Strictly Business

Title Page

STRICTLY BUSINESS

By

Adrienne Maitresse

Publisher Information

Strictly Business

published in 2015 by House of Erotica

an imprint of Andrews UK Limited

www.houseoferoticabooks.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright © 2015 Adrienne Maitresse

The rights of Adrienne Maitresse have been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Strictly Business

The shaft of light from behind the closed black flock blind illuminated the room, but in its wake revealed another grey February day. It was the kind of day that ultimately leads to sunny summer afternoons where in my world the smell of sweet jasmine and sultry sex combine. But, today, in an attempt to evade winter reality for as long as possible, I pulled the heavy duvet up tight, although sanctuary was only short lived. A spurious slumber was interrupted in the usual obtrusive way thanks to the sound of contact from my mobile discarded on the bedside cabinet. Fleetingly, it occurred to me that I really should check my phone for messages and a passing glance at the table also suggested a bit of tidy up might be in order.

“You're quiet this morning” read the usually succinct message. I pondered whether this was a simple suggestion of ‘I haven't heard from you yet' or whether it was in actual fact secret code for ‘I expected to hear from you this morning'. Either way I felt it polite to reply with a suitable response even though my first instinct was to be rather discontinuous in my communication with business boy at what I envisaged was such an unearthly hour.

I pondered only momentarily upon the content of my reply, but quickly decided that short and simple was the way to go on this occasion, not wanting to come across as too enthusiastic. After all, here I was, Mistress Bibi, a self-assured and self-reliant Dominatrix, a professional and experienced Goddess, and Bitch, who was about to Mistress a man for free ... on the house ... gratis ... a complimentary offering. It may have been a cold winter's day but it was also business boy's lucky one. Becoming a Dominatrix had been a life time in the making, and I was incredibly adept from a young age on how to use my sex to exude power over men, and yes, from time to time exploited this to fulfil my own intrinsic needs. I'd never been and never would be ashamed of that. Today was simply one of those occasions. So, in a cool but firm riposte, “I have much to do in preparation for this afternoon” I retorted.

As instantaneously as the message disappeared into the technological ether, the time appeared: 9.27am, and with it advised this Mistress that she really should get her ass out of bed in readiness for taking his.

The first time I set eyes on business boy was when he had sent me a photo of himself. It was from this that I had mistakenly concluded he was some kind of beach bum and not the professional business man or libertine he purported to be. After all, as an active participant in the kink scene, I am well aware that bullshit reigns supreme, where online profiles of young brats, middle aged doms, subs and slaves that offer themselves up on the basis of their intrinsic need to be dominated or humiliated are little more than fanciful fabrications.

In the picture business boy looked young and almost innocent. His body was tanned and toned, reminiscent of those you see on Bondi. His hair was short but messy and was teamed with a smattering of seductive stubble and an inviting smile. I had been intrigued by the Ray Ban camouflage, and envisaged a pair of enticing eyes in alluring azure. Whatever, I had deduced, there sure as hell hadn't been a designer suit in sight. Of course, alongside the simulated holiday snap, my inbox had also been perpetrated with the inevitable cock shot, suitably embellished with an erection. I've never quite sussed whether it represents the male human display of peacock feathers or a feigned attempt to ingratiate oneself with Mistress. Although, to be candid, I have to admit that on this occasion I had been uncharacteristically impressed. After all, a cock is a cock, but, some do look better than others. Some are straight, some have a charming little curve to the side or upward. Some are short and stocky, others long and lean. Business boy's cock was lengthy, the kind of lasting length that can suitably investigate any pulsating pussy penetrated. However, this splendid specimen also had girth, giving way to a circumference which could inevitably instigate an orgasm in 30 seconds flat.

From initial conversations, I had gleaned that business boy was just out of a relationship, was trained in a professional occupation, and liked to think of himself as a sapiosexual, suggesting early on that intelligence was simply the most sexually attractive characteristic of any woman. Yet his alter ego was a filthy minded submissive who secretly struggled to reconcile his vanilla life and his kink filled desires. I'd even go as far as to say that he felt ashamed of them to a certain extent. His female partners hadn't understood, some had even ended relationships because of them. Poor old business boy all alone in his suburban paradise with only a purple dildo for company.

