up to her face. Her brow is narrowed, her eyes sharply focused on you. She squares her big shoulders and moves closer, forcing you to look up to meet her gaze. One hand lands heavily on your shoulder, and she lifts your chin with the other. Her bewitching but serious, stern face is framed by the shimmering lights of the nearby hotels and office buildings, refracted by the curved glass of the elevator car. Your head and shoulder blades graze the wall behind you.

"We're crossing the threshold now. From this moment on you belong to me, and will behave as such. Say 'Yes, Mistress'."

Her lips are so close you can feel and smell puffs of breath with each syllable on your face. You clear your throat. "Yes Mistress."

"When I ask you to do something, anything, you will treat it not as a suggestion... not as a request... not as a behest... but as a command. To be followed to the letter, and precisely in the manner specified by me. Say 'Yes, Mistress'."

Your ears are becoming hot, your breath shallow. "Yes Mistress."

Her left eye twitches slightly, and she continues. "You'll often be close to me, intimate... and become familiar with my life. The details of my activities, business interests, friends, associates and personal habits... ce n'est l'intérêt de personne... they are nobody's concern... but my own. If you share information with anyone at all without my express permission, le châtiment... the punishment... will be immediate... and severe."

She squeezes your shoulder and lowers her head, keeping her gaze locked onto yours. Her big, dark eyes seem to bore into your soul. You bite your lip, nodding in response.

"At this point I don't plan to draft an NDA to enforce this, but I may change my mind. Understand that I don't view your obligations to me as existing inside a cadre juridique... a legal framework, but as vows you make directly to me. I will deal with any violations... should they ever occur..." she raises her eyebrows. "personally... with you."

She squeezes your shoulder again, with more force. Her pink tongue glides across her upper lip. "Is that crystal clear boy? If so, say 'Yes, Mistress'."

Her grip is painful, and you would try to pull away if you weren't backed against the wall. The threat is unmistakable. You sink slightly lower, bending your knees. The lights refracted in the glass distort, mimicking the effect of a fun house mirror. They form what looks like a crooked, smiling face, as if the city itself is laughing at you. Your lip trembles as you wince and say, "Yes Mistress".

She smiles thinly and releases you. "Bien."

Slapping the stop button with an open palm, she turns back around to face front. The car resumes its upward journey. You surreptitiously wipe sweat off your upper lip and rotate your shoulder to loosen it.

Nothing is said for the remainder of the ascent. The car slows, stops, and the doors open directly into the living room of her penthouse. You weren't aware the elevator could stop there, but apparently if you're a guest there are "private floors" hidden to visitors. An elegant-looking brunette dressed in a form-hugging black cocktail dress, satin gloves and heels is standing near the elevator, holding a blue-gray men's suit in a plastic bag and pair of shiny black dress shoes.

She addresses Mistress Olivia "Mademoiselle De La Renta, how are you this evening? I believe this is what you requested." Her accent seemed to be Slavic or maybe Russian. She presents the clothing to Mistress.

Mistress steps forward. "Ah, lovely. Thank you so much Annika! This is the boy right here in fact."

She looks the clothing over. "Yes it should be just fine. Hopefully my sizing was correct. And a tie?"

Annika smiles warmly, "Yes Mademoiselle, I have three to choose from with me, as well as socks and a belt."

Mistress looks at you and says, "Take your clothes off boy, and try these on."

Your eyes go wide, and you glance at the lady in black. "Right here?"

Mistress rolls her eyes. "Yes, right here! Quickly!" She claps her hands together twice rapidly, looking at Annika and shaking her head. Annika smiles with a "what can you do?" expression.

You haltingly start removing your rumpled casual clothes, your face growing hot with embarrassment again, standing right in the grand entry with Mistress and a beautiful stranger in a designer dress staring at you. You look down at the floor, doing your best to disregard the situation.

Mistress nudges the lovely lady. Making no attempt to whisper, she says, "In a moment you'll see why I had you take out the crotch, dear."

When you drop your pants and begin awkwardly stepping out of them, Annika giggles and says loudly, "Oh my god, no kidding! Wow, I hope the tailor went far enough! That's really something."

Mistress laughs and says, "Well if not, a little tightness down there isn't the end of the world..." drawing out that last word for effect.

They both laugh heartily. Your face turns a deeper shade of red and you almost lose your balance. Once you've removed your t-shirt, Annika hands you a white dress shirt with a smirk. As you dress, Mistress makes some remarks about the shortcomings of your body, as if you weren't in the room.

"He's still got a long way to go to tighten up and look presentable. Kind of a disaster right now... but salvageable!"

Annika says "It seems so. It's just flab and hair. Er hat einen riesigen Schaft! That's the important thing!" She laughs.

Mistress nods. "Das ist richtig."

That sounded like German or maybe Dutch but you can't be sure. To have these gorgeous, powerful women speaking about you, basically in code, is humiliating in the extreme. You want to hide in a closet and curl up in the fetal position, but you keep your head down and continue to dress as quickly as you can.

