By His Command

"Mostly I'd just like a relationship between equals, with a man of a similar age," Sandra sighed, "But all the men in their fifties seem to be obsessed with women young enough to be their daughters, or at least their daughter's friends."

She chuckled dryly. "Even women over 40 seem to be getting caught up in this whole cougar thing. I just don't get it. Except, as a result, I am literally not getting IT. I like to pretend that I can turn my sex drive on and off, but the truth is, I want a man. Not just to fuck, of course. I want a mature guy who floats my boat with his brain as well as his body. One who appreciates a sense of humour, good food, a nice glass of wine, theatre, travelling... I guess I really do want it all, don't I?"

Her laugh was richer as she swirled the red wine in her glass and looked across the restaurant table at her lifelong girlfriend, Lilly. They had met on the playground in preschool. They shared their first scraped knees, their first double dates in Jimmy Walsh's dad's old Buick... they had lost their virginities together, twenty feet apart in Old Man Willet's barn one sunny summer afternoon. Neither had been convinced that they were "ready", but neither wanted to look afraid in front of the other either.

After graduation, Lilly had moved across the country. Now, newly widowed, she had moved home to care for her elderly parents. She was content in this, because her husband had left her well off. She had enjoyed all the sorts of things which Sandra longed for, and knew she could find more. This brief respite was just for refuelling.

Sandra had also enjoyed life, marrying early and raising two fine sons, until her husband had traded her in on a newer model. He was now on his third, or fourth, who counted, trophy wife, one about every five years, all in their early twenties. Sandra had returned to school after the divorce, and owned her own financial consulting company, mostly doing stock valuations for mergers and acquisitions, something which shocked family members who assumed she sold life insurance to little old ladies. She was wealthy, had travelled together with Lilly and other friends, socialized for business, but had never met a man who could please her. Most were intimidated by her success.

"Well, if you're serious," Lilly replied, "I might know just the man, except he lives in Cincinnati."

Sandra's face went from excitement to despair in the pause between the clauses.

"But he travels a lot," Lilly explained. "He does risk management consulting for hospitals. Our local hospital is on his list, and he visits a couple of times a year. In fact, he's here at the end of the week. I can suggest he stay the weekend and you can come over for dinner and meet him."

"Is he staying with you?" Sandra asked, her tone of voice implying a deeper issue.

Lilly chuckled, sipped her wine. "Yes, but not like you seem to think. Spencer was a dear friend of my late husband and when Clark died, Spencer sort of offered to fill the void, but..."

Her voice trailed off, her eyes focused down on her hands, which busily swirled her wine glass. She could not look Sandra in the eye.

"What? Come on – no secrets between us, remember."

"I told him I just wasn't ready." Lilly still spoke uncharacteristically softly.

"So, he'd wait, I'm sure," Sandra knew there had to be more to the story. She also knew sometimes Lilly just had to be allowed to tell it in her own way.

"Well, a little problem. He's sort of married."

"Sort of? I thought either you're married or you aren't."

This made Lilly laugh so hard that other restaurant patrons looked at her strangely.

"Sandra, after the way your husband behaved, how can you be so innocent? Marriage comes in many flavours. In Spencer's case, there were kids. He travels so much, that over the years he and his wife just grew apart. After a while, they came to an understanding – what he does in other area codes doesn't count, as long as she doesn't hear about it. He knows she sees other men while he's away, but she's discrete. They could still show up at the country club together with heads held high. He always assumed once the last child left, they would quietly end the farce, except now she's fighting cancer, so he doesn't dare leave her until that's resolved. The kids would never forgive him. Besides, he's not that sort of cruel guy."

For some reason Sandra could not fathom, that last line made Lilly chuckle.

"So that still doesn't explain why not you."

"Yeah. Well, there is one other thing. You know how I said marriage comes in many flavours? So does sex. I like my plain vanilla, and Spencer likes all the tastes of Baskin Robbins, then some."

Sandra's eyes flew wide open. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's more than just a little bit kinky. And that Spencer is not that kind of cruel - implying he is certain sorts of cruel? "

"So why do you think that would interest me any more than you?" Sandra said as she blushed.

