Ghost of a Chance

Last night, I dreamed of a black horse. Upon waking, I looked in the dictionary of dreams I keep in my bedside table, to see if there is any significance to this particular night time vision. It seems a dream of a black horse is a dream of passion. Considering all that has happened in the past weeks, I am not surprised.

Ever have one of those years? When everything just seemed to go to shit no matter what you planned or tried to do? Story of my life. I am a cautious man by deed and nature, not really given to any wild flings or urges mind you, but occasionally I am given over to bouts of intense emotion that I have no outlet or release for, that is, until I met her. Yeah, I know, sounds corny, but it's true. It was a chance meeting in fact, several scene friends invited me to a small gathering to be held at one of the local munch group member's home, and with just a by-your-leave, I went. I have never mixed well with a crowd, or with persons I have never met before, I could play in such environments, but just being there was difficult. So I sat on the sofa and drank a soda while listening to other speak about life and the lifestyle, off in the other room the sounds of agony and ecstasy heard in low tones as the dungeon was getting a good workout.

It was a total accident. I stood and set my coke down as another entered the room. I collided with the woman as she turned her head around to say something to the person behind her. Her head whiplashed to face me as we bumped, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady her glass. I froze as her eyes burned into mine. She had the eyes of a Goddess, the kind one could fall into forever. I stammered something and my eyes dropped submissively, only to have my chin cupped by a well manicured hand and brought back to face her. She said nothing to me for that moment, but her eyes spoke volumes. In an instant I felt all I was open and exposed before her, and I began to crave that touch of her upon me. She released my chin and nodded slowly, as if responding to an unconscious and unspoken question uttered by my soul. In a blur of movement, she was gone. My eyes slowly turned to follow her retreating form as she moved to a different part of the house. I took several deep breaths to calm myself as I continued my journey into the dining room. There were several people around the table, which held various finger foods and drinks for the guests. I wasn't too hungry, but took a small plate and returned to my seat in the living room. My seat gave me a perfect view of the outside, where several guests had stepped out to have a cigarette. She was out there as well, laughing as she stood and smoked. She was pure dominant. Even across the room I could feel it. I sat there with a small plate of food untouched as I casually watched her. She was not the most beautiful woman at the party, but to me she glowed. Her mousy auburn hair was pulled into a French braid that hung between her shoulder blades, and her horn rim glasses seemed to be forever perched on the end of her patrician nose. Her eyes locked with mine across the gulf, a slim eyebrow rose as she took another puff off her cigarette as she slowly flayed my soul.

It took a great deal of willpower to wretch my eyes away or be forever lost. I only picked at the food on the plate as I sank deeper into my seat, as if to hide myself from the world. I could feel her eyes flash over me on occasion, and my fingers paled as I gripped the arms of the seat. Part of me wanted to leave, I did not feel worthy to be anywhere near her, and another part wanted me to stay, to boldly go and introduce myself to her, and perhaps win her favor. I stood quickly and made my way to the kitchen and dropped off the uneaten plate into the garbage. A pair of submissives chatted happily while they washed the dishes under the casual guidance of their masters who sat at the dining room table playing cards. I nodded respectfully to the two gentlemen, one of who gave me a grin and waved. I knew most of the people here, and liked to think I have a good reputation amongst them. I wandered through the house and quietly observed the public play. As I watched a sensual waxing I felt melancholy, it was hard being a male slave with no one to serve.

I quietly bade my hosts a good evening and gathered my coat and left the home. I had not run into that mysterious Mistress again, and I was both happy and sad. I wasn't looking as I walked to my car, and definitely did not see the pair of high heels that dangled near the front of left tire. The scent of tobacco filled my nostrils as I blinked and glanced up. She was sitting on the hood of my car. She raised her cigarette to her lips and drew deeply, the ember almost illuminating her features fully in the shadowed twilight. She extended one of her hands and I took it and helped her down from the hood. She walked over to the passenger side of the car and waited as I opened it for her, my heart accelerating. She slid into the car and I closed the door for her, then returned to my side and entered quickly. She said nothing as I started the car and began to pull out.

