Under his Mistress' Hand Ch. 13

This story is a 40,000 word novella which runs to 16 chapters. It starts as a slow burn but goes on to explore the journey of a novice as he discovers the joys of loving Femdom. I wrote it as a gift for my real life sub, David, and we hope you enjoy it.

If Femdom is not for you, then please do not continue reading. However, if you like the idea of a powerful woman controlling every aspect of a helpless sub's pleasure, then please read on.

The experience brought with it a new level of closeness, and both were strongly affected by the intensity of their feelings. Even for Kate, who had enjoyed thoroughly pegging her subs any number of times in the past, this was something deeper, more meaningful. Those previous times, the act had been exciting, yes, but purely physical. Kate had always got off and at times she had even allowed her sub to join her in release, but never before did it feel like this. Today she had felt something soul-deep, like a missing puzzle piece being clicked into place, and she knew that she was not going to be able to just let David walk away after the few scant days he had left.

For his part, David was still reeling from the freedom he had felt when he finally relinquished that last, wilful thread of control. Honestly, he hadn't realised he had been holding back on any level. He thought he was doing all the right things, being a dutiful sub. But, across the week Kate had released his grip, one white-knuckled finger at a time. She had broken through his resolve, and he had given himself freely, accepting her dominance, her right to everything that was his, knowing that she would treasure his trust as a precious gift and return him unbroken. Better than unbroken; finally whole.

Following the intensity of the morning, the rest of the day was spent at a gentler pace. After David helped her undress, unlacing her severe corset and carefully rolling down her stockings, he gently washed her in the shower, soothing the deep, red marks that the boning had left on her pale skin. While he put on his clothes from yesterday, Kate donned a soft sweater dress and knee length boots and they left the apartment, taking a leisurely stroll along the river.

They were so comfortable in each other's presence that time felt infinite. There was no rush, no agenda, just two people enjoying each other's company. David was still in awe of his Mistress, but now they were out of the apartment, both fully dressed, he felt more protective of her too, and when they encountered a gaggle of Japanese tourists taking photos as they crossed Tower Bridge, he instinctively put his arm around her and tugged her to his side. Once they had passed, he glanced down at her face, trying to gauge if he had overstepped, but she smiled up at him benevolently and did not pull away.

They paused from time to time, exploring the hustle and bustle of Borough Market, eating amazing fresh street food from the multitude of vendors as they browsed. Later, they passed the soaring slash of glass and metal that was the Shard before reaching the Tate Modern. At some point in the journey, her hand had found his, and David fought the urge to grip it tighter, to not let her get away. Instead, he held it gently, as one might a small bird, as something precious but somehow fragile.

Kate had always loved visiting this art gallery and now she wanted to share that love with David. She knew he liked history, and they'd discussed the Imperial War Museum that he'd visited before they'd met, but he had never mentioned art. She was intrigued to see how he reacted to the Georgia O'Keeffe exhibition that was being held there. This artist was best known for her paintings of magnified flowers, whose blossoming petals and fecund buds seemed to embody the eroticism of feminine sensuality. A fact which led this series of paintings to be known the world over as the 'Vagina flowers'.

Leading him by the hand, Kate guided him through the dramatic open space of the Turbine Hall and through the labyrinthine galleries to the temporary exhibition, bypassing the line by flashing her membership card. Once inside she watched David's face, smiling the moment she saw the look of shocked interest as he took in the collection. Pressing herself against his side, she smirked and whispered in his ear, 'Look familiar?'

David was taken aback. He didn't consider himself much of an art aficionado, preferring to focus more on science and history. He appreciated art as a detached spectator, happy to look but nothing really making much of an impact on his psyche, however, if Kate wanted to come here he wasn't about to argue. He'd walk through a minefield for her, so spending an hour or so looking at a bit of wall decoration was no hardship.

He'd heard of Georgia O'Keeffe and had a vague recollection she painted flowers and on first look, it seemed that his observation was correct. However, on closer inspection, he realised this was no decorative floral display; this was botanical porn! He could almost taste the spicy essence on his tongue and breathe in the humid scent of feminine arousal. Laid out before him, viewed by schoolchildren and little old ladies, was an up close and personal parade of pussies!

Breathing in his ear once again, Kate allowed him to feel the tight buds of her nipples brush his chest as her hand casually stroked his rapidly-hardening length, 'Well, pet, I see that you are a lover of the arts after all. How very gratifying. There is something incredibly sexy about an enquiring mind, isn't there? Now this is a view that you have become rather intimately acquainted with in the last few days, and I have a task for you.'

Kate angled her body in such a way as to hide the tenting in his jeans as she discreetly continued to stroke his straining shaft. 'I would like to buy a print for my bedroom, and I want you to choose it for me. Which one,' she gestured to the room of flagrant flora, 'do you think is the closest match?'

David felt honoured to be given this task, but at the same time, he didn't underestimate what a minefield it was. So much potential for unintended offense. Maybe she had already picked one and was testing him to see if he would choose correctly. Did he go for one of the more obvious representations or something less literal? He decided to study each one and see what feeling it evoked.

Slowly walking the length of the gallery from painting to painting, David was beginning to give up hope. They all had qualities that he could attribute to his beautiful Mistress, but none stood out above the others. Until, that is, he came across the vibrant red, orange, and yellow ofRed Canna, 1924. A little plaque beside it held a quote from an American journalist stating,'...there is no stroke of her brush...that is not curiously, arrestingly female in quality. The essence of very womanhood permeates her pictures.'

