Mistress

"I haven't domme'd for a while, but I'd love to get back into it."

Wow. Fine. Pick me. She was confident, she kept fit, and she was kinky as hell. She was bisexual too.

"I have a domme friend who I may ask to join in. Would that be ok with you?"

Was she really asking me if that would be ok with me? Holy shit.

The whole bondage, dominance and submission thing is very appealing to me. There's something about being tied up that appeals to everyone, or so goes my theory anyway. She was very into tying up, humiliation, spanking and the whole works. She told me that she'd had a bad experience with her last sub and that's why she'd been out of it for a while. Fair enough - where do we meet?

We met in a pub. I was slightly nervous because she had instructed me to wear no underwear, and hadn't told me why. I found a seat in the corner of the pub that was not only enclosed for privacy, but also had a view of the window so that I could see her come in.

She walked in on time (I was early) and she glided up in her long, leather coat and boots. She told me to stand up.

"My, you are tall aren't you?"

Yes, I was, and she was quite short, but I couldn't see that as a problem since she had the right attitude in abundance. She reached round and rubbed her hand up my arse until she was satisfied that I had no underwear on. "Very good."

We chatted for a while, and drank coffees. My coffee wasn't going down very well and I couldn't be bothered finishing it.

"No, you will finish it"

"Yes Mistress"

I lifted the mug and took a healthy gulp as she laughed.

"I'm just messing with you"

I learned that she had a thing for men dressed up as maids or in PVC and rubber. She also loved boot worship - having a man lick her boots prostrate on the floor before her was a big turn-on for her. I smiled and said that would be wonderful, wondering just what I was getting into. She started to make plans for getting me a maids outfit so that she could take me along to fetish clubs. She even told me the rules - no talking at a club until she spoke to me, and if someone else spoke to me, I had to ask her permission to reply, even if she was at the other side of the club.

We departed, exchanging numbers and made plans for me to visit her at the weekend.

The weekend came and I texted her to ask when she wanted me round. No reply. I texted her again. No reply. My phone at that time was crappy, so I went for a walk to get good reception in case I was missing a text reply. There was none. The day wasted, I gave up waiting and watched TV in a sulk.

Days later she popped up online.

"Sorry. My friend died."

Ah. Understandable. And that put paid to that.

Then she vanished - for a full year.

One day, she popped up on yahoo again. We got chatting and I told her the idea of her being my Mistress still appealed. We made plans again. The only day that suited her was a Wednesday, so I told her I would have to take a sickie from work, which I dutifully did. Food poisoning. Saying the word 'diarrhea' to your boss over the phone usually puts him off asking you any questions.

That morning I texted her. No reply. All day and no reply. I began to have that deja-vu feeling.

The next day she pops up online.

"Sorry. My friend died."

This is a tricky one, because there is still the possibility that the coincidence was true, so you have to be sensitive. I remember crafting a delicately balanced sentence that I was quite proud of that managed to contain polite sympathy, vague annoyance and a reminder of the fact that she'd used that excuse before. I made a joke that we shouldn't talk any more in case someone else died. She laughed.

Since then I have spoken again a few times and there is a pattern. She chats, then conversation moves onto kinky talk, then there are vague ideas and plans, she then promises to contact me and never does. Then there is a gap of some length of time and the process repeats.

She had made me promise that I would call her Mistress and that no other woman would be able to domme me whilst I was in her service. Luckily, I did not keep that promise.