Rosa subrosa

I first saw Rosa on a kinky-sex dating site. I, as a 35-year-old recent divorcee, had visited it "just out of curiosity" -- or was it rather because I sought a little titillation? I certainly never expected it to lead to anything. I just thought I'd peruse some photos and fantasize about meeting some off-beat women. I ended up beating off looking at a few of them in tantalizing poses, or maybe just because their faces looked really sexy.

I tended to look at women there who were young and curvaceous; wearing sexy bras and panties helped. Maybe holding a whip (thrill!) or maybe just showing their pussy (usually poor photography and not much of a turnon). Or I checked out the gay sections with either men or women (I'm always curious, OK? -- but men, unless they're very pretty, don't do much for me).

And then one night after work, after dinner alone, I was scanning photos again and I must've looked at more than 50 when I almost skipped over one. Caught my jaded eye. I clicked on it. It was a woman calling herself Rosa. She had short black hair and a rather masculine face and was sitting on a pad outside, leaning backward, supported by her arms. Her body was middle-age ample, but not actually overweight. Best of all, she was wearing a black, somewhat transparent corselette, with, I suppose you'd call them, legs. That is, it wasn't an open-bottom corselette. Her fairly large boobs projected out nicely at the top, held by transparent cups with lace-like embroidery. If I were to guess, I'd say she was a 40C or D.

In my internet travels, I admit, I had become very particular about the boob-size I liked. Hers were close to my ideal.

Down the center of the girdle-corset was a heavily embroidered panel that ended up running down between her legs. Apparently she was also wearing nylons.

Besides her bodily attractiveness and her willingness to show herself so provocatively (provocatively to me anyway) there was her facial expression. I detected a forwardness; this is a woman you don't toy with, I thought. This is a woman who knows what she wants.

I printed out her photo on nice photo paper and admit I beat off a couple times fantasizing about her.

Then something clicked in me, almost involuntarily, and I abandoned my previous MO of just admiring women on the site from a distance.

Yes, I actually plunked down money to join the site to enable communications with women there. I set up my own page, being careful not to divulge all my little preferences and secrets, but yet not sounding too vanilla, either. I found a five-year-old photo of me to post that was kind to my appearance. The second day I was a full member, I sent notes to Rosa and to another woman. But it was Rosa I fantasized about the most.

And it was Rosa I eventually met, partly because I was happy to find she lived only 30 miles away. One thing led to another and I ended up moving in with her, even though she was 10 years my senior.

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Today I'm arriving "home" to Rosa after my daily commute from work. She's a tax preparer and tax law professional who works out of her home, so she's usually there when I come in the front door.

Today, she's wearing a short black-leather skirt, with darkish nylons and a tailored, tight-fitting white shirt which shows just a hint of black bra underneath. She's still wearing the trim, businesslike eyeglasses she uses for computer work, along with black short-heeled shoes. And there's her thin and stiff little, leather-surfaced whip, kind of like a riding crop, which she calls Emma. My heart beats faster.

"Andy," she says, swatting my ass and then my penis area harshly, "you're late. You know you have a full list of things to do here. It's Tuesday. Better get moving if you want some dinner."

"I'm sorry, Rosa, our meeting went late and then ... "

"I won't hear excuses." She whacks my ass hard again. "Drop your briefcase. Quickly, upstairs."

As we enter our bedroom, I see a shopping bag on the bed, from which Rosa is removing some rather feminine clothing. "Andy, or rather Alicia, how could I forget to call you by your real name? -- I have some new work clothes for cleaning day. I know you'll love them, won't you?"

I hesitate a moment, resulting in another whack to my ass. Rosa: "You don't have to answer, because I know you will absolutely love them, won't you?" She lightly slaps her hand several times with the whip, with a knowing little smile playing on her lips.

I didn't know I was an Alicia when I came to live with Rosa, but she soon grasped all my little tendencies, my little secrets, my desire to be controlled, and she forcefully guided me into becoming exactly what she wanted. And so, at home I am always Alicia. And Alica does housecleaning chores on Tuesdays and Fridays.

"You can throw away the silly maid's outfit you've been wearing. It's so cheap-looking. Here, now put this on and see how it fits."

