The Diary of Mistress X

"Did you want to learn more about yourself?"

This was more than a house tour. I thought she might be interested in me. Her invitation confirmed it. But my reservations outside her gate came to the fore. Did I really want to know more about myself? The dark side? It was too tempting. Mistress Arlene gave me a glimpse.

"I do." I said it firmly and clearly with as much dignity as I could muster sitting fully clothed in her bath tub.

"Then ...?"

She was staring down at me, laying in her tub, wearing her clothes. I used my hands on each side of the tub to push myself up so I could get out of the tub. She helped me get out.

I started unbuttoning my blouse. The first button flew open and most of my bra was already exposed. Before I could continue her hand covered mine.

"Let me help you with that. But first wait." She went around me and plugged the drain and started running the water. The water was gushing into the tub as she circled back in front of me. I thought about what she would look like nude. The thought excited me. I would see all of her soon. I was afraid the damp spot in my panties was growing. I squeezed my knees together, willing my pussy to stop leaking.

She reached forward and unbuttoned one of the remaining buttons, and then the last one, deftly pulling the silk blouse open and then off as I helped her by turning my shoulders. She paused for a moment to look at me, my nipples threatening to break through the lacey material of my bra. She then reached behind me, unclasping my bra. I shrugged my shoulders to allow her to slip off the straps and my bra fell forward, her holding it in one hand. She regarded my breasts, and then ran the back of her right hand against the side of my left breast, pressing against it so my breasts were touching each other. I let out a contented sigh.

She helped me shimmy out of my/her form fitting jeans so I was standing there only in my socks and sopping wet panties. There was an obvious dark patch on my white bikini briefs. She hooked her fingers inside the waistband and slid them down my legs. I stepped out of them. She knelt and removed my socks and then picked up my panties. I was nude, and she still had all her clothes on. She wadded up the soiled panties into in fist and held her hand in front of her nose.

"You're wet," she said, stating the obvious. She smelled the panties. Again the knowing smile.

"You seem to have that effect on women," I observed.

"I guess I do. You smell nice." She extended her hand until it was under my nose. The familiar musky smell wafted from her hand. I was surprised that I didn't blush at her latest compliment, but instead felt a dribble of liquid meander down the inside of my thigh. She watched until the droplet travelled no more and then scooped it up and ran her wet finger across the top of her tongue.

"You taste good too," she noted, making a show of cleaning her finger with her mouth. "Why don't you turn off the water and get into the tub? I'll join you."

I turned off the separate hot and cold spigots and dipped my finger into the tub to test the temperature. Perfect. No longer self-conscious of my nudity, I lifted my leg over the porcelain rim and climbed in. I sank down into the steaming water until it covered my shoulders. It was as good as I had imagined. My heart started racing as I saw Gwen unbuttoning her blouse. She disrobed quickly, with her clothes in a heap on the floor next to mine. I hoped that my body would look as good when I got older. Her breasts were still firm, although now with a bit of sag to them, and some of her skin hung loosely from her long, slender arms, but aside from those minor imperfections she was still a looker, and I looked. The blonde to white hair in her pubic patch was neatly trimmed, and her legs were still perfectly proportioned. She climbed in the opposite side of the tub, the water rising to my chin. Her legs slid over mine, and my feet were next to her bottom.

"Isn't this cozy?" she asked rhetorically. She moved her foot so was positioned between my legs. Her big toe went for my clitoris like a heat seeking missile. When she touched it, I almost leapt out of the tub.

"Jumpy, are we?" She wiggled her big toe again, which caused me to suck in my breath. I was already on the edge and she knew it. Now I began to see how her game was played. Tease, touch, repeat, until my body wanted to explode. I slid on the bottom of the tub towards her, increasing the pressure of her toe against my clit. I wanted the blessed relief of an orgasm. She pulled back her leg just enough to deny me. She then leaned forward in the tub and cupped the underside of my breast with her right hand, hefting it to feel its weight.

"I really love your breasts. Are your nipples as sensitive as they appear to be?" She grasped my left nipple between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed the rock hard nub while at the same time increasing the pressure of her big toe on my clit. My eyeballs rolled up and back as the sudden burst of pleasure threatened to overtake me.

