The Reluctant Mistress and Her Unexpected Transition
I was the reluctant Mistress. It started after we had been dating a year or so, one Sunday morning after some delightful vanilla sex, when Danny leaned his head on an elbow and gave me his serious look, those dark eyebrows forming inverted V’s and lines of worry etched on his forehead. He said he wanted to say something important, something he’d been meaning to say for a long time, but he didn’t want to freak me out.
I sat up, wrapping the sheet around my breasts, no doubt the expression on my face quite alarmed, thinking that he was about to tell me he had cheated on me. Or that he was secretly gay.
He stammered, not quite stuttering but his words coming it fits and bits, that he had secret longings to be dominated by a girl, by me. I said I didn’t know what that meant. He said that I was naturally a little bossy and that I would be a natural. I took offense and slapped him on the thigh.
“See what I mean?” he said with a crooked grin.
“That’s just because you were rude.”
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t quite how I meant it,” he protested, sitting up so that we were now facing one another, eye-to-eye. I loved his liquid brown eyes, deep and mysterious. “What I meant is you know what you want and you don’t suffer fools. Like that guy at Trader Joe’s, the check-out guy.”
The check-out guy at Trader Joe’s was trying to flirt, even though Danny was right there with me in line. A total jerk. I told him that guys with bushy nasal hair turned me off.
Back to Danny. “Just what did you have in mind?”
He told me about the websites that cater to this, that there were books, even mistress manuals to give me pointers. “So you want to call me Mistress?” I asked him.
He squirmed. “Uh, well . . .” He finally choked out a strangled, “Yes, that would be part of it.”
“How long have you felt this way, Danny?” I asked him, taking his trembling hands in mine.
“Since I was an adolescent,” he admitted. “My first fantasies were of being tied up and spanked by a girl, her playing with me, jerking me off or making me service her cunt with my tongue.”
“Wow.” No wonder he gave such great cunnilingus, I thought. Danny loved to go down, more than anyone I ever dated. Confession: I had already fallen in love with this boy, the most attentive lover I ever had, ten years younger, sweet, handsome as a model (well, like the guys you see in in a Target clothing ad), a lithe swimmer’s body (yup, he swam in high school). We met at the auto repair shop where I took my Civic, the same strip mall as the bank where I am a loan manager. No wonder he was so eager to please, with those sort of fantasies running around in his head.
“You want me to wear leather outfits and whip you, then?” I said. Of course, I’ve seen the images.
“Only if you want to.”
“I see.” Well, what a surprise. I was a normal girl with a normal sexual appetite, hoping to meet the guy I would marry and have kids with. Maybe I was a little bossy, but I grew up with three bratty brothers and babysat all the way through college. I knew how to handle misbehaving boys.
I gathered my thoughts. “Danny, I like wearing lingerie as much as the next girl, but I’m not into leather and whips. I just can’t see myself being a dominatrix.”
He looked disappointed. “Well, it’s not so much you playing a dominatrix as you expressing yourself in assertive ways without thinking twice,” he said. “It’s more about being assertive, and knowing that I’ll love it when you are.”
I Just had to be ME.
I looked at him dubiously. “Just me being assertive will do it for you . . . but you said you have fantasies of being spanked and used.”
He squirmed again, blushing. I loved it when he blushed. “Being spanked by you would be better than when you frown at me and look disappointed. I’d rather you just spank me and tell me why you’re mad. I hate it when I have to guess.”
Thoughtfully I looked at him. I was as guilty as the next girl about expecting a man to read my mind. The articles in women’s magazines said we should voice our true feelings. I loved Danny’s pert white ass, so well-defined by dark tan lines. “So if I spank you when I’m mad at you, you’ll be happy?”
He swallowed hard. “Only if you tell me what I did wrong when you spank me, make me repeat it and promise not to do it again.”
God I loved this boy, so eager to please. I knew he loved me back. It was written all over his face.
I made a decision. “Okay, lay on my lap, face down.”
“Right now,” I ordered in my sternest babysitter’s voice.
Danny looked shocked, but he did what I told him, crawling over my thighs and positioning himself so that he lay perpendicular to me, his head to my right. It didn’t seem right. “Flip the other way, I want your head to my left, legs to the right, so I can use my right hand.”
He turned his head and looked at me inquisitively. “Really?”
“Really,” I said firmly. “Do it.”
He gave a sigh, sort of a disbelieving chuckle but got on his knees and rotated the other way. I saw that his cock, so recently spent, was growing hard again. Fancy that—I’d never seen him recover so fast.
Now Danny was prostrate on my lap, his penis hard against my thigh, his butt in the air, breathing much harder than normal. I ran through the catalog of recent offenses; the worst I could think of was that last night at dinner he left crumbs on the floor, as he often did when he ate. He seemed to have a fork-to-mouth disconnect. He never thought to clean his crumbs off the floor. I had swept them up this morning while the coffee brewed. It was all I could think of at the moment.
