Stephanie and the Boy

Hello again! Sorry for my hiatus, genuinely, but there is more where this came from. This is a little story about submission and (bi)sexuality. I hope you will enjoy. Thank you to LaRascasse and TRCIII for looking this over :). And, as always, all characters in this story are eighteen years old or above. All readers should also be eighteen years or above. -L

Dozens of eyes followed me and with nowhere to hide, I feigned confidence.

Suddenly, it was my first time in public. Certainly, my first time at any place like this. Everywhere I looked were people in various states of nudity. People in latex, people in collars, people in nothing at all. My only prerogative was to avoid making eye contact...with anyone. And in keeping my head high, I focused on looking anywhere but at the people staring lecherously at me.

To be fair, I hadn't been groped or hit on yet, only admired respectfully. Maybe the rules about consent were stricter here due to the nature of

kink--

at least the consensual kink that was promised here--but regardless, I needed to find a seat. And so far, I hadn't seen one. I made my way through the crowd, little by little, before I finally found a wall with booths and tables lining it...occupied tables.

Languidly, I dragged my eyes from table to table, searching in vain for an empty seat. But a seat is not what I found. Seated on one of the couches, I saw the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Even from her seated position, I could tell that she would tower over me. Dark, almost-black hair framed her face, her expression neutral. The woman's jaw was strong, her icy blue gaze even stronger. She was the embodiment of confidence; I couldn't rip my gaze from her.

She was engaged in conversation with two men at the table with her. One was tall and broad with muscle, the other blond and shorter. Aside from myself, he seemed to be the only college-aged individual in the building. I couldn't distinguish their relationship from my vantage point. Perhaps they made a threesome, the older couple as dominants with the blond boy as their submissive.

Whatever they were, they couldn't possibly be interested in me...or so I thought until I noticed the woman's focused gaze, focused on me. No smile was present on her features, only an arched, dark eyebrow and an unreadable expression. We stood for two minutes, watching and waiting. The man to her right tried to speak to her until he noticed what, or who, she was fixated on. Smiling, he took the younger boy by his hand, standing and leading him off to another part of the bar, but not before he patted the woman's shoulder. She smiled at him, telling him something before her gaze turned back to me. She still wouldn't approach me, it seemed, so I approached her.

As I came closer, her eyes didn't move from my form. She watched as I moved, careful not to look up into my eyes until I was directly in front of her. Finally, when I was, she looked up expectantly, her almost-black hair falling to her shoulders.

I cleared my throat, willing my nerves to relax.

"Hi," I began. "I'm Stephanie."

"Hello," the woman spoke simply. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

I froze. She had to have seen me watching her, and I swore I saw her meet my gaze. Her piercing blue eyes burned into mine and I felt myself shiver. My face flushed in embarrassment. "Well, I--"

"Sit," she ordered calmly, gesturing to the seat beside her. I couldn't tell if her lips were curled with amusement or annoyance. "You've never been here, have you, Stephanie?" she questioned, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"No, ma'am," I affirmed, crossing my hands shyly in my lap.

"Sweetie, my name is Natasha. You will refer to me as such until I instruct you otherwise," she spoke softly. I couldn't comprehend how she did it, held so much power as she addressed me normally. If I didn't know better--

and I didn't--

I'd expect that the woman was a police interrogator.

"Yes, Natasha. I'm sorry," I pouted shyly. "My family is Southern."

Then, the woman smiled the most perfect smile I'd ever seen. She laughed a beautiful, full laugh to match. Her white teeth glistened in the dim lighting of the building, as she stroked my hair softly.

"That's fine, dear," she reassured, returning her hand to her lap. "As a dominant, however, I require different respect than you give to everyone else. You probably call everyone

'ma'am'

, don't you?"

I started to nod softly. Her eyes flashed with something and I wasn't sure if nodding was the best idea anymore.

"Rule number one, use your words," she spoke almost as soon as my movement began. It sounded almost too reflexive...as if she had been expecting me to mess up.

"I'm sorry. Yes, Natasha."

"Good," she affirmed. "As I was saying...in my opinion, a dominant should hold more importance than anyone else to their submissive. If you call everyone

'ma'am'

, then I want to be

'Mistress'

. I doubt that you call anyone else

'Mistress'

, do you?"

