To My Mistress Pt. 02

To My Mistress: A Tale of Lesbian Seduction Part Two

A Little Shopping On The Way To A Punishment

Or

Enter The Proprietress

In Part One, our young female narrator was working the front desk of a posh hotel in London. She had no experience with lesbian or BDSM sex, and seemed to have no inkling that she might be interested in them. Her sex life with her live-in boyfriend had turned rather dull. But the older woman Camille checked in that day, and made an impression. When Camille basically commanded our narrator to meet her for drinks afterwards, our narrator complied. It turned out that Monte, our narrator's manager, had singled her out as Camille's type, and alerted Camille, who flew to London from the states for a vacation.

Camille turned on her domme charm over drinks, and our narrator found herself being seduced. She eagerly accompanied Camille up to her room. Apparently she was attracted, and was going to try a lesbian fling. But things turned when Camille compelled our narrator to go down on her hands and knees. She was collared, led in to Camille's room by leash, and told of her new circumstances. She was now Camille's slave. Camille was her mistress. Our narrator was free to leave anytime, but she felt compelled to see this strange new experience through.

Camille took ownership after her new slave passed Her Mistress' five stages of submission. She consented to address Camille as Her Mistress, was collared and leashed on her hands and knees, and butt-fucked. She cleaned the strap-on from her ass with her mouth, and was marked by Her Mistress in a golden shower.

Our new slave knows she should be disgusted by some of Her Mistress' depraved requirements, but is strangely turned on by them instead. She desperately wanted to cum last night, but that was not allowed.

Chapter Seven

I hesitated, out in the corridor that first night. That was a mistake. Big mistake. When I was told "it would really be best for you to get on your hands and knees" outside the door to her room, I should have dropped instantly. I didn't really know what was going on, even though I knew something was going on. Camille had clearly been seducing me earlier in the bar, after my shift at the hotel was over. Her seduction had actually started before she'd even met me. Her longtime friend Monte the hotel manager had alerted her that a likely candidate for her needs might be manning the front desk. She then sowed the seeds of her dominance over that drink. I still hadn't figured out how bent this thing was going as she led me up to her room. Oh, I knew I wasn't going up to that room to catch up on The Crown, but I had yet to grasp what our relationship really was. At the time, I just thought this was going to be the material for my one lesbian experience anecdote. All we girls have them, right? Still, I didn't go down on my hands and knees instantly. I hesitated. Ignorance of the rules is a plausible excuse, right?

Wrong!

I wanted to cum so bad that night. I'd done everything she'd asked...excuse me, commanded. My Mistress never asks. But she had her rules. Slaves are not allowed to cum on their first night of servitude. No problem then, right? I'd been a good slave that first night. Surely I'd be able to cum the next night. Well, maybe I would have, if I hadn't hesitated out in that corridor.

Let this be a lesson to you: if you're going to jump into something dark and perverted, jump in fast and deep. That oh-so-slight hesitation might have just seemed like a sensible case of the nerves to me, but it was flagrant disregard of the rules to My Mistress. I had to be punished before I would be allowed an orgasm. It was to set an example for my future behavior, according to her. In reality, it was to satisfy her deep need for sadism. She needed to inflict some pain and humiliation on me, and it needed to be wrapped up in ritual.

Chapter Eight

The Day After That Night: I could not believe how badly I wanted to cum all day. It was almost impossible to concentrate on the front desk. I'm sure the guests thought I was cuckoo. I was just lucky that my manager was responsible for putting me on My Mistress' radar in the first place. He basically ignored my general uselessness throughout the day. It was obviously not his first rodeo with a brand new slave on the desk. My mind kept drifting back to all those perverted things we got up to last night. The collar, the crawling, the feet-licking, the anal fucking, and all those commands she gave me. The way she laid out the terms of my servitude while I stared at her toes down on the floor. Even thinking about the downright disgusting parts, like the pissing and the ass-to-mouth made me wet. I swear I could still taste her piss and the dirty strap-on in my mouth, even though I'd brushed and mouth-washed like nobody's business since then. I just wanted to lock myself in a closet and rub an epic one out. My mind drifted back to...

"I need to cum so badly. Will I be allowed to cum tonight, my Mistress?"

