He sat in the car around the corner from her house. It was starting to get dark as he'd parked up. He was a little early, which gave him a good excuse to wait some more before getting out, but really it was another excuse to put it off. He'd come this far, surely he had to go through with it? Besides, she had given him the option, coffee or... something else. All he had to do was say the word. It was too late for coffee, but he just didn't have the nerve.
He also wondered what she would think of him. It was surprising they had come this far without showing a face picture. He'd shown everything else, and she seemed to think he had an attractive body. Was he her type though? What was her type? He didn't seem like the other guys he'd seen trying to flirt with her on that website. If they have coffee he could find out, perhaps it would save an embarrassing put down.
They had chatted online for a few months. They were in a similar situation in that they had kinky appetites but little experience. The difference was that she was single, and female. She held all the cards. They had got on well, flirting and enjoying each others company. It was rare to find a connection on a site like that, mainly used for hook ups and kinky selfies. Most people were either only into getting likes and shares, or wanted sex immediately. He didn't find any attraction in either, previous people he had chatted with felt so shallow. Thankfully she wasn't like either. It was nice to chat with a real person.
Over time it became apparent that she was the one in charge. She said it didn't come naturally to her, it was something she wanted to try. It seemed natural to him though. As they chatted more it was clearly her with the most experience, she knew how to make him want more. He found himself thinking of her at entirely inappropriate times. He kept looking back over her photos, the things they had discussed. He loved her figure, sometimes he would sit at work daydreaming about touching her and find himself hard. She knew this, and teased him with it. He'd seen her in underwear and wanted more. She deliberately hadn't shared, leaving it to his imagination. He so wanted to get her undressed.
After a month or so of chatting she had taken to insisting on being called mistress. Particularly with anything erotic, she would correct him if he didn't. He was her sweetie at first, it was cute. More recently he had become her slut, and while sweetie was a cute name, slut made him feel like her slut. It was appropriate, he would do whatever she asked.
She was strict too. As time went on there were punishments if he didn't address her correctly. At first she wanted him punishing himself with a spatula from the kitchen. She had clearly enjoyed the photos of his red bum cheeks, insisting on him being more forceful. It had become apparent that he had enjoyed the punishment as much as she did, so she had stopped asking. Now it was edging. An edge for every time he forgot to call her mistress. He deliberately missed it off sometimes as he enjoyed it, but at times she wouldn't let him cum at all after edging. It was so frustrating, but it kept him eager and she seemed to relish his desperation.
He had spent the last Friday night on his knees for her. His punishment initially was to edge 5 times, again for not addressing her correctly. She sensed he was toying with her, so created something new. Hours he'd had to spend, his face buried in his wife's shoes, licking them. All the while having to stroke to climax then wait until he was soft again. His cock was red from all the playing when she finally allowed him to finish. Cruelly though, she'd insisted it was inside a shoe and he cleaned up after himself with his tongue. He hadn't been able to do it. He hadn't told her. She already had the next punishment lined up she said, the same but with dirty underwear instead of shoes. The day after she had sent a photo of her feet, with a request he do the same in person. He hadn't been able to get it out of his mind.
During the same period she had been exploring her submissive side too. It was something he might have liked to explore but realistically had no experience in. He ended up living vicariously through descriptions of her meets. He would wait patiently while she had a date, wondering what she was doing. On her return they would discuss it, how she was tied, spanked and teased by another. She would send photos of her cute bum looking red from someone else's hands or toys. He would ask questions, what was it like? How did it make her feel? She would always answer, perhaps to tease him further or maybe it was good for her to discuss it with someone. He was banned from touching himself when she was on a date, making him even more eager to find out details.
All the time they had talked about meeting. At first he had been clear it wasn't an option due to his situation. He'd been in this position before though, and had regrets before. It had become clear over time that she was different to the others. There was more trust. He felt comfortable discussing anything with her, and she seemed turned on by it all. She clearly wanted to see him in person, but there was no pressure from her. Eventually she had offered, come for a coffee. You decide if you want more. They could chat as friends, and if he felt comfortable he could let her know by calling her mistress. That seemed safe, just a coffee... but damn he wanted to be her slut.
He walked to her door, still nervous as he rang the bell. Hello? or Hello Mistress? The door opened promptly and she greeted him. Seeing her in person made him even more nervous but she must have felt the same way. She looked unsure, not surprising considering she hadn't seen his face. He had to introduce himself, but what should he say?
"Hello" he said finally, slightly embarrassed by how his voice sounded so nervous.
"Hello" she smiled back. "Come in".
They sat in her kitchen. He had bought wine and she poured it for them. They sat opposite each other at her kitchen table. The conversation flowed, but they didn't mention anything naughty. It was in her eyes though. He was nervous, constantly thinking about her as his mistress. Did she find him attractive? Did she want that too? She seemed to. As they discussed things more she could tell he was in a dilemma and he sensed her enjoying him squirm.
She was very attractive, a skirt down to her knees was rising up as she sat opposite him. Her clothing was close fitting, highlighting her womanly curves without being too tight. She stopped trying to pull it down to cover her thighs and as it gradually ascended, exposing her smooth legs, he couldn't help but stare. Whenever she caught him looking she smiled, her innocent face questioning his wandering eyes.
She left the room, excusing herself for a moment to deal with something. When she returned her bare feet were now in patent leather heels with enclosed toes. She slowly but deliberately walked in, shoes clicking on the floor. He felt his pulse quicken. She sat opposite again smiling, again neglecting to adjust her skirt. Was she wearing knickers? Would the skirt rise up and expose her nakedness? There was a moment of silence which she seemed to enjoy, drawing it out while maintaining eye contact. He looked away, but she reached across and put her hand on his. "Still just hello?" she asked as he looked up again.
