I wasn't rushing, but I was conscious of my progress. It was after 9 p.m. and the streets were sparse, both of vehicles and people. Thick clouds had hung down low over the city since noon yesterday and tonight they were weeping their moisture in a continual downpour. The miserable late autumn weather was keeping most of the population indoors and the shows and restaurants I passed looked unusually vacant and quiet.
Not a warm picture in any one's mind, yet not near enough to get in the way of my plans for this evening. As I trudged along the sidewalk soaking wet, through the bleak dull darkness of this November night, I was buoyed by a pending event of human activity that was almost in my grasp. I was on that proverbial mission we all nurture deep inside and my goal tonight was resolute.
As I pressed further into the depth of the city towards my ultimate destination, the rain gushed forth at times, in a series of heavy downpours. I was thankful that it wasn't snow or sleet. At one point, I had to duck for cover under a cloth awning as sheets of rain fell like thick curtains of cloth.
I paused at a major intersection and stood patiently waiting for the traffic light to change to green. A billboard high atop an office building six or seven blocks over, announced the arrival of a new millennia quartz wrist watch to a chain of a nationally recognized jewellery stores. It was effective advertising campaign because I immediately checked my own watch against the time on the sign.
I'm glad I did. I was running late! No time now to consider buying a new watch, that's for sure. I had to pick up my pace.
Dispensing with usual caution, I crossed the street against the red light. I don't often rebel against civil authority but I had my orders for this evening and I wasn't about to disobey them, jay-walking ticket or not.
A couple of cars whizzed by just as I made it to the other side. Their tires sang as they sluiced through the thick layer of water that covered the pavement. Once on the south side of the street, I resumed my course and hustled along to make up the time already lost.
Up ahead, in the embrace of a glassed-in transit shelter, one solitary soul stood huddled against the storm. I had seen few others this evening so I stole a glance at the person as I passed. She was a young woman and appeared to be just as drenched as me. She was shivering in spurts and starts. Poor dear I mused and then thought that I too might be in a similar situation later on in the evening.
I stove my hands deep into my pockets and brushed away some loose strands of hair that hung dangling across my brow. The saturated strands swayed back and forth across my line of sight like wiper blades on a car.
I chose to cut across a vacant lot where an enormous developer's sign indicated a gigantic building complex sometime in the near future. The earth had been dug up and was uneven. I mumbled in guttural terms as I dodged one puddle only to slip ankle deep into another.
People who knew me would say I was crazy to be out on a night like this. But, what did they really know about me and my motivation? Could they possibly understand the value of the reward that I was looking for tonight? I don't think so. My small circle of friends has no idea what this all means to me or why I would expose myself to the foul elements a damp winter's rain storm in search of it. Yet I wouldn't have been able to explain the why and where for to them, even had I wanted to.
I checked my watch again. Punctuality is a virtue with me. And when it comes to being on time, I have always carried out my side of the agreement to the very 'letter'. After all, punctuality is one of the fundamental building blocks of obedience. Obeying orders and commands as instantaneously as they are spoke, is also one of the ways in which I show respect to Mistress Deirdre.
Mistress Deirdre is my 'Master'. I am her slave. I have been serving her for almost 15 years. She works more slaves than just me and as a guess I would say that there may be up to twenty-five other men just like me under her control. None of us really knows the other and I only found out of their existence by accident one afternoon to which I suffered a severe disciplining from Mistress.
Over the years I have been very diligent to earn Mistress's favour at every opportunity. Little wonder that nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, is allowed to get in my way from achieving all that is expected of me and everything that Mistress wants, needs, and/or demands. And tonight, Mistress wants me to be in her presence at 9 p.m. sharp!
I quickened my pace once again, energized by the power over which Mistress Deirdre controls and manipulates me.
No act or occurrence is ever carried out or conducted by Mistress Deidre that hasn't already been planned out well in advance. She is a meticulous matron and a perfectionist; a virtual role model for other women who may be curious as to how it feels to completely dominate a man.
