“I want to watch you make my wife your slave!”

Well, sure, I thought. An ad in iambic pentameter, no less. I’ll be right over.

Personals can be fascinating. After scanning them for a while, a reasonably knowledgeable reader develops a keenly-honed sense of whether an ad was posted by a clueless wannabe, pathetically exercising fantasy dreams behind the anonymity of a keyboard, or a sincere, often lonely, occasionally desperate individual. Some personals are transparent frauds, like those put up by men masquerading as women in an attempt to attract wank-off email. Others don’t ring quite true in a more subtle fashion. This isn’t cynicism; it’s discernment.

Nevertheless, I’m always looking for people who share, or think they might like to share, my particular kink. Sometimes I find people with compatible interests who just want to correspond. A much smaller number are willing to at least consider the possibility of a real-time meeting. It’s a much more complex winnowing process than merely finding a needle in a haystack, which is the metaphoric equivalent of an initial cyber-contact; that’s often the easy part. The hard part is matching up well with another person’s likes and dislikes, tastes and preferences, levels and limits, yin and yang.

In the kinky world of erotic power exchange, slavery is not what vanilla people conjure up as a vision of the ante bellum South. For those who enjoy erotic dominance and submission in an adult, responsible way, slavery is a voluntary, usually temporary, condition within the carefully bounded realm of fantasy-brought-to-life.

Beyond its provocative headline, this personal’s content conveyed statistics but no substantive insights. It read more like a swinger ad than anything else, listing ages (early forties), heights, weights, and hair and eye colors. There was no hard information regarding what the poster really had in mind, but as one of my favorite fairy-tale characters might have said, “Before you meet the handsome prince, you’ve got to kiss a lot of toads.” After mulling it over for a couple of days, I decided I was willing to invest some time in trying to find out who and what was lurking behind this intriguing ad.

I wrote an honest response and sent it off to the poster, who called himself Sam. While I’m cautious enough to not give my last name when writing to a total stranger, I always, to the extent that I reveal myself, tell the truth. My ultimate goal is to eventually meet compatible kindred spirits in the flesh, so to speak, so there’s no point in wasting time, mine or anyone else’s, by hiding behind an electronic facade. I told him my age, some other physical parameters, and a bit about my scene experience, which was pretty extensive for a guy in his late thirties, and I made it clear that I was happy in my long-term relationship and was corresponding with my submissive’s knowledge.

In the days when personal ads appeared in magazines and snail-mail was the only way to communicate, the pace was much slower. Thanks to the miracle of the Internet, I got a reply to my message after just a few hours, and Sam’s response was a mixed bag of good and not-so-good news. My age was no problem, he said. They had, he admitted, some limited swinging experience, and this was a yellow flag to me. To a swinger, the phrase head game means a blow-job contest, and sex is the cake, the reason for people getting together. Dominance and submission is a head game of a different sort, and the play is psychological at least as much as physical; it’s a game in which the mind, the most powerful sex organ, is the most significant factor. For most of the D/s people I knew, sex was the frosting on the cake, not the cake itself, and quite often sex, depending on one’s definition of it, wasn’t even part of the game.

But, Sam’s message continued, they wanted to explore his wife’s submissiveness and didn’t know how to go about it. They’d experimented a couple of times with spanking, and she’d liked being on the receiving end. What he said he wanted was to watch another man take control of his wife and have her serve that man sexually.

Well, that’s what he wants, I mused. I wonder what she wants. Men often confuse sexual willingness with submissiveness, especially when it’s a willingness to take on sexual partners outside of a committed relationship, and a few mild swats on the ass are a lot different from serious BDSM play. Her purported willingness to spread her legs might be nothing more than a desire for variety or an indication that he wasn’t paying her enough of the right kind of attention. I also got the distinct impression, both from what he wrote and the way he phrased it, that he was more interested in indulging his own voyeuristic streak than in learning anything about the dynamics of erotic power exchange.

I replied again, extending the dialogue and probing to either validate or alleviate my concerns. In his next message, Sam told me that his wife, Ellie, had been reading all the correspondence between us and that was sufficient for her to be comfortable with what we were discussing. They understood the points I was making, he wrote, and they were sincerely interested in arranging a D/s-oriented session of the kind I had described.

At the bottom of his message was a note from his wife.

Dear Sir,

I appreciate your concern over whether this is something I really want to do. Please believe me when I say I’m convinced, from what you’ve written, that you know what you’re doing, and I’m anxious to submit myself to your control. I acknowledge that you’ll punish me if I fail to obey your commands, and I think I’m ready for that. I’ll try my best to satisfy you in any and every way you desire, and I’m confident you’ll make this a mutually pleasurable experience. I hope the attached image whets your dominant and sexual appetites for our meeting.

