Sir Vincent arrived at the private airfield attached to San Francisco International Airport in, as he himself would describe it, a cunt of a bad mood. The weather was far too hot for him, and he had a hangover that he couldn't shake. A tequila hangover of all things. He hadn't had a night on the slammers since his university days. And now he remembered why.

He clambered out of the back of the town car, closely followed by his personal secretary, Jasmine. She was also one of his favourite submissives. At five foot seven in heels, the twenty five year old Jamaican was also one of the most beautiful. The things that girl could do while humming ...

His sight fluxed as the pulse in his temples tried to put a half-nelson on his brain. It was so unlike him to get so hammered. In fact it was so unlike him that he thought he had scared Jasmine, who had after all only turned up at his hotel room late last night, hand carrying important business papers which required his immediate attention. Sir had always made it a point to show complete control in front of his subs, which is why it had seemed safe to consume so much being on his own. Now Jasmine had seen behind the veil, and Sir hoped that she would forgive him. Not that he had abused her in any way, but still. Sir drunk was not a pretty sight. He was not particularly proud of himself this morning.

Dark glasses hid his bloodshot eyes and cut down the glare which threatened to destroy his remaining brain cells. What he wouldn't give for a bacon sandwich and HP sauce right now, or even a full Scottish breakfast. Washed down with a few tins of Irn Bru. That would sort him out.

The chauffeur had packed all the luggage onto a trolley, and Jasmine was starting to push it towards the terminal.

Sir Vincent removed a Benjamin Franklin from his money clip and handed it to the chauffeur with his thanks. He turned to follow Jasmine. The hungover part of him said that what was the point of having a sub and pushing your own trolley, but the gentleman in him batted that aside.

"Jasmine, wait up please," he said in a loud enough voice for her to hear. He caught up with her. "I'll take the trolley," he explained. A flash of slight confusion passed across Jasmines eyes, but she still obeyed without questioning. "Yes Sir, of course Sir."

Jasmine moved to walk two strides behind and to the right of her Sir.
As they walked through the automatic doors they were hit by a cold blast of air con. Instead of helping Sir feel better it made his stomach lurch in rebellion. A line of cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

Time for drastic action. A disabled toilet beckoned. He left Jasmine guarding the trolley.

Sir stood facing the mirror. He swirled water around his mouth to try and get rid of the acrid taste of bile, second hand tequila and fresh vomit and splashed cold water over his face.

What the hell was he doing in such a state he wondered. His synapses weren't quite firing at full charge yet, as he cast his mind back and tried to chase down the reason.

Yes of course. He had known she would be at the Sanctuary last night, because her new Mistress had stated during his call to her that she would be. But the sense of loss when he saw her had cut deep. The most remarkable creature he had ever met. He had had her in his grasp and she had left him. And he had no-one to blame but himself. His vanity had cost him Gabrielle. She was now bought and paid for by Mistress Melissa. His assumption that she would not accept Mistress Melissa's offer was evidently ill-founded. His assumption that she had felt as strongly for him as he felt for her was ...

"Fucking arsehole," he exclaimed at his reflection.

And now he was going to spend the next three or four hours in close confines with her.

And then three or four days in a modern day Sodom and Gommorah.
Damn.

He removed his pale linen suit from the hook on the back of the door and got re-dressed.

Jasmine was glad to see that Sir Vincent was looking slightly less green when he returned from the restroom. Slightly more human. It had been a shock for her when he had opened the door to his suite last night. To see him in that state had taken her aback. In all her years at Sir Vincent's side she had never even heard a whisper of him losing control. Never mind to this level.

The white powder spread across the glass coffee table and the sharp knife had her almost in a flat panic, until she noticed the discarded tequila bottle, salt cellar and strips of half chewed lime rind. Not quite as bad as she had feared, but still very much unlike him. It was almost nice to see that there was a human side to him - not that she would be spreading the word around.

Jasmine had tidied up and put Sir to bed before laying out clothes for the morning. She had slept on the sofa, not what she had hoped for. What a waste it had been packing her new toys.

In the morning she had ordered Eggs Benedict and Devilled Kidneys with strong coffee for Sir. He had barely even looked at it.

She had remembered to get the paperwork signed, having only to explain the very basics to him. Normally he would have read from front to back and argued over the most minute of details or potentially ambiguous wording. This morning she could have got him to sign the family gold over to her if she had been that way inclined.

It wasn't until they were half way to the airport that Sir suddenly murmured "NetJets," and informed the driver to change their destination.

She still did not know what Sirs plans were, but knew that she had to file the legal papers in New York by the following morning. And her return flight was due to take off in less than two hours.

They met Mistress Melissa and Gabrielle at the NetJet check-in. When Mistress heard that Jasmine had to return to New York to file the paperwork she got on the phone to her own legal team. Her team had a close connection to Sir Vincent's legal team in Manhattan so it would be legally acceptable for Jasmine to file the paperwork with them any time before noon the following day. And that way Jasmine could join them to St. Louis for a few days r &r.

It was difficult to tell which of the three girls was more excited at this. Jasmine and Gabrielle looked fit to burst, while Mistress Melissa was trying not to fall down the front of Jasmines diaphanous white silk blouse and into the lacy white bra.

