What If?

"How does She KNOW all of this? Hell! I didn't even realize until now that I had run that light! And the fact I jumped out of my car at the same time I was throwing it into park? How did She know THAT?!?" The young slave was staring down at the monogram; his confused mind swirling in loops and curlicues as did Her initials that were carved into the rug beneath him.

In light of this revelation, Patrick wasted no time in attempting to apologize for his tardiness, but was instantly reprimanded by Mistress.

"I did not give you permission to speak! you won't utter a sound unless I tell you to do so! Furthermore, you will do everything I command you to do without hesitation or this all stops, do you understand?" He nodded his head in agreement, being careful not to so much as murmur his compliance. "Very good. I see you can be obedient after all. One more thing: I am going to give you a safe word to use as a signal if you wish to stop. Since My new slave student is endowed with red hair, the word will be 'RED'. If you are unable to speak and want to stop, you will snap your fingers. But understand that if you choose to stop using either signal, we will not start again. Not ever again. Now, you may answer Me."

"I understand, Mistress Vixxxen. Thank You, Mistress Vixxxen." he gratefully responded, as he kept his eyes lowered in respectful humbleness.

The smell of leather and Her perfume assailed his nostrils; an intoxicating mix he remembered from the interview; now accompanied not with aromas of flavored coffees and croissants, but that of scented candlewax and what he thought was maybe some type of liquor. Brandy perhaps. The aromatic blend was seductively compelling.

He felt the movement of the carpet again; now a gentle stir as She walked around and behind him. He assumed She was inspecting Her new student and preparing to begin Her first of the lessons when his unasked thoughts were answered. He felt, rather than heard, what Her first lesson was going to be.

The sting of a leather gloved hand crashed over his right ass cheek, and then another of the same force immediately struck his left. He let out a small whimper; not due to the sting, but because he had been caught off guard. Mistress heard the small outcry; more like a "yip!" really, but seized the opportunity to ridicule the hunched over slave with dares and taunts that he could very well be the very first submissive that wouldn't make it through Her very first lesson. Through the barrage of verbal humiliation, Patrick endured the incessant open palmed slaps of Her leather gloved hand, as She knelt down alongside of him and whispered in his ear, "So, My little bitch boy, do you like the feel of My leather on your lily white delicate skin? Although it's now a pretty shade of pink, and getting deeper in color with each bitch slap. Shall I make it a lovely rose color, bitch boy? Or, perhaps a hot shade of flaming red to match your hair?" Patrick just nodded, knowing good and well that if he had broken his silence, She may have considered that a gross breach of Her command and subsequently, Her last command to him may have been the words, "Get out!" No, he was sore, but still more than willing to take Her discipline. He had waited far too long for a chance to scene with a Domme- this Domme- and held back far too many fantasies of satisfying his submissive tendencies by screwing it all up now.

She continued the leathered spanking, and with the other hand, ran it up his spine and across his bared shoulders. She interrupted the gloved flogging briefly; yanking his head back and upward with that hand and ordering him to stay in that position with eyes closed. She resumed the opened hand ass smacks; the electric shock-like strikes beginning to heat; then burn his cheeks as the discipline went on. The other gloved hand continued its journey from his shoulder across to his face; caressing it gently and provocatively; a far cry in feeling from the assault he was experiencing to his ass. With eyes still closed in solemn respect, he inhaled deeply as the scent of the leather nearly made him swoon. Suddenly, She slid Her gloved index finger into his mouth; stroking his tongue with the sensually sleek material as if She was attempting to make his tongue climax. Again, She leaned into his ear and crooned Her next command, "I want to see and feel how well you suck My finger through My glove. I want to see and feel how good you are going to be when you suck My clit, My little bitch boy."

He began to suck Her finger in dutiful response; the sleek patent leather tasting as good as it smelled to the obeying submissive. He sucked and licked; fast; then slow, to show his oral talents and to prove his worth to his Lady. His tongue curled and coiled around Her finger, as the gentle thrusts of Her gloved digit in and out of his mouth enhanced his fantasy that he was fucking Her. But sadly, he knew that would not happen tonight; She would not allow him that particular pleasure at their first scene.

