Stewardess


Rob Graham


Copyright © 2012 Rob Graham of Twisted Rose Publishing

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The walk down the boarding tunnel is cold but not long. Once aboard the 747 for London I head for my seat. It’s in economy although I could afford better. Hell, I could afford to charter a plane. But it’s my money I’m spending and I prefer not to do that unnecessarily.
A stewardess greets me as I pass their station. The young woman is strikingly beautiful, beautiful enough to make me scan her from foot to head. Her feet are dainty, shod in black low heels. She has gorgeous legs, nicely complimented by the dark hose she wears. Narrow hips and waist make her breasts seem a little larger and her shoulders a touch wider than they actually are. The lovely woman’s hands are as elegant as her feet. But it’s her face that is her most attractive feature. Heart shaped with fair skin and chestnut hair curling to her shoulders makes it quite striking. The full lips are set in a smile that strikes me as false. Her eyes are wide and the most luscious shade of a blue almost purple in color.
I can’t help but shiver with pleasure as I look into those striking irises.
The most interesting conflict shows in her body language at my inspection. Her eyes crinkle at the corners and warmth fills them. But her shoulders draw back and her spine stiffens. After a moment a wholly professional, somewhat cold expression hardens her face.
I don’t let my curiosity at that response show. I simply nod back in greeting and continue on my way.
I’ve got a window just in front of the wing. My carry-ons, equipment bag and clothing, go into the overhead bin. Then I sit myself down and do up my seatbelt. For the next twenty minutes I watch the activity on the tarmac.
My seat mate arrives five minutes after I do. I take an immediate dislike to the man. He has a sour look on his face and his eyes glare with belligerence at me as he sits down.
The plane is soon closed up, the pilots start the engines and we’re pushed away from the terminal. It’s not a busy day so we’re in the air and on our way to London within fifteen minutes.
I spend most of my time looking out the window. The constant but always changing view offers me a Zen calm. I’m going to be busy in the city where I have a branch office and any break from the stress of running my own company is a good thing.
The lovely lady who greeted me is my server. Her contradictory body language is gone, only that distant professionalism remains. I order tea, which is appropriate for the mood I’m in. I make sure to thank her and tip well. I’d done similar jobs when I was younger and know how much courtesy and generosity are appreciated.
Our hands brush for an instant as I pay for my drink. When we touch an energy sparks between us. I smile at the pleasant sensation of it. The stewardess’s demeanor cracks ever so slightly and the corners of her mouth lift, just a little. Her richly shaded eyes glitter for a moment before she pulls away.
My seat mate, on the other hand, is anything but calm. He orders a drink and downs it far too quickly. His only acknowledgment of her service is a contemptuous grunt and he insists on getting every penny of change back from her. “Can you believe that lazy bitch?” he mutters when she walks away.
I manage to keep from answering him with a quick punch in the mouth. Others nearby snort or gasp as they react to his rude remark.
That’s just the start of it. A steady drizzle of invective comes from him. He keeps ringing for alcohol and, again, is upset that it doesn’t magically appear in front of him. As he consumes his drinks, his speech becomes louder and more slurred.
I ignore him although I watch out of the corner of my eye when he’s served. He seems the sort who is going to take his frustrations—and he has a lot of them—out on others. The lady with the violet eyes maintains her professional cool but I can see the strain of dealing with this person in the tightness of her mouth and shoulders.
The abusive jerk rings for yet another drink. The stewardess comes down the aisle and I can see she’s frightened. It’s easy to guess why.
My supposition is correct. “I’m sorry, sir. But the airline’s rules don’t allow me to continue serving you any more drinks.”
“Cunt!” her customer snarls. His right hand snaps out, grabs her wrist and he yanks her towards him. His left hand forms a fist and he draws it back to punch her.
I reach out to wrap my fingers around his elbow and wrist. My right thumb digs into a pressure point to straighten his arm. My left hand bends his wrist and I push him into the aisle, face down. He lets go of the stewardess, tries to flail, but I keep the pressure on his arm and place a foot between his shoulder blades. He’s helpless now.
If I thought he was loud and obnoxious before, I hadn’t seen anything yet. The jerk literally howls with frustration. He promises me a painful death as he thrashes about with his free arm and legs.
Around me the other passengers are starting to panic. People get out of their seats, head away from us. “Return to your seats, please,” I say in a loud, firm voice. “Everything is under control.” I let a little of my sexuality seep into my voice. I know how to give a command that will be obeyed.
They comply quickly.
The stewardess staggers back, her face white with fear and shock. She stops a couple of steps away and wrings her hands.
“Miss?” I say to her. “If you could, go into the bin above me and get down the black cloth sports bag. The name on the tag reads, ‘Thomas Walker.’”
She nods tightly and does as she’s told.
“Get the cuffs,” I tell her then.
She blinks at me and opens my bag. Her eyes go wide at the sight of my equipment stacked inside it. She draws in a small gasp and shivers a little.
“Don’t keep me waiting.”
The chestnut haired woman nods and draws out a pair of cuffs. They are the typical black, studded leather I prefer for my bondage apparatus.
I take them from her and snap one around my prisoner’s wrist. A moment later his arms are cuffed together.
My former seat mate actually starts to foam at that indignity. His fury is such that he can’t even form words.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “There’s a ball gag in there,” I tell the young lady. “Could you fetch it please?”
She does, and can’t seem to avert her eyes from it. She shivers again while she licks her lips.
Without hesitation I shove the ball in the loon’s mouth and lock the gag around his head, rather tightly. His howls are reduced to muffled whines.
Now he starts to kick madly. They’re unaimed. All he wants to do is damage something or someone.
I put a stop to that by sitting on him. The only thing he can kick in this position is the floor. “Another set of cuffs and a D-ring, please,” I tell the stewardess.
“Yes, sir,” she replies.
There’s something in her voice, a soft tone that I’ve heard before. Something other than courtesy tremors in the ‘sir’.
It only takes me a moment to grab the fool’s feet and cuff them together. Then I use the D-ring to attach both sets of cuffs together. He’s now trussed up like a piece of luggage.
A member of the cabin crew approaches; a big man who keeps in shape. “Is there a problem here?” he inquires.
“Not any more,” I reply. I nod at the still pale stewardess. “The man on the floor tried to assault this young lady.”
The big man frowns while a quiet growl sounds from him. “If you could, sir. Help me take him to the lounge. We can set him in a corner. I’ll have the pilot radio ahead and the police can meet us in Heathrow.”
I nod. He picks the drunk up by the shoulders and I take the knees. As we go, laughter starts to fill the cabin. I have to smile also. Our prisoner does look silly bound up the way he is.
He’s not foaming now. Instead, tears run down his face and his chest heaves with sobs. Like all bullies he wasn’t prepared for the day he was defeated.
I’m not going to waste any pity on him.
We drop the man in the lounge, out of people’s way. The flight engineer apologizes and tells the bartender to give me what ever I want; it’s on the airline. I settle for tea again. Battling an adrenaline surge with alcohol isn’t smart in my opinion.
A few minutes after I take a spot on a couch the stewardess comes up the stairs. She’s still rather white and her hands shake. “Are you all right, Iris?” the bartender asks.
“There was an incident in my section. One of my passengers tried to assault me.”
The bartender looks at the jerk weeping in the corner. He looks angry enough to walk over and kick the trussed man in the ribs. That emotion is swallowed down and instead he asks the young woman, “Need something?”
“Scotch, straight.”
After she gets her drink she looks around the lounge. When she sees me she trembles for a moment before she puts her professional face back on.
