Throughout my fifty-plus years on the planet I've always harbored submissive thoughts and tendencies, but never really had the nerve or the opportunity to act on them. The time, place or partner never quite worked out properly for me to do so.
In many ways I suppose I fit the quintessential profile - in charge during the day, but secretly desiring to just surrender to someone else. Does that make me selfish? Lazy? Unimaginative? Perhaps a combination of all three. I only know what I like (and what I'm scared of, which is perhaps why I've never acted on the tendency). That's why what happened was so surprising, on so many levels.
I can't say what it was that prompted me to do what I did. Knowing that I had a trip to Colorado coming up (safety perhaps in being away from home?), I did a small amount of internet research around my destination and came across something that very much caught my eye. I thought I was too responsible to actually reach out and contact the woman in the ad; it was exciting enough to merely troll the site and imagine. I do have quite the active imagination.
My fear of contacting a self-described mistress was that I would never find what I was actually looking for (if I even knew what that was), and merely wind up being both disappointed and poorer. Is there such a thing as truth in advertising anymore? My stereotypical mental model was that I would only find a plus-sized man-hater who was only in it for the money. Something about this particular ad intrigued me, however. The pictures were not very clear or descriptive, but the language used began to draw me in almost immediately. In spite of my better judgment, I wrote from an anonymous email address.
I received a reply rather quickly, but it was readily apparent that this was a bit of a (well-written) form response designed to weed out time-wasters. Apparently step one was that I would need to prove myself worthy of a continued dialogue. I did not have any of the requested references that I could provide, so I needed to review the questions, and my answers, quite completely. This was indeed a bit of a test, and not one that I was sure I could pass. That being said, being the competitive person that I am, I dove in headfirst. I needed to describe myself, my desires, why I had contacted her, when I was looking to meet, etc. And there it was - I also needed to provide my phone number. So much for total anonymity.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Somehow I felt free, unburdened, unencumbered. I described what I liked, and what I didn't, to see if there was hopefully some common ground of interest. If the woman doesn't find the session enjoyable then neither do I. I was not interested in play-acting or insincere role play. A bad porno movie parody was definitely not what I was after.
My concern was that I might be too vanilla for her, but I went with as much honesty as I could muster. I told her that it was the mental aspect of an encounter that intrigued me the most. That I normally eschewed pain. I am strictly heterosexual, not into any form of feminization, and was disgusted by the thought of showers of any color. I was concerned about appearing to attempt to "top from the bottom" (a phrase I learned in my searches), but thought that if this was going to work I needed to be honest but not demanding. To further describe my interests and thinking, I told her that when I fantasized it often included more than one woman at a time. I mentioned that the theme of CFNM was also very appealing, but that I am a big fan of the female form, so appreciate nudity as much as, if not more than, the next guy. I had recently taken an online quiz, and shared that my score described me as a submissive rope bunny who was both an exhibitionist as well as a voyeur. I also stressed the part about my caring about my partner's needs, not only because it was true but also in the hope that it might win me some points. If she wanted to help me stretch any self-perceived boundaries I told her that if the chemistry and trust were right, I'd be open to it. Thinking that was enough (and afraid it may have been too much), I let my responses fly.
Much to my delight, but a bit to my fear, she responded affirmatively. She asked a few qualifying questions, and, apparently satisfied that I wasn't a serial killer but sincere in my ambitions, indicated that we would be getting together. I gave her my hotel name and address and the dates for my seminar, and waited. She told me to be patient, and that she would be in touch via text (she had provided a number for me to use for authorized correspondence). I was instructed to send my room number to her cell phone after check-in (which I of course did, as expeditiously as practical after arrival).
Truthfully, I didn't really know what to expect, and tried to keep my hopes low but my guard up. I wanted to be careful, yet at the same time a part of me didn't. I could not properly account for or describe the sense of excitement that I felt. The anticipation was a strong part of the experience. Let the chips fall where they may.
I visited the ATM machine in town, and, not quite sure why, bought a "Thank You" card from a Stationery Store and put money inside along with a small handwritten note, writing "Tribute" on the envelope. At this point in time I didn't know if she would even show up, or how the encounter would run. I proceeded to attend day one of my four-day seminar, knowing only that I had been instructed to be patient. Paying attention to the seminar, I knew, was going to be incredibly difficult.
The hotel itself was described as "upscale downtown," built in the Victorian style, and near the Pearl Street Mall. Although constructed in the early 1900's, it had definitely been well maintained. My room was more than adequate, and very comfortable. I was back in it shortly after dinner, mildly disappointed that my cell phone had not alerted me to any texts since my arrival. It remained quiet until it was time for me to go to bed, which I set out to do at around 10:30 PM. Having arrived from the East Coast, I was indeed tired already, and it was well past my normal bed time.
Shortly after I had brushed my teeth and performed my other nightly rituals, I stripped to my skivvies and climbed into bed. Although tired, I left the light on for a few minutes to read and unwind from the day's travel and events. And then I heard the knock on the door.
My heart felt like it skipped a beat, and then pounded harder to make up for the one that was lost. Vision after vision raced through my head, and the logical part of my mind told me to slow down. It could be housekeeping (although it was late for that); it could be someone who had the wrong room. Of course, it could also be her, and my mind raced in wonder as to what she actually looked like (oh please, oh please, oh please don't disappoint.)
I put on the complimentary robe found in the room, and opened the door. Standing in front of it was a beautiful girl who I would best describe as a cross between what I remembered a 25-year-old Pia Zadora to have looked like (I told you, I'm in my 50's), and Hayden Panettiere for those of you who need a more current reference. In other words, she was a five-foot tall blond with shoulder length hair, a cherubic face, an impish grin, and a gorgeous body to boot. Jackpot.
She didn't wait to be invited in. She strolled past me, which is when I noticed what she was wearing: form fitting white pants, low cut boots, and what I believe is known as a halter top, black in color (it was warm in Boulder that night). If she brought a coat with her she had left it somewhere else. She placed her surprisingly large handbag on the desk.
In her hand she was carrying five envelopes, four white ones and one red one. She also had a small box which she proceeded to walk over to and leave on the nightstand, next to the Tribute envelope which she casually ignored. I noticed from where I was standing that there was some writing on the box, but I couldn't tell what it said from where I was standing. She returned to me and held out the envelopes like a magician performing a card trick. She had not yet said a word. She merely looked at me, nodded to the numbered cards in her hand, and through her mannerisms indicated that I was to select one. OK, first thought: red or white? Do the numbers mean anything? Are the contents of the envelopes all the same? How deviant might they be? What kind of trick is this? I tried not to overthink it. Scared to select the red one, I opted, for no reason whatsoever, for envelope number two.
Again, I was non-verbally instructed to open it and take out the index card inside. My heart was beating rapidly and strongly when I read the following:
"Boy (for that is how you will henceforth be addressed) -
Read this card and then return it to my friend.
Strip and lie naked on the bed. Masturbate yourself with your non-dominant hand.