"The Bradford Hotel." She spoke, a grey stream of smoke accentuating the command. There was an accent to her voice, European, possibly from the Low Countries.

"Yes M'Lady." I responded automatically. I always used the M'Lady as a formal mode of address to a Mistress. A long time ago it was the only way I was allowed to address a Superior unless I had earned the privilege of calling her Mistress.

She lit a second cigarette and smoked quietly, her head turned slightly to watch me. I could see her eyes in the peripheral of my vision as one of my favorite Rush song's played on the CD stereo. A well manicured hand reached out and touched the side of my face, tracing a line along my ear and the soft curls of my hair. My heart skipped a beat at the touch of her hand. Even in this the most simple of services I wanted more.

I pulled the car up to the front of the hotel and got out and opened her door for her. She stepped out, crushing the butt beneath her heel as she rose effortlessly. She dragged one of her nails up the open collar of my shirt, along my chest until the nail scratched my chin, bringing my eyes to hers.

"The Penthouse Suite. Ten minutes." Then turned and strode up through the open doors of the hotel. I glanced down at my watch and closed the door. I raced around to jump into the driver's seat, putting the car into gear I raced to find an open parking spot. Around the hotel and in the back lot I parked, and then raced to the entrance to an elevator. I glanced down at my watch. Five minutes remained. The hotel was only four stories, with the upper floor devoted to suites. The Penthouse Suite was the largest available, and located at the far side of the hotel. I turned and raced through the stair door and up four flights of stairs, literally leaping up them two at a time until I reached the fourth floor. I paused for a quick breath then walked quickly to the Penthouse Suite door and glanced at my watch. As time reached zero I knocked, trying all the while to reign in my racing heart.

Time stretched out to eternity as I waited for the door to open. The click of the opening lock was akin to a lightning bolt, and the low creak of the door hinges as thunder. Her eyes took slowly examined me before allowing me passage into her realm. I followed at a respectful distance and stood silently as she pointed to a position in the center of the suite. I knelt in the space, my legs tucked under me with my heels pinned against my thighs. My hands rested on my thighs upturned and empty, my head bowed in acknowledgment of her, my legs open allow access should desire it. I heard the footfalls of her heels as she moved around me and out of my lowered vision. Every sound, every scent, every sensation was magnified…

The water running in the suite's bathroom…

The pleasant aroma of her smoldering cigarette…

The feel of the plush carpeting through the fabric of my dress pants…

I fought the urge to look up as a chair landed only inches from me, the legs close to my knees. Her legs fell into my view as one of her feet hovered only inches from my face, the shoe dangled from her toes. The shoe landed in my lap with a plop, and her nylon encased toes wriggled once. My hands rose of their own volition and slowly began to massage her dainty foot. I let my fingers work the muscles slowly, deftly easing any pains or care she had away. She let a contented purr escape her lips as I worked and I kept up a gentle pace so that I would not get too tired or my fingers worn out. I switched feet as she raised the other, setting the first foot on my thigh to rest. My own feet shouted their stress as I worked slowly; setting aside my own pains and concerns to concentrate on her and hers alone.

Without a word she stood, the black stocking feet slowly retreating from my vision as I returned to my rest pose, my back ramrod straight as I knelt and awaited her next command.

"You may stand." She said. I gracefully rose from knelling to standing in one motion, my eyes never leaving the floor as my hands crossed themselves behind my back, my feet positioned a foot apart.

The sounds of Chopin lowly echoed through the room as I heard her move about beyond my limited sight. My breath caught in my throat as I felt her hand at my back, just above my wrists. Her sheathed foot touched the inside of my ankle lightly, then with great force as she widened my stance to her satisfaction. Her hand grasped both my wrists as she worked until my feet were at least three feet apart. My legs burned, but I remained silent. I felt at peace as her hand released mine, and in an instant, everything seemed right with the world. She returned to her chair and sat down, her legs crossed as she watched me.