Well-trained, I automatically put on my bra, insert breast forms, and add panties and pantyhose, which I accomplish with dispatch. (I'm actually kind of proud at how adept I've become at quickly hooking my bra in back and quickly pulling on hose without causing runs -- I would be punished, after all, if I did). The final addition is a dainty, fluffy little petticoat. I'm not even self-conscious anymore, dressing in front of Rosa.

I slip into the black, satin-like maid's dress, which she zips up in back. It has girly white lace trim at the hem and bodice and along the short sleeves, with a couple extra white bows on the skirt and bodice. I like that the waist is elastically gathered and tight. Rosa completes the outfit by tying a matching small apron around the front of the outfit. I slip into some strappy black shoes.

Underneath the petticoat, which spreads out the dress charmingly, I feel a small erection exerting itself within my transparent-plastic chastity device (which I wear 24-7).

I pull on my long-hair, dark-brown wig and insert my earrings. I am now all tricked out as Alicia, the live-in maid.

As is her custom, Rosa attaches a chain hobble to my ankles, just to reinforce my servitude. And inserts the usual ball gag in my mouth, so I'll work quietly. That part of the routine I don't like, because it makes me slobber a little. But it certainly reinforces my servitude.

She hands me the to-do list. As I read it deliberately, she whips my hand severely. "You are being much too slow. You don't have much time. Get started now."

So, I put the list in my dress pocket, and begin by preparing veggies for dinner. That's followed by making our bed, dusting all the blinds, emptying the dishwasher, getting the laundry started, vacuuming, and cleaning the toilet and bathroom sink. Rosa is a real stickler about having a spotless bathroom.

And so, here I am doing all these things in my sexy little dress with my sexy boobs, nyloned legs and maid's shoes. I would never admit to another man that I've come to enjoy the role. However, I've learned to love and gracefully submit to Rosa's womanly power. I've also learned to love wearing tight things and feeling feminine. I admittedly look forward to leaving the masculine world of my job (food warehouse manager) and becoming pretty and subservient. What it boils down to is that at work I confidently give the orders and at home I willingly follow orders. It suits me.

The only direct connection between the two is that I usually wear panties and Rosa's "gift" of chastity device to work. She insists.

At dinnertime, where Rosa prefers to do most of the cooking because it gives her pleasure, she always "allows" me to eat at the same table with her. It's this little game we play. If it's my maid day, she usually compliments me on getting my chores done, but always finds something to fault. She demands perfection.

As we eat, Rosa asks, "Do you like your new maid's dress, Alicia dear?" She uses "dear" to signal she's happy with my performance.

"Why yes, Rosa. It seems to be a perfect fit. I love the lace trim. I'll take very good care of it."

"You better. It was quite expensive; it's not a costume; it's what maids actually wear. You will be severely punished if you soil it."

I'm sitting there eating, enjoying the feeling of my bra and tight hose underneath, and my wig's hair streaming down over my shoulders. I look over at Rosa, across the table from me, and sneak a glance at her black bra underneath her shirt. Her boobs make such sexy protrusions against the cotton fabric. Tonight she's wearing some tiny and sexy silver earrings and just enough mascara to make her eyes look sexy. Then there's her semi-masculine facial appearance: it does something for me.

An hour later we're watching a movie on TV -- her pick, of course. Now we're wearing cotton nighties over corselettes -- hers, black -- mine, white. Both are Rago -- her favorite. Rosa's photo on the dating site was telling. She absolutely loves to wear the long, all-encompassing girdles, and I naturally love to see her in them. My own corselette, which she selected, provides an all-over tightness that makes me feel warmly secure.

After a few minutes she beckons me to move over on the sofa next to her (believe it or not, I'm still wearing the hobble chain -- I guess it's kind of a talisman of our relationship). She lays my head in her lap and begins stroking my wig-hair.

"I will soon be buying you some perfume, Alicia. You still have a little man-smell about you, which we must erase. Isn't that right, my love?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Because if you didn't like it, you'd still dab some on daily, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Because if you don't follow all my directions down to the last detail, you will receive the thrashing of your life."

"I know. I strive to be perfect, I really do."

My head is right over her cunt, two layers of lingerie below. I can feel a certain heat rising from down there, and even a slight fragrance. And above my head loom her two cupped tits which radiate a certain warmth as well. I feel completely relaxed and at home, like I'm Rosa's daughter, and she shelters and protects me. This definitely makes my sexual juices flow.

