Mistress Claudia's Bitch by Alex Jordaine, Femdom
As her helpless captive, Peter gets his first taste of what this formidable Mistress will demand.

Copyright 2007 by Alex Jordaine, All rights reserved

Peter had been left in the dark with a raging hard-on, this close to climaxing, and strict instructions not to do anything about it. That had been something like half an hour ago by his anything but exact reckoning and his erection had only just subsided. He heard the door being unlocked, and he automatically shielded his eyes against the burst of white light from that fearsome spotlight that he assumed would follow almost immediately afterwards. Instead Claudia simply turned the overhead lights on and the large room he was in was at once bathed in a pale radiance.

The objects in the room became visible in the soft light but it was not to them that his eyes were drawn at first but to the beautiful woman striding towards him. So, this was what his mystery dominatrix looked like without her leather hood. He’d wondered for a while if she’d ever take the damn thing off. Well, she had now and all he could think was that it had been well worth waiting for. He was struck immediately by the perfect symmetry of her features and how lovely looking she was. Her elegant face was framed by short dark hair and she had almond-shaped eyes that looked almost black, although he could discern a bluish tinge. Her cheekbones were prominent, her nose was slender and her wide fleshy mouth was extremely sensuous.

His gaze then wandered up and down her body and what he saw made him let out an involuntary groan of desire, he simply couldn’t help himself.  She was wearing leather boots with very high heels and her shapely form was perfectly outlined by the extremely tight leather cat suit she was wearing that clung to her body like a second skin. Every curve and swell of her figure, from the contours of her beautiful breasts and erect nipples to the slit of her sex, was delineated and defined by the black leather.

There were those same leather gloves, too. She was evidently still in the outfit, less the hood, she’d been wearing before that he’d only barely been able to make out under the violent assault of that spotlight. Now he could make it out – and make her out too and …wow!

He knew that he had grown erect again at the sight of the woman and as she strode ever closer towards him, swinging her hips as she did, he suddenly felt absurdly embarrassed by his tumescence. He looked away from her and wrapped his manacled wrists around himself, hugging his own body, trying to disguise his erection.

When Claudia arrived by his side she rested her hand firmly under his chin and pulled his face in her direction. “It is time for your shackles to come off,” she said, her dark luminous eyes staring right at him.

She leant forward and unlocked his steel manacles, first the wrists and then the ankles and he breathed a sigh of relief to be free of them. He watched her slip the key into the pocket of her tight leather cat suit and hang the manacles on a hook behind him. It was right next to where the chains were anchored to the brick wall, which had been painted a matte black, he noticed.  Peter rubbed his wrists and ankles that had been locked so tightly for such a long time. But for how long? He simply had no idea.

“Get up,” Claudia said.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied and got unsteadily to his feet.

“You alright?” she said, ostentatiously ignoring his pronounced erection. “You’re not going to fall over or anything?”

“I’m alright thank you, Mistress.”

“I’m glad.” She was smiling as she spoke, just a slight touch at the corner of her mouth. He liked that smile. It seemed strangely sympathetic and that surprised him. In his fevered imagination he’d assumed that this mysterious woman would have had a cruel smile.

She then ran a finger along the musculature of his arm for a few moments. Her touch was electrifying and he felt his breathing quicken. “Take a look round your new home, why don’t you,” she said. “I’m going to sit down.”

Claudia sat in the grandiose high-backed chair, the throne he’d seen her use once before. She scrutinised his every movement as he wandered around the spacious, windowless room, his bare feet smacking against its shiny black marble floor. She noted with an amused smile the way his eyes widened and his erection throbbed at the sights that befell him. For the room – the walls, ceiling and floor of which were all black – was decked out beautifully with the highest quality dungeon equipment that money could buy. It included a wall-mounted St. Andrews cross, a horse, whipping bench and suspension machine. There was a wooden spreader bar with leather manacle attachments at either end, which hung from the ceiling by chains, and another spreader bar of metal, with steel manacle attachments, also hanging by chains. There was also a large metal-framed cage, and two multi-strapped torture chairs, one vertical and the other horizontal.

There was an open cabinet of dark wood fitted against the length of one wall upon which hung a large collection of disciplinary instruments. They ranged from simple straps to tawses, crops, whips, paddles, canes, gags, chains, handcuffs and a variety of clamps and weights. There were also several strap-on dildos and dildo gags, butt plugs and vibrators and a variety of lubricants.

