Follow My Sinstructions - Step 01

Greetings perverts.

As with most things that I write this series takes place in a happy alternate reality where people don't worry about pandemics, std's, or the need for birth control.

This story features heavy themes of submissive and dominant behavior, along with voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, orgasm denial, leash and collar play, and more.

If any of that is not your cup of tea, please take a look at some of my other stories and keep checking back because there are lots of other things I'm preparing to submit in other genre's.

The sexual feelings around submitting to a partner and dominating a partner are very personal to me, but they are kinks I enjoy and indulge in only within narrow parameters.

I am far from an expert on BDSM, nor is this story meant to be a definitive exploration of that lifestyle. As with most sexual kinks, your personal mileage may vary depending upon your partner and the desires you both share.

This is meant to be reflexive of some of my feelings and experiences, and of my own personal approach to submitting to a partner and dominating a partner. Some readers may find this intense. Others may find it fairly vanilla.

Regardless of where you fall, if you're interested and want to indulge in any of the kinks explored here, please do so only after lots of communication with your partner.

Two characters here.

Gabby: Nineteen years old at the beginning of the story, and this first chapter marks the very beginning of her journey into transforming into Mistress Gabriella.

Izzy: The mother of one of Gabby's friends, who senses sexual needs within Gabby that even Gabby is unaware of. She has another life as Mistress Isabella.

As always, I hope you enjoy reading about some of the things that arouse me in my fantasy life.

IsabellaEmily

~~

Cindy and I had been best friends forever.

We shared a birthday and started each school year by throwing a party together to celebrate.

Since neither of us had dates to our senior year fall formal last October we'd gone together, and somehow, we'd ended up paired up for our entire senior year.

No romance, no hand holding, no sentimental proclamations of love, just two friends of the same sex hanging out.

And it worked out just fine.

She was shy around guys and wanted to concentrate on her grades, and she didn't mind having a friend to laugh with at all the formal senior year functions.

And my romantic and sexual interests were definitely too complicated for my social circle, so I embraced the idea of being able to hang out with a good friend who made me laugh instead of chasing a steady romantic partner.

I was primarily attracted to women but that wasn't really a problem. Even in my rather conservative suburb there were several homosexual couples. My problem was that my sexual fantasies were more unusual than most.

The experiences I craved were a bit less mainstream than the handholding, make-out session, groping, stroking, and quick orgasms that most of my peers hungered for.

Because of those urges, I didn't really have any experience. With either gender. Even though I was primarily attracted to women, I was certainly curious about cock as a sexual experience, even if I suspected that I'd prefer women for romance.

I had accepted that I was one of those people burdened to be a 'late bloomer' due to the awkwardness of trying to find people who would understand my unusual needs and be able to help me explore them.

Even my masturbatory fantasies were largely unexplored, because I could never make myself orgasm.

I could certainly get aroused, and I knew where everything was and what was needed to climax, but I could never figure out how to get over that line that separated physical arousal from physical release.

So I fantasized a lot, and spent lots of time sexually frustrated, recognizing that there was a complicated need buried within me that I couldn't even explain to myself.

Not even Cindy, my best friend on the planet, knew about my feelings or needs.

She just assumed that my focus was on school, like hers was. We'd been friends since we were little kids, so spending time with her socially was a natural fit, that no one really questioned.

The only issue in my life was Cindy's mother, Isabella Foster. Her parents had been divorced for years, and her father was remarried and lived in California. The issue started during Christmas break of our senior year.

I'd started working at the movie theater at the start of the school year when I turned eighteen, and after work one night I went by Cindy's house after a closing shift to pick up my phone charger.

It was after midnight, but she'd promised to leave it on the front porch for me.

But when I drove up to the house, I saw Mrs. Foster on the front porch with the girls swimming coach. I'd just kept driving and pretended not to have seen them.

But I had not only seen them, I had also seen what they were doing.

Mrs. Foster was standing behind the other woman and had a fistful of her hair and jerked her head back just as I pulled to the curb. And then she kissed her, while pushing her other hand down into her pants.