"No. I do not allow slaves to cum on their first night of servitude. They need to know that they serve me. You will be allowed to cum the night after tomorrow."

"Why so long, my Mistress?"

"You need to be punished first. You hesitated out in the corridor tonight."

Those were the words from last night that were haunting me all day. What form would her punishment take? She hadn't given me any hints. Would I be spanked over her knee like a little girl? Whipped with a bull-whip like an animal? Something more cruel and psychological? I sure hoped it wouldn't involve clamps or needles or tens units or anything like that. I was pretty sure I had limits. Well, maybe not. I had gone from zero kinky experiences to drinking piss in the course of a single evening night. Yeah, limits. Sure.

I woke up naked in My Mistresses bed this morning. She'd had her executive assistant basically rearrange my life while she took me the night before. I was staying with her for the week, while my boyfriend got a series of texts with plausible explanations for my absence. I was allowed to call and talk to him personally once a day, but My Mistress wanted her assistant to handle all other communication. I was hers, and she wanted me to stay focused on my servitude to her. Eh, whatever. I love him (I guess), but I don't mind the break at all.

After taking a golden shower from My Mistress in the morning (my second in less than 24 hours! Soooo disgusting. Why am I still day-dreaming about it?), I was given the room to get myself together and report downstairs for my shift. I had no contact from My Mistress during the entire workday. I should know. I checked my phone obsessively for texts. I practically got whiplash from swinging my head to look every time the lift dinged. I briefly wondered if she'd had second thoughts, and skipped out on me.

Nope. At the exact moment my shift ended, the elevator opened. A smart looking woman in her late thirties stepped out. Skinny, slicked back short brown hair and a dark blue business suit. Looked like the typical corporate management type we get here. She stood in front of me and handed me a card. It read:

This is my Executive Assistant. Ma'am to you. She is tasked with preparing you for the night. Follow her commands as if they were mine, for they are.

Your Mistress.

"You have four-and-a-half minutes to do whatever you need to do in that bathroom" Ma'am said, "Then you'd better be standing out her in front of me before five minutes are up."

"Yes, Ma'am."

I hurried. Wasn't time to do too much besides splash some water on my face and dab my hair. I was back out in four minutes flat.

"How nice. You're eager. Follow me."

The Executive Assistant led me through the lobby and out the entrance. Once on the street she said, "No speaking unless spoken to. You are on duty now. Clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good."

Chapter Nine

Ma'am led me across the street to...oh wow, she led me to that high-end lingerie shop directly across from our hotel. I hoped against hope, but I could just feel the porter's eyes boring holes in the back of my skull. I'm sure they stopped whatever they were doing to watch me go into that shop with another woman.

Ma'am held the door open for me and ushered me in. Then she motioned for me to sit on a bench while she stood. It was so pretty in there, all that pink and white lace. One could get lost in all the frilly knickers.

A woman with a most commanding presence came strolling out. She sort of resembled a kinked out version of Annette Bening, with teased, wavy brown hair and glasses. She looked to be in her 50's, and kind of looked like an old punk who'd never reformed. She wore leather trousers, Doc Martens, and a pink corset that just about covered her breasts. Her shoulders were bare. She was in good shape, and had a figure that could carry her outfit off rather well. She greeted Ma'am with a warm smile and hands on shoulders.

"Beverly, how are you? So good to see you again. I'd heard you graduated from serving your Mistress."

"Yes Proprietress", said Bever...I mean Ma'am. "I'm Camille's executive assistant now. It's quite nice really. Not much time to myself, but lots of travel, and she's mentoring me in her ways of..accrual and instruction."

"Wonderful, I'm sure you'll do fine when your time comes to exercise those skills. Now, what have you brought me?"

All eyes went down to me.

"Ah, Camille's latest project" Ma'am said. "Freshly enslaved. Just last night, actually."

"My, Camille always did like to turn them out fast. She loves setting those land-speed records. Fully enslaved, you say?"

Ma'am fixed me with a determined look. "What are you?"

"I am My Mistress' slave." I could scarcely believe what I was saying. It had been scarcely twenty-four hours since I'd even laid eyes on Cam...My Mistress, let alone accepted my place as her slave. And yet, it all seemed so natural. I was her slave. I could still taste strap-on cock that was taken out of my ass and put in my mouth for cleaning. And I liked it. Sure, this could just be an exceptionally wild fling, but I was coming to believe that I was born to this. I am My Mistress' slave. Yes, I am.