“What do you think?” Claudia asked and he turned away from the cabinet to look at her.

“I don’t know what to say, Mistress,” he replied. But he didn’t need to say anything; his throbbing erection said it all. Here was the man who’d insisted to his wife that he was frightened of pain. That may well be true, almost certainly was true, Claudia thought. But the idea of it obviously turned him on considerably as well, that couldn’t be clearer.

“This dungeon is fully fitted in other ways too,” she said, gesturing towards a door. “Take a glance in there.” Peter did and was surprised once more when he found a large kitchen-dining room, all spick and span and full of state-of-the art kitchen equipment.

 “I’m impressed, Mistress,” Peter said, popping his head out of the door.

 “Have a quick look in there now,” she said, pointing to another door. Peter found behind it a luxurious bathroom, all gleaming marble and chrome. It contained a large bath, a shower stall, a big full length mirror, a WC, a bidet, and a wash hand basin on which there was a cake of soap, a new toothbrush and an unopened tube of toothpaste. A further cursory inspection revealed that there were a variety of other toiletries in the room, including deodorant, shaving foam and a packet of safety razors, as well as a number of clean white towels. It was all very neat and tidy, like the kitchen-diner.

 “What do you think of your gilded cage?” she asked when he emerged from the bathroom. “You’ve seen it all now.”

“I’m lost for words, Mistress,” he said, thinking: a person could make this place his home, for heaven’s sake. He found the idea of that perversely thrilling.

“Do you know what I want you to do right now, Peter?” she said, staring unblinking into the deep blue of his eyes.

“No, Mistress.”

“I want you to perform your ablutions,” she said. “You know, all the usual stuff – clean your teeth, shave, shower, blah, blah.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Wash every part of yourself thoroughly,” she added. “And I do mean every part of you.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, continuing to look back into her extraordinary dark eyes. Those eyes seemed to be drawing him more and more into their orbit with every passing second.

“Do you know why I want you squeaky clean?” she asked, her eyes still drawing him to her, seeming to see right through to the very heart of him.

“No, Mistress,” he said in a croak. It was true, he didn’t know why she wanted him nice and clean but he had a damned good idea.

 “I want to have sex with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“…Mistress…” he gulped. He could barely speak. An intense feeling of desire flooded through him.

“Oh, and Peter,” she added.

“Yes, Mistress.”

 “You know I said I wanted you to wash every part of yourself?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That includes giving yourself a thorough enema. Do you know how to do that?”

He hesitated a moment then came with a firm, “Yes, Mistress.”

“You’ll find the kit in the bathroom.”

“Why do you want me to have an enema, Mistress?” he asked, his mouth parting company for a moment from his brain. You idiot, why do you think she does? He immediately knew the answer.

“Because I’m going to fuck you in the ass.” She continued to look him dead in the eye, her gaze betraying no feeling at all. “Have you ever been fucked in the ass before, Peter?”

“No, Mistress,” he replied. Peter was, had always been, one hundred percent heterosexual.

“That’s going to change,” she said. “I’m going to pop your cherry and do you know what?”

“What, Mistress?”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, is there?”

“No, Mistress,” he said, feeling a thrill of fear deep inside him.

“You’re going to become Mistress Claudia’s bitch, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” So, that was her name, he thought, Claudia.

“You want that, don’t you,” she said continuing to look into his eyes, her gaze penetrating through him now like a laser beam. “You want to be Mistress Claudia’s bitch.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said quietly. What else was he supposed to say?

He could feel sweat gathering at his brow and his heart was beginning to beat like a drum but he strove to betray nothing of the fear that gripped him.

Of course he could do nothing to hide the excitement that gripped him. His cock was now hugely erect.

“Get on with it then,” Claudia said briskly. “Make yourself ready for me.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied and hurried in the direction of the bathroom.

Claudia sat in silence for a moment and then emitted a dry laugh. Everything was going exactly according to plan. She then got up and strode towards the big open cabinet to pick out a strap-on dildo and a lubricant suitable for buggery.

Peter padded nervously into the bathroom where he turned on the shower, filling the room with humid warmth.  The heat slid over him and everything around him turned to fog. When he came out of that fog, he knew what was going to happen. She’d made it very clear indeed. He was going to become Mistress Claudia’s bitch.