But it wasn't just a kiss. It was aggressive and hungry, with her hand wrapped tightly in the other woman's hair while her other hand explored her body, and it did something primal to me.

I drove home soaking wet, with the image seared into my mind, where it would stay for months.

After that I couldn't hang out at their house without feeling awkward around her.

Without wanting to stare at her.

Without wanting her to kiss me.

Without wanting her to make me kiss her.

Without wanting her to handle me.

All she had to do was walk into the room and my panties would be drenched.

I thought about her all the time, and no matter how much I tried to ignore my feelings for her, they seemed to get stronger over time instead of fading.

And my fantasies about her became intensely specific.

I would daydream about her catching me naked in her house and taking me in her arms and holding me. I spent weeks thinking of that scenario, lying awake for hours wondering how it would feel.

And then one night while I lay in bed thinking about how I could possibly make it happen for real, I was hit with the realization that most people would be angry to find someone nude and uninvited in their house.

And thinking of her angry with me while I stood in front of her naked made me so hot that I could hardly catch my breath, and so wet that my arousal leaked through my pajama bottoms and all over my sheets.

The crush I developed on her made me do stupid things, and once, in a fit of clumsiness I spilled the contents of my backpack in front of her.

She'd bent down to help me pick them up, and at the same time we realized she'd picked up a paperback book called 'Lesbian Licker' that had been in my bag. She hadn't said a word, quickly pushing it in my bag with the rest of my stuff.

But she'd made eye contact with me and in that moment, I felt both relief and fear.

The look in her eyes told me that she knew exactly what I wanted, what I fantasized about, and what I needed. It was like she knew all my secrets and found them amusing and interesting.

I wasn't sure why I was so certain about her reaction, but I was.

And I was relieved.

But I was also afraid. The look in her eyes had been challenging. Almost as if she was daring me to admit things to myself that I was afraid to even think about.

I worried that she would think poorly of me for hiding from the very things I needed so badly.

But still, even if she never said anything, it was nice to think that someone else understood the strange things that aroused me.

Lesbian Licker was an erotic paperback novel, and while it did arouse me, it was poorly written, and the story wasn't very interesting. But it did give me one idea.

One of the characters in the story loved having her nipples pinched.

I began to experiment with that and discovered that if I read erotica while having a clothespin pinched tight on one of my nipples, I could get so deliciously wet and horny that I would almost get dizzy.

These things, coupled with the fact that Mrs. Foster seemed to be able to sense them within me, made me both embarrassed to be around her and want to be around her even more.

In August, shortly after we both turned nineteen, Cindy moved out to California to live with her dad and attend college. I missed her intensely of course.

But I think I missed seeing Isabella even more. I was working at the movie theater and saving for school, and my social life had come to a halt since all my friends had left for college.

Cindy and I still texted, and video chatted all the time.

I'd lost my reason to spend time at her house though, and I hadn't seen her mother in nearly two months.

But during that time, I'd found myself alone in bed late at night with drenched panties, just from imagining how her lips would feel against mine.

I resisted the urge to touch myself, as I had for so long, knowing that instead of an orgasm it would lead to physical frustration. So I lay there in the dark with a thudding heart, wondering about myself.

And wondering about Isabella Foster.

I wanted so badly to go over to Cindy's house and see her, but always told myself I would look foolish just stopping by for no reason.

Which is why I was so happy to find Cindy's phone charger behind the couch in our family room. When I picked it up, I realized I was holding a reason to go to her house. And a reason to talk to her mom.

It wasn't a good reason of course, since she'd long since replaced the charger before we even graduated.

But it technically belonged to her and even though she wasn't even living in the state anymore, I figured it should be returned to her house.

But as I stood on the front porch and knocked on her door just after ten on a Saturday morning, I suddenly realized exactly how lame my reason for being there was. My stomach was filled with butterflies when Mrs. Foster answered the door.

"Gabriella!" she said with a wide smile, pushing open the screen door. "What brings you by?"

"I found this under our couch and decided that it made more sense for you to have it than me." I said, holding up the charger.