Our First Experience
I drew up my courage and swatted him on the ass as hard as I dared. “That’s for leaving crumbs on the floor when you eat.”
His body jerked with surprise. A red mark welled on his butt, but silence from the victim.
“What do you say?” I demanded, using the same voice I used on my babysitting charges.
That wouldn’t do. I swatted him again, this time with my palm cupped so that it made a satisfying harsh “thwack” noise. He flinched harder. “When I spank you, say ‘Sorry, Mistress, what have I done wrong?’”
Pause. “Sorry, Mistress. What have I done wrong?”
My hand stung a little, but strangely, I liked it. It was amazing, I felt exhilarated, letting it all come out.
Exhilarated; I loved it
“You eat like a pig and leave crumbs on the floor!” I smacked him again. He flinched again, then blurted, “I eat like a pig and leave crumbs on the floor.”
I slapped his butt again. “No, that’s wrong. Say, ‘Sorry, Mistress. I won’t eat like a pig or leave crumbs on the floor ever again. I’ll pick up after myself.’”
“Sorry, Mistress. I won’t eat like a pig and I promise to pick up my crumbs from the floor.”
“Better.” I rubbed his ass, feeling a little guilty about the red blotch. But his cock was rock hard, I could feel it throbbing against my crotch. Obviously, spanking aroused him. Even more surprising, I felt myself growing wet. Surprise, surprise.
“There’s another thing,” I said, my hand raised above his ass. Danny looked back at me, his face flushed. He saw my arm lifted in the air and the expression was almost terror. I suppressed the urge to laugh; here was a grown man, half again my size, afraid of me? Nevertheless, I brought my hand down just as hard as I could. A loud “thwack” reverberated against the walls of my small bedroom. His ass jerked up violently and he yelped in pain, buried his face in the sheets. A large welt rose up on his right cheek.
He lifted his head. “Yes, Mistress?” he cried out, confused.
Honesty is Key
I leaned close, putting my lips against his ear. Softly I murmured, “My sweet boy, that was for keeping your fantasies from me for over a year. From here on out, you are going to be completely honest with me, aren’t you? You’re going to tell me your every fantasy, aren’t you?”
He turned his head. “Yes, Vanessa,” he squeaked, sounding like a boy.
I spanked him again, this time on the left cheek. He cried out in shock.
“Yes, Mistress!” I corrected. “Look me in the eye and say it like a man.”
Those deep brown eyes locked on mine. I saw fear, but also, a look that could only be interpreted as gratitude, maybe even joy. “Yes, Mistress,” he said formally, the way you’d speak to a police officer.
I Own you
“Roll over, Danny.” I wanted us both to see his throbbing erection.
“Yes, Mistress.” He rolled over. His cock stood eight inches at rigid attention. I took it in my hand and squeezed it hard. “And who owns this?” I demanded.
“You own it, Mistress,” he choked.
“That’s right, I do,” I said. “Your cock is mine from this day forward.”
I said those words as if reading a script that I had long ago memorized. It was one of those “aha!” moments when destiny assigns you a role you never knew was yours. Maybe I wasn’t a dominatrix, but I had never seen Danny so hard, and I liked it. A message for us both. I came to a decision.
“Danny, you’ve longed for this moment since the day we met, haven’t you?”
His Full Admission
His chagrined expression was all the admission I needed to know it was true.
“Say it,” I spoke, squeezing his rock-hard member.
“I . . . I’ve always wanted this . . . yes, Mistress.”
“You want me to be in charge, you want me to own your sex. Say it.”
“I want you to be in charge of my sex, Vanessa, yes.”
I slapped his balls, making him wince. He grimaced. “I want you to be in charge, Mistress.”
I climbed to my knees and carefully mounted Danny’s engorged cock. Looking down at his enraptured face I said, “This is for my pleasure only. You may not cum without my permission, understood?”
No Cumming without Permission
“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned, panting.
“If you cum, I won’t just spank you; I won’t let you have an orgasm for a month, understood?”
“I won’t cum, I promise, Mistress,” he said obediently.
“No you won’t . . . and if you do, I’ll lock you in a cage and throw away the key.”
My words shocked me; where did they come from? I didn’t even own a cage.
Danny’s eyes rolled back in his head; subspace. It was at that moment that I first tasted true feminine power, the realization that if I controlled a man’s orgasm, I controlled him, and he wanted me to have that power. It was intoxicating; a wave of sexual pleasure flowed through me. That morning I would come again and again, riding Danny’s cock. He would writhe in sweet agony, trying not to cum, and ultimately he would fail.
The Start to our New Life
And so we began, I the reluctant mistress and Danny my submissive slave, entwined roles that I have come to believe were destined in the stars.
Next episode: The Reluctant Mistress Part 1