"Look at me." She ordered. I let my eyes slowly rise to take her radiance in. She remained in the clothes from the party, a red leather skirt slit at the side with a white silk blouse and red leather vest. Her eyes looked at me over the rims of her glasses.

"I am Lady Anika, Professional and Lifestyle Dominant. I am a citizen of Belgium and I reside in Brussels. I know what you want." Her voice soft. "What you desire."

I swallowed, and remained silent.

"What you want and desire is irrelevant." She produced another cigarette and lit it. "You are a slave. You have no wants or desire other than the pleasure of your Mistress, no?" A jet of blue-grey smoke rushed towards me.

My lips tightened to a thin line. I wanted to speak, but training won over desire.

"Your friend Michael told me all about you. He was, I believe, trying to 'sell' you to me." She took another puff and exhaled sharply. "I do not grant such interviews lightly, nor do I simply take in strays. If you truly wish to serve, if you truly wish to be owned…then it is, as they say, my way or the highway." Her eyes softened. "I can empathize with you, your emotions must be in turmoil, but I expect total obedience to my orders. A woman of my station cannot be seen with anything less than perfection."

She leaned forward and pointed at an identical chair along the wall of the suite. "Fetch."

I snapped to a smart attention and retrieved the chair and set it in front of her as she directed. She leaned back as I resumed my position behind the chair. "Sit down."

I sat nervously in the chair and tried not to fidget.

"Now, we shall talk." She leaned over and retrieved an ashtray, snuffing out the cigarette and setting the ashtray on the carpet beside her. "What are your dreams?"

I licked my lips once, my eyes firmly affixed to her. I was tempted to ask how my dreams mattered, but wisely did not.

"My dreams…ever since I was young I have felt the urge to serve, to submit. For many years I did not know what it meant, until I ran across a female domination magazine in an adult book shop. It was then I knew what I was, and what I wanted to become. My dream is to be totally owned by a Mistress…to be her slave, her toy, her companion, a 'good little wife' as it were. Someone with whom I could lay all my fears and worries to, to be praised and punished as needed.

Much of what I have learned has been geared towards such a Mistress. I learned to cook, how to keep a house, all the little things that would make me useful to a Mistress…unfortunately, finding such a Mistress who would be willing to give me a chance has been difficult to say the least."

"You have many skills that would indeed serve a Mistress well." She commented. "Do you think you have set your goal too high?"

"No M'Lady." I replied. "I do not."

"Would you give up your safeword?"

"To the right Mistress…maybe." I frowned. "Such loss could lead to harm."

"Maybe?"

"I would have to have perfect trust in the Mistress in question before I would submit to such."

"Hmmm."

I sat quietly in the chair as she leaned forward and rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Would you drop everything and leave your home to be with your Mistress?"

"Yes." I blurted.

"You have debts?"

"I do."

"And you would forfeit those to be with your Mistress?"

"It would not be easy, but I would."

She rose slowly and walked to the small kitchenette of the suite and retrieved a bottle of water. She sipped it slowly and stared at me.

"You present and interesting quandary." She began. "When I arrived here in the states I have met with and interviewed several potential slaves. I have known your friend Michael for many years, and he suggested that I look you over before deciding. I am indeed looking for a permanent slave to take into my service. The ones I have interviewed before you are all more experienced and refined that you are. However, you have an innocence about you that is as alluring as an exquisite perfume. You know much, and are capable of learning further." She sipped from the bottle again. "What are your safewords?"

"Red is for stop, yellow is for not as hard or heavy, but okay, and green is for everything is alright."

"Strip." She ordered. "Set your clothes neatly on the coffee table and go and stand facing the corner." She pointed to the far corner next to the patio door. She disappeared into one of the bedrooms as I stood and quickly undressed, folding each item of clothing and placing them on the table as ordered. I set my shoes beneath the clothes under the table and moved quickly to face the corner. I heard the clinking of metal in the bedroom but it did not register. The weight of her words laid heavily upon me and I had to take several deep breaths to cleanse and center myself. A thousand flashes of possibilities fired through my brain, and I tried to empty my thoughts of any and all expectations. My hands took their place crossed behind me as before; my feet grazed the baseboards of the walls. From my spot I could smell the odor of paint and age in the corner of the room. Time seemed to be suspended in an infinite moment of anticipation.

