Mistress Vancouver Dominatrix, Fetish, Discipline, Domination


New Leather Dress

I am invited to a birthday party. A slave (let’s call him cc), who wants to please me, serve me, and be close to me says there will be good food, music, and a lot of people to mingle with and have interesting discussions with. I say yes. But I want a new dress, sexy and made of leather, to draw attention, to stand out rather than blend in with the crowd, to provoke.
I arrange a shopping trip.

It’s Saturday afternoon and my slave/driver is waiting for me, the smile on his face indicating euphoria. He kisses my hand, leads me to the car, opens the door for me, and before he retires to the drivers seat he compliments me by simply saying ‘You-look-beautiful’. My answer to this is ‘thanks, and you can thank me later for being allowed to carry my shopping bags’.

“Anything you want, Domina Katarina, just tell me what you want!”—then he goes on about a sensation he feels in the panties he must wear when with me. Pink, of course.

At the shopping mall nothing catches my eye: I have a singular vision that I don’t want to compromise. So I don’t. cc walks behind me from one store to another, trying to point out various dresses. It doesn’t take me long to explain what I’m looking for, not nearly as long as it takes him to understand. After about twenty minutes I start to get bored and uninspired. cc sees my disappointment, fortunately my determination somehow holds on. Well, the worst thing that could happen is that I would blame cc and ultimately punish him for this useless shopping trip and have him compensate for it by taking me out for dinner. It doesn’t happen, as my enthusiasm reappears when I see in the window of a clean-cut designer boutique a few intriguing pieces arranged with precision and style. So I walk in, cc obediently following with the spark of hope in his submissive eyes. Soon enough the spark in mine flares into flame: among the white purity of shelves and walls I spot a black, crisp, straight dress hanging like a piece of armour. I quickly walk toward it to assure myself of the reality of the sight, to grasp a view. Confirmed: leather! The feel! The scent! Their prominence against the plain, woven material. The compact placed against lax.

I ask for my size and then take my slave in to the fitting room with me. As I start undressing, his pupils expand, he stand there without a move.
“Come on, take your clothes off! Don’t just stand here with your mouth gaping open.” —I order him instantly.
“Yes, Domina Katarina!” —and he nervously takes off, piece by piece, his clothes.
As he stands in his pink attire—neglige, nylons and panties—I pull out a little flogger I typically take with me on outings like this from my bag. By now I wear only black stockings with garter belt, g-string and black bra, ready to try on the dress.
“cc, help me zip it up! Stop starring and make yourself useful!” —and I smack his pink clad ass. “The whipping sound could attract the shop assistant lady’s attention, so you better speed up, before you embarrass yourself and I whip you more!”

The dress fits me like a glove! I’m in love with it! Just under the knees, contouring to rather than tightly fitting my body. No sleeves add a summer elegance to the appearance. Silver studs around the neck and waist line are a glamorous, kinky touch. Looking at my mirror reflexion I cannot ignore cc’s awestruck face. I grab him by that little piece of pink covered bulging flesh and pull him closer to me, threateningly: “I know you want to get this dress for me! And I want you to say it out loud!” —and I pinch his already erect, sensitive nipple.

“Please, Domina Katarina, allow me to get this dress for you! It is my pleasure to see you pleased.” —his voice trembles as he cannot disguise his arousal.

“I want to keep the dress on. cc, you just put your boring jeans and t-shirt back on, go pay up and let’s go! you can thank me when it’s just you and me alone!” —and I walk out of the fitting room. The shop assistant lady greets me, saying “you look absolutely stunning in this dress, my dear!”

cc, with a wide smile on his face carrying my original clothes in a branded bag, looks like the happiest little sissy boi.


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