Once you've got the shirt, trousers, jacket, socks, shoes and belt on, Mistress looks you over as if you were a mannequin, then grabs your shoulders, turning you around. The quality of the clothing is higher than anything you've ever owned. You suspect it's very expensive. She lifts the jacket's tails up and gropes one of your ass cheeks, then turns you back around to face her. She puts her hand on your balls, and squeezes softly, ostensibly checking the fit of the trousers there. You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. Your cock starts responding to her touch, becoming semi-erect.

Annika says "Tsk, tsk tsk, er bekommt eine kleine Erektion! Imposant!"

Mistress laughs. "Es ist groß, aber ich habe größere gesehen! The tightness Is not bad. Fit is good. Let's see those neckties please."

Annika presents three silk ties. Mistress selects a dark pink one with a repeating embossed fleur de lis pattern on it. You don't normally wear pink, but it is a very beautiful tie. She holds it up to your neck, eyes it, and nods her head.

"Put it on."

"Ma'am." You nod, accept it from her, and tie it using the standard Windsor knot you have always used, then smooth it out over your chest and stomach.

Mistress has a skeptical look on her face. "What do you think, dear?"

You open your mouth to answer, but Annika steps forward and says, "It's okay, but we can do better."

Mistress steps aside, and you lift your chin. Annika quickly undoes your work, smoothes the cloth out and begins tying a knot that seems very unusual and complicated. In her heels, she is just a little taller than you. Her hands have long, strong fingers with beautifully manicured stiletto nails, painted lavender in a satin finish. Her hands work rapidly and expertly. She has deep brown eyes with curled lashes. Her full, glossy lips purse and un-purse as she works. You can't help but take in her perfume through your nostrils. It's intoxicating, like a stroll through an exotic flower garden on a moonlit night.

Mistress, looking over her shoulder, smiles slightly and says "Lovely! That's why you're the best."

In a few seconds, Annika is smoothing out folds in the knot and adjusting the tension. She steps back and nods. "Now that's the best choice for this tie I think. With solid color neckties you can be a little more creative."

Mistress says, "It's amazing, so unique."

Annika turns your face to her with a hand, looks you in the eye and says "Boy, you won't be able to duplicate this knot, so do not un-tie it. Just slide the neck larger when you undress and hang it up, but leave it tied like that. Do you understand?"

Your cheek twitches in embarrassment at being treated like an idiot. You nod, with an uncomfortable smile.

Mistress leads you to a full-length mirror on the wall a few feet away. You've never seen a knot like this. It's compact as a Windsor, but somehow tied with several overlapping folds - almost like the petals of a flower.

Behind you, Annika is saying goodnight to Mistress. "I'll send the bill to your people."

They hug, and Mistress says, "As always a pleasure, liebshen. Thank you."

Annika clicks toward the elevator, presses the call button, and whirls around, fixing her gaze on you. "Mademoiselle Olivia has become my favorite client, and a good friend. Be a good boy. Give her your utmost obedience and worship, or I'll be back to kick your ass myself!"

You feel your face redden. Mistress laughs.

The elevator doors open, and Annika disappears inside.

You turn and take a few steps toward Mistress. She has a light smile on her lips and turns to meet you.

Smiling, you say, "It's a gorgeous suit, Mistress! I haven't worn anything like..."

Her left hands shoots out and slaps you hard across the cheek with a loud crack, so quickly that it's just a blur. Your face and torso are spun away from the blow, and you lurch, going down on your right knee, now facing sideways. You gasp, and for a moment your vision and awareness dims, but you don't pass out. You put your hand to your face, as you're now feeling the pain. You taste blood in your mouth and feel rage rising.

You slowly shake your head and try to stand up. Your legs aren't responding very well.

Mistress steps forward and pulls you to your feet with hands slid inside your jacket, lifting under your armpits. You turn toward her, your head lolling on your neck, eyes watering. Her face is stern, but not terribly angry.

She speaks with exaggerated diction, speaking every word slowly and clearly. "You need to learn boy, et rapidement... quickly. What did I say? When I ask you to do something, it's not a request. It is a command. Oui, mon petit pétunia? You follow it immediately and precisely, without question or back-talk. You embarrassed Mistress in front of a friend and business associate with your disobedience. Do you remember? How did you fail?"

Your head is still clearing, and your mouth opens, but nothing comes out yet.

She shakes you slightly. "Speak, boy!"

You rally your mind. "I... I didn't take... my closoff? Ride away, Mistress?"

She smiles. "That's right, boy. That made me appear weak and ineffective to Ms. Annika... and I will not have that."

Her face became stern again, her brows lowering severely, her lips tightening. "Do you think I deserve that, boy?"

Your head has fully cleared now. You shake your head emphatically. "No, Mistress! I..."

"Good. This is not a game, little boy. I mean what I say. I don't care, in the least, how uncomfortable or embarrassed a command makes you. If I issue a command, you are to purge all other concerns from your mind and comply! You will now apologize to me for your failure and convince me that you won't disobey in the future."

Your heart is beating rapidly, and as angry and frightened as you are, you worry you could lose this one opportunity for safety and meaning in this new, confusing world. You beseech her. "Mistress, I am terribly sorry for my failure. It is inexcusable and unfair to you. You deserve the best I can give you..."

