At twenty-three, my life was as typical as most. I lived with a man I loved and assumed I would one day marry, I had a great group of friends who had similar interests as me ,and I had a decent job I liked with a great boss. All that said, I nevertheless had an empty spot inside me I just could never quite put my finger on. My boyfriend was a good lover, yet sexually I craved more. Like men do, I used the Internet to try and fulfill my repressed sexual desires. Watching porn didn’t do much for me, although I did begin to realize I liked the harder porn, where a man or woman dominated some submissive girl. I began fantasizing Dave treating me like a slut, but I knew it wasn’t his nature. I became the submissive girl in my fantasies that began with Dave, but slowly shifted to being predominantly lesbian fantasies. Searching the net one night I came across Literotica, a massive erotica story site. I read many stories, became a member, and began searching using key words: submissive, lesbian, domination. Each story got me off as I role-played in my head being the submissive girl who is slowly seduced into a wonderful web of sin and submission. I tried to hint to Dave of my sexual needs and kinks, but he was clueless, as men usually are. All these desires, fantasies and obsessions came to a blunt head a week ago.
It was a normal busy day like so many others, when she walked in. She was a chubby black woman with one of the prettiest faces I had ever seen. I immediately wondered how attractive she would be if she wasn’t overweight.
She sauntered to my desk, her walk oozing a confidence I rarely saw in a woman. “Hi beautiful, I have a 4:30 appointment. My name is Rosie, Big Rosie.”
I blushed at her compliment. Her smile screamed mischief. Her outfit screamed confidence, considering her size. Her blouse, with two buttons undone, barely held in her massive breasts; it also showcased her immense cleavage which left little to the imagination, although my imagination was already playing tricks on my straightness. Her black skirt was as short as today’s provocative teenagers wear,and her four-inch pumps were three inches higher than I ever wore.
Pulling myself out of my distracted state, I responded, “Welcome Rosie, Dr. Statesmen is a bit behind. Please take a seat.”
“I can wait,” she shrugged. Her eyes never left mine, “So what is your name?”
“Jamie,” I responded, oddly nervous and anxious around this pretty black woman.
“Nice to meet you, Jamie,” she politely greeted, taking my hand in hers. Unlike men who had kissed my hand in these moments, she put her other hand on top of mine and gently caressed my hand. The contrast between my white-as-snow skin and her black as night skin was oddly intoxicating.
I stammered, distracted by the touch and attention I was receiving, “N-n-nice to meet you too, ma’am.”
“Call me Rosie,” she smiled, still holding my hand.
“Nice to meet you Rosie,” I replied.
“Oh,” she purred, her voice so soft and sweet, “the pleasure is all mine.”
I was completely embarrassed at the attention she was giving me, and her tone dripped with implication. An undeniable tingle began to stir down below as all those naughty stories of being a submissive suddenly popped in my head; I briefly day-dreamed of this full-figured black woman seducing me and making me her sub. I just as quickly came back to reality as she asked, gesturing to a picture of Dave on my desk, “Is that your boyfriend?”
Suddenly wishing that picture wasn’t there, I admitted, “Yes.”
Not letting go off my hand, but instead allowing her fingers to gently trace imaginary figures on my hand, “Pity, the way you were checking me out, I thought you might play on my team.”
Suddenly self-conscious at how I was acting, I defended myself, “I was not checking you out.”
“You sure?” she teased, leaning forward a bit so her generous cleavage was directly in my face.
I stammered, desperately attempting to keep my dignity in this awkward conversation and yet not offend her, “W-w-well you are hard not to notice.”
Her smile broadened, “If you got it, flaunt it, I say. You think my tits are amazing, you should see my cunt; it is to die for.”
Her shocking word choice sent a chill down my spine. Trying to resist my growing desire, I asked, “Can I get you a coffee, juice or water?”
Her response confused me, even though her seductive tone was clear as day, “Oh, don’t you have anything else?”
