Jacqui took her back pack, slung it over one shoulder, adjusted the ball cap to a particularly jaunty angle, reflecting a studied nonchalance. She strode across the tracks, then climbed the steps of the Inn. It was almost picture book, Hallmark Channel quaint. But she sensed she wasn’t the first Woman With A Certain Attitude who crossed its threshold

“Oliveira, Jacqui. I’m here with Mr Poindexter.”

” Ah yes. I see. Welcome to the Inn, uh Jacqui?”

Sensing the clerk’s confusion around the gender she presented, she offered a title, “That’s Master Oliveira, Grace.”, reading the name off her ID badge. This was the first time she got to choose her own honorific.

” Of course. Again, welcome, Master Oliveira. Here is your key to the Hanover Suite. The elevator is to my right, should you prefer.”

“Thank you, but the stairs will do nicely.”

“The suite is to the left at the top of the stairs,” Grace added, as Jacqui strode toward the stair landing.

Jacqui easily climbed the stairs, turned, knocked twice, then put the plastic card in the reader.

Upon seeing “Dex” sitting on the bed, legs extended, watching TV, she walked to him, but not before stopping to turn off the television at the set. She took his chin in one hand, looked him squarely in the eyes, then slapped him with the leather gloves she gripped in the other hand.

“Why are your clothes still on? Why aren’t you on the floor, ready to kiss my boots, and where is your collar?”

“Let’s start over, shall we? Get naked. Now.”

She watched as he took off his Brooks Brothers shirt, slipped off the Gucci loafers, (those buckles, she thought, cringe worthy.) Next the khakis, and the banal over the calf socks.

He stood, facing her, in his white undershirt, and “tighty whitey” briefs (More cringing. Just No.)

“Stop right there.” She walked behind him, took her Buck knife from its sheath, opened the blade, and cut the shirt and the briefs from his body. She made big cuts on each side of the shorts. And then meticulously cut the shirt down each sleeve from the crew neck and, then down the back. His body now was surrounded by patches of white, as if the cotton knit jersey material was a cloud and Dex, magnificent and nude, was some Renaissance Prince in a fresco, ascending to Heaven.

She gave one cheek of his buttocks a slap, to see how the gloves would redden them. She noticed the JO tattoo, done in red and bordered in black, then walked around to face him. She looked at his chest, pleased to see the titanium nipple rings, then to his belly, assessing the frequency and efficacy of his exercise regimen, then to his penis, erect from Jacqui’s robust scrutiny.

She noted the absence of hair at his crotch, particularly on his organ and scrotum.

“Kyle does a thorough job, doesn’t he?”, Kyle being the Gay aesthetician, at the Brazilian waxing salon, that she researched and where she ordered Dex to go.

“Yes Mistress.”

“No Dex. From now on I am Master.” He corrected himself, addressing her with her now preferred honorific .

She walked behind him again, slapped his other ass cheek, commanded him to spread his cheeks in order to inspect his now hairless ass crack.

So what do they say at the gym Pretty Boy?Do the other men check you out, all naked, pierced and inked?”

“I suppose they do, but I try not to draw attention. I don’t want to get tossed out. It’s a family place, not a meat market.”

“So it is, Sport.”

” I’m not through getting you ready. Get your collar. Present it to me, respectfully, on your knees.” He obeyed.

She assessed her work, with her desired adornments.then buckled the collar at the nape of his neck.Tbe titanium O ring at his Adam’s apple matched the nipple rings. Reaching in her back pack, she took two silver chains, fastened both to th collar’s O ring and one to each nipple ring.

” That should make you very aware of your place, boy., just in case the butt plug makes you too, uh, complacent.”

Butt plug?” he thought. Again she reached in the back pack for the plug and, thankfully, he thought, the lube.

“Now let’s get you dressed. Not to worry, we’re not putting on too grand an exhibition.”  She tossed him a pair of women’s silk panties, with a seam down the back parting the ass cheeks. They were black with pink bows at the leg openings.

“Your regular clothes will do. Put them back on. You won’t need a tee shirt. How about dinner at that restaurant down the street ?”

To be continued.