Mistress Mom Ch. 1 of 2

PART ONE: NEGOTIATION

"Well, this is awkward." I heard a voice behind me.

I was sitting by a table at a local BDSM club, where Mistress Anne had arranged for us to meet. It was months in the making. We had met online on a forum dedicated to all things BDSM, and as we started chatting, it soon became clear to both of us that we had some real chemistry going on. She seemed perfect for me - an older woman with years of experience as a dominatrix; mature, intelligent... and sexy as hell. She even knew the owners of this place, and arranged for them to contact me with their details so that I could gain access for the evening even though I wasn't a member.

Me, a guy in my early twenties, a neophyte with little to no experience with this kind of scene ... I could hardly imagine how lucky I was to be mentored by a woman like her. But she was willing. She had talked to me for hours online, telling me about her philosophies and giving advice on all sorts of things - from dating people in the scene to which clubs I should visit. We had talked about our interests, our dos and don'ts, how we felt about current events and lots more. She seemed to know everything about everything, and was so open-minded that she really got me to open up to her about the things that got me curious and excited. Just a few weeks in, I had told her all about my deepest desires and even my most embarrassing fantasies.

She was attractive too. Her profile page didn't really show much of her face, but her body, her posture, her BDSM-related outfits... she was hot as all hell. Not to mention the fact that she seemed to be involved with several other people. There were photos of her having sessions with both girls and guys - I assumed she probably had people running down her doors. She was so above my league that when I humbly asked whether she would consider taking me on as a submissive, I knew it was a long shot. An extremely long shot. When she then said 'yes', I almost fell off my chair.

So we set up a meeting and here I was, at the club where she apparently felt right at home. A place where like-minded people wandered around in BDSM/fetish gear, laughing and chatting before retiring to the private play rooms with their partners. I'd heard a lot about places like this. I'd even been to one once, for a munch, just to meet some people with similar interests.

This one was pretty nice; a sort of cafeteria in the front, BDSM club in the back. To get your waffles, coffees or other beverages, or to simply sit and talk, spend some time in the front section. To get your kink on, head on in to the back and visit the various rooms full of special furniture and 'tools' appropriate for whatever your heart desires.

I sat in the front section, nursing a glass of Coke while waiting anxiously for Mistress Anne to arrive. The owner was behind the bar, handing out non-alcoholic drinks. He seemed really nice; when I arrived, he took a minute to talk to me and also directed me to a free table in a corner, slightly hidden away so that the new guy didn't have to sit all exposed in the middle of the room.

I had butterflies in my stomach. I'd been on blind dates before, but this was special. She was so awesome, I felt like I was scheduled to meet a movie star. She'd be sure to find me, as the owner knew who I was and where I was sitting. I was also wearing a normal white shirt like she'd told me to, and most other people here were wearing elaborate outfits of leather or latex. I was getting more and more nervous as the hour of our rendezvous approached. Then I heard steps coming up to the table, followed by the sound of that awfully familiar voice.

I was in shock. I couldn't believe what was happening. Mistress Anne sat down at the other side of the table, looking at me with a pair of beautiful blue eyes that I knew only too well.

"Mom?"

"Hello, Michael."

"Mom?!"

"Lower your voice, please. The music isn't that loud."

"You're Mistress Anne?"

"Yes..." she sighed. "And you're that nice young man I've been talking to. Like I said: awkward."

We sat still for a few moments, having a quiet drink without talking, just letting everything sink in. Okay... so my mom was a dominatrix. To say I was surprised would have been the understatement of the year. She had divorced my dad years ago, and after I started college, I didn't see my family more than a few times a year, but I still had no idea she was into anything like this. And that she was such a big part of the community - apparently had been for years? I was just shell-shocked.

"So... you've found your way into the lifestyle." she said, finally. "I guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

"No... yeah... sorry, I'm just..."

"Surprised, yes. Me too. I must say this isn't who I expected to meet. You said your name was Mike and that you lived here in New York, but I didn't imagine ... honestly, I had no idea you were interested in BDSM."