From my close association with her over the years, I have come to understand that Mistress Deirdre's recipe for success is to become thoroughly acquainted with the traits and characteristics of each of her aspiring male clients. Then, with discreet tact and aplomb, she incorporates what she learns of their behaviours and traits, into the regimen of their training. Her goal has always been to accentuate the performance skills of all of her male slaves to the very peak of perfection. I have to point out here, that her expectations are high and Mistress Deirdre suffers no fools.
According to Mistress Deirdre, the best of men, even those who have been successfully trained as male slaves to expertly service and cater to dominant women are, by there very nature, inherently clumsy, inarticulate, and to a large degree, lazy.
There is no intimacy shared between her and any of her stable of men but there is a Grand Canyon depth of understanding that exists between Mistress and her 'charges'. I suppose that is the true secret of Mistress Deidre's triumph over submissive men and why she is superior amongst equals. However, for a man to be allowed to obey the obdurate demands of her dominant nature, the path is not an easy one to follow. She depends on a very high turn over and pushes every male who yearns to service her, to his very limits.
Like all those before me, I began at the lowly level of 'John'. A 'John' is an apprentice who is placed on one month's probation. Like all the others, I was levied a substantial monetary token in exchange for the privilege of doing nothing more than removing Mistress's daily garbage and sweeping out her condo parking space once a week. If, after a few weeks of completing these tasks in an exemplary fashion, a 'John' may be further permitted to clean and sanitize Mistress's toilets, tubs, and shower stalls for the remaining two weeks of his initial servitude.
A 'John' is never allowed to deal directly with the Mistress. His only contact is an envelope clipped to the wall of her parking space. His orders are contained inside. That's his only contact. When he is finished his work, he is expected to quietly leave Mistress's premises. He pays for this solitary privilege, every week.
If a 'John' successfully endures the isolation and humiliation related to carrying out these types of demeaning tasks he may be eligible to be elevated to the next level of subservience; that of Mistress's boot licker. A submissive male has absolutely no say in the matters regarding the possibility of promotion, he is simply chosen by the Mistress to advance, or he is left at his current entry level, or he is dismissed.
Deadwood duds do not fair well in Mistress Deidre's world of Feminine Domination. They are simply not tolerated. Obey, submit, and be quiet. . .or be banished!
In the elevated position of 'Boot Licker', the monetary token required of the successful male is doubled. However, his responsibilities are increased and he is actually allowed to be in the presence of the Mistress; briefly mind you, but nonetheless a plum of a privilege for aspiring submissive males.
As for the duties, they consist of ensuring the cleanliness of all of Mistress's foot ware. For the task, the 'boot licker' is only provided with a roll of toilet tissue paper. One roll, no more, which must last him for 60 days. The only other cleaning tool at his disposal of course, is his tongue.
If, after a period of 60 days, a 'Boot Licker' maintains his desire to prove his worth even more by serving the Mistress in higher levels of task oriented and degrading labour, it is then possible for him to be selected for promotion once again.
The next level that a male in training can rise to would be that of Mistress's panty attendant. Again, there is an increase in the cost of this promotion and the aspiring male slave is cautioned that the standard value of a mere token must give way to the much higher value of that represented by a Tribute.
At this juncture in his training there is a change in objectivity. As a Panty Attendant, the completion of his tasks is far less important to his future promotions then that of his mannerisms of obedience and urgency of his reaction to Mistress's every command. However, the challenge for the male is that there is no distinction between Mistress's commands that are spoken, which are easy to recognize and carry out, and those that manifest themselves as subtle commands, perhaps no more defined than being merely implied by body language, circumstance, or social common sense. Regardless, the male must read and interpret the signs correctly and react according. Throughout it all, he must be prudent enough not to pre-empt or anticipated any order or command.
Every one of a Panty Attendant's responses and reactions is duly noted and graded. Failure on the male's part to achieve an overall grade of "A" which is equal to allowing for only 'one' mistake per day over a 14 day period, will lead to his abrupt discharge from the premises and total prohibition from any further service to the Mistress.
