Final Episode by Rolf

Dear reader,

this is the fourth and final episode in my story recounting a RL experience I had some years ago with Madame Katarina,a mistress who bought me at a slave auction in Sweden. The previous three episodes are available on the Dominion blog, where Miss Eva has kindly published them.
Rolf
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                Kissing boots

The Austrian customs official, a young blond man, eyed Madame Katarina nervously as he asked her to open the tube she was carrying strapped on her shoulder. There was something about this woman that unsettled and fascinated him in equal measure. He admired her long black hair and dark eyes but her deep, commanding voice stirred something in him that he seemed unable to define.

"You want to have a look?" Katarina, having just arrived at Vienna airport on a flight from Stockholm, removed the cap and spilled out a selection of whips and canes and floggers on the desk in front of the official.

He gulped and didn't know where to look. Katarina took full advantage of the situation. "Have you been a good boy?" she asked him in English. "If not, maybe you need a good whipping?"

The young man blushed and uttered something inaudible and the awkward scene was already drawing attention from other customs officials and arriving passengers. He hastily collected the whips, canes and floggers, there were about a dozen of them, and put them back into the tube.

Avoiding Katarina's penetrating gaze, he waved her away, resisting the temptation to open her suitcase as well.

Madame was entertaining me with this hilarious story in the sports car on the way home from the airport and we both had a good laugh. It was great to see her again and my heart had skipped a beat as she came through customs, suitcase in hand, and the tube with its naughty contents slung over her shoulder. I had moved to Vienna to start my new job a month ago and we had exchanged many emails and talked on the phone in the meantime and now, in September, she had finally joined me in the Austrian capital, two months after we first met.

I poured a bath, opening the brass taps and lit a candle in the bathroom of my luxury flat. Katarina entered, naked with a glass of champagne in her hand. This looked promising and I went to the kitchen to cook dinner, Dover sole with a butter and Chardonnay sauce, asparagus and Basmati rice. I have cooked for as long as I remember and doing it, lovingly, for a woman is a great pleasure for me.

Having drained and exhausted me in the night, Katarina rose early, demanded breakfast and said she wanted to go for a walk. It was a sunny Sunday morning and I submitted accordingly.

We had been walking through the Erste Bezirk, the medieval first district of Vienna, for two hours when Madame wanted to return home to my flat. I obeyed of course but realised in an instance I was probaby lost. The cobble stone streets of old Vienna have been built over the centuries without a master plan, but simply as another need arose and it is a maze of squares, back alleys, cul-de-sacs and so on.

I am not trying to make an excuse here but I simply wasn't sure how to take us home again on foot. I had a look on my well-thumbed map and Katarina realised I must be lost.

"Can you find the way home?" She gave me an impatient look.

"Sure," I said with the stubbornness of a man who can't admit he is wrong. "Look, if I am lost I will kiss your boots!"

I was so sure of myself, unfortunately.

Madame, who was wearing black leather boots, smiled but after a few minutes it became clear to her that I was indeed lost. "Kneel Rolf. Kiss my boots! Now!"

I was suddenly uncomfortable. "But, Madame, you know I can't stand public humiliation! You can't force me."

She walked up close. "Are you talking back at me?"

I mumbled a thousand excuses and begged her not to force me to do it in public.

Relenting, Madame led me round the corner, away from the crowd, and gave me an ultimatum: I would kiss her boots in private, here in this backyard, but face a whipping when we came home. Or, I'd kiss her boots in front of all the tourists in the main street but be spared punishment at home.

The choice was easy for me. I kissed her boots quickly in the backyard and then we caught a taxi home where Madame undressed me and tied me to the bedposts, blindfolded me and gave me a good whipping on my bottom and back. Yes, it hurt and she stopped momentarily to take a photo of me in my compromised position with my own camera, a photo I've still got.

She had taught me a lesson - again.

Visiting my office one morning, Katarina, dressed in black leather, became the centre of attention among my colleagues, both male and female. She spoke to a few of them and over dinner that night she confided in me a fantasy. "I wish I could be a supervisor at your office," she said. "I would patrol the desks, whip in hand, and discipline anyone who was lazy or disobeyed me in any way."

I gave her a long look. "You'd be surprised how many of my colleagues would do their best to misbehave to catch your attention. No work would be done so it should probably remain a fantasy of yours Madame."

Madame Katarina and I spent weekends and evenings together, at home or going to blues clubs and Mozart concerts, but after a few weeks it became clear that she was not happy in Vienna. She did not speak German and missed her friends in Stockholm and I simply could not give her what she wanted. Perhaps we had rushed into this relationship too quickly. She had kept her flat in Stockholm.

I was distraught of course because I loved her, she was my dream come true, but everything has a beginning and an end and I booked her flight back to Stockholm as autumn set in.

I drove her to the airport. Waiting for her flight to be announced, we had a drink at Vienna airport.

"Be a good boy now," Madame Katarina said, without conviction.

"I promise to be a good boy," I replied, going through the motions as well now I knew it was over.

We met each other's gaze and managed to avert our eyes before  truth could be seen by either of us. Yes, it was over, but we found it difficult to admit because we had had such a good time together, albeit briefly.

A speaker called out that her flight was due for boarding. We hugged and I smelled her perfume. I caught a final glimpse of Katarina as she hurried towards customs, her whips in the tube, long dark hair flowing.

I got into my car, acutely aware I was alone again, and the scent of her perfume lingered on the passenger seat as a reminder of my failure to persuade her to stay. I revved the V6 engine hard out of frustration, slipped a blues into the CD player and drove home in the night.

END
Rolf Hultcrantz