Mistress On A Mission

Characters in this story are fictional. Events described did not occur.

Chapter One

My name is Ethan. As of late, I had been living and working in a suburb of Portland, Oregon, as a software technician for a small PC service shop. I had started about six months earlier. A couple times a week, I walked down the block from the shop, either before the start of the workday or at its end, to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee at a shop called Cruise-In Coffee.

From day one, I frequently ordered from and was served by a heavyset blonde woman who I guessed was in her early-to-mid thirties. I didn't think she was the owner, maybe the owner's daughter or a full-time employee, given how often I'd seen her there.

On this particular day, work was done and I was in the mood for coffee and a total, if brief, disconnect from my work. I made my way to the coffee house and ducked inside. It was early fall outside, so the weather was fairly warm. The shop had a comfortable, broken-in feel; muted colors and simple furniture for patrons. Plus, while they had some "custom" coffee blends, they hadn't forgotten what basic brew was. That was probably one of the biggest reasons I frequented the place. I walked in and chose a table that let me see much of the intterior space.

I took in the employees behind the counter; there were two. Sure enough, there she was; the blonde who often filled my order. Aside from being heavy, she was about five foot nine. She wore her hair tomboy short, combed to one side along the top of her head and straight down at the back, just meeting the top of her neck. It was my personal opinion that she wore it well, and also thought it contributed to her appeal as a woman. She was appealing to me, anyway.

True to form, the blonde made her way to my table, smiling and greeting me with a degree of familiarity befitting my regular visits. I ordered one of my favorites of the moment: black coffee with half a tablespoon of sugar and two shots black cherry syrup flavoring. (I have no idea if such thing exists, but it would seem a good combination for this author if he were a coffee drinker.)

As she walked away after taking my order, I noted her attire. She favored jeans and dark short-sleeve polos while she was at work. Today she had gone with black, a nice contrast to her blonde hair and pale green eyes. Many blondes had blue eyes, in my experience, but she was one who fit into the group that break patterns. It was another of her physical attributes that I liked. She manuevered behind the counter to continue filling orders.

Ten minutes later, my coffee arrived. I perused a magazine I had with me and sipped my coffee for half an hour. I made sure to pay at the till before finishing and also leave a generous tip at the table. At the end of that day, the blonde object of my attention had stopped at my table and asked me to join her at her place to talk and get to know each other a little better.

"Well, I got nowhere I have to be and no plans for the evening, so it's a date," I said with a grin.

"All right. Follow me," she said. We left the table and she led me through to the back of the shop and up a set of stairs near the door we had just come through.

Chapter Two

Her place was surprisingly spacious, as well as neat and orderly. The entry opens to a square kitchen, which was open at the opposite end and adjoined the living room. Between the two rooms was a perpendicular hall with what had to be one or more bedrooms and a bathroom.

My lady friend gestured to the living room area. "Go ahead and have a seat." I wandered through to the living room and occupied a chunk of the loveseat, joined by two recliners. All of the furniture was positioned to allow a good view of a sizable flat panel TV, on the opposite wall.

The lady of the house joined me on the loveseat, close but not crowding. "Well, neither of us even knows the other's name," she said, "but I'm Tasha."

"I'm Ethan," I offered. "It's nice to officially meet you. Do you rent this place?"

"No, I own it. Before I came to work in the coffee shop, I worked as a mistress in a ladies-for-hire establishment. I still do it, but on my own as a independent, by request or appointment service provider. It suplements my waitressing quite nicely. I gave the lady who was looking to move out a five-figure one-time payment she was happy with, so this is mine, free and clear," she finished.

"Well, that works. It's nice. My house is a ranch-style that's walking distance from the shop where I work as a software and device troubleshooter," I answered.

"Are you a geek, then?" she asked.

"No, I just have more knowledge than your average computer user."

"Well, I have a laptop in the bedroom that I'd like to put some software on. Can you give me a hand?" she said.

"I'd be happy to," I agreed. "Lead on."

We got up and Tasha went into the hall and entered the first door on the left. A bed occupied a chunk of the room, but on the wall across from the door was a desk with a laptop sitting on it. It was turned on, running the screensaver. Tasha told me to go ahead and sit at the desk. I did.. She went into one of the drawers and removed productivity software from everyone's favorite, Microsoft. I exited the screensaver and put the disc in the CD drive. It started and I entered necessary info and let the install proceed.