Knowing her cunt's so close, I would love to kiss it, touch it, explore it -- worship it. And I know she knows what I'm thinking. I love it that she's teasing me a little by placing her hand lightly over my chastity device, which extends a little beyond my open-bottom Rago.

"Alicia, dear, you haven't been trying to play with your little dickey, have you?"

"Oh, no, Rosa," I murmur. "You own my weenie," -- I nervously laugh a little -- "so I'm very happy to let you decide when it gets released, and when it spurts."

Since we've lived together, for three months now, I've come only twice. Both times, Rosa chose the time and place and insisted upon watching me. They were the most intense climaxes and spurt-sessions I've ever experienced. But after each, my mistress whipped my fanny with Emma because she said I had enjoyed it too much. So with Rosa I always associate pleasure with pain. The two seem to complement each other. Each feeds the other.

After the TV movie's end, and having smoked some weed together, we prepare for bed by removing our corselettes, and stepping into our nighties again. My wig comes off. And we resume our usual: in her large king-size bed I am one-hand- and one-ankle-cuffed to the top and bottom on one side, while she has the full range of the remainder of the bed. I have to be careful not to drink much before bedtime, because she won't release me to go pee. I suppose that's another of her teases and torments.

She turns the lights out and the room's totally dark. I really ache to fuck her. My heat-seeking missile would like nothing better than to enter her vagina and cum, cum, cum. Or have her suck me off, or something.

Then my mind returns to my ex-wive: my exasperation with her free-spending ways versus my conservative financial habits. And yet, we stayed together so long because our sex was so good; her body was so gorgeous, and we'd try just about every sexual variation and position you can imagine. I can even remember the time she tied me to a chair and put nylons and a bra and lipstick on me, and then sat on my dick and did me, never quite allowing me to come for an hour. A rehearsal for meeting Rosa!

But when my ex drove us into bankruptcy, that all ended.

So as I lie there in the dark thinking about all things sexual, Rosa slithers slowly and indolently over toward me and whispers, "What are you thinking about, dear?"

"Ah ... about you."

"What about me?"

I tread lightly here, because I don't want the room lights coming on in a flash, and the leather-covered Emma coming alive to thrash my ass, or back, or thighs or the bottoms of my feet. Emma has known them all.

"Oh, it's just that I'm attracted to you, you know. You're a beautiful and powerful woman."

"And what would you like to do with me?" Rosa whispers, slyly.

"I'd like to explore your parts with my tongue," I admit.

Louder: "What? Whoever gave you permission to even think of such a thing? Don't ever even imagine touching me sexually. You're just lucky, miss Alicia, that I allow you to live here and serve me."

"Forgive me, Rosa. I was out of line, and I guess out of control. I will keep my thoughts elsewhere."

"Remember, Alicia, I keep you in chastity and hobbled, and secured here in bed for the best reasons. For your own well-being, I won't allow your male sex urges to run rampant. You are here only to serve me and endeavor to make me happy. I'll absolutely keep you in line ... Alicia."

"I know." And I begin to cry. A grown man crying! This woman has tapped into something so deep within me that I hardly recognize myself. But at the same time I feel totally cleansed and light, as though I've released some psychic pressure.

"It will all be OK," assures Rosa, slightly moved by my emotions. With that, we both fall asleep.

Hours later, around 4 a.m., I have a dream. Starring Rosa. She's witchlike, all in black (with the cups of her black corselette peering out from underneath her somewhat tattered coat). Also peering out is a rather large, black, strap-on dildo. She forces me down on my knees to take the glistening dong in my mouth and then laughs (like a stereotypical witch, of course) as she thrusts in and out, making me gag. She grabs my head as she thrusts even more forcibly, and I gag even more, until I have to pull away to get air.

Then, as crazy as dreams can get, she is simultaneously fucking me in the ass, while I fuck her cunt. I pump faster and faster and become infused with warmth and colors, until I wake up.

I soon feel a wetness and stickiness down around my midsection. I realize that I have had my second wet dream during my slavehood to Rosa, while wearing my chastity sheath. I will have to find a way to wash the device and sheets before she finds out what happened.