She leaned forward. Her hair shone with reflected sunlight and suddenly the smell of fragrant red roses swirled around my head. I felt as if I were going to swoon. Her glossy lips touched mine, and the sensual touch of her wet skin made my own part to allow a slow dance to evolve between our tongues as my desire for her became all-consuming. Then, as if she sensed me tipping over the edge, her manicured fingernail traced its way along the inside of my thigh, us both knowing the destination, as the kiss became more fervent.

As her fingernail grazed my clit, the touch released a flood of pent up emotions, my mouth now hungrily pursuing hers.

"You want me," her voice low pitched, almost a growl.

"Ummm," was the only answer I could muster as her command over me became inevitable.

"Tell me ..." she said, stopping her finger and causing me to thrust my pelvis forward.

I had to fight through the fog of lust to gasp, "Yes."

"You want to give yourself to me ... your Mistress." She used her thumb to grind it slowly against my clit, the mixture of my honey and the steaming hot water allowing it to manipulate my hardened nub like a joystick. I unabashedly moaned while I kissed her.

"Yes," I pledged to her. The emotional boulder I was carrying started rolling down the hill.

"All of you," she demanded.

"Yes ... all of me." I acquiesced. It was my free will, but no other answer formed on my lips.

She pinched my clit between her thumb and forefinger while using two fingers from her other hand to enter inside me, my labia eagerly parting to allow her to thrust them effortlessly inside me. My head fell back and I heard staccato breaths escape my mouth as I quickly ascended to a magnificent orgasm,

* * *

Was domination and submission just about sex? I found that it wasn't. In fact, the opposite. The next morning I found myself curled up on the end of the bed. Gwen was sitting up, on top of the covers, reading the morning news on her iPad, dressed in a sheer nightgown (and no panties). Her feet were next to my hands so I started rubbing them.

"Ummm ..." she purred, as I traced my fingers across her arch, making her toes curl. "Don't stop."

I gave her my best version of a foot massage, kneading her foot as she continued reading. This was as pleasurable as the night before, laying on top of a thick down comforter, massaging my Mistress's feet, and staring out her bedroom window to see the whitecaps of the waves as they washed towards the shore.

Gwen snapped shut the cover on her iPad and raised her reading glasses so they were resting on top of her head. "I'm getting hungry Cassie, are you?"

I drew my eyes away from the panoramic view of the Gulf. "I've been told I make a pretty mean French toast. I saw that you had a loaf of egg bread sitting on the counter."

Her eyes lit up. "Perfect! I love French toast. I'll make a fruit salad to go with it. By the way, I took the liberty of having Rita retrieve your overnight bag. I've set you up in the guest bedroom at the top of the stairs."

It was so easy with Gwen. Infectious enthusiasm. No drama. I could see how her relationships with Rita and Soo were based on friendship and mutual trust, the building blocks of any long term relationship. I went to my room and took a long and thoroughly satisfying shower and then rifled through my overnight bag, finding my bikini and a sheer cover-up. When in Rome ...

I went down the grand staircase barefoot, feeling glamourous wearing revealing swim wear and my sheer cover-up and nothing else. All I was missing was the sunglasses.

Gwen was already in the kitchen, working with Soo on the fruit salad. She stopped midway through peeling an orange.

"Wow, you look good enough to eat. Let's forget about breakfast," Gwen joked when she saw me in my revealing outfit. I let her eyes take their fill of me before I started on the French toast. My outfit was an unmistakable signal that I wanted her. Soo couldn't help but stare as well.

I lightened the mood. "Not until you try my French toast. You might decide it tastes better."

Gwen didn't want the mood lightened quite yet. She wanted to make it clear that if I stayed I was hers. She stood in front of me and used her finger to tip up my chin so I was staring directly at her.

"I doubt that." The voice of control and certainty.

She pulled the drawstring on my cover-up, allowing it to fall open. She slid her hand inside the cup of my skimpy bikini top, immediately re-igniting my desire. I shuddered. How could she do this? I thought. How could she dial up the intensity at will? To make me want her with just a few simple gestures and words?

In my mind, I must not have given myself fully to her, as I pulled together the sides of my cover-up.

"Uh, uh, no playing until after you try my French toast." I thought being playful would signal my interest without offending her. I knew instantly that I wasn't quite on the mark, as she gave me a stern look.

"After my French toast I may have punish you." She lightly slapped the hand that was holding the sides of the cover-up together. I let go, and my cover-up fluttered open again.

