After a minute I sent him an email filled with work stuff and then, at the bottom, a p.s.
I can’t give you what you want, but I can give you something in memory of the great fuck. I think you’re a sub like me. If you are, or you want to find out if you are, leave with me tonight. You’re not going to have sex with me, but you’re going to do everything I say.
I worked a little late, Joe worked late too. As I knew he would. I gave him a small nod and he came over and held my jacket out for me. Were we so easily in sync, me and this near stranger I felt nothing more than friendship for?
Joe’s breathing was heavy, nervous, but his posture was relaxed and he smiled at me.
I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. ‘If you come with me now I expect you to obey everything I tell you without question.’
‘I know. I read your email.’
‘OK.’ My own heart was beating fast. ‘You’re going to drive me to see a friend of mine.’
I didn’t text Slave to tell him we were coming to see him. I wanted the power of surprise. I just hoped he was in.
Joe tried to make conversation in the car.
I shook my head. ‘You’re a slave now. You don’t speak unless spoken to.’
‘Like a Victorian child, seen but not heard?’
‘That’ll work.’
But he seemed incapable of driving without speaking; throughout the journey he asked questions.
‘Do you realise how happy you made me today by sending me that email?’
‘Why do you think I am a sub?’
‘How did you find out that you were a sub?’
‘Are you sure you’re a sub? You don’t seem that submissive to me.’
‘The sex we had was the best of my life, but I suspect it was normal for you?’
‘Is there something between us, or is it just my imagination?’
I answered that last one. ‘Mostly your imagination.’
‘Mostly?’
‘Ninety-nine point nine per cent.’
‘Good to know I’ve got a chance.’ He winked at me.
‘I was trying to be kind. Our relationship is 100 per cent your imagination. This is all a dream, I’m not really here. In a minute you’re going to be standing naked in your school, late for all your exams.’
‘My earliest fantasy. How do you know so much about me? Just need Ms Bailey to appear and take me to her office for a long detention.’
I laughed. Were mistresses supposed to laugh? Fuck, I could do whatever I wanted. Kind of. It was a strange balance where I was apparently in charge but I had to think all the time about the sub’s desires.
‘Stop this dream car here and we’ll see if we can find Ms Bailey, or some equivalent, for you.’
Joe walked around and held the car door open for me. ‘I would say that I don’t think anyone can ever match all the excitement and thrill of that first rites of passage crush on an impossibly experienced and enchanting teacher. Damn, she had great tits. You’ll laugh but I sometimes still, you know, wank thinking about her. But, anyway, none of that holds now that I’ve met you. You go beyond everything else.’
I stepped out without looking at him. ‘Ms Bailey was your English teacher?’
He matched my pace, shaking his head and chuckling. ‘How do you know these things?’
Because it’s always the English teacher. With their poetry. Their reading, constantly experiencing other people’s dreams and desires. Their command of language giving them command of everyone else’s mind. Their voice.’
His voice.
My lover whispering Shakespeare into my ear before bringing the whip down across my buttocks.
Let not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.
Thwack. Stinging, beautiful pain.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.
Thwack. Pain upon pain.
I could not remember any more of the sonnet, just the timbre of my lover’s voice and the tenderness of his hand rubbing my arse when the whipping finished.
I swallowed hard. Joe had an occasional wank and laughed about his teenage crush. I was living mine, clinging on to the dream that I could remain a child and be protected and looked after by the experienced, intelligent, older man.
We reached Slave’s flat. I ignored the doorbell and rapped on the door. In my mind I’d had a series of images like a flick book of what I wanted to happen inside his home.
When Slave opened the door, though, he was somehow more real than he had seemed before. It didn’t quite make sense to me, but I realised that for me he existed almost as a mental caricature of a person, yet here he stood before me seeming more human than he ever had before.
It was the upright confidence posture of his body, the expression on his face which was distant and distrustful. ‘Hello, mistress.’ He looked beyond me at Joe.’