I felt her before I heard her. The scent of fine leather reached my nostrils as a pair of hands ran along my shoulders and upper back. I marveled at the simple sensations that were produced by such an act. Darkness enveloped me as she slipped a blindfold over my head and tightened it. Her hands then trailed down my shoulders, feather-light touches along my forearms until she gripped my hands in hers.

"Step back." She commanded, pulling my hands away from my body. I stepped back from the wall and let her guide me with my hands.

"Stop." She squeezed both hands, then the left hand.

"Left." I turned left until she squeezed both hands again. I stopped until she pushed my hands into my lower back. I took a full step forward, then another, then another until I was walking across the suite. In my mind I repeated the simple mantra:

Trust.

Obey.

Trust.

Obey.

The temperature of the room changed as I followed her hand signals until she squeezed both and then released them. I had no idea as to where I was in the suite, but I remained firm in my position until she commanded otherwise. The same feather-touch returned, tracing a path around my body, around my nipples, down the soft down of my chest hair to the pubic mound. I fought every instinct to become erect as the leather of her glove took my penis into her hand and squeeze it, then release my member to cup and weigh my testicles. The touch vanished as my genitals hung free once again. The scent of leather seemed to become intensified as something was draped over my left shoulder. My left wrist was encased in a cuff and I heard the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut. My right followed and both were returned to my waiting position. Something surrounded my waist and I exhaled as the clinking buckle was pulled tight. A hand slid down my left leg and pulled my calf up. A cuff being locked around my ankle, then the right leg and ankle until I was properly cuffed. My foot, released, resumed its spot on the floor.

A warm cloud of smoke enveloped my face as I heard a familiar snap-hiss of a lighter. A dot of heat and pain flashed across my chest, my muscles locked into place and my lips colorless as I mashed them together to prevent the gasp that would have overtaken me. It did not feel like a burn, yet my senses told me of the heat and bite of pain. I felt her hand reach around my head to release the blindfold and pull it off. I kept my eyes closed as she did so.

"Open your eyes."

Her face was only inches from mine. The glasses magnified the intensity of her blue eyes, her expression neutral. I kept very still as she took another puff off her cigarette then take the burning ember and apply it to one of my chest hairs. The pain was lessened, but present as she quietly burned chest hairs off. She inhaled again, this time bring her face close to mine. Smoke leaked from her mouth as she slowly rubbed her face against mine. My mind and body fought as I felt the first stirrings of my penis, not wanting to become erect, but caught in the sensuality of her touch. My fetish for watching women smoke was being used against me mercilessly. She smiled slightly, and then turned to walk around the bed and set the cigarette in an ashtray. My eyes flickered down to the bed, covered in toys and gear of every conceivable purpose, many of which I had only read about, but never experienced. On top of a set of straps was a simple file folder with my picture affixed to it with a paper clip. The folder was thick with papers, and I blushed at what secrets about me it contained. She returned to her spot in front of me and took my nipples between the thumb and forefingers of her leather covered hands.

"I like your nipples." She twisted and pulled them, grinding down with pressure. My nostrils flared as I had to bite my lower lip.

"I would pierce them, you know." She continued. "Large silver rings that would stretch them out. Perhaps hang a chain between them."

A slight moan escaped my lips as she suddenly twisted them in the opposite direction, the friction of the leather adding to the stinging pain. She released them and slowly rubbed them, the pain of the blood rushing in adding to the torment. She turned to the bed and picked up a leather ball-gag, then held the leather covered sphere up to my lips. I opened my mouth and tasted the warm leather. She buckled the gag tight and stepped behind me. She turned me to face the wall mirror. I knew I wasn't the best looking guy in the world, a little overweight, but she held me in position so that I could watch myself. Her chin perched on my shoulder as she wrapped her arms around me. The belt around my waist and many hooks and clips for various items, some of which I gathered to be for chastity devices of some kind. Her hands slid up and down my body.

