My First Visit To a Domme

I've been browsing the Craigslist ads for the past few months, when I found what I was looking for. The ad read:

"White Dominant Female, 46 years old, is looking for a willing older sub male to play with sexually. Race doesn't matter. Experience is not required, but desire and your PG pictures are. Put the word 'Kneeling' in your subject line."

This is exactly what I wanted for a long time. I tried looking for a Domme for the longest time, with no success. I even tried with my own ad, but it only resulted in some bot responses and a come on from the local Escort agency.

Nervously, I started to craft my response to her ad. I wanted it to be perfect. Finally, I settled with:

"Hi, my name is James, and I'm interested in your ad. I've had a desire to serve a woman like you for as long as I can remember, but I've never acted on it. I'm older than you, 56 to be exact. I'm 6'2", 195 lbs. and in decent shape. I would love to serve you. If you'd like, I could meet you in a public place to dispel any concerns you may have. To be honest, I'm a bit nervous, and I would appreciate the public meeting as well.

Per your request, I added a face pic."

For the next few days, I've checked my e-mail over a dozen times to see if she answered my message. Finally, I got a response:

"James, I'm interested, but not convinced. As you can imagine, I got dozens of responses, most of which said, "Let's hook up", or "Wanna fuck." They also sent pics of their genitals, which they thought would impress me.

So, merely due to the fact that you actually read my ad, and you seem to have at least a passing knowledge of English grammar, you're officially at the top of my list.

You will meet me at Eveillé Coffee Shop at 5:00 p.m. this Thursday. Wear a pink shirt, buy one if you don't have one already. Buy two coffees. I take mine with two sugars and no cream, and wait for me. My name is Trish."

After reading her message a few times, I went shopping for a pink shirt. I like non-descript clothes, and I never had a pink shirt before. I considered if I should wear my pink shirt to work, or to find a restroom after work to change. Since I didn't want to draw attention to myself, I decided to wear a plaid shirt to work, and to change at a nearby McDonald's.

On Thursday, I spent the day fretting over my meeting with Trish. My concern must've been obvious since Nancy, my busybody coworker, asked, "Jim, is something wrong? You look preoccupied."

"No, I'm fine," I said, trying to put on my best smile. "I think maybe I'm coming down with something, but I'm fine."

She looked at me for a few moments, when she relented. "Ok. It just that the last time you looked like that is when we threatened to fix you up with that woman in Accounting." She continued with a laugh, "You're not catting around, are you?"

"I wish," I said, "Just another boring night for me."

"Maybe what you need is to get out a little," Nancy said, "We're going for po-boys at the new Eveillé Coffee Shop for lunch. Wanna come?"

I felt the blood drain from my face as I quickly said, "No, I think I'll just eat at my desk again. I don't think I'd be good company today."

Nancy shrugged. "Have it your way. It's your loss." She turned, and walked away.

I let out a breath, and went back to work. I had a hard time concentrating for the rest of the day. I felt like my chest would explode; my heart was beating so fast. Finally, I decided to leave early at 4:00 p.m. Nancy, bless her soul, saw me and said "I guess you really are sick; you never leave early."

"Yeah," I said, "I just don't feel so good. I think I'll go home, brew a cup of tea, and lay down."

I rushed to the parking lot, and headed to the nearest McDonald's. As I neared, I hesitated to go inside. I thought it would be too obvious to go in there and change shirts, so I rushed home to Metairie, changed, and rushed back to Magazine Street. In a feat in itself, I finally found a parking spot, and walked into the coffee shop with less than five minutes to spare.

I was sweating profusely as I walked inside. I was wiping my hands on my pants when the black woman behind the counter asked for my order. "Two coffees, please. One with two sugars, and I like mine black."

"I bet you do," she cracked, as she poured two coffees, and pointed to the sugar on a shelf to the side. "You can add sugar over there, honey," she said. I paid, fixed Trish's coffee, and looked for an out of the way table. Fortunately, the café was mostly deserted, so I didn't have to worry about us being overheard.