‘Hi, mate.’ Joe held his hand out and Slave took it and gave it a firm shake.
Slave remembered his role enough to look down and not into my face. ‘Mistress, have I missed something, a text or an email?’ There was the familiar sound of worry that renewed my confidence about why I’d chosen to come here. But there was also an unfamiliar weariness. ‘My phone has been charging. I’ve noticed that you don’t usually contact me during the week before ten in the evening so I thought it was a good time to charge my phone. I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘I didn’t tell you I was coming.’ I stepped into his hall, taking Joe’s hand and drawing him with me.
‘Mistress, I …’
For a moment, I paused. I thought Slave would bar me walking into his lounge, but he moved to the side.
‘Mistress, I was not expecting you or your friend. I’m sorry, I’m not prepared.’
‘I’ve told you before that you should always be prepared for whenever I might require you.’
‘Yes, mistress, you have. It is only just beginning to sink in what you mean when you tell me to always be ready to serve you.’ He bowed his head.
A smell of cooking filled the rooms. Something plain, pasta? And probably some sort of Bolognese sauce.
‘You’re making dinner. You are ready to serve us after all. Bring us some food, slut. We’re hungry.’ I took my jacket off and dropped it on the floor. He scurried forward fast enough to catch it.
‘Mistress, may I –? I mean, I was expecting someone else. Can I please be permitted to phone them and let them know I’m now otherwise engaged?’
‘They can join us, slave. It’ll be fun to meet your friends.’
Joe had sat down on the sofa and was flicking through one of Slave’s wedding magazines. I wasn’t sure if he was following what Slave and I were doing, but now he looked up with a smile. ‘The more the merrier.’
Joe wasn’t acting like the submissive I’d created in my vision of what would happen this evening, but there was something right in his presence. Somehow the easiness of his manner contrasted with Slave’s humble uncertainty and created the atmosphere I needed to produce my performance.
Slave’s face was a strange mixture of blanched and flushed, fluctuating between the two extremes of colour and paleness. ‘I don’t think … Please, mistress. My friend wouldn’t – I mean, please let me tell them not to come. They wouldn’t be comfortable around you, mistress. Please allow me to phone them, please.’ He pressed his palms together in desperate prayer.
Was I his goddess?
I’d seen that term in books, but it was too large, too much responsibility and power. But I had willingly taken on this role.
I chucked him under the chin. ‘Is it one of your little church friends coming to visit? What is it, you don’t want me to corrupt them, or you don’t want them to know who you really are?’
Normally he smiled when I teased him and if I touched him he glowed. Tonight his expression was shocked and nervous.
I stepped away from him, towards Joe. ‘Go ahead, phone your friend. Then bring us something to eat and drink.’
‘Thank you, mistress. You’re very kind.’ He scuttled away to the kitchen and I heard him speaking in a low voice.
I sat next to Joe looking over at the glossy, airbrushed into perfection models in their bridal gowns. It made me feel infinitely sad for reasons I could not think about.
‘I was engaged once,’ Joe said.
‘You were?’
‘Don’t sound so surprised. It didn’t last. She was fickle like all women, and ate the engagement ring five minutes after I gave it to her.’
‘What?’
‘It was a Hula Hoop.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I was only seven. I could hardly afford diamonds.’
I nudged him in the ribs and we giggled. Was this what other women of my age felt in their relationships? I thought of all my girlfriends’ chatter about their various men. I listened and I laughed and I sympathised with them, but I never truly understood. Is this what it was like? A good male friend who you also happened to fuck every night?
Slave brought in two plates laden with spaghetti and a thick tomato sauce. ‘Would you like to eat here or at the table, mistress?’
‘Do I look like someone who eats dinner on their lap in front of the telly?’
Joe, who had seen me rush through my lunch at work, had enough awareness of the dynamics at play not to snigger.
‘Sorry, mistress, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’ll set the table for you.’
