Le Sexe Superieur Ch. 04

It's 8:30 and dark when I arrive in this moneyed neighborhood. Ah, to be a boss, single and have money in the bank!

I climb nicely laid brick stairs amid well-kept landscaping, reach the second floor, and press a doorbell. I wait, and press it again. And again. Is Payton leading me on? It wouldn't be the first time when chasing tail. Finally, the door opens, and there stands this handsome woman, still in her turtleneck and still with her winning smile. She's in socks. Her hair is slightly messed. For a moment, I imagine she's the woman in the bomber jacket I saw in the deli.

"Andrea! Come, come in. Sorry it took so long; I had to end a phone call." Again, she's holding my hand -- but this time, longer -- along with a warm, firm kiss on my cheek.

I take in her living room. Not surprisingly, aviation prints adorn the walls. There are spiny desert plants all around, a well-stocked liquor cabinet, and a most-wonderful kitchen area I'd die to have in my home. I mention this.

"It's great isn't it? Unfortunately, I'm not a great cook and I don't make much use of it, even with all those impressive-looking pots and pans."

She's soon asking if I want cocktails or wine, and I choose the latter. I've never been one for the stronger stuff. She pours a large glass full of pinot. No one-third-full restaurant wineglass here. I quaff some while sitting on her leather sofa. The wine is smooth and goes down easily, warming my stomach.

So how will this mating dance materialize, I wonder. Will we kill time with pleasant conversation and commence with more footsie, or ...?

I don't have long to wait. When my glass is about half empty, she brightens and says, "Andrea, dear, I don't know what you expected, but if you don't mind, I have plans. I'm very inspired."

I dip my head a little, kind of an unconscious nod, and look at her trousers that rest so nicely on her legs. I have the impression she works out.

She gets up and beckons me into her bedroom. So soon? She asks me to completely undress and while I'm doing so, a bit shyly (fortunately her place is warm), I notice her pulling some sort of garment from a white drawer. She holds it up. I recognize it as a long, vintage, all-in-one girdle with bra cups and garters. It's quite white. As you know, I'm partial to white lingerie, although this confection seems more on the industrial side.

"I have a thing about these," says Peyton. "They're from the old days, you know. My grandmother used to wear them, and I actually kind of inherited this from her. Would you try it on for me?"

A month ago I barely knew this woman, and now I'm in her boudoir and she's dressing me up on some silly erotic whim like I'm her play-doll? Her boy doll. Ah, what did I sign up for?

She's like an aunt who's taken over my care, and she's 33 and I'm 13. In reality, I think she's only five years older than me.

I stand there dropping my dress, nylons and panties to my feet, feeling pretty exposed and vulnerable. Peyton notices my holding back, so she comes up and spreads the length of the girdle along my front.

"Andrea, we've just got to see how this looks on you!" she exclaims. "I think it would be a good fit; please try."

At that instant I remember the waist cincher I'd brought, sitting back in my purse. So, even though this all-in-one was meant for a woman, it's not so different after all, is it?

So, I step into it, tugging, pulling and shimmying into the elastic. It's strapless (actually, straps are optional), with nice, semi-stiff bra cups and a sexy open bottom. There are artfully designed side, tummy and derriere panels and a subtle embroidered floral pattern down the middle. The overall tightness of the girdle over so much of my body is a new experience -- it's like being tightly and authoritatively embraced. The bra cups have strategically placed seams and lace that turn me on. I'm embarrassed that from underneath, my healthy erection is peeking out.

Peyton notices this with a sly smile as she stuffs the cups with some of her nylons, sneakily managing to play with my nipples at the same time, making my erection protrude even more. Then -- surprise -- she finds some little clips that she attaches to my nipples, resulting in just a little pain (not enough for me to object to -- in fact, I find that having "breasts" with that inner stimulation very erotic). She checks out my expression and seems happy I don't complain.

Finally she has me pull on some whitish nylons with white seams, and helps me secure them with the girdle's six garters. I am now a complete package, it seems. All I need now are some old-fashioned petticoats and a full skirt!

Andrea has me model the outfit by pretending to be a runway model; by turning around and sashaying here and there.

She claps enthusiastically. "Yes, Andrea, so nice! You do like being in it, don't you? Your erection gives you away, you devil ... Very sexy, with your tight butt and those nice cups ... It's such a nice design. You might think about getting one of those made just for men ... "

"I like tight things," I admit. "The tighter the better."

"Have you ever tried bondage?" she teasingly asks.

"Maybe just once, just fooling around years ago. Just playing. Didn't take it anywhere."

"Well-l-l-l-l," says Peyton, "why-y-y not add to your experience?" Out of another drawer come two pairs of handcuffs, one with which she quickly and expertly secures my wrists behind me, and another pair with a longer connecting chain to secure my ankles. My erection grows even more, managing to head upward past the bottom edge of the girdle.

I have tits, I'm in a women's long girdle, nipple clamps assert themselves, I'm restrained and ...

Peyton now finds another item resembling a dog leash. I think I'm blushing as she kneels down on the floor to attach it, via slender leather straps with chromed snaps, to my balls and penis. Standing, she yanks the leash authoritatively, making me take a couple tiny, manacled steps forward. As they say, she has me by the balls.

"Andrea, you're all mine now, aren't you? It's like you're out of the frou-frou 1900s or something! You look so unbelievably delicious; I could eat you like wedding cake. Oh, silly, you're dripping." She releases the leash, rolls a rubber down over my penis, and re-attaches it.