I sipped my coffee nervously, glancing at my watch every few minutes. It was obvious that I was waiting for someone. Finally, five minutes after five, a pretty brunette woman walked in, and glanced around the shop, obviously looking for someone. I froze as I couldn't decide if I should stand up, and invite her over to my table, or to let her spot me in my pink shirt, and come over on her own. As I was about to man up, and invite her over, she found who she was looking for. It wasn't me. She rushed to another table and hugged the woman seated there. 'Damn, I'm such a goober,' I thought, as I watch the exchange.

As the minutes ticked by, the more nervous I became, and I began to sweat profusely. I could almost hear her remonstration; "I didn't see anyone in a pink shirt, it was so wet, it looked red." Ten minutes later, I figured I'd been played for a fool. I was wondering how long I should stay when an attractive woman, in a red and black dress, entered the coffee shop, looked straight at me, walked over, and sat down.

"Hi, James," she said, "Nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand, and I shook it. She smiled, looked at me with piercing eyes, and continued. "You're hands are sweaty. You're nervous?"

"Yes, uh, Trish," I replied, lamely. I didn't know what I should call her.

She leaned over, and said quietly, "You may call me Trish in public and Mistress in private. Never confuse the two."

"Yes...Trish," I said, and I finally made eye contact with her. Trish is beautiful; black ringlets, near lavender eyes, with fair skin. I couldn't believe this would happen to me. She leaned back, sipped her cup of coffee, and made a face. "This is cold. Get me a hot cup. I believe you know how I like it."

I dutifully returned to the counter to get a refill of her coffee, and it seemed to me that the waitress was giving me a knowing look when she returned the cup to me and said, "Here you go, Hun. Gotta keep that woman happy, you know?"

After sweetening the coffee, I returned to the table with Trish's coffee, and handed it to her. "Anything else?" I asked.

"No, just sit down," she replied. "We need to chat. I'll lead the conversation, do you understand?"

"Sure," I replied, casting my eyes down, with more than a little embarrassment.

"First, I little more decorum is required. Sure is awfully informal. I expect more respect, Understand?"

"Yes, Miss...Trish," I replied.

"Better," she said. "Now, tell me about what you want from our relationship."

The reality is that I wasn't sure. I wanted her to take control, and tell me what to do. Yes, I wanted sex, but I wanted her to lead. I needed her to lead.

"I...I'm not sure," I stammered, "I want you to control me sexually. I want you to be in charge and...teach me how to satisfy. That's it...I want to satisfy you."

She smiled, and said, "That's pretty open-ended. I'm not sure you understand what you're saying. Maybe we should start with what you won't do, and whatever is left defines the universe of what I may do with you. The things you won't do are called limits. Everyone has limits, and I have limits to what I'll do to you too. So, tell me, what things wouldn't you ever do?"

I thought for a moment, when I answered. "I'm absolutely straight, so I won't do anything sexual with a man. I also read that some people like to use poop and piss in sexual acts. I absolutely won't do that. Also, I don't like the idea of permanent marks and scars. I think I can take some...light punishment, but nothing really harmful or extremely painful. I'm not looking for humiliation. I know men who are dominated really want to be humbled, but that's not me. I just like situations where the woman takes the lead sexually."

She looked at me for several moments, when she finally replied, "I'm not sure you're being completely candid with either me, or yourself, James." She took a breath before she continued, "There have to be specific turn-ons for you. I'm not promising I'll ever give you what you want, but I do want to understand what drives your passion." She looked at me with unblinking eyes and a probing expression before she continued. "Regardless, I like you. You're a little older than me, and that's what I like. I'm willing to take you on as a project as long as you can follow simple instruction. You can follow simple instructions, can't you James?"

"Yes, Yes I can, Trish," I said.

"Good," she replied with a tone of finality, "Then it's a plan. Oh, one other thing. How's your health, James? No heart problems or other medical issues I should be aware of?"

"I'm in great shape," I said. "I work out regularly, and I have no heart problems or other issues."

"Good," she replied, "But regardless, I want to make sure you'll be up to whatever I decide to put you through. Specifically, I want you to take Viagra before our visits. Do you have an issue with that?"

I didn't want to admit that I'd used Viagra before, so I answered, "I don't need that."

"I don't care," she replied, staring at me straight in the eye, "It's a deal breaker for me. I want you to be responsive to whatever I do, whenever I do it."

I swallowed hard, and said, "Ok, whatever you want, Trish."