“Like what?” I asked, my naive innocence on full display.
She grabbed a candy cane, usually there for our children patient, from my desk and unwrapped it slowly, her dark eyes boring into me. I felt she could see through me, could see my naughty fantasies no one else knew about. She smiled, pulling me in like a magnet, her dominant deviancy pulling me in like a fish unable to struggle.
She went and sat down, her eyes never leaving mine. Once seated, she opened her legs wide enough that I learned she was going commando, as I could see her pink puffy lips. I stared like a horny school boy would the first time he was at a strip club. Never breaking eye contact with me, she shoved the purple candy cane inside her vagina.
I gasped, but was unable to look away no matter how much I knew I should.
She pumped it in and out of her vagina a few times before standing up, walking to my desk and then behind it.
She ordered, her tone clearly implying this wasn’t a request, “Stand up,”
Nervous, yet curious, and completely unaware of her devious intentions, I obeyed.
“Good girl,” she commented, like my mother used to do when I was young. I blushed; slightly embarrassed by the tingle I was feeling down below, at being called a good girl. I briefly contemplated how this was like so many stories on Literotica I had pleasured myself to. The smiling black woman asked, “Are you wearing pantyhose?”
‘What an odd question’ I thought to myself. Actually this whole conversation was odd. My cheeks went even redder as I answered, suddenly embarrassed by my odd fetish, “I hate pantyhose. I am wearing thigh-highs.”
“Mmmmmmmmm,” she purred, her hand on my arm, ever so delicately, sending an uncontrollable chill up my spine, “you are going to make a good pet.”
“Pardon?” I muttered, completely rattled by her last comment and her hand still on my arm.
Ignoring my confusion, she placed the pussy-scented candy cane to my lips. I automatically opened my mouth and tasted her sticky sweetness. Again she complimented me, “Good girl, Jamie.”
She grabbed for a second candy cane and after discarding of the wrapper slid the candy cane under my skirt, startling me. I was frozen in a perfect blend of shock, denial and excitement. I watched, feeling almost out of body, oblivious to the reality that I was being seduced at my work. In my head I attempted to stop her, but the thoughts never translated into words. Instead, I felt her pull my panties to the side and I let out a gasp when she inserted the candy cane inside my wet pussy.
Her gaze kept mine, and when I attempted to look away, she ordered, “Look at me, my pet.”
I obeyed, looking into her dark chocolate eyes. Her eyes returned the gaze boring into my blue-grey eyes. She slowly pumped the candy cane in and out of me, as she spoke, “You will make the perfect little pet, won’t you, my dear?”
I didn’t know what to say. I was weak at the knees and light in the head. I didn’t really understand the question, so paralyzed by the events that had taken place. The sensation of the thin candy cane inside me had me getting more excited and I was still unable to speak.
Suddenly, the side door opened and with lightening quick reflexes she pulled the candy cane that had been giving me a pleasure I have never experienced out of me and backed up a bit. No one saw my naughty indiscretion, no one knew of my sinful submission. Rattled, I quickly sat back down and looked up to see Rosie putting the candy cane with my juices on it into her mouth. Her smile broadened as the man who had just had work done came to the desk to pay. Rosie stared at me a bit longer, the candy cane staying in her mouth, before she turned and walked into the open door. I quickly tried to recover as I dealt with the male customer. My face flushed, I feared he could read the weakness all over my face. Yet he paid the bill and left, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
The next forty-five minutes were pure torture. My head spun around and around, my thoughts a muddled mess. My pussy was still afire, begging for attention, all my recent fantasies having come to a head. Yet, I had an overwhelming guilt for allowing this black woman to treat me like a slut. The two contrasting feelings kept colliding with each other, creating a whirlwind of confusion. One minute I wanted to go to the washroom and get myself off, the next moment I wanted to rewind the clock an hour and never have this have happened. Yet, the longer I waited for the inevitable moment when she returned to my desk, the more I longed to be her pet…having time to consider the probable implications of being a pet. The guilt at potentially betraying my boyfriend Dave was countered by my growing desire to submit to someone and feel the thrill I had only felt while masturbating to naughty lesbian fantasies and reading similar stories.