"No, I don't."

She smiled, "That was a rhetorical question, Stephanie." I blushed and she brushed a hand against my knee. "I've been meaning to ask...what brought you here in the first place?"

My blush deepened. I whispered, "Do I look that out of place?"

"Like a deer in the headlights."

I smiled. "My classmate, Daniela, invited me here tonight." Biting my lip, I continued, "and I've been excited about it; I've known that I'm submissive for a while now."

"I could have told you that."

I blushed and she seemed to appreciate it. Her smirk was telling. After taking in my expression, her lips pursed.

"So, your friend from college invited you? Hm. Good thing she canceled." Her hand moved further up my thigh. I shivered and I was sure she noticed. "It sounds to me like you need an experienced dominant to introduce you to your submission."

"So, you're..."

"A lesbian?" she finished, knowingly. "No, sweetie. I enjoy seeing a man on his knees as much as anyone else," she joked, though it was hard to tell since her face remained straight the entire time. "I do prefer women, however. Though men can be just as delicate, women are more...to my taste."

This, she said while licking her lips. What with the way she was looking at me, I felt like a piece of meat. I knew in that moment that I would do anything for her.

"Are you a lesbian, Stephanie?" she purred. Her words dripped like poison from her lips, and I had to fight the urge to kiss her.

I shrugged shyly. "Yes...I mean,

no.

I'm not sure. I've never been with a man."

She bit her lip, before releasing it with a hum. "Ah," she murmured, "that's the way things should be. Girls are usually the other way around."

"My neighbor was a couple of years older than me; she was a soccer player."

The memory of her was vivid in my mind. I was a freshman in high school, and she was a junior. She was butch, and I wore skirts every day. I did cheer, and she did me. The way she held me, kissed me, looked at me, still made me shudder.

I omitted that she was the last person I'd been with.

"I

see,

" she smirked knowingly. "So, she turned you early...

"Lucky, then. Less work for me."

If this woman wasn't who she was, I would have imagined that she'd wink after a statement like that. After talking to her, I was seeing her in a new light. A low, red light, and it made arousal stir in my abdomen.

"What do you say about letting me introduce you to BDSM, Stephanie?"

"I think I'd like that."

"Very well, then. How would you feel about coming home with me for an introductory session? No play, only so that I can show you my ropes," she smirks. "If all goes well and you'd like to experience a bit of what I show you, you have a return invitation for tomorrow. That is when we'll see what you're made of."

I shivered. "Okay."

"Okay, who, Stephanie?"

"Yes, Natasha."

"

Good

girl," she grins.

I needed to be with her, and as soon as possible. But I remembered the men at her table. Possibly her lovers, which would leave me as an accessory. I frowned and watched as her eyes followed the descent of my lips.

I cleared my throat, speaking softly. "I'm sorry to ask, but if you want to

play

...with me, then who were--"

"Oh, excuse me," she said. "Those were good friends of mine. They are a dominant and submissive couple. We come here together pretty often."

"Okay," I smiled.

"Are you ready to leave?" she asked, looking into my eyes. "Only if you're comfortable, do I want to bring you home tonight."

"I am," I said. "I'm ready."

The car ride was short and quiet, and sooner than not, we were at the door to her modern home. A wave of nervousness came over me. Like sobriety, not from alcohol, but possibly from lust. I suddenly was uncertain of my choice...of this woman's home and lifestyle I'd stepped into. I was wary of what she would tell and show me. I had the feeling that I was in over my head.

"Okay," she sighed, from the now-closed front door. "How about a tour, to start us off?"

The house was contemporary, in various shades of white and black. She showed me the kitchen, the living room, and a beautiful room upstairs that she explained would be mine if I were hers. Our next destination was a room hidden behind a glass door and white curtain at the end of the hall. She paused a moment to look at me before opening the door.

"The playroom," she said and revealed a spacious room with high ceilings and many glass cabinets. I noticed large wooden contraptions large enough to hold people, as well as chairs and a large bed. She watched my expression carefully, before swinging the door slowly back to closed.

"That, we can explore tomorrow," she smiled deviously. "Now, let's talk."

Natasha led us to the living room and settled me on the couch before filling two glasses of water for us from the kitchen. She sat across from me in a gray armchair, smiling.

