The windows were lined with posters announcing a sale on item X and a discount price on item Y. The backlit sign was off but could still be easily read in the midday sun. The door whooshed open as I approached. It could have been a corner drug store anywhere. Inside, the space was well lit. Or perhaps I should say that it was brightly lit. Dozens of fluorescent tubes represented quantity, but not necessarily quality. I walked directly to the shampoo isle. One hand dug absently in my purse for a shopping list. Perhaps a pair of sunglasses? I stopped for a moment and looked out the window. I was in the drugstore a few blocks from my apartment. But... that restaurant wasn't supposed to be across the street. And why is that grocery store across next to the resturant? For some reason I shrugged and supposed that my exact location was of no importance. I turned my mind to my shopping. What did I need from the drugstore? Shampoo? What else? There were other things on the list if I could find it. Gah... I really needed to clean out my purse. Ah, there it was. There were only a few things on my shopping list, for which I was thankful. It was Saturday. I'd worked a half day of overtime and was ready to go home, change out of my skirt and heels, slip into something gothy, and go have a little fun. But I was having trouble finding the brand of vitamins I liked. The manager running the store moved them. Again. For the third time in recent memory. It was annoying! Was it really so important that vitamins be in a certain spot? Was it some marketing ploy? Did drugstore managers really sit up nights thinking, "If I move items that people regularly shop for, they'll have to browse the store to find them. They'll pass my irresistible display of product X and be amazed! 'I think I will buy some!' They'll say!" Wasn't that an Eddie Murphy line? I found the vitamins on isle four, across from the cough drops and right next to a stunning blonde woman in a skirt, boots, and a sweater. Her makeup was perfect and hardly noticeable except that her lips were bright red. I noticed her nails matched the lipstick as she reached for a generic brand bottle of vitamin E. I wrote her off as another straight girl cliche and scanned the vitamins. "Are you a doctor?" She asked, "Would you mind giving me a little advice?" She must have noticed that the company name on my name tag contained the word "health." "I'm only a nurse." I told her, "And I drive a desk most days. But I'll do my best." She smiled. It was warm enough that I questioned the conclusion I jumped to earlier. Perhaps she could be a little fun after all. In fact, with those boots on... While talking to her I noticed that she seed very proud, dignified even. She held her chin high. Her gaze was piercing and I noticed her sweeping it over my body more than just once before it returned to hold my own gaze. I felt as though I wanted to kneel before her right then in the drugstore. I found my field of vision lowered instinctively. She slid behind me as I waited in the checkout line. I grinned and so did she. Then I blushed. She wasn't the type of woman I was normally attracted to. But there was something about her that seemed so powerful. She had me swooning a bit. So much, in fact, that I found my voice seemd to act on its own, blurting out, "May I buy you lunch?" as the clerk rang up the last of my items. The clerk then promptly blushed and carefully counted out my change. Not that I noticed. The slightly taller blonde behind me in line had my full attention. She smirked. Fifteen minutes later we strolled into one of my favorite lunch spots. Her name was Loren. She wore her hair up in a ponytail when outside. But once we were inside she slid the hair tie from its place behind her neck. Golden locks spilled over her shoulders as she sat down. I ordered noodles with basil and braised bean curd. She requested the same, but with chicken. We prepared to share an order of spring rolls. "I like your buttons." She commented. I grinned. "Did you read them all?" She shook her head so I held my book bag on my lap. I collected interesting buttons at gay bookstores, political rallies, and what not. I was constantly swapping them on and off my backpack. It was usually covered in them. At the time, I had several that brought a smile to her face. "I like the one that says 'Dip me in honey and throw me to the lesbians' and 'Orgasm Donor' but I think I like the ones on the bottom the best." She said, after I returned my bag to the ground next to our table. The bottom portion of my bag was reserved for kinky buttons. One depicted handcuffs. Another read "Slave" and had a chain motif as a border. Still another read, "Every Top needs a bottom." The upper and lowercase letters were deliberate. I grinned again. "So you're familiar with them?" She cocked her head slightly to one side and scanned my eyes. I had the distinct impression she was sizing me