Still bewildered at my feelings and mystified by the confident black woman, I twitched with uncontrollable nervousness when she walked through the door and returned to my desk. I handed her a copy of the bill, my hand shaking with trepidation, eagerly waiting for her next words.
She handed me her credit card, still not saying a word. The silence was killing me. A mixture of disappointment and relief filled me as I began to accept this was nothing more than a simple blip in the normality of my life. As I tried to deal with what was clearly more disappointment than relief, I returned her credit card. She took it and held onto my hand. Her seductive confident smile was back. With her free hand, she handed me a card and said in a voice so dripping in sexual implications I felt a gush in my panties, “I expect you at the following address tonight at 6:00. Is that understood?”
I stammered, her voice getting me wet, her eyes hypnotizing me and her hands warming my whole body, “U-u-um I-I-I, don’t know. I have plans with my boyfriend.”
She let go of my hand, her smile still there, but her tone shifting to one of authority, “Break them. I know and you know you want to.”
Before I could respond, she turned and walked away. Once at the door, she turned and looked at me one last time, “Don’t disappoint me, my pet to be.” Then she was gone.
Her offer, her order, lingered there in the air, me practically in a daze, my mind and body at odds with everything that had just occurred. I sat back down and replayed both brief encounters. There was no doubt I was mesmerized by her completely. She oozed sexuality in a way I always wished I could. Her confidence shined out of her and somehow she saw through my straight girl facade. She saw deep into my hidden thoughts, never revealed to anyone. How did she know I craved this type of submission? Why had she chosen me? These and many other questions spun in my head like a hamster on its wheel, as I finished up work and headed home.
Home, where I lived with my boyfriend, with the man I assumed that I would one day marry. Dave was a great man who was compassionate, caring, considerate and undeniably loyal. He was a man who loved me unconditionally.
Would he still love me if he knew what I had just allowed a large, black woman to do to me?
Would he love me if he knew how badly I craved this sort of submission?
Would he stay with me if he learned that I had gone to this woman’s house and done God knows what?
As these and many other questions ping-ponged in my brain, I realized I had already made up my mind. I had to go to Rosie’s house, if I didn’t I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life; I had to know. If I didn’t go and I married Dave, I would always wonder ‘what if’. That wasn’t fair to Dave and that wasn’t fair to me. I would go once and release this deviant sexual side of me that had began to corrupt me and hopefully once and for all come to understand who I was as a woman and as a lover.
I called Dave and told him someone I knew was having a crisis and I had to go and help her deal with it, which wasn’t a lie technically, even if the person having the crisis was me. Being the sincere and trusting man he was, Dave never questioned it and even offered to tape How I Met Your Mother for me and not watch it, so we could watch it together later. His sweetness gave me second thoughts, as I knew how much it would devastate him if I was to cheat on him, even with a girl. Some guys would be thrilled to have his girlfriend be with another woman, as long as they got to watch, but Dave wasn’t like that.
Suddenly self-conscious at how I looked, I decided to go and shop for a better outfit for the evening, an evening that was as unknown as sailing across the Atlantic Ocean to North America was hundreds of years ago. It was exciting, exhilarating and mind-numbingly scary. I finished packing up and headed to a nearby Victoria Secret, knowing my current made-for-comfort underwear was not made to be seen by anyone except myself. I needed sexy underwear, underwear that would enhance my smallish breasts and highlight my tight ass.
Two hours later, I had new undergarments and was driving to the address Rosie had given me, a nervous wreck. A mixture of anxiety, trepidation and giddy excitement stirred inside me uncontrollably. Every time I subdued one of my emotions, another would pop up. The roller coaster ride of emotions was draining me even before I arrived at my unknown destination. I sighed wishing I would have also bought some better shoes for the occasion, but I ran out of time.