"So definite", the Proprietress squealed with delight. "Not a hint of indecision. I love it. Camille sure can pick'em. One night under her leash, and this slut knows exactly what she is."

I blushed a little at that. Had that woman really called me a slut?

"So", the odd woman asked Ma'am, "what exactly are we outfitting her for? All the usual stuff?"

"That'll come in time", Ma'am answered, "Her Mistress may want to be here to pick some items out personally. Right now we just need to groom her for a punishment. Public, I believe."

"Ooooohhh, naughty already, are we? Let me guess, she hesitated going down on hand and knee in the corridor."

"They always do."

The Proprietress gave Ma'am a cold, knowing look. "Yes, they do, don't they."

Ma'am looked momentarily uncomfortable at this. The Proprietress maintained eye contact with Ma'am and said, "We need to establish the ground rules of the shop, of course. Have her assume the position, please."

Ma'am barked her commands. "Stand! Two feet out from the bench! Nice and straight! Hands behind your head!"

I scrambled to take my position as commanded.

"Excellent", said the Proprietress. She eyed me up and down as she walked around me.

"I'll need her stripped while I have the guest collar and heels fetched."

"Shall I strip her, or would you prefer to have her take her own clothes off?" asked Ma'am.

"Makes no difference to me. Just have it done quickly" said the Proprietress.

"Strip", Ma'am commanded, "Make it quick. Fold your clothes neatly on that bench and resume your position."

As I quickly stripped, the Proprietress kept her eyes on me as she yelled out, "Jean! Guest collar and heels! Get the size from her dowdy old shoes here! Now!"

I just finished folding my clothes and gotten into position when this Jean came rushing out with the items. Jean was a shorter woman, dressed head-to-toe in black leather with a dyed yellow crew-cut and her fair share of piercings. A bit stocky, but it appeared to be more muscle than flab. I wondered if she was what was considered a butch.

The Proprietress did not break eye contact as she held out her hand. Jean the possible butch put a collar in her hand.

"Heel her, Jean."

Jean scurried around in back of me. The Proprietress attached a plain black vinyl collar around my neck. I struggled to stay balanced as Jean did her thing behind me. One foot was pulled. A shoe was fitted over it, and then the foot was put back down, but this time it was much higher. I was wearing a higher heel than I was used to. It was really hard to keep balanced on that one heel when my other foot was pulled to be fitted. I couldn't look down, so I had no idea what these heels looked like at the time.

"Now, cuff her while I give her the lay of the land, Jean. This is her first visit, so she needs to know her place. And no ass-play behind my back."

The Proprietress hooked a finger through the ring in the collar, and pulled my face close to hers while Jean the possible butch cuffed my hands behind my back. I teetered slightly on the heels.

"You are a slave, correct?"

"Correct."

"I am The Proprietress . Always address me as such"

"Yes, Proprietress."

"And Camille, your Mistress, has graciously taken you as her personal slave. Correct?"

"Correct, Proprietress."

"Excellent. Your Mistress and your Ma'am both know how things work in my shop. Slaves are treated as slaves in here. You have no rights. You follow my rules. I do not take advantage of you sexually, or impinge on your Mistress' territory. But I am free to discipline you for even the slightest transgression within these walls. You behave, follow my commands, and remain quiet unless asked, or provoked in the right way, or you cheek gets the palm of my hand. Do you have that?"

"Yes, Proprietress."

"I only access your ass, mouth, or cunt for fitting purposes. You are not my property to use otherwise. Do you understand all this?"

"Yes, Proprietress."

"Excellent. Would you like your ass, mouth, or cunt accessed for fitting purposes?"

"Yes, Proprietress."

"Marvelous! Jean, see to her Ma'am's comfort. Fetch her some tea. This way, slave."

The Proprietress turned and walked with her finger still in the ring of my collar, pulling me with her. I scrambled to keep up with her in my heels with my hands cuffed behind me. I was lucky I didn't fall.

