The Treaty Ch. 03

'Undress, pour me a glass of wine and wait on your knees,' I ordered him when we entered his apartment.

I had spent half of last month's pay check to get my domme persona properly equipped. I had bought myself patent leather heels, a bustier that made my ample breasts look puffier than usual, dark shades of makeup, fishnets, a crop, a strap-on, a ball gag, and a pair of expensive police-like handcuffs. All these were secured in a duffel bag with a padlock and buried deep under my bed so my mother wouldn't snoop around when I was at work. Somehow, I managed to squeeze all of the above in my handbag - quite an accomplishment if I'm honest.

I never quite grasped how men could live in a bedroom with no mirrors, I mean, even they take care of themselves sometimes, right? Going to the bathroom would take me right through the living room, so I used the front camera of my cell phone instead; a girl has to improvise from time to time.

I was content with how I looked -the bustier could have been slightly more comfortable though. Typically, I dress conservatively: jeans, cotton blouses, a skirt with opaque tights from time to time. This was a rather drastic change for me but I wanted to please him and I figured it would help me get under the skin of my role better if I dressed the part. He seemed genuinely excited when he saw me, almost drooling like a dog. 'Your tongue, down there', I said strictly and pointed to the top of my feet with the crop. He mumbled in agreement and kissed the top of my fishnet-clad feet.

'Go to your bedroom and get me my handbag without looking inside.'

'Yes, Mistress', he replied with his head down and put his hand on the floor to stand up. My crop landed fiercely on his naked ass.

'What do you think you're doing? On fours, use your lips and you better don't ruin the leather with your teeth.'

I couldn't believe that I had spoken those words in such a tone - it was completely out of character for me. I took a seat on his leather couch and took a sip of my wine and left a mark of my lipstick on the glass. He came back with my handbag between his lips and left it in front of my feet. I took out the collar I had bought him before our first date and held it in the air.

'One week later, I think you deserve it', I said and snapped it tightly around this throat.

'Thank you, Mistress.'

'I don't want verbal appreciation, I demand actions. Make my shoes shine.'

He complied with my orders, licking my shoes and then my feet over my fishnets. I was enjoying my wine in the meantime, watching a travel documentary on his cable tv. This night, unlike the previous time, I wasn't that aroused; I had calmed the beast inside my body with two orgasms earlier that day so I would spend more time on foreplay.

His punishment was next on the menu. Ideally, I would spank him but I wasn't that strong and he was a sturdy man so my hands on his ass wouldn't be anything more than a caress. I used my crop instead, careful not to hit him very hard. He took his punishment stoically but after the fifteenth strike, he begged me to hit him harder.

Marcus was in fact quite a masochist and he admittedly enjoyed his punishment. In my mind, the punishment shouldn't have been enjoyable for the submissive so I had to think of alternatives. After I finished with the twenty strikes of his white ass, he begged me again to continue. I did, giving his skin a dark red tone; he almost came but I had lost any arousal I had gathered when he worshipped my feet.

'I want you to eat my pussy, and you won't stop unless I explicitly say so.'

The cuffs were utilised so his hands would remain behind his back. I used my hands to keep his head glued to my body as he licked me hungrily. During our mid-week conversations, he had revealed that he didn't enjoy penetrative sex but he would obey my wishes if I asked him to. Afraid that such an effort would have probably been disappointing and frustrating for me, I focused on cunnilingus and the principal way I would climax - I wondered whether my desire to get fucked by my partner was un-Mistress-y.

He ate me out wonderfully, just like during our previous encounter; his previous Mistress had caused him a ton of issues, but at least she had taught him to eat pussy well. As I was satisfied with his efforts, I wanted to tie him down on the bed and take him in my mouth but he had an issue with that as well - what kind of bondage white bible said that Mistresses cannot enjoy sucking cock. To prevent another uncomfortable moment, I switched to anal play which he argued that he enjoyed a lot.

He had done a meticulous job at cleaning his back door and he had two bottles of lubricant available - I had done the rookie mistake of taking a strap-on without the lubricant. Eventually my fingers found their way into his lubed butt and despite the initial resistance, they slid in and out with ease. He started talking, thanking me for using him as my whore who had opened his ass like a little girl. I considered his words confusing and derogatory, but I didn't comment on them. Instead, I fastened the straps on my body and made him suck my four-inch dildo. Although I received nothing in terms of pleasure when he performed that, the spectacle was extremely arousing. When he was done, I used the ball gag in his mouth, so he would stop talking rubbish, and made him sit on fours. I put a condom on the dildo, then lubed it well and pushed inside.

I fucked him for about ten minutes in total silence. His words earlier kept spinning in my head and any excitement I had was thrown out of the window. I could see myself enjoying making love to a man this way but it wasn't the case with Marcus; I just carried on until he came, a task in which he helped as he kept jerking off while I was hammering him.

When we were done, he offered to lick my bare feet as a thank you gesture to which I agreed - rightly so because it felt magnificent. Subsequently I sent him to rinse the toys clean, especially the ball gag which had been in his mouth and I changed clothes. The red flags I had noticed earlier were becoming redder and redder, but I nevertheless wanted to give him a chance to discuss.

After a mostly dissatisfying night, I wanted to cuddle and perhaps do some making-out on the couch but he instead returned to his knees on the floor. He thanked me for the delightful night I gave him, offered me his bed - he would allegedly sleep on the floor next to me, and spat out other fetishes he wanted to try with me such as cross-dressing. He also discovered the 'magical' solution to my desire for penetrative sex: I could find another boyfriend who would fuck me while Marcus watched us.

I felt terrible, Marcus was treating me as fetish dispenser, or as a pro-domme, with the only difference being that I did it for free. He never asked whether I had a good time, he never asked whether I agreed with the course we were following, he never asked whether I wanted to try something different. All of the above during a night supposedly devoted to my pleasure. When you add his obsession with role-playing and his unwillingness to do anything that even resembled a romantic gesture, the mix was toxic.

I rejected his offer to stay the night, grabbed my toys and my handbag and left with an Uber yet again. I texted a friend of mine who lived alone whether I could crash at her place, order take-out and watch Netflix and she enthusiastically agreed. While I waited for the driver to take me to her apartment, I composed a farewell message to Marcus and saved it for the following morning; I wouldn't break his heart on a night he got so much pleasure after all.

That was a job for the next day.

**