"Now, where were we?" she asked. "I want you to think of today as your first class in submission. I'll give you an overview of the course and we will be going over my expectations." I could discern the mirth in her tone and could tell that this was her attempt to appeal to the college student on her couch.

"First thing," she continued. "If you choose to come back tomorrow, you will refer to me as Mistress, or Ma'am, occasionally. If you use any other title for me, I will take it as blatant disrespect. You can use today as a free pass...unless you'd like to practice?"

I blushed. Practicing today might save me in the future. "I think I'd like to practice today...Mistress."

"Good," she smiled, soaking in my timidity like a dry sponge. "Now, punishments. The man that you saw tonight and I have developed a three-strike system for punishments. That is to say, some infractions are worth a single strike, or two strikes, but with something...

very

bad, you will strike out. My friend, Graham, loves baseball," she smiled. "If you spend your weekends here, you will get to meet him and his submissive, Tanner."

An hour later, I was a bit overwhelmed. My water glass was long empty, and my fingers had begun to drum over the empty glass. Natasha had just left to get me another. My eyes wide, I tried to digest all that Natasha had shared with me. Her rules, her expectations, were more than I anticipated. I was amazed by her attention to detail and her ability to convey so much in so little time. Despite my hesitation, I felt that I was up for her challenge.

When Natasha returned with our waters, she placed them down on the coffee table. Reading my body language, she reached out for my hand. I stood to my feet, answering her silent question, and smiled.

"I think we've covered enough for today," said Natasha, her arms wrapping around me for the first time of the night, hugging me to her chest.

"Is this okay?" she asked gently into my hair.

"

Yes,

Mistress."

I tried not to melt too much into her touch; I understood that she had strict boundaries. Even this affection was a luxury.

"Thank you for coming home with me tonight. I hope all of my talking didn't scare you away," she chuckled. "Do you think you'll come back tomorrow?"

"I will, ma'am," I said without a second's hesitation, sparking the hint of a smile on her lips.

"Good girl. Turn and face the mirror with me, and do not respond," she said, not allowing me to move by myself before beginning to turn me. In half a second more, we faced the mirror above her fireplace. From across the room, we were dimly lit, our silhouettes hazy in the low light. But, through the haze were her blue eyes, appraising over my shoulder, the movement of her hands exploring the hem of my dress.

"You are such a pretty girl. Do you know that?" she murmured into my ear. And I almost didn't hear her, with her hands distracting me. When her words registered, though, I didn't know how to take them.

"I'm not sure, Mistress," I frowned. I didn't know how her question pertained to submission.

"Stephanie. It is in your best interest not to contradict me. If it happens again, we will be having a very serious conversation about whether or not you're welcome here," she purred into my ear, mirth in her tone. Meanwhile, she slid her hands lower and lower down my torso. "I promised you no play today. Not until you've signed my contract. Maybe no play will be punishment enough for contradicting me," she chuckled, her voice still quiet and raspy.

I frowned, my eyes asking a question.

"Yes?"

"What contract, Mistress?" I asked.

"Right," she said, and her hands left my skin. I frowned deeper at the loss of contact and I thought I may have seen her smile out of the corner of my eye. Then, she was moving to a tall chest of drawers beside the mirror. She removed a piece of paper--a

stack

of papers--and presented them to me. Her face was serious.

"This is a contract listing all of the things we talked about today. I want you to look over everything and highlight any activities you are not comfortable with. If there is

anything

on here you would like to discuss, send me a text and I'll be happy to explain."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good girl, Stephanie. Once you have signed and returned this to me, we can start our training. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Alright, who? Use your words, Stephanie."

"Yes, Mistress, I'll read everything over."

"Good," Natasha smiled gently. It seemed like a weight was lifted from her chest. She sighed gently before continuing, "I think I'll pick you up from campus, tomorrow. Did I give you my number?"

I frowned. "I don't think so."

She nodded, disappearing for a moment into what I remembered was her home office. When she returned, she held a business card in her hand. And then, it was tucked into my own, a comforting smile on her face.

"Let's get you home," she said.

*******

A voice thrust me from my daydream.

"Stephanie," it called from the stairwell. "Is the table set for our guests?"

