To My Mistress

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A Tale of Lesbian Seduction.
7.2k words
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 08/19/2017
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Chapter One

I don't know what it was about her. She captivated me. Not at first, of course. When I first laid eyes on her, she unnerved me. The way she talked to me made me uncomfortable. I would never truly get comfortable with her, but then that's the way it should be. For she was my Mistress, and I loved her, quirks and all.

I worked at the Crichton-Smythe luxury hotel in London. Centrally located in the Soho district, right around the corner from Forbidden Planet, which excited my boyfriend of the time to no end. In retrospect, I now see that his preference for going through shelves of graphic novels over pulling my panties down was a sign that he was hardly fiancé material. I used to tell myself that he was "imaginative". But that was before the first genuinely imaginative person I've ever met in my life showed up.

The Crichton-Smythe was also directly across the street from a high-end lingerie shop. Why couldn't I help gazing at it for hours on end every day? Was it because I was possessed by uncontrollable fantasies of what a life in fishnets and black lace would be like? Maybe. But the more prosaic reason was that the shop was directly in my sightline for the duration of my shifts. Oh well, at least I wasn't stuck looking at Forbidden Planet. It wouldn't be until I finally entered the shop that I would discover it dealt with far more than lingerie.

I had been working the front desk at the Crichton-Smythe for nine months. I was one of those cute little 20-something girls that you see at every front desk of every hotel worth staying at. I was attractive, with a slight edge, but no hint of any femme fatale leanings. Husbands found me appealing, but wives weren't unduly threatened by me. My figure was just on the right side of curvy, and worked well in concert with my reddish dark bob with bangs. I was perky, but not obnoxiously so, and organized. In short, I was very good at my job, and I knew it. As Monte, my Manager, had made clear in my employment interview, I fit a very particular type of personality that all luxury hotels seek for their front desk staff.

There was no implied sexism there. It was refreshingly implicit. Monte was very clear with his blunt appraisal of my assets, and how they were ideal for the position. He said if I didn't like it, I was free to seek employment elsewhere. However, the job he was offering paid significantly better than any commensurate positions. He also gave me his solemn promise that no sexual harassment of any kind would be tolerated, from either employees or customers. One word from me, and he'd throw Sir Mick Jagger out on his ear if it came to it. I decided to trust Monte, and he proved to be as good as his word, until Camille came along.

Chapter Two

It was the middle of a busy summer day. Check-ins were constant. I was finishing up a check-in on my terminal at the front desk when a voice caught me by surprise.

"Hello dear, could you check me in, please?"

Where had she come from? No one had ever snuck up on me like that before. I prided myself on always being aware of everything and everyone in the lobby. And that voice: husky, definitely mature enough to be my aunt. American, but cultured. Probably from East Coast money. Wonder if she was a Connecticut type, or elite enough to rate something in the Hamptons?

"Yes, yes, just a moment, please", I said while I finished up. This was the first time I'd ever betrayed even a hint of impatience with a client (we called them clients, not guests, or customers. One screw-up on this point led to a very short meeting with HR).

"Fine, dear. Take your time. I'm sure it'll be worth it."

I finished and looked up. The owner of that voice belonged to a very striking woman. Mature, I'd say in her late 40's or early 50's. Smartly dressed in something dark, casual, and expensive. The necklace and earrings looked expensive too. She was in good shape. Maybe a little curvy, but it looked like she used her gym membership. Maybe she owned the gym.

Her hair was a dirty blonde that looked like constant work for her preferred hair designer. It waved almost down to her shoulders, with finely sculptured bangs. I'll bet she rocked that Aniston style twenty years ago. Her skin was slightly pale, but looked great. Arranged her life around her spa treatments apparently.

But it was the eyes that really did something to me. Brown, with little flecks of yellow in them. The kind of penetrating stare that would have put my old school headmistress's glower to shame. I found myself just staring into those eyes. Staring, and staring, and staring, and...

"I'm ready anytime you are, dear."

Shit! Was I staring?

"Yes, so sorry" I blurted out.

"That's ok. It was a novel experience to be kept waiting."

I checked her in. Her name was Camille...? Hmm. Wasn't sure exactly how to pronounce that surname. I'll just use...