Sir thanked Mistress, and nodded towards the two girls.

"Will we let them?" he asked.

Mistress Melissa gave a small nod in reply, allowing Sir to give the command.

"Girls, you may spend some time catching up with each other before the flight. There's a table over by the window. "

"Thank you Sir" said Jasmine.

"Thank you Mistress," said Gabrielle.

Both girls bowed slightly to their superiors before squealing like little girls and hugging each other. They ran off to the table at the window holding hands and giggling. They both started talking fifteen to the dozen.

"It's great to see the kids playing, isn't it," said Sir wistfully.

"It is, " said Mistress, looking over her shoulder at them. "But it's much more fun to play with them.
"I hope you don't mind me asking Sir Vincent," she asked,"but are you okay?"

"I'll be fine thanks. I guess it must have been something I ate last night. "

Mistress looked him straight in the eye. The corner of her mouth twitched as she said, "Yeah, that little worm can be a bastard. "

Sir grinned. "I need strong coffee and bland food. I can't wait to get onboard."

Sir Vincent was glad that the cross country flight on the Gulfstream 200 was nice and smooth. Mistress Melissa was the perfect hostess, and the two of then chatted about everything from their favourite films to their best tips in stocks and shares. It was the first time that they had spent any time together other than by email or telephone.

Mistress Melissa was an amazing physical beauty, with a highly intelligent air about her. Her Central American roots were obvious to even the most casual observer, and she held herself in such a way that no-one could doubt her pedigree. There was obviously a very calculating brain in her 'pretty little head'. And Sir could tell that most people would just see the pretty little head and not see the incredible woman inside it. But they would be fools if they believed that was all there was to her.

Sir had obviously done his homework on Mistress Melissa, otherwise Gabrielle would have never been allowed to join her in the first place. He knew that even though she was stunning there was no point in him thinking he had any chance with bedding her. He simply had the wrong apparatus.

And Sir had no doubt that she had done her homework on him.

They left their subs to chat on the sofa at the back of the eight seater jet. Sir, facing forward, caught the occasional glance from Mistress towards the girls, and assumed that there was slightly more than just chatting going on. When they were serving from the kitchenette at the back of the jet they were highly professional submissives, but otherwise they were allowed to catch up with each other.

When they arrived at her mansion in St. Louis they were met by two of Mistress Melissa's maids. They were introduced as Mary and Ingrid. If Sir Vincent had not heard the tales then their nakedness might have surprised him.

Mary, tall, solidly built, auburn hair, a big, genuine smile to see her Mistress, Gabrielle and guests. Ingrid, not as tall, short peroxide hair, feisty looking with numerous tattoos including script covering her ribs. Although her love for Mistress was writ large in her eyes, the look that she shot Gabrielle was, for a fraction of a second, full of a mix of superiority and contempt. And almost before it could be noticed she was all pleasant again.

Sir noticed there was a hint of a bristle from Gabrielle too.

It would also appear that Mistress liked smooth - that worked for Sir too.

"Ingrid will be yours to command during your stay Sir Vincent," Mary informed him. "Anything, and I do mean anything, that you desire Sir."
Sir thanked her, and followed Ingrid to his assigned suite. Sir noticed that Jasmine followed Gabrielle, who glanced with disappointment back over her shoulder towards Him.

Arriving at his suite, Sir had a quick look around, impressed with the white marble opulence. The room was situated at the front of the house on the second floor , and had a glorious view showing St. Louis in the distance over a green leafy belt of trees which started past the immaculate lawn.

"May I get, or do, anything for you Sir Vincent?" Ingrid asked him.

"I must admit my dear that I had a bit of a skinful last night, and all that I hanker for at the moment is a wee bit of kip."

Ingrid looked confused for a second, but seemed to get the gist.

"Be a good wee lassie and bring me a triple decker bacon sarnie, a bottle of HP sauce and twa tins o' Irn Bru in a couple of hours," said Sir, laying on the accent with a heavy trowel.

"Eye-ern Baroo, Sir? I'm afraid that I don't know what that is," Ingrid said.

"It's a soft drink - a soda. Banned in Canada," said Sir, heading towards the bedroom. "And put some clothes on girl, ye'll catch yer death of cold."

He pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Ingrid to find some Irn Bru and HP sauce.

Exactly two hours later there came a knock on the door.

"Come in," shouted Sir, having exited his bedroom and finished buttoning his shirt.

Ingrid entered, beaming. She carried a silver tray with a triple decker bacon sandwich, a bottle of HP sauce, a large glass and an ice bucket filled with ice, with two tins of Irn Bru sitting on top.

Sir smiled. "The best hangover cure there is. Not that I'm too bad now, but I've had a craving since I woke this morning. A taste of home."

"Yes Sir, we have a Scotch restaurant in town who sent them round at Mistress' request. " Ingrid carried the tray over and left it on the small occasional table.

"Thank you Ingrid. If you would be so kind as to return when you have finished any chores that you have, I would like you to spend the evening with me. "

"Yes Sir, it would be my pleasure," she said. She curtsied slightly and left.

Sir Vincent sat down to his bacon buttie. He applied an ample amount of HP sauce and squashed the sandwich down to make it easier to get in his mouth. He opened the ice cold soda and inhaled the memories.