"Do you know what I see?" She bit my earlobe. "I see a slave." She whispered. "Your sole reason for existence is the pleasure of your Mistress. It calls to you." Her hand reached down to squeeze my penis. "Everything you are screams slave. You were born for one purpose."

I whimpered into the gag as she spoke. My heart beat a hummingbird's dance as my stomach tied itself into knots worthy of a Shibari Master.

"Shhh." She brought both hands up and locked her hands around my body. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Give my your pain, your suffering, your obedience…relax, and accept."

She guided me away from the mirror back to the bed. I took slow, deep breaths as she picked up a leather lace up sheath and slid it over my penis. With deft hands she tightened the laces and attached several straps to it, then pulled it down and affixed the straps both to the front and through my legs to the back of the belt. She stepped back and examined her work, nodding to herself as she let loose with a sharp slap against the harness. A spike of pain flared through my groin as my penis tried to respond but could not.

"I will be here in town for a couple of the weeks." She picked up her cigarette and finished it. "Can I expect your undivided attention for that period?"

I nodded once.

Before I could blink, the weeks were gone. Never before in my life had I undergone such a test. I never left her room at all during the test, and I knew my friend had covered for me with work, although I did not once think of even calling in. Spending that time at Lady Anika's feet was the most enlightening and rewarding experience I could have imagined at that time. She was exceptionally cruel in her punishments, which ranged from a slap to the face to the cane, and quite gentle in her rewards, often a smile and a caress, more rare a kiss. I grew to long for one her kisses, into which she seemed to pour her soul into, a perfect moment in which everything was well and good. And then it was over. I woke up one morning to find her gone, my friend Michael present to see me up and out of the suite. She did not leave a card or note, and any messages she might have left through Michael I remained ignorant of. Patience, he intoned, she would contact me if she desired it. I would not know of whether I pleased her or not for a week. I missed the intricate bondage she would place me in before bed, and any attempts to try self-bondage of a similar vein resulted in disaster. One could say that the passion had left me, and in some ways it was true. That was, until a large manila envelope arrived via express mail. There was no return address, and I frowned slightly. I opened the envelope and withdrew the contents. An airline ticket, one way, and a cashier's check along with a set of rather explicit instructions…

Slave,

Enclosed you will find an airline ticket for Brussels. You have one week to put aside your affairs and submit yourself to me. I expect you to be at the airport awaiting my car. Bring nothing with you except your passport. Use the cashier's check to pay your debts and what remains to use as travel money.

Signed,

Lady Anika.

I was exceptionally nervous in her show of trust. An unscrupulous person would have simply taken the money and walked away. For me the money was simply a means to an end, and that end led to Lady Anika's leash. I paid the few bills that remained and closed my accounts at my bank. My last night of freedom was one of omens and portents, imagery which I had read to be of fortune and passion.

Michael promised to look after my few belongings should I need them, and I boarded the plane, passport in hand, without a glance back. The trip was long, but I could not sleep nor eat. My nerves were taut like the strings of a violin awaiting its master's bow. My fingers touched my lips, remembering the last kiss she gave me, tracing my bottom lip where she bit me. The layover in London was a blur, barely worth remembering or chronicling, to me it was all nothing more than a step closer to my goal. I did buy a simple book on Belgium on the layover, and knew that it would only take an hour or so to reach the small country. My nerves were plainly visible to the stewardesses on the flight, and I respectfully refused any drinks that might calm me down. The last thing I wanted was to appear before her with alcohol on my breath. It was midnight when the plane landed, a clear night with a full moon shining overhead. The stars in the sky seemed to shimmer like diamonds as I took several deep cleansing breaths while disembarking. I smiled at the woman at customs and quickly cleared through and walked to the main entrance of the airport. I looked around as my eyes adjusted to the light. A large van pulled out from the curb and drove off, and that is when I saw her astride a black steel horse. My eyes lit up as I took the first steps towards her. She smiled…