ENCOUNTER

by Trucker F. Swansea

My heart was pounding as I rang the bell for my first session with Mistress Destiny. I had fantasized about this from the moment I'd spotted her ad in one of the magazines I was leafing through in the book store. Full-figured, sheathed in leather, her mouth twisted with the exertion of snapping the whip in her hand--she was a bitch goddess who looked me in the eye and made me shudder with anticipation at the thought of being her slave.

I bought the magazine, took it home and immediately undressed. Drooling over her picture, I lay on my bed, the magazine spread before me. My lips kissed her breasts and thighs. My tongue searched between her legs until I'd licked the color from the page and covered the sheets with the sticky ecstasy of my submissive fantasy.

Mistress Destiny was no fantasy, however, when she opened the door. A well-dreaded woman of medium height in slacks and a silk blouse, she welcomed me in. We sat on the sofa in a bright, warm living room. I told her about my need to be trained to adore her body. My mouth was dry and clumsy. I worried she might reject me, say no, tell me to leave.

Instead she listened carefully and nodded, her intense black eyes never leaving mine. She assured me she could provide the instruction I needed, explained the cost and silently slid the bills I paid into her pants pocket. She led me down a spiral staircase to the basement. "This is my building," she said, "converted to my needs. You'll love it here. It's another world."

"Get undressed," she commanded as she unbuttoned her blouse. Her breasts, firm and large-nipple spilled out of the clothing. "Well shower. Then your training will begin."

"Yes, mistress." We washed and toweled dry. She turned to a mirror and pinned her long, black hair up on her head. Her fleshy rump quivered with the movement of her arms. I knelt behind her, my eyes locked on her buttocks. Breathless with anticipation, I tried to wet my dry lips but there was no moisture in my mouth.

She pulled on leather boots. "Follow me," she said, her eyes hard and cold, "on your knees." We went into the dungeon. She zipped herself into the leather bustier that thinned her waist, accenting the swell of her hips above muscular thighs. Her breasts jutted outward, the hard nipples like eyes watching me tremble on the floor. She pulled on black gloves that rose above her elbows.

She slapped a thick leather strap against the wall. I jumped at the noise. She laughed derisively and eyed my groin as I shrank from her gaze. Her breasts juggled provocatively as she crossed the room and hooked a leather collar around my neck. "Don't just stare, you dog.

"Suck them."

She pulled on the chain attached to the collar, jerked me upright, her dark eyes stern and bright, and forced her breasts into my mouth.

After long minutes she shoved my head to the floor, berating me for my perversity. She forced me to kneel with my ass in the air and strapped it until I begged her to stop.

But she ignored me and went on. Saying I deserved much worse.

She was breathing hard, covered with a thin film of sweat, when she pulled me to a table in the center of the room. She sat facing me and commanded me to lick the perspiration from her body.

I knelt at her feet and slowly cleaned her thighs with my tongue, inhaling the sweet perfume of sweat and leather and cunt which steamed from her panting body. Intoxicated by these d ripe aromas, I buried my face in her and licked at the moisture that poured from her. Her eyes glared as she pulled my head away. "Other things need your attention," she snarled.

She stood up and turned, pulling my head down to the small of her back. "Do it all, " she ordered. I didn't hesitate and licked everywhere. I spread her cheeks. She shivered and leaned back into my tongue, moving rhythmically, silently as I probed and massaged.

You Filthy Pervert

Without warning she ripped my head away, pulling me up on the table. "You filthy pervert, you deserve to be punished for that. You're going to pay too, you miserable piece of slime." Her eyes sparkled as she picked up the strap and, despite my pleas, whipped me again and again.

She turned me on my back and I cringed with fear. I was sure she was going to whip my groin but she climbed on top of me and sat on my chest, my head between her knees. She was a warm blur of muted purple as the dim light reflected from the sweat that covered her. She rolled forward and stuffed herself into my mouth.

"Eat it," she ordered. "A slave like you needs to hide his face." I obeyed at once though I could hardly breath. My tongue licked furiously. She moved forward, covering my nose, making it even more difficult to breath. But her fragrance, fetid and strong and sour, aroused me and my mouth opened wider, trying to take all of her into me.

She turned and looked at my crotch which revealed my excitement. "I didn't give you permission for that," she said, getting off me, the room coming back into focus as she whipped the strap across my groin. The sharp sting of the leather was all I needed. I exploded and the cum flew across my stomach onto the table. "You filthy pig, lick up that mess," she barked, her eyes contemptuous and hard.

When I had cleaned the table, it was over. We dressed and as she opened the front door, her dark eyes warm in the soft light, she said, "Don't be a stranger now. Come back again." I smiled and nodded, sure my first visit wouldn't be my last.