Tasha pulled up a chair next to me. "So I've noticed you walk with a limp. What's that about, if I may ask?"

"Sure. I was born with a mild case of cerebal palsy," I said. "People I meet still occasionally ask about it."

"I've heard of it, but never knew much or personally known anyone who has it," Tasha said. "But obviously you're fine mentally. No wonder you have the job you do. How long you worked there?"

"I moved here from Wisconsin six months ago," I answered.

"No interest from the ladies then?"

"No," I said. "I really haven't made a lot of effort for that, and I'm kind of introverted and keep to myself. I get along with my two co-workers fine," I said. What about you. How long did you work as amistress before the coffee shop?"

"I was full-time busy for six years. I was a little skinnier when I started, but I've never been small."

"I don't gravitate toward beanpole-skinny women. I prefer a little meat on their bones. What kind of things did you do as a mistress?"

"Well, I'm fairly open-minded. I did a lot of bondage activities. Mild domination stuff. I had multiple appointments with one guy who was into golden showers, so I did that," she replied.

"Did that part weird you out?" I questioned.

"On average, it would have. But when I started there, I learned a lot about the common fetishes, and while I dealt with only one guy, I researched the golden shower thing and discovered it's more common than people will admit," Tasha said. "Do you know much on the fetish subject? Have any?" she asked.

I pointed and clicked through the end of the software installation. I answered, "I understand a little about basic bondage. Fron my physical condition, pain and heavy duty domination don't turn me on. Being that you are a professional, I will say I have dreamt of women of my own creation doing the golden shower thing. I also know there are a lot of fetishes out there, some downright odd, that I don't intend to get anywhere near," I finished.

"I found out the golden shower thing, or watersports, was a strong turn-on for me," Tasha said. I also found I enjoy giving facesitting sessions. I like ass worship. Did a fair amount of that. Also got curious about other body function stuff and learned on my own about scat or brown shower fetish. And passing gas, which you might know as 'fart fetish.' A majority of those types are into sounds, but with scat and gas there has to be the smell, too. I never got to try any or had requests. But the way pissing with another person made me feel, I kinda wanna have a chance to try it. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment, so I'm not sharing."

"Well, I'm not sure about going brown or getting flatulently indulged, but I'd let you pee on me," I declared. "By the way, your software is good to go," I added.

"Thanks," Tasha said. "What do you think about getting dinner and hanging around awhile? You can crash at your place, because we both gotta work tomorrow. Maybe afterward we can come back here and I'll be your mistress for the weekend. I happen to be free of appointments for a week or so," she added.

"And would you like to be paid for your endeavor as my mistress? As for dinner and staying awhile, that I think I can do," I decided.

"Well, here's what I think about getting paid for my weekend efforts with you. I do have to work a three-hour shift Saturday and Sunday for the folks with a coffee jones. My appointments that are booked will be comfortable as far as earnings. Given that the ladies have missed out with someone I realize now is a smart, easygoing guy, I'd like to keep it casual and let you enjoy yourself, at the same time you get a little experience under your belt," Tasha explained.

I withdrew my wallet and haggled until Tasha accepted fifty bucks; it wasn't a ton, but it was something for her time, and I had the money to spare. I wasn't rich, but I stayed comfortable.

It was now about quarter to six in the evening; we made a mutual decision to have Chinese delivered. Tasha admitted with a sly grin that it wasn't going to improve her figure eating that way. I agreed, but told her, what the hell, you're you and as long as your diet isn't deliberately destructive, minimize the guilt. Who gave a shit what the rest of the world thinks? Only you are required to be comfortable in your own skin.

Twenty minutes later food arrived. As is typical in major U.S. cities where diversity is prominent, the food was authentic and tasted excellent. After finishing and cleaning up, we sat together on the love seat and found a triva gameshow on TV to let our food settle. Both of us drank water to help digestion. At the end of the hour, we decided on a twenty-minute walk. I thoughyTasha was surprised at my tolerance of walking for that length of time; I let her know I had been walking for forty minutes a day, nearly every day, for close to two years.

