To My Mistress: A Tale of Lesbian Seduction Part Two
A Little Shopping On The Way To A Punishment
Or
Enter The Proprietress
In Part One, our young female narrator was working the front desk of a posh hotel in London. She had no experience with lesbian or BDSM sex, and seemed to have no inkling that she might be interested in them. Her sex life with her live-in boyfriend had turned rather dull. But the older woman Camille checked in that day, and made an impression. When Camille basically commanded our narrator to meet her for drinks afterwards, our narrator complied. It turned out that Monte, our narrator's manager, had singled her out as Camille's type, and alerted Camille, who flew to London from the states for a vacation.
Camille turned on her domme charm over drinks, and our narrator found herself being seduced. She eagerly accompanied Camille up to her room. Apparently she was attracted, and was going to try a lesbian fling. But things turned when Camille compelled our narrator to go down on her hands and knees. She was collared, led in to Camille's room by leash, and told of her new circumstances. She was now Camille's slave. Camille was her mistress. Our narrator was free to leave anytime, but she felt compelled to see this strange new experience through.
Camille took ownership after her new slave passed Her Mistress' five stages of submission. She consented to address Camille as Her Mistress, was collared and leashed on her hands and knees, and butt-fucked. She cleaned the strap-on from her ass with her mouth, and was marked by Her Mistress in a golden shower.
Our new slave knows she should be disgusted by some of Her Mistress'
depraved requirements, but is strangely turned on by them instead. She desperately wanted to cum last night, but that was not allowed.
Chapter Seven
I hesitated, out in the corridor that first night. That was a mistake. Big mistake. When I was told "it would really be best for you to get on your hands and knees" outside the door to her room, I should have dropped instantly. I didn't really know what was going on, even though I knew something was going on. Camille had clearly been seducing me earlier in the bar, after my shift at the hotel was over. Her seduction had actually started before she'd even met me. Her longtime friend Monte the hotel manager had alerted her that a likely candidate for her needs might be manning the front desk. She then sowed the seeds of her dominance over that drink. I still hadn't figured out how bent this thing was going as she led me up to her room. Oh, I knew I wasn't going up to that room to catch up on
The Crown
, but I had yet to grasp what our relationship really was. At the time, I just thought this was going to be the material for my one lesbian experience anecdote. All we girls have them, right? Still, I didn't go down on my hands and knees instantly. I hesitated. Ignorance of the rules is a plausible excuse, right?
Wrong!
I wanted to cum so bad that night. I'd done everything she'd asked...excuse me, commanded. My Mistress never asks. But she had her rules. Slaves are not allowed to cum on their first night of servitude. No problem then, right? I'd been a good slave that first night. Surely I'd be able to cum the next night. Well, maybe I would have, if I hadn't hesitated out in that corridor.
Let this be a lesson to you: if you're going to jump into something dark and perverted, jump in fast and deep. That oh-so-slight hesitation might have just seemed like a sensible case of the nerves to me, but it was flagrant disregard of the rules to My Mistress. I had to be punished before I would be allowed an orgasm. It was to set an example for my future behavior, according to her. In reality, it was to satisfy her deep need for sadism. She needed to inflict some pain and humiliation on me, and it needed to be wrapped up in ritual.
Chapter Eight
The Day After That Night: I could not believe how badly I wanted to cum all day. It was almost impossible to concentrate on the front desk. I'm sure the guests thought I was cuckoo. I was just lucky that my manager was responsible for putting me on My Mistress' radar in the first place. He basically ignored my general uselessness throughout the day. It was obviously not his first rodeo with a brand new slave on the desk. My mind kept drifting back to all those perverted things we got up to last night. The collar, the crawling, the feet-licking, the anal fucking, and all those commands she gave me. The way she laid out the terms of my servitude while I stared at her toes down on the floor. Even thinking about the downright disgusting parts, like the pissing and the ass-to-mouth made me wet. I swear I could still taste her piss and the dirty strap-on in my mouth, even though I'd brushed and mouth-washed like nobody's business since then. I just wanted to lock myself in a closet and rub an epic one out. My mind drifted back to...
"I need to cum so badly. Will I be allowed to cum tonight, my Mistress?"
"No. I do not allow slaves to cum on their first night of servitude. They need to know that they serve me. You will be allowed to cum the night after tomorrow."
"Why so long, my Mistress?"
"You need to be punished first. You hesitated out in the corridor tonight."
Those were the words from last night that were haunting me all day. What form would her punishment take? She hadn't given me any hints. Would I be spanked over her knee like a little girl? Whipped with a bull-whip like an animal? Something more cruel and psychological? I sure hoped it wouldn't involve clamps or needles or tens units or anything like that. I was pretty sure I had limits. Well, maybe not. I had gone from zero kinky experiences to drinking piss in the course of a single evening night. Yeah, limits. Sure.
I woke up naked in My Mistresses bed this morning. She'd had her executive assistant basically rearrange my life while she took me the night before. I was staying with her for the week, while my boyfriend got a series of texts with plausible explanations for my absence. I was allowed to call and talk to him personally once a day, but My Mistress wanted her assistant to handle all other communication. I was hers, and she wanted me to stay focused on my servitude to her. Eh, whatever. I love him (I guess), but I don't mind the break at all.
After taking a golden shower from My Mistress in the morning (my second in less than 24 hours! Soooo disgusting. Why am I still day-dreaming about it?), I was given the room to get myself together and report downstairs for my shift. I had no contact from My Mistress during the entire workday. I should know. I checked my phone obsessively for texts. I practically got whiplash from swinging my head to look every time the lift dinged. I briefly wondered if she'd had second thoughts, and skipped out on me.
Nope. At the exact moment my shift ended, the elevator opened. A smart looking woman in her late thirties stepped out. Skinny, slicked back short brown hair and a dark blue business suit. Looked like the typical corporate management type we get here. She stood in front of me and handed me a card. It read:
This is my Executive Assistant. Ma'am to you. She is tasked with preparing you for the night. Follow her commands as if they were mine, for they are.
Your Mistress.
"You have four-and-a-half minutes to do whatever you need to do in that bathroom" Ma'am said, "Then you'd better be standing out her in front of me before five minutes are up."
"Yes, Ma'am."
I hurried. Wasn't time to do too much besides splash some water on my face and dab my hair. I was back out in four minutes flat.
"How nice. You're eager. Follow me."
The Executive Assistant led me through the lobby and out the entrance. Once on the street she said, "No speaking unless spoken to. You are on duty now. Clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good."
Chapter Nine
Ma'am led me across the street to...oh wow, she led me to that high-end lingerie shop directly across from our hotel. I hoped against hope, but I could just feel the porter's eyes boring holes in the back of my skull. I'm sure they stopped whatever they were doing to watch me go into that shop with another woman.
Ma'am held the door open for me and ushered me in. Then she motioned for me to sit on a bench while she stood. It was so pretty in there, all that pink and white lace. One could get lost in all the frilly knickers.
A woman with a most commanding presence came strolling out. She sort of resembled a kinked out version of Annette Bening, with teased, wavy brown hair and glasses. She looked to be in her 50's, and kind of looked like an old punk who'd never reformed. She wore leather trousers, Doc Martens, and a pink corset that just about covered her breasts. Her shoulders were bare. She was in good shape, and had a figure that could carry her outfit off rather well. She greeted Ma'am with a warm smile and hands on shoulders.
"Beverly, how are you? So good to see you again. I'd heard you graduated from serving your Mistress."