I motion her to join me. The gorgeous lady swallows, and does as she’s directed.
With graceful steps she walks towards me and sits down. “Are you all right, Mr. Walker?”
“I was about to ask you the same question. I’m fine.”
She smiles, just a touch, grateful for my concern. “A little shaken. I had no idea he’d do something like that.” Her smile gets a little wider. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
“The man’s an incompetent bully,” I snort. For a moment I consider, take into account the clues I’ve noted of her personality. “Would you let me buy you dinner? To thank you for your help?”
She hesitates for a moment and again that cold takes over her features.
“I insist.” I make my voice quite firm. How she reacts will tell me much.
Her shoulders lose their stiffness. A slackness comes over her features and she casts her eyes down. “Yes, sir.” Her voice is meek.
That’s what I thought.
There’s one last thing I have to learn. “What’s your name, lovely lady?”
She brings her eyes up, pleasure sparkles in them. “I’m Iris, Iris Thomson.”
“How appropriate.”
Her smile is so big that cute dimples form on her cheeks. But, it only lasts a moment. Then pain, almost despair, crosses her face before she replaces her professional mien.
The next hour of the flight we spend in idle conversation. It’s quickly apparent to me Iris is a most intelligent young woman; well educated and read. Our subjects range from current events to the history of art. The tension both of us feel fades as we talk. She never quite loosens up though.
Despite that I find myself warming up to Iris. It’s not just her rather exotic beauty that attracts me. Nor is it that facet of her persona that speaks to my sexuality. There’s something about her that slips in deep and makes my heart twinge with joy.
When we land at Heathrow the police come on board as soon as the gate opens. A pair of them come up to the lounge, remove my restraints and cuff him again. One of them gives my equipment a professional glance and nods to me with satisfaction as he hands my equipment back.
A pair of detectives arrive just as the jerk is taken down the stairs. It takes only a few minutes for Iris and I to give our statements. The detectives tell us they’ll get us through customs so we leave the lounge. Iris stops in her station to pick up her overnight bag while I go to my seat to replace my equipment in my carry-on. She waits for me and then we leave the plane.
With the police helping us through customs and the airline having someone get my suitcase Iris and I are in a cab within twenty minutes.
As the cab starts up I turn to Iris and say, “I think you should call your roommate. Tell her where you are and who you’re with. I’m sure she’ll worry if she doesn’t hear from you.”
Iris’s demeanor softens at that statement. It helps her trust me. She knows I’m concerned for her safety and comfort. “Thank you, sir.”
I catch the meaning of the ‘sir’, and I don’t believe she’s aware of what she told me with that word.
Shortly we pull up in front of my hotel. It’s one of the better ones in London. I’ll be here for a few days and although I don’t mind traveling economy I see no need to live that way. “Wait here,” I tell my companion, “I’ll check in, drop off my luggage and then it’s dinner time.”
“Thank you, sir,” she tells me once more. I watch as she takes one of the comfortable stuffed chairs in the lobby and pulls a book from her bag. My eyebrows rise as my interest is piqued. The book is an old favorite of mine, and hers judging from the use it has seen.
I’m quickly checked in as I’m a fairly frequent customer here. The bellman chats quietly with me in the elevator and I make sure I tip him well when we arrive at my room. It’s just a few minutes to get my clothes put away and then I return to the lobby.
Iris gives me a tiny smile as I exit the elevator. She closes her book, puts it away, then stands and walks toward me.
I can’t take my eyes from her as we approach each other. She’s so graceful, so beautiful. There’s a feeling in my chest. Not strong, but it makes breathing just a tot difficult. It doesn’t bother me though. I find the sensation…joyful.
“This way,” I tell her as I take her arm. “The restaurant here is excellent.”
She tightens for a moment, and then relaxes, mostly. There’s still tension in her as I escort into the dining area. The maitre d’ smiles widely at the sight of me. “Good evening, Mr. Walker.” His gaze goes to Iris and a little approval colors his professional expression. “May I store your bag, miss?” the dignified man asks my dinner partner and flags a busboy to take her luggage when she agrees. That done, he takes two menus from under his podium and leads us to a table in an intimate nook near the back. We peruse our menus, order wine. I have the cottage pie. Iris orders a stir fry.
“I noticed your book,” I tell her as the waiter walks away. “I’ve worn out several copies.”
Iris’s dimples appear once more. “I can understand that. It’s such an amusing book. There’s a lot of insight into society. The author really knows the corporate world.”
“That’s why I read it so often. My own company is a success because of his observations.”
That statement puzzles her. “You don’t strike me as a businessman.”
“Why?”
Her eyes sharpen as she considers my question. “You don’t seem quite as…distant…as a lot of the business people I’ve encountered. You seem more down to earth than most of them.”
“Ah. I suspect that’s because many of those people you’ve encountered are employees rather than owners. A lot of them get confused.”
Iris looks over my shoulder and frowns a little. “I think I see,” she says after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Good,” is my remark. Again that odd feeling shivers in my chest. Her remark is one I like a lot. I like people who think.
I mention another book in the same genre that I’m fond of. She’s never heard of it and she asks me about it.
Our conversation goes on through dinner. Again, Iris displays that she is quite educated and very intelligent. I find myself listening to her as much as I speak, and that attraction that has been growing in me gets stronger with each minute.
When our meal is done and we’re finishing with some coffee I decide to satisfy my curiosity about something. “May I ask you a personal question, Iris?”
For a moment she looks uncomfortable before she replaces it with the rather cool bearing she’s been showing me. “I can’t guarantee I’ll answer it.”
“I understand. If I’m too forward there’s no need to reply.”
“So, what do you want to know?”
“Well, first I’m curious about how you react when I compliment you. You are a very beautiful woman. I don’t believe you’re very comfortable with that.”
Iris doesn’t reply at once. Instead a little shimmer of tears shows in her eyes and her lower lip trembles.
I pick up my napkin, reach across the table and dry her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pick at such a sensitive spot.”
She gives her head a little shake. “No,” she tells me, “I’m okay.” The dark haired lady tightens her jaw and she focuses her gorgeous eyes on me. “My looks have caused me a lot of problems.”
I lean back to give her a little space. Then I wait. I’ll listen if she talks.
Her gaze settles on the table. For over a minute she just stares. Little changes of expression; a thinning of her lips, creases on her forehead; tell me she’s struggling with herself.
My heart aches watching her struggle. I almost tell her not to answer my question. But I don’t. I want to know who she is and why.
Finally she looks up at me once more. “People only see the way I look. They don’t take me seriously. In university the men were less interested in me as a person and more interested in cutting a notch on their bedpost. Most women were jealous. If I was around their boyfriends would be tripping over their tongues. One of my professors tried to blackmail me into his bed. As if.” The last sentence is snorted. “I got him fired.”
“Good for you!” I tell her with a grin. I may have my suspicions about her sexuality but she’s no doormat, and I adore strong women.
A smile of triumph reveals her dimples for a moment. That disappears behind grimness again. “It was the same in the working world. If I got a job it was because of the way I look. I got to give press conferences and tours. The men of course, even a lot of the married ones, set their sights on me. I hated it.”
“So why did you take the job you have now?”
Iris shrugs a little. “I thought I might as well give into the big fact of my life. Stewardesses are supposed to be beautiful. I wanted to travel as well. It seemed a good idea and I’ve found a lot of the aircrew are very professional. On top of that it’s understood by most passengers we’re off limits. So I’ve been pretty happy with my decision.” The look of satisfaction on her face tells me that’s true.