As he ate he re-read the text that Jasmine had sent him in reply to an earlier question.

When Ingrid next entered the suite at Sirs command it was dusk outside. Most of the lights were off in the room with two table lights supplying the illumination. The corners of the room were dark.

Sir sat on a chair, mostly in shadow. It was difficult for Ingrid to make out any facial expression.

"Come into the middle of the room please, where I can see you better, and please, you may remove your clothes this time. "

"Yes Sir, sorry Sir."

"No harm done. You may lay your clothes on the chair over there," said Sir Vincent, beckoning. Sir was glad to see that Ingrid looked nervous.

"I am led to believe that one of the main reasons that you were given to me this evening is that you are one of only two women resident here that enjoy cock," Sir said, matter-of-fact.

"I couldn't possibly say, Sir," Ingrid said, placing the last of her clothes on the chair and returning to stand in the centre of the room.

"And nor you should. Kneel," Sir commanded.

Ingrid obeyed instantly.

Sir lifted several things from the floor beside his chair and went to stand behind her. "Lift your head my girl," Sir ordered. When she complied Sir put a ball gag in her mouth and tied the strap behind her head. He then blindfolded her.

"Put your arms straight out in front of you." She felt Sir Vincent pulling sleeves up her arms and then wrapping coarse material tightly around her body. She could hear/feel straps being tied behind her. Sir then wrapped her arms behind her and used the long straps at the end of the sleeves to tie her arms securely in place. Ingrid had never been in a straitjacket before, and didn't like it.

"Just so that you don't get disappointed later, I'll tell you now that you are not going to experience my cock tonight. "

Ingrid sensed the crop in front of her just before the hard leather struck her across the breasts. She yelped in pain into the gag.

"Now, I've been informed by your Mistress that you are the most submissive of her girls, so I feel that safe words are not required."

Ingrid nodded her acceptance.

Sir walked behind her and used the crop on the soles of her feet. Ingrid almost fell over.

Sir pulled her upright, back to the kneeling position. "Do not move from here. "

Sir whipped her across the buttocks. A sharp intake of breath confirmed the sharpness of pain.

Sir placed a pair of noise cancellation headphones over Ingrids ears.

It was another five minutes until Sir touched her again. The anticipation was starting to affect her by then. Not knowing what was going to happen, nor when was starting to stress her. Out of nowhere Sir violently grabbed her short peroxide hair and pulled her head back.

The cold sharp metal of a blade was laid across her throat. Sir felt her tense, a small line of sweat broke out across her brow.

She was then left a further ten minutes before a hand slap across her face. While her head rang with the effects Sir exited the room, leaving her with her breath, pulse and fear to keep her company.

A dozen hands of poker with the semi-naked kitchen staff later, and over five hundred bucks down, Sir excused himself and quietly let himself back into his suite. He stood inside the room and watched her for a minute of two. It had to be said that she had managed to stay knelt like a real submissive. Her muscles twitched in rebellion, but still she stayed in place.

She had obviously zoned out, but Sir knew that the adrenalin would be just below the surface, ready to explode.

There were dried tears down her face.

Sir lifted her slowly with one finger underneath her chin. Her body juddered, her breathing ragged. When she was finally on her feet, balanced, Sir spread her feet slightly.

He took the same knife as before, the dinner service knife which had come with his sandwich earlier, and ran it up the inside of Ingrids thigh, from knee to pussy. As the cold metal blade came to rest against her labia she gave a little pleading shriek around the ball gag.

As Sir slowly removed the knife so that the point rested against Ingrids clitoris, her breathing quickened, her body convulsed, and her bladder gave way. Sir stepped back from the splashing on the carpet.

He went into the en-suite and turned the shower on, cold. He lay towels from the shower to where Ingrid stood, shivering, tears streaming down her face. With one finger under her chin he led her through and left her sitting in the cold shower, still blindfolded, gagged and bound in the straitjacket.

He returned to the living room and cleaned up the mess with one of the towels, soap and water. The idea was not to embarrass Ingrid in front of her peers. There would, however, be a wet patch.

When he was finished he returned to the en-suite and slowly turned the temperature up, until it was a nice warm temperature. He then removed the straitjacket and handed Ingrid the soap. By now she was sobbing with relief. Her fingers gravitated towards her pussy, to make sure that Sir Vincent had not cut her. She was obviously surprised by the lack of pain.

Sir removed her wet blindfold, and she checked her fingers, surprised that there was no blood.

Sir left her too it, and went to sit in the living room. He texted Jasmine and asked her for some new photographs of her gorgeous Jamaican pussy. He was not disappointed. Gabrielle's fingers and tongue even managed to make an appearance.

Sir Vincent was out running the next morning by six o'clock. Not wanting to get lost in the surrounding district due to a lack of sense of direction he instead circled the grounds until he had worked up a healthy sweat. He retired for a shower, exiting as a knock came to the door.

He answered, still wet, but wrapped in a fresh towel. Mistress Melissa stood there.

"I hope you don't mid, Sir Vincent, but I invited myself for breakfast."
So saying she strode into the suite, followed by two women who Sir had not met.

"Please, come in. If you'll excuse me for a minute I'll throw some clothes on."