"And I had thought you'd be into regular sex," I manage.

She laughs. "Not when my imagination runs wild," she says. "This is what I've fantasized about doing with you for a long time. Now, with Skyler, she wanted to take the man's role, and that was fine, and you can imagine where that went."

"Yes, I could imagine."

"Now, come with me, Andrea. No, I don't mean cum! At least not yet." She laughs delightfully again.

With that, she pulls my leash and leads me down a hall into another room, walking with a rather strong, masculine gait. I love the idea of being pulled by my cock and balls: I love it extremely. I just want her to control me completely, to own me, and I'm living that fantasy.

This room, she explains, had been configured by the previous occupant as a pool room, and a plush pool table remained, with subdued lighting highlighting the table. The walls are dark. But I quickly notice that what at first appeared to be exercise equipment is rather either clever or diabolical (depending upon one's attitude) bondage and SM devices, with straps and restraints. The walls display an amazing assortment of whips, restraint cuffs, leather harnesses, and what seem to be animal attire, gags, and dildos. The purposes of other miscellaneous items escape me.

"Peyton's playroom," she says proudly.

"I'm going to leave for a minute, my Andrea. Take a look around, remember all of this, and see if anything interests you. On the other hand, I do like to surprise my submissives."

In the plural? "Was Skyler into any of this?" I ask.

"A little," she replies as she leaves.

I walk the room, checking out every erotic item, the cuff chains on my feet making little metallic sounds on the plush carpet as I walk. My slightly diminished erection swings back and forth. I look down at my "breasts." Damned if they don't look absolutely perfect in their cups.

I'm almost lost in my fantasies when Peyton re-enters. She takes my breath away in a really tough-looking leather corset, which pushes in her breasts but leaves cleavage above. Leather straps pull in her waist. The bottom of the corset wraps around her nicely shaped butt and then down and between her legs. Her hair is now back in a small, tight bun.

"I come with the room," she quips, as she finds a flogging whip and comes over to rub it against my lips (I can smell and taste the leather) and then along my prick. She rubs her front against me, leather against lycra, pushing her tits against mine, and brushing her lips against my neck, cheeks and then my lips. I practically melt, and I have to admit, my body is ready to fuck her right here. While dressed as a woman!

She reaches down to lightly stroke my balls and penis, and she knows she's driving me crazy.

"It was nice with your foot in the restaurant, too," I confess, amid excited breaths.

She winks, leads me back to the bedroom, releases me from the cuffs, nipple clamps, and leash and has me lay on her bed. Now she finds new padded-leather cuffs to hook my wrists to the bedpost and my ankles (I'm spread-eagled) to the far corners of the bed. I want to fuck her so bad.

She lights a couple candles and incense sticks, turns off the room lights (romantic ... ), and replaces the wet rubber on my dick with some kind of battery-powered tube that fits over my erection. I've never seen anything like it. I love sexual technology! The tube's warm, and has a mild vibration and massaging motion. It's very pleasing, but not enough to bring me to climax.

Meanwhile, Peyton smiles wickedly as she snaps apart the portion of her corset over her crotch, exposing a beautiful pussy with a subtle hair-line going upwards.

"Now, I'll allow you to pleasure me," she announces. "Worship my cunt-clit, Andrea. Come home ... "

And with that, facing me on her knees, she brings her pussy very close to my face, where I can smell it, feel its heat, and be aware of its wetness, its needs.

Finally, it's close enough for me to reach out with my tongue and contact her outer lips. Then she pulls them apart and comes closer so the tip of my tongue can barely reach her inner lips and clit.

I feel a bit funny laying there, bound to the bed. I wish I could be using my hands to rub her tits. Now she's laying her clit directly into my mouth, where I can wonderfully kiss and tongue and suck it. She's moaning ...

Then she abruptly turns 180 degrees so her ass faces me, and lays her cunt into my mouth again so I can approach it from a different angle. She continues to moan. Finally she shudders heavily, screams a little scream, takes a totally deep breath, and collapses on me.

But that's not the end of the episode ... After a couple minutes, she rouses herself, releases my arms, finds a peculiar gag I've never seen before and attaches it. It's a dark red dildo gag, and there's no doubt about its purpose. She completely removes her leather armor and carefully places the two clamps that had been on me, on her own nipples. After she turns up the action on my penis tube so I'm approaching orgasm, she lowers her vagina unto my nice, long gag-prick and starts pumping. She's so wet! Her fragrances and tastes flood my senses. I reach up to play with her nipples. I'm coming first as my midsection involuntarily flexes upward. I scream. Now she's coming. Wham!

I keep wreathing in the afterglow of my coming, while she enjoys keeping the dildo inside and moving her hips to explore its penetration.

After we've laid side by side for long minutes and I'm about to get up, she tells me to lay on my stomach. Shortly, she spanks me a couple nice blow on my girdled buns with a paddle. Splat, splat, splat.

"I want to give you something else to look forward to next time," she pronounces. "I'd use a cane or a riding crop, but I don't want to leave marks for your wife to see."

I head home a little later with my mind blown and knowing I'll never look at her -- or for that matter, sex -- the same way again. For better or for worse, she owns me. I'm more or less her submissive, yeah, her little girlfriend, and so far, so good.