As we re-entered the apartment, I think she was impressed. Both of us grabbed more water to replace fluids; it had not been a leisurely pace we kept. As we settled on the small couch again, the TV came back on and Tasha slid an arm around me and encouraged me to lean on her and be comfortable. I did. We caught the majority of a two-hour movie. At the end of it, Tasha expressed herself and guaged my willingness to work with her by what she said.

"It's late, so I don't want to get carried away. But I've got some gas to get rid of, my bladder is full, and I probably need to poop. What say you join me in the bathroom?"

"All right," I agreed. We headed into the hall and entered the second door on the left wall, a fair distance down from the first bedroom and directly across from the second. The bath held a toilet, sink and tub/shower unit. Tasha closed the door after I stepped inside. She took my hand and carefully pulled me close, looping her hands gently around my waist. My habds found her waist and I leaned in, propping my head on her right shoulder.

"That's perfect. Don't worry, I won't fall over. You can lean on me as much as you need to. Ready? Let's see if I can make a little noise," Tasha said. She relaxed and took a breath. When she exhaled, I felt her tense; there was a long, very audible crackling and popping sound from her ass. She relaxed, inhaled, exhaled and repeated the results. "Oooh, much better," she said quietly.

Cautiously, I breathed in through my nose; a rotten-egg stench was very evident, and it hung in the air. I groaned as if I couldn't handle the smell. Tasha turned and used her nose." Oh, wow, that is strong. Sorry. I do get that smell a lot when it comes to gas and taking a dump, thoutgh," she said.

Making sure I kept my feet, she moved over, slid her jeans and panties down, and parked herself on the toilet. I took a long look at her ass as she sat. She made a 'come here' gesture with one hand as I stepped over. She turned me around, spread her legs, and sat me down tucked between them. My hips nestled against her ample thighs. I leaned back carefully and let myself enjoy Tasha's closeness. "This is nice," I said. "We could use a bigger toilet seat though."

Tasha chuckled. "Yes, it might help. And I know you got a look at my ass while I was taking a seat," she added sternly. I turned and let her see my smile. "Guilty as charged. That Sir Mix-a-Lot song is in my head. Your ass is large, and bigger is better," I answered.

"You like big butts? Twenty inches across, cheek to cheek. You can have another long look when we get done," she said. "First, here comes a big dose of liquid gold," she announced. Very shortly I heard pee hitting the toilet water, building to a surge that lasted several seconds before tapering off and stopping. Between the sounds and the mental images and Tasha's close proximity, my rocket was in the launch position. I groaned.

"You hard yet, Ethan?" she asked.

"Very," I confirmed. Her hand slid down and unfastened my pants. She found my penis, and her gentle, probing touch made me throb. "Oh wow, you are. What a good sign. You mind if I leave my hand down here?"

"Please, keep doing that," I said with a sigh.

"Certainly," she said, and I knew she was smiling. She continued a very slow, gentle massage along my shaft. I told her I now understood some of her proficiency as a mistress, to which she added, "I have many talents. I have some picked out for you, and I will share them all."

Suddenly more gas rushed out of her anus. Tasha slid her hand out of my pants and rested it at my waist. She relaxed, and eventually carefully flexed her stomach. She moaned and I sensed a big load was working out of her rectum. She clamped her thighs around my hips, squeezing a little. I heard her shit sliding out and dropping into the bowl. She loosened her hold on my hips. A foul ,sulfur-rich smell rose out of the toilet. I groaned again. Part of it was the smell, part of it was my dick responding again.

While she shit, I had let my mind's eye envision the load beginning to show at her anus. Then I pictured it sliding out, large and long, growing until gravity helped it into the toilet. This progression made me hard enough to feel a minor pain in my groin.

I manuevered and slid my boxers down, pointing my standard equipment and forcing it to relax so I could piss till I was empty. When I finished, I felt Tasha moving her head and nuzzling my neck, kissing my cheek.

"It smells again. Try to get used to it. That's the way it is for me a lot, like I said."

"It wasn't as surprising as the first time. Maybe it'll grow on me till I tolerate it well," I said.

I stood clear of the toilet. Tasha wiped clean and replaced her panties and jeans. Before closing the toilet, she gestured into the bowl and we had a look. There it was, large and long, thick and brown. Mentally I made the connection between her large, wide ass and what rested in the toilet. My cock swelled a little again.