up. In my mind I begged her to trust me. "Yes." She finally answered. Then she took a drink of water. I wondered if she talked to many people about BDSM. Was I the first? Or was she merely being cautious. "Are you Dominant, then?" My heart fluttered. Again I begged inmy mind what I dared not to say. I wanted her to say yes. I wanted her to tell me that she didn't have a submissive of her own. I wanted her to say that she wanted a submissive... I wanted her to want me. She only smirked again. It was the same smirk I'd seen in the drug store. Then our waitress was setting fresh, hot spring rolls before us on our table. "Thank you" rolled out of my mouth when what I really wanted to say was, "Go away! She almost told me something very important!" or "Do you think she wants to tie me up and tease me until I beg and beg and beg for release? I hope so!" The spring rolls were as tasty. They were crisp, not too oily, and freshly made. We both ate them in silence. My gaze remained on the table. When Loren finished she folded her napkin and placed it on the table. I nearly panicked. Was she getting up? Leaving? I thought I'd driven her away... that I'd been too candid. But she leaned forward and waited a moment. When I looked up into her eyes she whispered, "I won't say here, but I'd like to talk about it somewhere that's more private." I nodded, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I don't know this area all that well. Is there a quiet park or the like nearby?" I thought for a moment. "There is one park, but it's not so quiet." I replied, "However... there's a garden patio on the roof of my apartment building. It's quiet, if a little windy, and only a few blocks away." Our noodles arrived. Loren was quiet until after three bites. "I think that will do." I nodded and changed the subject in an effort to rid us of the anticipatory silence. I discovered she had an interest in local politics. I gently prodded her with polite questions about how she felt about this issue or that issue. We chatted briefly of science and medical news. Then of recent supreme court cases. Then dessert. She liked plain ice cream flavors with liquors over the top. I made a note to buy vanilla ice cream and amaretto. I wondered if she enjoyed chocolate sauce, and what part of my body she might prefer licking clean. She paid the check. I asked if I could help but she wouldn't hear of it. I thought briefly of kneeling beside her and begging, but settled for pulling on my coat, grabbing my purse, and following her to the door. The same wind that blew her ponytail about nearly kept her reply from my ears. But I didn't really need to hear that word fall from her lips. I knew. She said yes. I could tell by the way she leaned back in the lawn chair, her hands folded together, her interlacing didgits forming an intricate pattern of soft fingers and sharp, red nails. I knew by the shark's grin that painted her face. By the jaguar's sparkle in her eye. And in that moment, I think I knew what a praying mantis might feel. Or how a male black widow knows, the moment after, that his mate will turn on him and earn her namesake. I looked at Loren and thought that I could be devoured that moment and derive more pleasure from it than most anything in my life until that point. The sky raged behind her. Clouds became odd fountains, spilling shapes into the cerulean sky. Yet none of it matched her intensity. And she was just sitting there! I tried to imagine her holding a crop, standing over me. I squirmed. "It's a wonderful view." She said, looking directly at me. I blushed and looked off in the distance toward the water of the bay. Perhaps I could pretend that I thought she'd meant the view from the roof of my apartment building. "Yes, it really is." I said, "When the sun sets the sky turns purple and, if the weather is clear enough, the mountains are silhouettes." I heard the soft click of her heels behind me. I guessed that she'd risen and thought of turning around but decided against it. Then I felt her hand brush my hair away from my neck. Her lips were warm in the cool breeze atop the building. Their heat against the tender back of my neck left me shivering. She seemed to notice. Her arms wrapped around me. I managed to whisper, "Thank you." I think she felt more than heard the words. She held me from behind but I could feel her smile. It was a radiance. I could almost picture it on her face but I had to turn around to see it for myself. And indeed, she was grinning when I looked. Her grin increased at my apparent curiosity. She kissed my hair above my ear. She paused there and held me. Her breath was warm on my ear. But her voice was icy. "I didn't like you prying about my kink preferences in public." She stated. I felt my eyes widen. She was smiling a moment before. In fact, I was almost sure she was still smiling. But her voice... she sounded angry. For a moment I couldn't fathom why. Then