“You’ve never been tempted to use your beauty as a weapon?” I ask.
“Tempted? Yeah. But there’s a word for women who do that and I’m not that kind of person.”
“I’ve fired a few women like that. If their only competence is seduction I’ve no use for them.” We grin at each other.
“Another question, if I may? Again, if you don’t want to answer you don’t have to.”
This time she only hesitates for a moment. “Go ahead.”
I hesitate as well. I might be digging too deep. I find I fear chasing her off. “What are your feelings about sex?”
A sigh of unhappiness whistles through her nose. “I’ve usually found it less than satisfying. In university there were a couple of men who appeared more interested in me than my looks. They were just better at hiding their plans than most, and more patient. But once they had me they were done. They weren’t making love to me, they were ‘fucking that gorgeous bitch from my statistics class.’” A little snarl curls her mouth. “I overheard one of them say that to his drinking buddies.”
I roll my eyes. My gender’s behavior is sometimes so dishonorable.
“There was one man I was interested in at my last job,” my dinner companion goes on, “a customer representative. He did a very good job of hiding that he was married. I didn’t find out until his wife confronted us outside the apartment we used. I thought it was his. But it was theirs.”
I mop up a fresh set of tears. It hurts to see how she was treated. “I’m sorry you’ve encountered so many assholes, Iris. My gender are often selfish bastards.”
She smiles weakly and nods. “You don’t seem that way, Thomas.”
“Tom, please. We’re getting to be friends.”
Iris smiles again, with greater strength this time. Her face forms a frown of consideration then. “There’s another thing.”
“Oh?”
“I could never seem to…let go. I always held on tight to my feelings. I always felt I needed to control my emotions.”
I chuckle and Iris frowns at me. “I believe I know why that is.”
That declaration causes her eyebrows to rise in surprise and a little trepidation tightens her lips. I suspect she knows what is missing but isn’t comfortable with what she really wants.
“I saw how you reacted when you opened my equipment bag.”
For the first time Iris blushes. “I’d never,” she stammers, “never actually seen things like that before.”
“But you did find them exciting, didn’t you?”
Iris swallows in nervousness. “I did. I’m not sure if I should though. It’s—it’s rather perverted, those wants.” Her face implores me for my opinion. “Isn’t it?”
I think that look is adorable; sweet and needy. It makes me smile and yanks on my heart. “That,” I reply, “is entirely a matter of perspective. Kinky perhaps, but not wrong.”
“Isn’t it a sign of weakness? Of losing control?” the woman with the amethyst eyes inquires.
“Not at all. In order to submit a person must be strong. It’s a matter of trust and it requires strength to trust that much. Furthermore, a submissive doesn’t lose control. They hand it to someone they can depend on. Someone who can lead and guide them. Someone who, as you said, can allow them to ‘let go.’”
She chews her lower lip as she thinks about that piece of information.
“May I make an observation, beautiful lady?”
She nods although uncertainty pinches her face.
“As far as the problems your appearance has caused, that’s simply a matter of inexperience and uncertainty. I made many mistakes in love and life when I was your age. You learn from them but you don’t let them undermine your confidence. Once you have learned more about men you’ll be able to spot the fakes. You’ll be able to make your way with clear eyes.”
Iris’s expression lightens. It has done her good hearing that other people understand her predicament.
“There’s another thing.”
“That is?”
“A lot of my problems were caused by me not knowing or understanding my sexuality. I was uncomfortable with it, just like you. Once I did become comfortable the only struggles were outside myself. It made my life much easier.” I stare at her for a second, consider my thoughts. “I’d like to make a suggestion.”
The lovely woman across the table goes taut, her face shows much discomfort. But she nods agreement.
Again, for an instant, I hesitate. I’ll be asking a lot of her and it may be too soon to request such a thing. But, I want Iris, I realize then.
“Turn yourself over to me for tonight. I’ll teach you to be comfortable with yourself.” I let enough of my nature in to make that statement just a little less than an order.
She swallows.
“You’ll be safe. At any time you want to stop just say the word ‘red’. I’ll stop and you can go on your way. I promise you’ll come to no harm. I’m always careful with the women I play with.”
A shiver runs through her. Her eyes go out of focus and her mouth goes a little slack. Iris stares at me for a long second, and nods agreement.
I give her a smile back. It must be shaped by my feelings for the young lady across from me swallows again. Her shoulders loosen though, and her mouth parts a little as her breath comes faster.
The waiter comes with the cheque and I sign it. As always I leave a good tip. I rise to my feet and extend my hand. Iris takes it. There’s the smallest tremble in her digits. Her breath speeds up ever so little.
We pick up her bag and I lead her to the elevator. When the doors close I start to lay down the law. “Once we’re in my room you are at my command. When I give you an order, you will obey it without question.”
Iris nods. The gesture is shaky. Despite her unease excitement starts to glitter in her eyes.
My mouth tightens with displeasure. “You will acknowledge my orders verbally and respectfully.” It seems a bit harder than usual to be stern. This is more than the usual playtime.
She pales a little. “Yes, Sir.”
The elevator doors open and we proceed down the hall. “My safe words are ‘orange’ and ‘red’, just like the traffic lights. ‘Orange’ is when you’re being pushed too hard. I’ll slow down, perhaps ask some questions or reassure you in another manner. ‘Red’ means we are finished for the night.”
“I understand, Sir. Thank you.”
“I look after my subs,” I tell her as I acknowledge her courtesy. The words come from her so easily, I have no doubt as to her true sexual nature.
“It’s unlikely I’ll use a gag tonight. I enjoy hearing the sounds a woman makes when I’m playing with her. If you are gagged and you give me the ‘okay’ sign I’ll slow down. The ‘peace’ sign ends the scene.”
“I understand, Sir.” Her breath is softly audible now and she grips my arm tightly.
We arrive at my door and I unlock it. “Are you ready?” Anticipation twists my gut as I ask that question.
The dark tressed woman hesitates for only a second. “I am, Sir.”
“Then let us begin.” I open the door and motion her inside.
The instant we’re in my room I take my soon-to-be sub’s luggage from her, place it to one side and motion my playmate to the open area at the foot of the bed. Iris’s knees shake as she obeys.
“Face me,” I order then.
Iris obeys at once with another, “Yes, Sir.” Her fingers are interlaced and she twists them a little.
“Hands at your side!”
My new sub flinches, and does as she’s told.
I walk around her, inspecting her as I go. My cock starts to harden as I do. On the plane and at dinner, Iris had been a work of art, beautiful but only a reflection of reality. Now, she is a woman, a sub, and one I will be practicing my craft on this evening. Plus a little bit more.
When I return to my spot in front of her I smile at her. Iris’s reaction is to reflect that smile, and to quiver all over. Her eyes dart downwards and then widen at the sight of my hard on where it presses against my slacks. The tip of her tongue darts out for a second.
“Take your jacket off.” My voice is firm. I’ll brook no disagreement.
I get none. Iris plucks her buttons lose, rolls her shoulders and the jacket falls to the floor without a sound.
A quiet growl rumbles in my throat. Her garment had hidden her lovely shape well. The blouse, being a thinner material, clings to her body revealing much more of her beauty. Most interesting is her bra shows through the fabric as it’s a black that contrasts strongly with the white of her shirt.
“Your blouse now,” I order.
Her cheeks color. But her hands get to work. They go down the front row of buttons, undo her cuffs and her blouse joins her jacket.
“My, my!” I remark as her upper body is revealed. Her undergarment is black lace, translucent enough that much of her fair skin and pink nipples show. Those nipples poke at the lace, already hard with excitement.