Chapter Ten

The world changed dramatically as I was led into the back. The frilly pink and whites were strictly a façade for the front. The back area was much larger, and clearly where the real action was. There were all sorts of things on display in black leather, vinyl, latex, metal, what have you. Whips, chains, collars, leashes, gags, rope, cuffs, plugs, bustiers, corsets, boots, heels, hoods, vibrating doodads...the list was endless. I didn't know what half these things were about at the time. I would learn later that The Proprietress' shop was the preferred fetish supplier for those in the know in London.

The Proprietress pulled me to the center of the room and stopped. While looking me in the eye she asked, "How am I doing, Jean?"

"Almost dead center, My Proprietress. Another two inches forward, and you've got it." Interesting. Jean the possible butch was German. I don't know that this had any significance, but hearing her kowtow to the Proprietress in that accent added a certain level of kink somehow.

The Proprietress pulled me two inches forward.

"Excellent. Let's take care of the foot wear so that we can lock her in place."

The Proprietress let go of my ring and stepped back. She took a moment to look me up and down.

"Would you say her Mistress trusts my judgment, Jean?"

"Oh yes, Mein Proprietress. How could she not? Someone of her refined taste recognizes the work of a true artist. And you've never once erred as far as I've known."

Wow. Jean the possible butch might have looked a little tough at first, but her simpering was something that had to be heard to be believed. The Proprietress took a moment to let Jean dangle in the wind before getting on with it.

"The Tielands by Weitzman, Jean. I suspect we have them in stock in her size. I assume she doesn't have much experience with serious stilettos, so the modest size of the Tieland should be just right for her tonight."

Jean the possible butch scampered off and came back a minute later with a long narrow box. This was a shoebox? It looked more like something for storing rifles in.

"Fit them, Jean. And make it quick. No lingering over the merchandise."

As The Proprietress stared impassively, Jean got to work. I kept my eyes set straight ahead on The Proprietress, and couldn't see what Jean was doing, but I could sure feel it. Jean seemed to twist and turn my legs in all sorts of ways. I felt boots of a really soft material being pushed up, past my ankles, past my knees, all the way up to my thighs. Then Jean tied them off at the top. Once she was done, she stayed on her knees behind me as The Proprietress motioned for me to look down. I now sported a stunning pair of thigh-high boots in the softest black suede. They made my legs look dead sexy.

The Proprietress then motioned for me to put my head back up. I felt something wooden lock around my ankles. I later saw they were polished wooden ankle stocks that Jean had used to secure me. I felt Jean behind me now. I couldn't swear to it, but I had the odd feeling of having my butt sniffed.

"Jean!"

"Sorry, Meine Proprietress."

Jean the possible butch quickly stood up behind me.

"I couldn't resist. Her butt just smells so nice. When I thought about what would be done to it later, I just had to..."

"Control yourself, you little troll, or I'll give you something to smell! Is that clear?"

"Yes, Meine Proprietress."

"Then finish securing her wrists, so we can get on with this."

"Yes, Meine Proprietress."

Then I felt my wrists being raised as something was clamped to them. Jean the possible butch had attached my wrist cuffs to a chain hanging from the ceiling and cinched them up. My wrists and ankles were completely immobilized.

"Very good, Jean. Consult her Mistresses' standing order for first punishments, and bring me the first item, please."

"Yes, Meine Proprietress."

The Proprietress stood there, looking me in the eye with her finger still in the hook of my collar. Was it unnerving? Well, for some reason I tried really hard not to blink. Jean came back a minute later and presented the Proprietress with a selection of collars arranged in a black velvet display tray.

"The punishment collars, Meine Proprietress."

"Hmmm....", the Proprietress mused as she looked over the collars, looked at me, looked at the collars, and looked at me some more.

"What do you think, Jean?"

"Well, I think..."

"Ah, here we are."

The Proprietress pulled out the scariest looking one of the lot, a steel collar with rounded spikes not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. Instead of the silvery stainless steel look, it had a faded bronze cast to it. It looked positively medieval. There were three sizes, and she picked what looked like the medium-sized one. She held it up so I could see what was engraved on the front: One Naughty Bitch.

"Jean..."

Jean walked in back of me, and then I felt her remove my guest collar. The Proprietress clamped this new collar around my neck. The fit was a bit snug, with the spikes.

"Is that a little tight?"

"Yes, Proprietress."

"Good. That will enhance the experience. Hmm...I'll bet she's a bit of a screamer. Let's do the gags next."