Miss Allison Ch. 01

Miss Allison (Ch. 01)

soppingwetpanties

This story has multiple chapters. This first chapter introduces the main characters. There's only a hint of what's to come in this chapter.

Dedicated to David. It's my spin on his kinks.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

It's always tiring coming home from a long business trip and my most recent one to Cleveland (and my employer's home office) was no exception. Windowless conference rooms, endless Power point presentations and shitty coffee. And if that wasn't enough punishment you got to stay in a second-rate budget hotel. I desperately wanted to be home and wake up in my own bed.

It was a Thursday, which meant I was getting home a day early. It wasn't a hard decision when the VP of Sales asked me, as a personal favor to him, to cover some sales meetings near my office in Chevy Chase, Maryland. I readily agreed, leaving the corporate retreat early to the envious stares of my co-workers.

I fucking hated corporate retreats. My employer was deluded enough to think that people actually gave a shit about the multinational corporation they worked for. I was certain my brain had already turned to mush after the three days I'd already endured. If there was an office God, I thanked Him (or Her) that I was excused a day early.

The flight back to D.C. arrived early and I made it to my car around two in the afternoon. I was elated that I'd miss the brunt of the rush hour traffic and get home in time to watch a playoff baseball game. The Orioles were in as a wild card and I was looking forward to having a couple of beers and watching the game.

I also reminded myself to order flowers for my foxy next-door neighbor Allison. She watched my cat and watered my plants while I was gone. My black cat, a male appropriately named Lord Vader, was an agent of death to the small rodents in our neighborhood. He prowled around at night and slept during the day. Sometimes he left a trophy of his nightly hunt at my kitchen door.

I got Lord Vader as a rescue and I swear he commanded me to adopt him and not the other way around. Some cat-like Vulcan mind meld. Anyway, I was at a grocery store and the rescue organization had a mobile van in the parking lot. That's where Lord Vader cast his spell over me. I went out for eggs and bread and came back with a cat.

I divorced about five years ago and adopted Lord Vader shortly after. I envied him. He made friends with Allison and often spent significant time in her house. As a result, Allison offered to watch Lord Vader when I went out of town.

So Allison. What was she like? Even though she lived next door I didn't know her that well. Maybe it was because I got tongue tied in the presence of a beautiful woman. Allison definitely qualified. Pretty and big breasted. I figured her for her early forties, tops. I knew she was divorced because she told me. She didn't let on to any details of her divorce but at least I knew she was single. And she apparently liked cats.

Did I ask her out? No. She was way out of my league. There weren't too many women clamoring for a date with a fifty-five-year-old divorcee with thinning hair and a paunch I couldn't seem to get rid of, and certainly not Allison. I was content to live my life vicariously through Lord Vader. He slept in her house, and probably in her bed, whenever he wanted to. Bastard.

So I got home around four and parked my sensible four door sedan in the detached two-car garage. There's a breezeway between the garage and the three-bedroom ranch house so I had to pass through a garage door, a breezeway and a kitchen door to get into the house.

I went to push open the kitchen door and noticed a fresh coat of paint on it. Strange, I thought. When I went in I noticed the pile of dirty dishes in the sink were gone and the kitchen was suspiciously spotless. It looked like a housekeeper had come... but I didn't have a housekeeper. The house was "lived in" (aka a pigsty) when I left and now it was clean and tidy. While I was admiring the beauty of my clean home Lord Vader came up to me and meowed. His water dish was empty. The floor was wet next to where the dish was sitting so he must have tipped it over as a form of protest for me leaving town. I refilled the dish and then pulled my roller bag into the bedroom.

The bed was made. My closet had been straightened up. My dresser drawers were neat and arranged. I went into the master bath. Sparkling clean. Allison must have done it all. Wow.

I unpacked my suitcase while drinking a beer. It was a hot summer in Maryland, and the series of thunderstorms that passed through when I was gone had left the inside of the house hot and muggy. I remembered the game was starting in fifteen minutes so I rushed through the remainder of my unpacking and ran to the living room to turn on the TV (the pregame show was still on) and then to the kitchen to retrieve another beer. I was planning to make it through the six pack of Modelo I stashed in the refrigerator while watching the game stripped down in my underwear. One of the few privileges of bachelorhood.