The sight of my lovely lady somewhat dishabille touches that emotion she raises in me, causes it to ripple through me. But we’ve more to do before I savor the taste of tender nubbins.
I direct her to take off her skirt and slip, which Iris does without demur. The color in her cheeks deepens though. Her breath is beginning to degenerate into a pant.
The removal of her lower garments reveals much to me. She’s not wearing nylons. Rather she has a garter belt holding up stockings. Iris’s panties match her bra, and a damp patch shows at the crotch. My new sub is enjoying herself despite the hesitancy that thins her lips.
I do another inspection of my new play toy, using my hands as well as my eyes this time. Iris’s skin is as wonderful to touch as it is to look at. She’s warm under my fingers, with a little slickness of sweat. My palms rove over her stomach, across her lovely ass and back, then give her firm tits a squeeze. I fit my hard on against her ass and sigh in her ear.
I’ve done such things many times before but this time seems more…whole. It’s so natural, so perfect, this sweet woman in my arms.
At that last action, her eyes flutter, her mouth drops and a quiet groan seeps out. Iris’s legs weaken and that slackness makes her lean into my touch.
“Stand straight!” I order, making sure there’s a bit of bite in my voice. Surprisingly, it’s easy this time. I know I haven’t misread her, and that she’ll take everything I give to her and love it.
She does so without hesitation. That muted groan comes from her again.
I smile at that. Her reaction shows how much she adores being ordered.
I return to my position in front of her and give another command. “The bra now.”
My lovely sub doesn’t hesitate despite the nervous tremble in her hands. She reaches behind to release the catch on her undergarment. Then her hands take the straps, she pulls them away from her skin and moves them to the edge of her shoulders.
Iris surprises me then. Rather than take her sexy bra off, her hands return to her sides. She makes her shoulders roll and the lacy garment simply falls from her, bringing her beautiful breasts out in the open. There’s a tiny smile on her lips and an amused gleam shows in her lavender eyes.
At that my eyes sharpen, I let out a pleased purr. Not just for the beauty revealed, but for the way she revealed it. Iris had the wit, even as excited as she is, to tease me. I adore a sub who teases. Such actions fire me to take them to new heights. That fire also heats that new emotion she creates in me.
“Panties now.”
Her eyes widen. Iris swallows. She knows when those are removed she will have gone past a line she hasn’t crossed before. Once those are gone, she knows she’s committed to whatever else I have in mind.
I wait. This time I’ll allow her to hesitate. It’s Iris's first time as a submissive and I must be careful not to push too hard.
The wait is much shorter than I expected, and Iris acts with alacrity once she decides to obey. It’s only seconds before she stands before me naked save for garters, stockings and shoes. She stands there with her panties bunched in her right hand. Her namesake shaded eyes stare at me. They tell me that she needs something.
I know what it is and I give it to her. “Well done.”
Iris face lights up at that praise. My heart lights up at that expression.
“Drop those,” I tell her. “You won’t be needing them for a while.”
Of course, she does as she’s ordered.
I do another inspection tour. Again, I use my hands as well as my eyes. My little sub is a wonder to touch. My fingers run over her ass, then delve between her cheeks to tease the little rose there.
Iris gasps at that intimate, wicked touch.
My palms run down her flanks, following the shape of her torso, waist and hips. Her muscles tremble and twitch with my playing.
I reach in front to grasp her firm breasts, squeeze them possessively.
My sweet playmate groans a rich sound of pleasure.
My right hand drifts down her stomach, over her garter belt and through her closely trimmed hair to pet her cunt. I find Iris already swollen with want and excitement, dewy with the hot fluids her growing lust is forcing from her. I can’t help myself. I mold myself to her back, pull her tight and knead her tit, stroke her pussy harder. The feel of my playmate’s body, the intensity of her reaction makes my erection rock hard. I’ve never wanted a woman as badly as I want Iris. 
“Oh, Christ,” she murmurs in a tight, high voice. I feel her tighten in my embrace. A shiver runs through her whole body.
“No you don’t!” I order as I let her go. “Under no circumstances do you come unless I give permission.”
For a moment she doesn’t respond, just quivers, poised at the edge of the void. Her fists are clenched tight. I see her legs shake with the pulsing ecstasy filling her body. Then she relaxes, ever so slightly. Her hands loosen and she replies, “Yes Sir,” with a lustful and somewhat frustrated tremor.
“Good girl.” She deserves praise for obeying me despite the way I pushed her so close to orgasm. The way she travelled to the edge so quickly pleases me. A woman as passionate and compliant as Iris gives me so many buttons to push as I play with them, and I so want to play with them. I want to give Iris an experience she won’t forget. One she’ll seek out again and again.
First things first, I remind myself then.
I take Iris’s elbow and lead her to the foot of the bed. Said bed is perfect for practicing my art. The mattress is comfortable and rather firm. The quilt atop it is soft. There are tall posts at each corner. The foot board has a gentle curve in it so the centre is a couple of inches above the mattress. I couldn’t design better for my purposes if I tried.
When we get to our destination I press Iris face first to it, close to the foot board. “Bend over the bed,” I tell her. “Spread your arms and legs as far as you can.”
My play toy looks down at the mattress. I can hear her swallow. Then she obeys with an ease, indeed an eagerness, that shows me just how deep her submission runs.
Yet again my lust spikes at her actions. That lust is colored with that other emotion. The new, sweet feeling that goes far beyond the art I’m practicing here.
“Don’t move a muscle,” is my order as I head to my equipment bag. I pick it up, move it close to the bed and open it. Since the contents are neatly laid out it takes just a few seconds to pull out what I need.
First out is the four lengths of chain I’ve cut for this bed as I’ve used it before. They are perfect for my purpose. The cuffs, made of leather and fur-lined follow. I lay all this out in the order I’ll use them.
Snatching up a piece of chain I tie it to one leg of the bed. Then the other foot has a chain attached and I finish off by tying the remaining links to the spots where the posts meet the mattress. Iris shivers each time my movements cause the chains to clatter. At one moment she sounds a quiet groan, a familiar sound I’ve heard from subs many times before. It tells me how much they anticipate what is to come.
I kneel, grab a cuff and reaching out, I wrap it around Iris’s left ankle.
She gasps as I do. Her whole body goes tight. She relaxes a moment later with a soft sigh.
Yet another sign, I think. A cuff doesn’t represent bondage to a sub, but freedom. Freedom to feel, freedom to enjoy, freedom from shame. The cuffs, and the person who cuffed her are now responsible for her pleasure. Now Iris need only experience the joy of submission.
I pick up the chain nearest her cuff and attach it. Again the tautening and loosening. As each of her limbs is chained, Iris shows through her body language how she is falling into the space where she will be happiest.
When I’m finished restraining her I draw away to stare at the young woman spread out before me. I’ve never been able to determine what it is about the sight of a sub bound and ready for play that I find so arousing. But it is arousing. Something about it reaches into a deep, dark part of my soul, makes it quiver and rise in me, leads me into a space that is the perfect complement to the women I play with.
That arousal heats up that other emotion that grows with each minute I spend with Iris. It seems to stiffen the bond I’m building with my new sub like metal in a forge. 
Enough philosophizing. It’s playtime! With that thought, I begin to remove my own clothes. Iris twists her head, trying to watch me undress.
With a chuckle I tell her, “Behave yourself. Face forward. You’ll see me when I want you to see me and no sooner.”
She obeys, of course. Although a whine of frustration emerges from her.