Sir dressed quickly, donning a linen shirt and pale slacks. He rejoined Mistress barefoot, with his short hair still damp.

Over the most exquisite fruit salad, coffee and toasted croissants with strawberry and champagne jelly they discussed their plans for the day. Mistress Melissa had business to attend to in the city, as she knew Jasmine did. She offered to share a ride with Jasmine, and after they were both dropped off she would send Trina back with the car to pick Sir up, and she would be his to command for the day, as long as they could pick Mistress up after her business was concluded for the day.
That sounded like a splendid idea, Sir thought.

"As my father used to say, never mix business with pleasure, unless it's buying golf courses. "

Sir spent the day seeing the sights of St. Louis, a city he had never visited before. Trina was at his disposal, although as the driver in a city that he didn't know, he had no problems in following her suggestions.

Jasmine phoned at eleven to inform Sir that the papers had been filed and confirmed with his New York law firm. Sir gave her various options - it was now her free time, but she chose to join Sir at the St. Louis Art Museum. She managed to find him in the American Artists section, engrossed in some 1950s classic art.
They spent the day together, eating at the Scottish restaurant that Ingrid had mentioned the previous afternoon. They then spent the afternoon in the Science Centre. Sir promised to take Jasmine shopping the following afternoon to make up for it. Jasmine laughed - she actually enjoyed art galleries and museums, but she wasn't going to turn down a shopping trip on Sirs card.

That evening Sir stood, surrounded by the rich and kinky of St. Louis. Mistress Melissa's Factory club had been custom refurbished to cater to BDSM tastes. There were various rooms available for varying tastes. From small and intimate right up to the large open planned hall in which Sir now spoke. He first thanked Mistress Melissa for her renowned hospitality, and complimented their delightful and delicious city. He also complimented the architect who had designed the club, and commented on the fact that it was the best club he had ever had the privilege of attending. This met with a large round of applause and cheers, and a wide grin across Mistress Melissa's face.

He raised his crystal whiskey glass in cheers, and swallowed the cool burning sweet Drambuie in toast. He handed the empty glass to an invisible servant.

Jasmine knelt at his side on a central dais, emerald and silver filigree collar around her neck. All around him Doms and Dommes sat facing him with their subs kneeling beside them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, kinksters, doms, dommes, subs, cum-buckets .... whatever titles you wish on yourselves - it is customary on such fine occasions as tonight, when you welcome me with open arms, for me to return something unique, or educational to you all. It's not always possible to come up with something unique, but I feel that I may have this evening. If we can have the lights on please ...." The lights came on. Sir indicated to two scantily clad men who stood at the side of the dais. They rolled out a large canvas, ten feet by twenty.

"May I borrow two subs to help?" Sir asked.

There was a chattering, a murmering, between the dominants. Mistress Melissa was almost out of her chair with anticipation. She turned to her submissive for the evening, Gabrielle, and spoke softly to her. Gabrielle replied without changing her submissive demeanour.

"I promise, ladies and gentlemen, that there will be no blood."

Mistress Melissa ordered Gabrielle to join Jasmine on the stage. A ripple of applause ensued. Mistress settled back to watch, most intrigued.
Sir smiled at Gabrielle as he offered her a hand to join him on stage. He had hoped that Mistress would allow her to join him, because, with the exception of the dog show where she had earned her nickname of the Million Dollar Bitch, he had not spent any quality time with her.

A very handsome, toned young male sub also joined them to applause, kneeling on the dais alongside the two girls.

"If you would care to lie in a line, evenly spaced. You can decide yourself if you want to be spread-eagled or not."

They all chose to be spread-eagled, lying face up, naked.

"Now, while they are doing that, I need other equipment to be set up. "
He beckoned one of the helpers, who brought forward three large plastic bags.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you had asked me this morning what I would be doing here this evening I would have said that I would probably do an educational piece about playing with electricity, and variations on purple wands and adjustable voltages. But something changed my mind, and instead I'm going to use fire."

There were a few gasps from the crowd, and from the stage too.
Sir Vincent withdrew a blowtorch from his bag, and lit it to make sure it worked. Jasmine looked serene and trusting, the other two models not so much.

"I was fortunate this morning to be able to peruse your city's great art museum. I must confess that being from across the pond I have always preferred European art, Impressionism probably being my favourite ism. But today I really started to appreciate another ism."

Sir was removing a number of big, thick, colourful cylindrical objects from the bags and placing them between the canvas and the audience. A dozen candles of varying colours. Four black, three grey, two brown, two yellow and one white. Each eighteen inches tall, with a diameter of six inches.

"No, Madam, it's not what you think - but I'm sure they'll allow you to do that up here another evening," he smiled, winking at one of the Dommes in the front row. She smiled back at the peel of laughter.

"I must confess that the blowtorch is a bit of theatre. If you want to do this at home a match will suffice, but my time in the spotlight is limited this evening. You can take your time."
So saying Sir lit the blowtorch, adjusting until he had a bright blue flame. He then went around lighting each of the candles.

"As I was saying, I never really had an appreciation of American art before today. But I found some magnificent Chuck Close paintings, very colourful Max Beckmann, and various others. But they were really nothing new, I have seen similar pieces elsewhere. Paintings of people in various forms. But for the first time I allowed myself to see something new.