It is not a pretty sight to witness a supplicant male as he is being escorted from Mistress's domain as a result of his failure to serve in a proper manner.
Submissive men in these circumstances often find it extremely difficult to function in their lives after being so close to success, only to have had the door literally slammed in their face. Most suffer problems associated with serious withdrawal and the overwhelming responsibility that they must adjust their lifestyle. I knew a man who was almost consumed by depression and loneliness until he found a woman who was interested in picking up the pieces of his life.
I have also read somewhere that such men who find themselves without the constant harangue and punitive intolerance with which powerful females control submissive men, that they can become self-incarcerated into a 'vanilla' world of bland colours and mediocre existence. Not to mention the mental confinement of having to accept bland sex as a conclusive result of uninspiring groping. Many outside the 'scene' refer to that as 'foreplay' and therefore, an antecedent moment to coitus. I'm not sure how any of that would feel but it certainly doesn't sound like anything that would be sensual or erotic.
It is safe to say the 'Panty Attendants' suffer a very high rate of turnover in Mistress Deidre's realm of Domination. Only the absolute best are expected to survive this level and those who do, do so only by dedicating themselves totally in the sole pursuit of pleasing Mistress Deidre. Through strict obedience and a focus on detail can a Panty Attendant expect to succeed.
In my own case, I was happy to serve Mistress throughout all of the apprenticed levels. During each phase of my training I was consistent and dependable and always ready to serve with an ever increasing token and Tribute. I looked forward to striving for perfection in my service to Mistress and I climbed through each level of subservience to her by focusing on success and not the advent of any kind of failure on my part.
So it was with much pride, some 14 months after I began as a 'John', that I was offered the exalted position of joining Mistress Deidre's stable as one of her personal 'Slaves'.
The meaning of this achievement to a submissive male like me is akin to a religious event that is nothing short of a miracle. Mistress Deidre's offer to me meant that I had been given the honour to accept the irrefutable fact that she would be running and controlling my life for the rest of my days. It meant that I would voluntarily abdicate my autonomy as a male and that I would duly accept the fact that from here on in I would only act and behave in a manner as dictated or allowed by Mistress Deirdre.
Furthermore, going forward, I would be expected to be devoted to one role and that was satisfying all of Mistress Deirdre's needs and whims. It would also mean that I would acknowledge and agree to respect the absolute authority of Mistress Deidre in my life and submissively concede to this fact by appending my name to a legally binding contract. This administrative castration would be witnessed and the entire act would be video taped by Mistress's lawyers.
While I would never ever be allowed to occupy a place at her residence, I would forever be required to be at her beck and call, 24/7.
But there was much more that I agreed to relinquish by accepting Mistress Deirdre's promotion to be one of her personal slaves. As a binding condition of my acceptance of her offer, I also had to agree to a pecuniary forfeiture. Before I could begin as Mistress's full time slave, I had to relinquish 85% of my total net worth towards Mistress's financial needs. This money would be taken by Mistress Deidre for her own private use without question or objection from me. In addition, I agreed to continue to pay all applicable taxes for this money thereby guaranteeing no loss of the principle amount accrued to Mistress.
Financial domination is a very attractive and powerful adjunct to our long standing partnership.
So there it was. I had earned the promotion and accepted the offer to become a male submissive slave to a very dominant woman. I had agreed that I would have no control. I would have no money. I'd be a true slave in the truest sense of the word. I'd be completely and resolutely controlled by a female.
There were no red flags. I knew what I wanted. None of her draconian demands regarding my lifetime of servitude mattered to me, one iota. I loved Mistress and I immediately fell to my knees in front of her and kissed her boots, licking them to a high glistening sheen. I accepted her offer without hesitation.
Now, every second week, I humbly comply with my financial obligations by stripping naked and kneeling before her. I approach submissively on all fours like a pet dog, urging her by silent plea, to take the wallet from my mouth. After she removes a hefty wad of bills, she drops the empty pouch to the floor like a piece of discarded garbage.