"Yeah, same here... And you're, like, a big part of this!"

"I am somewhat well known around here, yes. I've been in the lifestyle for years."

She took a sip from her glass. I looked at her. She was wearing a black leather corset, black gloves, knee-high boots and a tight leather skirt. Her blouse was red, classy and suited her perfectly. She also carried a riding crop, which she had placed on the table when she sat down. Her whole attire was a perfect blend of assertive and sexy.

"Wow, that outfit is..."

"Different from what I normally wear?"

"I was going to say 'awesome', but..."

"Thank you." she said with a slight smile. "I do try to make an effort."

We sat and talked for a while. It was clear that we had a lot of catching up to do. She wanted to know more about what experiences I'd had, I wanted to know more about how she managed to juggle this lifestyle with her job and family life.

"It's not easy..." she said, "... but most people here are discreet. You've already seen the 'no cameras' signs in the club, and we're pretty protective of each other in terms of members getting outed. That's just not acceptable. Some people are public, but with my job... well, you just know there'd be people looking to make a fuss. And I just find it easier to fly under the radar. That means people don't suspect anything. After all, you didn't."

"No, not at all."

"So tell me more about you." she said. "How did you get into this?"

"It just developed over time, I think. Reading about stuff online, stuff like that."

"Experiences?"

"Not much. A couple of girls who liked handcuffs and stuff like that, but..."

"What made you think you're a sub? It wasn't that girl Chrissy, was it...?"

"What? No, she was... bossy. Not sexually or anything. She was just a... well, a bitch, if you'll excuse my French."

"I will. Because I agree. She wasn't very nice. So...?"

"I'm not sure. I think it's just ... the things I like. They're ... more in that direction than the other one. My fantasies, I mean. But you already know about those, I guess."

"Oh yes, they were ... exciting reading. But you said you'd been with one domina already, isn't that right? How did that go?"

"Oh, uh... well, like I said in the chat... not too bad, I think. She did mostly bondage stuff, and that was pretty hot... But it was mostly about the sex part. You know, just expanding on the sex, adding on ropes and paddles... I'd like to explore more of the non-sexual kinks as well. Also, she lives far away and we're both pretty busy... that's why I'm looking for someone closer to home. Someone I can see more often. Someone with experience who can show me things I've only ever read about. I mean... someone like you."

For a second, I thought I could see a smile in the corner of her mouth. As we sat there and talked some more about each other's interests and experiences, I started to feel like this was how the date was supposed to have gone. These were the kind of things we were supposed to be talking about; we were supposed to talk about bondage, leather outfits and different types of whips, not how we were hiding these things from our family members. The more we talked, the more I felt like I wanted to return to plan A.

"So... do you want me to show you around the place? Maybe you should consider becoming a member?" she eventually said, starting to round off the conversation.

"Look..."

"Yes?"

I decided not to beat around the bush. We were both adults. I was just going to be honest and tell her what I wanted. I figured the worst that could happen was that she said no.

"Mistress Anne..."

She gave me a stern look, but I continued:

"Is there any way we can make this work?"

Her face changed into one of pure surprise. She seemed completely taken aback and said nothing in response - she just looked at me as if I'd told her I was an alien or something. I went on, trying not to sound like I was rambling.

"I value the talks we've had very highly and I felt honored that you agreed to meet with me... that you'd even consider taking an inexperienced guy like me as your submissive was ... wild. I still feel that way. It doesn't have to be sexual, so our relation doesn't have to get in the way ... With your wealth of experience, knowledge about the community... types of play, what to do and what not to do ... As I see it, you're the perfect person to teach me more about all this ... stuff."

"You don't say ..." she mumbled, while I kept going.

"We also both know that trust is a vital part of BDSM. If I'm going to let somebody tie me up, expose myself and place myself in a position where they can do whatever they want to me ... I mean, that would have to be a person I really trust. So I think the fact that it was you who came through the door today ... it's good news, really. Because I can't think of anybody I trust more than you."