“Enough of that!” is my response. “You are here for my pleasure, not yours.” The way her ass cheeks tighten displays to me the lust my plaything feels at being used the way I’m promising.
I walk over to the bed, a step away from Iris and run my middle finger down her spine.
“Jesus!” she peeps as her head snaps up. Her entire body shivers at my touch. I smile widely. How I adore a woman as responsive as Iris.
My other hand joins the sweet sensation of touching Iris’s skin. My sub’s face falls to the bed and that rich groan I love to hear vibrates in the air.
Downwards I go, stroking, playing, pushing sharp, sweet joy into the young woman on the bed. Her breath begins to grow quick and shallow. Sweat starts to dew on her skin. Iris’s muscles grow hard under my palms as she fights against the emotions swamping her mind.
There’s something special about the sensation of my lovely lady’s skin. It’s almost electric, as if sparks arc from her creating a bridge between the two of us. Across this bridge flow little pieces of our soul.
It takes a few minutes but finally I come to her sweet ass. My fingers grasp those firm muscles, dig into them. It’s one of my favorite pieces of the female anatomy and I always enjoy the feel of it.
Iris pushes herself at me when I do this. It’s an automatic action. Her soul needs my touch and her greed for it shows in her behavior.
I let go of her cheeks to run one finger over to her crack. My digit then runs down it, over the little pucker there.
My new sub squeaks in delight at my touch. For a moment she wiggles, chasing the tip of my finger, wanting more than just a touch. Iris pulls away then, gasping in shock. It seems she’s never been played with there and her reaction is not an entirely pleasant surprise.
“Good little slut,” I tell her. “You should want your Master’s touch, no matter where he touches you.”
The bound woman stutters for a moment. Both uncertainty and passion shiver in her voice. But she is a submissive so the, “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” is not long in coming.
It’s time to get serious. With that thought I lean over and reach into my equipment bag. My favorite flogger is on top. I pull it out and the long, wide strips of leather make a very soft hiss as they brush against the nylon of the bag.
A short gasp from the bed tells me that Iris heard that sound. She knows what is about to happen and greets it with delight and trepidation.
I step up to my sub and gently lay the flogger on her left shoulder. My dark haired plaything sounds a quiet shriek. The surprise of the soft leather affects her as if I had smacked it hard against her pale flesh.
That yelp turns into a groan as I run the tails down her back. Iris quivers, her muscles tighten. The sensual feel of leather running over her skin pushes sweet pleasure into her mind, her body. The slight increase in her breathing demonstrates that her control is starting to slip. For the first time she need not worry about what she is doing. Iris can be what she is; a sweet, sexy sub.
I draw the flogger over her flank until gravity pulls it over her ass cheek. A slight move to the right, I lay the tails against her now dewy pussy and I pull them upward. The leather runs lightly over Iris’s sensitive lower lips.
“Omigod!” my little toy squeaks. Her head snaps up and she shivers from head to toe.
The flogger trails up her spine now. Iris pulls at her cuffs, her muscles jerk as the sensual pleasure I’m feeding her twitches along her nerves.
Her right side is treated to my playing leather over her skin. All the signs of Iris’s sexuality increase; the shivers, the moans, the beads of sweat. A fierce grin forms on my face. How I adore reducing a lady like the stewardess bound to the bed to the most basic, the most intense wants and needs.
As the flogger falls off her buttock I twist my wrist with a quick motion. The tails whistle through the air to land on Iris’s right shoulder. The ‘smack!’ of leather against flesh sounds through the room.
My dear sub makes a strangled noise somewhere between a squeal and a groan. The fervid sound contains surprise, pain, and joy. I’ve judged my plaything correctly. She is most definitely a submissive, and a passionate one at that.
There’s no gentleness now. My hand swings the flogger around and around. I guide each blow so it lands on a different spot, slowly moving downward. The wide tails do not cut the skin, but Iris’s skin start to color a hot pink under my ministrations.
The sweet lady I’m lashing spits out a continuous babble of noise. She squeaks, gasps, moans and squawks. She pulls hard at the cuffs and it’s difficult to tell if she’s trying to avoid my blows or seek them out. The sweat begins to run along her skin.
My cock grows even harder at the sounds and actions of the beautiful woman I’m lashing. It’s the strongest aphrodisiac for me. To have a woman in my power, helpless and needy, brings out the Master in me.
Also brought to the fore is that bond I’m feeling. Each stroke I make, each mark raised, confirms in my mind that Iris is mine.
Finally I come to her ass and my strikes land a little harder. Such firm buttocks can take it. Again and again the tails land on those smooth mounds. Once more my sub’s flesh colors, a hotter pink in response to my more forceful blows.
Iris barks a sharp sound at each whack. There is pain there, and shame. But each time a slightly larger amount of passion seeps in. The woman bound before me loves discipline, the sweet, searing sensation of leather smacking hard against her flesh.
That’s enough, I finally decide. I take a moment, as I always do in these situations, to admire my handiwork.
The back and buttocks of the lovely lady bound in front of me are just the shade of pink I like. No damage has been done, but blood flows into her flesh to heat it up just so. I reach between her legs and run two fingers up her labia. Those fingers come away wet; a sure sign of how much Iris is enjoying being a plaything.
Said plaything gurgles a noise, the muscles in her legs and ass start to quiver.
“No!” I order without hesitation. “You may only come on my command!”
“Sorry, Sir,” she peeps in response. Her fists clench and her body stills, although a tiny trickle of clear fluid runs down one thigh and soaks into the welt of one stocking.
“That’s good, my slave.” I make sure to compliment my subs often. Praise can accomplish as much as discipline, and it adds a sweet contrast to the pain.
My submissive stewardess rolls her head like a cat being petted. Her, “Thank you, Sir,” is woozy with lust and the ache of her body, but it’s also full of gratitude.
There is more in her words. A deeper emotion that reflects what I feel. Iris knows she is mine and she adores that idea.
I place my flogger back in my equipment bag and pull out my next implement. Another flogger of slightly different make. This one’s working end consists of a myriad of thin rubber strings. The sensation it imparts is also different from my favorite piece of equipment, and I do love changing up the sensations my subs receive.
Once again I play the flogger over my sub’s back, ass and damp pussy. Iris clenches, gasps and shudders as I do.
That wicked smile grows on my features. The stewardess bound to my bed is something special. Beautiful, passionate and so, so needy. I’m drawing out what she is, what she’s always wanted to be; a submissive slut driven mad with lust and pain.
My hand swings the flogger through the air to start another round of lashing. The sound made is as much a thump as smack. The sensation it imparts is spread over a slightly smaller area, so the ache is driven a little deeper into the flesh.
Iris jerks herself forward with each beat, then pulls back. The action makes her look like a greedy slut meeting each thrust of a lover’s hips, my hips. Each time she makes a short, sharp noise that adds to the illusion.
God! I can’t wait to fuck her! That thought surprises me. It’s been a very long time since I wanted a woman this badly.
But no, not yet. Not until she has discovered all that it means to be my slave will I take her.
I’m working her ass over now. The color in her cheeks deepens to just a little past pink. My sweet toy stops jerking, lays the right side of her head on the bed. A gurgle dribbles out of her, rich with erotic hunger.
I lean a little to look at her face without stopping my work. Iris’s face is slack and her eyes are glazed. All her awareness is focused on her body and the sharp, sweet feeling of the flogger striking her ass.
So, I think, time to change it up. I reverse the direction of my strokes and the rubber strings smack into Iris’s dewy pussy. Once.
“Oh!” gasps the lovely lady.
Twice.
Another “Oh!” longer and thicker.
Three times.