The spanking with the other leathered hand finally ceased. His eyes were still closed enjoying the fantasy as She pulled Her finger from his mouth and traced it across his chest; the wet patent leather titillating his nipples and causing his cock even in its soft state to incessantly throb. Although he wasn't hard and his balls ached, the aroused submissive felt the odd, but urgent sense to cum. It was totally foreign to him; these erotic, but strangely contradictive sensations. He had never experienced such feelings before; ever. He was worried. Very worried.

As if She had read his mind, Mistress answered his questioning inner concern. "Don't worry, you will be hard in good time, but you need to relax and trust Me"

Keeping his eyes shut, Patrick nodded in affirming and silent agreement, as the sounds of his Domme encircling him and walking to another area of the chambers now reached his ears. He heard the sound of something metal clanging together somewhere behind him, as he felt his cock bounce and his balls tighten in involuntary reaction; all at the mere thoughts of what the possible type of equipment it was that the metal was attached to – and Her planned use for it.

The humbled submissive would not have to guess for more than thirty seconds. The metal sounds he heard were all from Mistress Vixxxen's bag of naughty learning toys.

She was ready to teach - and play.

**********************

"Sit up and put your hands behind your head, bitch boy," She commanded, as Patrick immediately obeyed; sitting up on his haunches and stretching his semi numb arms gratefully above and behind his head. The cold metal of the handcuffs grasped either wrist as She commenced to secure them in place. The curious and rather excited submissive dared not ask what was going to happen next, but now eagerly awaited it. A leather hood was next pulled over the sub's head and zipped up the back securely in place. The tight fit of the hood made the slave that much more aware of the distinctly pungent aroma of rich leather. He heard now another sound; the sound of his Mistress' booted footsteps walk to the front of him. He felt Her presence; perhaps not even a foot in front of him now, as he remained in his knelt position motionless.

"you are given permission to open your eyes and gaze upon the only Person that should mean anything and everything to you, bitch boy. you must not speak a word however, unless I tell you that you may."

He opened his eyes, first casting them down as a sign of deep respect for his Mistress. Then, with caution and dutiful reverence, the obedient slave opened his eyes wide to a fantasy now fulfilled. Patrick looked up appreciatively at his Domme, for Her image brought back the delicious memories of their first meeting - the interview.

His eyes came to rest first upon Her boots again; the decadent, bad ass look of the patent leather rising to Her thighs from six inch stiletto silver heels. Above the top of the boots were black fishnet stockings and a black leather corset; its bodice cut to enhance Her full breasts. Her jet black hair cascaded over Her shoulders and framed the black leather and silver collar that embraced Her neck. Mystery and power surrounded Mistress like an aura of pain and pleasure as Patrick gazed upon his dark clad Dominatrix. With mouth agape, he felt his cock instinctively swell and rise from between his legs; all due to his fetish of leather standing before him.

But the moment of decadent visual feasting was fleeting. He had slowly raised his blue eyes to meet Her swamp green ones, and when he did, he found Her's were like tumultuous whirlpools; dark, angry and threatening.

"Did I give you permission to have an erection?" She demanded; pointing with one gloved hand to his stiff member.

Patrick was taken aback and grew suddenly frightened, but still remembered to remain silent, at least until his Domme granted him the privilege to speak.

"Well did I? Answer Me, bitch boy!"

"No, Mistress Vixxxen," he replied meekly from beneath the hood. "But...but I couldn't help it. I was turned on by... by You and all the leather." He felt if he didn't answer truthfully, She may see through the flimsy excuses and become distrustful at the very least, or enraged at the very worst. In either case, it would have meant the immediate termination of the lesson – and forever of him as a submissive student for the Mistress. "I'll take my chances with being honest and dealing with Her punishment. Damn! All this leather smells so good! And She looks so good in it!" he thought, as his nostrils were treated to the sensuality of his fetish.

His erotic penchant for leather and the vision of his Domme adorned by it had indeed turned him on, and had brought his cock now to its fullest engorgement. The single thought of all that leather surrounding him made his cock bounce with glee.

"So, you couldn't help yourself, could you? Forgot your lowly, pathetic station as nothing slave all because of a little bit of leather, hmmm? " She mocked, "Well, we'll see about that! Stand up, bitch boy!"