Yours,

Ellie

Well, that seems plain enough, I thought, and then I double-clicked to open the attachment and the shit hit the fan. Sam and I had started discussing Ellie’s costuming for the scene; she has a blonde wig, he’d informed me, and he especially enjoyed seeing her dressed as a sleazy slut. As Ellie’s image appeared on my monitor, I saw an undeniably attractive body, but, despite the wig, I knew instantly that I was looking at a nude picture of my neighbor up the block.

*

After the shock wave passed and my head stopped spinning, I tried to analyze the situation rationally. The image she’d sent was the first time I’d ever seen my neighbor show more skin than wearing a conservative one-piece bathing suit, much less naked. Objectively, as I already knew, her face was pleasant-looking but not really pretty. Her body, though, now that I had the opportunity to see it, showed that she’d kept herself in good shape, slim but with nice curves in all the right places. I couldn’t recall having had any fantasies involving her, but, now that the possibility had arisen, the idea of playing with her wasn’t totally repugnant either. The more I thought about it, the more the idea of going ahead with the scene Sam and I had been discussing became a turn-on. Embarrassment or verbal humiliation is exciting to a lot of submissives, I told myself; let’s find out if Ellie’s in that category.

I received that message on a Tuesday, and I made a reservation at a local Embassy Suites for Saturday evening. Then I sent a response to Sam with very specific instructions for both him and Ellie, including complete sexual abstinence for her from the moment they read my reply.

*

Late Saturday afternoon I shaved, showered, dressed, and drove to the hotel. I checked in and went upstairs, then wrote my suite number on a slip of paper and put it in an envelope with Ellie’s name on the outside. I took the envelope down to the front desk, then went back upstairs to wait.

The rooms in the hotel faced into an enclosed atrium. I pushed the window curtain partly aside and watched as Ellie approached the front desk and obtained the envelope I’d prepared a half-hour earlier. She opened it, glanced inside briefly, and turned toward the elevators with Sam trailing along behind her. I opened the room’s outer door, leaving it slightly ajar so they could enter, and went into the other half of the suite, closing the bedroom door to invisibly await their arrival.

When I heard the outer door being closed, bolted, and chained, I gave them another full minute to assume their respective positions. Then I opened the bedroom door and looked around. Sam was sitting in an armchair; his eyes opened wide in a double-take of startled recognition, and as he opened his mouth to speak I quickly raised a finger to my lips in the universal signal for silence. He shook his head in shocked disbelief, then shrugged and nodded in silent acceptance.

Ellie was standing exactly as I’d ordered. I’d told them to leave the blonde wig at home, and her dark hair swirled around the back of her head. Her arms were straight out in front of her at shoulder height, hands flat against the door into the suite, and she was leaning slightly forward to put the weight of her upper body on her hands. Her feet were spread apart, and the back hem of her skirt was tucked into the waistband.

I took my time, savoring the moment and anticipating the shock I was about to deliver. My eyes scanned slowly up from her spike-heeled ankle boots, past shapely bare calves and smoothly-muscled thighs to the equally-bare, firmly-rounded globes of her ass. From her tan lines, it appeared that Ellie sunbathed wearing only a thong.

I strode soundlessly up behind her and reached my right hand around her body. Her blouse, as instructed, was unbuttoned to the waist; also as instructed, she was not wearing a bra. I slipped my hand inside the blouse and cupped her warm, conical left breast, and a soft gasp escaped her lips as my palm slid over her already-erect nipple. I slid a fingertip all around the puffy areola and her breathing got deeper when I flicked a nail against the stiff little nubbin at its tip. She stood quietly, having been told not to move except as directed and to speak only when asked a question or otherwise given permission.

I brought my other hand up to lightly stroke her ass cheeks, feeling and enjoying the heat radiating from her soft skin. Then I slid that hand down her crack and between her legs to explore her lower lips. She was already more than moist; her juices were practically dripping down her legs, and she let out a low moan when I slipped a finger up through her pussy and bumped it against her swollen clitoris. I took her nipple gently between my thumb and forefinger, then bent my head down and whispered into her ear.

“When did you start shaving your pussy, Ellie?”

I felt the shocked reaction ripple through her. Despite my emailed instructions, she started to turn, but I’d expected her to move when she recognized my voice. I pinched her nipple, hard, and kept my hand still as she tried to pull away. Then she froze in place, her hands still on the door and the tension between my fingers and her slightly-twisted torso pulling her nipple out from her breast.

“M … M… Michael, is that you?” Her voice was querulous, and I could feel her shaking from the combination of sudden uncertainty and embarrassment.

“Yes, neighbor,” I drawled. “I never knew you were this way, and what a wonderful surprise it is.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I’m so embarrassed that you found out about me, about us …”

Her face was flushed now, but I also noted two other relevant facts. She hadn’t twisted her body back to relieve the strain on her nipple and her pussy was even wetter than before.