"Maybe after you try my French toast I may deserve it," I said lightheartedly, but inside I was wondering what kind of punishment that would be. My knees started get weak. This was turning into a high stakes breakfast.

Trying to focus on cooking, I used the recipe my mom taught me. The one I used for hungry Packer fans on football Sunday. I was told it was legendary. Thick pieces of egg bread soaked in a mixture of eggs and a bit of nutmeg and cinnamon and my secret ingredient (rum), fried golden brown and covered with a dusting of powered sugar and doused with real maple syrup.

I thought I died and gone to heaven in Gwen's kitchen. Every high end appliance and every piece of cookware imaginable. I chose a copper clad skillet for even browning and set about dipping the bread in a pie plate and then frying it until I had a stack for the four of us. Soo had made a pot of coffee and Gwen and Rita finished the fruit salad.

The table looked perfect. There were fresh cut flowers in the center, flanked by a stack of steaming hot French toast on one side and the colorful fruit salad, with strawberries, blueberries, sectioned oranges and sliced kiwi. We sat down and I watched expectantly as the three others started eating. Smiles of satisfaction were all around as the first round of French toast was gone in no time flat.

"Cassie, this is without a doubt the best French toast I've ever had," declared Gwen, with the others shaking their heads in agreement. "Compliments to the chef." She bowed, extending her arm forward.

"Thank you ... Mistress," I said, paying her proper homage. "Does that mean I won't be punished?"

Soo and Rita smiled. They seemed to know that once Mistress made her mind up to mete out punishment that there was no right of appeal.

"No, it means I won't be hungry when I punish you." Gwen stuck her fork into the new stack of French toast I put on the table. "And thank you again for making this wonderful breakfast."

We talked and ate for another hour. I learned more about Soo and Rita, and even Gwen offered a few more tidbits about her personal life (no, she had never been married before, and yes, she, like Meg Ryan, was madly in love with Deborah Kerr in the movie "An Affair to Remember"). But what I saw was the comradery between the three woman and the love and respect they had for one other. I was already starting to fall into their lifestyle without being conscious of anything I was doing.

We washed all the dishes together and when I had dried and put away the last dish Soo and Rita discretely excused themselves. I imagine they knew they weren't needed for what was coming.

"Come here," said Gwen, but it was more in the Mistress Gwen tone of voice. She crooked her finger at me.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel and stood in front of her, close enough to get a whiff of red roses. I knew my punishment might be coming sooner than I expected. She gripped my cover-up in her fists and pulled me tight against her.

"So my little slut wants to play with me?" she said, her hot breath sending shivers up and down my spine.

"No Mistress." I tried not to babble but her standing so close to me, her scent was making me dizzy.

"You think bondage and discipline is practiced in dungeons and leather padded rooms, don't you slut?" Every word she uttered pressed down on me, pushing me more and more under her control. She was filling every hollow crevice in me, completing me.

Just the tone of her voice made me whimper, "I ... I don't know ... Mistress."

"I can make you submit here, in the kitchen. Is that what you want?"

I wanted anything she wanted. And I wanted to submit to her. "Yes," I said, too softly for her liking.

She pulled me even tighter against her. My breasts were pressing against her blouse, my nipples rubbing against her breasts. My knees felt weak again as even this slightest pressure on my nipples caused me to close me eyes to savor the pleasure.

"Tell me like you mean it." Gwen wanted me to acknowledge to myself that this is what I wanted. A clear head. No reservations.

"Yes, Mistress" I repeated, this time loud enough for Soo and Rita to hear, if they were in the next room.

Gwen let go of my cover-up and put her arms around me, kissing me deeply. Our French toast was followed by an even better French kiss, our tongues in an erotic dance with one another. Our breathing became heavier, and before our passions got the best of us, Gwen used her hands to create a bit of space between us.

"Hold the towel bar."

I felt that whatever control I may have had was gone. She held all the cards now, and I complied without question. There was a brass towel bar, counter height, in front of me. Gwen used two dish towels and bound my wrists to the towel bar and slid my bikini bottom off. I spread my legs, planting my bare feet about three feet apart. Gwen had retrieved a rubber spatula that I had used to mix the egg mixture (now washed and dried of course). She gave me a firm smack to my butt. The snap reverberated off the walls.

