A Classified

The women I find most attractive invariably make me function as their submissive. That's the way it is, don't ask why. If you need word pictures, here they are: I'm naked and on my knees before them, I perform humiliating chores at their command, I suffer punishment at their hands, I lick and kiss their footwear (and their feet) and whatever else they want licked, I suck their high heels, I wear what they put on me; dog collars, shackles, chains, hoods, gags, harnesses. I'm regularly bound and beaten, made to eat and drink from a dish on the floor and I masturbate where and when I'm told, eating my cum at their command.

The woman who had been my Mistress, 35-year-old Sandi, had been transferred by her employer to another part of the country. I'd been without her special attentions for over six months and was getting anxious. The extraordinary yearning to serve and submit - beyond telephone training - was overpowering. In conversation, I begged Mistress Sandi for release and for her permission to begin the search for a new Domina.

From the practical point of view, she said she had to agree but also said I must continue to report to her. I thanked her as best I could, hung up and began formulating my strategies for the attack (Yes, it most definitely is an "attack" mode. If you want something bad enough you've got to be prepared to go after it aggressively, regardless of your nature.)

It occurred to me that with my large house, which included a vacant and self-contained apartment with a private entrance, that there might be an opportunity. Now, how would I attract that special someone?

A slogan, "It Pays To Advertise," registered. But the chance of getting a nonprofessional Domina to respond to a run of the mill classified ad was slim. I put some extra thinking into what I wanted to say before buying a brief and to the point ad. The next issue of our local underground paper included this copy:

Handsome Executive who travels has large midtown house to share with Dominant Female. Your own apt. No charge. Privacy. Must want to own/train a slave. Box 208.

Now, if you use a publication to advertise, don't expect instant gratification. Fact is, it took about two weeks before the mail brought four responses. The first letter was from 21-year-old Linda, a university student who wrote that she'd had minor experience as a Dominant and wanted to take the opportunity I offered to explore her proclivity further. She said she had dominated a boyfriend by using his belt to whip him and had forced him to eat her.

"It really wasn't very much," she said, "but it showed me what my life could be like."

Her letter was first in the keeper pile.

The second was from 27-year-old Jane, a clerk who said she needed free accommodation and wanted a slave. She said she was aggressive with men, had read plenty about Female Domination, but never had the chance to actually go to the limits she wanted with the guys she'd dated. If she met me, she promised, she'd put into practice what only her imagination had allowed so far.

Letter number two went onto the keeper side.

The third was from someone who wanted to keep house. Hers became letter number one for the round file.

And, the last was from a community college student. Stacy said she was in her late 20s and had gone back to school to study business. She wrote that her ex-husband had introduced her to fetish fantasy/Female Domination and that their practice of this lifestyle had escalated during the years of their marriage. By the end, she said, they'd progressed to the point of his being her complete sex slave. Her only concession to his sexual need, she admitted, was "to always make myself desirable by wearing erotic lingerie or leather, ensuring my make-up and hair was perfect, and by wearing high heels."

Stacy explained that her ex was more into sensuous domination and foot worship than hard core S/M. When she whipped him, she wrote, "it was more voluptuous than cruel. Make no mistake, though. He suffered for me and was glad to do it."

Guess where Stacy's letter went.

I waited a few more days but there were no further responses. ("Alas," I hear the reader cry. "You got three good ones. What are you, greedy?") It was time to begin setting up appointments. Because there were more than one, and because I could choose only one, I decided the initial meetings would have to be in a private yet neutral setting. My reasoning included the fact that two people (maybe all three!) might be upset about not being chosen and, if they were so inclined, could do some heavy personal and property damage if they knew where I lived.

I booked a hotel the following week, then began making appointments. During each call, I explained there was more than one lady being interviewed and that, for security reasons - for them and for me - meeting in a public place was best for our first get-together. I gave them their choice of times -- at two or five in the afternoon or at eight o'clock that night. Coincidentally, the order of the appointments was the same as the mail, Linda first, then Jane, and Stacy coming in during the evening.

The next Wednesday, I checked into the downtown HoJo at noon. Since I planned on staying there overnight, I brought a change of clothing and, of course, some toys.