"Good boy," is all she says before patting me twice on the head. Then, I am brusquely dismissed. As I leave, I observe another naked male crawling in to replace me, heading in the direction of the booted feet of Mistress Deidre. Like me, he also approaches with his wallet firmly grasped between his teeth.
Other men, all submissives of one type or another, continue to visit Mistress Deirdre. These men are received by her strictly on a 'pay-for-services' basis; incremental income for the Mistress, I suppose. My job in this scenario is to clean all of the equipment as well as the studio they use, after each session is concluded. However, for my further humiliation training, if any of her clients, for whatever reason, is unable to arrange for the proper token for services rendered, I am expected to ante up the required amount on his behalf without whimper or objection.
I was actually running full out when I passed through the main doors of the lobby of her building. My haste may have been construed as more of a way to get free of the rain than about making it on time. Reality however is that punctuality is my sole priority.
So I rushed through the secondary inside glass doors with such force that I almost lost my footing on the glazed tiled floor. Mistress Deirdre lives in a 2-level penthouse and has her own separate elevator. I located her security button with familiarity and pushed it firmly. She answered as she always does by simply pushing the 'talk' button. Her reply causes only static noise and the hint of an echo; no words are ever spoken.
My response to this is to politely request Mistress's permission to enter. Mistress responds by clicking 'off', leaving dead silence in the lobby as I'm left to stand alone and watch the water drip from the hem at the bottom of my coat. The interlude is eventually broken by the subtle soft 'click' of the door lock being released.
Deidre greeted me in a warm and welcoming manner. She was always the perfect hostess when a session is about to begin; pleasant and sincere, that was one side of Deidre not many others knew of.
This evening she was wearing a full length gown. It was a marvellous design with a very revealing slit manipulated into the front it. Any movement of her body caused the hemmed edges to fully open. The result was a breathtaking view of pearl white thighs.
The gown was a jet black and smooth as silk. It hugged her body and mapped the contour of each ebb and swell of her petite frame. String straps, flimsy by design, held the front piece of her wardrobe. Delicious firm breasts nestled there, challenging the strength of the straps and teasing those who thought they'd break under the strain.
Deidre doesn't need a lot of make up. Perhaps a subtle hint of eye shadow and a soft hue of red for her lips but that was the extent of it. Her eyes speak volumes and I listen acutely when ever I look into them. Her auburn hair glistens and it flows across her face in a natural and unassuming way. I wanted to step forward and assert myself; I wanted to embrace her lovingly; but that is never allowed.
The evening began pleasurably as I envisaged it would. I knew something unexpected was planned, but at what point it would occur, I was not sure, nor did I have any clue as to how it would 'play' out. As usual, I hid any signs of anticipation.
Mistress and I sat together in her plush suite, commiserating pleasurably about the weather, the highs and lows of my work a day world, and together, slowly, cautiously, we moved the conversation into the arena of our special interest.
Thirty minutes passed quickly. And it was at just that point in the evening when her door security buzzer activated its indiscriminate sound. Deidre excused herself politely and went over to answer it. I watched as she pushed the 'talk' button, then released it and then made contact with the 'listen' button. I noted that the procedure was conducted all in the same manner as she does with me. Barely audible, I heard a male voice request permission to enter. Mistress acknowledged by pressing the 'door' button.
My heart raced. It was most uncommon for another visitor to request permission to enter during my time with Deidre.
Deidre returned to the living room seemingly nonplussed about the whole thing and joined me as if nothing untoward had happened. But when she sat down, she chose to sit in a winged back chair opposite instead of sitting back down beside me. We took up our chat at the point where we had left off and when the knock came at her door, she asked if I would please answer it. I did as I was requested and opened the door to face not one, but two well dressed gentlemen.
The younger of the two looked to be about 25 years old. He was tall and muscular looking and rather well groomed. He had a full mane of hair and a strong face which was appointed with gleaming white teeth and a disarming smile. He stood about 6 feet tall and introduced himself as Rob. His language and choice of words bespoke of a good education and a genteel upbringing. If he were the product of a northern European heritage as I suspected he was, he had managed to assimilate to western ways, almost totally.