"

Sir picked up a black candle in both hands, and threw the melted wax across the canvas and the three subs at chest height. They all tried not to react as the hot wax struck, but the surprise of it was too much. They would do better next time.

There were gasps of surprise and excitement from the audience.

"Yes, I have long passed by his work before, believing him to be only the butt of Cockney rhyming slang - wot a load of old Jacksons. "

There was a mixture of laughter and confusion.

"But just today I realised how new and fresh and well, just how fucking American it is. It's not a style borrowed from someone else, it was discovered, invented, here. In the land of the free. Like basketball and American football. And cheese in a can."

A splash of wax from the second black candle still caught them unprepared. Jasmine moaned with pleasure.

"Yes, abstract expressionism. We had a very similar artist in my homeland, Joan Eardley, but no-where as famous, and she started with painting bairns in post-war Glasgow."

Sir re-lit the first candle, melting a good amount with the blow torch, before casting the wax across the three naked forms, this time across their thighs. Their self control was much better this time, although there was a part of the male sub that he couldn't control totally.

"Hmmm, impressive," said Sir, "must be good."

Sir dripped wax over the subs erection, to wide spread applause. The sub remained motionless.

"Bravo, I think he deserves a round of applause for that ...." Sir raised his voice over the noise, "and I don't think it would be fair if only the boy was given that pleasure..."

Twenty minutes later all three subs were covered in layers of black, grey, brown and yellow wax, splashed in a seemingly random series of squiggles, the amount of colour gradually getting less as the layers built up. Sir had covered their faces with comic masks so that there was no chance of damaging delicate eyes nor obstructing breathing. Minnie Mouse, Homer Simpson and The Queen.

"We are at our last layer, ladies and gentlemen, the white layer. When this is done we will have our own variation of Pollocks great No 3, 1950."

As Sir added the penultimate touches, there was a general murmuring from the crowd, eager to see the finished piece. The subs were no longer affected by the wax, as they had so much built up on them.

"almost finished..." Sir muttered to himself. "Damn, not enough white wax. "

Sir stroked his grey goatee in contemplation. He very quickly came to a decision.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a slight problem that I hope you will help me with in a moment. But first of all I would appreciate a large round of applause for the willing victims ... I mean volunteers ..." Sir led the rapturous applause himself.

As the applause rang out he offered the three subs his hand in turn, after removing their masks. First Jasmine stood, and was hugged by Sir. Secondly the male sub, whom Sir thanked profusely. The sub beamed. And lastly Gabrielle. She came forward for a hug, as she had seen Jasmine. Sir backed away ever so slightly. There was a pained look in his eye. "I'm sorry," he whispered so that only Gabrielle heard, "but it is not my place without express permission. I stupidly ...." He stopped. He couldn't allow himself to speak out of turn. Gabrielle looked confused. And disappointed.
Sir regained his composure and turned back to the audience.

"While the 'volunteers' break and remove the wax from their bodies I would ask all the male viewers and any required helpers to join me on stage. It's time for the audience to provide their own splashes once the subs have re-taken their places. And please - remove your shoes ...."

As the rush to add their DNA to the piece of art commenced, Sir left the stage and joined Mistress Melissa.
Not all of the audience left their seats. Some simply had their subs move round and nestle between their knees.

"That appeared to go well," Sir Vincent said.

"Well? They will talk of this evening for years to come, I promise you Sir Vincent. Thank you. Club members in other cities will be disappointed they did not make it here tonight when they hear of this."

Sir nodded his thanks. "I had a word with the art shop owner, and they will be in tomorrow to varnish and mount the finished picture for your wall. Just don't tell them about ...." Sir indicated the mass of bodies adding their own artistic expression.

The three subs could be seen through limbs, soaking up almost as much of the additional white 'wax' as was landing on the canvas.

"Don't you wish to ...." Mistress Melissa indicated towards the bukake scene in front and above them.

"No thank you, I'm more of a one-to-one person. Or occasionally one-to-two. "

When the last shot had been fired, spontaneous applause and cheering broke out. Whooping and cheering. Laughing and crying.

The three subs stood, dripping cum, and moved from the canvas.

"Shall we go see the finished piece?" Sir asked, standing and offering his hand to Mistress Melissa. The other 'artists' made space around the edge.

They stepped up and surveyed the finished cum stained wax masterpiece. Very reminiscent of the original on which it was based, except for the three almost completely blank, spread-eagled negative spaces where the subs had been.

Mistress Melissa was, oddly for her, speechless.

Sir removed a large Sharpie pen and signed the bottom right corner with a flourish.

Vincent.

It was no wonder, Sir Vincent thought to himself as he stared at the pair of sevens in his hand, that he was another twelve hundred bucks down tonight. Trying to concentrate on cards was impossible with such beautiful breasts on display all around him. And those long stockinged legs. Right up to those sweet round cheeks.

Mistress Melissa sure knew how to pick her kitchen staff, and the correct uniform for them too. There were twice as many on shift tonight. Funny that.

Still, he had a bit more money in his wallet to lose before retiring for the night .....

Sir Vincent woke to a knock on the door. He dragged himself out of bed, threw a dressing gown on and answered the door to a mostly naked serving girl. A tray of breakfast was delivered consisting of a stack of maple syrup smothered pancakes with bacon strips, a bowl of grapefruit segments, coffee, cream, orange juice and a copy of the mornings New York Times.
There was also a folded note.

