A dominatrix

Jake's mom came down wearing a thick collar, elbow-length gloves, extravagantly dangling earrings, a skimpy leotard with golden breast cups, a golden belt (which, admittedly, looks a bit too much like batman's utility belt), stockings, and a pair of pointed-toe pumps. In her hand was a light fox-tail flogger. Jake didn't notice, but her abyssal hair was up in a high pony-tail. She looked as fierce and confident as any dominatrix should look, and Jake's blood was pumping at the speed of sound.

"Mom... holy shit, you look amazing!" Jake stammered.

"I'm not your mommy, but I can be if you want to be my naughty boy" She quipped, with a smirk that implied she wasn't joking around. Taking his first glance at her face since she returned, Jake could see that the original her was gone; replaced with a woman who fully and completely believed she was a personal dominatrix. She had a look in her eye that told him everything he needed to know: that being, that his mom was ready to humiliate, debase, and **** him in ways he couldn't imagine, until she finally allows him release, or maybe even fucks him.

Jake was mildly nervous, in a new way. But he wasn't sure how to get started. Fortunately, Mom (now Mistress) would probably get the ball rolling soon. As if on cue, she takes the lead.

"Pleasantries and greetings are over, 'sweetie'. What are you waiting for? How about showing a little respect?" She roared.

Jake had to choose his actions fast. He had a few options... But which one sounded best?

1. Strip naked in reverence
2. Kneel and kiss his mom's shoes
3. Ask for direction(s)
4. Do nothing, and wait for the consequences
5. Something else