I realized she was toying with me. Surely she really didn't like my speaking openly about BDSM in public. She seemed guarded about the issue. But she wasn't overly angry or offended. She wanted a reason to punish me. She enjoyed kink or at least certain ideas nested within it. Of that I was almost certain. I swallowed. "I'm sorry. I..." I began. But she cut me off. Her voice held intensity but was still barely above a whisper. "No." She stated flatly, "You're not sorry. But you will be soon enough." She spun me so I was facing her. "You said you live in this building. Do you live alone." Then I saw her waiver. Before I could answer she spoke again. "No, wait. You don't have to answer that. We just met and you may not trust me. I might not trust you for that matter." Then she tilted her head and smiled. "But we can still have fun." She said, "Do you know what a safe-call is?" I nodded. It seemed I didn't give her enough credit. She knew more than I guessed. "Good." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a cellular phone. I curtsied, trying my best to show respect. "Thank you," I said, "But..." I held up one finger and then crossed the rooftop patio. I retrieved my purse and started back toward the striking blonde. Her eyebrows were raised in a questioning manner that flatly stated, "You best have a damn good reason for saying 'Just a minute' with that one little finger of yours so nonchalantly." I smirked and retrieved my own cell phone from my purse. Loren smiled and nodded. I made arrangements from the opposite side of the roof. Then I set the timer on my phone. If I didn't call before or just after the timer went off then a tough butch girl would show up on my doorstep. Loren was staring off to the west when I looked back at her. She looked my way and nodded again. I smiled and sauntered my way to her, swaying my hips. She sky in the west seemed to loose all interest for her. "Thank you." I said when I was once again within her arms. "It's all set then?" She asked. I nodded. "Good. Then let's see this apartment of yours." "But... what about you? I could be dangerous too." I said it with a smirk. Could be. Ha! "Someone already expects me by a certain time." She led me to the stairs leading down from the rooftop. I was a bit crestfallen. Was she married? Partnered? I looked to her left hand, chastising myself for not doing so before. Her ring finger was empty. Not that I would have been bothered if she were partnered. But I prefer that someone's partner knows their beloved is playing outside of their relationship, if not specifically with me. I don't like to do things when someone who should know, doesn't. She must have noticed. She laughed. "My cousin." She said, "I'm visiting her and working here for a few months while she recovers from a brain transplant." It was my turn to laugh then. "A brain transplant?" Loren smirked from behind her sunglasses. "Well... no. It was a knee replacement. But she's terribly conservative and I was lost in a bit of wishful thinking." Once down the stairs and inside, I pressed the call button for an elevator. "Would you like the address here? You could call and just happen to drop the name of the street. That way she'll know where you'll be." "There's no need." Loren replied, "I've already sent a text message to that effect." I was relieved. "Then we can both feel reasonably safe and relax in each other's company." I smiled for what seemed like the eight hundreth time that afternoon. "Thank you." She kissed my cheek. I kept my gaze on the floor. The elevator doors opened and we stepped in. I pressed the button for my floor. Loren gently pinned me against the wall of the elevator. "Don't get too comfortable." She said, gathering my wrists with one hand. Her other hand collected a handful of my hair and tilted my head back. She kissed my throat, then my lips. "I'm still not happy that you embarrassed me." My apartment was small and sparsely decorated. The heels of Loren's boots tapped on the hardwood floor as we entered. I stayed behind her at the door, throwing the locks. "There's not much here..." I stared to explain. But Loren silenced me with one upheld finger as she advanced into the main room of my studio apartment. I took a step forward. "No." She stated flatly, "Stay where you are for the moment." I stopped, unsure as to what I should do. I kept my eyes lowered. I clasped my hands in front of me and watched Loren out of the corner of my eyes. She walked into the kitchen but didn't stay long. The sound her boots made on the linoleum of my kitchen floor was higher pitched. I could tell when she returned just by the sound of her heels clicking. She stopped in front of me and lifted my chin with two fingers. Her eyes were beautiful. Azure. The inner edges of her irises seemed alive with colors as if pigment danced there completely oblivious of the darkness so nearby in the pupils of her eyes. Then I