She smiled knowingly. "Good, I'll send you an e-mail when we should meet," she said as she pushed an envelope towards me. "I expect you to be available when I want you, got it?"

I nodded. She gave me her smile, and without another word, she stood up, and walked out the door.

When she was gone, I start to shake. I was scared of what would come next. I didn't want to drive in the state I was in, so I decided to have a refill. Well, that was a big mistake! My favorite barista was clucking and shaking her head. "Honey," she said, "You're out of your league. Nothin' but trouble ever gonna come of that!"

I smiled at her, and simply said, "You're probably right." It was then that I knew I would follow through. It was time to take a chance. In the car, I opened the envelope and there was a business card that read "Trish Vandenberg, Sensual Mistress" and a single blue pill.

The next Tuesday, I received a message from Trish. It simply said, "Come to my house tomorrow night at 7:00 p.m. Take the Viagra at 6:30, and wear your pink shirt." She included her address on State Street. State Street is generally an upscale address in Uptown, but New Orleans is a strange city; one street might have mansions on it with rundown homes a couple of blocks away on the same street. It felt like I was cheating, but I looked up the address on Google Maps. If the precise address was correct, the house appeared to be very nice with two front doors: a duplex. I felt a little uneasy; I was glad it wasn't a wreck of a house, but at the same time, a neighbor would be able to eavesdrop.

The next day, I was nervous at work. So much so that my nosy coworker, Nancy, mentioned that there was something wrong with me. And, as only she could, she asked me to lunch to talk about it. Once again, I declined her invitation.

Since I had plenty of time between work and my meeting with Trish, I went home, took a shower, and dressed in my pink shirt. As promised, I dry swallowed the Viagra, and headed to my car to drive uptown. The traffic was busy as usual, but it unnerved me today. I didn't want to be late. But, the heavens were smiling down on me as I got there five minutes early.

I parked at the corner of her street, and I walked up to her house. I rang the bell, and waited nervously for her to answer. A few moments later, a voice rang out from the speaker above my head. "Hello, James," the voice said, "I'm glad to see that you're punctual. Shut the storm shutters behind you." I looked around and realized that the house had a recessed door, with storm doors covering the entranceway. I closed the storm doors, when Trish on the speaker said, "Take your clothes off."

As I glanced around to find Trish, I saw the video cam. That's how she knew. I unconsciously glanced at the storm doors, afraid that they would be opened by anyone at any time.

"James, you are here to serve me in any way I desire. At the moment, I desire to see more of you. Take your clothes off." Sometimes you want something so bad that you don't know what to do when you get it. I was getting exactly what I wanted, and I was scared as hell.

I took off my pink shirt, and bent over to remove my shoes, and socks. I unbuckled my belt, unzipped, and pulled off my pants. Standing only in my boxers, I noticed that my cock was responding to the excitement of the situation. It was stiff, but not completely hard. I must've hesitated, as I heard her say "Go on. I don't have all night!" With a huge sigh, I pulled them down.

Then...nothing happened.

I waited for what seemed like minutes, and finally, I heard her voice say "You may enter now." I entered and closed the door behind me, and then heard the electric lock engage. I was standing at the end of a long hallway that ran the length of the house. The floor was a dark polished oak, with walls the color of subdued yellow, with ornate crown moldings painted white. At the end of the hallway sat Trish. She was wearing a light green dress and was calmly drinking a cup of tea. "Stand still. Right there," she ordered.

I did as I was told, feeling the first flush and thickening of my cock caused by the Viagra. She continued, "Hang your clothes on the hall tree. I don't want any untidy piles on my floor." After I was done with her command, she said, "Come here."

It felt like I was moving in quicksand as I walked towards her. I couldn't maintain eye contact with her. She stared at me like she was catching a glimpse at my soul. Her stare was so intense, it was eerie. Finally, I stood in front of her, my chest heaving with the rush of adrenaline and with my cock pointing straight at her.

She looked at me from head to toe with a bemused expression. I couldn't tell if she was pleased or amused. Finally, she simply said, "You do work out, it appears." She placed her palm of her right hand on the side of my face, and ran it down. She hooked a finger to my bottom lip, down my chin, onto my chest, where she rubbed slowly. She smiled as she continued to run her hand slowly down my stomach, and stopping just short of my twitching cock.