Arriving at the address on the card, I took a deep breath, attempted to compose myself. I wanted to look confident and sexy, not like the insecure mess I was inside. Deciding it was now or never, I got out of my car, went to the door and knocked. As soon as I did, I began second guessing myself and regretting my decision to be here.
I was just beginning to turn around when the door opened. I was greeted by Rosie, still dressed in the same provocative outfit from earlier in the day. She smiled, seemingly knowing I would indeed take up her offer, and invited me in. “Come in, my pet.”
A chill went up my spine at being called pet and I walked in desperately trying to hide my nervousness, but to no avail.
“You are nervous, my pet,” she acknowledged, taking my hand and leading me into an open style living room.
I stammered, like a shy school-girl, “I-I-I have never done this before.”
“Done what?” the pretty black woman inquired, her smile implying she knew exactly what I meant.
I tried to answer, but it came out rather incoherently. “I have never, I mean I usually don’t, I um, I don’t, um….”
She had me sit on a white couch and put her hand on my leg. She asked, “You have never been with a woman before, have you?”
Unable to speak, I shook my head in the negative.
“But you have fantasized about it, haven’t you?”
Still struggling for a coherent verbal response that was not coming, I nodded my head in the affirmative.
“Do you want to be my pet?” she purred, her mouth leaning towards my ear. I could feel her hot breath teasing a very sensitive erogenous zone.
I nodded my head tentatively in agreement.
Biting my ear lightly, she whispered, my body weakening from her touch, “I need to hear your answers, my pet.”
I stammered, distracted greatly by her tongue now in my ear, “I-I-I, um, yes I want to be your pet,” even though I was still pretty unclear about what such a declaration entailed completely.
Only my increased breathing could be heard, as Rosie nibbled my ear ever-so-delicately, an erotic, sensual tease. I melted at her touch and was no longer remotely hesitant at submitting to whatever this black seductress had planned for me. I was willing to submit unconditionally, like so many of those girls had in the many stories I had read the past couple of months. I craved to experience in real life, what I had been compulsively fantasizing about for a while.
She finally let go of my ear and moved to look me directly in the eyes. The intimacy of a face-to-face conversation so rare between a man and a woman was incredibly sensual at this moment. She explained, “You must understand, Jamie, that becoming my pet is not a decision one should make rashly. It includes complete obedience and undying loyalty. It also comes with the ultimate pleasure I am sure you have never experienced, but have been craving.”
The words “complete obedience” and “undying loyalty” had alarm bells echoing in my head, but were overshadowed by the promises of “ultimate pleasure”. I asked, trying to understand her full expectations, “W-What do you expect from me?”
Her smile got bigger as she knew I was already caught in her web of seduction. “Well, for starters, you will obey every command I make. You will never lie to me and you will be loyal to me even over your boyfriend.”
Confused by her expectations, I asked, “You want me to break up with my boyfriend?”
“No, I didn’t say that. Although I expect you eventually will, as you will become so intoxicated with the pleasure that comes with pleasing me and other women that men will no longer interest you.”
“Other women?” I questioned, realizing I may be in way over my head.
“Yes, other women. A good pet is one that doesn’t question her training, a training that includes many fun-filled adventures with me, my friends and other very powerful and attractive women.”
My head reeled with this new revelation. I had never completely known what would be expected of me tonight, but it never occurred to me that it would be more than just tonight. It also never occurred to me that I would be expected to please more than the voluptuous Rosie. I stuttered, “I-I-I thought this would be a onetime thing.”
Her smile actually got bigger, as she promised, so sure of herself, “Oh, my cute little pet, once you have tasted my cunt, you will be addicted and do almost anything for the privilege to savour my sweet nectar again and again.”
Her confident demeanour was seductive in an inexplicable way, and I just sat beside her speechless at her expectations and her predictions.
