The Reluctant Mistress and Her Unexpected Transition Part 3
Needless to say, an hour later when I let my dear submissive boy out of his cage, he was as hard as a man can get. But we didn’t have sex. Nope, not this mistress. I had prepared supper (I love cooking and sitting with Danny at the dining room table, chatting about the events of the day). Our meal was ready and I didn’t want it to go cold. Besides, if this submission thing was going to be on my terms, then it was my terms, right?
I sent Danny to the shower. I told him to take a cold shower and I’d be in to check. And make it quick. As I set the table I heard the water running, so I ran into the bathroom, pulled back the shower curtain (my shower is in an old-fashioned tub), and there he was, taking huge gulps of air under a spray of cold running water, his dick still hard as a rock. I rubbed my hand on his ass. “Good boy.” Then I gave his left cheek a stinging slap that made him wince. “Supper is ready, pet. Don’t be long.”
At the table, I had set two bowls of soup. Danny’s place was always immediately to my right. I have always sat at the head of the table; it was nothing conscious, it simply seemed the logical place to sit when eating alone.
When Danny came into my life, I kept the habit and he sat next to me where we could brush knees. I liked being close to him. When Danny came in the dining room, his hair was tousled and still wet. He wore blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, and was a little out of breath. I stood at the head of the table, waiting behind my chair. He’s a quick learner. He came around to move my chair back and seat me. As I sat I noticed him looking down, eyeing my breasts. “Thank you, Danny.”
Good boy. I hadn’t thought out the name protocol entirely yet, but I was thinking that in public, around other ears, I would have him call me Vanessa, otherwise, when at home or in private, ‘Mistress.”
I was also thinking about a ‘time out’ arrangement, where if I called time out, he would revert to Danny and I would just be regular old me, Vanilla Vanessa. But not just yet.
“Danny, I want you to be my pet just a little longer, okay?”
“Move back your chair and put your bowl on the floor.”
That put a quizzical expression on his face, but he did as he was told.
“Now get on your hands and knees, pet. I want you to eat at my feet.”
He got down on his hands and knees. I noticed he wore loafers, no socks. In a rush, poor thing. Well, I looked down on him, his head poised over the bowl, and it was another Deja-vu moment where I knew exactly what to say, it all seemed so familiar.
“Danny, my pet, unless I instruct you otherwise, you will always kneel at your place on the floor, at the table to my right. You will eat like a dog, lapping up or eating your food without using utensils, is that understood?”
“Now, while you lap up your soup, I have some things to say to you.”
“Go ahead, start eating.”
Danny began slurping up his soup (quite messily, I might add). I spread my napkin on my lap and spooned the vegetable-rice broth into my mouth. Delicious. I put the spoon down. “My pet, I have been thinking about our new arrangement and I have an idea—no, more like a procedure—that we are going to put into practice.” He looked up, soup dripping down his face, looking just adorable.
“It’s called a ‘time out’. When I call time out—and only I can call it—we will revert to the regular you and me, Danny and Vanessa. That way we can enjoy each other’s company in a normal fashion, and be a regular couple. Understood?”
I saw a flash of disappointment on his face, but he said nothing. “Then, when I want you to revert back to being my slave, I will tell you ‘time in,’ or I’ll instruct you to get on your knees, just as you are now. Is that understood?”
He looked a little confused, poor thing. I gave him some help. “The correct response at all times when you are on your knees or otherwise in your submissive role is ‘Yes, Mistress.’”
“Good. Now let’s practice. Slave, get up.”
You are Released
He stood up. His crotch was almost at eye level. I couldn’t help but notice there was a huge bulge behind the buttoned fly. “My sweet pet . . .” I reached out to caress his hard crotch, and I meant to say “time out” but the words that came out of my mouth were different: “Danny, you are released.”
He looked confused. “That’s the same as ‘time out,’ sweetie,” I explained hastily. “If I say to you, ‘you are released,’ it’s the same as ‘time out’. Actually, I think it’s better, because it might be that I am releasing you from slave status for longer than a few moments, maybe for the day, or longer.”
Now he looked disappointed. Almost a pout.
“Danny, you are released. Pick up your bowl and have a seat next to me.”
Sit with me
“Yes . . . sure, Vanessa.” He picked up his bowl, wiped his face with his napkin, and sat at his place next to me. I took his hands. I could tell he had this fantasy of a 24/7 slave status, constantly in a fevered state of arousal. I liked him being super-aroused, but I also liked him just being my guy. How else could I bitch to him about the stuff that happened at work? For that we had to be equals. Besides, when he was a sub, he was sort of stupid. I like having a bright, handy guy around.
“Okay, so I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” I began. “Danny, I like you being my submissive slave. It’s more fun than I imagined, but if we’re going to do it, it has to be on my terms, not yours.” (I hadn’t yet learned the expression ‘topping from the bottom,’ but this was the subject at hand.) “Danny, I know you want me to be your mistress, and the truth is, I kind of like it.” I smiled. “I definitely like how turned on it makes you, and that turns me on, too.”
“But if you really want a Mistress, then you have to accept that it has to be on my terms, when it works for me. Otherwise it’s just your fantasy. You want it to be real, right?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I do, Vanessa. I get it . . .” He looked down at his lap, lost in thought, and it appeared to me the bulge began to deflate, a little, anyway. Then he lifted his eyes to mine and said, “Vanessa, I love you. No, I adore you. I can’t tell you how grateful I am you’ve gone along with this. You are really good at it, better than my wildest imagination . . . I understand that it can’t be all the time, or we would both probably burn out. So sure, you decide how and when, I accept that.”
I leaned over and kissed him. “I love you, Danny.”
“I love you too.”
I brought his hands to my lips, kissed his strong fingers. “Thank you for understanding.” I looked at him playfully. “There’s another thing I want to share, something I’ve learned since we started this.”
He looked at me inquisitively, eyebrows lifted, inviting me to continue.
“You are right; I am a little bossy, I like being in charge. I like that I have this power over you. I like that if I get mad, I can just order you over my knees and spank you, tell it like it is. That part I want to be 24/7 . . . the ability to order you to shut up and kneel at my feet at any time. Are you willing to accept that, that you are always subject to my will?”
His face lit up with gratitude. “I would love that, Vanessa.”
I felt a little mischievous. “Good. Then let’s practice. “Danny, get on your knees.”
He looked startled, but pushed back his chair and got on his knees, facing me expectantly.
“No, what I mean when I say that is that I want you on your hands and knees.”
He dropped down, hands on the hardwood floor. Better, but that wasn’t quite it. “No, what I want is you on your elbows and knees, arms out, head down and butt up, facing my feet.”
He turned to face me, prostrating himself, forearms splayed on the hardwood floor. Better.
“You may kiss my feet, slave.”
I wore sandals, pink socks. He kissed my cotton-clad feet tenderly.
“Good boy, now get up . . . you are released.”
He got up and took his seat with a wry grin.
“So you understand how this works,” I said with a happy laugh.
“Yes, I do,” he said, smiling. “And I think you’re a sexy goddess.”
“Then your first lesson is complete. Now let’s enjoy our supper.”