Hi fans: I've been getting lots of emails asking when I'll post another story, but the truth is, since I started posting them my consultation business has shot through the roof. I hardly have time for anything else now. I only do referrals, but even at that, I can't handle the volume. So, I finally bit the bullet and hired an intern against my better judgment. He's ten years younger than me, in his early twenties, and oh my god is he ever a fantasy-laden, orgasmic producing, gorgeous dream!
No, I haven't done anything with him, although I can tell by the way he watches my butt and his eyes on my breasts all the time that he's interested. I have never cheated on my hubby, but we share our fantasies, so I'll probably tell him about Jason. I don't know what I'd do if Hubby said, "Go ahead!" LOL
This is what one of my clients told me during one of our last sessions. I wrote it up as related because I thought I'd let the readers read it just to see how some people's minds work, and what excites them sexually. And he thought it'd help him cope better to see it posted here. Here it is, posted in two parts. Take it for what it's worth, and I hope some of you out there enjoy reading it.
Thank you,
Cleo
*****
His story:
My name is Jack. I'd never been a Dominant in real life, and certainly not a "Master," but I have role-played on-line lots of times and enjoyed the power I felt each time I did it. That's why my real life adventure took me so much by surprise. I'd better explain. I was on the terrace at a Seattle coffee shop one day and the place was a total zoo. It was one of those rare sparkling days one gets up there in April every five years or so, and every table was filled. I'd had a "don't give a shit" attitude all morning and being around other people hadn't improved my disposition much. I'd just ordered my second refill, nearly through the Times and all their bullshit, when the most gorgeous creature I'd ever seen stepped outside with her coffee in one hand and a piece of crumb cake in the other. Every eye out there was glued to her, but the only vacant chair was the one across from me. When I nodded at her and jerked my head toward it, she melted me with a bright smile and sit down.
You could tell she was money simply by her looks and her manner. Sophisticated, poised, and elegant, she owned the place. She wore a short, black, off-the-shoulder dress, heels and simple, understated jewelry. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, with just the right amount of strands dangling around her small, refined face. Large brown eyes stared back at me and impossibly white even teeth sparkled in the sun.
I'm average. Well, I'm pretty tall, six three, about two-fifteen when I work out, but my nose has been broken twice playing racquetball, and I'm not the most handsome man in the world. The only place I'm above average in below the belt, but that's not an attribute a lady can notice right off, so I don't meet many, drop-dead gorgeous chicks. I do get some referrals, however, from the few I have bedded. I'm proud of my big cock. It's my only physical asset that I am proud of.
I watched her break off small nibbles of crumb cake and delicately place each piece between her full lips, my mind going crazy with some wild ideas. She seemed unaware of my physical problems at the moment, crossing her long legs and blowing on her cup. It was then I noticed the gold anklet chain. Then I noticed that she also wore a gold choker chain around her swain-like neck. She suddenly glanced up and saw my eyes on her ankle, and turned red. I don't know why, I guess it was my bad attitude coming through but I just went for it.
"That a slave anklet?"
She grew red in the face and dropped her eyes.
"Do you belong to someone?" I insisted, convinced she'd finally just pop up and beat a hasty retreat to a friendlier place.
She didn't answer for so long that I figured I'd overplayed my hand then she muttered so low I could barely hear her over the traffic noise, "I did once. He's gone now."
Again, I jumped in with both feet. I figured what the fuck, right? "Was he your Master?"
A long silence first, and then a small whisper floated up through the sidewalk noise. "Yes."
Gone was the cool customer I'd seen walk in. Now she looked like a frightened little girl waiting to be scolded for some misdeed. "How long has he been gone?"
"Five weeks. His company moved to California."
I felt I was on firmer ground now so I plunged forward again. "He trained you, then?"
A long silence, and then, "Yes. Almost a year." She had a deep throaty voice that made my dick throb. She glanced up and I saw her eyes were moist, as she licked her pouty lips and again dropped her head.
Deciding to roll the dice, I said, "Then you probably need another one to take care of you and correct your behavior, right?"
She didn't answer so I growled deeply, "Well?" She jerked her head up and down in admission, not answering. Holly shit! I had her! And lord, was she ever gorgeous! "Did you know I was a Master when you sat down here?" I asked. She shook her head in the negative. "Dammit! Answer me when I say something. I'm not a fucking mind reader!"
"I'm sorry," she muttered obediently.
"Do you want me to consider you? I'm pretty busy but I have experience and have trained a number of slaves." All of it was BS, of course. I hadn't. But I just went on with the charade, "I don't know if you're even worth it." I knew I was taking a risk saying that, but it worked.
"I am . . . I am."
"Ok, maybe I'll see if you are. I'll interview you this afternoon at 5:00 PM. Give me your address."
She didn't hesitate, reaching inside a small purse that probably equaled a car payment for most folks, and handing me a card. As I suspected, the address was in an upscale community of large estates near the lake. Mostly doctors and lawyers, people like that lived there. We talked some more and I found out her name was Samantha, and that everyone called her Sam. She told me she'd been married to a noted surgeon for five years, and that her wealthy husband had run off with another male doctor. She'd known he was Bi, but it had surprised her none-the-less. He'd been domineering and commanding all through her marriage, and liked to tie her up for sex. She admitted those were the type men she seemed to be drawn to. Men like her father had been. Then she'd met her old master on line and found out what a submissive was, realizing at last that she was a sub. She'd been trained as a sub for nearly a year.
I stopped questioning her and stared at her for a full minute, as if trying to make up my mind about something. "Give me your panties," I said suddenly. Another risk. I'd only known her for about twenty minutes. Would she do it?
She appeared stunned by my remark, sitting up and glancing around at the tables closest to us before immediately dropping her eyes again, her face red as fire now. After a moment, she moved her hands under the table and in less than a second, handed me a balled up bunch of black silk and lace. I deliberately shook them out, holding the wispy little things in front of my face, and then brought them to my nose, breathing in deeply. A couple at a nearby table was staring at us now and I could see it bothered her a great deal.