Mom sat still, listening to what I was saying, like a judge listening to a lawyer pleading their case. Eventually, she leaned towards me and replied:

"Let me get this straight: you chat with an unknown woman online for two months, develop a desire to submit to her in BDSM role play, work up the courage to meet with her, and when you find out that the woman is your own mother ... you still want to do that?"

"Yes."

"I see."

She leaned back in her seat. My eyes slipped down towards her breasts as she moved, but I did my best to keep her gaze when she looked at me. I tried to read her, see if I could tell what she was thinking. She didn't seem upset or aghast, it was more like she wasn't sure what to think of all this. I couldn't tell if she was considering it or if she was just trying to find the words to let me down easily. I tried pleading my case yet again.

"Thing is, I feel like we've really made a connection. Like there was a real spark between us, you know? During our conversations... the chemistry ... I mean... the way we both think, the interests we have in common, the ideas of what sort of things would be fun and exciting to do ... it all felt like a really good fit, you know? Or... did I read that wrong?"

Seconds ticked by. At first, she said nothing, but I didn't feel like I should say anything more at this point. I had to wait for her to speak. Finally, she did.

"You did not."

I smiled, sensing that I might be making some headway.

"Mistress..."

"Stop." she said, abruptly, holding her hand up, palm facing me. She stared at me with a calm, yet determined look in her eyes. I already knew what I'd done wrong.

"Sorry, I..."

"You do not call me 'mistress' ... yet."

"I know. I ... should know better. That was ... that was rude. I apologize."

"Good."

"Taking a submissive is a big responsibility, you've told me that... I should only address a person that way if she has agreed to take me on, and you haven't. Again, I apologize."

At this point, she smiled.

"You really are serious about this, aren't you?"

"I am."

She leaned in closer to me. Once again, my eyes slipped involuntarily down towards her impressive bust, but I forced my eyes back up to meet hers as she looked at me.

"Michael..."

"Yes?"

"Do you know why I haven't shot you down already?"

"No...?"

"It's not because I'm afraid of hurting you. I know you. You're strong. You can take it. Rejection just makes you work harder."

"Sure."

She leaned in even closer, causing my gaze to drop down towards her cleavage once more, before I forced it back up again. My mother had a beautiful face too, not just great tits - I should be able to look at her without staring at her breasts. She went on:

"It's because you're right. The online chemistry was great. Better than I've had with anyone in a long time. And trust me, it's been a long time. Five years I've spent, looking for a young male sub. Five years! You have no idea the amount of messages and requests dommes like me get from eager tail-wagging pups, they sometimes number in the hundreds per day! Usually, they have no idea what they're doing. Either they're immature pricks... or they have a completely misconstrued idea of what a D/s relationship is about, or they're obsessed with the sexual aspect of it... or they have no idea what they want. Those that do make it over the first hurdle... well, so far they've failed to meet my standards. Some are flakes, some can't be trusted, some are idiots... These people are so frustrating to deal with that after a while, I give up and have to take a break from the search. And then ... then came you."

I listened intently. She was becoming more and more enthusiastic as she went on:

"You were polite, which is a good start. You did your own research instead of expecting me to spend time and energy educating you on every little thing, which showed me that you're considerate. You also seem reliable - at least you turned up for our first meeting; a lot of people talk big when they're hiding behind a computer screen, then back out when it comes to actually meeting up. Also, you were mature, able to have a conversation with a woman without stampeding towards the sex talk. I think about 90% of the messages we women get on these websites go along the lines of: "Hey. Wanna fuck?" You started out by spending a whole evening chatting with me about how much you loved my kinky outfit. An outfit I worked hard on and spent lots of time putting together. That was something I really appreciated, being able to talk to a young, handsome guy about something other than my sexual preferences. Not that I dislike talking about that, it's just... ughh... some people..."

My hand was getting cold from holding my glass; I'd been about to take a swig from it, but I just couldn't move my attention away from her right now. She was drawing me in, like a moth to a flame.