When Joe and I were sitting down for our meal, Slave knelt by my side with his head bowed.
‘Squeeze,’ I ordered Slave.
He obeyed. Joe looked on, amused.
‘I asked you to bring us a drink and you’ve failed.’
‘Oh pants! I’m sorry, mistress, I forgot. I’m a stupid, cock-loving slut, please forgive me.’
‘Release and get that drink quickly. Make it something strong.’
He returned with wine. Joe chatted amicably to me as we ate. At first he acted like a normal polite British person, thanking Slave for his efforts, complimenting his flat and the meal; then he followed my lead and acted as if Slave was below our notice. I looked into Joe’s eyes. It was a game to him, a slightly odd, curious game.
Joe had responded to my email because of his attraction to me, not because I had seen his inner desires and discovered his real sexual personality. The situation with Marcus, my constant unrequited need for my lover, it was tainting my judgement. Without any obvious reason or trigger my mind bounced between certainty and doubt.
Perhaps I would change my plan. After Joe and I finished eating, I could take his hand and walk out of this flat without another word. That was strange and dominant enough to please both of them.
I could order Slave to quit his job, tell him to move in with me and be my full-time slut. He’d cook, clean, polish, scrub away all the dirt in my life. It would look like he was caring for me, but all the time it would be me looking after him, making all the decisions and removing all the weight of responsibility from his slim shoulders.
Or Slave could fade into grey, the same way Marcus would, the same way all my early flings had. Joe could be my boyfriend. I’d laugh off the whole submissive thing as he laughed off his teenage crush on his English teacher. I’d experience normal. Make him protein shakes, cheer him on when he finished another of his endurance tests. No, once he had me, there’d be nothing left to prove. We’d watch trashy telly, idiot comedies, go out to the pub with our mutual friends. He’d still go to the gym but gradually his muscle would turn to fat and I’d get my secret thrills from seeing the bland models and sportsmen reveal their bodies in adverts for aftershave and pants.
I would never know; those paths weren’t mine.
This was my moment to see how far I could push these two men, to learn how far they wanted to be pushed. It didn’t matter if one or both of them backed away. I’d brought all three of us here into this scene, now was the time to play it out.
I finished my glass of wine and directed my attention to Slave. ‘Take your clothes off, slut.’
His body froze apart from the deep rise and fall of his chest. Then his tongue wet his lips and he gave a small nod. ‘Yes, mistress. Of course, mistress, I’m yours to command.’
I watched Joe as Slave awkwardly undressed. His face shone with amusement. I took his chin between my thumb and first finger and turned his head to look at me. Immediately his expression changed to lust, his pupils widened, darkening his eyes, his lips slightly parted.
‘You recall what I told you before we came here.’ I traced my nail over his beautiful mouth.
‘Yes, mistress, I’m yours.’ His voice wasn’t quite a mockery of Slave’s, but there was something teasing in it. If my heart wasn’t full of my master maybe, just maybe, I would have enjoyed spending a long, long time taming him. ‘Do you want me to take my clothes off too?’
‘Always.’ I smiled at him; the sternness that I could summon for Slave didn’t appear so easily with him.
I gazed at Joe as he undressed. There was a smooth elegance to his movements, but it was the masculine beauty of his body which had the power to take my breath away. It was only thinking about my master that kept my mind focused and prevented me from becoming a dizzy-headed schoolgirl. Standing naked, Joe met my gaze. His arms hung casually by his side in sharp contrast to Slave, who had his head bowed and his hands shamefully folded over his sex. The difference in postures and physiques made me warm to Slave, the undeniable appeal of the brave underdog.
I walked around the two men. Joe turned his head to keep me within his sight. Slave remained still.
I stood before them. ‘Joe, meet your playmate for today, you can call him Slave or Daisy.’ Pronouncing his name, I realised it sounded too friendly, too casual. Even if my mistress persona was easier with Joe, it still had to be in place. Should I call him Joseph? No, it sounded too biblical. I repeated his name in my mind, then smiled. His surname was too perfect. ‘Slave, you will be serving my friend as well as myself today. Don’t dare to disappoint me. Say hello to Harvey.’
