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OK babe got to run (as Mike kisses his wife quickly on the check) or I’ll miss my plane.I’ll call you when I get there ok. See you in about a week babe.

Debbie could here his footsteps as Mike walked out of the house she laid there in bed thinking about this morning how dull her like had become mostly the sex Mike just laid there on top of her pumped a few times finished then got off went to go shower (guess he figured that is my birthday present (the prick) at one time she though how hot and romantic it used to be but any more there was nothing there nothing at all maybe it was just her? Dam it, it’s my birthday this week (she would be 40) and the sun of a bitch didn’t even say anything about it before he left maybe I am going through a mid life crises I don’t know then the tears started rolling off her checks. Fuck this shit I’m so tired of the same bullshit… and he didn’t even say happy birthday. Let alone take me out to dinner not even a fucking card and tomorrow is my birthday maybe I’ll just go out and get fucked by some stranger that would fix him but Debbie new she would not do that she felt hurt knowing Mike had forgotten her birthday).

It was true Debbie didn’t know what was wrong maybe she just a good cry but something was missing and she didn’t know what it was. She wiped the tears from her face and got out of bed and took a hot shower that made her feel a little better but the empty feeling that she had been carrying around for the last couple of weeks was still there haunting her every move (Debbie slipped on a short teddy) just then she heard the door bell ringing.

Debbie had planed spending the day on the computer in the chat rooms but Mike had upset her so much that it just spoiled it for her she had been enjoying chatting with all the hot men and a few of woman also there at times she thought that she would meet one of them and have some hot fun she had chatted with a few that sounded really great ones that made her hot wet and horny and as she would chat she would play with herself and there was one woman that she wanted really bad even though she had never been with a woman before she new that giving the right time and the right woman she would do anything that another woman wanted her to do she was going to chat with one of the woman that she thought was sexy as hell today over the last few mouth she had fucked and sucked quite a few men and women online this was her only release that she had she new that she would always CUM while chatting with them.

She went to the door opened it and there stood the UPS man…

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C h a p t e r  O n e

Her door clicked shut behind me, signaling the beginning of our first real session. Mistress Dominique and I had been somewhat heterosexual lovers in the recent past and that had evolved into a unique friendship, which through my introduction of her to S&M had brought us to this beginning.

We met during my divorce. She was 5′9 in her stocking feet, half-Spanish, half African American, so her looks, skin and body were from fantasyland. Classic beautiful features of Mediterranean and African were sculpted over her face, and a deep copper glow appeared over her skin when excited. Her breasts were large. She wore a 44-DDD bra and, for a woman in her late 30’s, only a natural sag because of their tremendous volume. Large, dark nipples, the thickness of my pinky finger and slightly over an inch in length, jutted out from expansive deep and dark, copper-colored areolas. Her ass, one of the first sights I had of her, was marvelous, a modified bubble ass of her maternal African American heritage–but a little more wide for her size and perfect!“Take off your clothes, now, Cumslut!” her strong voice commanded from behind me.

I immediately obeyed. My cock jutted out through my jockeys as I pulled them down and within me a warm glow, a fever of sorts, a feeling of total submissiveness, burned. Harder and longer than I could ever imagine, or remember my cock became completely the center of my consciousness. I knew what to expect somewhat and this 6.5 organ controlled me completely; my bliss to do whatever she wanted just to have this epitome of erections.

My divorce was over my latent homosexual urges, ones I had had as a teenager but had suppressed completely. My wife reacted badly when I came out to her about my urges. And not long after that, I began going to Adult Bookstores and watching gay films, masturbating incessantly. A few times I slid my hardon through the Glory Hole and was pleasured by a gay in the next booth. So much did I want to kneel and service a cock with my mouth! But something inside me held me back…

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The night air was pleasant, cool and slightly moist against your skin, but it brought you no peace. As you leaned out over the balcony, surveying the reflecting pools and gardens of the estate stretching out into the moonlight, you tried to relax, enjoy the panorama, and ignore the sound of the music, laughter, and dancing in the ballroom down the hall from the study whose window you had flung open. Flung open at the end of a mad flight from the ball, trying to escape that which you most desired and, yet, by which you were most terrified.

The party had begun pleasantly enough. You had come unescorted, determined you have a good time regardless of who had or had not come with you. There were enough unattached men, or just outrageous flirts, to more than fill a casual night. Perhaps you would meet someone interesting, or particularly attractive, you had thought, but put the subject from your mind: no expectations except for diversion.

Then, two hours or so after the first dancing had begun, she had entered the room. It was between dances, and the crowd was busy with angling through the floor, looking for someone to ask for the next dance, or making themselves obvious to the person they wished would ask them. When the dark figured had filled the doorway, many had turned to look. Most had given a quick, appreciative glance, and then returned to their partners. You had not; although you were across the room, you stopped and stared as if turned to stone.

She was tall, at least six feet. She was dressed in black, in a perfect coachman’s uniform. She wore tight pants fit into calf-high boots, shiny and well-polished. Her vest, cut to give her a tight V-figure, was closed with a double row of bright silver buttons. Those, and her white cravat, were the only thing which were not black, black to the point of absorbing the light around her. Her hands and fingers were long and delicate as she casually tapped the palm of one hand with a riding crop. Her features were strong, aristocratic, not feminine except in their beauty. Her close-cropped hair was nearly completely concealed by a coachman’s top hat. But her eyes drew you most of all. Large, intense, as dark as her clothing, they held to the promise of lust, passion, power and even cruelty

The band struck up a waltz on a slightly off note, shocking you back to reality. You dimly were aware of your partner taking your hand and leading you onto the dance floor, and the movement gradually brought you to earth. Occasionally as the dance progressed, you would glimpse her dancing with women (and always leading). But after every dance, she was someplace else, asking someone else to dance; you could never seem to get near to her. Finally, the impression of her first appearance faded, and the evening continued.

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