Author's Note: This is a fictional story of an intense female dominant/male submissive relationship between a mature woman and much younger man. If you enjoy such stories, please read on - if not, please choose another more to your tastes. If you choose to read this story please vote and comment. Thank you - FJ.
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Preface
"There is an element of truth in all legends," Professor Abraham Van Helsing, Bram Stoker's
Dracula.
Fall 2020
COVID-19 had hit Clare Stanfield hard. She knew she was not alone in that. She also knew she had survived and prospered thru even more difficult times. Still, it was a real pain in the ass to have to make so many fundamental adjustments at this time in her life.
Clare had avoided the infection - more fortunate than some of her friends. But, her bustling business had collapsed overnight.
At five feet even, Clare was a 120 pound, voluptuous mature woman whose commanding presence in any group or situation belied her stature. Her short blonde hair was pulled straight back to fully reveal her lovely, expressive face centered on her large warm brown eyes. A small nose, upon which perched her elegant steel rimmed glasses and lush lips guarding even white teeth completed her oval face. Delicate lines of life etched her tanned facial skin emphasizing alternately her disarming smile or disapproving scowl.
Clare lived in an elegant, two story townhome in the walled, gated resort community of El Dorado, north of Tampa. She had moved to Florida 15 years ago from Illinois to escape the messy aftermath of an abusive marriage. As she rebuilt her life, she vowed to indulge the two central cores of her personality - an insatiable sexual appetite and her need to be in control.
She succeeded.
Clare's devoted second husband had died a year ago - 'just plain worn out' by the intensity of life with her. She had no close family ties. She enjoyed her life free of conventional restraint and centered it on her friends, business and resort community.
Heading into the fall, Clare was beginning to feel a bit desperate. With the loss of her husband and the advent of COVID she had consumed most of her small savings and found the opportunities for the sexual intercourse she depended on vastly diminished.
She looked to assuage both problems by renting the studio apartment on her first floor. She knew who she wanted as her tenant, but had just not found him yet. The seeming endless stream of interviews had revealed applicants that uniformly failed one or more of her stringent requirements. She saw her next applicant drive into the parking lot behind her home. When he emerged and walked around her building to her front door she was relieved and cautiously encouraged.
COVID-19 had hit Bill Franklin hard too. He knew he was not alone in that. He also knew he had survived and prospered thru even more difficult times. Still, it was a real pain in the ass to have to make so many fundamental adjustments at this time in his life.
Bill had avoided the infection. As a newly hired accountant at a firm in downstate Illinois when the corona virus hit, he was among the first to be let go. Scrambling, he found a job that could be done remotely except for the weekly in person meetings in Tampa. He packed his few belongings in his well used Honda CRV and drove with all dispatch to Florida. He was looking for an inexpensive place to rent and start his life anew.
Bill had no obligations, no family. He was an orphan, the sealed court records effectively barring him from knowledge of his past. He was a product of the Illinois foster care system, bandied from pillar to post. He was smart, knew it but had little direction to his life. He had been unable to keep a girlfriend or a close friend of either sex for that matter. If his IQ was high, his social IQ was not. There had been no long goodbyes when he abruptly left for Florida.
Bill had little money for the deposit, first month rent and last month rent typically required. He had a sparse credit history. He had been uniformly unsuccessful in finding a new permanent home with reliable internet connection close to Tampa - necessities if he was to start his new job. This was Friday and his new job started Monday. He needed a 'home' by then. He too was a bit desperate. Next on his list was the studio apartment advertised by Ms. Clare Stanfield.
The short phone call arranging the appointment revealed two things - Clare's deep rich mature voice - which Bill found very sexy - and Bill's clear young tenor voice - which Clare found equally appealing.
As Bill approached El Dorado, he noted the high, solid, gold painted stone walls which blocked any view of the community inside. An elaborate double gate system allowed him entrance after being cleared by the guard. Gaining directions to Ms. Stanfield's home, Bill began to slowly drive through the community. The modest single family homes, apartments and townhomes all appeared meticulously kept.
It was a warm sunny afternoon in Florida. Even so, Bill was surprised to see so many people wearing so few clothes. Many - men and women! - were topless! Some seemed to have on no clothes at all! And sure enough as he got close enough to confirm it, two young women, casually walking hand in hand, passed before his amazed gaze completely naked except for their sandals!
Confused, Bill parked his car in the lot behind the building holding Ms. Clare Stanfield's home. He put on his mask, grabbed his backpack, walked to the front of the building and stood before her front door, hand slightly trembling as he rang her bell.
Though standing by her front door when Bill rang the doorbell, Clare counted a leisurely ten before opening it, visibly increasing his anxiety. 'It's never too early to establish who is in charge,' she chuckled to herself.
Clare pulled the door aside and stood wordlessly assessing this new applicant. He was in his mid twenties, standing a chiseled six feet with tousled sandy hair and pale blue eyes, now opened in amazement.
"Bend your forehead down, Bill," Clare curtly commanded without preliminary as she reached a thermometer upwards.
Bill stood agape. Before him stood Ms. Clare Stanfield in all her mature womanly glory, wearing a black cloth mask - nothing else!
"I am waiting," Clare said with a hint of irritation in her deep, contralto voice.
Bill blinked once, then twice, then finally bent at the waist to bring his forehead into range of Clare's outstretched right hand. The view made him gasp as he stared in awe at the enormous breasts fronting the short blonde woman. His eyes were captivated by their firm watermelon size and shape, the smoothness of the uniformly tanned skin and the thick long nipples planted in the center of the generous dark pink areolas.
The thermometer beeped and Clare commented, "Normal. Good."
"Are you sick?" she asked the young man who, startled, tore his eyes away from her tits with regret and simply stared into her large, amused brown eyes.
"Are you feeling well?" Clare tried again.
"Yes!" Bill blurted a bit too loudly.
"Have you been in close contact with anyone who is sick?" Clare continued.
"No," Bill answered in a more measured tone.
"Good for us," Clare laughed gently, "I have no fever, I feel well and I haven't been around anybody who is sick either."