"Thank you Desiree. I do hope that you're not expecting a tip, because you cleared me out last night."

"No Sir, sorry Sir," Desiree said, backing towards the door, trying to keep a straight face.

"But it was worth it to see .... you in such attire," Sir Vincent said with a glint in his eye. He gave her a playful spank on her bare cheeks.

Desiree sniggered as she left the room.

Sir smiled as he started the pancakes. He opened the note and read :
'Sir Vincent,
Apologies for not mentioning this yesterday, but if you desire,Gabrielle will be available to spend the day with you after she has finished her chores.
If that is acceptable to you, then may I request that I may be allowed the pleasure of Jasmines company this evening. She does appear to be most delightful, and I would love to get to know her better.
MM
ps please feel free to use Trina and the car again. "

Sir mused. It would be nice to spend some quality time one to one with Gabrielle, but he wasn't convinced that it was necessarily a good idea.

Immediately after breakfast Sir took Jasmine shopping as promised. A number of sexy ensembles from Victorias Secrets were purchased in plum, white and a gorgeous torquoise that complimented Jasmines dark skin tones. She was given permission to wear some of her new purchases for Mistress Melissa this evening.

On hearing this Jasmine squealed with delight, as she had been hoping to be allowed to spend some time with the beautiful and renowned Mistress. She was known for having a prolific equipment room and a voracious appetite.

They had Trina return to pick up Gabrielle, and Sir bought all three girls a lunch of wraps and Coke underneath the famous Gateway Arch. This magnificent arched monument stood six hundred and thirty feet high and was seen from miles around.

Gabrielle obviously had formed a bond with Trina, who managed to persuade her with Sirs permission that she didn't need to go sit in the car, but could join them to see the view from the top of the Arch.

The views were breathtaking, with the modern skyscrapers of the city on one side and suburbia and the ancient rural countryside on the other.

Sir had to pull himself out of a touch of melancholy that hit him suddenly when he realised he would be returning to New York in the morning. He loved his chosen home, but this was definitely a city that he would love to come back and explore when he had the time.

Sir and Mistress had dinner together. Mistress presented Sir with a black card with Factory imprinted in platinum. It was a very rare 'access-all-areas' pass to the club. Since the previous evening membership queries had come flooding in from far and wide, due almost exclusively to videos and stills of the evening that had been uploaded to specialist web sites.

"I do believe that you may have invented a new type of fetish art. Perhaps you should patent the technique ..." Mistress Melissa said.

"And charge people to have fun? No, I couldn't do that. Mmmmm. Or could I?" he winked playfully at Mistress.

Mistress laughed. "And how much would that make the original worth, I wonder ..."

They spoke for a long time, lingering over dessert and coffee.

"Have you discussed with Jasmine about spending the evening with me?" Mistress asked.

"I have indeed. She is most keen, having heard all about your .... appetites ..." Sir replied.

"Does she have any hard limits?" Mistress asked.

"Not that I have ever reached, but then our tastes are somewhat different. What about Gabrielle? How is her training coming along?"

"The most natural I have ever come across. And believe me, I have cum across her a lot," said Mistress with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye.

Sir laughed.

"As you know Sir Vincent, myself and most of the ladies in this establishment are lesbians. There is no male presence here under normal circumstances, and my subs are not allowed to fraternise with men except under my express command. If you wish I can give that command to Gabrielle for the evening."

"That would be very much appreciated, thank you. Ultimately it is your house, so your rules. However it would be somewhat unfair if you were to enjoy the fruits of my submissive without allowing me to enjoy the fruits of yours. Speaking of which, how is Ingrid? I haven't seen her for the past two days."

"To be honest, she's been quite ... reserved ... for the past few days," Mistress said thoughtfully.

Sir simply nodded with a slight smirk.

Mistress nodded back. Nothing more needed said on that matter.

When they were finished their coffee they exchanged subs, with the semi-formality that you would reserve for exchanging Christmas presents.

Jasmine wore her new torquoise silk basque, stockings and panties. Her collar had been removed for the evening. Mistress sighed when she was presented to her. "Exquisite," she murmured.

Gabrielle was dressed in a white see-through babydoll. She wore nothing underneath. Her feet and legs were also bare. Mistress Melissa removed her black and diamond collar.

Gabrielle looked startled for a second, like a rabbit caught in headlights, but calmed quickly when Mistress told her everything was okay.

With her hands held in front of her and her head bowed she would have looked a paragon of innocence if she wasn't so fucking sexy. Squeezing those beautiful breasts together, perky pink erect nipples pointing right at him Sir could feel his cheeks blush and his scrotum tighten.

"Thank you Mistress Melissa. May I suggest we open our presents in private?"

Sir Vincent had been slowly getting more tense throughout the day. He hoped that it hadn't been obvious.
He had been dreaming of this moment for weeks, but had convinced himself that the opportunity had passed him by. Now that he was actually leading Gabrielle to his suite, he found himself with sweaty hands like a virgin Catholic schoolboy, feeling guilty of his thoughts. Feeling guilty about the throbbing in his pants. About the desires that coursed through his body. It was a long time since he had experienced butterflies like this.