No “Oh!” this time. Instead my slave’s eyes roll back, her body quivers and a hoarse groan emerges from her slack mouth.
I cease my playing and wait. Lets see how well she remembers her orders.
Iris goes rock still and her eyes close. For several long seconds she does nothing, not even breathe. Then she releases the air in her lungs with a soft moan. Her eyes open again and she tilts her head a little to look at me.
“Well done,” I tell her as I pet one cheek of her ass. “You remembered your orders.”
The touch of my hand pushes another moan from her. When it ends Iris draws a breath and replies “Thank you, Sir.”
“You’re very welcome.” I’m always polite, even to my subs. Although some don’t agree, I believe that my courtesy provides a contrast that highlights my actions.
I return to my equipment bag and pull out my crop. It’s split bamboo wrapped with woven black nylon. It has just the right mixture of spring and stiffness. A light chuckle vibrates in my throat. Iris is going to love this. And I’m very glad that she’ll love it. It’s now as necessary for me to please Iris as her to please me.
But as always, I build up the tension, and fear, by toying the implement over my stewardess's skin first. I run the almost rough surface of the crop over the fine ass displayed in front of me.
Iris twitches at the feel of it. Her legs cord and her buttocks clench. A barely audible whine seeps from her.
Next, I place the crop between her swollen, ruddy labia. It’s pressed gently against her clit as I draw it upwards, scraping the crop over her sensitive pebble, caressing it with sharp sensation.
My darling playmate presses her face into the duvet. It doesn’t do much to muffle the groan of ecstasy that is squeezed out of her.
I raise the crop and pause for a beat. A beat where I can see Iris set herself, harden her body against what is to come. Then I bring it down on one buttock with a ‘crack!’
Iris’s head snaps up and she starts to shriek in agony. She doesn’t quite start though. There’s a sudden halt to the sound and a quiver runs up her body, causing the chains she’s bound with to rattle. The next moment she relaxes while a gurgle of utter bliss tremors in the room.
That’s what I thought. The first kiss of the crop always strips away any pretense of not being a submissive. Iris is now sunk in that dark, warm place women like her go when a dominant is using them.
The crop smacks into Iris’s lovely ass at a regular, slow beat. Thin red stripes start to show on her fair skin. That sight raises my lust high. A woman with my marks is mine and I revel in that ownership.
The gorgeous woman on the bed makes no more sounds of pain. Instead it’s that sound that interrupted her scream; a thick, quivering noise that contains all the fevered emotion of a submissive in heat.
I change the directions of my strokes now. Each blow lands on both cheeks at the same time. Another set of stripes perpendicular to the first start to form a crosshatching on the smooth spheres of Iris’s ass.
She makes no notice. Nothing in her actions change, except perhaps, the volume of her happy sounds grows a little louder.
That’s enough. I cease my cropping and wait.
As I expected Iris doesn’t notice at once that I’ve stopped. Instead she boils for a while in the steaming cauldron of her body. Again I can see a rill of her lubrication run down a thigh to wet her stocking. A glance at her face shows through her slack mouth and glassy eyes that my slave has no awareness of the world.
My cock jerks at that sight and a little seminal fluid leaks from the tip. The sight of a submissive so far gone reaches to an animal place of my brain. That place that directs me to rut, and at this moment with such a perfect object of desire in front of me, it’s a difficult impulse to ignore. I want to be inside Iris. I want to take her hard, fast, and deep.
I do ignore it though. My beautiful submissive has more to learn, and she has more to do to earn the reward she seeks. Instead I sit on the bed and gently pet Iris’s sweaty back. Partly because I enjoy the feel of her hot, smooth skin under my palms, and partly to keep my sweet plaything anchored in this world. She’d drift away completely if I let her.
The lady in question smiles weakly at my touch. It would take strength she doesn’t possess at the moment to do more.
“Did you enjoy that?” I inquire.
She manages to bring glazed eyes to bear on me and reply, “Yes,” with a fevered moan.
“How do you feel?”
My beautiful sub opens her mouth but before she can say anything her body tremors, her eyelids flutter and a “Gah!” gushes from her. Thinking about how she feels made her recall all that happened, and experience all the emotions caused by my actions to emerge in an instant.
It’s not an orgasm though, far too short for that, so I don’t discipline her. I smile at how fast she learns.
Iris comes back into focus and starts to answer my question. “Oh, God! Sir! That was so fucking good! I wasn’t sure but I love it. So fucking hot! So fucking good! Love it! So good!”
I let her babble for a few moments. I do enjoy listening to a slut chatter about the state I’ve reduced her to, especially the first time.
That pleasure is added to the satisfaction I feel at reducing this lovely lady, my lovely lady, to such a state. Iris’s feelings are now quite important to me.
“What do you want?” I finally interrupt.
Iris looks at my cock. She simpers, desperation shows in her eyes and on her face. “Fuck me, Sir! Please!”
“Why?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I’m your slave, Sir. Your sub slut. Your fuck toy. Take me! Use me!”
I chuckle at how far she’s come. I’m pleased with how she has recognized what she is so quickly. Again the urge to do just what she wants washes over me. Again I ignore it. Iris has to be active in her submission, show through her actions that she is what she claims to be. So I tell her, “Not yet, slave.”
Iris almost weeps in disappointment. She bangs her fists on the duvet in frustration.
“All you’ve been doing so far, Iris, is taking what I give you. If you want my cock in you…”
“I do, Sir!”
I bring the crop in my hand down on her ass, eliciting a sharp “Yipe!” from my slave. “Don’t interrupt!”
“Sorry, Sir!” Iris snivels.
I pick up where I left off. “If you want my cock in you you’re going to have to earn it.”
“I will, Sir! Tell me what to do.”
My reply is to climb onto the bed, kneeling just in front of my new play toy. My rigid cock is inches from her face. A tiny runnel of seminal fluid leaks from the tip telling my sub that I’m nearly as excited as she is.
Iris follows me as I move. Her gaze focuses on my manhood. Her expression is lustful and adoring. I’m the centre of her world now. As she is the centre of mine.
“If you want my cock in your pussy, slut, you’re going to have to take it in your mouth first. I want those sweet lips wrapped around it and your tongue worshipping it.”
For a moment my little thrall stares up at me with shock. Her mouth twitches in consternation. It’s quite apparent cock sucking is an act she doesn’t have pleasant memories of.
I suspected as much from the tale she told in the restaurant. Which is one of the reasons I’m insisting on it. A good blow job is a joy for both participants and I want Iris to learn that. Also, it will deepen her submission, make her aware of her wants, further reduce her to a sheer fucking machine. So…
“Open up your mouth so I can stick my cock in it!” I bark. A flick of the crop emphasizes my order.
Said mouth opens to let out a squeal of pain, and I shove myself into it. My hand wraps in Iris’s dark tresses to start her head moving back and forth, guiding her through a filthy act of fellatio.
She whines as I do this, still unsure of what to do, of whether she likes it.
So I help her out. “Start your tongue moving, slut. That’s it. Feel that hard piece of meat. Feel how much you love it. Feel what a slave, what a whore you are!” All the while I’m pumping her mouth up and down my shaft.
Iris follows my orders of course. Her tongue moves, slides over my skin. On the out stroke she swipes around my head. The sounds she makes start to change. They go from almost distress to greedy joy. She sucks at me hard, the force of it telling me she wants my seed squirting into her mouth, pouring down her throat.
My words change as well. They become an expression of my pleasure, as well as the positive reinforcement a slave performing well deserves. “Damn, slut! You really do love blowing your Master. That’s it.” I pause to hiss. “Good slave.”