He carefully rose to obey Her command, as the feeling in his legs began to slowly return. Again, the seductive combination of leather and Mistress' perfume wafted to his nostrils through the hood as he heard Her walk back to Her bag and retrieve yet another form of leathered lesson. When She returned and he saw what was in Her grasp, his knees nearly buckled, but not from the prolonged time he had been kneeling on them. This time the Domme's plebe took in a deep, but held breath, as the stark realization of what was in immediate store for him took him totally off guard. And this time he wasn't savoring the aroma of the newest form of leather held within Her hands. He was too nervous for that.

This time the worried submissive was not looking forward to the feel of leather, either. Not this time at all.

This time the new leather was a cock and ball harness and a ball gag to muffle the moans.

His uncontrolled, inescapable moans.

**********************

Patrick's wide eyes were welded on the new leather torture his Domme swung in Her hands all from their metal and leather straps. He felt that same chilled trickle run down his neck and spine same as before, as She first fastened the ball gag into place to obviously eliminate any outright verbal protests the all the more restrained sub might have. But then he recalled Her instructions before they had begun. He remembered that it was all up to him. Whether it was the word "RED" spoken or a snap of his fingers made, he could bring it all to an end. He deliberated as to what he should do as the straps of the ball gag were tightened around his hooded head, and as the cock and ball harness lay at his knees awaiting Her imprisonment. He flipped a mental coin; heads, he snapped his fingers like castanets and brought the lesson to its only and once and for all conclusion, or tails; he went the distance and discovered how much disciplined devotion he could offer and yes; suffer for his Domme. A few moments later, as the leather of Her gloved hand cradled his tight balls to adjust the straps around them, his decision was made.

It was tails.

His rock hard cock confined in the leather and buckles had won the toss.

**********************

"Now you will only cum when and if I allow it" Mistress informed him, as She mummified the base of his shaft and tightened the straps on the ball restraint even more. Patrick felt as if his cock was a cum filled, stopped up hose ready to burst. But in its bound and buckled confinement, he was simply in a tortured state of mind over cock. He soon realized it would be next to impossible to climax in Her latest applied toy.

Mistress kept the erotic agony at a high threshold, as She stood before Her toy imprisoned slave, looking directly eye to eye with him. And all the while Her leather gloved hand; the gloved hand that made him go crazy at its mere sight, was stroking his shaft slowly; deliberately, as if to either make or break him. Tauntingly, She continued testing his will to not crumble, as the feel of the kidskin upon his own throbbing skin was almost too much to bear. His knees shook violently now, as he neared the brink of plummeting over the edge as the muffled, but distinguishable moans began beneath the leather ball gag.

"Ahhhhh...uhhhhhmmm...ughhh...uhhh..." The sounds emitting from his stifled mouth synchronized with that of Her long, leather covered strokes of his shaft and caresses of his bulging cockhead. The corners of Her mouth turned up ever so slightly as Her imminent Domme victory became apparent. As the groaning became more pronounced with each caress and stroke, She knew he was going to lose if She didn't cease the eternal teasing of his cock. It was time to move on with the next part of the lesson.

The wild thoughts of what the outcome was to be of this excruciating pleasure/pain session were rollerblading across his mind when suddenly...She stopped.

She hadn't turned Her eyes away from his the entire time; still keeping them locked onto Her quivering, agonized sub. She took one step back; releasing Her gloved embrace from his leather clad and now equally agonized member.

"Do you like brandy, bitch boy?" His confused response was a cautious nod of affirmation. She continued the out- of- the -blue chat. "I abhor beer, and will not have it in My house. My preference in wine is a smooth white or a silky Chablis. But this evening I am in the mood for blackberry brandy. And I always have My nightcap served to Me in My jacuzzi. And tonight, bitch boy, you will join Me there for your nightcap. And I, your Mistress, will personally serve it to you."

Mistress Vixxxen's nightcap would indeed be served to Her in the usual manner. But the slave boy's nightcap would be served up to him quite differently.

It would be a toy that was used to serve his drink. One of Mistress' favorite toys.

