`“So, tell me, what was it you wanted?”
“Oh, you know,” said the slightly-rebellious slave, half-smiling.
The Mistress smiled sweetly in reply.
“Oh, no, that just won’t cut it.” His snarky smile grew wider.
“Yeah?”
Without warning she slapped him across the face with a crop he hadn’t seen in her hand. Not a hard slap, just enough to sting and leave a small red square on his cheek. His shoulders sagged and the smile evaporated.
“Yeah.” Her smile slipped from sweet to cruel.
“I…” he gulped, “I want to be your bitch, mainly. Mistress.”
“Get on your knees, then.” He knelt slowly before her, his head low, and stared at her feet. Black leather stiletto heels that brought her almost to the same standing height as him. His heart started beating harder.
“My bitch?” She said. “And what else?”
“Your slave. Your toy. Your… slut.” He loved and hated that word. It sent his pulse skyrocketing with shame, fear, and desire.
“All that and more, pet. Go get your cuffs.”
He went to his safe and pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs on a long chain, hoping she’d accept them and not make him use the other ones. Or at least not notice them until things were underway…
“Show me. I want to be sure you got the right ones.” His hopes most likely shattered, he held them up to her. She glared, stalked over, and cracked the crop against the other side of his face. “Wrong, slut. Your cuffs. The pink ones.”
She turned her back as he sighed and replaced the silver police cuffs, and drew out the demeaning, hot-pink cuffs on the short chain. She knew he would never attempt to disobey or misinterpret the order a second time. She sat in a comfortable, tall-backed armchair and beckoned to him.
“Come here.” He walked over and she took the cuffs from him, chaining his wrists together in front of him. “Now go get me a drink. Rum and coke.” He turned and walked to the bar set against the far wall. She watched his ass, plotting. He returned in short order with her drink. She sipped at it and crossed her knees, the short black skirt, trimmed in red, sliding up slightly higher, showing a bit more of her pale thighs. He watched silently, drooling in his head but not daring to show it at all, and knelt down again.
“What exactly is it our toy wants tonight, hmm?”
“Whatever you like, ma’am…” She slapped him with the crop again, harder this time.
“No. I’ve told you I don’t accept that answer, now come up with a better one.” He hung his head.
“I want to wear your collar and be forced to pleasure you, Mistress, to make you come. Please.”
“You may not get all of that tonight,” she said, already knowing what she planned to withhold, “but at least you’re learning what to ask for and how to ask for it.” She set her drink down and opened a drawer in the front of the table near her chair. From it she took and handed him a thick collar, with one-inch chromed o-rings hanging from the front and back and an open padlock at the back beneath the ring. He ran his fingers over the dark purple leather, his eyes glazing slightly.