"Ma'am, here are your keys" as I handed her key-cards to her.

"Don't call me Ma'am. I do not answer to Ma'am."

"Yes, of course Mrs., uh—"

"Don't call me anything now. We'll work on that later. Just nod your head for me."

All right, then. This was uber-weird, but...I just nodded my head like an idiot. It was like she had some sort of hold on me.

We were done, I guess. She strolled over to the lift. I couldn't help following her with my eyes. I turned back to my computer, didn't want to be caught staring, but I was straining with my peripheral vision, and...she turned her head.

She ignored the lift that just arrived to walk back over, coming behind my desk. She grabbed my shoulders, looked me up and down. Then she undid a button, fluffed my collar, wet her hand, and did something to my bang.

"There" she says, "You're attractive, you know."

Did her tongue just flit across her lip? She couldn't have possibly licked her lips, could she?

"But you could be very, very attractive. Lots of potential here. Don't worry, we'll get you there."

She disappeared on the next lift.

Chapter Three

How long did I stare at that elevator? Until the next client showed up a minute later, that's how long. I pretty much forgot about Camille as the day wore on. Not initially, but then the check-in's and the constant calls to the front desk pretty much obliterated the day. At odd moments of respite, I would come back to her in my thoughts. What was it about her? Why did she keep coming back into my head? How had she even gotten in there in the first place? And what else do they sell in that lingerie shop across the road?

Was this some sort of attraction? It would be very odd if it were. I'd never been that into the ladies before. Sure I'd shared a few innocent kisses with my teenage girlfriends. I may have even fantasized a little, but I wasn't really the experimental type. I had a path I was on, and that wasn't the sort of person I was. My boyfriend wasn't experimental in the least, which is why we got along so well. Still, every once in awhile I wanted him to take some initiative. Would it be so wrong to stick a finger up my ass during missionary, to see how I reacted? It was dirty, I know, but I was kind of curious about what it would feel like.

"I see you checked Camille in today."

I was daydreaming between check-ins, but leave it to Monte to ruin a moment like that.

"Oh, yes. Is she a regular?"

"Very. You should get to know her...if she shows any interest."

"Yes, um, how precisely do you pronounce her last name? I think I may have it. Is it...?

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. Chances of you ever using it are very slim."

Okay, now even Monte's acting weird. Maybe this is one of those dreams where I strip off my uniform, walk through the lobby naked, and wake up in another cold sweat with my hands between my...

My shift ended at 6. I felt a presence behind me as I logged off my terminal. I turned around, and sure enough, Camille was there. She wet her hand, and brushed my bang back again.

"I'm going for a drink in the lobby. You should join me, of course."

It wasn't phrased like a question.

"I'm pretty sure that's against the rules, especially when I'm in uniform."

"Not any more. Follow me, please" Camille said as she took my hand.

"But...but..." And, I was back to sober Karaoke.

"I don't appreciate hesitation, miss. Now I've made my invitation clear. Please follow me."

A minute later, I found myself sitting at the bar, facing Camille. Employees were not allowed to dine or drink in the bar or restaurant under any circumstances. This was a cause for immediate expulsion. And wearing my uniform was like dressing up like a fox for the foxhunt. But nobody seemed to care. I saw Monte walk by a couple times, and he didn't even give me a second look.

Camille ordered our drinks. She knew what I should have, of course. Some fruity thing, while she sipped something dark and neat. We talked for a good while, well, mainly I talked. She seemed interested in my story, and encouraged me to just babble on. But I knew something was going on. Come on, a woman like her does not just ask the girl at the desk out for a drink.

"Is this a pickup? Are you...interested in me...in that way?"

"Would you like me to be?"

"Never really fancied the ladies, I'm afraid. Oh, not that I have anything against the lesbians, it's just..."

She cut me off. "If this is anything, than it is what it is. Please tell me that is understood."

Um, okay. "Uh, sure. I understand, I guess, Cami—"

She cut me off again. "It would really be better if you called me Mistress."

What...the...fuck!

"Did you say...Mistress?"