“Tell you what,” she bargained, “I will give you one taste for free. But if you want a second helping of my cunt, you will have to submit unconditionally to me.”
I remained silent, no longer able to process my bizarre predicament or the undeniable stirring that was warming my vagina down below.
She stood up and quickly discarded all her clothes, in seconds standing before me completely naked. Her huge breasts had me in jealous awe in comparison to my small 34B breasts. She sat back down, opened her legs and ordered gently, “On your knees, my pet.”
Unable to speak, so completely mesmerized by her breasts and my desire to touch and suck them, I slid off the couch and onto my knees. I crawled between her black legs and was soon looking directly at her trimmed but hairy pussy. I was frozen, unable to move forward, yet also unable to back away. Although I had fantasized about this very moment so many times over the past couple of months, making fantasy a reality was a much tougher line to cross. I understood once I moved forward and crossed the line, it was quite possible I would never be able to go back to the life I knew and was comfortable in. I was startled when Rosie warned, “I don’t mean to rush you, my pet, but I have an engagement at eight.”
My eyes went wide with the thought of someone seeing me in this humiliating sexual position. Rattled, but already being drawn in by the intoxicating scent that lingered just in front of me, I crossed the invisible line and moved my mouth towards Rosie’s vagina. Leaning forward, I opened my mouth, extended my tongue and tasted my first vagina. The taste was even more heavenly and unimaginable than the many stories I had read had promised. A sweet tang lingered in my mouth and I eagerly lapped at her vagina wanting more.
I heard her moan, “You like my cunt, don’t you, my pet?” When I didn’t answer, but continued licking, she pulled my head up and asked again, “You like my cunt, don’t you, my pet?”
Craving more of her luscious juices, I answered the humiliating question, “Yes, I like your vagina.”
“My vagina,” she chuckled. “A beautiful woman like myself has a pussy or cunt, my pet.”
I apologized, rephrasing my answer, attempting to avoid the word I hated the most, “Sorry, I-I-I like your pussy.”
“Better,” she approved, pulling me in to her ocean of sin.
Although the hair was a bit of a nuisance in getting comfortable with licking her pussy, the pubic hair did seem to capture her scent, allowing it to just linger there. I revelled in her scent and continued licking her pussy, attempting to retrieve more of her juice. I tried desperately to remember the vivid depictions of eating pussy I had read online. I took her big swollen clit in my mouth and watched her involuntarily flinch. Happy my attempt at pleasing her was working; I continued a mixture of licking her pussy lips and sucking on her clit. Back and forth I went, her breathing getting heavier.
Her words also kept me both determined and aroused in an absurd way. “That’s it, my pet, lick my black box,” or “Good pet, you are going to make a great addition,” or “I can’t believe this is your first time eating cunt,” or “You are a natural cunt licker, my pet.” Each absurd compliment made me wetter, and made me more determined to please her and get her off. I licked faster, I sucked on her clit harder and I began to use my teeth gently to nibble. As her breathing increased, I knew she was close, I could just feel it, and so I slid a finger inside her damp pussy. She screamed and demanded, “Finger-fuck me, pet!” I obliged and was soon rewarded with a flood of her sweet nectar. Her legs tightened around me and I was trapped in a wave of her cum. I continued to lap, eager to get as much of her juice as possible.
Rosie pushed my head away, surprising me and I stumbled to the floor. My face was coated in her cum. She smiled at me as she looked down, “So, my pet. Is this a one-time thing? Or are you ready for your first task as my pet?”
My consideration was brief, as she predicted, I craved her and was already addicted in the same way I was addicted to coffee in the morning. I needed it more, I wanted more. I whispered, “I’m ready for my first task, Miss.”
“Miss,” she chuckled, “I like that.” She stood up and stretched. I sat transfixed on her large breasts and the trickle of her cum slowly slithering down her dark leg. Seeing me staring at her like a love-sick teenager, she said, “Want one last taste, my pet?”