She arches her brows and lifts up slightly on your armpits, some of your weight coming off your feet. "The best... you... can give me, mon petit pétunia? Or le meilleur du meilleur... the very best?"

Your eyes widen. "No Mistress, please forgive me, I mis-spoke. Of course you deserve the very best! I would never want to make you look bad, and I'm ashamed that I did. I promise to never question your commands again."

Mistress seems to consider this, and finally nods, saying, "Très bien, I accept your apology and pledge."

She lowers you and removes her hands, stepping back. She extends her left hand out to you at waist level, back of the hand facing up.

You sink to your knees and lightly grasp her hand, kissing the back of it softly. "Thank you for your forgiveness, Mistress."

She pulls her hand away and briefly strokes your hair, then looks quizzically at you. "Generous of me, n'est-ce pas?"

You nod and stand, gritting your teeth to control your anger. "Yes, Mistress, very!"

"I called and ordered the suit while you were asleep in the car, because you'll need something to wear to work tomorrow, when you turn in your letter of resignation. If you need a cover story, tell them you've been hired at Goldman-Sachs. Don't worry about other clothes. I'll be furnishing your wardrobe myself. It won't be your permanent transportation, but I'll provide a car for you tomorrow morning as well."

She begins walking rapidly to the bedroom while removing her clothes. After a couple steps, she turns to look you straight in the eye, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow.

You're confused for a moment, but then figure out her expectation. "Thank you, Mistress! Very kind."

She turns back and continues. "Follow me, boy. Oh yes, your temporary bedroom is there." She waves her finger toward a closed door to the right.

As you try to keep up with her quick pace, you glance at your face in the mirror. Very dark red. Still stings. You follow her through the bedroom door, and she tosses her blouse onto the bed, heading into the dressing area. She flips on the lights and opens some drawers, apparently to select a workout outfit. Her big, firm breasts are just standing out exposed, and your eyes follow them and the dance of rippling muscles on her back and waist.

"I've changed my mind; I'm going to work out alone tonight. You order some first aid things for your wrists and room service for us... tell them I want the seafood platter. It's not on the menu but they'll know what you mean as long as they know it's for me. And a bottle of Caymus Cabernet. They'll know what that is.

You are mesmerized by her movements as she pulls on a light green and black sports bra with a plunging neckline, and sits to remove her boots and pants. Since she's not making eye contact with you as she changes, you feel like a voyeur peering into the boudoir of a playboy playmate. Your cock has been swelling and rises to half-mast as she slides her pink panties down her muscular legs.

"You are getting all this, right boy? Tu te souviendras?" She asks, conscious of the effect her body is having on you. You're curious about her lapsing into French as she speaks to you. At first you thought she was absent-mindedly reverting to her mother tongue, but now you're thinking she might be trying to teach you French.

"Yes Mistress. Seafood platter, I'll remember."

"Good. And the wine?"

"Yes Mistress. kay-ness cabernet."

She shakes her head, clucking her tongue. "Tsk tsk tsk, Cay-mus! Sa - aa - eegrec - em - eu - ess!"

You're confused by her letter pronunciation, but you think you've got it. You nod as if you fully understand.

She continues. "And of course whatever you want too, but remember you have to lose a lot of fat. Stay away from carbs. We'll start your exercise program tomorrow night. Je ne baise pas les gros garçons!"

No idea what that phrase meant. "Yes Mistress."

"Follow my lead boy! Say 'Oui, Maîtresse.' Do try to impress me with your intelligence!"

"Oh... um, oui, mattress!"

She glares. "Maîtresse boy! Maî-tresse. Roll the ehr!"

You nod. "Maî-tresse?"

"Bien, c'est acceptable pour l'instant."

You're pretty sure you know what that means. She drops her panties and tan pants onto the floor.

She speaks rapidly in an exasperated tone, as if wearied by having to dumb down and slow down her speech and delivery for an idiot child. "Pick all this up when I leave. The rooms must be tidy when I return. Spotless! I'll have my assistant Chloe email you the full list of everything I expect regarding the cleanliness of the rooms and preparing them for me, and the proper temperature of the suite at different times of the day. It's almost seven now. Have them bring the food at nine fifteen. I'll be walking in the door at eight thirty, and you need to be stripped, shaved and ready, waiting by the bed, holding a very dry gin martini with an olive for me. There are some oils and several white towels in the bedroom armoire. Set the bottles in a row on the far nightstand on a small hand towel and spread the large bath towel length-wise in the center of my bed, neatly without folds or wrinkles."

Her rapid-fire details are difficult to follow. It's a bit overwhelming. She stands and pulls on some black yoga pants. They fit her powerful legs snugly, and with the bright recessed ceiling lights her camel-toe is very noticeable. Your eyes flick down to her crotch, your cock hardening.

"You'd better remember and execute all this to the letter boy, or you're not going to be happy with my reaction! I'm not in a forgiving mood when I finish a workout." She says, as she laces on a pair of gold and white athletic shoes.