Now I wrap my hand in her hair, hold her head still and pump my hips. I fuck her mouth the way I’m going to fucking her pussy. She’s earned it, but I’m a greedy bastard and intend to use her some more. I’ve known many submissives but never before one quite as eager as Iris.
I know the reason for her eagerness goes beyond submission though. For the same reason I am beyond eager to play with her. It’s something we both need. The touch of each other. The ardor for each other. Tonight was to be an amusement for me and an education for her. It’s far more than that now.
The new action causes no change in my sweet slut’s responses. She sucks hard at me, all the while making the sounds of a woman enjoying the fullest passion. Iris trills and moans. Each sound tremors through my cock, up my spine and echoes in my brain bringing me closer to the moment of release.
Just before that moment I pull out. The first time I play with a sub I fill her womb, not her stomach. It is yet another way I show I own her, that she accepts anything I offer.
The sweet, submissive stewardess whines at the loss of my member. She tries to inch forward with her mouth wide, her tongue extended. Those purple irises are full of desperation.
“So,” I remark, “you like what I’m doing to you.”
“Yes!” Iris gasps.
“You like being flogged.”
“Oh God,” the bound woman replies, “yes!” Her whole body shivers once more at the memory of sweet pain.
“The touch of the crop is exciting.”
Again she quivers all over. “Yes!”
“Sucking cock, being fucked in the mouth inflames you.”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
“So what do you want now?”
There isn’t a second’s hesitation. “I need to be fucked, Sir. Fill me up. Take me. Use me. Please!” The final word is a long groan quivering with the most sublime lust.
“That’s a good slut,” I tell her with a smile, “and since you begged so nicely I’ll do just that.”
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you.” Even awash in passion, afloat on a cloud of pain and ardor, Iris shows what a perfect bottom she is.
I roll off the bed and step behind my submissive lover. In order to cool off a bit, to admire yet again the exquisite beauty of my plaything and because I want to, I pause. My hands reach to pet Iris's smooth skin, fondle her ass, Then I run a finger up the hot, wet lips of her cunt. The feel of her so hot and slick with both sweat and natural lubricant is a marvel.
At the touch of me in her most intimate place my sexy stewardess mewls, shivers like an electric current runs through her. She begs yet again. “Please, Sir. Please. I can’t take much more. Need, nee…” That’s all she can get out before another quiver of naked want squeezes her vocal cords silent.
How could I refuse such a request? I bend my knees a little to match my hips’ height to hers, lever my cock to the right position, and slide myself into her in one long, smooth stroke. The slippery, hot feeling of her around my member forces a groan from me.
Iris echoes my groan. She almost gets her courtesy out, “Thank y…” before I start pounding away at her. Just the way I know a slut like her wants.
Now the sounds my sweet bitch makes are perfectly timed to my thrusts. The most adorable whimpers ooze out of her. She says no words but Iris tells me that she’s never known such ecstasy, such joy, such pleasure in her life. Although her restraints allow her little movement she pushes herself into my thrusts. Her absolute want seems to slip through my skin and that moment when I release myself within her comes closer.
I have to listen closely then. Iris’s gasps have become almost words. “No,” she pants. “Can’t. Can’t. No.”
“Good slave.” I praise her, and she is. I’ve told her she is not to come without my permission. The sexy sub is repeating my order so that she won’t disobey.
“That’s right,” I go on, never ceasing to fuck her. “You obey my orders no matter how difficult it is. You’re mine. Mine to control, to use.”
Those words cause Iris to stop talking. Her hands gather up the quilt and squeeze hard. She becomes stock still as she teeters at the precipice.
“Hold on, slave. You’ve got a ways to go yet.”
The woman bound to the bed starts to let out a whine of effort. It’s taking all her strength to hold her orgasm at bay.
I listen carefully. This has to be timed just right. Soon I can hear the crackle of her will giving way. A few more moments and Iris’s body will fall into climax and not even God could stop it.
So I give her the order she has been waiting for. “Come for me, slave.”
“Fuck!” explodes from my plaything as her orgasm hits her with tsunami force. Her chains make an audible crack as every muscle in her body tightens at once. That expletive is followed by another, and another, and another. Every stroke of my cock into her ripples through her whole body, pumping the flames of her passion into incendiary heat. Her pussy squeezes me, demanding that I spend within her.
Iris’s orgasm finally fades. Her body goes limp. But those sweet whines still sound. She’s not spent yet.
My hands grab her hair. I pull her head back and use the locks wrapped in my fists to help me ride her.
That brings my lovely lady out of her stupor. Once again she pulls herself, as well as she’s able, into my hard strokes. “So good,” somehow seeps out of her mouth. In just a couple of minutes the noise that tells me she’s holding back an orgasm fills the room.
“Come, slave,” I order again, and again she obeys. Once more, she ejaculates verbal filth into the air. Again, her body goes wire tight. Once more, her cunt clutches at me with utter want.
That climax passes and Iris’s muscles go limp once more. Save for her lungs that pump those erotic mewls out past her vocal cords. The sweat runs off her and I can feel other fluids trickle over my sac.
Now it’s my turn to hold back. My instant of glory is threatening to overwhelm me. But I want us to come together, in more ways than one. I grit my teeth, clamp down on my passion. I never cease using the beautiful woman bound in front of me.
I don’t have to wait long. The now familiar whine that tells me my slave is waiting for her order sounds. I manage to gasp, “Come, slave!” before shooting my seed into her, as we want. I lean into Iris and wrap my arms around her, clasping her hot, slick body to me.
It feels like we’re joined together as one entity by our mutual climaxes. I can hear sounds, shouts of triumph and joy, but I can’t tell which of us is making them. Neither Iris nor I move as all conscious action is washed away by utter, carnal bliss. All I’m aware of is that deep moment of completeness that always ends such of perfect round of play. Joy is the infinite land of our existence.
The world draws me back, although I don’t know how long I was gone, nor do I care. The first thing I’m aware of is my sweet slave still clutched to me and panting with exertion. I can feel shivers of fading rapture pass though her body. Those gasps fade, and then the lovely woman under me purrs in satisfaction. “Thank you, Master,” she tells me with shaky words.
“You are very welcome, slave,” I manage to croak. My throat is dry and speaking is difficult. But I don’t mind as the euphoria our evening has created numbs any discomfort.
We simply lay there for a while, basking in the feel of each other. I might be a dom but simple human pleasures aren’t something I avoid. Play is one thing, intimacy another. I don’t separate them, and in this case they are the same thing. So I wallow in it.
Finally a shiver of cold sweeps over me. It’s time to get into bed. So, with some difficulty I stand and pull myself from the comfortable wetness of my sub’s pussy. She whimpers with loss as I do. She needn’t worry. This won’t be our last time together. Of this I am certain.
I free Iris’s limbs, help her stand and guide her to the side of the bed. A quick motion turns the sheets back. I lay her down and tuck her in. Then I take a quick trip to the bathroom and pour a glass of water which I quickly drink. The glass is refilled and then I return to my sweet, exhausted sub. I sit her up a little and help her takes sips of water until there’s no more. The way I worked her she needs her fluids replaced. Then I take the other side of the bed, gather my slut close and whisper, “Good night, slave.” There’s a feel to those words. I know it is not the last time I’ll be saying them to her and I will be saying them often.
I can barely hear her reply through the fog of sleep that overwhelms me.

* * * *

I wake up and I can tell it’s quite early. No sounds of the city reach me and there’s not a hint of sun sneaking around the drape in the window.
