Through a combination of hard work and good luck I was able to retire early last year in my mid fifties. What should have been a time to take up new activities has largely been wasted, simply put because there is no longer an imperative to be up at six every morning I've started drinking too much.
I do however have a dog who is demanding and expects a walk at about 7.20 every morning and being a creature of habit enjoys the same walk over the fields behind my house after her breakfast. So, often with a headache and feeling hungover (me not her) we head off into the fields for an hour or so.
Clearly other dogs and people have similar habits and we tend to see the same people most mornings. Cheerful good mornings are exchanged and of course the obligatory conversations held about the weather.
Among these dog walkers one has always stood out. A tall immaculately turned out lady, late fifties and attractive without trying too hard, she has two Labradors, one chocolate the other golden. She has always stopped for a slightly longer chat and while never an interrogation I realise that she knows far more about me than I do about her.
A few weeks ago, on a cold sunny morning, we stopped as normal for a chat. Somewhat inevitably, although the cold weather was helping, I was walking around in a bit of a haze, the effects of last night's excesses gently working their way out of my system.
"Good morning"how are you?" I said.
"I'm well thanks" she replied "and you?" I confessed to regretting being a little hungover at which she raised her eyebrows. "I've noticed a few mornings that you have appeared the worse for wear and wondered why, well now I know. You said you regret feeling hungover, why is that?" I explained my circumstances and how without the imperative to be up and functioning well in my relatively senior role I had found it too easy simply to drink to excess while watching TV at night. Really the simple story was one of no discipline in my life.
"I can help with that" she said. I was naturally mildly puzzled by what she meant and asked her to elaborate. "In general," she replied fixing me with a cold stare "I find my cane to possess extraordinary motivating powers."
Now, if I'd not been drinking the night before this was the point when I'd have worked out what she meant and headed rapidly off into the sunrise. As it was with my head barely capable of working out what day of the week it was I just stared back unable to work out how to reply.
"Look, why don't you come back to my house now, mine is the old farmhouse at the far end of the field and we can have a chat?" Starting to come out of my dream world I muttered that I hadn't yet had a shower that morning and was wearing dirty clothes which were definitely not up to a social visit.
"That's not a problem, you can have a quick shower at mine while I make the coffee and I'll find a dressing gown or something you can wear until it's time to leave. Now come on, let's go!" With that she turned around and headed off. Feeling completely out maneuvered I followed meekly behind while my dog continued to play with hers.
I can't remember what we talked about on the 10 minute walk back to her house but there was no further mention of her esoteric motivational techniques. Once at hers she instructed me to remove my boots and to follow her. We went upstairs to a large bedroom, the most striking feature of which was a four-poster bed. She told me that the shower and toilet if I wanted it were behind a wall at the far end - there was interestingly no door but the wall afforded privacy.
"I'll leave you to your shower" she said "leave your clothes on the bed and I'll leave something appropriate for you to wear when you come out." I thanked her and once she left the room I quickly stripped off and headed for the shower still quite unsure how things had developed so quickly and seemingly beyond my control.
The shower was helpful and I was feeling a little refreshed. I quickly dried myself off and went back into the bedroom. There was surely some sort of mistake or maybe a joke was being played. My clothes had all disappeared and in their place was a very short lady's silk wrap with a note instructing me to put it on and to come downstairs. I checked the cupboard doors in the hope of finding something altogether more suitable but, inevitably, the doors were locked.
Accepting my fate I put the thin, and evidently mildly transparent robe on and tied the silky strap around my waste. It only just covered my cock and balls but it really was only just. I went down the stairs, feeling particularly embarrassed, to all intents and purposes I may as well have been naked. My host was in the kitchen dressed in a white blouse and tight jodhpurs, long blonde hair tied in a pony tail. She looked amazing, I felt a minor twitch below the silk robe and fought to preserve what little there was of my dignity desperately trying not to get aroused.
She smiled when she realised I was there. "Sorry about the clothing, it was the best I could find, it suits you!" She laughed and said I'd get my clothes back when I left and now to pick up my coffee and follow her. She led the way to her lounge and settled into an armchair. I continued to stand, conscious that if I were to sit my cock and balls would be on full display. She pointed to a sofa directly opposite her chair and instructed me to sit. I explained my predicament at which she laughed "just sit down, you have nothing I haven't already seen."
Face flushed I did as instructed desperately trying in vain to pull the robe down to cover my embarrassment. Trying to regain a little control I mentioned that despite being in her house with all on display I realised I had never asked her name. She knew mine as a result of the one way flow of information most mornings. "I think you should call me Mistress from now on, it seems appropriate."
