Supercorp- One shots

Good Girl

The world as Lena knew it stopped as soon as she walked into Mistress Kara's apartment. Her life could suddenly no longer be measured in the moments between boardrooms and battlegrounds. There was no glory, no control, not even the vaguest of decisions that Lena was allowed to make of her own volition. The rules of engagement with Mistress Kara were simple and rigid: to do precisely as she was told, nothing more and certainly never anything less.

Lena stepped across the threshold of the home and transfigured from the big boss, ruthless executive, decision-making final word of all things... into a polite and subservient little slave. The chrysalis was sudden and absolute.

Lena had arrived fifteen minutes before Mistress Kara finished work just as instructed with the spare key she had been given. Her apartment was lived in and clean, perhaps even a little bare. There was something lovely about the raw wooden floors and exposed brickwork, how the open spaces seemed to knit themselves together with strewn rugs and reclaimed furniture that Mistress Kara had put plenty of love back into.

Framed art and band posters leaned propped against the walls all over the place, dusty and permanent despite not being hung. It was... pleasantly bohemian. The home was feminine and welcoming. Lena inhaled the apartment into her lungs and tasted the faintest hint of bergamot on the back of her tongue. It made her smile.

The first thing to do was always light the candles and dim the lamps. Lena slipped mindlessly into her role and made the apartment different shades of incandescent amber. Then, she went to the guest bedroom. The expensive navy suit and lacy underwear beneath were removed piece by piece until she was completely bare. Lena meticulously folded each item neatly away out of sight, and then placed her Louboutin heels back on.

The high heels had been specifically requested in Mistress Kara's morning instructions, along with a red ribbon bowed neatly around her neck in a pristine layer-style tie. These were the only items permitted to be worn in Mistress Kara's presence. The red ribbon served as a temporary consideration collar while Mistress Kara decided whether the real thing—a black leather collar with Mistress's name engraved on the tag—was to be given in due course. Lena hoped it would happen any day, they had been courting one another in consideration for some six months.

After she prepared herself in accordance with the precise instructions, Lena caught a glimpse of her slender pale body in the mirror and instantly saw the attraction. It was as though she were seeing herself anew, or just through somebody's else's eyes at least. Lena didn't look powerful or important at all anymore, therein was half the excitement. Frankly, she looked like a little slut. It was amusing and arousing, all at once. A well behaved slave stared back in the mirror's reflection, pretty and precise in all the ways that Mistress Kara cared for — and then tied in a pretty red ribbon to boot.

It was a funny term, slave. The implication was both severe and profoundly unsexual. She was not a baby girl, not a bunny, not a brat or anything else that could denote some kind of pure play dynamic. To be a slave was a completely different kettle of fish all together, one that was a complete lifestyle of subjugation rather than a sexual dynamic.

It was servitude, ownership, rigorous protocol. It was to never assume Mistress Kara's needs and only concern herself with executing her potential owner's expressed wishes to the absolute letter. That was the agreement, one that Lena had made abundantly clear to Mistress Kara from the very beginning in terms of what she was willing to offer. It was peaceful, fulfilling, and mind-numbingly arousing in moments too. Mistress Kara was both gentle and stern, sweet and unyielding, rigid but never cruel, and being in her service was a wonderfully ironic sense of freedom.

Lena checked the time and began to rush, she had five minutes until Mistress Kara arrived home from work and the realisation hurried her through the final preparations. She boiled and steeped a pot of green tea, plumped the pillows on the sofa, kneeled in the correct position in the corner of the room and... waited. That was the last instruction she had been given this morning, to be kneeling in the correct position at fifteen minutes after six and wait there until told otherwise.