The camp counselor uniform piqued her interest. Jessica had stopped for gas along a lonely road, and decided to enter the convenience store to get food for the last leg of her journey after filling up. She spotted him immediately upon entering. She hadn't ever seen shorts that short or tight, at least on a man. The knee high, striped socks and running shoes with pink trim accentuated the athletic look. The tight tee hinted at his lithe physique underneath, though his pectorals were pronounced enough that they couldn't be ignored.
She thought an average passerby would assume he was gay, and maybe he was. In her mind though, there was something deeper at play. He stood with a passive confidence, but she could also sense a forbidden yearning. The way he looked off into the distance spoke to something missing. If a quietly, confident man was still missing something, she felt that it was something he was afraid to ask for. Or, he may have been afraid to admit he craved it.
She made it her business to make quick judgements about the men around her - and she had gotten rather good at surmising from a glance the tastes of a man. She had little patience for endless conversations only to find that with most men she couldn't have what she wanted in bed. And what she wanted from her partner was total submission. So, she honed her skills of perception to save her time. However, she was often alone as no one matched her wants perfectly. Willfully stubborn, she refused to settle for any one who didn't meet all of her expectations. Yet, while the search continued, she had some fun in the meantime in determining if her assumptions of a man were correct.
As she found herself walking up to this counselor, her original plans abandoned, she had a hint of a wry smile as she wondered how long it would be before her fingers were deep in his ass.
"Hey, I'm just curious, what camp are you from?" she asked, tapping his shoulder.
The man that turned to face her could not have been older than 25. It was hard for her to tell as he had a young face; he easily could have been a young 35. He had a slight stubble on his chin and upper lip in a clear attempt to make him look older. His features were dark, in contrast to his pale skin. His dark brown hair that was longer on top, and lost brown eyes spoke of a harmless innocence.
He smiled as he responded, "Crossroads Bible Camp. Not too far from here, about 5 minutes if you travel East down the main road."
This thrilled her. He was even more of a forbidden fruit, and she wondered if he'd be more of a challenge. She noticed as he spoke that he had beautiful white teeth, and she couldn't help imagine them being stained in cum.
"Oh, how long have you been there?" she feigned an interest as she put a hand on his side. He very subtly tensed at her touch.
He responded, something that she didn't care to listen to as her eyes were fixated on where she imagined his dick would be through his short-shorts.
"Oh, fascinating!" she responded when she could distantly tell he'd finished talking. "And do they make you wear this or do you choose to dress like that?" As she said this, she moved her hand down his side and slipped her forefinger into the waistband of his shorts and pulled the elastic out, relishing at the satisfying snap on his skin when the elastic rebounded.
She could tell by his stammering that he was taken aback at her comfort of toying with him. She also thought she could see his shorts getting tighter. She smiled, thinking to herself that sissies were all easy marks.
She smiled up at him with a devilish look in her eyes, "Don't worry, Mark. I'm just messing with you!"
"My name isn't Mark." he stated, flatly.
"Who cares?" She rolled her eyes as she again snapped the waistband of his booty shorts, and this time she caught an unmistakable hint of lace underneath.
She gasped, "My! What is this, Mark?" She pulled the waistband again and held it away from his body, getting a good look at the pink, lacey panties he wore underneath.
Mark nervously swatted her hand away as his eyes darted around the convenience store, panicked that someone would see his shameful secret.
"Please!" he started. The fact that they'd just met and he was already begging was music to her ears. Her eyes were focused on the anguish on clear display in his eyes.
"Oh Mark, what would the other counselors say if they knew you were wearing panties?" He continued to fidget, but in his panic he was unable to gather himself enough to make her stop. "What would they say if they knew you were queer?"
He said something unintelligible as she started slowly pulling down the waistband of his shorts. Then, she realized the shorts would only go down so far. She looked down, laughing when she saw he was already hard as a rock, trapping the shorts in place.
"Mark, Mark, Mark, your body betrays you. I think you might like me playing with you."
He sighed in frustration, "Please don't say anything. It is a very conservative camp, and I love my job."
"You like talking about you, huh? What about me? Tell me you are enjoying being my play thing."
He looked down at her, she had somehow gotten even closer to him, her finger still pulling on his shorts. He noticed that although she was a small size, she commanded herself with complete self-assurance. The assurity could have been that she had an arresting, angelic appearance, with long golden hair and deep blue eyes. He assumed she was used to getting what she wanted blessed as she was with her looks. A closer inspection and he could see the mischievousness behind her eyes.
As he stared, she nimbly moved her hand so that it was placed firmly on his ass. He gasped, and whispered, "Yes, I like being your plaything."
"Yes, Mistress J." she corrected with a slap.
"Yes, Mistress J." he agreed.
She laughed, "Good girl. Maybe I can train you yet, Mark."
He groaned, "Oh fuck..."
Mistress J pretended to be affronted, "Is that the kind of language you use with your camp attendees?"
"No, Mistress!"
"I might need to wash your whore mouth out if you don't clean up your language!"
"I'm sorry, Mistress!"
Her hand left his ass to pull his face down as she quietly threatened, "You look down as a sign of respect to me!"
"Yes, Mistress!" he quietly responded, unconsciously matching her volume.
She longed to play with her new toy, already sensing he was willing putty in her strong hands.
"Follow me, Mark." she commanded.
She began walking back out to her car, knowing he would follow. He didn't think he could walk with jelly legs and a raging hard on, but he was pulled along by an invisible tether. She shortly heard his hesitant steps behind her, and smiled to herself. She walked with purpose to her car door, and paused there.
Mark had been walking to the passenger side, assuming that was what his new Mistress wanted. He looked up for the first time since she forced him to look down and realized she was waiting for something. It clicked in his brain after a few moments that he should open her door for her. He scrambled to get to the other side, tripping over his own feet, and opened her door.
"You're not as dumb as you look, Mark."
He beamed at the backhanded compliment, and it confused him how happy he was to have this affirmation.
"When I compliment you, you thank me."
"Yes, Mistress! Thank you!" he quickly responded as his cock twitched.
He shut the door once she was safely inside, and ran to get to the passenger side, closing the door behind him as he took his place beside her.
"Tell me, Mark," she said, "do you just not care about your safety? You're willingly in a car with a woman you literally just met. Are you that desperate at the idea that a beautiful woman might touch you?"
Mark stammered.
"Or," she continued, "are you just desperate to live out your secret fantasy of being a sissy bitch whore?"
He did not think his dick could get any harder, but Mistress J kept showing him otherwise.
