He was chosen the moment I saw him on the street that hot summer night. Tall, dark and handsome to say the least, and a young thing, surely of age, but no more than 20, I guessed, a tender and succulent morsel for seasoned predator like me. The wet warmth and pulsing tingle I felt between my thighs told me he was the one.
I followed him at a discreet distance as he wove his way along the crowded street lined with singles clubs, young revelers jostling each other drunkenly and exchanging lewd looks and remarks. But he seemed different, gently, shyly, fending off the brazen come-ons from tipsy, scantily clad, young tarts looking for a hookup, and going on his way. But he would also ogle asses secretly, so it was clear he had normal desires.
To my disappointment, he finally entered a gentleman's club and I thought I might be wrong about him. Perhaps he was just typical after all. I followed him inside. The bouncer at the door gave me a querulous look but I'm an intimidating woman when I want to be, and my glare made him drop his eyes and take a sudden interest in his shoes.
My quarry joined a group of young yahoos at a table in the front row. After a few high fives he settled into a chair. The dancer closest by, animal naked, flaunted her lady parts at him by way of greeting but instead of leering he blushed and averted his eyes, at least at first.
Drinks were brought to the table by a nude barmaid. He sipped his slowly and glanced at the lascivious writhing of the dancer, fidgeting, obviously turned on but yet uncomfortable. His buddies whooped and hollered, jumped up and down, and urged him to join in but he shook his head and kept his seat. But I caught him giving longing glances to the sluts who paraded their flesh along the bar, but he would always blush and look away when one of them caught him at it, as if he were ashamed to admit his desires to himself. I took note of this very special bit of information.
Satisfied with my observations, I exited the place and noticed a coffee shop across the street, somewhat out of place among the dens of iniquity. I went inside and got a latte, then took a seat by the front window to await his emergence. He left about an hour and a half later and alone. I thought I saw relief on his face as he exited.
He walked back in the direction from which he had come, and I shadowed him again. He made his way to a parking ramp and I followed him in until he found his car. I was able to memorize the license number as he drove away.
I have a lot of connections. There are more than a few women like me. There is a secret sisterhood known simply as the Network. Most members are in positions of power and influence. One of my kindred spirits happened to be high up in the DMV. It was no problem to get Shawn's name and address. I set about stalking him, both to find a place and opportunity to pounce and to enjoy watching him while he had no inkling of his inevitable fate.
I love myself and I love my body as our Goddess, who ordains the exaltation of Woman over the male created it; as do all women who have actualized their dominant sexuality and taken control of their lives. The evening I discovered Shawn I went home horny and bent on being satisfied, a foregone conclusion for a woman like me.
But first I stripped naked and stood before the full-length mirror to admire myself. I carry my 45 years well and most who tried to guess my age guessed ten years low or more. I attribute this to my ongoing state of complete sexual fulfillment. My face has strong features, high cheekbones, firm chin, full sensuous lips and my steel blue eyes can pierce a man to the quick and make him follow me to his fate like a lost puppy if I so desire. My black hair is well past shoulder length, but I prefer to wear it up in a bun to accentuate my height.
My body isn't stylish in these days of the worship of thin. I'm tall, taller than most average men, raven haired and a study in curves, broad in shoulders and hips but narrowing at the waist, long and tapering in the legs. My skin is creamy white and flawless, no hint of cellulite anywhere. I work out rigorously and though a few extra pounds smooth out my figure hard muscle lies beneath and any man who won't be seduced can be woman-handled into submission.
My pride and joy and my favorite part of me lies beneath the dense thicket of coal black pubes that are framed by my comely thighs. It's the gift of our Goddess to her Daughters, a source of near limitless orgasmic pleasure and it holds the scent that enthralls. I despise the pathetic shavers who sanitize themselves to please squeamish males. Women such as I believe the pussy must intimidate, taunt and irresistibly entice. When I have a man on his knees before me with my legs parted as I "introduce myself" the message is clear. "This is me, this is my pussy, the center of your universe from this day forward. All that matters to you in the world is before your eyes!"
Rare indeed is the male who doesn't succumb at his first taste of me. Those rare resistant ones are treated to a taste of the searing leather and soon surrender. It is really a bit more pleasurable that way. I wondered which kind Shawn might turn out to be; but no matter. I looked forward with delight to his seduction and training.
My self- admiration and some fantasizing about Shawn's first taste soon had me randy and I went to my bedroom to see to my dehorning. My bed is vast, double king size in width and half again that in length. It's perfect for mad romps with any number of slaves if I choose to indulge. In the wall across from it, at its foot, are seven low doors suitable for the entrance or exit of a big dog. But, of course, entirely another kind of creature lies behind them. Each door has a number on it in order left to right.
I picked up a remote from the nightstand and pressed the button. All seven doors slid up at once but only six handsome young specimens groveled forth in eager haste. Door number three had no slave behind it. That is the problem that necessitates my pursuit of Shawn.
