Stepping Into Real

Realizing he was ready to take that step from anonymous man typing with an erection to an adult "boy" offering himself for another's direction, another's enjoyment, he was filled with a trembling apprehension -- and uncontrollable desire. Hearing her voice on the phone saying "Come to me now," he knew a new venture was about to commence, a new part of him was about to be unveiled and explored.

He had recently discovered a new measure of stimulation by way of his new home computer and on-line surfing; he came eventually to know that this was not merely "fantasy." He understood, in time, that there were real people behind the screen names on the monitor, that there were real bodies behind the typed words, that there were physical acts that were actually performed. His curiosity had led him to Ms. Sarah.

A cab ride across town and a stop for flowers later, Jon was at the address given him by his, until that day, cyber Mistress. The grayness of the afternoon and muted sounds of the city lent itself to the already dreamlike atmosphere surrounding him. Approaching the doorman at the desk of the high-rise, Jon left his All-American, clean-cut self aside. Skin trembling, feeling all the world knew what he was there for, he asked for entry to Sarah's place and was directed to the 20th floor. His heart, he felt, could be heard by the other two persons riding the elevator with him. He had nodded hello, and tried a "hello" but his dry mouth didn't allow more than a grunted sound. Upon arriving at Ms. Sarah's door, he would do as he was directed via the prior phone conversation -- and thereafter whatever his new Mistress commanded.

A knock on the door. A few seconds wait. An unhinged lock and an opening door. Stepping inside, he saw her sensuous form. His breathe caught in his throat. Her big beautiful body was dressed in a black lace camisole, thigh-high stockings and shiny black shoes, polished to reflect the light of her apartment. Going to his knees not three feet from the front door, he kissed her shoes, and licked along their sides. His first glimpse would be the only one he would get of his "director" for several minutes -- he was to worship her feet, her shoes, her ankles and her legs until she strode away. No words were spoken as his actions relayed all the communication needed for the time being. When she raised her foot to offer her sole, he licked the dusty bottom with the full breadth of his moist tongue.

After what seems like an hour, she strode away and sat on the couch. Kneeling as she had left him, body flushed with excitement, he felt a charge in him that he'd never before known.

"Stand up," said Ms. Sarah calmly. Jon rose.

"Get in the middle of the room," she continued.

"Yes, Ma'am." Jon strode the six steps to the center of the carpeted penthouse apartment.

"Did I direct you to speak, slut?"

Jon shook his head, realizing he had forgotten her first rule, given him via phone only an hour earlier.

A sly smile became apparent on her red, brightly painted lips. "You will be punished for your error. You understand that, don't you?"

Nodding his head, Jon wondered what it would be. He had mixed feelings about the thought, toying with the idea of "erring" again so as to enhance his anticipation. He yearned for challenge, he yearned to be used. He felt his limits were few and he questioned whether any woman was truly strong enough, commanding enough, to garner his respect, his attention, his obedience. He figured, however, it would be best to see what the initial "punishment" would consist of before pushing further. It was to be a wise decision, and the last one he'd freely make that day.

"Strip for me, pet." Her voice a bit firmer now, she seemed to be reading his mind. She seems to have had strong-willed men before her before. Crossing her legs she lit a cigarette and leaned back, her right arm draped over the back of the couch. She took a puff from her cigarette and slowly expelled the smoke toward him.

He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, clumsily. Mistress Sarah giggled through another drag of her cigarette. His torso was bare and she seemed pleased by the sight of the red-brown hair covering his strong physique. He bent over to untie his running shoes, kicking them gently aside. His sockless feet felt good on her rug.

"Hold it right there slut." Jon paused and wondered.

"Are you sure you want to be mine? Are you sure you want to offer yourself to me? Were you being perfectly honest when we spoke on the phone today ... and honest with me regarding all those promises you've made to me over the past couple of months? For, you realize, that once you are nude before me and you offer yourself to me, you will be mine for this night. And, each time you come to me, and exhibit yourself to me as you are about to do, I will own you -- as a pet, as a piece of property -- limited only by those few limits you profess to have. Do you understand all of this? Do you wish to proceed?"

Jon nodded, the wave of apprehensive washing over him not nearly enough to upset the confidence he felt about needing to be used. He was coming to realize that Ms. Sarah was not one to be challenged. He would be challenged. He tried to recollect all that he had told his Mistress he would do for her.

Jon's Mistress walked across the room and drew the lockbolt across the back of her apartment door and returned to the couch.