She cupped my balls with her left hand. As she squeezed, she said, "I do prefer a shaved man. You've trimmed up for me, but it's more hair than I like. However, you please me so far. Just so you know I can't stand liars. You're not really 56, are you?"

"Yes, Mistress, I am," I blurted out.

She stroked my cock, licked her lips, looked me in the eye and said, "How about you prove it? Go get your driver's license."

As I turned to do as she asked, she said, "Your ass is not your best attribute. Your workout routine needs to be improved."

I became aware of her watching my ass as I walked back to my pants to grab my license. I became concerned about what she would do with that kind of information. And again, Trish displayed her ability to read me completely. "Don't worry about what I might do with your personal information," she said, as she took my driver's license into her hand. She started to recite my full name, address, even where I worked. I was both bothered about it, and quite impressed at the same time.

When I returned my license to my wallet, I noticed for the first time that both sides of the house were hers. The other side was mainly a huge room that was probably used as a ballroom in earlier generations. All along the hallway were pictures of dogs, cats, horse, even foxes and wolves. Not a single family photo or of a single person. How odd.

Proving once again that she could be telepathic, she said, "You wonder about the pictures of animals. I'm a veterinarian although I no longer practice. My father died at a young age. Your age to be exact. It left me financially secure. I've always felt more comfortable with animals than with people. I still volunteer at the animal shelter, and I pursue my personal interests. And, you are currently one of those interests."

Waves of ecstasy ran through my body as she slowly stroked my cock again. "Now, James, there are a few rules to our game," she said, "I make you do things that pleases me, and you do them to please me. What gives you pleasure comes second, it I give it any consideration. You've told me your limits, but you need safe words to protect yourself. So, if you absolutely don't want to do something, say 'Red' and I'll stop. If you you're really nervous about what you're doing, but not ready to say 'Red', then say 'Yellow'. I may stop, or I may continue. If I continue, I'll watch your comfort level very closely. There's no point in saying 'Green'. If you don't say anything to stop me, then I'll just keep going. Do you understand?'

"Yes, Mistress," I said. She smiled and squeezed my balls.

"Alright, then. James, I wish to shower, and I'm going to use you as my personal valet. The bathroom is just there to the right. Start the water and get it warm but not too hot."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied. The expectation of seeing Trish naked thrilled me. I started the shower, tested the water, and returned to her to say that her shower was ready.

She stood up, and said, "Follow me." Once in the bathroom, she said, "Unzip me, James." With shaky hands, I pulled the zipper of her dress down, and she stepped out of it. "Hang my dress up James. I don't want it wrinkled." I complied, and she instructed me to undo her bra. I did and she turned around to face me. She had small, beautiful tits with very dark nipples. I could barely control my hands. "Kneel down, James. Pull my panties down." The tremors in my hands were now quite obvious, and I fumbled with the waistband of the panties as I pulled them down and she stepped out of them. I was left kneeling with my mouth and nose inches from her pussy, which was completely shaved. Her scent was released when I pulled down her panties, and I realized she was as turned on as me. "Would you like to lick it, James? I know I would," she taunted. She must have known that I was struggling against my instincts to bury my face there.

With that, she stepped into the shower, leaving me kneeling with a hard cock and a desperate desire for more. "Get in here, James. My hair won't wash itself. And I need someone to wash my back. Don't, I repeat, do not touch me with your dick. I expect you to control your natural impulses."

The act of washing her hair was an amazing revelation to me. I actually felt honored to be allowed to run my hands through her hair. Washing her back and ass was also an amazing turn-on. Her ass made up for any shortcoming my own might have.

Turning around to face me, she began to soap up her breasts, and ran her right hand down to her pussy and rubbed herself as she closed her eyes and moaned softly. "I know you want me, James, but you can't have me. Your only hope for release is to do it yourself. Play with your cock; I want to see you pleasure yourself."

I've never masturbated in front of another person, and I really felt uncomfortable, but at the same time, she had me very excited, and it felt good. She then said, "Just be sure to not cum. You can only cum when I tell you to, understand?" I just nodded as I looked into her staring half-lidded eyes.