I'd also sussed that he had a penchant for strap-on, wanking whilst on the phone, being humiliated and a monumental heel fetish. He also craved wearing his favourite pair of blush coloured women's panties adorned with contrasting fuchsia lace, and never more so than whilst in board meetings.

As an initiation to Mistress' milieu, I had already instructed him to enter the board room suitably attired in said briefs alongside a pair of 10 denier hold ups under his trousers. The clandestine challenge had culminated in him having to excuse himself from the board to find the nearest men's toilet in order to relieve himself, returning just in time for his pitch on European Funding availability. Then there was the time when he had been travelling with a colleague to a meeting. As he journeyed South we exchanged covert and carnal text messages, which left his manhood definitely heading North. There we were being secretly salacious and overtly obscene, and all the while his travelling companion having no idea of what debauchery was afoot. His messages regaling Mistress with tales of how hard his cock was and how much it was dripping with desire to be chastised, climaxing with a ‘pit stop' in the facilities of a service station en route.

Whatever the comparable circumstances, they had in fairness all engaged further enthusiasm on my part for the ensuing D/S relationship. A relationship which would reveal that business boy was in actual fact no beach bum surfer dude. He was a suit. A high profile, big salary earning, humiliation hunting, heel worshipping, submissive strap-on sucking suit. And for some reason Mistress was intent on taking his virginal grey flannelled ass.

And so, the day had arrived when the suit and the Mistress would finally meet. Business boy and I had agreed that our rendezvous was not to be regarded as a date by either party involved, more an erotic assignation. Yes it would be consensual, and yes it would be kinky but it would not require anything more than cursory commitment. In pursuit of this we had agreed to meet initially in the bar of the hotel that on my insistence I would choose, arrange and that of course he would pay for. Then, following what would inevitably be a flirtatious lunch we would relocate to the room.

When I arrived at the hotel bar, I spotted business boy in an instant. Dressed in a pair of indigo jeans complimented by a freshly pressed white shirt suitably completed with a pair of silver cuff links, business boy looked accomplished and well- groomed. He was sat alone in the one and only corner booth the hotel lounge had to offer, practically placed in an outlying part of the room and away from the hustle and bustle of the bar. It was the kind of booth that has no doubt seen many trysts over the years and if it were able, could tell a thousand stories. Rocking a pair of skinny fits and a sexy off the shoulder number, and teetering in my heels so high they defied gravity I sashayed across the room, stabilised only by a pull along bag containing my ‘tools' of the trade, all the while the sound of my footsteps proclaiming my imminent arrival.

As I reached the booth, business boy courteously rose to greet me, and the expression on his face went from astonishment to awe to full blown trepidation in a matter of seconds. Several pleasantries were duly exchanged which revealed that yes - I'm Bibi, yes - it's lovely to finally meet you too, yes - I would love a glass of Rioja, and much to my amusement that business boy was in fact Dom, which was short for Dominic. Dom but not dom I mused. His demeanour certainly gave the impression that he was suitably submissive in my presence which I imagined would be a contradiction for a man who probably brokered million pound deals on a daily basis.

“How should I address you” he nervously inquired, daring to make only momentary eye contact. His voice was soft-spoken and almost hushed. It paired perfectly with his body language which was a strong statement of his subordination and a direct contrast to his alpha male role in vanilla life.

I acknowledged his enquiry with a lasting look before replying.

“Mistress will be fine for today and I will call you sub”.