Harvey was the name of the big, ginger tomcat my lover had before his current Siamese. If it was possible, he loved the ginger tom even more.
‘Hello, Harvey,’ Slave murmured in the other man’s direction.
‘Take Harvey to your bathroom, Daisy. You are going to give him a shower.’ There was incredible power in renaming them; it made them my possessions, my pets.
I followed them into Slave’s small bathroom. I leant against the cold, white-tiled wall. Harvey/Joe stepped into the bath and Slave followed him, reaching around him to turn on the shower.
The water cascaded over my work colleague’s body. I bit my lip and watched in silence before I rediscovered my mistress persona and started to give orders.
‘Touch his body, Daisy. That’s it, rub your hands over his chest. Do you like that, Slave? Are you attracted to Harvey’s body?’
The slimmer man was circling his hands over Joe’s chest as if Joe was a woman with breasts to caress, I found it strangely arousing.
Slave turned his head towards me. I slapped my hand hard against the tiles and he jumped. ‘Sorry, mistress.’
‘I asked you a question, I didn’t tell you to stop what you’re doing. Please tell me you’re capable of moving your hands and speaking at the same time.’
‘Sorry, mistress.’
‘Don’t apologise, do what you’re supposed to do. Answer my question.’
‘I don’t normally find men attractive, mistress.’
‘I’m not talking about anything normal, slut, I’m talking about right here and now.’ I noticed Harvey/Joe’s cock flicker with interest the harder my tone was when I rebuked Slave.
‘I’m always turned on when I’m with you. No one else has ever excited me the way you do.’
I sighed an exaggerated, heavy sigh. ‘If you want me to punish you, just ask in your humblest voice, don’t aggravate me with this constant idiotic behaviour. Answer the question or I will tie you up and blindfold you and make you lis
ten to me fuck Harvey in every room of your house.’
Joe/Harvey raised his hand. ‘Miss, can I humbly ask that we do that whether he answers your question or not.’
I ignored him and glared at Slave.
‘I’m attracted to whoever you say I am, mistress,’ Slave finally answered.
‘I want to see you soap your playmate’s body, I want to see you both covered in lather.’
‘Yes, mistress. Of course, mistress.’ He reached for a neon yellow bottle of shower gel and poured it over his hand.
The small room filled with the fake scent of lemons. Harvey/Joe smiled over Slave’s head at me as Slave meticulously rubbed shower gel over his arms and torso. I relished the nervous expression on Slave’s face as his fingers moved lower, down the other man’s stomach. He spent an inordinate amount of time soaping Harvey/Joe’s six-pack.
‘I say that you’re incredibly attracted to your new playmate, slut. I say you’ve lain in bed many nights dreaming of touching a body as perfect as his.’ I took a deep breath and gazed at the two men with their semi-erections; they were more ready than I was. They just needed the order. ‘I say you want to suck Harvey’s massive cock. You’re desperate to feel it inside your mouth. All your life you’ve yearned to be that close to a real man, haven’t you, slut?’
‘I have, mistress.’ His voice didn’t falter or pause at all.
Joe/Harvey stared at me. He smiled and shook his head in happy disbelief.
He would do it. He would really do it. My heart beat fast; my body was both weak and strong, giddy with the power these two men had given me.
‘You have permission to fulfil your dreams, Daisy. Suck on Harvey’s cock.’
‘Yes, mistress. Whatever you command, mistress.’ With care he dropped to his knees and positioned his mouth about an inch away from the other man’s cock.
I stepped forward and took Harvey’s girth in my own hand. I rubbed the tip of it over Slave’s cheeks. I traced the cock around his lips. I couldn’t resist wanking my fingers over that thick, wonderful cock. I whacked it against the side of Slave’s face, then smacked it against his lips.
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