The room's layout was impressive. It was a corner suite, one wall adjoining a fire exit and the other against the soda and ice machines' area. Perfect for a modicum of privacy.

At 1:50, room service delivered a fresh pot of coffee.

At two, Linda knocked on my door. I greeted her politely, took her overcoat, hung it up, turned around and was pleased to be confronted by a shapely young beauty standing all of 5'4" in her spike heels. She wore a clinging off-white sweater (revealing a black bra beneath) and a tight, black skirt. I escorted her into the room and offered a chair by the coffee table. Sitting and crossing her legs, her skirt rode high to expose nylon tops. I poured the coffee and engaged Linda in a bit of introductory small talk before getting to the heart of the matter. "I have your letter responding to my ad but, just to broaden it a bit, would you mind giving me your understanding of why you're here?"

"Simple," she said. "I want to live near the university. I want it on the terms specified in your ad and I want a slave."

Linda's forthrightness took me aback. Perhaps it was because, notwithstanding her obvious choice of erotic undergarments, she looked so young and innocent. Recovering and pressing on, I said, "In your letter you made reference to dominating an old boyfriend and making him perform oral sex. Has that been your only experience with Female Domination?"

She said that it had. I asked how that particular scene had come about. Linda said it happened earlier that year. Her date for the evening, a fellow she'd recently met, had taken her to a formal dance. Both, she said, had been dressed to the nines, he in a tuxedo and she in a black evening gown. Linda explained that before she got dressed that evening she felt she wanted to be particularly feminine for her grand night out. It was, she said, only her third date with the guy and she felt their romance was heating up. Too, it wasn't often she was invited to a formal affair. She bathed and applied scrupulous care to the grooming of her hair and to the application of make-up before donning her most exotic lingerie. Both had enjoyed the evening, she said, particularly the stimulating slow dancing and the progressive building of mutual lust. Once they returned to her small, off-campus apartment they were all over each other, "necking and into heavy petting". It didn't take long until her gown was off and Linda was dressed only in her black, push-up bra, black panties, stockings and stiletto heels. At first, she said, her bra remained fastened as he kissed and nibbled on the exposed upper portions of her breasts. While he was doing that, Linda said, she'd opened his fly, pulled his member out and was stroking and caressing it.

"He was really turned on," she said. "And I loved feeling his cock pulse in my hand." Gradually, he slipped from the couch to his knees before her on the floor, telling her how beautiful she was and how he wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her body. "And that's when he bent his head and began licking my shoes and feet." I asked how she felt about that.

"Because it was so different, at first I didn't know what to feel. But we were both so turned on it didn't seem to matter. I relaxed and enjoyed myself. It was obvious he was really into it. His whole body was shaking. And I loved the feeling of power ... looking down at this macho guy on his knees actually kissing and licking my shoes. What a feeling! He kept at it, getting more and more ardent. His tongue was working my feet and shoes in deep, deep passion. The man was worshiping me, making me feel like a goddess! His cock was out of my reach, but I saw it standing tall, all wet around that little hole at the top. By then, he was panting. He stopped kissing and licking my shoes long enough to take the belt from his pant loops and hand it to me. Then he took down his trousers and briefs before again getting back on the floor for more foot worship. I just leaned back, crossed my leg and held his belt at the end with the buckle on it."

"Then what happened? I asked.

"He begged me to use the belt on his backside. He wanted me to whip him! I wasn't born yesterday. I'd heard of people making 'whip me, beat me' jokes and I knew jokes often weren't jokes at all. Besides, I'd read enough in Cosmo to know a lot of men are into Female Domination and fetishistic behavior. I took the belt, doubled it over and clenched it like I intended to go ahead and punish him. But the thing was so new to me that I asked him why he wanted a whipping. He said he felt so under my spell, so taken with me and my beauty, so slave-like, that he wanted me to reinforce those feelings by disciplining him."

"And you did?"