Lilly laughed from her belly once more. "I hope you don't play poker with that face. Remember, I've know you since before you French kissed Billy Wells in the science storage closet. I think I realized even before you did that vanilla would never be enough for you. I said Spencer is not the kind of cruel to abandon his sick wife - but I do think he likes games that might involve domination. Not sure what sort, whether it's just spanking, or whether it's full out whips and chains. Never asked. I cry if I break a nail, so that has no appeal to me. You've always been tougher stuff. Sure, maybe you tried to pretend and live out some version of the great American dream, but by now, I'm betting that you are ready to explore your fantasies. I hope so, it would be good for you."

By the time Lilly finished her speech, Sandra was staring into her wine glass, her face flushed warm.

"Try it. You might like it. If you don't, you don't need to continue," Lilly added.

Sandra turned even redder, the blush spreading down her chest into her décolletage, the exposed tops of her full breasts glowing hot.

"Ohhhh," Lilly realized. "I get it. You're afraid you'll like it TOO much."

This time both women laughed, until the manager came and asked if everything was all right. The spell broken, the two women finished their drinks, paid, and left.

Over the next few days, Sandra tried very hard not to think of Lilly's friend Spencer. She nonetheless found herself wondering if he resembled Spencer Tracy. Lilly's husband Clark had always joked that he was named after Clark Gable, not Clark Kent.

"Less powerful, but better looking," Lilly would say if she was nearby

"He'd be about the right age for his mother to have had long smouldering thoughts about THAT Spencer – not as gorgeous as Clark Gable, but rugged, manly, confident, capable – the sort of man who would care for a woman, but respect her as well." Sandra told her reflection in the mirror one morning, applying makeup wearing just a camisole and matching panties.

As she looked down to pick up her mascara, she noticed that the stiffness of her nipples was tenting the front of her top.

"Good thing Spencer's not here to see," she found herself giggling. She had not giggled so girlishly in a decade. "And he never will be here, so stop acting like a schoolgirl."

She finished dressing and went to work, but in her meetings, she found her mind wandering to Spencer, and each time, her breasts swelled. Finally, she rushed to the ladies room, to check how flushed she was. Fortunately, she still looked professional. After reapplying her lipstick, she could not resist quickly running her fingertips over her nipples. She felt her panties moisten just a bit.

This continued until Wednesday, when Lilly called and invited Sandra to dinner Friday. Spencer of course would be there. Once again, Sandra found her mind wandering. Two days flew past in a blur. Perhaps some work got done, or not, she really neither knew nor cared.

The party also was a blur for Sandra. Later, she would say it was like going to a carnival for the first time – a whirlwind of activity, people, sound and colour. All that she could recall clearly was the dashingly handsome mature man standing silently, like the stone in the rapids around which water flows, at the center of the party activity, yet never carried away. She found herself drawn to him. As she drew near, the rapids metaphor was replaced by one of a planetary system – he was the sun, she was just one of the planets in his orbit.

"You must be Sandra," she would always recall his first words. "Lilly has told me a lot about you."

Yet, in spite of that promising opening line, he offered Sandra no more attention than Jupiter offers any one of its 63 moons. They spoke, but she never had any recollection afterwards about what, just his deep confident voice, his assured manner, the sense that here was a man with absolute command of his world. He was not wearing a tuxedo, yet every time she thought back on the evening, that was what she imagined - him still, a martini glass in hand, sipping occasionally, dashing in black tie.

Her panties had gotten moist in anticipation. The reality made them become soaking wet. She could feel her clit hum, her nipples stiffen. For some reason, she wished she was wearing a bustier. She knew that her breasts were her best weapon in the war of the sexes, and though she owned no exotic lingerie, just looking at Spencer made her ache to display herself erotically.

When she got home that night Sandra was unable to sleep, her pulse was racing. Finally, she got up, tried reading a book, but eventually, wandered to her laptop and found herself cruising websites which sold corsets, bustiers, garters. She had never owned such exotic items, but found them exciting. As she browsed, she felt her nipples harden, just like when she looked at Spencer. In her mind, she was modelling her purchases for him, and then dropping to her knees to suck his cock.

Except, she was shocked when in her fantasy, he grabbed a handful of her hair, dragged her away from his throbbing erection and sat on a chair.