"Yes. Mistress." She wasn't being especially quiet about it. I know Tony the bartender heard her. Bet his beady little eyes were on me. I didn't know what to say. I should have, actually, but I couldn't say anything. I couldn't look away from that implacable face, staring me in the eyes, either.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"There's not much, if anything, to understand. This is what the dynamic between us requires.

"Mistress" I said softly, as if I was trying out the word. Was my mouth betraying me?

Camille smiled just slightly, as if I were a student starting to grasp a concept.

"That was very good. Why don't you thank me for that compliment."

"Thank you...Mistress."

"Good. In the future, try to keep in mind that I do not appreciate hesitation of any kind. And I do not care to repeat myself."

"Yes, Mistress."

We didn't have dinner as such. Camille, I'm sorry, Mistress, kept a steady stream of appetizers coming. We had a nice munch as we talked. I admit it. I was beginning to fancy the idea of this exciting woman seducing me. It wasn't just that she was sexy, which she was, especially for a woman her age. But I found something arousing about the way she took complete control over everything. It was as if the bar and hotel revolved around her. I was so flattered that she found me interesting enough to spend time with.

And it wasn't the drink talking, either. Mistress kept us capped at just one drink each. It felt stingy at the time, but now I realize that she didn't want me to let the alcohol make my decisions for me. Whatever happened, I had to be a willing participant.

After we'd been there for some time, Mistress reached over to caress the back of my neck under my hair. It was very tender. Then she stood up.

"We're done here."

She strolled over to the lift without looking back, obviously expecting me to follow. She wasn't disappointed, as I dutifully followed her into the lift. We stood side-by-side, staring straight ahead, no touching. It was by far the most awkward lift ride I had ever experienced. My mind was swimming with the admittedly limited possibilities it was able to conjure at the time. I knew this whole "Mistress" thing was going to lead down some edgier avenues than I'd ever experienced, but how far? I had to know what was really going on.

"Excuse me, Mistress, but—"

"You may speak when you are spoken to."

Okay. I shut up. And my mind raced.

Chapter Four

I can only relate the rest of this story in the present tense, even though these events happened in the recent past. When I close my eyes and think back to them, they are happening all over again for me.

I follow Mistress down the corridor to her room. She stops at her door and turns to face me.

"It would really be best for you to get on your hands and knees."

I think I'm in shock. I must be staring at her like an idiot.

She crosses her arms.

"I made it quite clear downstairs how I feel about hesitation, and repeating myself."

She's right, she did. I go down on my hands and knees. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it. But I know I'm being...I guess dominated is the word, and I'm going with it. In truth, Mistress has been dominating me all night. I just haven't wanted to admit it. Will I enjoy this? Is this something I really want to try? Well, why not. It only has to be this one time. And suddenly I feel like experimenting a little. I am also awfully aroused by her. But I'm not a lesbian. Damn sure on that.

"Keep your eyes focused on the carpet."

I put my head down and look at the carpet. I hear some rustling in Mistress' bag, and then...

She puts something around my neck. Oh my God, that feels like leather brushing against my skin. I've been collared; at least I think that's how it's put. Mistress fastens it with expert ease, and then clips a metal leash to a ring on the collar. I hear the door click open.

"Crawl."

I'm frozen. Probably not a great place for that to happen, out in the corridor of my workplace. Anyone could waltz around the corner and find the front desk girl on her hands and knees sporting a collar and leash.

The leash goes tau3t. I get the message. I start to crawl, and Mistress leads me into her suite on my hands and knees, like her pet.

Mistress pulls the leash to stop me a few feet into her suite.

"Stay. Eyes on the carpet below you. Do not move, and do not make any sound."

I obey. I stare straight down at the light grey carpet. I silently thank her for not choosing to occupy our suite with the hardwood floor. I have plenty of time to study this carpet. It's in good shape. Not too old, shampooed regularly...

I hear plenty of rustling in the background. But it's all deliberately paced. Mistress is in no hurry, whatever she's doing. I wish I knew what she was doing. I should just look up. What could one little look hurt? Oh, whom am I kidding? I'm a grown woman on her hands and knees in a hotel suite with a collar and leash around her neck. And it's all because a woman told me to do it.

