There is no such thing as free sex: a domme and her subpart 1
The sticker on the wall stated that "free sex" was the policy. The sticker also included a link to a website and a picture of a woman wearing only a thong, with big tits.
She was puzzled as to why it had been put up in the ladies' toilet.
That would appeal only to men, surely?
She couldn't believe that gay women would be interested. After she had finished pissing, she pulled her pants up and ripped the sticker from the wall. She then put it in her pocket.
It was quite curious. It was not free sex. All sex was expensive. Material and emotional.
Laura was her name. She lived in a tiny studio apartment in Greenpoint in Brooklyn. Her father was American and her mother was Brazilian.
Her dark hair was long. Her mother gave her the Amazonian warrior look. She was tall. Either men worshipped her or they feared for her. Oder they worshipped her out of fear.
She went back to the table, where her date was seated. As she approached, he watched.
Laura made confident, slow strides. Her hair moved at her sides. He believed that she was a goddess.
How could he have been so fortunate to meet a woman like hers?
This woman looked dominant and was a warrior princess. He resist the temptation to fall to the ground to kneel before her.
He wanted to be her servant. He wanted it so badly.
He wanted to serve her. He knew he was not worthy. He wasn't worthy at all.
The slave and the free sex spirit
John was his name. He was 35 years older than Laura and 27 years younger than Laura.
He was a high-ranking executive and lived in a Midtown Manhattan apartment with two bedrooms. They could not be more different.
He was a banker, she was an artist. He was a slave to his bank, but she was free-spirited.
He was not sure why she wanted to marry him. He didn't seem to be the type of person who would want to get rich or have a career.
Laura gazed at John while she sat down. He looked like a dull city guy at first glance. Undistinguished from other bankers wearing suits, he was a banker in a suit.
He wasn't boring, she knew.
They met through a BDSM site. She described herself as a domme and a dominant.
His profile stated that he was a sub and a submissive.
She was a sadist. He was a masochist.
John was correct; Laura was not the type of person who would be impressed by wealth, status, or a fancy apartment.
She was a person who impressed people with kindness, humility humor, humor, and compassion. Willingness to learn and acceptance of differences.
These things Laura had seen in John while they were chatting. This was even more evident on the dates they were on.
He was more than just his corporate job. He was more than his impeccable suit.
Laura was very concerned that her sub was a good person. It was sometimes a little more difficult to punish them.
It was easier to punish someone who didn’t recycle or was rude to servers or who sighed when his mom called.
The night sky is lit by a flame
John asked Laura if she would like another glass after Laura had finished her wine. He asked her if she wanted another glass of wine and she agreed.
She had already had one glass and didn't play with her sub when she was drunk.
John's expression was that of an oil rig worker overworked who had just been told he could return home to see his family. They hadn't played together before. Laura thought it was the right time.
They had discussed boundaries; they had agreed to a safe word. She knew what he liked. He was familiar with her rules and had accepted them.
John paid, and they found a taxi. It was a short ride to his apartment in midtown. Laura's jaw dropped slightly when they arrived at his apartment.
She was not influenced by material or money, but she could not deny that his views were very impressive.
From within Manhattan's skyline, she was looking at Manhattan's skyline. The Empire State Building, a prized jewel, was visible in the distance, glowing red like a fire in the night sky.
She was composed.
She ordered, "Take off your clothes and get on the couch."
Her voice was strong and commanding. It was different than the one he heard in the bar. He removed his clothes. As he sat down, his cock was already stiff.
"Free sex in a pocket"
She took her bag. She had brought toys. He had told her that he liked being blindfolded. She immediately tied a black silk blindfold around his eyes.
He looked at her, and she stood still. His hands moved at his sides. She thought they needed to be tied up.
She said she was doing some stripping and that it was a good thing for his health. She pulled at her jeans with her hands and the sticker stating "Free sex” fell from her pocket.
She put it in her pocket, and remembered to go back later.
She was now wearing only her underwear and cuffed her hands behind her back with her black leather gloves. He stopped twitching. He was gently stroked by her.
She struck it with her palm. He groaned. "Ouch."
She said, "I think it's time to address that complaining mouth of yours."
She removed her panties and put them in her mouth.
He groaned and his cock moved like it was begging for someone to touch. Her pussy juice had soaked her panties.
He could even taste her.
He heard her again, and her footsteps came closer. As she walked, he could only see shadows.
He felt a feather touch his thigh. He felt a feather on his thighs. She moved the feather up to his cock by twirling it along his legs.
She suddenly smacked his legs with a crop. His eyes widened and he almost spat out his panties. To protect his balls, he instinctively clenched his legs together.
"Ah, I see that I have to do something about your legs. She said that they have too much freedom to move, and was amused by his pain. The sadist was out to play.
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