became aware that Loren was quiet. The expression on her face had changed. She raised her eyebrows. "Well?" She asked. "I..." I stammered. I considered telling her that I was lost in her eyes for a moment but doubted that she would believe such a cliche. "Please forgive me, but would you repeat the question?" She wasn't happy at that. Her hands found her hips. My gaze found the floor. "I'm through imagining you without clothing." Loren said in a matter-of-fact manner, "I don't want to have to rely on my daydreams any longer." Even though I kept my gaze on the floor I could tell Loren had paused to look at me. I felt myself blush a little. "Strip." "Yes Loren." I replied, and reached to untie my boots. "Stop." She said, with much more emotion than her precious instruction. Half bent over, I froze. "I'm Ms Loren to you." A few quick steps and she was directly in front of me. I remained frozen. I didn't dare move. I felt her fingers in my hair. She petted me softly. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the few seconds of tender attention a great deal. "Perhaps if you're lucky," She continued, "You might call me Mistress someday." Then she told me to continue but remained to pet my hair. My boots slipped off easily. I only had to untie the top laces and then slide a zipper that ran the inner length of the calves. My socks followed. I thought to fold them neatly but not to fuss over how I lay them or where I put them. I didn't want to be chastised for being a slob but I didn't want to be punished for taking too much time either. My tight fitting, long sleeved black cotton top was soon folded and sitting atop my socks. Ms Loren took a step back as I slithered out of my long, black pencil skirt. Her grin was predatory. I felt extremely exposed as I unfastened and folded my black bra. I was nearly nude but Ms Loren hadn't lost a single item of clothing. I felt a little frightened, embarrassed, and sexy all at once. I had an overwhelming desire to see her naked as well, lowering her sex onto my mouth as I was bound to my own bed. The thought made my own sex ache. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the straps of my black g-string panties. Then a delicious thought crossed my mind. I quickly turned my back to Ms Loren. I heard her open her mouth to say something until I began playfully slithering out of my panties. I heard her chuckle as I kept my legs straight, bent at the waist, and lowered my panties very slowly to the ground. "I think I'm going to enjoy this a great deal." Ms Loren said in a playful tone. Then her voice became stern, as it had been on the roof when she asked about my BDSM questioning over lunch. "Kneel on the bed with your hands on the headboard. Do you have rope, scarves, or a few belts? If so, where are they?" "Yes Ms Loren." I replied, "The rope is coiled beneath my bed. I've a single scarf wrapped around a vase in my closet. I've several belts in the bottom drawer of my dresser." She nodded. "Don't move your hands." She commanded. I stared forward and heard several faint swishing noises. I wondered what was in store for me. Did Ms Loren want the belts as an alternative bondage method to rope? Or did she intend to whip me with them and punish me for asking so candidly about her BDSM experience? I whimpered as she coiled the rope around my wrists and the bed's headboard. "Do you have safewords?" She asked. I nodded and told her what they were and what they meant to me. She had me repeat them a few times. They were easy to remember but I guessed that she wanted to be absolutely certain that she knew them. Or perhaps she only wished to pass the time while she secured my hands to the bed. "You whimpered." She stated, after walking out of my field of vision behind me, "Tell me the truth. Are you frightened?" "Yes Ms Loren." "On a scale of one to ten, how frightened are you?" I thought about it for a moment. "Four Ms Loren." "That's not so bad." Then I felt her hand between my thighs. She slid her fingers along the lips of my sex. I moaned and shuddered with delight. She placed her other hand on my bum to steady me. "Easy pet." She said lovingly, "You're not to reach orgasm until I give you permission. Do you understand?" "Yes Ms Loren." I answered. It was a throaty whisper. Her fingers returned to my sex. I moaned again and she laughed. "Well... it seems fear isn't the only thing you're feeling. Would you say that your arousal outweighs your fear right now?" "Yes Ms Loren!" Came my enthusiastic reply. She held two fingers in front of my face. "Really? Lick your scent from my fingers and tell me just how much your arousal outweighs your fear. Keep in mind that I want a complete, well stated, algebraic ratio." I closed my eyes. I could smell my sex on her fingers. I felt my cheeks burn hot with embarassment. "Yes Ms Loren." I answered. Then I extended my tongue and lapped at her fingers. I saw her squirm a little out