Without hesitation, I leaned forward, already craving another taste of her addictive sweetness, and cleaned her leg.
“You will make a very good little white slave, my pet,” she teased, her hand petting my hair like I was a puppy. Shame burned in me suddenly at my lack of dignity, but the reality was I was completely at the whim of this black Goddess. I just wanted to please her; I just wanted the opportunity to taste her again and again.
She moved away and ordered, “Follow me, my pet.” I began to stand up, but was rebuked. Her voice remained calm and sweet, “Crawl, my pet.”
The expectation surprised me, but I obeyed, falling back onto my knees and I followed her into her bedroom. I could feel my cheeks burning with humiliation with each step I crawled. How quickly my life had changed. Just this morning I was living a normal humdrum life, and now I was crawling like a dog to a woman I had just met. It was so bizarre, and as unbelievable as any sex story I had ever read, yet it was the truth. I was living and breathing this reality.
When we arrived in her bedroom she led me to her bed and offered, “You may stand, my pet.” I thankfully obeyed; my knees were beginning to get sore.
She smiled and asked, “You are trying to consider what to call me aren’t you?”
“Yes, m-um-m,” I began, almost calling her Mistress, but caught myself.
She smiled, “You want to call me Mistress, don’t you, my pet?”
“Yes,” I whispered, so quietly because of the shame I was feeling it was almost inaudible.
“You may, my pet. But once you call me Mistress, I own you completely. You are my possession, my personal plaything. I will insist you submit to me in front of your boyfriend. I won’t make you break up with him. That will be your choice. But he will know that I am your Mistress and your loyalty is to me first,” she explained. “I may even go with you to your parents and make it clear that you are a cunt-licker.”
The future so clearly explained to me had me a mental mess. Before I had time to make a decision, she gave me the time I needed, “You don’t have to decide now, my pet. It is a very big decision. But I do want you to help me get dressed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I used, choosing my words carefully.
“Ma’am,” she laughed hard. “I can’t get over that one.”
She went to her closet and returned with white stockings. She instructed, “Put my stockings on your maybe Mistress, my pet.”
The word Mistress sent a surprised pleasure shock directly to my pussy. I took the stocking, and slowly rolled it up her black legs. The white stockings were a sharp contrast to her chocolate skin. Once my hands reached the top, I paused, looking directly to her hairy pussy.
She smiled and reassured, “Don’t worry my pet, I am not stingy with my cunt. I can come over and over and over again. But not right now, sadly, I have to leave pretty soon.” Stopping at her closet door, “Oh, my pets do not wear underwear. No panties or bra except for when Aunt Flow visits.”
My craving growing, my pussy beginning to tingle again, I obeyed and rolled the second stocking on. She went back to her closet and I stood up and unfastened my bra from my blouse and tossed it on her bed. I began buttoning up my blouse, aware that my stiff nipples would be clearly visible through the sheer white blouse.
Rosie returned and handed me a black leather skirt. Assuming what was expected of me; I dropped back to the floor and slid the skirt up her stocking-clad legs. Once on, I went to her back and zipped the skirt up. She turned around and her massive breasts were staring at me. I looked down at them, desperately wanting to touch them, kiss them. As if reading my mind, she offered, “Go ahead, my pet. I know you want to touch my tits.”
Without hesitation, I put my hand on her big round left breast and held it in awe. As if in a trance, I moved forward and took her long erect nipple in my mouth. She allowed me to pleasure her breast for a minute or two before promising, “Next time, you may make love to them with your mouth, my pet.” She actually patted me on my head, like a puppy. I should have been humiliated, yet instead I felt excited, like a puppy would when its Master petted it.
She noticed my bra on her bed and asked, “Are your panties still on?”
“Yes Mistr….” I began, catching myself at the last minute.
She smiled knowingly, clearly expecting that one day soon I would be calling her that regularly. “Hand them over,” she demanded, extending her hand.