So as I ran to the kitchen I heard a key jiggling in the lock of the kitchen door. I was standing in the kitchen, mouth agape, when the door swung wide open. It was Allison.

Holy shit. Allison was standing there in a red Maryland Terrapins t-shirt, skinny jeans and white canvas deck shoes. The t-shirt was tight enough for me to see the outline of her bra and the exact shape of her impressive breasts. Her bleach blonde hair was short and neat. She looked upset. But why?

"You're early," she said in what I could swear was an accusatory tone usually reserved for an angry wife. "I saw your car pull into the garage so I came over."

"I forgot to tell you I was coming home early. Thanks for watching Lord Vader," I said cheerily, hoping I'd misread her mood. I ignored the fact that she unlocked the door and came in instead of knocking. The sounds of the game I was hoping to watch were droning on in the background.

Of course on cue Lord Vader came into the room and rubbed against her leg. She leaned over and scratched behind his ears. I could hear him purring. Bastard.

"I love him," she said, rubbing his tummy as he rolled on his back. I hated him. Then she glared at me.

"And you... not so much."

I was confused.

"I'm sorry, am I missing something?" I asked as innocently as possible.

She looked at me like I was a moron.

"Did you see the texts I sent you?"

Shit. When I was at the retreat the facilitators didn't allow you to bring your cell phone to the meetings. I forgot to check my messages when I was out of the sessions.

"Why no," I said apologetically. "Are you sure you sent them?"

"I sent two," she said, "telling you that you left the kitchen door unlocked. The storm blew it open and rain came into your kitchen and soaked your kitchen floor and a tree branch gouged your door. I mopped up the mess in the kitchen and had the door repaired and repainted the next day."

"Oh my God," I said. "I feel like an idiot. Thank you for taking care of this."

She seemed to have ignored my comment and forged ahead.

"And since I was in a cleaning mode, I went through the rest of your house. It was an unholy mess."

"I'm sorry. I've kind of gotten lax with my housekeeping since the divorce."

I didn't tell her I was lax with housekeeping before the divorce.

So here was this beautiful woman that I secretly lusted after discovering I was a fat messy slob. Great.

"I found something interesting in your office," she said out of the blue.

My office? My office was always locked when I was away on business. I wondered how she could have gotten in.

"My office?" I asked.

"Yes, your office," she said, overlooking the fact it was locked.

I stood there dumbfounded and perplexed. What the fuck was she talking about?

"So you know what I found?"

Uh oh. I was still in a bit of a state of shock seeing Allison and answering her questions completely unprepared and in awe of her beauty. Lord Vader was now rubbing against my leg, bringing attention to the burgeoning erection in my pants. Both my body and my cat conspired to embarrass me.

"No," I said, not thinking clearly. Allison cleared up my confusion.

"A survey," she said smugly.

Oh fuck. No.

"It was yours wasn't it? You filled in the answers."

Double fuck. My instinct was to deny. But I never had a poker face and Allison was apparently good at reading facial expressions.

"Don't fucking lie to me David. I know what you said."

Oh my fucking God. I was like an open book with her. She had apparently read the entire survey. It was obvious I filled it out. For crying out loud, even though there was no name on it, in the personal section I gave my age, sex, city and state.

"OK. It was mine," I admitted. "How did you get it?"

"How did I get it? You left the fucking key to your office on your dresser. You're either an idiot or you wanted me to find it. Which is it David?"

She was right. I remembered I did leave the key on the dresser. I usually took it with me or put it away in my underwear drawer. Did I want her to find it? I started doubting myself. I could feel my heart beating in my chest.

"I must have wanted you to find it," I finally confessed. I could have probably also confessed to being an idiot as well.

"About the survey..." I said, trying to think of an excuse, like I was high or drunk.

She wasn't listening to me as she reached over for her purse. She pulled out a wrinkled document that'd been folded in half. She unfolded it in front of my face. I could see handwriting all over it. The handwriting wasn't mine.

"You mean this one?"

