Part I
I was 19. I was still a girl, not a woman. However, my preferences were already clear to me. I am not a lesbian or a bisexual. I like men. But more than that I like to see how they like me.
That I like to be appreciated by men is nothing extraordinary. Every girl and every woman does the same. But for me it is an understatement. I like to see them burning in desire for me. The naked lust in their eyes is what turns me on.
In many ways I am a dominatrix, although I never wear any costumes. Nor do I use any whips. I use my body instead. But I always tie them up.
In more ways I am a completely normal woman. I also enjoy standard sex without any domination on any part. But then again, properly submissive men are not that easy to find. But I have found quite a few over the years.
I was 19 then. It was not my first encounter and I already had experiences.
He was 47. That age makes men fall for the young pretty things very easily. I did not know this guy previously. He came to the joint where I used to work as a waitress and then kept coming quite regularly. He would sit in one corner and stare at me the whole time. I was very much aware of his stare. I even wondered at times if he actually ever blinked. I also made it a point to take his orders myself and would not let the other girl go to his table. Initially he was quite careful and would not look at me directly when I would be looking in his direction. But then his courage grew and he became much more direct. Then one day I saw him looking straight at my breasts as I was writing down his order standing right next to him. Very soon this became the norm.
I think it was the third week when I found him sitting straight with one hand under the table. I went about my work as usual although I knew there was a guy sitting in the corner and masturbating while looking at me. Same thing happened on the next two days. On the fourth day I was prepared. About five minutes after his hand disappeared under the table, I picked up a bunch of paper napkins and dropped them on his table and left without saying a word. His activity went into a pause mode instantly but it was resumed after a while.
Two more days passed. He was a regular customer by then. Both days I had supplied him with napkins. On the third day he took a bold step. Just as I was dropping the napkins on his table, he grabbed my wrist and looked at me. Then he said with a croaked voice, "You'd like a little love, hon?" I smiled inwardly at this clichΓ© pick-up line and told him, "You'd like to be tied up?" His jaw dropped. So I said again, "I'll call the shots. You will be powerless in my hands. Does that suit you?" He was still gaping at me. So I decided to give him some time for thinking. I told him, "If you throw that tissue on the floor while going out, then I will take it as a yes."
He left after twenty minutes. I picked up the crumpled napkin from the floor with the sticky goo in it and threw it into the bin.
Next day he had come earlier than usual. As I went to his table his hand slipped immediately under the table. I looked at it and smiled. He was looking at my breasts and was getting red in his face. "So you want to be my plaything?" I asked him. He just nodded. "Day after tomorrow," I told him, "I have to attend a party in the evening. So it will be late in the evening. Not before eleven. Wait for me near the bus stop on the opposite side of the road. We will go to my place." He just nodded again. I took a bunch of napkins from the counter and came back to his table. He grabbed a few and went back to his work. I did not move from my place. It took him a few seconds to understand what was happening. Then his eyes grew wide. His hand started making jerky movements underneath. His eyes were glued to my breast. I let him look. His face had gone red. His other hand flew out to touch my bottom. I slapped it away. "'You can only look," I said. He nodded again.
After a couple of minutes his body jerked once and then he stopped. I wrote down his order.
Part II
I had not lied to him. I actually had a party. But it was no wild stuff. It was just a cocktail dinner to celebrate my friend's Mom's fiftieth birthday. But it gave me the perfect reason to wear a cocktail dress. I was itching to wear it for two reasons: one, it was new and two, I wanted to try it on somebody. I saw that somebody standing near the bus stop a little after 11.
He was disappointed on his first glance as he could not see much of me. It was quite chilly and I had an overcoat on my dress. It was all buttoned up and reached my knees. So all he could see were my blue-grey high heels. I was not wearing stockings.
We did not say a single word. He was too excited to say anything and I was too busy planning my activities for the next few hours. We came home in a taxi. I deliberately let him pay.
As we were inside I made sure that all windows were closed and curtains drawn. At that time I hated piping Toms, which changed somewhat over the next years.
He was standing in the middle of my small apartment. It had a living room with a kitchenette and two bedrooms for me and my roommate. The roommate had very conveniently taken up a job at an all-night pizza joint leaving me completely free to do anything at night. We had also made a kind of pact. At night the apartment belonged to me and she would call and give a thirty minutes warning before coming back β in case she needed to come back in the middle of the night. I used to follow the same procedure during day time when the apartment belonged to her.
I could see that he was excited. His eyes were glowing. I also understood perfectly the reason behind this. I was still wearing my overcoat preventing him from seeing anything. This time it was not a visual turn-on for him. Now it was pure anticipation of what was coming. Or what he thought was coming. People of that age find girls of my age absolutely irresistible. To him my soft and unblemished skin, my silky long hair and my still-teenage curves were symbols of pure and untouched beauty. Now he was dreaming in his mind about how to ravage the beauty and maybe make a mark of ownership on it. But that was, unfortunately for him, not going to happen.
I went into my room and came back with some nylon ropes and tape. I dropped them on the kitchenette countertop. I also saw him looking at them. Now he was almost smacking his lips. Without a word I stood in front of him and started unbuttoning his shirt. I took off his shirt and then simply pulled down his pants.