Edipol! 

I heard the curse and then a throaty chuckle. 

"Max? Are you ready to go? I don't know how long Corrine will save us a table!" 

I stood at the front door, keys in hand, eyeballing my watch. Before I could call out again, Max emerged from our bedroom and grinned sheepishly. Had my empty stomach not been in control of my body, I would have read more into that grin and made an inquiry.

"Full?" I asked as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his belly like a sated bear. 

"I think I can find room for a slice of apple pie..." 

I don't know if Max accepts the visits with me for ME or for Corrine's cooking. 

This hole in the wall restaurant named "Granny's Front Porch" has been in her family for three generations, serving the best home cooked (fried) platters this side of the Mississippi. Max had just shoveled in some fried catfish, hush puppies, slaw, fried green tomatoes, and 4 glasses of sweet iced tea, served in a huge Mason jar. I'll never get his food-comatose ass off the couch this evening.

"I can't keep it to myself any longer." 

"Keep what?" 

His eyes met mine and his face - was that a blush? "That chest, at the foot of our bed*... Those things..." 

I nearly choked on my pie. When I could speak, "Surely you've seen appliances of that sort before, Max...in your day, I think they were used in-" 

"I am aware of what they were used for - what are you doing with them?" 

"Why Max, are you playing coy with me? Don't all you brothers have me and Hando figured out?" I think I was injecting a bit more venom than I intended. "Don't you know how sick we both are that we indulge in pleasures such as those-"

Shaking his head, "You know better than that. I'm not judging you - or him. I was merely curious." 

Frustrated sigh. "I know Max. I apologize - I just get weary of the comments." 

"I would think that you know better or me by now." 

Evil, grin, "I know you very well." 

My innuendo was not lost on him. His hooded eyes drew darker and I knew it was time... 

"So, are those only for you and Hando? Have you used them on anyone else...?" 

His questions were incessant. Surely, someone of Max's history wouldn't be interested in the tools of submission and domination. "No." I left it at that. 

Like an inquisitive boy, he breached the void with his next question, "Will you show me?" 

"Max, I don't think this is something that you would enjoy. It takes a fair amount of control and trust and-" I was loathe to finish my thought. 

"And?" 

"Max - I don't think you would fare well as a submissive under my mastery. It's not something one would enter into lightly." 

"Are you telling me that you are the Mistress and Hando is the submissive when you play this game?" The incredulous shock on his face was almost comical.

"Not always, but Hando is the only person I am submissive for. If you were to enter into this with me, you would most certainly be my slave." I hoped that term would shut off this discussion. Honestly, I had not donned my Mistress attire since before the big blow-up and reconciliation with my Mate. Becoming takes a measured period of meditation and soul cleansing.

He scoffed and tilted his head back, peering down to me as a General would to a subordinate. "You think me not worthy, do you?" 

"Worthy? Yes. Compliant? No." 

"What? What do you mean-" 

SMACK. 

Max quickly had me on the floor, hand clamped on my throat, fist poised in the air for maximum damage. I suppose he didn't appreciate the backhand that I dealt to his face.

I wasn't in the least surprised by his action. I calmly lay there, waiting... 

Max is no fool. I saw the look of realization in his eye and he retreated. 

"Are we done with this conversation, Maximus? I'd like to take an aspirin for my head, now." 

"Tina, I am sorry, but-" 

"No buts, Max - this sort of thing is not for you and I. This display just proved it. There are other forms of pleasure more suited for us." 

I had returned to my feet, but he didn't follow. Instead, he dropped his eyes to the floor and crawled to me, stopping to bow at my feet - his forehead, touching the ground. I was stunned.

"Please, mercy. I only want to serve." 

What should I do? I had the general of the North Armies at my feet. What would 

Bou say? I rather enjoyed having Max as Max. Like I preferred Hando as Hando. Women's lib be damned, I liked having alpha males such as them use me as they would. It was a diversion from my normally singular alpha bitch persona that I relished.