My knees went weak. Oh fuck. It was indeed the survey I filled in right before I left on my business trip. The night before I left I was watching porn and surfing BDSM websites when I came upon an anonymous survey that told you whether you were a dominant or a submissive. It asked about all kinds of weird sexual practices. I'd seen a lot of it in porn so I was familiar with much of it, but some of it I had to look up. My ex-wife didn't do any of this stuff with me. It was twenty years of missionary sex with a blow job thrown in every now and again.

But my tastes evolved while I was married and went in a decidedly darker direction. I wanted to explore my submissive fantasies but lacked a willing partner. I masturbated to male submission videos and in the process acquired some very kinky tastes. The survey took me through every conceivable sexual practice and I answered each of the fifty questions fully and truthfully. The survey had a scale from 1 to 100, with 100 being very submissive and 1 being very dominant. I scored high, very high.

She held out the paper and waited impatiently until I answered. I felt compelled to tell the truth.

"Yes," I mumbled sheepishly.

"You are one sick fuck," she said in a matter-of-fact fashion.

"Uh huh," I grunted in agreement.

"I didn't hear you," she said.

"Yes I am," I said meekly.

"You're what David?"

I'm sure she just wanted to hear me say it out loud. What I was.

"I'm one sick fuck Allison."

"And also apparently a forgetful one. You told me you'd check your text messages."

Back to that. "I'm sorry," I said. "I forgot and I apologize."

"I think your apology would be more heartfelt if you were on your knees." She said it as if she was expecting me to comply.

"Excuse me?" I asked. Her request seemed sexual in nature and that excited me. Maybe my answers in the survey excited her.

"You heard me," she said. She knew I had. Her tone of voice reinforced my thought that she was turned on by my answers in the survey. She brooked no argument from me.

Instead of doing or saying anything I stood there like a dumbass.

"Well?" she asked. Her hands were on her hips. She wasn't going to take any shit from me.

I dropped to my knees. The hard wooden floor felt good. Lord Vader came over and rubbed his head against my arm. He was no dummy. He knew something was up and wanted to be a part of it.

"That's better," she said.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

"Apology not accepted," she replied.

"Why not?" I asked, starting to stand.

"Did I tell you that you could get up?" she asked me in a very accusatory tone. It was a sharp correction and she made me feel like I'd done something wrong. Very wrong. It was a sinking feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. Did I like that feeling? My cock was hard as a rock so I guess that was a yes.

I sunk back to my knees, ashamed. The shame I felt was a powerful emotion. Allison was making me feel that way.

"No," I said softly. She was imposing her will over me.

"So let's get something straight. Nothing is off limits in this house to me. Nothing. The office is to remain unlocked and I'm going to keep your house key. Is that clear?"

"Yes," I replied. I wasn't going to refuse her.

"You'll be interested to know that I took the survey as well. I scored high as a dominant. I have to thank you for helping me learn a little bit more about myself. My ex-husband never had any interest in the things in the survey, but you obviously do. I took the liberty of watching the videos you saved on your laptop. I was like "wow," you really are fucked up."

Jesus. She hacked into my personal laptop too.

"Oh yeah. You should have really use a more secure password. "LordVader." Really? I changed it so now you'll have to ask me to use your personal computer."

I was looking for a hole to crawl into.

"You want to know about the notes on your survey? They're mine and it's all the stuff I'm planning on doing to you. Even the stuff I find disgusting, like pissing in your mouth. You scored a 96. A fucking 96. You are one sick fuck but I guess I am too. A twisted form of kismet... a marriage made in heaven... or maybe in hell."

Then she leaned over so her pretty face was inches from my mug. I could smell her perfume and the natural scent of her body. I couldn't believe how much I wanted her.

"You left out the survey for me to find because you wanted me to do all of this to you, didn't you? But you didn't know that I wanted to do these things to you. I want to watch your face when I squeeze your balls in my fist. Or maybe fuck you in the ass with a strap on. So now it's truth or dare time. You've put it all down on paper in excruciating detail. Is this what you want? From me?"

Her words hung over me like a sword of Damocles. It was put up or shut up time. I'd explained in the survey in graphic detail all of my darkest desires. Pegging. Piss play. Edging and orgasm denial. Collaring. Bondage. Spanking and flogging. Foot and ass worship. Basically every perverted act that was dreamed up by the survey creators. I felt like the dog who caught the bus. I couldn't breathe. It felt like she weighed 1,000 pounds and was sitting on my chest. She was sucking all the oxygen out of the room.

