1998 Pt. 01

I had been answering probably eight to ten ads a day on the kink social site and it took a lot of fucking time. Cutting and pasting replies isn't my style and can probably be spotted a mile away. If I had high hopes, then I knew I had to take each ad on it's own merit and reply as if it were the only ad I was going to see. Make it count.

The few replies were equally disqualifying. Some of the Dommes were either replying while driving on their phones or they simply couldn't spell. Six word replies or usually, nothing at all. My feelings probably mirrored those of the Dommes on the other end. If you can't impress me here, why bother? And so I kept writing and waited and waited and then I received an instant message that provided me with just a private email address. Admittedly this was somewhat abrupt, but everything about this woman's profile indicated a dedicated and serious demeanor. She wasn't a professional, that much was made clear. So I wrote her. I re-introduced myself. Thanking her for letting me get this far.

Before I actually read her reply, I looked to learn more about her online. Her email address didn't have her name, or at least it didn't seem like a real one. There were a few Dominos in the phone book, but really. I copied and pasted her email to my browser to see if she'd posted elsewhere. Nothing. Could she have created this email for just this reply? For me?

Lovely One,

I was entertained by your replies to my questionaire. It's clear that you gave my questions some attention and you write very well. That's important to me and a big reason why I've taken an interest in your application. It's easy to say all the right things a prospective owner wants to hear. Of course you want to make a good impression; but I warn you that playing it safe from here on out is not in your best interest. Certainly not in mine. If you're still interested in serving me. In becoming mine, then we will continue to email and I expect you to be completely truthful with me. I do not want to be wasting my time with you, samantha.

Mistress Domino

Of course her using my feminine name and interest in feminization had been in my application, and so when she used my name I felt like literally spinning. I know it doesn't take much. Quite honestly, with all my experience, I have the self discipline of an inexperienced newby. I'd been serving dominant women (professionals and non-professionals), for nearly twelve years by then. Still, the slightest bit of attention by a capable Domme and I completely turn to butter.

The usual song and dance of getting to know each other on a superficial level lasted only two days, but felt like a filtration process. I had expected the emails to go back and forth for about a week, but two days later I could tell I was exceeding her expectations and I had her undivided attention, and then some. That's incredibly gratifying. As a submissive, you want to stay humble, but when you can make an experienced Domme hungry for some interaction, it feels like the world is your oyster. There's nothing more gratifying.

The phone calls at night started immediately with some degree of intimacy and only got more heated from there. She had obviously taken notes or had my questionaire and previous emails printed and in front of her. She went back and asked about my how I came to get a PA. Or my attitude on tattoos, branding and body modification in general. I told her about serving a Domme who owned a popular swinger's party in the Hills.

"Did everyone there know you were her slave?"

"Not everyone", I replied. " But there were a core group who knew us. Knew our relationship and understood why I was running around getting towels and serving sandwiches".

"And they would use you?" she asked. I had mentioned this.

"I serviced the wives. I never had to go down on the husbands."

"Would you? If your Mistress had said it was part of your duties, would you have sucked the men off?"

"I would have." I answered this without hesitation, where some was due. To have hesitated in my reply would have sent the wrong message. "I'd done something like it before, but it had been arranged with my assistance. That would have been a bit...I don't know.."

"What?"

"Random, seems like the wrong word. Ahh, I guess it would have been more of a test than was necessary given all the uncovered cocks in the house. It definitely would have changed everyone's opinion of me there".

"Does that bother you," she followed, "that people will judge you?"

"Yes. It does, Mistress Domino. It's a personal failing of mine that I know I'll need to address".

The honesty did seem to flow with this woman.

"Yes you will," she said.

No jerking off, she instructed. We had five straight nights of late night chatting and the more I learned about her experiences as a Domme and her expectations; the more I began to wonder if I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Something to be honest, that also appeals to me.

I would be coming to see her on the weekend. It would be a one day visit starting at 11 am. I was to come to her by BART train. She lived way the hell out in the East Bay and so I needed to leave early to get there on time. She had also given me a list of things to bring.

*my passport

*a clear plastic purse, (big enough to hold ten decks of card, no smaller).

*feminine underthings, not a lot, but just enough. (I was to be wearing everything under my clothes)

*lipstick, (nothing subtle)

*(3) extra large tampons

*foundation make up with attached mirror. a compact.

*young ladies's socks, bright color(to wear the day of my visit)

*Zip Ties (extra long)

*a framed picture of myself, nude

*nough money, cash or card, to take her to dinner that evening.

*a notebook and pen. (pink, the more girly, the better).

*(2) Ace bandages.

It wasn't much of a scavenger hunt as I got most everything in one visit to a Walgreens. All except for the picture. I bought the frame but wondered how I could get a printed image of myself. In the end I went to the Castro and asked the clerk how this could be done. I didn't want to give my new Mistress a printed copy of a picture. The Castro felt like a obvious place to do something in public that was outside my comfort zone.

I took a lot of pictures of myself in the private bathroom of a photo shop. I had the door to my back, trying to hide the fact that I had my left leg propped up on a toilet. The light was seedy-dim and so was the door and ceiling. After fifteen tries, I had something discreet but undeniably private. As an added bit of daring, I used a fourth tampon and had the little string dangling free between my thighs. My tiny cock was visible, but camera shy.

She would either appreciate the initiative, or not.

The clerk's behaviour led me to believe my pictures were probably tamer than most he saw that day. I cropped it at home and it fit the frame well.

(more to follow)