Perhaps I did.
It was a long drive on Saturday to get to where I wanted. It felt important to be far away from everything, to relax, unwind. It was a little bit unorthodox for me to go out this soon after Thursday, but it was needed. While my body had been satisfied in a sexual sense, it still craved contact. Finding contact that suited my desires, however, would not be easy. I dressed up nice, using only a hint of make-up to take off five or six years, at least that was the intention. My skin, still soft and smooth, was a blessing. Making it easier to pass myself off as a wide range of ages.
And I felt this strange need to be submissive.
The aim of my nightly venture was a place I hadn't gone for quite some time. A gay bar. While for men it might be a somewhat touchy subject, for women however, it just means a bar with better than average music, style and entertainment where you don't get hit on as often. Of course there are still annoying people, as there are everywhere, that get too drunk and go too far. But the atmosphere, in general, is nicer. It was fairly crowded and colorful inside. Clothing of much brighter colors were reaffirming the original meaning of gay for this bar as well. I was curious to see what would happen if I didn't step forward at all.
Tonight it was their turn to seek me out.
The first few people that approached me were not interesting. While they were trying to lure me to the space between their sheets, it wasn't with any elegance or real effort. Hours passed with me walking around, standing, dancing, spying for people that might have been interesting. There were a few boys and girls that looked fun, but taken. It felt like a lost night until a woman came up to me and shared my dance. There was something dominating about her, a presence of power that flowed naturally rather than forced. Every time our glances aligned, never by accident, more of the story was exposed; about how I felt tonight, what I wanted and what her intentions were. And each one of those alignments lasting longer than the last.
Needless to say, I was intrigued.
She started talking to me between songs, asking me questions that fell outside of the normal scope of curiosities. Rather than trying to find out my name, occupation, age or similar, she immediately inquired about my submissive stance and how it appeared to clash with my visible character. She openly admitted having looked at how I moved, who I judged and rejected. She appeared, at first glance, to be slightly older than me (but turned out to be only twenty-eight), with plenty of experience marked in her face. She led me to a corner to test me, feeling my arm, side and even my breasts for a moment. It felt really good, exactly what I needed. She was a mistress, but not a sadistic one.
I wanted her.
Letting the moment lead me, almost jumping around like an excited and curious little girl, she walked me to her car. She didn't live too far from here but it was impractical to leave my own car here. On the other hand, I didn't want her to get my car's license plate, model or make, so I got inside hers. We drove for less than five minutes, prolonged slightly by playful teasing between the two of us, before we reached her house. It was a two story house, designed plainly on the outside but the inside was tastefully and richly decorated. Most furniture consisted of dark wood with light upholstery for contrast. Lighting was, as she turned it on, surprisingly rich. One fixture on the ceiling gave off a nice ambient glow, while the two standing lamps on each side of the longest sofa shone brightly, illuminating the room. The sudden light did not vanquish the darkness completely, rather it emphasized shape and texture, giving depth to everything in the room.
Things began, strangely.
She kept control over the situation by giving me very direct commands. Kiss, caress, touch, stay... Most of them catching me off guard, but making things interesting. She did almost nothing but sit there, having me do all kinds of things as I followed her commands. And, while it's not exactly a common thing for me to do or enjoy, it was surprisingly fun and pleasurable to be at her complete beck and call. A major advantage for me was that she wasn't exactly the normal mistress type, but rather someone with a lot of feeling for pacing, temptation and teasing, instead of just masochism or sadism.
An admirable adventure.
She was remarkably beautiful, actually. Her body was well toned, smooth and firmly curved. It wasn't too slim, but it was the kind of curves that a lot of women would wish they had. Her clothes were impressive as well, chosen to accentuate what she had and hint beyond. It wasn't often that a skirt could look so strong without giving the wrong impression, but she managed. Even her simple cotton top had a nice pattern and some interesting details. But all of that was nothing compared to her eyes. She spoke with her eyes, the minutest movement giving directions, intonations and meaning to the moment. Emerald green with a hint of brown near the pupil, dreamlike yet real.
I gladly served her.