Why on earth would Hando enjoy this you may ask? He uses it as a proof of his trust in me. Frankly, he is a good submissive. Eager to please for whatever reward I choose to bestow on him.

What of Max? Why does he want this? His eyes tell me this means more than folly to him. He isn't doing this because I want it of him. 

"Why? Why do you wish to serve me, slave?" 

He kept his position at my feet. "To learn. To understand what it means to be belong to someone else freely." 

"You already have that, slave. You can't see the oasis for the sand. Why should 

I waste my time on someone so ignorant?" 

"Bou. You mean Bou?" 

I began to pace back and forth before the subject on the floor. "How quickly he ingests that which is spoonfed to him." I saw his jaw set. He began to raise his head up, but then caught himself before he thought I noticed. 

"All these moons you've spent with your mate and you still don't understand what it's about. Binding yourself to another for eternity requires a submissive spirit from the man and the woman, no matter what sort of profession you choose. It seems that lesson has escaped you all these years, no? "

"Yes, Mistress." 

"I will grant you my services this one time, for Bou - not for you. To submit means to trust. This sort of trust requires control. Can you do this? Can you turn off that inbred militant idealism? Can you be the man that Bou needs?"

"Yes, Mistress." 

"We will see about that. For now, we must prepare. Follow me." 

This wasn't what I had in mind for our liaison, visit - whatever the fuck you call it. I always feel drained and useless afterwards. I was needing this time with Max to derive direction, to heal. So many things have floated to the surface of my mind during the sessions with Hando and his shrink. I had begun to feel like Hando was the sane one and I was the nutcase. Alas, with someone like Max, kowtowing at my feet - how could I refuse him?

I led him to our bedroom and directed him to remove his clothing and to eliminate if needed. I blindfolded him and turned him around a few times left, then right (to disorient him, if possible). I directed him to kneel and touch his nose to the floor as I tied his wrists together at the small of his back.

"You will stay there and reflect while I go prepare." Silence. Swat - I popped his rear with my riding crop - gently. "You will respond with "Yes, Mistress" when I give you a command, slave."

"Yes, Mistress." I noticed the riddle of goose pimples that waved over his skin when I corrected him. He'd be easy. 

I meditated for the measured amount of time needed to become. Roughly 2 hours. I slipped into my leathers after bathing myself in fragrant oil and water. I pulled my hair back into a severe braid and retreated to our bedroom. The awkward position he had been left in had taken its toll. His entire naked form was bathed in sweat. He was ripe for the picking. I had nixed the idea of tying him up out in the shop. Although Hando likes to be corrected with the whip in that fashion, it may not be the thing that Max needs at the moment.

"Stand up." Very slowly, with strained and weary muscles, he obeyed. I guided him to the bed and removed the rope from his wrists. "Lie down." I tied him to the four corners of the bed by this thumbs and large toes. I know he expected to be restricted by the wrists (and you did too!) but I prefer this method with those who are used to such bonds. It makes the submissive more aware of the restraints when the slip knot tightens as they pull.

What surprised me is the fact that Maximus was sporting an EMHO** woody and I hadn't done a thing to him. I'd love to say that being with me was the cause of such an impressive display of virility, but I knew better. He was blindfolded and his sense of hearing, smell, and touch were ever heightened. The thought of not knowing what was to happen next was the cause. A magnificent hard-on. Was he allowing it on purpose? Surely he has more control over himself than this. Could it be a pathetic short-coming of being a man? Thank the goddess that I'm a woman.

I leaned in and whispered the safe word in his ear. I succinctly explained that the word stops the game. No embarrassment or disappointment results in the use of the word. This is not a power-play to see how much you can endure, it is a simple exploration of your control and submission. He nodded understanding and I took my place as Mistress.