They entered Sirs suite. Sir commanded Gabrielle to kneel. She obeyed, just short of the damp patch in the carpet.

Sir sat on a chair in front of her and looked at her. "You clean this room, don't you?"

"Yes Sir," Gabrielle said, head bowed.

Sir grinned. He could hear the smile in her voice. "Thank you Sir."

After a few minutes of contemplation and awkward silence Sir Vincent stood abruptly.

"Follow me," he said and marched out of the door, and down the stairs. Gabrielle tried to keep up. Sir waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. When she arrived, she looked panicked.

"It's alright, you've done nothing wrong," Sir said. "Do you trust me?"

There was a slight hesitation from Gabrielle.

"Exactly," he said, and marched through the ground floor and out the back door. Ahead of him was the swimming pool.

Dusk was upon them and the stars were coming out. The automatic lighting system picked up their movement and lit up the area surrounding the swimming pool.
Sir Vincent sat on a sun lounger and beckoned to Gabrielle to sit opposite him.

"Don't look so worried. Do you know why I took us down here?" he asked.

"No Sir, I don't," she answered hesitantly.

Fire bugs and bats were waking up. Chirps and cheeps and squeaks could be heard from the surrounding countryside. The heat of the day was leaving them.

"I had to take you away from my domain. In that suite I was the Dom and you the sub. But I don't want that. "

Gabrielle looked confused.

"What I want right now is Gabrielle, the person that I first met online, not the submissive. Because I want honesty, not servitude. I want the truth. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir Vincent. I understand what you want, but I just don't understand why," Gabrielle said, raising her head from the bowed position.

"That's better," Sir said, looking into her eyes and smiling. Gabrielle blinked, and smiled back, a genuine smile.

The whole dynamic of their relationship changed in that moment.

"For years," Sir started, "I've been a Dom. I have been respected by my peers. I have tried to innovate where possible, as I believe you saw last night. "

Gabrielle beamed. "Yes Sir, thank you for allowing me to be a part of that."

Sir nodded and got back to his narrative. "I have dominated hundreds of submissives in my time, male, females and very occasionally somewhere in between. I have also met literally thousands of other peoples subs. But none of them have made me feel like you do." He paused.

"If I may speak Sir ... Before I met you online I had dabbled with the idea of submission. But everyone I had met just seemed to be sadists or bullies - no-one else had ever explained it to me like you did. About the power sharing, the ebb and flow. The chance to enjoy every sensation without wondering if it was right or wrong. Guilt free pleasure - the greatest gift that anyone ever gave me. And that was you, Sir. Thank you so much.

"And then I met you, and you just exuded dominance. Exuded sex appeal. You exceeded my expectations by so much. And then you paraded me in a dog show and made me the most famous submissive in the world. The Million Dollar Bitch. There are websites and Facebook pages .... None of which I have started ...

"And you protected me. Not only from the other dog, but from being purchased by owners that I didn't want. Because I wanted you. I wanted to be owned by you.

"But then .... Am I okay to continue Sir?"

"Of course, I want you to. I asked for honesty," Sir confirmed. He noticed that the temperature was dropping and that Gabrielle was starting to shiver. He unbuttoned and removed his shirt and put it around her shoulders. She smiled gratefully and pulled it tight around her.

"Thank you Sir. But then you," she took a big breath, "well you left me alone in your home, before casting me out to here, before discarding me completely. You took me up so high and then threw me away. You ask me if I trust you, Sir, but I don't know if I can! You sold me for a donation to a Burro Sanctuary. I felt betrayed. Please tell me how I can trust you Sir. Because I want to. I truly do."
Gabrielle's head drooped before picking up again and looking Sir right in the eye, as if demanding a reply.

Sir smiled. "Thank you for being honest with me. I appreciate it."

He stood up and started pacing. Gabrielle stood up too, to show him that she wouldn't allow him to dominate her at this moment - if she was expected to be honest, then she couldn't be submissive as well. She didn't know that she was going up in Sirs estimation as she did so.

"First of all, please let me apologise. I had hoped to spend a lot of one to one time with you the week after we returned from the auction. But, truth be told, and I'd appreciate you keeping this quiet, but the FBI were investigating me on slavery charges. They apparently had someone, I don't know who, at the auction and assumed that we were in the slave trade. There were others of course who made purchases, but how could they not investigate the Million Dollar Bitch? It would have been spectacular news would it not?

"So most of that week was in interviews with the feds and discussions with my legal team. I can only apologise, once again, that your own needs were forgotten about, but I promise you that I was doing my best not to get you involved in the investigation. "

"I had no idea..."Gabrielle said in a very small voice.

"Good, because you weren't meant to. Subsequently I had a lot of business associates asking questions all over the country, which is why for the past few weeks I have been flying hither and thither talking to them face-to-face to reassure them. "

"Sorry Sir, hither and ....?"

".... Thither. It just means 'here and there'. So, suddenly realising that you had been left to your own devices for so long, when the Red Goddess requested your company and offered to train you some, how could I not accept, knowing that I would be away for so long. She does have a most formidable reputation, you know."

"Oh, I know," Gabrielle smiled. "And rightly so."

"So you're with me so far? Good. So, donkeys .....