"Owww ..." I winced as the rubber blade stung my right butt cheek.

"Another use for your spatula ... I rather like the weight." I could hear Mistress lightly tapping the red spatula against her palm. "But it doesn't swing quite like a wooden paddle."

I heard her swish the spatula in the air and then it connected with my left cheek, jarring me forward.

"OWWWW ... " I cried. She had corrected whatever flaw she thought she had in her swing. She gave me two more smacks on each cheek, the intensity now making beads of sweat dot my forehead. The pain had flooded my mind. I couldn't focus on anything but the sound of her voice.

"You can have more ... if you ask nice."

She was kidding right? But as I was forming my answer a warm glow started lighting me from the inside. A new sensation. I felt wet ... real wet. I wanted to say no more, but, surprisingly I was overruled ... by myself. To my surprise, I heard myself say, "Yes ... please Mistress."

"That's a good slut."

She laid on four more strokes, this time my rump now ablaze. I thought about Franny. How I wished I was her. And now I knew why. It was the insatiable need ... the gnawing want ... freed by the pain and only relieved by pleasure. I wanted to feel this, and finally I was. Stripped bare of all pretenses. There was no shame in admitting it to her.

"Please ... Mistress." I knew it was now that she wanted me to plea for my release. I thought I knew. But I was wrong.

She registered mock surprise. "Why, my dear ... we've just started."

She said it as if she was surprised. But I was the one that was surprised. I was terrified. But then I remembered that Mistress was Gwen, and that she wouldn't do anything to harm me, but would only do something that in the long run I'd enjoy. My trembling stopped. This was part of the journey.

I heard her rummaging through a drawer. There was a clatter of tools, and I heard the drawer slam shut.

"Good, I thought I left a pair of these down here ... you know ... for electrical purposes." She seemed to be muttering to herself but it was clearly for my benefit as well. The last part definitely.

She took another large dish towel and folded it lengthwise, using it as a crude blindfold. She tied it around my head so I couldn't see. Now there was little more that I could offer her. I was bound and blindfolded. My cunt was practically dripping onto the floor. What she said invoked fear in me, despite the words of comfort I said to myself.

I could feel my cover-up being ripped and pulled off me, each tug twisting and turning me as the sheer fabric was rendered to tatters. Tender fingers untied the top to my bikini. I heard the snip of scissors, as each strap of the bikini top was cut off me. My terror increased in intensity to a point I wanted to scream. The residual pain and the anticipation had brought me to this point. I opened my mouth ... but nothing came out.

Then I felt something wonderful. She had taken a nipple on one of my hanging tits and pulled it deep in her mouth, the moist heat of her breath and the warmth of her dimpled tongue plunging me into a pool of pleasure, my heart swimming in it. Her tongue swam around my nipple and the rim of my tit as it widened with each swirl, making my head slump as the muscles in my neck relaxed. This was sin. Her tongue. It danced on my tit. She nibbled on it. I wanted more. She gave me more. The pain emanating from my butt now pushed my pleasure higher with each lash of her tongue. God, no one had ever sucked my tit like she did.

Then heaven again as she moved to my other nipple, this one hard and needy. She was worshipping me. But why?

The answer was not what I expected. It was the bite of a serpent on the base of my just pleasured nipple, still wet from her tongue. It bit hard and its bite was unrelenting. Now the pain overwhelmed all other thoughts in my head. It was the bite of an alligator clip on my nipple, a ferocious pain that I had not yet had the pleasure to meet.

But then, of course, to complete the act, my bare breast hanging heavy and my clipped nipple just starting to soften when the bite of another clip on my untended nipple became a pulsing laser of searing heat that pushed me body to writhe as the pain attacked in waves.

Please, Mistress, why? I said over and over to myself to stop me from crying out as the pain made me shake the towel bar and test the strength of the ties that were binding me.

The pain throbbed as I cried, full-throated, as the clips let their insidious teeth bite me where my flesh was the most succulent, and the most tender. I was shaking and screaming to the point I was certain I was going to pull the towel bar from its moorings when the clips were removed and pain in left breast, and then the right, gave way to pleasure that was too intense, like the volume at 13 when the scale stopped at 10. The blood surged into my tortured nipples, agitating my whole body as my nipples came alive in a white fiery heat. I could do nothing to control my body to withstand the crescendo of feeling.