"The infamous charger she was looking for." She laughed. "I think she's still convinced that I hid it from her."

"Well now you can exonerate yourself." I told her. "Or save it for an I-told-you-so down the line somewhere."

"Always good to have one of those in the bank." She laughed. "Come on in as long as you're here. I haven't seen you in forever."

I followed her into the cool house, and she led me into the kitchen.

"Want some coffee?" she asked. "Or a bottle of water?"

"Water would be great." I said. "I have to be at work later this afternoon."

"Good." She declared. "You'll have time to stay and visit for a while?"

"I'd like that." I said.

She handed me a bottle and gestured towards their back porch.

I've always liked their back porch. It was screened in and had a great view of the lake, and most of all it was quiet and peaceful and there were no nearby neighbors.

"How have you been?" I asked her. "I haven't really seen you since Cindy left."

I followed her out to the porch, and she sat in a wicker chair and I sat on the two-person glider, both of us facing out towards the lake.

"I've been keeping busy as best I can." She said. "The house has been terribly quiet without the two of you around. It's almost like you both left town."

"I'm sorry about that." I said. "I've thought about stopping by, but I didn't want you to think I was being clingy or weird."

"I've missed you." She said. "You're welcome here anytime. I mean it. Feel free to stop by to be weird. Or to cling."

The word 'cling' hung in the air for a moment, and I had a feeling that something had happened that I hadn't quite caught.

"I guess I'll have to stop by more often then." I said. "I've missed you too Mrs. Foster."

"How is your father?" she asked softly. "And call me Izzy. We know things about each other that no one else knows. No need to be formal."

"Okay.....Izzy." I said. "My father is fine. He's adjusting to being single. He's working a lot of hours. He's not handling life as well as you do."

"I'm not an expert on handling life." She smiled. "I just know things about people."

"You do?" I asked.

"I do." She said with a grin. "It comes with being a mother. And it also comes with being sort of tuned in to people's, well, let's say frequencies."

"Frequencies?" I asked her.

It was getting gray outside, and we were sitting in a cool breeze as the sky began to clous up. We continued to speak to each other, while facing towards the lake.

"It's not foolproof." She said. "It took me a long time to figure you out. But then one afternoon you suddenly made sense to me."

"I did?" I asked.

"Yes." She said. "I think I can make some pretty good guesses about you Gabriella."

"Guesses?" I asked. "Or do you actually know something?"

I felt hot and unsettled, as if I might start crying at any moment, and I didn't understand why.

"I don't know for sure." She said. "But I suspect very much that you are a lot like me."

"I don't think I've ever spent time with someone who's a lot like me." I said. "At least not in the way we're talking about."

"Gabriella." She said softly. "I know that you're attracted to girls. Believe me I really do understand that. You saw me on the porch that night. I think you and I want the same things. In the same ways. For some of the same reasons."

I nodded my head while staring at the lake, afraid to look at her. I suddenly felt tears burn in my eyes and that angered me. I wanted her to think of me as a woman, instead of as an inexperienced and scared nineteen-year-old girl.

"What do you think I want?" I asked softly.

I drank the last of my water, trying to clear the sudden quiver out of my voice.

"I think it's more about what you need." She said. "I think need and want are the same for you. And I think you need things that so far, you've only imagined. And some things you haven't even dared to imagine."

I looked over at her across the porch, my throat dry and my palms sweaty.

"Do you know what those things are?" I asked softly.

"I do." She said. "I know what they are, and I know how much you lust after them. Believe me girl, I know."

"Do you know where I can find them?" I asked her.

She got up and moved next to me, sitting down with barely an inch left between us.

"Yes." She said. "If you want to seek them out."

I looked at her, and as rain started to gently hit the roof of the porch, I couldn't be entirely sure, but her eyes seemed to be daring me to ask the next question.

"I do want them." I said softly. "Where do I look?"

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

My head was spinning.

I had spent lots of time with her over the years. But always as the mother of one of my friends. As I'd gotten older, we'd gotten friendlier of course, but she'd always been 'Mrs. Foster' to me.