"Mistress Melissa phoned me while I was on the road after you had been here a few days. It appeared that she had fallen for you. In much the same way that I had. She offered to buy you from me. I refused. "

Gabrielle looked at Sir skeptically.

"It's true. I refused. I was looking forward to getting home and spending time with you and finding out how your training was going. However, she kept telling me how well you were enjoying your time with her, and that she believed the Sapphic lifestyle suited you so well.

"So I .... I made a mistake. Assuming that, first of all you weren't a lesbian, and secondly felt more of an attachment to me than her, I suggested that she let you choose. It was to be your decision."

Gabrielle looked unconvinced. "But, the donkeys ..?"

Sir laughed. "From a bitch to an ass, eh?"

Gabrielle couldn't help but laugh too.

"Mistress insisted on paying me, but I told her that I wasn't interested in payment if you chose to join her. Again she insisted, so I told her that only if she absolutely insisted she could help support one of the charities that I support. When I was a child my mother used to sponsor a donkey in a Donkey Sanctuary in the south of the country that took on abandoned donkeys and taught disabled kids to ride. Whenever I've had money available I've always tried to do the same.

"So there you have it," Sir said, turning so that he faced her. She had tears running down her face and a big beaming smile.

Some things didn't need to be said - she was Mistress Melissa's sub now. But she had been given permission for this evening.

Gabrielle stepped towards Sir and took his face gently in her hands. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him passionately on the lips. She knew she was probably overstepping a boundary here. But she didn't care.

And judging by the heat of the returned kiss and the arms that pulled into his naked chest, Sir wasn't too worried about the boundary either.

"Mmmm... unwrap me," Gabrielle said when their lips finally parted.
"One evening with the man who made me a sub. One evening with the man who put me in a dog show, who made me the Million Dollar Bitch. One evening to submit to his desires, to obey his commands, to kneel before him, to do things that a man wants done. Please Sir, allow me the thrill, the honour of submitting to your will for the night. "

Gabrielle dropped to her knees beside the pool, pulled down his zip and eased Sirs cock from out of his tightening pants. She teased him mercilessly for a few minutes with hands and tongue before slowly taking all of him into her mouth. Her hands were behind him, a buttock in each palm, nails digging into flesh, working up a rhythm as she fought against her gag reflex. Forcing Sir to slam his cock down her throat made her wet, had her nipples straining against the gossamer white material of her babydoll lingerie. Sirs hands grasped her hair and thrust hard, knowing instinctively that she wanted to be at his mercy. As the tension built and the throbbing started in his balls he thrust hard and held his cock as far down her throat as he could, looking her in the eye as he pulsed his seed into her. He could feel her gagging and desperate to breathe, but he held her there until the last drops had gone. He then withdrew, softening as Gabrielle kissed his length while she breathed deeply, trying to fill her lungs with fresh air. "Thank you Sir, thank you," she said between breaths and kisses.

Sir bade her stand and follow him back to his suite, where he threw her down on the bed and tied her using the manacles that Mistress had thoughtfully supplied.

The taste of Gabrielle's kiss was heart stopping. But it was nothing to the taste of her smooth pink pussy. Sir had a special treat for her, as he threw one leg over each shoulder. Popping candy. Spread liberally on his tongue, it was already popping when he started to lick. The crackle of the candy spread tingles across her moist lips, around her clit and right to the core of her. She came quickly, tensing around Sirs tongue, which was when Sir put his dampened finger into the packet of candy and thrust it right up her ass covered in the sweet tingling, almost electric, sensation.

Gabrielle had had various items inserted anally before, most of them bigger than Sirs finger, but never something that caused her ass and pussy to contract so quickly. When joined to the orgasm she was already having it made her cunt spasm, her ass slam shut and a fierce orgasmic tidal wave to course through her very being. Her moans turned to screams turned to laughs as she sprayed all over Sirs face, her squirted juices dripping off his nose and chin, soaking his goatee. Sir smiled.

Once she had stopped and relaxed enough that he could remove his finger, he climbed on top, having re-discovered his vigour. His short beard dripped onto Gabrielle's tongue, and she followed the drips back up and licked Sirs face as he slid balls deep into her wetness.

There was still enough residual candy left that neither of them lasted long before their orgasms had them gripped together.

They lay like that, sweaty, exhausted and covered in each others love juices, smiling from ear to ear.

Eventually Sir unclamped Gabrielle's wrists and ankles, and they showered together, cleansing each other and bringing each other back to life.

"Has Sir seen Mistress' play room?" Gabrielle asked while her legs were being rubbed dry with a big fluffy white towel.

Sir leaned forward and kissed her proud clit. Gabrielle gasped.

"No I haven't sweet sub. Should I?"

"Oh yes Sir. Please Sir ..."

After Sirs fourth orgasm of the night and Gabrielle's thirteenth they returned to Sir's suite and lay exhausted in his bed. Sir stroked Gabrielle's whelts and blew cold breath across her bright red ass cheeks. He had taken a large peacock feather from the play room and slowly stroked her breasts, her magnificent nipples and her back, flipping her over and back and over and back.

They laughed a lot and smiled until their faces hurt. Eventually they fell asleep, Sir the big spoon and Gabrielle the little spoon.