I’m also in bed alone.
I hear a noise in the room and I turn to find the source of it. In the dim light of the room I can see Iris is just starting to get dressed.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
She starts at my question and looks up. A guilty grimace wafts across her face. “I’m…I’m heading back to my hotel.”
“Why?”
“That’s how it’s always been before. Either the guy left or I did as soon as we were done.” Her expression is sad and resigned.
“I’m not like other men,” I tell her, “so come back to bed.”
At those words, Iris smiles a whole smile. She drops her panties back on the floor and rejoins me.
I wrap her in my arms like the valuable person she is and in moments we’re asleep once more.

* * * *

Morning comes with a gentle message from my tablet computer.  “Good morning, Dave.” says HAL 9000.
Iris and I share a quick kiss, a snuggle and a shower, in that order. Room service has breakfast for us in minutes. We share English muffins with cream cheese while perusing sections of the newspaper. We don’t speak much, but we smile at each other frequently.
Then we dress. Iris has spare undergarments and uniform in her suitcase. A good thing as the ones she wore last night aren’t fit for wearing for some reason. “You’re flying back today?” I ask as she dons the livery of her airline.
She pauses buttoning up her jacket. “Yes. One day out and one day back.” There’s a query in her eyes as she speaks.
I look down as I button my own jacket and don’t say more.
When we’re done I escort my Iris to the hotel’s entrance. We pause, I turn to her and pull out a business card. I take out a pen and I scribble my home phone and e-mail address on it. When the lovely lady takes it I reach out and pull her to me. “You still have much to learn, slave. We’ll have to do this again,” I whisper in her ear. I follow that up with a deep, passionate kiss. 
The way Iris kisses me back, squeezes me tight, along with the shiver of lust that shimmies through her tell me all I need to know.
When we break apart I open a cab door for her, and hand enough money to the cabbie to cover the trip to Heathrow. I give her a quick kiss on the mouth once she’s seated and close the door. She looks at me through the back window and I watch until her cab disappears into traffic.
With a fond smile on my face as memories of the previous night dance across my mind I head for my rented car.

* * * *

I sigh with some weariness as I walk the boarding ramp to my plane back to Toronto. It’s been a busy three days.
The first thing I had done on arrival at my English office was fire the manager and chief accountant. That was followed by the police taking them from the premises in handcuffs. They had nearly bankrupted that section of my business by embezzling funds. That was followed by promoting the people that alerted me to what my former employees had been up to. I don’t countenance dishonesty and I reward honesty. It’s good business as well as the right thing to do.
Then I had to calm the waters. Such a traumatic event could be very bad for the company morale. So I spent until late last night reassuring my employees that all would be well. I checked on the various projects we were working on, made sure that everyone was praised for good work and that the new management was eased into place. Like recovery from surgery it was necessary but exhausting.
I’m looking forward to getting home and taking a few days to put my feet up.
A familiar voice greats me as I walk into the cabin of the plane. “Hello, Sir.” The ‘Sir’ has just the right inflection to show the proper subservience.
I smile at Iris. “Hello again.” To others it sounds like a simple rejoinder. The look I give my slave tells her it’s far more than that.
The sudden fire in her eyes along with a slightly wicked smile tells me my sweet sub is looking forward to our arrival in our home city.
This is the start of a beautiful relationship is my thought as I head for my seat.

FIN

If you’ve enjoyed this small piece of kink you might consider purchasing my book Quick Pieces of Kinky Smut. It has many more stories you’re sure to enjoy.

Here’s a quick excerpt from one entitled Bless Me, Father.

* * * *
May O’Conner lay sprawled on her couch, her eyes fixed on the television screen. Her hands roved over her body, tickled her T-shirt clad torso, stroked the smooth legs sticking out from her cut off jean covered hips. She knew her lover would be there soon, that she had to get ready for their date. Instead she sat there teasing herself, caught in the kink that held her in control.
It was a scene she’d watched many times. The woman on the screen was saying “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” The man of the cloth was reaching for her and soon they would be doing things a person in his position shouldn’t do. May loved it.
Ever since she’d first become a woman, May had lusted after men like the one on the screen. Just past being a girl her eyes would fix on them at Sunday Mass. She didn’t know, then, what she wanted from them, but May knew she wanted them. This want grew stronger as she grew older. The fact that it was forbidden, so, so sinful increased its grip on her.
So here she was, playing with herself, loving the wicked feelings rising in her. She’d be a little late for her date but she knew if she didn’t give into her lust now she’d be distracted by it all evening.
A knock came at the front door to her apartment.
Damn! she thought. Not now! May stayed where she was, watching her DVD. She hoped whoever it was would go away. There were more important things for her to do.
The knock came again, more insistently this time.
All right, damn it! I’m coming. Sighing unhappily, May got off the couch and padded on bare feet to the door. She swung it open and said, “What do you wa…” Her sentence ended with a gasp.
The man standing in the hall was tall and broad shouldered. It was the way he was dressed that caught her attention though. She stared at the clerical collar wrapped around his throat. A cassock was draped over his solid form. Bringing her eyes up she saw his face was clean shaven with a strong chin. His mouth smiled warmly. The man’s grey eyes were friendly, with a hint of some other emotion flickering in them. Dark brown hair neatly coifed covered his head.
May stood still, surprise holding her for an instant. She shivered as lust made her pussy twitch. The heat inspired by the movie she had been watching grew at the appearance of her fantasy figure at the door. Her green eyes blinked and she lifted a hand to smooth her copper red hair.
“I believe you have need of me,” the man said.
The word ‘need’ in all its forms rippled through her. It took a moment, but May succeeded in nodding.
“You should invite me in then,” he continued.
May nodded again and stood aside. The man in the clerical garb walked in. She closed the door behind him.
He looked at her, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.
“T, this way, Father,” she managed to say, her voice unsteady. May led him into the living room and the pair sat on the couch. May caught up her remote, clicked the button to turn off the TV. The half cynical smile on her guest’s face made her aware that he had seen what was happening on the screen.
Her visitor’s mouth quirked, a gesture of amusement with a hint of mischief in it. “You need to confess, don’t you my child?” he asked.
A shiver ran through May, the most delicious tremor of heat. This was so much like her fantasies, the ones that had kept her awake at night. Naked and with her hands busily working she’d visualize this moment.
“I… I…” she stammered. “Y, yes, Father. I do need to confess.”
The man sitting next to her said nothing. His face held a calm questioning, with a twist of puckish amusement on his mouth.
“I have sin, sinful thoughts, Father,” May went on.
“About what, my child?” he prodded.
“About, about, men like you, Father.”
His response was that amused, somewhat wicked smile. A heat began to glow in his eyes. “Go on,” he prompted.
“I imagine…” May gulped down the sudden surge of lust in her. “…imagine a man like you. I imagine him touching me, playing with me. I, I get so horny.” Her eyes widened at the base language that slipped out of her mouth. “I imagine opening myself to him, him entering me, the two of us fu, fu, fucking.” May’s face turned a bright red. She had tried to use a less profane term but only the word ‘fucking’ covered what was in her imagination.
“That is very sinful, my child,” her guest noted, “very sinful. Such thoughts require a penance.”
May’s face grew grim. Although she was no longer a practicing Church member, the thought of penance still bought up feelings of shame. Shame which, as always, made her lust climb higher.
“Your penance…” the man in the cassock told her. He paused.
May’s body grew tight with anticipation and uneasiness. Myriad thoughts, lustful and embarrassing, swirled through her mind.
“…is to not orgasm until I tell you you can.”