"And then there's the kicker. You remember when we started chatting suggestively about maybe doing something... You know, fantasizing a bit... What did you do? Agree to any suggestion I made? Say you'd be up for absolutely anything? No. You set limits. Limits for me to adhere to. That showed me that you're not diving into this without thinking. And you made suggestions for activities that didn't involve sex... so I thought: here's a guy who finally understands that this is about more than just getting his dick wet."

She finally leaned back and took a breath. I drank from my glass and put it down. I was awestruck by the amount of praise she had dished out on me, I almost felt overwhelmed. Summarizing, she finally answered her own question.

"The reason we're still talking, Michael, is that before I came here, I had already decided to take you. If the real-life chemistry was as good as it was online, that is. I said to myself: if the man sitting in this club is the same man I've had such a good time talking to online, I'll be more than happy to have him."

"Wow..." I mumbled, still staggered.

"And therein lies the problem."

"The... problem...?"

"Yes. Obviously, you're not the same man I thought I was talking to. I had no idea I was talking to my own son. So no, you're not that."

My heart started sinking, and I tried to steel myself for the disappointment. Still, there was a small glimmer of hope to cling on to...

"We're still talking about it, though...?" I asked, carefully.

"Yes. Because you also are that man. When I came in and Greg pointed me to this table... and I saw that it was you ... I almost ... well, let's just say I was more than a little disappointed. Suddenly, all my hopes and plans collapsed."

"Yeah, I get that. I felt the same way..."

"But we're still talking! Because ... just as I dismissed the idea and started processing my disappointment of losing a sub with great potential, you take the initiative and ask if there's any way we can make this work? I mean, what the hell? You didn't whine about it like an immature douche bag, you didn't run out in a panic ... I mean, that's what those other pricks would do. You give me a whole speech about how great I am and how important trust is in BDSM relationships... Seriously, Michael, why the hell are you not collared by some other domme already?"

So that was it - she was impressed! My heart started beating faster as the feeling of joy spread through me. Mistress Anne, the object of desire for so many men out there ... she was impressed with my efforts. She said that guys like me were attractive ... that she had been looking for someone like me for so long that she was actually considering overlooking the fact that I was her son. I couldn't help but smile, even though I could tell that she was still struggling with the difficulty of this whole situation.

"I have to say, I'm really impressed with you, Michael - you've never done this before, and still... I mean, you're showing a level of maturity way beyond your years. If this doesn't work out between you and me, I definitely want to pass your name on to a couple of friends of mine. We gotta get you into this lifestyle, you are so right for it."

"Well... thank you. I really appreciate your guidance."

"There's still the familial relation, though..." she muttered, partly to herself. "Not sure we could get past that..."

"Does it matter? If so, why? Because it feels strange, or...?"

"There's sex involved, Michael."

"There doesn't have to be, right?"

"No..." she said, looking thoughtful. "...but there may at times be a sexual element. I might want to use toys on you... edge you, or even administer forced orgasms ... It may not be sex in the traditional sense, but ..."

"You're worried that you won't feel comfortable doing that."

"Yes.."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to do something you don't feel comfortable with..."

"There you go again, being mature. Even if it means not getting what you want. It's not just me, though, I'd also worry about how you feel about it."

"I think I could handle it."

"Are you sure? Because your eyes are drifting over my body every time I lean in close to you."

She smiled playfully at me as I felt my cheeks blush. Busted. It was true - I had been checking her out. Her body looked really hot in that outfit; breasts pushing against the blouse, corset enhancing her natural hourglass figure ...

"I bet you have an erection right now, don't you?" she teased.

"Can you blame me? You look so good in that outfit." I replied, bravely.

"I know that. And no, I don't blame you - you're a man, of course you're going to stare when I show off my breasts. And before you ask: yes, I did that on purpose. That's the sort of thing I like to do - I tease, I play, I make men feel frustrated that they can't have me. And you really can't have me. Not like that, anyway. Question is whether that's what we want."