I was always a shy guy who had a hard time getting girlfriends. By the time I was 20 and going to college, I was still a virgin. My sex life consisted solely of masturbating to dirty magazines, videos, and the like. Often I fantasized about being dominated by one or more females, but I hadn't gotten even close to acting it out. That year, I moved into a new dorm, which consisted of bunch of small buildings rather than one big zoo. My room overlooked the parking lot and the next "house".
One September afternoon, my roommate was out and I was all alone. Somehow I got horny and decided to close the curtains and have a fun time with my hands. Suddenly, while I was in the middle of tugging my thing, I heard a beautiful female voice from outside. I decided to take a peek and see whose it is. It was one of the students moving into the next house, a gorgeous reddish-blonde tall girl. She was wearing shorts that showed off the sexiest pair of legs I had seen around campus.
Upon seeing her, I couldn't help let out a loud whistle. But wait, she heard it! Oops, remembering I was naked with a dick in hand, I quickly ducked away and closed the curtain as she looked my way. I then drifted back into the waves of ecstasy with her body engraved in my memory, and that was that, or so I thought ...
A couple of weeks later, on a Friday night, my roommate, Randy, and I were drifting around the dorm looking for party. We were bored to die, especially with our house being a substance-free house. Randy was much better with the female kind and he got us invited to hang out with 3 chicks who live in the house opposite us. So we walked over there, brining our drinks, only to be greeted by none other than that girl whom I whistled to. She introduced herself as Sylvie, and introduced us to her two roommates.
Quickly we got comfortable and got to know each other more. At some point, finding out we lived in that room by the parking lot, Sylvie brought up the subject of the whistle. My roommate was surprised, but she kept saying "I swear it was your room", and pointed out seeing the curtains move. Seeing no choice, I had to fess up. She said she likes it when people whistle for her (good), but was wondering why I hid back. I quickly made up a story about my getting high - in a substance-free house - and hence wanting to remain discreet.
I don't know what got into me. Later that night, as the booze flowed and we even got more comfortable, I was leaning back on the floor with her next to me. I whispered in her ear: "You know why I hid that day when I whistled to you"? "Why?" "I was masturbating!"
She paused for a moment, and I thought "that's it, I lost it". She whispered in my ear "so that's the story. Of course you wouldn't want anyone else to know, like my roommates, or your roommate." The evil glint in her eyes scared me.
"Yes, you're not planning to tell anyone, are you?"
She thought about it for a second, then whispered in a firm tone: "No I'm not planning to tell anyone, but you need to do things for me, to please me."
"Uh, like what things?"
"You know, clean up my room, drive me around, do my laundry."
It didn't sound too bad, the way she said it, but that was the beginning of my enslavement to her. I didn't mind the least, thinking that doing all those chores for her will at least bring me closer to her.
As if to drive the deal through, she leaned even closer to me and slowly whispered one word: "MAS-TUR-BA-TOR!"
Well, that did it. I had no choice but to accept. From then on I visited her 2-3 times a week, helping her with whatever chores she asked me to do. Cleaning her room, cleaning her bathroom, hauling her shopping (and sometimes paying for it). My favorite time was when she let me do her laundry, which would afford me to dive into her most intimate objects. Bras, underwear, hosiery - all soaked with her fragrance and available for me to do whatever I wanted with it.
She must have noticed the long time I spend in the laundry room, for sometimes she would tease me about it. "I don't know if I can trust you with my laundry anymore. All my panties have crotch worn out from sniffing." "Why is it that my stockings are stuck together after you wash them, MAS-TUR-BA-TOR"?
I loved it when she used that word. It was maximum humiliation. She knew my secret and wasn't afraid to blurt it out. So I just had to keep apologizing about her laundry and promise to serve her better.
One day, our relationship took an unanticipated turn. I was hanging out in my room when she called. Her roommates were away, and she was tired after exercising and badly needed a massage. "Great" I thought - finally a more intimate chore. So I rushed over to her room, to find her laying on her stomach on the bed in only her underwear. I froze by the door for a moment absorbing the beautiful sight: her long slender back, her bulbous globes bursting through the thin fabric of her panties, and her beautiful, long, legs.
Soon, I got down to business and was rubbing her back. I took my time to work her neck and shoulder muscles, then worked all the way up and down her back. Her bra strap was getting in the way. Wishfully, I suggested she remove her bra and was surprised when she agreed and ordered me to help her take it off. Excellent.
It was all I could to concentrate on the job despite my raging hard-on.