"Yes, Mistress," I replied.

"And the house is straightened?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She knew that it was. She only asked as part of our ritual.

For six months now, I'd been her submissive. Every weekend from Friday to Sunday, I would leave campus to spend the weekend at her feet, or wherever else she wanted me. Our time together was always new and exciting, the only constant being our Friday dinner guests, the guests on their way now.

"That's my girl," I heard, closer. The sound of stiletto heels brought my attention to the stairwell. Mistress was finally ready and coming downstairs to help me set everything for our guests. I took a moment to take her in. Regal and commanding were her appearance. Her grey satin blouse showed only the slightest sliver of cleavage, and her white slacks were still creased from the morning. She looked the picture of business, the picture of class, the picture of dominance.

Mistress brushed a lock of dark brown hair over her shoulder. She tilted her head, and her eyes smiled into mine. I found myself lost in the blue of her gaze. So much so that I almost missed her question.

"What are you so happy about today, Stephanie?"

My smile widened. "

You,

Mistress," I whispered.

She pulled me to her by my hips, brushing a curl out of my eyes.

"What about me?" she questioned softly. By now, my breaths were uneven. Every time her hands touched me, my heart went into overdrive. Every fiber of my being belonged to her, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Being yours, Mistress."

"

Hm.

My what, Stephanie?"

This was a test if I ever knew one. Her eyes danced, peering into my own. Excited to see how I would answer. Diligently, I responded,

"Your slut, Mistress."

A ghost of a smile graced her lips, quickly replaced by arousal. She loved to hear those words from me. "That's right," she affirmed.

Slowly, her hands trailed under my skirt, trailing circles on the skin. They played with the hem of my panties, digging into the soft flesh of my ass to leave deep marks...slipping under my skirt and into my panties. They were soaked; I could tell. All the while, her eyes were trained on mine, completely in control. I twitched as her fingers grazed the metal plug in my ass, as they trailed down to my pussy. Her fingers played in my wetness and we could both hear the erotic sound of how aroused I was. It wasn't just her effect on me, though. I hadn't cum in almost a month, and she knew it.

"Stephanie," her deep voice husked.

My eyes quickly rose to meet hers. "

Yes, Mistress,

" I rushed out, between heavy breaths. My voice, as well as my pussy, dripped with arousal. As if she were reading my thoughts, I saw a glimmer of arousal in my Mistress's eyes, before her expression became serious.

"If you behave this evening, I will let you orgasm later tonight."

I'd have given

anything

to orgasm for her. Though I would equally as well have waited another month if she told me to. Her pleasure was my own.

"

Yes,

Mistress."

"

Mmm.

Good girl, Stephanie," she praised, grasping my face firmly with one hand. She stared at me for a moment, her breath leaving warm condensation on my lips. Tilting my head roughly, she licked a stripe from the corner of my mouth to the other. She repeated the movement, sighing, before her mouth attacked mine, nipping and sucking at my bottom lip. Immediately, my eyes fell closed, my body relaxing to be molded by her will. My moans were muffled by her insistent mouth; I allowed her to possess me. Mistress always told me that she loved the lip-gloss I wore...and she never let it last for long.

"Open."

Before I could, her fingers were squeezing my face, forcing my lips open wide. Her other hand had moved to the front of my panties, playing with their hem. For a while, she stared at my contorted lips, her eyebrows furrowed in appreciation. Then, she leaned in, barely grazing my lips with hers. I began to rut against her body as the anticipation started to affect me. With a groan, Mistress finally dipped her tongue between my lips. Immediately after, she plunged two fingers deep into my pussy. Fucking me quickly, she moaned into my mouth.

I imagined what our guests would think if they walked in at that moment. I was pressed against the counter, my Mistress dominating me in her own kitchen. The sight was sinful. Drawing out my tongue, Mistress seized it in her teeth, biting and then sucking deeply. I loved when she did this, when she was possessive of me.

Placing a resounding slap on my cheek, Mistress pulled away abruptly. I was left gasping for breath, my skirt bunched around my waist. She looked completely unaffected and triumphant...as if she hadn't just fucked me in her kitchen. Mistress watched me calm myself down with an approving stare. She didn't smile, but her eyes danced with the pleasure she denied me. She loved the way she affected me.