**********************

He noticed his Mistress glance away; looking over his left shoulder at something beyond it. With a slight nod of Her raven haired head, he felt it; someone brushing passed him from behind. He tried to steal a look to see who the silent shadow had been, but Mistress was already commanding his full attention again.

"Since you have met with My approval on the first part of the lesson for this evening, I am going to reward you by removing the hood, ball gag and cuffs. But the cock and ball restraints will remain, as will your collar. You simply will be put onto a leash like any as yet untrained pet should be. And you will remain on the leash while we are in the jacuzzi, especially." Mistress then removed the ball gag and hood first; taking care in leaving the cuffs on the slave student while retrieving the leash from Her toy bag.

The emphasis on the last word She just spoke hinted of something much more than the next experience he imagined he was to participate in. He heard water running from somewhere nearby, and knew it to be the shadowy figure preparing the jacuzzi for Mistress – and him. His breathing came short and quick as the thought of the already strangulating straps of the cock and balls device might be tightened even further by Mistress; all at Her whim. He felt beads of perspiration forming on his forehead and dripping into his eyes; the salt of his sweat burning the soft blues of his irises. But he knew the sweat was not the result of the heavy leather hood finally being removed. His nerves were once again building to panic levels.

Mistress returned with the leash, and proceeded to hook it onto his collar. It was a regular dog leash; its bright red nylon cord thick and obviously made to withstand the strength of a large dog yanking from it. "Or, a bitch boy pet" he thought. At 5'11" tall and 192 pounds, Patrick knew he could easily wrench his way out of Her grasp and simply run; cock and ball restraints; leash and all, but then remembered, with a touch of guilt, that he didn't have to think along such desperate lines. His Domme had told him all it took was one word or one gesture and all his stress and distress would dissolve instantly. It was still that simple; no addendums to the agreement; no hidden clauses; no fine print at the bottom of the page. This was what She talked about earlier in the evening. He suddenly became aware that he still had to learn the most important thing of all: to trust Her.

"Shall we?" She asked; not really asking, but commanding as a true Domme does, as She led him, leash in gloved hand, through the massive chambers to a doorway near the far corner. It was now or never; bolt or beg. Again, he chose to stay and followed his Mistress like a well trained bitch boy pet should. With his leash wrapped around and held tightly in Her hand, She led him into Her bathroom.

The bathroom, as he found, was nearly as large as Her chambers. As in Her bedroom, candlelight rather than incandescent lighting was opted as the source of illumination. To the right, his eyes fell upon a pedestal sink and oval mirror on the sable color wall; a stained glass wall sconce occupying either side of it. There was a divider that held a fronded plant and on the other side of it; the commode. Another divider separated the commode from a mahogany vanity table; an ornately carved antique mirror as its match mate attached to it from the back. On its table were Her toiletries; elegant glass decanters of all shapes and sizes. The perfume She wore was displayed in all aspects of the scent: dusting powder, perfume, body and hand lotions; even bath salts. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the sensuality of Her signature scent as he was led by his shortened leash toward it. His eyes reopened as they traveled the room to the left now, as he viewed a walk- in shower, several showerheads of various heights jutting from the glossy tiled walls and a sweep of glass block functioning as a shower door. Aside from a wide built in shelving unit utilized for towels and a single door leading to somewhere unknown to the slave, the oversized shower area almost completely encompassed that side of the room.

As the Mistress walked Her pet further into Her bath boudoir, She stepped slightly aside, and loosened the slack on his leash. His eyes now fell upon the reason he and his Mistress were here. A gothic shaped arch in rich mahogany wood framed out the room's focal point: the jacuzzi. Its size was that of a small pool, occupying the far wall of the opulently appointed room. Two steps were required to enter it, and the submissive noticed a single sumptuously thick robe draped on a bench alongside the steps as they approached. The jets had already been turned on and set on a gentle massage- like speed; obviously programmed by the shadowy figure that had passed behind him in Her chambers. Two crystal snifters were on the ornate tiled ledge that surrounded the huge tub and were filled with the deep hued brandy as per Mistress' desire. An equally large skylight vaulting above the tub allowed the summer night's stars to provide the second source of light to the luxurious room. The third source of mood lighting was offered up by the jacuzzi itself; as underwater lights on its walls cast their own erotic foreplay with the rippling water.