‘I know I’m not old enough to be going through a midlife crisis, or am I?’ I
mentally queried myself as I packed up my stuff in preparation for yet another move.
Counting the time I moved out of my matrimonial home after my brief marriage to Gene
collapsed, this would be the third time I was moving within two years.
In the beginning I had it all, and then suddenly it wasn’t enough anymore. Deep
inside of me I yearned for something more, there was just one problem; I didn’t quite know
what I was yearning for.
Initially I thought I might be living a lie, sort of hiding behind my bi-sexuality
to remain in denial of a possible underlying lesbian persona; and so despite my enjoyment
of sex and romance with Gene, I sought out women. I needed to see if making love with
other women exclusively would clarify matters, sadly it didn’t.
At a point I thought perhaps my confusion had something to do with the people that
I was with, but the truth is my husband was a very nice and caring man, who suffered
gravely as a result of my uncertainty. My secret female lovers were also very sweet and
loving; it wasn’t about them either, whatever the problem was it was about me.
For two years I stumbled about in the frustrating darkness of my ignorance while
making the most of my bisexual lifestyle, and then out of the blue it all became clear.
The trigger of course was a tall sexy stranger with whom I shared an elevator ride.
She was a strikingly pretty and self confident woman, about 5’10” tall and appeared
to be in her late twenties. Her shoulder-length light brown hair and a perfect, womanly
figure portrayed her as an irresistible temptress; given the scantiness of her obvious
designer outfit I could not but ogle her nicely rounded hips, flat stomach, and ample
breasts.
“Seen anything you like?” Her sexy taunting voice snapped me out of my day dream;
my cheeks turned red with embarrassment at being caught ogling her gorgeous body. “Um... I
ah... didn’t mean to stare.” I fumbled for an acceptable explanation.
“I asked you a question! Now will you answer it or do I have to make you!” she said
quite sternly. The severity of her tone seemed to bypass all the usual channels and reach
somewhere so deep in my consciousness that I never realized existed. I looked up at her
beautiful face for an instant, seeking evidence of humor; ‘surely she had to be joking!’ I
thought. She was dead serious, her resolution framed in the almost flimsy yet very serious
expression on her face.
“Yes!” My mouth seemed to have opened of its own volition and I could not believe
the sound of my own voice as I whimpered and answered her question. I couldn’t believe
that a total stranger had the power to practically bully me in my own office building, but
it turned me on like nothing I’d experienced up to that point.
“You’re such a naughty little slut ogling my ass and tits like that, and you must
be punished.” She said in a less severe but still stern tone.
“I’m… sorry ma’am!” My shaky whimpering voice betrayed me yet again.
“You’re sorry!” she smirked at my words with such sarcasm and contempt. “Being
sorry doesn’t let you off the hook; you must learn to take responsibility for your
actions. Now turn around!” she ordered in a voice that was down almost to a whisper,
however the force behind it brooked no dissent.
I immediately turned around lest I incurred her wrath, whatever that may be. Hardly
had I finished turning around than I felt a stinging blow on my ass, and before I could
react to the blow and turn around, she struck again, spanking my sore ass even harder. An
instantaneous rush of excitement coursed through my body and I felt my nipples harden and
my pussy moisten as the stinging pain in my ass mixed with the pleasure of my sexual
arousal into a potent sensual cocktail that left me both breathless and needy.
When I looked up at her face again, she had a passive almost bored expression. Just
then the bell tolled and the elevator doors opened, ‘Damn!’ I thought. I hadn’t even
realized the elevator had come to a stop. Just before she walked off towards the exit, she
handed me her card, and simply said. “Call me, let’s do dinner.” The words she used could
be interpreted as a request, but her tone of voice suggested otherwise. I knew
instinctively that I had to be there or there would be consequences.
It was my last working week before my terminal vacation as I was changing jobs. For
the rest of the afternoon I could not concentrate, my head was filled with very erotic
visions of myself in her presence. It scared me to think that I was willing to go along
with whatever she demanded. The mere thought of giving another person such power over me
was simply terrifying. Out of a desperate desire to maintain my sanity, I logged on to the
web and found an erotic story I had skimmed over before but didn’t quite get into.
Reading the story with deeper concentration this time around made the scales fall
away from my eyes. It was about a woman who quite reluctantly submitted herself to the
control of another who commanded and totally dominated her. Her prize of course was that
her mistress always somehow gave her even more pleasure than she desired in return.
“Mmmmm!” I thought out loud as it finally dawned on me that I have always been a
submissive seeking a Dom to take control of me and focus my sexuality towards the trading
of kinky pleasure.
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