A hopelessly romantic fantasy of submission but this one is all mine.
“Your Mistress commands you wear this until you are with me again.” was all the note said.
Matthew looked at the contents of the envelope; one handwritten note and a simple black friendship band. He regarded it doubtfully.
‘At least it is subtle’ he thought. Tying it on his wrist was a tricky problem and involved the use of teeth but at last he got it fastened. He turned his wrist this way and that regarding the symbol of his bondage and then pushed it up under his cuff.
On the way into the office he was uncomfortably aware of the extra weight, although tiny, on his wrist. He found his eyes flicking to it as he drove.
“Still, if Mistress demands it” he reflected.
His morning was occasionally distracted by the presence of the bracelet on his wrist. He looked at it curiously wondering whether Rowena had made it herself, and as he thought of her and of seeing her that night a gentle smile fell across his face.
“Nice bracelet”, he looked up, startled, from his reverie as Marie from finance stood by his desk.
“Er, yes, thank you”, he muttered discomforted. Self consciously he tugged his shirt sleeve down to cover the friendship band up and hide the all too visible reminder of his submission.
In the afternoon he found his fingers running over it gently, turning about his wrist. A tiny link to his Mistress, loved but distant. He was her Boy, even here in the middle of his busy day.
Later, at home, he regarded it doubtfully as he stripped naked to have a shower.
‘Until you are with me’ the note had said. He left it on.
It survived unscathed, only a little damp, and he turned his wrist looking at it while he pondered what to wear to meet his Mistress. He pulled out a short sleeve shirt, as it was a warm night, and assessed his image in the mirror critically. The band simple and unobtrusive, yet marking him as an owned Boy, a possession, a plaything, Rowena’s. He was unaware of the pleasure in his face as he hurried out to meet her.
The bar they were meeting at was crowded. She was sitting at a table by herself. She had come straight from work and looked a little tired. Her face transformed as she saw him.
“Matthew”, she smiled with delight. “My Boy” she added quietly as she gestured him into the chair. She held out her hand imperiously and he put his wrist into it, the bracelet clearly on display.
“Good Boy”, her praise was sweet.
Later, much later, he found himself, naked, sore, kneeling at her feet, his head to the floor. Rowena stood over him, all tiredness vanished, refreshed by each moment she had used him, hurt him, played with him.
“Up Boy”, she lifted his head until he was looking up at her. She took his hand and stroked the bracelet knotted around it.
“Shall I release you from this now?”, she asked him gently.
He looked up at her adoringly, “No Mistress, please let me wear it”.