Now suddenly she was Izzy. A real person who was boldly challenging me to do something that both frightened and intrigued me.

I was suddenly struck with the certainty that if I took a chance, I'd discover what she was offering, and could decide if I wanted it then.

I was equally certain that if I turned away from this opportunity, I would regret it every day until I died.

"I do." I said quietly. "I trust you. Izzy."

"Completely?" she asked me.

"Yes." I said, though I wasn't entirely sure.

She stared at me, from inches away, as if considering what I'd said.

"What I'm offering you is a chance to experience pleasure Gabriella." She said.

As if for emphasis there was a loud rumble of thunder in the distance.

"And not just ordinary pleasure." She continued. "Romantic pleasure. Emotional pleasure. And sexual. A complete and total sexual pleasure, along with sexual power and energy that will change your life. Forever. Are you ready for that?"

I nodded my head.

"Answer me, Gabriella." She whispered. "If you're really ready, you need to say it. Out loud."

"I'm ready." I said.

"I'm not talking about orgasms. Or dating. Or sex. Or even romance." She said. "I'm offering you something that is absolute and powerful. A sexual life beyond your fantasies. Beyond what you know."

"Yes." I said, even more sure with each word she spoke. "I want that. I need that."

"Then we will begin." She said. "Right now this morning. But two things first."

"Okay." I said, nodding my head.

I couldn't believe that a half an hour ago I was returning a phone charger and hoping to spend ten minutes making small talk.

My hands were shaking, and my heart was thumping in my chest like I had just run ten miles. What was I getting into? What was I agreeing to?

"First," she said, "take off your panties so we can trade."

"What?" I asked softly.

"Do you want to take this step with me or not Gabriella?" she asked.

"Yes." I said. "I do."

"Then commit to it. Not just with words. Commit to what we're going to do together with all of yourself." She said. "Are you aroused right now? Are you wet?"

How did she know?

"I am." I admitted, my voice trembling

"Then commit that arousal to me. It's mine. Take off your panties and give them to me." She told me.

I stood up, embarrassed and unsure, feeling her eyes upon me.

I unbuttoned my pants, and kicked my shoes off, before pushing my pants down over my hips, and then sliding them down my thighs.

She reached out and touched my hip, her fingers sliding along my lacy pink panties.

"Those are sexy and sort of slutty." She said. "Are you dressed for work already Gabriella?"

"Yes I am." I said, my voice shaking.

"You dressed early because you were hoping to spend some time with me?" she asked.

"Yes." I said softly. "I was."

"Do you always wear such slutty panties, Gabriella?" she asked.

"Sometimes." I admitted, stepping out of my pants. "I like the way it feels to dress like that. Even if it's under my clothes where no one can see."

"Take them off." She said.

I hooked my thumbs in them and slid them off, and then I stood in front of her, still wearing my t-shirt, but nude from the waist down.

She stood up and pushed her yoga pants down, taking her panties along with them, and stepped out of them.

We were both standing facing each other on her back porch, both of us wearing our shirts, but naked from the waist down.

"Give me your panties." She said.

I held them out to her, and she took them, bringing them to her face.

She inhaled softly, and then quickly held my panties in front of her and stepped into them.

"You smell delicious." She said. "And I can feel how wet you are."

My body felt like it was vibrating all over, and I had never felt the way I did at that moment.

"Pick up my panties and put them on." She told me.

She had laid her pants on the loveseat, and I reached over and picked them up, pulling her panties out of them before holding them in front of me and stepping into them. As I pulled them up, I realized that they were as wet as mine had been.

They were a pale blue, made of a simple soft cotton, and incredibly comfortable.

At the moment they were the single most erotic thing I'd ever felt or imagined.

"Now your arousal is mine." She told me. "Your arousal from before we began our journey together belongs to me, and all of your arousal from now on will leak into my panties. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I said.

"Good." She said. "Because from this morning on, you will wear only panties that belong to me and that I give you. Agreed?"

"Yes." I said nodding. "Agreed."

"That brings me to the second thing." She said. "Do you know where my bedroom is?"