“Well, I have,” I said, “and I intend to take full advantage of that information.” I flicked my finger against her clit and her hips bucked involuntarily. She may have been embarrassed, but she was also still very aroused. I decided to press lightly on the humiliation button.

“You sure seem to be enjoying this, neighbor dear,” I sneered. “You must be quite a slut.”

“No, Michael, it’s not like that at all,” she objected. “I told you I wanted to be controlled. I didn’t know it was you I was sending the message to, but you’ve taken control of me, just as I wanted. I thought it would turn me on, just thinking about it the last few days has kept me sopping wet, and now that it’s happening I can’t believe how ready I am for whatever you want of me.”

“Even though I’m your neighbor?” I had to get it out on the table.

“Yes, even so … I’ve never thought of you this way, Michael, truly I haven’t, but that makes what I want even more deliciously forbidden, and the idea that you want me is as flattering as it is embarrassing.”

I glanced over at Sam, who’d been sitting quietly and observing the proceedings. “Is this what you wanted to see?” I asked him.

“Absolutely,” he replied firmly. “I didn’t know it’d be you, of course, but Ellie told me she thought she’d react this way to a dominant man, and I’m hoping to learn how to do what you’re doing.”

“Well, let’s see where we go from here,” I told him, then switched to my command voice. “How high are the heels on those boots you’re wearing, Ellie?”

She hesitated, then mumbled, “Th ree inches.”

I let her continued lack of respectful address pass for the moment. “What were my instructions?”

“Not less than four inches,” she whispered. “But those are the highest heels I have, and …”

“You had time to find other shoes,” I told her harshly. “Did you surf the web looking for some?”

“No.”

I pinched even harder on her nipple, digging my thumbnail into its base and twisting it as well. “No, what?”

“Ow, please, oh, God, I’m sorry, I meant to say, no, Sir, Michael, Sir, please don’t hurt me,” she wailed, her voice rising as the pain hit.

I eased the pressure on her nipple a tiny bit. “You should have thought of that when you had the chance to avoid it,” I told her. “Now stand still and keep quiet, or I’ll have to gag you.”

“Yes, Sir,” she responded, and there was definite respect in her voice now. I switched my grasp from the left nipple to her right and took my sticky other hand from between her legs. Then I brought it back, cupped my hand to increase the sting, and gave her a smart spank on her left ass cheek. She sucked in her breath, making a quiet air-rushing sound, but otherwise didn’t move. I repeated my motion, landing an equally sharp smack on her right buttock, then continued, alternating sides, in a steady rhythm.

Ellie’s breathing became heavier as her ass first turned bright pink and then got redder and redder. She was biting her lower lip to keep from crying out, but she took her punishment like a trouper. I didn’t have to pinch her nipple to restrain her, and she never made any sound louder than a soft whimper. After about forty swats I stopped spanking and moved my hand in a slow stroking motion across her flaming red, and flaming hot, butt cheeks.

“Ahhh, Sir, that feels so good,” she crooned.

I released her nipple and slid that hand down across her flat belly to her slit. Her pussy was literally seeping juices; I looked down to see a small puddle on the carpet between her feet. I swiped a finger up between her lower lips and rested it lightly on her clit, and she shivered in reaction; she was right on the edge of coming.

“Oh, God, please, Sir, I was good like you told me, it’s been a long time and I’m so horny,” she whispered. “Please, Sir, let me come for you.”

I turned my head to address Sam again. “I’ve known her a while, Sam, but this is one facet of her I never knew, so I’m curious; how’s my neighbor in bed?”

Sam snorted, then chuckled. “Actually, she’s pretty good when she makes the effort,” he replied. He was smiling, but there was some acid behind his words. I asked him some specific questions, and his answers were mostly less than flattering. I stopped stroking her behind, put that arm around her waist to hold her in position, and used my fingers on her clit to keep Ellie right on the edge. She started squirming, in a combination of frustration and humiliation, as Sam and I discussed his perceptions of her sexual appetites, capacities, and capabilities as though she wasn’t present. Eventually, I brought the discussion to closure.

“So, Sam,” I concluded, “you think she could use some training along those lines?”

“I don’t know whether it’s training she needs or motivation,” he replied.

“Well, dominating her seems to establish motivation, so let’s see if that’s all that was missing. Drop your pants and let’s find out.” I took my hand away from Ellie’s pussy and she groaned when my fingers left her clit. Sam stood up long enough to lower his pants and undershorts around his ankles, exposing a rather impressive erection, and as he reseated himself I told Ellie to put her hands on the arms of Sam’s chair. She did so, then looked back over her shoulder at me from her bent-over position.

“You have five minutes to suck him off, Ellie. Keep your hands where they are and use only your mouth.”