"Yes. After a moment of thinking about it and how much I enjoyed seeing him so servile I decided if that was what he wanted - and I knew I wanted to do it - then I would. I didn't hit him very hard, though. It was more of a symbolic whipping than anything else. He kept licking my shoes and sucking the high heel as I beat his butt. It made me ultra horny. I raised a welt or two before giving him his first order, to pull down my panties with his teeth and to get his tongue to work on my clit. That was essentially it."

I asked Linda if she reached orgasm during her first experience with domination.

Oh, yes. It was an earth mover, too," she responded.

"Did you allow him to cum?"

"Yes, but I did it the way I used to when I teased my dates in high school. I used both hands, cupping and squeezing his balls while I jerked him off with the other hand. I could feel him starting to cum and, at the precise moment before he did, I took my hand away from his cock and kept rolling his balls in my palm. He was fucking air as he came all over himself."

"Did you ever see him again?"

"No. After he came he seemed to detach himself from what happened. II think he was too embarrassed to call me after that. Too bad, actually. I really enjoyed it and wanted to play with him some more."

"That sounded exciting for you," I said. "But are you sure you understand the sexual nature of it all? The psychology? After all, you're still quite young."

Linda replied, "I may be young but I think I have the physical and mental goodies to keep you in your place." Even as she made the declaration, she arched her body to show her spectacular shape - her breasts in the black bra straining against the sweater - giving me at the same time a view of her stocking tops and white thighs. "While that one encounter didn't give me a chance to fully explore Female Domination it did awaken my interest. I have a broad imagination and if you become my slave you'll be performing in lots of interesting and varied ways."

I'd earlier put my bondage equipment out of sight in the top drawer of the dresser. Standing and leading her to it, I took the handles and pulled it open, revealing the whip, shackles, collar, leash, dildo gag and connecting clasps. "Would you be comfortable using this kind of specialty gear to handle a man?" I asked.

Looking for just a moment, Linda picked up the collar and said, "Here, let me slip this around your neck." Buckling it tightly, she got the leash and attached it to the collar's D-ring. She looped the end of the leash over her wrist and said, "Now, slave, you've been collared and leashed by a young woman who's more into this than you might have thought. I fully intend being one hell of a Dominatrix."

I gave her a patronizing smile as we went back to the table, she holding the leash in her pretty hand. As I moved to sit and finish my coffee, Linda, more assertive than she'd been up to now, said, "When you're wearing a collar around your neck and I'm holding the leash attached to it, you don't sit, you kneel."

Complying, I responded as any good slave would, "Yes, Mistress."

She asked about the house, her privacy, how much I traveled, whether or not she could have friends over on weekends, all the usual questions. When she wanted to know where my home was I hedged and gave only the general neighborhood. I said I hoped she understood that after my new Mistress was chosen I didn't want either of the two other Dominas, or any of their friends, to know where the house is.

She said she understood the logic, "but since I'm the first of three interviews today I want to make sure I leave the right impression on you. First, kiss my shoes then take off all your clothes."

I bent my head and kissed the toe leather of both high heels before disrobing. She sat watching, never letting go of the leash. Naked, I again knelt before her. This wasn't a new experience for me (as you know), being nude and on the end of a leash held by a woman, but to be in the humiliating position with one so young stirred the fires within me.

"Lower your head so your chin touches your chest," she ordered.

I surreptitiously watched as she stood, peeled off her sweater and slipped off the skirt. Linda looked fabulous in her bra, panties, garter belt, stockings and high heels. Her long legs and full breasts were highlighted dramatically in the black lingerie. She got the cat 'o' nine tails and wrist restraints from the drawer and returned to her chair, again sitting and crossing her leg. Putting the leash's grip into my mouth, she had me extend my arms toward her then put the shackles on my wrists.

Mistress Linda sensuously fondled the cat, then ordered, "turn around."

My young Mistress didn't hesitate. She raised the cat and delivered about 20 lashes in a moderately hard, yet slow cadence. Her thrashing was centered on my upper thighs and buttocks. By the time she'd finished, there was no doubt in my mind I'd been whipped. The stinging, yet tingling combination of pain/pleasure affected me deeply.

The cat was in her hand at my lips as she commanded, "Kiss it, slave. Kiss the whip that's been used to beat you and which I plan using on you a great deal in the future."