It was bewildering how easy it was for me to do this, to give out control for a moment, even though I was still fully accepting the situation. The first strange thing was that she asked, ordered me, in gentle words to kiss and lick her feet. It came naturally, having been on the receiving end a few times, working willingly to please her. Her feet were, for lack of a better description, dainty. It took some time for my movements to match her sensitivity, for my tongue, my lips and my fingers to find those perfect places that can make shivers go down and up spines with but a brush.
Her sweet subtle sighs stipulated success.
By her command, my attention moved up, towards her calves and shins, exploring further with tongue and lips. My hands were no longer allowed to touch, but she helpfully pulled any cloth out of the way making things easier for my adorations. I wasn't sure if she was wearing a perfume or not. The smells of her body were subtle and sweet, so much, in fact, that it only made me desire it more. Before I was allowed to continue with her knees or past, my clothes had to go. With minimal effort but a bit of show, they soon glided off my body until every piece of my skin was exposed to her. The following feeling of voluntary vulnerability was warmly welcomed.
She removed some of her clothes but left her skirt. It was tantalizing to know that beneath that she was naked like me, and that I would be admitted access to it soon. Her hands were next; smooth, supple fingers that seemed to tease the traces of my tongue. Moving away at times, my lips chasing cravingly after them. Then her wrist, strangely sensitive on the inside, towards the muscles all along her lower arms. She used only the simplest of words to direct me, none of them sounding forceful or mean, but they had a powerful effect nevertheless. Urged onwards by both my own lustful fascination and another command, my tongue twisted teasingly over her shoulders, going further up.
And we kissed.
Kisses are important, they are a connection unlike most of the body. They are conscious, intense and wonderful when done right. Most men were not allowed to kiss me unless they truly managed to woo me. Women had more emotion behind a kiss most of the time, therefore more chance to taste me as well. Usually it was me leading the kiss, enjoying the taste of the other person with delight but from a higher position. This kiss was very much the other way around. Though I still chose to serve, feeling the freedom and satisfaction it brought for me for only a fleeting moment, it was my choice. My lips had moved on hers, but she was the one kissing me. Her tongue guiding, her lips feeling, her hands pushing me closer. It was a wild, lustful kiss, yet soft in a smooth way. She released me, the kiss faded.
Our eyes, open and connected.
One word was again enough to guide me to the next step. Her breasts, perky and welcome. The shape of them traced thirstily by my lips and tongue, teasing in a lazy spiral towards her nipples. They weren't large, but didn't need to be, their sensitivity spoke for themselves. Gasps gave the signal to continue, moans the means to improve. It was terribly tempting to allow my hands to wander under her skirt, to give her so much more pleasure. But the pace was not mine to set. Her body enjoyed the deep sensations my mouth gave her, reflected in the stiffness of her nipples, the sound of her heart and, of course, her voice.
It took me a full two seconds to realize that I had been given a new command. A little disappointed and confused, I looked up at her and got the order to stand, legs spread, arms relaxed and perfectly still no matter what. Dazed, I did as she directed, curiously following her movements until she gave me no more permission to look. All from that point was just the sounds and sensations of her fingertips roaming my skin. Every part of me was judged, I felt, as her hands grabbed my breasts to feel their shape, my face traced, my hair combed, my bottom squeezed. While any other time it would have felt strange, silly or even annoying, it felt like a test. A good test. She didn't speak but just moved all over. Even my feet were inspected on almost all sides, only the floor preventing the last.
Then the touches changed.
Her fingers flowed naturally over my skin, moving in a more erotic pattern. Swirling softly over my own curves, teasing my nipples in passing, avoiding the Venus-hill but still making me feel touched. Standing perfectly still with my legs spread, as per her demand, made me feel oddly diminished. It was definitely something I was going to remember either way. Another part of me felt worried that her caresses would make me so wet that I'd drip on the floor, despite experience to the contrary. My body responded rather heartily to her torment, moans escaping my lips, shivers down my back making it difficult to stand still. But I had to, every movement was answered with a different stillness. The absence of her fingers.
I was completely unprepared for what came next.