Despite all of Rosa's admonitions, threats, wielding of Emma, and stated distaste of male sex, relations between us do evolve. Maybe it's because I'm so malleable and easygoing.

One TV-watching night, we're watching a movie in the nearly dark living room. It's about two women best friends who eventually kiss and fondle each other. I can tell Rosa's getting turned out because she starts laughing when the scenes get steamy and, with my head on her lap as usual, I feel even more heat emanating from her body.

As I lay there acutely aware of all this, her hand travels down to what must be her cunt. I hear snaps opening and then I smell her sexual fragrances. Then there's the sound of her playing with herself with slick, wet fingering. Soon, she takes some quick deep breaths, shudders, moans deeply, and lays back.

"Oh, Alicia, dear," she finally says, a little out of breath, "Oh Alicia, that was so perfect, you know. We should seek out more movies like this, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes, I was turned on too."

"Well, I don't give a damn about your sexual tastes. But here ..." -- and with that, she pushes my head down into her crotch, into the area exposed by the unsnapped corselette, into some wet public hair and pungent bodily perfume -- "Alicia, use your tongue on me."

I do this, amazed that she's overturned her own admonition not to touch her, and so I run my tongue the wonderful length of her warm pubic lips, pushing it in as far as it will go. I have to push my wig's hair carefully to the side to accomplish this. As I work my way north, I insert a finger into her wet vagina slowly. When my tongue finally reaches her clit, she suddenly thrusts her midsection up against my mouth several times and shudders again.

"Take your finger out," she orders.

Which I do. But I know that now I've assumed some small degree of power over her. What an interesting balancing act has just occurred between us! I love it.

However, the next day when I arrive back home after work, Rosa's Emma has her painful way with me before I can dress as Rosa's girl in a non-maid dress. "This is just so you don't think you're one up on me," says Rosa. "Don't think that we're in love or some stupid thing. Understand?"

"Yes. Completely. I'm only here to serve you. I have no expectations."

And yet, during the next day's night in bed, with me shackled as usual, Rosa eventually slides over again and starts playing with my nipples, through my nightdress. I involuntarily murmur and my body begins to writhe a little. It's intensely exciting.

"Don't get all worked up, Alicia, dear. Just the way I'm touching you now, that's the way you will touch me now. Understood?"

And so she moves over so I can use my free hand to lightly trace circles around her large nipples, and then I put a finger atop a nipple and lightly move it about, and then flip it a little -- all of which she finds very pleasing. Then she quickly pulls her nightie up over her tits and without her saying a word, I affix my lips around a nipple while cupping her breast with my free hand. I first tongue the nipple, then suck it. I love the taste! I'd swear, my penis is about ready to burst out of its containment.

Again, I hear the sound of her fingering herself, and another quick, explosive climax. She pulls her nightie down again, turns quiet and happy and is soon asleep. Meanwhile, I lay there, ready to burst, somewhat tense. I run my hand down to my cock in its plastic cage, all sweaty and wet with pre-cum. I wait until Rosa begins to lightly snore, and then shake that containment, and shake it some more, until, for the first time since wearing it, I have spanked the monkey to climax!

Time to wash the sheets again.

From this beginning, Rosa and I evolve our relationship. I learn some things about her. She never wants me to see her entirely in the buff. She must think her body is no longer youthful enough. That's one of the reasons she wears the corselette so much, and why when we play, it's in the dark of her bedroom.

That's OK; I am very turned on by seeing her in a corset. I'm turned on my seeing myself in a corset, as a matter of fact ...

We never have traditional male/female sex. There must be something in her past she's unwilling to tell me about -- rape or incest, or maybe it's just that men and their appendages turn her off.

As long as I come home and instantly become Alicia, we're friends and lovers. We're corselette lovers ... We have a collection. I've now grown my hair long enough so that wigs are no longer needed. At work, it's in a ponytail.

Over time, I manage to take Rosa to new places. Eventually, she welcomes my finger in her vagina. And after months, it's OK to fuck her with a hand-held dildo. Finally, she accepts me wearing a strap-on dildo, and banging her, like I'm her lesbian lover.

I hope to eventually get her to the place where she will fuck me with that strap-on, but it hasn't happened yet. However, she will from time to time place a vibrator against my penis in its cage which always brings great spurts.