of the corner of my eye. I was glad she seemed to be enjoying herself too. Her fingers tasted of amaretto mixed with vanilla ice cream. I licked and licked until she pulled them away. Then my eyes fluttered open. I desperately searched my mind. I remembered that I was supposed to do something but couldn't remember what it was. Then it came to me. "Ms Loren," I stated as best I could without the normal amount of blood traveling directly to my brain, "My current fear exists in a two to seven ratio to my current state of arousal." "Very good." Ms Loren replied, "You know your math, it seems." I was rewarded with her fingernails gently scratching the insides of my thighs. I whimpered. Then I moaned a bit more. When she touched my sex and pressed a finger into me I all but squealed. She withdrew and giggled. I guessed that she hadn't expected such a response, but I'd been wet and aching since we fist left the drugstore... perhaps earlier when she first slid her gaze over my body. I begged and begged her to continue. "Please Ms Loren, please don't stop! Please!?!?" But she wouldn't hear it. "Are you always this mouthy?" She asked with a grin. When I responded by begging she cupped one of my breasts. I gasped. My pleading was replaced with whimpers and moans as she alternately rubbed and pinched my nipples. "Well." She said, "That seems to shut you up." I was about to nod and agree when she pinched my nipple hard between her nails. Ms Loren released my poor nipple after I yelped. She chuckled a bit more before asking, "You're a bit loud for an apartment complex, don't you think?" I first nodded yes. Then said, "No Ms Loren." I didn't care so long as she touched me again. I wanted her soft hands all over me. "Does... does it matter?" Ms Loren smiled widely. "Yes pet. It matters." Then she disappeared into my closet. I whimpered and became a little frightened. For the first time it truly dawned on me that a stranger was in my apartment. With me. Alone. Just the two of us. And I was bound. Then Ms Loren returned with the scarf. I breathed a sigh of relief. I half smiled until she picked up the pair of panties I'd been wearing and I realized what she was doing. "This should shut you up." She said, just before wadding the panties, and stuffing them into my mouth. She waved a red painted fingernail in front of my face. "Don't spit." I only looked at her with pleading eyes. I didn't want to be gagged. It limited my speech. I couldn't communicate effectively. It objectified me... or made my objectification easier to a point. And yet, when Ms Loren threaded the scarf through my teeth, under my hair, and around my head I could feel my sex throbbing. While she tied it tightly I could think of little else except the fact that I wanted to beg, and beg, and beg to be touched but I couldn't. And that seemed only to make my excitement more profound. "There" Ms Loren said, stepping back to inspect her handiwork, "That's better." Then she lifted my black leather belt from the floor. She'd brought it from the closet too! I panted through my nose. I tried to plead but only tiny muffled sounds escaped the gag the devious blonde constructed and had strapped into my mouth. The belt was lifted into the air and landed across my bum with a loud smack. It felt like I'd been stung by a thousand bees in a line across my bum all at once. I pleaded into the gag. I showed puppy-dog eyes. I squirmed but the knots Ms Loren made were quite secure. "You're not to speak of BDSM while in my presence." Ms Loren commanded. Then she lashed the belt across my rear again. And again the bees stung. And again I yelped into the gag. "The only exception..." Smack! "...is if we are alone..." Smack! "...in either your apartment..." Smack! "...or my home." Smack! "Is that clear?" Smack! I was already in tears. I sobbed a bit and nodded my head. But it wasn't good enough. "I asked you a question, slut." Ms Loren stated in a very agitated voice. I felt fear push its way through pain. They mingled in my belly, leaving me cold and hot all at once. The belt came down across my bum again, harder this time. It ceased feeling like bees. It was on fire. The flesh of my bum was soaked in burning gasoline. I whined into the gag. I couldn't answer. How could she expect me to answer? I couldn't speak. I nodded my head up and down furiously. But it still wasn't enough. Ms Loren hit my bum again with the belt and flames raced through my nervous system. I screamed into the gag. "Yes Ms Loren! It's clear! I understand!" but all I could hear were muffled noises. It was enough. She lowered the belt and I felt a dam break inside me. I began sobbing anew. They were hard sobs, nearly convulsions. I cried and cried and cried. Ms Loren grabbed a wad of toilet paper from my bathroom and returned. She'd taken off her boots, sweater and skirt. All she wore was a bra and pair of panties. I wasn't sure when she'd undressed or even how. But