Obeying, my cock grew from a semi-stiffness to a sturdy erection. Mistress Linda noticed and ordered I suck her high heels and thank her for my whipping. Between sucks of the spiky heels and licks to her insteps, I thanked her as she held the leash taut.

"Since you're going to be seeing two other ladies today I don't want you in peak condition. Take that stiff cock in your hand and focus all your attention on my body: my breasts, legs and shoes. Pull it for me. Harder. Faster. Don't cum until I give permission."

I was already near the point of ejaculation and begged her to let me. Bringing her hand down to my cock, she said, "Do it, slave. Cum in your new Mistress' hand." I exploded, she catching it all. Smiling as I regained a bit of my composure, Mistress Linda brought her cum-drenched hand to my forehead and drew it downward, wiping it all over my face - my eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth and chin. She held her hand to my mouth and commanded I lick it completely clean. Working my tongue on her palm, between her fingers, then sucking entire fingers, I collected and swallowed my cum; her eyes sparkling and her smile never fading.

"Now use your tongue to mop up as much cum from your chin and upper lip as you can."

Mistress Linda watched, presumably making her own assessment of my worth. Seemingly reaching a decision, she released my wrists and said she wanted to hear from me tomorrow. She was avid in her praise of our session, saying she'd enjoyed it immensely and that she was looking forward to making me her slave; to inflicting even more pain and humiliation. I asked, based on her limited experience with domination, how she knew about the rituals of whip kissing, high heel sucking, and all the other dominant subtleties and symbolism she had imposed.

I was surprised to hear her say: "After reading your ad and writing my response, I checked out a few of the others. I found a professional Mistress' phone number, got in touch with her and told her about my situation. She was kind enough to let me watch her do a few sessions. She also coached me on how to handle you. Do you know Mistress Jacqueline from Richmond?"

That explained it. I had seen Mistress Jacqueline a number of times over the years and, it was clear, Mistress Linda had divulged my name to her.

As I helped her on with her coat, she said, "Good-bye, slave. Before I leave, get back down on your knees and kiss both of my shoes. I want you to get used to being in that position when I'm around."

Not a moment after her departure, I headed for the shower to clean up for Jane and to reflect on Mistress Linda. Soaping down entirely and washing the dried cum from my face, I then dressed and headed down to the coffee shop to pick up a sandwich. On the way back I almost tripped over a chambermaid in my rush.

At ten to five, Jane called to say she'd be here by 5:10 and when she arrived she wanted me to be waiting naked and on my knees. Hurriedly, I ate the sandwich and took off my clothes. The welts on my buttocks from Mistress Linda's whipping were still very much in evidence. At 5:15, there were three rapid-fire knocks on my door. Using the peep hole, I made sure it was a woman before getting down on my knees to open it. Jane brushed by and walked to the room's center.

"I'm your Mistress Jane," she announced. "Crawl over here, slave, and greet me properly."

She was short - about five feet - wearing a business suit, black boots, a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Her appearance was every bit what you might expect of a business woman. She had nice long hair and was beautifully made-up, including eye shadow that gave her a foreboding appearance.

On all fours, I approached this little package of dynamite and kissed her boots until she told me to stop. She ordered I stand and take her jacket off. Walking to the closet, I hung it, then returned to the floor and crawled back to her. She'd made herself comfortable in one of the chairs. Seeing the welts on my ass from Mistress Linda's whipping, Jane said, "I see your first appointment went well. What did she use on you?"

"My whip, Mistress."

"Get it, bring it to me, and stay on your hands and knees."

Opening the door, retrieving it and carrying it in my mouth, I crawled back to her. Her hand patted my cheek, then took the whip from my mouth. Lovingly caressing it, she said, "Although I've never actually whipped a man I've read enough to know I'm going to enjoy this. Lie face down on the bed."

My brain went into overtime. Phrases such as "Oh, oh!" came to mind. Nonetheless, I did as she demanded. I heard Mistress Jane remove her blouse and skirt, then move back to my side. Next came the blistering whip; three quick lashes. I screamed.