A couple of years ago, I was invited to participate in a Q&A panel at a three-day conference in Portland on access to clinical care. One of my employers offered to pay my travel and food costs. Better yet, thanks to a tip from a friend, I got the chance to housesit in a beautiful restored heritage loft in the Pearl District, whose owner was away for an entire week. Even though my work commitment was just for one day, I decided to take full advantage and stay the week.
I had an ulterior motive. A few weeks earlier, I'd signed up on a personals web site catering to bisexual and bi-curious women. I'd been sending notes back and forth with "svenskasub1986," who as you might guess claimed to be a bi-curious young Swedish woman living with her fiancee in downtown Portland. In addition to having a degree in marine biology and an esthetician's licence, she said she was looking to add one more thing to her resume before settling down and marrying: "I want to have the experience of giving myself over utterly to another woman and serving her for her pleasure, not mine, only hers. I want to learn, and I want to be obedient and do as she says. No restrictions."
As you can imagine, this pleased me very much and got my mind whirling with possibilities. I felt as if I was in a state of constant arousal. During the workday, whether at the office or driving around the city to meet with clients, I often had to "take a break"--locking the door to masturbate furiously while seated on the toilet, or pulling over on a quiet side street, hiking down my slacks, and caressing my tits while I flicked my soaked clit in broad daylight, fantasizing about being served, pleasured and obeyed
Still, when I arrived in Portland, I was prepared for the whole thing to be a hoax. We'd set up a meeting at a little coffee shop near the river that evening, but I figured she might not show up. It seemed too good to be true.
How pleasantly surprised I was, then, when I arrived and spotted her sitting at a corner table, nervously twisting her long blonde hair, flanked by her fiance, as we'd agreed.
"Hi, so nice to meet you," I said, extending my hand. "I'm pleased to see that you live up to the advertising." She accepted it with warm slender fingers and blushed a little.
"No, no, the pleasure is all mine—I mean, yours," she said with the barest trace of an accent and a giggle. "I'm Ann-Marie, and this is my fiance Robert." He nodded and shook hands too: late 20's, tall, American features, clearly pleased to see me.
We ordered cappucinos and spent a few minutes chatting about the city, the weather, work. Her eyes lowered demurely when I looked into hers, but she was clearly delighted to see me. At last, Robert polished off his coffee and gave Ann-Marie a quick kiss on the mouth. "Everything seems to be kosher, so I'll leave you girls to it," he said to Ann-Marie. "Love you, babe." As agreed, I handed him a slip of paper with my Portland address and phone number. He smiled at me, headed out and rode off on his bike.
Freed of distractions, I put my hand on Ann-Marie's knee and gave her a frankly admiring and appraising gaze. Her simple white blouse and tan capri pants did little to disguise the fact that she had, by my reckoning, a perfect body. Tall, nearly my height, perhaps 5-foot-9. She had light green eyes and long, fluttering lashes. A lock of blonde hair fell over her forehead, as porcelain-smooth as the rest of her body, except for a small mole on the side of her neck. Her figure was deliciously slender yet curvy: her breasts like almost-ripe Valencia oranges, her well-rounded hips reminding me of a girl I used to lust over in my Halifax years. I was wet, and I could feel my pussy clenching already with anticipation. I knew I wanted to take charge of Ann-Marie.
She smiled shyly and looked down. "Oh my God, this is very wild for me," she said. "I never expected when I signed up...I mean, our emails were very exciting, and now this...I mean, I'm hoping that you like me as much as, well, as I like you..."
I placed a finger over my lips. "Shhh." Then I leaned over the table, taking Ann-Marie's sweet young face between my hands and kissed her with hungry intensity on the mouth. Knowing that other patrons were watching us only increased my excitement and desire for her. My tongue flickered against hers as I kissed her deeply, again and again.
At last, I drew back. With a little gasp, she knocked her coffee cup on the floor, where it clattered.
"Pick that up like a good girl," I told her. She obeyed.
"Very good," I said with a knowing smile. "One thing you're going to have to get used to, if you want to serve me, is that I will do most of the talking and you will do most of the obeying. Is that easy for you to understand, Ann-Marie?"
She nodded, pushing her hair away from her eyes. "Yes, yes. Of course."
"Mistress. That's what we said in the emails. That's what I expect to be called."
"Yes, Mistress."
I can't even describe the feeling that went through me when she said those words and looked down at the floor. Just an incredible heat shot through my body. I knew I was now in charge and that I was going to get everything I wanted. My cunt was throbbing. At a nearby table, two lesbians were listening in, one buzzcut and older, the other more femme, both with slight knowing smirks on their faces.
I wanted to start using Ann-Marie for my pleasure right then and there. I was very turned on by the fact that she could feel my power and could hardly look at me. But I knew it was best to ease into this delicious scenario.