“But–”

“No buts,” I interrupted, overriding her protest before it got started. “He ought to be pretty close to popping after watching what we’ve been doing. If you haven’t succeeded in that length of time, I’ll start whipping your already-sore ass and you’ll find out how good a gag a hard cock makes. Now get to work!”

Ellie turned back to face her husband’s crotch and immediately showed that motivation, rather than training, was the critical success factor; she swallowed Sam to the hilt in a single motion and I could see her throat muscles working him over as she moved her head up and down at a steady pace. Her lips tightened to create suction on the up-strokes and loosened to drool saliva down his shaft when she moved downward to deep-throat him again. All the while, her tongue was slithering back and forth along the big vein on the underside of his cock.

“Oh, God, that’s good,” Sam muttered. “You’ve never done this well before, Ellie, but from now on …”

Ellie stopped at the top of a stroke and looked him in the eye. “Only if you make me,” she challenged, then resumed her efforts.

I looked at my watch. “One minute left,” I announced, and Ellie worked even harder. She started to move her hands off the chair arms, then remembered my orders and kept them in place.

I wouldn’t have thought it possible, five minutes isn’t really very long, but suddenly Sam was saying, “Oh, boy, here it comes!” and it was time for me to get more actively into the scene. I dropped my own pants and, just as Sam yelled, “Yaaahooo,” I stroked my own erection deep into Ellie’s steaming pussy from the rear. She slammed her still-warm butt backwards into me and came hard, her body twitching and shaking and her pussy muscles locking down on my cock just as Sam shot a load into her sucking mouth. I watched her swallow and then raise her head, gasping for breath as her orgasm swept through her, only to get blasted in the face by Sam’s next spurt.

Her pussy muscles relaxed, and I slid out of her and moved myself upward. I took myself in hand long enough to get positioned and then buried my cock, thoroughly lubricated by her pussy juices, up into her tight back door. Ellie squealed once at the invasion, but this obviously wasn’t the first time she’d been butt-fucked; she started moving with me, banging her ass into my groin each time I slid into her. I reached around and began roughly fingering her clit with one hand and pinching her nipples hard with the other, and she wailed like a banshee and came even stronger than before. Her muscles seized and she screamed incoherently, then started to come like crazy, a thundering spasm of exquisitely violent sensation.

I stopped moving, overtaken by the high of having instigated such overwhelming rapture. Sam had his hands up now, supporting Ellie’s shoulders, because her arms were unable to hold her up. Her heart was pounding and her breathing racing as she chanted, “More, more, please, more,” over and over until she finally wound down from that incredible peak.

I let my softening erection slide slowly out of her rear passage, and I fully expected her to simply collapse onto the floor to rest and recover some strength. I sensed that I’d pushed Ellie to a new level of erotic sensation, a plateau she’d never before reached, and I was more than satisfied with how the scene had gone. I hadn’t come, but I was satiated in a way that’s difficult to express.

Ellie, however, had other ideas. She dropped to her knees, but then she turned and took my semi-rigid cock into her hands, restoring its stiffness with remarkable speed. She grasped the base of my erection with one hand and cupped my balls in the palm of her other hand, then looked up into my eyes. “Please, Sir, bathe me with your cum,” she whispered.

I nodded my head, unable to speak, and she resumed her talented ministrations. Within a couple of minutes I was very close, and I reached down to touch her wrist. She immediately stopped what she was doing and I took over, masturbating myself for the final few strokes.

“Oh, damn!” I grunted as I let loose my first thick streamer of cum onto Ellie’s face, adding to the dried remains of Sam’s load on her cheeks. She had closed her eyes and opened her mouth, waiting on her knees for me to guide some warm semen to her. I thrust my hips and squeezed my pulsating cock to milk several more squirts at my target, managing to land a fair percentage onto her lips and tongue.

“Open your eyes, Ellie,” I commanded, and she did, watching me slowly take a step backwards with a small glob of cum hanging from the head of my cock. I looked at the streams running across her face and into her hair and the puddle of my cum resting in her still-open mouth. Then I motioned, and she leaned forward and stuck out her cum-coated tongue to take the glob before it could fall to the carpet.

“Well, Sam, what do you think?”

“I think you motivated her just fine, Michael, and she looks fabulous. This whole scene was really awesome!”

It truly was an incredible sight, cum splashed all over Ellie’s face, mixed with beads of perspiration in the valley between her firm, pointy breasts, and dripping from the tips of her still-stiff nipples. Ellie used her tongue to swish the cum around in her mouth, letting a small amount dribble over her lips and then taking a big gulp to swallow the rest.

“Mmm, mmm, good, Sir,” my neighbor said with a wide smile. “You can take control of me whenever you want.”

Copyright 1999 by Left Side Signals