Joanna opened the front door and stepped back. Sir took in her outfit with raised eyebrows. Instead of the usual white, flowing dress with nothing but lace panties underneath, that day she was dressed all in black. Her sheer blouse hugged her slender body, and the nipples were outlined in silk. She was wearing a leather skirt, tight and short. Her legs were sheathed in black stockings, stiletto heels on her feet. Her lips were painted a bright blood red.
She looked at him boldly, though her heart was beating rather too fast. “Hello, Robert,” she said, rolling the word on her tongue. She was so used to calling him Sir that using his given name felt strange. But obviously it wouldn’t do for a Mistress to call her sub boy Sir!
They’d continued to talk over the course of several days about the idea of his submitting to her as her sub for one session, and she’d become increasingly intrigued with the idea of it being something real, not just her playful attempts to goad him along.
She was excited by the prospect, and a little afraid too. She’d never used a whip, and certainly not a cane. She understood the skill it took to bring someone over the threshold of erotic pain, without taking them so far that what should have been pleasurable became only suffering.
She wanted to give Sir, to give Robert, the same intensity of experience he routinely offered her. She had no idea if she could do it, but she was determined to try. Now she looked him straight in the eye. No bowed head, no crossed wrists, no trembling slave girl aching to serve him, to suffer for him.
For this one day, she was in control. She would call the shots. Robert stood at the door, making no move to enter. Was he nervous too? Joanna smiled, mentally girding herself into Mistress mode.
“Don’t just stand there. Come in. Today you belong to me, Robert. I own you. Are you ready to submit to me, boy? Are you ready to feel what it is to suffer for the one you love?”
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