Tasha flushed and we washed our hands. She led the way back out to the main living area and we sat together again on the loveseat. "Well, you didn't freak out. I knew you'd be fine while I was peeing, but I didn't know about my brown delivery," she commented.

"I was afraid I might. You took a fine piss, and when you started to shit, my penis got happy. When it was over and I was looking into the bowl, I connected the dots between your great big ass, and the big, brown, stinking deposit. My penis got a little happy again," I confided to her.

"My great big ass," she quoted. "That's right, I was gonna let you have another look. Come on, then. If you're ok with it, we'll go in the bedroom for a bit. Then I'll let you head home. Gonna be okay in the dark?" she asked.

"It should be fine. It's pretty quiet here, and I only gotta go three blocks," I said.

"Maybe I'll walk back with you," she decided, and I told her that would be fine. We wandered to the bedroom and Tasha closed the door stood next to the bed. Her top and bra came off. Though she was heavy, her stomach large, she wasn't carrying folds of fat at her middle that detracted from her sex appeal. She turned sideways and slid her jeans and panties down slowly and stepped out of them. Curtains were drawn in here, so I was the only recipient of her show.

She propped herself on the bed, her back to me, showing all of her wonderfully ample ass. Slowly I stepped to the bed. My heart rate jumped as I eased in beside her. Tasha turned to look at me. My eyes must have been a little big. "What?" she asked.

"That ass. It's big. It's wide. I want to touch it and grab it and fondle it," I said. Now her eyes got big and she grinned.

"Ethan, how would you like to let me spank you for being obsessed with my ass, and then I'll let you cop a feel?" She pulled my ear to her lips and added, "Don't worry. I'll be a mistress for a minute, just a mock punishment, not too rough. I haven't forgotten what you said."

"I suppose I might like to try being spanked," I said.

"Come around my other side and lay down. Face me, and I'll put you where I want you,"she instructed. I moved to the other side of the bed and sprawled out. Tasha reached over to a nightstand, opened the drawer, and withdrew a small paddle with a rubber end. Putting it down, she pulled me toward her and told me to rest my pelvis over her high hip. I did. She slid my pants off. Only my boxers between that paddle and my ass. Gulp.

Tasha had to have read my thoughts. "Hey, the paddle doesn't hurt. Just a lot of noise but only a little sting. It won't even leave any marks, no matter how much I swing."

"You're the professional," I said. I was atop her hip, staring across the room. I knew she had taken up the paddle. She gently trapped my legs with hers. Her free arm rested across my back.Tasha counted to three. The paddle slapped the meaty part of my ass. The noise was a loud snap, like a snap-cap firework. Little or no pain registered.

She brought the paddle down twice more, rapidly, with a harder swing. More pain than her first effort, but far from actually hurting. Tasha's free hand drifted to my ass, groping. "Ok?" she asked. I responded that I was fine.

"You want to see my full-mistress mode, if I be careful?"

"Ummmmm, sure, I guess," was my answer.

"All right. I'm going to verbally scold you while I spank you. Don't say anything or ask me to stop. I'll know when. Completely relax, and just take it," she advised. I responded with a 'yes ma'am.'

"Staring at my ass..." WHACK. The paddle met skin, much louder, but not painful. "I'll teach you. Dirty thoughts." Five fast, stout whacks. "You pathetic pervert. I felt you gawking." Two more strong cracks met my ears. I started to feel like my bladder might let go. She paused, and let loose four more strikes. At the first, my bladder surrendered. Through the next three, fast and hard, a strong stream flowed.

Tasha dropped the paddle slowly. I looked back at her, saw the disbelief on her face.

"Tasha, I'm sorry. My bladder let go, and I couldn't stop it," I said. I didn't look at her while I said it, so intense was my shame. I looked back at her after the last word of my excuse left my mouth. I expected her to be burning holes with her eyes. But as I turned and found her face, she had tucked it to her shoulder and was laughing and taking deep breaths.

When she stopped herself, she said, "Ethan, it's a startle reflex. If you are startled enough, it'll happen and there's nothing to do." She shook her head, smiling. "Holy shitt. You peed on me! Poor guy."