Mistresses' feet appear underneath me. She sports a pair of shiny black leather boots. The heels are high, but not ridiculously so. They're solid enough (chunk style) to make walking easy enough in them. I can't see how far the boots go up, but I can feel them brush against my hair as she leans into me. Up to her knees at least, maybe even her thighs. I'll bet they're sexy. Wonder what else she's wearing?

"Kiss them."

What, her boots? Her feet? I've never done anything like this before.

But I do as she commands. I lean down and kiss each foot, tenderly. I've never kissed leather before.

"Do you know what we're doing here?" she asks.

"I think so. Is this S & M?"

"That's is this S & M, Mistress."

"Is this S & M, Mistress?"

"You could say that. Do you know what S & M stands for?"

"Ummm..." Nope. Total blank.

"S & M stands for sadism and masochism. That is a partially correct definition for what I do. BDSM is the more accepted acronym these days. It stands for Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, and Masochism. Those are elements that will define our relationship. I don't expect you to understand this completely yet, but you will with my training. Tell me you understand this enough to go on."

"I understand, Mistress."

"As of tonight, I am your Mistress. You are to acknowledge that when you address me. Now try that again."

"I understand...my Mistress."

"Good. Now be honest. You don't completely understand what's happening here, do you?"

"No, my Mistress, I do not."

"That's ok. You will. All you have to know for now is that no harm will come to you. You are going to go through a training program tonight. It's one I've specially designed for my requirements...and particular kinks. We will have a definable relationship at the end of it. Do you know what a safeword is?"

"I...I think so" I stammer. Stammering? I don't have a stammer. God, I haven't been this nervous since that time I tried to do Karaoke sober.

Silence. Ooops!

"I think so, my Mistress."

"Please be consistent. It's for your own good. A safeword is your lifeline. It is the only thing tethering you to your old life. It's what you use if something gets to be too much for you, or you decide this just isn't for you. Do you understand?"

"I think so, my Mistress."

"Your safeword is red. Nice, simple, and traditional. Say it for me."

"Red, my Mistress."

"Tonight you may use it anytime you need a break, or if you need to stop completely. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Mistress."

"Once we start, I will not stop for words like stop, no, please, or any expressions of pain. I will only stop if I hear the word red. Do you understand?"

Expressions of pain? What have I gotten myself into? I should just say that word right now. But instead I say...

"Yes, my Mistress."

"Good. There is no shame in ever using a safeword, at any time. I will respect you for it. It will still be in effect at all times after your training is over. That is because of my kindness. You should thank me for that. "

"Thank you, my Mistress."

Her feet move. She's gone. Now what? She didn't say I could do anything. I hear stuff happening in the room. Sounds like a case being opened, maybe a towel being unfolded.

She walks back over to me. I can't see, but I can hear her, and feel her near me. My Mistress circles around and stops behind me. She bends down and...

A pair of hands reach into my skirt. My panties are pulled down my legs, very, very slowly. Mistress guides them all the way, over my shoes, until they are off. She then proceeds to strip me naked, very methodically. I can occasionally feel her body brush against mine as she leans in to unbutton and slide things off. She's naked, except for her boots, near as I can tell.

My bra is the last thing to come off. I think she stands up once she's done, and looks me over for a bit. I can't see anything but the carpet, so I don't know for sure. I must be shivering with nerves. I've never been scrutinized like this before. My body's so imperfect. Is Mistress having second thoughts?

I feel her body on top of mine suddenly. She's lying on top of me. It's like I've been mounted. I feel her breath in my hair, and the side of my face. She reaches under and fondles my breasts. It's not rough, but it feels like she owns them.

She stands up. The weight and warmth of her body gone immediately.

The leash goes taut again.

"Crawl."

I crawl. She leads me to the bed. There's a padded bench at the end of it, about half the height of the bed. She guides me up onto it on my knees, and then directs me to bend over the bed, resting on my hands. More rustling. I have yet to see anything but her feet. I think I hear something being strapped on maybe? Sounds like some sort of bottle being opened. Smells like lotion, or...

A finger goes in my...oh my God! A finger just went into my ass! What the...I'm not ready for this! No one said anything about...

A hand grips my shoulder.

"Relax" she says, "just focus on your breathing. Try to bring it down, breathe normally."

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