she was suddenly on the bed with me... holding me... petting my hair... and that was all that mattered. She kissed my tears away and wiped my nose with the soft toilet tissue, whispering in my ear the entire time, "Good girl. Good girl." When I was fairly calm again she untied the scarf and removed the panties from my mouth. I was embarrassed by a little string of drool that followed the panties but Ms Loren only smiled and wiped it away with the toilet tissue. I made a mental note to buy an industrial size box of Kleenex the next time I visited the store. She began to untie me and I thanked her but she held one finger to her lips. I was mildly stunned. Why didn't she wish me to thank her? But I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to be gagged again so soon. I flexed my jaw a bit until I was untied. Then I was told to fetch a glass of water. I did so and was ordered to drink it, then use the bathroom. Ms Loren greeted me as I exited the bathroom. "I want you to undress me." She said. She was still wearing her lacy bra and panties and I happily obliged. I opened my mouth to ask how she'd like me to do it but she held a finger to her lips again. I pouted but nodded my compliance. I walked behind her and tightly gripped the two halves of her bra strap. After unfastening them, I kept them together... easing them apart slowly so her breasts weren't just suddenly unsupported. I knew it could feel uncomfortable, like someone had dropped them, if I took the bra off suddenly. That was the last thing I wished her to feel. So I eased her bra off slowly. Then I folded it and placed it atop her other clothing in the corner. I wondered when she found the time to partially undress as I knelt in front of her. Then everything else leapt out of my mind. My sex ached. I could smell her. She was very excited and I wanted nothing more than to taste her that very second. I thought of asking her if I could but then remembered that she'd shushed me twice. I guessed that she probably wouldn't shush me many more times before the belt or something worse became involved. So I looked up at her sex while I slid her panties slowly over her hips... down her thighs... over her shapely calves... and held them as she lifted one delicate foot, then the other from them. Ms Loren ordered me on the bed on my back. I complied and was surprised when she climbed on the bed from the opposite direction. But I was only surprised for a moment. She straddled my face and hovered her sex just above my mouth. "Do I have your attention?" She asked. I had to bite my tongue to keep from agreeing verbally. How could she NOT have my attention!?!? I nodded, remembering that she's shushed me before. "Good." She continued, "You're not to orgasm before I do. Is that understood?" I nodded again and was rewarded by Ms Loren lowering her sex toward my mouth. I could smell her. I wanted to taste her so very badly. I wanted to please her. I wanted to hear her shriek. I wanted to feel her dig her claws into my flesh and know that she did so because I gave her pleasure. I closed my eyes, reached out with my tongue, and was in heaven for a single moment. Then I sat upright in bed as though lightning crept in my window and touched my spine. A harsh sound filled my ears. It took me a few moments to realize that it was my alarm clock. My cat stretched atop the soft, purple comforter that covered me. It was a dream. It was only a dream. I slapped the snooze button and lay back down as quickly as possible. I had to get back there. I had to get back to Loren. It was what I wanted for so long, to serve a woman who enjoyed my submission... reveled in it. I shut my eyes tightly. I recreated as much of the dream as I could, hoping I'd slip back into it. But the alarm clock blared again. The snooze button received another spanking but I knew I couldn't go to sleep. Instead, I lay in bed thinking of the dream. I recreated Loren's face... how her hair smelled... how she tasted... how soft her touch was... how her hair smelled when she embraced me. I wanted all of it. But it was only a dream. I clutched my pillow and cried. Then I remembered my collar. I reached to my throat and felt the cool, smooth circlet of steel. My mind began to seperate the fantasy from reality. I remembered that I had promises to keep. I had responsibilities. I had what I wanted so badly in the dream. Only it wasn't in a New York City flat, and my Mistress' eyes weren't blue. I smiled to remember how lucky I truly was. Then I dried my eyes and threw myself out of bed. The alarm clock was turned off and the shower turned on. Twenty minutes later I knelt infront of my computer, wearing only a towel and still dripping, to write my daily e-mail to my Mistress. I knew she was at work by then, but thought of how she might enjoy hearing of my dream. Perhaps I could write it as a story for her.
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