"Yes," I finally choked out.

She gave me a knowing smile, a smarmy smile. She was attractive on the outside but inside I knew there was something as dark as what was in my soul. I thought it was a pity that she knew everything about me and I knew nothing about her. But maybe that was part of the journey. A journey of discovery. Who she was. I think I already knew who I was. I put it down on paper.

My eyes were only inches from hers. She had beautiful white teeth that she flashed when her eyes bore into mine, telling me who was calling the shots.

"So kiss my shoe. Do it... fuck boy. Show your respect," she said with a snarl.

An invisible hand pushed my head down to her canvas deck shoe. I planted a loving kiss on the rubber tip and then swabbed shoe's upper with my tongue for good measure. She was standing over me, watching me. I looked up at her with want in my eyes.

"That's good," she said, patting me on the head. "Now tell me what you want to be... fuck boy."

She had me the first time she said it. Fuck boy. That was me.

"I want to be your fuck boy Allison."

"That's Miss Allison," she said, correcting me with her new title, which meant everything to me.

"I want to be your fuck boy Miss Allison," I said clearly and without hesitation.

This hot talk and the prospect of Miss Allison helping me act out all my fantasies aroused me to no end. This was the most exciting moment in my life. I didn't realize my hand was sliding into my pants and under the waistband of my boxer shorts.

"No fucking touching yourself, fuck boy!" she barked at me. My hand came out of my pants like they were on fire. I was snorting through my nose.

I could hear Miss Allison breathing harder. She was getting off on this too. I had no idea she was into the same fucked up shit I found surfing internet porn, but she was, clearly. I didn't know if I was ever going to have sex with her but I did know I was going to subjugate myself to her, and that was enough reward in and of itself. I had given her the roadmap and she was in the driver's seat.

"Shirt off, t-shirt too, hand them to me now," she said with newfound confidence.

"Yes Miss Allison."

Still kneeling, my hands were shaking as I unbuttoned my plaid shirt and tugged off the green t-shirt under it, folding them carefully and offering the bundle to her as a token of my fealty to her. Unfortunately there was no hiding the extra twenty pounds of my round belly. I was a balding, bearded older guy on my knees, not a handsome young man like the ones in a porn video.

She took the clothes from me and could see I couldn't stop the tremors in my hands. She slapped the top of my hands, the sting getting my attention.

"Hands behind you. Hold still damn it."

Miss Allison jerked the t-shirt over my head like a hood, then went behind me to use the long sleeves of my shirt to tie my wrists loosely together. Everything went black and I could feel my hot breath surrounding my face. She reached around me to tug my hardening nipples, hefting the weight of my breasts, and handling me like a piece of livestock.

"So, here we are David, three minutes into the rest of your life. Does this check some boxes for you? Submission, forced to undress, tied, blindfolded, nipple play, and some punishment, all things you score high on in that survey. Are you excited now?"

"Yes Miss Allison, thank you," I uttered in all sincerity. My voice was muffled by the makeshift hood.

"Think about what you are now, David, and where this may go. I have to go now but I'll be back in an hour or so. Stay just as you are for ten minutes, hooded and tied, bare chested and on your knees. Think about serving my needs, whatever that might mean. When I come back, I want you to be showered and wearing only jeans, no shoes or shirt, nothing under them. We'll find new things to explore."

She started to leave and then stopped.

"And David?"

"Yes, Miss Allison."

"No whacking off... capiche?"

She already knew I was a weak person when it came to my impulses.

"Yes Miss Allison," I answered.

I waited as I heard her go out, counting the minutes until I stumbled to my feet. I was hard and aroused as I showered and then dressed for her. This was half of the long-held fantasy I had, to be used and controlled, but it was missing the leather-clad Domme I had imagined in fishnet stockings and thigh high boots with stiletto heels. This was no dungeon setting, just my own familiar house in a drab suburban setting, but Miss Allison had tapped into my mind... and she knew exactly what I wanted.