The metal tips of her stiletto shoes clicked against the black and white chequer board floor tiles; each step instinctively, without thought or effort, alternating between black and white. As she made her stately progress across the tiled floor she mused on the aptness of the symbolism that reflected the extremities of the world she inhabited and held sway over: darkness and light, cruelty and kindness, pain and pleasure, humiliation and reward. She commanded over her domain like a chess master playing a twisted and beautifully imagined chess game in which she, the Red Queen with a black heart, orchestrated proceedings and her slaves were pawns. She stood before her gothic mirror and admired her image reflected within its black cast iron frame. The Queen of Hearts was ready.

‘How do I look, Duchess?’ she asked, turning to her transvestite companion and lady in waiting.

‘I’m speechless, madam, really I am. You look absolutely stunning, a true fetish red queen,’ she answered.

She examined her image in the mirror carefully appraising every detail of her dress and make-up to ensure it met her exacting standards. She held her body upright and smoothed the shiny metallic red PVC panel of the ankle-length skirt, straightened her ruby encrusted tiara and made a final adjustment to the black heart-shaped choker around her neck. Yes, she thought, she looked perfect.

She turned and stepped off the black and white floor tiles taking a few steps to face one of the male slaves who served in her realm. His wrists were secured with leather cuffs, which had a rope attached to them and threaded through a metal ring fixed into the ceiling pulled tight so that his arms were stretched out. His ankles were similarly bound in leather cuffs and secured to rings set in the floor, his legs stretched just wide enough to cause discomfort but for the soles of his feet to lie flat on the black carpeted floor.

Hanging from his balls was a large cast-iron ball weight forged into the letter “N”. “N” for Nemesis, the Queen of Hearts smiled to herself, the name taken from the Greek goddess of fate and retribution and one of the personas she adopted in the fetish fantasy realm she had created and ruled over. She lifted the weight up and traced her finger along the letter and then let it drop heavily.

The blindfolded man gasped as the velocity of the falling weight stretched his balls.

The Red Queen merely laughed sadistically at his predicament. She gestured to the duchess who, silently and secretly, stood behind her helpless victim and lifted the blindfold from his eyes to reveal the vision of his mistress transformed into the Queen of Hearts.

The cruel piercing blue eyes, framed in ruby streaked ebony hair, met her victim’s as the blindfold was removed permitting him to feast his eyes on her. He gasped and then moaned in homage at the formidable and ravishing presence before him. She stood there, her heaving cleavage held tight in a shiny electric red PVC bodice festooned with black hearts and framed with a ruff in gold. This is the part I love, she mused. The look in their eyes when she revealed herself; that look of mesmerised devotion mixed with fear, fear of the unknown, fear of the seductive torment they knew she was capable of inflicting on them.

‘So, are you ready to submit to the Queen of Hearts?’ her voice whispered with more than a hint of playfulness mingled with the malice.

‘Yes, mistress,’ was the breathless reply.

‘Mistress?’ the inflection of her voice was raised and indignant, ‘Do you think that’s the correct form of address for the Red Queen?’

‘No, your majesty. I mean your majesty. Of course, I mean your majesty.’

‘Yes, that’s better, slave. But you know you must be punished for addressing me so inappropriately.’

Her fingers strayed down to his cock grasping it in her metallic red gloved hands to inspect it. At the sight of his mistress revealed in all her shiny fetish glory his cock had instantly sprung to attention and stood firm and erect in her hand. They were so weak sometimes, she reflected. They knew the standards that were expected of them but still they succumbed to their own lusts. She enjoyed not making life easy for them, revelled in the control she had over them, but really, if they could not exercise more self-discipline then they simply had to be punished.

‘So, slave, does my presence arouse you? Do you think I’m dressed like this just to get you excited?’

‘No, your majesty. You’re dressed as the Queen of Hearts for your own pleasure, your majesty.’

‘Yes that’s right, but then how do you explain this? How many times have I told you about controlling yourself in my presence,’ she admonished, ‘I’m not a sexual object for you to ogle and get aroused over, you know that. You are here to serve me.’

‘Yes, your majesty, I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry! Hah! Sometimes, slave, I just think these are meaningless words especially when your actions betray you. And look at this, what have you got to say about this disgusting mess?’

She held up her finger in front of his eyes, the traces of precome from the tip of his cock glistening on the tips of her gloved finger.

‘You know what you must do,’ she said, slipping the finger into his mouth for him to suck off the sticky substance. He licked it off greedily and obediently.

She nestled a flogger made of twisted strips of black and red leather firmly in her other hand and ran it across the flesh of her slave’s backside. His body tensed, tingling in anticipation of the pain that would follow, knowing that she would soon strike. Sure enough, five hard strokes whipped across his arse. He gasped and moaned as the flogger struck and the stinging sensation crept across his body. He felt the gentle touch of leather; a series of gentle taps and some gentle rubs against his throbbing flesh before another ten hard strokes rained down on him, fast and relentless.

‘Thank you, your majesty,’

She held the flogger up in front of his eyes and then ran it down his chest and stomach. His whole body trembled with that strange mixture of yearning and fear that slaves have when they submit themselves. The flogger was raised and struck hard against his erect penis. His arms wriggled and twisted in their bondage as his body instinctively flinched against the strokes but he was captive and powerless. His erection instantly wilted. She glanced up at him her eyes full of pleasure and satisfaction at the punishment she had inflicted.