Tatyana's Pets - A Visitor

A new chapter opens as Tatyana becomes a Mistress

Photo copyright: The Author

Tatyana is a rich widow with a fetish for exhibitionism. Living in Paris in the 1950s she found an outlet for her desires by posing nude at an art school where she met, and began affairs with, Paul and Suzette.

Read about her exploration of her fantasies and widening sexual experiences in The Artists’ Model.

Now, she is once again alone, but a new opportunity to explore her fantasies is about to present itself.

This introduction to this sequel is free to read but, when the action hots up in the next episode it will slip discreetly back behind the paywall.

A Visitor

The weather had cooled since Suzette and Paul left; it was almost as if it had sensed the change in the atmosphere in the house. Tatyana had not visited the art school for months; the excitement of exhibiting her nude body there seemed to have paled after her fantasy was brought to life.

She still liked to spend as much time as possible without clothes, but the ill fitting windows sent draughts across her nipples and raised goosebumps on her skin. That morning she had shrugged on a long, flowing dress that hung tent like from her breasts as it shrouded the curves of her figure. Underneath, she wore no underwear, for the moment, her nudity was private, self-contained.

She moved aimlessly around the house, sitting and reading for a while, shuffling papers on the desk in the study and staring at the blank pages of her diary. What should she write in it? It was her birthday in a weeks time, then it would be one more year before she was forty. Her life had centred around her husband and then, after his murder, when things had returned to normal, the art school, followed by the influx of Paul and Suzette’s youth. Now her life was as blank as the page in front of her.

The doorbell chimed. Tatyana opened the front door to reveal a smartly dressed man standing meekly on the doorstep, clutching a large bunch of flowers. Standing one step up, she found herself looking down at him as he was probably no taller than her and slightly tubby.

He looked up at her and smiled nervously, his teeth white against his dark, neatly trimmed beard.

“Monsieur Signac,” she said. He had been one of her husband’s associates and she had recognised him at what she now called, her icing, but had not let on. From what she had witnessed that evening, she was aware that his portly appearance was due more to muscle rather than flab.

“Madam Robert.” He bowed and kissed Tatyana’s hand. “I hope you do not mind me calling but I just came to say…” He paused and looked down. Seeming to remember the bouquet he thrust it at Tatyana. “For you, Madam.”

“They are beautiful,” Tatyana took the flowers. “Would you like to come in, Monsieur?” she stepped to one side.

“Thank you, Mistress.” His eyes widened and he gasped. “Oh, I am sorry. Is it OK to call you that? I am rather nervous, you see.” The words tumbled out of his mouth.

“It is fine,” Tatyana just managed to restrain her smile to a gentle curve of her lips. “You may call me Mistress or Madam Smirnova, whichever you prefer.” She led him into the living room and gestured to a chair.

Monsieur Signac perched nervously on the edge of the seat and frowned, “Smirnova?”

“It is my maiden name. I have tried to keep a low profile since my husband was murdered; there may still be people out there who bear me ill will.”

“I understand,” he bowed slightly. “I am Marc, but please call me whatever you wish.”

“The flowers are beautiful, Monsieur, but is there another reason for your visit?” Tatyana crossed her legs and leaned forward, aware that the loose fitting top of her dress now gaped open as it hung away from her breasts.

Monsieur Signac fidgeted in his seat. “I just wanted to say that I am always, and will always be, at your service.” He looked down at the floor.

“You were invited that evening because Paul recommended you as a man who is respectful of women. Is that how you would describe yourself?” Tatyana asked.

“I run a successful business which brings me in a good income, but I am only truly happy when I am under the command of a strong woman. My devotion to her will be complete and any pain or discipline she administers will only increase that devotion.”

“You do not already have a wife or a Mistress?”

“My wife left me some years ago when she discovered…” He took a deep breath. “When she discovered I was paying another woman to… correct me.”

Tatyana had never considered that there were women out there who offered those services, but then she reasoned that the prostitutes around Montmartre catered for all tastes. “Did you have sex with her and do you still see her?” Tatyana found herself curious.

“No. She just used to order me around. Sometimes she disciplined me. It wasn’t very satisfying - just play acting really. Then, one day, she disappeared. Whether she was arrested or just left the city, I don’t know.”

“So, why have you come to me?”

He looked up. She noticed his eyes were sparkling. “What you did the other evening was, fantastique, so powerful. You offered yourself, but you were so in control. I just had to offer myself to you.”

“Was it not Suzette who was in control?”

He shook his head. “No, she was merely acting out your fantasy. I could see that. It was you who was really the architect of it all.”

“She is younger, stronger than me. Is it not her you should seek out? Although she does not live here anymore,” Tatyana added.

“I disagree. She may have the vigour of youth, but it is you that are the real woman - you that I have admired from afar - until now.”

Those last words struck Tatyana like a hammer strikes a bell. They reverberated around her head. To be admired, to feel eyes upon her, caressing her, knowing she was unobtainable, unless it was on her terms; was that not what she craved? Now this man was offering his devotion. It would be churlish not to accept.

She stood up, slipped the thin straps from her shoulders. She shivered inside as she felt the silky material flow down over her breasts and then, with one last touch of her nipples, slip to the floor as if someone had pulled on a cord to unveil a statue.

Monsieur Signac moved as if to stand up, but in response to a glare from Tatyana, settled into the seat again. “This will be an unusual arrangement,” she said. “I believe it is normal for the submissive to be naked and the Mistress to be clothed.” Tatyana walked slowly around the chair. She could feel Signac’s eyes on her. It was not just that he was looking adoringly at her; she could physically feel the touch as his gaze caressed her body.

“When I allow you to visit me, you will be smartly dressed. You will comply with my every command. You will not touch me or yourself without my permission. If at any time you feel you cannot obey my every instruction, you may leave.” She paused. “But if you do, you may not return. Do you understand and accept these terms?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he nodded.

“Kneel.”

Signac slipped off the chair onto his knees.

Tatyana stepped close to him, the delicate curls of her pubic hair millimetres from tickling the end of his nose. Her scent must be curling into him with every breath he took. “Good, from now on, you will address me as Madam.”

She looked down at the top of his head. The beginnings of a bald patch showed in the crown of his hair. She stepped back. “You may go.”

Signac got awkwardly to his feet. The bulge in the front of his trousers seemed to cause him immense discomfort, he walked towards the door bent over as if he had suddenly become an old man.

“Stop,” Tatyana snapped

Signac halted and turned towards her.

“You will return in one week at eleven, and that,” she pointed at the front of his trousers, “is now my property. You will not seek out any other woman with it. You will not masturbate nor touch it apart from to relieve yourself. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Madam,” Signac swallowed hard.

Tatyana waved him away and turned to face the opposite wall, her smile reflected in the mirror. She doubted whether Signac would be able to restrain himself. His trousers would probably be undone as soon as he was sat in his car. Now she was going to take some time to decide what to do with her new devotee.

Tatyana’s story is a sequel to The Artists’ Model