Sensual Coached Bi
I met my Mistress on the beach a last year. It was a sunny day during my two week vacation. My wife had gone shopping and left me alone on the beach with some random mystery novels to read. I was just settling into my beach chair with a beer when this woman comes up and asks me if she can sit beside me. I say yes, of course, and proceed to read my book. I make a point of not looking at her closely. About fifteen minutes later, I happen to glance over and see the tattoo that covers the side of her calf from ankle to knee. It’s a whip that apparently winds around her leg. The words, “LADY DOMINATRIX” also appear on her leg. My eyebrows rise. I look at her discreetly. She is thin, medium height, with long black hair. She is in a black bikini with a nice tan. Her fingernails are long and red and she is holding an e reader in one hand, staring at the screen intently. I thought about all the articles I had read about BDSM and for some reason, she did not seem to be the type. Now I had to know if this woman was an actual Mistress. I asked her causally about her e reader and she responded that she loved it and probably would want to read her books this way from now on. I asked her a few more questions about it and she answered. I told her my name and asked for hers. That’s when she looked at me intently through her sun glasses and asked me if I was hitting on her. I was shocked by the question and told her adamantly no. Then I said guiltily that I had noticed her tat and it made me curious because I had always wanted to see about getting a FemDom Mistress.
She smiled and reached for her purse, took out her card and told me to meet her at her “office” nearby the following week. It was not a question or request. It was an expectation.
Show Up When You’re Told
Needless to say, I dutifully showed up at the appointed time. She became my best friend. The keeper of my most intimate secrets. I told her all the things that I kept hidden. Then one day she asked me, quite unexpectedly, if I had ever wanted to suck a cock. I usually didn’t lie to her, but I just could not bring myself to tell her about that need. I didn’t see myself as gay and didn’t want her to see me that way or ask me a million questions about why I thought I felt this way. I didn’t know why and didn’t want to discuss it. I had tried to go to bookstores or other places and got scared and left. I had even tried a place with glory holes and had to stop just as the guy put his cock in.
She looked silently at me for a long time and then changed the subject. I was relieved that she had dropped it without a fight. Or so I thought.
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Never Assume You Know What Your Mistress is Thinking
A few weeks later, she told me that we were going to a party together. She said not to worry about my identity would be disguised. I was to go as her slave and she would demand that I act as such. I was excited by the idea that I would be going somewhere with my Mistress. I must be on my best behavior and do everything she told me to. I told my wife I had an overnight business trip and left with a small suitcase filled with a leather mask that covered my head and upper face but left my lower face bare, a studded leather collar with matching cuffs and a leather thong. This was to be my outfit for the evening, which didn’t include shoes.
I arrived at the appointed time and served drinks to all my Mistress’ friends. They had dinner while I rubbed her feet. When they were leaving the table she told me to come into the living room with her. She had something for me to do. I quietly followed my head down.