Dom not dom squirmed a little at my command. There was an outward look of trepidation on his face and a pronounced lump in his designer pants. It seemed appropriate that I should therefore decree he come and sit bedside Mistress. Polite conversation had also divulged that he was a keen sailor, and I could tell from his nervous posture as he shuffled closer that he was without doubt in uncharted waters. The instant sexual connectivity between us was unmistakable and sub's cock tangibly hardened whilst the hint of blush on his cheeks was symbolic of his shyness. There was now a patently obvious hard on eager to escape the confines of the soft denim as sub's erection bulged towards his left hand pocket and his eyes glazed with simmering lust. In reciprocation I surreptitiously positioned my hand on the base of his cock at the intersection with his balls. In delight, a whimpered moan escaped from sub's mouth, and with a seamless transition I began to caress his now even harder manhood, working my way from the base upwards and increasing the intensity of the caress until I reached the very tip. The end of his dick was large but in proportion to the rest of his package. Even through the layers of material it was possible to feel the ridge that simultaneously separates and unites the head with the shaft. Sub's arousal had already forced the foreskin back from his glans and the outline in his jeans left little to the imagination. My index finger followed the contour of his gloriously engorged corona which found its way to the very tip and the dimple that was the exit point for his soon to be spunk. Despite its fabric covering it was instantly responsive. I envisaged it would be smooth shiny and moist and it didn't disappoint as a small wet patch appeared, and with it sub let out another sexually charged sigh. The more I pressed my finger deeper in to the opening the bigger the wet patch became. Business boy was indeed the keeper of a generously apportioned specimen, although it would be Mistress who would ultimately own it, and his ass, and that deal was not negotiable.

“Have you done what I asked sub? “ I enquired with a familiar firmness in my voice.

“Yes Mistress I have shaved my cock, balls and my ass as you instructed” sub replied with a subservient and somewhat timid timbre.

“Well done slave, despite being a worthless piece of shit you have managed to somehow please Mistress”.

“What was that sub?” I asked.

“Sorry Mistress, thank you Mistress” came the reply, this time in an even more diffident manner than before.

It was clearly apparent that Dom was as suspected, nowhere near dom and would be the most deliciously compliant and obsequious play thing I'd had in a while. Equally, with such a servile toy at my disposal I was feeling more than ready to assume the role of the lascivious libertine, and I felt it time to leave business boy to finish his drink whilst I made my way to the room to make suitable arrangements. Staring deep into his eyes and devoid of emotion business boy was briefed that he had thirty minutes.

As I entered the room, I could feel my heart starting to pace a little in nervous anticipation of the afternoon's activities. Its beat resonated within me and was only stopped by the sound of the heavy wooden door closing behind me.

“So this is it” I said out loud to a non-existent audience.

The room was everything you'd expect from a ubiquitous hotel chain. It comprised of the usual carefully selected medley of furniture, which incorporated a useful yet understated work desk which doubled as a dressing table, a six tier shelving system which appeared to be hanging on to the built-in wardrobe for dear life, and an arm chair in the hotel's livery which had seen better days. Two wooden side tables flanked what appeared to be an over-size bed and offered the semblance that they were floating. One housed a telephone and the other displayed practical information such as the in-house menu and room service charge. The bed was bedecked with a duvet which was cocooned in crisp white bed linen, so starched it almost stood to attention. Its boundary clearly identified by a navy blue and white bed freckled runner which ushered the eye towards the inevitable bathroom. Whilst it was more generic than sophisticated it was decidedly practical.

Ever pragmatic, I set to work, pointedly preparing and ambitiously adapting the room for the scheduled matinee. A hotel visit is always slightly more of a challenge compared to studio sessions. After all, Mistress' chambers are a clearly defined and thought out space, full of all appliances, devices and gadgets any discerning client would expect, and boasting some fine bespoke apparatus in the guise of kinky furniture, custom made to Mistress' height - in heels of course.

As I unpacked the pull along that I'd brought with me, I chortled contentedly. I had visions of myself being some kind of Mistress ‘Poppins', owner of a boundless carpet bag which plays host to a never ending stream of objects, carried in by the the East Wind, and only staying until the wind changes.

Back to reality, the imparting items reflected an exhaustive and wanton BDSM wish list, and all without exception had been conscientiously chosen and carefully selected :

A set of bed restraints made of the finest black webbing equipped with suitably connected cuffs for wrists and ankles, deliberately designed to constrain and moderate movement.

A trio of black shiny butt plugs in ascending size order. Sealed in cellophane to ensure clinical cleanliness.