I quickly got out of my very soiled panties. She moved them to her nose and complimented, “Hmmm, you have a very sweet scent, my pet.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” I graciously replied, every kind word just one more strand on a very thin rope that was keeping my utter submission from occurring.
She handed me a bra that was massive in size and yet sexy just the same in white lace. Without any instructions, I put her bra on her beautiful tits and buckled it up. She ordered, “Go into my closet and get me my black blouse.”
I obeyed and returned with two, unsure which she wanted. She pointed to my right hand and I again, without instruction, dressed the beautiful black Goddess. I buttoned up each button, slowly watching her voluptuous breasts disappear behind the thin black fabric.
As I went to button the last two buttons, she instructed, “Stop. I need to keep some cleavage out and about.”
“Of course, Ma’am,” I agreed.
“We are almost done. Go get the black four inch heels with the open toe.”
I again obeyed and returned to see her sitting on the edge of her bed waiting. I again fell to my knees, something that seemed to be rather regular today. I grabbed her stocking-clad ankle and slowly slid the shoe on her foot. In my head the story Cinderella suddenly popped up and I smiled at the absurdity of it all. I put on her second heel and waited further instruction.
Standing up, she announced, “I think you will be a very good pet, Jamie, a very good pet.”
I remained in my submissive position in silence.
She handed me her phone and ordered, “Type your number in, my pet.”
I eagerly obeyed.
Once done, I handed her back the phone and she said, “I will be texting you one day soon. Until then you have time to reconsider becoming my pet, although I doubt you will change your mind.”
She pulled me up and kissed me, more tenderly than I have ever been kissed.
Once she broke it, she repeated an earlier thought. “You desperately need this, my pet. You are clearly not getting the training you need from your boyfriend. I bet he is even clueless to your desperate desire to submit to him, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I replied with a sigh.
“As you wait for my text, which may come tomorrow, a week from now or a month, I expect you to follow just a few simple instructions.”
I stared at her eagerly, wondering what they might be.
Understanding I was waiting to hear the conditions she explained, “First, of course as already instructed, no panties or bra. Second, you will only wear thigh high stockings or a garter belt and stockings, so I can have easy access to your tight pussy whenever I want to. Third, and lastly for now, you will always have your phone on so when I decide it is time I will not have to wait. Is that understood?”
I nodded, anxiety spreading all around me.
“Good,” she said, “You may go now, my pet.”
Silently, not able to even begin to form a sentence, I walked out of her room, her house and back into the real world.
In my car, I allowed the day’s bizarre events to replay in my head. What had I just done? Why had I done it? What was I to do now? How was I going to face my boyfriend after my infidelity? These and a million others ricocheted in my head as I pondered my new predicament.
As I considered the options before me on my drive home I wondered if I could pretend that today never happened and go on living my vanilla life. Could I break up with the man I knew deep in my heart was perfect in almost every way and I was sure I would one day marry?
As I continued wondering which of these two I would choose my phone vibrated. I pulled over and saw the message was from an unknown number. A chill went up my back at the possibility it was from Rosie. I clicked on it.
Kitty.
I want you to pull over wherever you are right now and bring yourself to orgasm thinking of your complete submission to your black Mistress.
Do it now!!!
Mistress Rosie
Without hesitation, I slid my finger in my already wet pussy and began fucking myself. Being on the side of the road in a rather busy area was distracting, as I was too nervous of being caught to close my eyes and just let go. It took longer than usual, but the crescendo finally hit and I came on the side of the road like a cheap slut. Strangely, instead of shame, I felt good and texted back.
Miss Rosie,
I obeyed your command.
Thank you for thinking of me.
Your hopeful sub.
As I pulled back on the road and home to my boyfriend, I wondered if there was any possible way I could have it all? Could I keep my boyfriend who I loved and also the powerful Mistress I desperately needed? I couldn’t imagine a life without him and yet I couldn’t imagine never submitting to Rosie again.
Could I have it all? I would soon learn the answer to that question….
The End for now…