Chapter 1

December, 2005 
Katherine O’Brien, a.k.a. Mistress Kitty, reclined on the white leather sofa and her best friend, Jacqueline Foster, lounged on an identical one opposite, the stiletto heels of her platform boots resting on a narrow, central coffee table, which also happened to be her client.
Quite naked, the accountant’s pasty white skin rivaled the lounge suite for pallor. Marvin was a weedy little man with a shaved head and chocolate-brown eyes, which tilted up to view his mistress adoringly when he thought she wasn’t observing him. A quick press of her stiletto heel enlightened him otherwise.
“Eyes to the floor, slave,” the beautiful blonde-haired woman ordered, her blue eyes cold.
He released a mournful sound and lowered his eyes to the polished hardwood floor.
“Silence. I’m trying to have a conversation with Mistress Kitty.”
Such adoration was a precious gift indeed and Kitty never tired of seeing it. Marvin was once her client—he paid to be her personal slave and devotee and now he engaged Jackie to provide that same service.
Kitty and Jackie had studied together at Edinburgh College of Art and became business partners while still at college. Jackie was already a professional dominatrix at the time.
They shared a ProDom house on Berwick Street. The house of domination took up two floors, included two offices, a comfortable reception area with panoramic views, a private reception for intimate moments, a first-rate dungeon with all the wicked and wonderful trimmings, two cloakrooms and luxury bathroom amenities. Their loyal staff included a receptionist, two personal assistants, two maids and two bodyguards. Decorated in a white, black, red and brown-timber color scheme, the rooms were light, bright and airy, with the exception of the dungeon.
“Are you all right?” Jackie asked.
“Of course I am,” Kitty replied.
Jackie reached over, took her cup and saucer from the black woodgrain coffee table to the left of her chair arm, and sipped her tea. Her long red nails were a startling contrast against the white china. “This tastes like dishwater.” She shuddered.
Her slave’s sad eyes darted up to her and then rapidly dropped to the floor again. Jackie chose to ignore him this time, his obvious grief at disappointing her enough punishment.
Kitty would have done the same.
“Tell me about this gallery in Bloomsbury showing your fabulous Dominant Art.” Jackie’s fine brows drew together. “When does the presentation commence and how long will your works be on display?”
“This June and July. The twelfth ’til the twelfth.”
“Hmm, six months away.”
Jackie sipped her tea and shuddered again. She nudged her “table” with the toe of her boot before removing her feet. She snapped her fingers. “On your feet.” Her slave rose, eyes lowered. “Fetch more tea, and this time, have one of the girls make it, you incompetent fool.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He was as hard as a rock and so proud that his penis pointed at the pristine white ceiling.
“Go!” He collected the tray, cups and pot, clinking as he hurried away. “And, slave…” He stopped and turned to face the petite dominatrix.
“No toilet break and no masturbating. If I smell cock on your hands, I will whip you soundly and forbid masturbation for the entire week, you hear?”
His expression pained, he nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Now get out of my sight!” He turned and scurried from view.
Kitty grinned at Jackie. “You are too cruel.”
“Oh, my dear, he loves it. I’m considering allowing that one the pleasure of eating my prized…

Read more here: Mistress Kitty’s Thigh High Boots

Copyright Monica M. Martin 2007