Chapter 18 - Robert
I normally wouldn't have popped in like this, but I was on a job site all day near Flint and on my way home these two kids were selling bouquets on the side of the road. Actually, they picked whatever wildflowers were growing on the side of the road. They had them tied in the same kinds of curly-cue ribbons that are used to tie onto helium balloons. They were selling them for two bucks a piece. I gave them a twenty and they screamed and jumped up and down. They were so cute. I imagined that Andrea would be just as excited.
I got the door with the flowers behind my back and didn't expect to see ...
"Gabby?" I whispered.
She looked as shocked as I but quickly composed herself.
"Greta," she said as he extended her hand to shake mine. "Good to finally meet you!"
This was awkward. Very awkward.
"Good to meet you, too," I said, doing my best to sound as if I was meeting her for the first time.
I followed her over to the kitchen table where she started unpacking some carry-out bags.
"We were just about to have some dinner, but luckily I brought enough dessert to tide me over for a meal if you'd rather have wild mushroom crepes," she said. "I think I'm going to have to nuke these. We got sidetracked while I was raiding her closet."
Then she whispered, "We act like this never happened, right?"
"Of course," I whispered back.
"Does she know that you like ..." she started to ask.
"No, and please don't say anything," I said.
We both knew exactly what we were talking about.
A few months ago, a guy I hooked up with occasionally, Mike, told me about this hot Domme, Gabby, who was really good at directing men. He told me she really knew how to set up a scene and knew how to keep a hardon going for hours. She never touched us, but with both of us being mostly straight, she knew how to tease and put on a show to get our dicks so hard and hurtful that they felt like they were going to shatter and break.
Even though she was wearing this loose floral top and a pair of capri pants and spiked heels, they didn't do justice to her mile-high legs. They looked so much better in the cut out leather one-piece getup that that she wore when she met with us. It was cut high up her legs and the leather couldn't have been more tightly wrapped around her crotch.
We were in an old warehouse that had been converted into mostly artists' studios. Her space was big and open and had these huge windows that overlooked an area that was filled with decayed remnants of old paint factories, machine shops, and other assorted factories. It was early morning when we came in. She was pulling these room darkening shades over the windows and turned on some dim lights in the part of the space that she used as her studio. With a riding crop, she directed us over to an open space in the room.
"You," she said, pointing the crop at me. "This is your first time with a Domme?"
"Yes," I said.
"That's 'Yes, ma'am,'" she barked at me.
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
She had both of us standing in front of her with our hands clasped behind our backs. She asked me what my level of experience was as a bottom.
"None, ma'am," I said. "I prefer to top women."
"Do you really?" she said. "He has such a nice schlong. Mikey, drop your drawers and show him what you have."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, and obediently dropped his pants to the ground as quickly as he could.
He did have a nice stick. Rugged. Long. Wide. Wider than mine, but I had almost a good eight inches that could stay hard for hours that no one ever complained about."
"Step out," she said. "Shoes, socks off."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
He kicked off his shoes and socks, put his hands back behind his back, and stared straight ahead at me. She looked right at me, and glared as if I was doing something wrong.
"Stop staring at my pussy," she said.
I didn't realize I was doing it even thought I was mesmerized with it, even more so than those two perfect round mounds of her ass that weren't covered at all. Even more than her full tits and nipples that were straining through the leather of her outfit.
"Sorry, ma'am," I said.
"That's 'I'm sorry, ma'am,'" she said. "You're a grown man. I shouldn't have to train you how to speak in a complete three-word sentence."
"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said.
She got right into my face, ran the stiff leather end of the crop up my neck to the point of my chin, and said, "Do you know what I do with bad boys who leer at me?"
"No, ma'am, I don't," I said.
I was really shaking.
"Drop your drawers," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied.
I was never so turned on and so freaking scared of a woman in my life. I normally would have told a woman who talked to me like than to piss off, but instead, I dropped them in a hurry.
"Spread your feet shoulder width apart," she said. "Bend down and hold onto your ankles ... tight, I don't want you falling over. Mikey, get me my flat wood paddle," she said.
When I could no longer hear the "pat, pat, pat" of Mike's footsteps, she pressed her blazing hot pussy against one of my ass cheeks, and said very softly, "You're making me so damn wet I can hardly stand it."
"I'm glad I can do that, ma'am," I said.
She backed away as soon as I heard Mike's footsteps walk toward us.
