A Mere Trickle

A MERE TRICKLE
I was on my knees in front of Her, my eyes down to the floor. I had been around a time or two, but this mature, amateur Lady made me shiver in fear and admiration. Everything about Her was powerful; Her piercing eyes, Her personality and the tone of Her voice left no doubt that She expected to be obeyed. And She didn’t need a whip for that.

Her black, shiny boots came into view in front of me. My heart was racing and my mouth was dry. Then She put Her finger under my chin and forced me to look at Her.

It was nothing really, just a slight movement of Her hand, a mere trickle in the scheme of things, a painless touch in the world of Dominance and submission. But to me it was just breathtaking and I was in awe of the beauty of the moment. Huge waves of submission swept over me, dragging me under. All it took was an index finger and the tiniest bit of pressure to reach the Glory of Female Power and the Heavens of slavery.

What are you, She asked with a commanding tone of voice.
I’m Your slave, Mistress, I whispered, spiralling down in the vortex of Her eyes.
That’s right, She said.