Maximus proved to be a willing and eager student. Had I realized exactly who it was I was dealing with, I would have faltered and thrown myself at his feet and begged him to take me like the whore I was.

"Have you been a good slave?" 

"Yes, Mistress," he squeaked. 

Swat! "I'm sorry - I didn't understand you..." 

"YES, Mistress." The skin on his thighs, chest, and cheeks was pink with my little love taps. I decided it was time to push him a bit further before drawing our session to an end.

I began caressing the tender skin on the inside of his thighs with the leather tassel on the end of the crop. I tapped gently, but enough to make him flinch. I smoothed over his heavy sac and drew it up the length of his rigid, near purple cock. The hiss of breath through clenched teeth and the sweat pouring off his body was telling me all I needed to know. He was primed. He was strung tighter than a Stradivarius.

"I guess I can grant you one little gift, slave. Are you ready?" 

"Yes, Mistress" 

I plucked a candle from the nightstand and carefully dripped wax around his nipples and on the now tender skin surrounding his jewels. 

"Yess, my Mistressssss. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.... Unnnnh." 

(What you may not know, reader, is that Max and I stumbled upon his hot wax fetish quite by accident. Too much wine, too close to the candles...the rest is history!)

"You want to come, don't you slave?" 

"Grrrrr, Yes, Mistress" 

"You may not." 

"Please, Mistress, may I?" 

I ramped up the frustration by running the crop up and down his spectacularly colored manhood. 

Maximus cried out and shot hot, thick seed all over the bed and himself. He began to sob and begged me not to punish him. 

Like a good, nurturing Mistress, I climbed up into the bed and soothed him, planting butterfly kisses on his face - cleaning his tears away. I removed his restraints, massaging the feeling into his numb toes and thumbs. He was soon fast asleep, exhausted from our session. I left him to recover.

Hours later, I entered the site of our BD/sm tryst with warm water and towels to remove the remnants of our earlier game. I was no longer dressed in leathers; I had donned a pseudo-gauze tunic, reminiscent of the house slaves of Max's time. I had relaxed my mood with wine, approaching a certain even keel - no longer the Mistress - not yet my typical self.

My ministrations had caused the lion to roll to his back and stretch out, displaying himself unprotected. I finished up, removing the wax and semen, applying healing herbal oils to the rope burns and the wax marks. (Can't send him home marred, can I?)

As I was leaned over his chest, inspecting for places I may have missed, his hand twirled my hair with cheetah-like speed (a la Hando) and he flipped me over - pressing his delicious weight upon me. For a moment, I held my breath. I wasn't sure what Maximus would be like after a session. Would he feel the need to re-exert his alpha maleness on me? If so, the entire point of the session would be lost.

His eyes sparkled a blue, clear crystal - more keen than I had ever noticed before. A smile played on his lips as he brought them to mine...feather like, thankful.

"What do you desire of me, Mistress?" 

"Who? My name is Tina, I know no Mistress." 

"Tina, then...what would you have me do?" 

"Whatever comes to mind, General." 

"I know no General, here - I am Maximus - your servant." 

"Mmmm - what do you serve? Have you a menu? Can you show me your wares?" He pressed his wares into me, undulating. 

"Let me give you a taste of my selections..." 

"Ohhhhhh, Maximusssss - yesssss..." 

Only time will tell if our game did anything to enhance his understanding of true submission within an equal relationship. I'm sure he will require many sessions. Not to sound sexist, but I have discovered that the male psyche needs much repetition and reinforcement to make a lasting impression. Not wanting Max to miss out on any of his lessons, I am sending my riding crop to Bou. May it inspire the inner warrior in her - and remind Maximus of the sort of heights he can reach when he simply...submits.

I am sorry to disappoint you, eager reader. I know I left out a few important details from the session, and I do apologize, but I promised Max *sigh* as I was getting my bell rung, quite exquisitely, I must add...that I would keep a degree of confidentiality until he could decide for himself what our time together meant to him...