"You prefer me to blow you while you sit?" she dreamt of asking, smiling both in the fantasy and reality.

She pictured him chuckling, his fingers still loosely, but manfully, holding a handful of her curls.

"No," he would say. "First I want you across my lap."

She gasped as she thought the words, and also in her fantasy. Her husband had never spanked her. No lover had touched her ass except to stroke it, always just a brief stop before sneaking a finger into her cunt, perhaps followed by using her ample but firm rear as a handhold while fucking. Only her father had spanked her about half a century ago. There had been nothing sensual about that – the first time she had really cried, he stopped, and never did it again.

Her father's words, though, now had another meaning: "You're getting too old for this."

Perhaps her father had depths she had never guessed. Maybe he had sensed something about his daughter which she was only discovering now, decades later. She found herself hoping that she was not once again too old to enjoy a good spanking. As Sandra pictured herself over Spencer's lap, a tingle ran to her extremities; a shiver down her spine; warmth radiated from her core to flush her breasts, stiffen her nipples. She felt her clit filling like a miniature cock with blood, begging for release.

Sandra sprawled back in her comfy chair, legs wide open, and loosened the robe she had slipped on over the nakedness of her fitful sleep. She pictured Spencer watching her squirm, her naked breasts teasing his hungry eyes. No, that wasn't right. Spencer might feel that ache, but she knew instinctively that he would never show a hint of it in his face. Only the eventual stiffness of his cock would betray his excitement. Even then, she guessed, he would only fuck her as a reward. He would train her, she realized suddenly.

"May I touch myself?" She heard her voice, though she was alone in her room.

"Yes, I want to watch you cum." Sandra heard Spencer's calm confident voice in her imagination. "Take off your robe and touch yourself."

Sandra slipped out of her robe, obeying, but left the cloth puddled beneath her on the chair. She chuckled about her own cautiousness, as she protected the upholstery from staining. Although her apartment was air conditioned, she felt as if there was a breeze chilling her skin. Her nipples hardened. She had yet to touch them, but already the anticipation caused moisture to seep out of her cunt, wetting her swollen lips and she began to feel dampness on the inside of her thighs.

One hand caressed her belly, slowly, circling, each time getting closer until finally she touched her breasts. Her fingertips gently brushed the soft curves, caressing the undersides, and then cupping them, until, unable to restrain herself, she moaned.

"Am I pleasing you?" she asked her imaginary Spencer.

"Oh, you would know if you weren't," she pictured him saying."Continue."

"But wouldn't you like to undress? How does this pleasure you if you aren't also touching yourself?"

"I wish to just watch you submit, for you to totally want to share your pleasure with me, so that I own your very orgasm."

The chill with which she imagined him speaking those words made her accept that all her life she had wanted a man to take her like this, to possess her, to make her truly his. Her husband had been too insecure. She needed a man like Spencer.

Sandra's fingers found her nipples and tugged them firmly, causing another groan to echo in her room.

Suddenly, she feared that it had been wrong to proceed so quickly, without first seeking permission.

She knew that she only want to please Him, to never disappoint

"Your pleasuring yourself pleases Me immensely, My dear," he said and she wondered whether He would be hard, just watching her.

She smiled, finding reassurance in His imagined confident voice."Especially the way that you find pleasure in a bit of pain."

Sandra admitted to herself for the first time that for her, pain was prelude to the greatest pleasure. She relaxed and immersed herself in her fantasy. She ached to belong to Spencer.

She was so new to the domination world, if she even really belonged to it yet, as opposed to merely longing for it. She was, however, too deeply in thrall to recognize that submitting to an imaginary Master was somewhat silly. Only later would Sandra worry that Spencer might not actually want her obedience. Sure, Lilly had said he was kinky, but Sandra was not completely innocent – she knew that kink came in many flavours, and what if his did not match hers? Or what if he simply wasn't attracted to her? But these thoughts were not yet in Sandra's mind. Her brain was too totally consumed by lust.

Eyes closed, Sandra was slumped in her chair, her whole body trembling as she imagined his touch - lips gently kissing her shoulder and then working along her neck. The images in her mind made the room spin. She could smell the scent he wore as the part - rugged, masculine, discrete. She had never felt so alive.