Yes, he thought. It was as though Kate was the artist creating him with her skilful strokes of pain and pleasure. She was the very essence of womanhood. When he was worshipping on bended knee, he risked being immolated, and yet he willingly faced the fire and paid homage, uncaring whether he would burn, for what a way it would be to go!

Turning to her, he spoke with quiet confidence. 'This one. This flaming inferno of power and sensuality is how I see you, my Enchantress, with your flushed petals unfurled in glorious arousal.'

Kate thrilled with pleasure. 'A good choice and a beautiful sentiment. You have done well, pet.' Then, uncaring of art gallery etiquette and the giggling school party nearby, she pulled him in for a deep and sensual kiss, claiming his lips, his soul, as hers.

---

The bulky framed print wrapped in brown paper made hailing a black cab a much better option for their journey home. And now, relaxing in the roomy vehicle, David could once again take in the sights of London. However, he only had eyes for his Mistress sitting demurely opposite him, legs crossed at the ankle, the very image of a self-assured lady of class.

She saw him watching her and smirked wickedly, raising an eyebrow in invitation as she uncrossed her ankles and used the tip of her boot to flip down the rear-facing seat opposite her. Once he was settled, she slowly spread her thighs, inching the hem of her clingy dress up, up until she revealed the white lacy thong that was lovingly cupping her netherlips.

David looked behind him, through the privacy screen to the driver's rear-view mirror. He currently seemed to be watching the busy rush-hour traffic queuing for the raised bridge to slowly close and grant them access across the river, but he only had to glance up to get an eyeful of what David considered his and his alone. He shifted his body to block more of his view.

'Eyes on me, pet,' she admonished, quietly.

With her dress now clinging to her waist, there was nothing to impede his view of her burgundy fingernail tracing the top edge of the lace, dipping below it, and slipping further down, taking two of its neighbours with it. David could see the fingertips pressing pinkly through the thin lace and knew they were now parting her plump petals, allowing the middle digit to caress the delicate inner petals and awakening clit. Flicking his gaze from her fingers to her face, David's pulse sped up as he saw her pupils dilate and her tongue flick out to moisten dry lips as her arousal mounted. Her other hand, which had been tweaking idly at a pebbled nipple, had now made its way down to join the party, hooking the damp gusset and pulling it aside, exposing her juicy folds to his hungry eyes.Red Canna indeed.

The rumble of the traffic punctuated by the odd horn and colourful cursing, the iconic landmarks, all faded into the background until all he could hear and see was the soft slurp as her finger dipped into her needy channel and the flushed sheen of her parted petals. If David could have taken his eyes off her, he might have spared a look at the cabbie, who was at that moment hypnotised by the erotic display in his rear-view mirror. However, a moment later, the blare of a bus's horn was enough to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding on his back seat and once more on the now-open bridge ahead.

Kate rested her head back, eyes closed and lifted one booted foot onto the seat beside her. She now had two fingers of one hand plunging deep into her slippery quim and the middle finger of her other working her swollen button, finally pinching it hard between finger and thumb, sending herself over into a breathless, quivering release. She was not the only one breathless and quivering as David was on the edge of his seat, trying desperately to pinch his crown to hold back his impending ejaculation. One of them was going to have to be in a fit state to pay the driver!

With a quiet snap and a soft sigh, Kate's panties were once more in place, clinging wetly to her pouting lips. As she raised her eyes to meet the gaze of the gawking cabbie she smirked and told David, 'Be a pet and pay the driver. And don't worry about a tip.'

David's cock was trying to punch its way out of his jeans as he touched his card to the meter and exited the cab, which was by now a humid greenhouse perfumed with the exotic fragrance of feminine arousal. He seriously doubted that the little cardboard pine tree hanging from the rear-view mirror was going to have much of an effect, and wondered idly how the next passenger, maybe a harried businessman coming back from a high-powered meeting, was going to react when they took their first lungful.

Once inside, David placed the wrapped print inside her bedroom and relished the thought that he might be the one to hang it for her. He felt happy, content. He'd spent a wonderful, warm day out, seeing the sights with a beautiful woman and now he was doing domestic chores. How... vanilla! Smiling to himself, he turned back to share his observation with Kate, and found that the relaxed woman from the cab had gone. And in her place was an apex predator.

Oh yes, Kate could see how David had settled in and made himself at home, becoming way too comfortable around her. While that was sweet, it really wouldn't do at all! She enjoyed the frisson between them. That slight edge of apprehension that her presence inspired in him. She needed him out of his comfort zone, unsure of exactly where he stood, because, of course, she'd be there to guide him. It was time to reassert her power and remind him of his place. On his knees beneath her feet.

Face impassive, eyes narrowed, she demanded coldly, 'Rule two. Strip.'

David blanched. He clearly wasn't expecting this transformation and he fumbled to fulfil her demand. Once naked, she eyed his semi-hard member, which had undoubtedly suffered from the nerves she had instilled in him, then took hold of it with one cool hand and tugged him into the sitting room, pulling him to his knees with a wince as she seated herself on the low leather sofa.

Kate could see that David was shaken, frantically trying to work out what he had done to upset her, but, she noted, he was very clearly responding to her tone. His semi-flaccid cock had gone to full mast, even though her hands were now no longer touching him and were neatly folded in her lap. Oh yes, he really did love it when she was strict with him. Looking down at him imperiously, Kate stretched out one booted foot and rested it on his chest.

'My feet are weary from our excursion today, boy. Service me.'