As she arched her back, her breasts thrust upward under her hands, she wondered whether she could please Spencer. Had he liked what he saw when they had met? In his eyes, was she as beautiful as she felt at the moment, or as plain as she felt most days? Had she aroused him? She chuckled, twisting her nipples until she winced slightly.

"Don't flatter yourself," she spoke into the empty room. "He certainly did not look aroused, he barely acknowledged that you are a woman. You'd be lucky if he wanted you."

As these words hung in the air, she felt as if it was Spencer caressing her breasts. She rolled over, as if presenting her ass to his gaze.

"It's not a small ass, but next to your tits, it's your best feature," she reminded herself. "Perhaps Spencer will smack it for you."

She felt the blood flushing through her skin in a whole body blush. She had never felt so vulnerable, so needy. This, she realized was what true desire felt like. As she thought about passion, one hand found its way between her legs. Sandra knew with her rear in presentation position, Spencer would be able to see her excitement, patently obvious from the fullness of her swollen vulva. The wetness on her thighs was the most thrilling sensation Sandra had ever experienced.

This made Sandra want to see Spencer even more, to submit to him, if he would have her. She dreamed of gazing into his eyes, searching for a hunger which she knew had to be there, but which he kept buried. She wanted to obey him until he could not resist showing a reaction to her evident arousal. Though she desperately wanted to play with her tits, she remained in her awkward tripod doggie style until she pulled her legs up under her body, her thighs mashed against her breasts. Her nipples drilled into her flesh like diamonds. Even with one arm trapped between her legs and belly, fingers half buried in her cunt, Sandra enjoyed the fresh taste of discomfort, imagining that it would please Spencer. She realized that she was wiggling her hips, presenting her ass more urgently to her imaginary Master.

A shiver shook her spine as she longed for Spencer's touch, causing a fresh gush from her pussy. She bit her lower lip, stifling a scream. She lived in a solid new building, but still, some things she did not want to risk sharing with her neighbours. Her fingers touched her litmus she imagined Spencer rubbing his palms up and down her back, teasing her ass, lingering for just a moment on the wide point of her hips, allowing her to feel his warmth, praying that he would just run a finger between her cheeks, violate her ass just a bit, tip her over the edge. She knew that he would deny her that as long as possible, building the anticipation, running hands up her spine to her shoulders, caressing her flanks, keeping his touch light and teasing. Sandra's body trembled at her desire for Spencer's touch. She fantasized about the things he might make her do, things she had never done, but which she would do to show how much she wanted him. Wanted to submit to him.

Her mind and body were reacting as if his fingers were really there. Her body was excited and relaxed at the same time. Her passion was building towards a climax as she imagined that it was Spencer's touch. At once soft and confident. Rather than her own fingers stroking her clit, thrusting up into her cavity.

Sandra pictured Spencer's hand slapping firmly against her ass. The shock of the imaginary blow was real, making her gasp in surprise. She had never submitted in that way before, and now she was aching for it. The acceptance of her desire was sudden, and unexpected. She realized that not only did she want Spencer, but she wanted his discipline - for him to relax her first. The surprise would intensify the pain that brought the pleasure.

She continued fingering herself as she pictured another blow landing, and another. Three spanks, without pause, before he rested his palm on her flesh. She wanted the reality, the feel of the warmth spreading over her ass. This desire excited her more than anything she had ever imagined. She knew she would revel in the sting and want more. She sensed that Spencer would deliver what she needed, his hand striking her tender flesh again and again, him knowing just when to pause, just how hard to hit, just how much Sandra could endure. The dream was so realistic that her ass actually began to throb as her cunt overheated, her moaning intensifying into groaning. She bit her lower lip again, stifling her desire to roar down to a whimper.

She rolled over then, her back arched, her breasts thrust upward, aching for his touch, for him to taste them. She wondered if she would please him. Would he like what he saw when he looked at her naked body displayed like this, for his eyes only? Would he think she was beautiful? Would he become aroused, engorged? Would he want her as badly as she desired him? She imagined his touch as she contemplated these questions, her fingers substituting for his.