The Ad

Wanted: a submissive willing to serve a Master/Dominant with thoughtful attention. While you must be female,  your age doesn’t matter to me. Experience is not necessary, as I will bend you to my will, to my ways…if not, then we are not meant to be. We will learn and grow together in pleasure and pain.  Please respond by email to Masterofnone@wantmail.com and let us begin a conversation about our future.

He wrote the ad one night, posted it before he went to bed. Surely there was someone in this vast City, some submissive who craved a Master, he thought as he pulled the covers up, and fell quickly to sleep.

By the next evening there were no fewer than 20 replies in the queue.

He perused them carefully. Some people obviously didn’t even read his paragraph of requirements, as he’d clearly stated “female” and three responses were from men. Not even shemales.  He shook his head, working his way through to the end of the responses. Nada.

By the end of the first week, he was certain that he must be more fastidious than he’d imagined, as no one who responded seemed to click. There were a few he’d conversed with, but. Nada.

On the 9th day, he nearly didn’t boot up his computer. Home from a truly hellish workday, all he wanted was a 5  hour shower, and bed. Every pore on his body ached with fatigue, stress, and repressed anger.

Towelling off, he stepped into the bedroom to grab a pair of clean sweatpants. The towel caught on the edge of the keyboard, nearly sending it tumbling down to the floor. Quickly he caught it, then figured, ‘what the hell’ and powered it up.

Dressed, sipping at a beer he was almost too tired to care about, he slipped into the comfortable desk chair, and went to the profile page.

One response. He typed off a quick note to “Ivy”. He trolled around the site for a few moments, ready to click off when a response popped up on his screen.

“That was quick, ”  he murmured. He responded to Ivy again. She responded just as quickly.  Two hours later they were talking on the phone.

He was captivated. Her voice was low and husky, and she laughed frequently. She’d punctured his ego a few times, and laughed about it. And although at first take she didn’t act like a submissive, the few times he threw a command at her, she responded, instantly.

They arranged a meet. He wondered if he’d be as happy with her face to face as he had been on the phone.

*****

She’d offered to dress the way He chose for her, but for this first time, he wanted to get a sense of her own personal style. Who she was to the larger world. Who she would become for Him. He hadn’t let her describe herself to him, though he had told her that he’d be wearing jeans, his work boots, and a denim jacket. As did more than half the other guys in the bar, he mused.

He wondered how she’d handle looking at all the other guys jackets to find the little yin-yang embroidered on the collar.

She walked into the building and came right to the bar. He noticed her, with her long skirt, and long hair pulled into a ponytail. Her hair was deeply auburn, and in the dimly lit room, looked nearly black. It was only when she stood next to him at the bar that he saw the deep glimmers of red, and subtle brown highlights.  She turned and looked at him after ordering  a glass of diet cola. Her eyes slipped from his face, to his collar and back again. A smile of welcome bloomed on her face.

She was older than he’d thought, but everything else was a Bohemian as he’d imagined.

“Hello, hippy girl,” he said.

“Ivy,” she corrected, her eyes sparkling a deep ocean blue over the rim of her glass.

“I’ve never seen anyone look less like ivy in my life,” he said.

She waggled her eyebrows at him, but didn’t reply. He liked that she didn’t feel the need to jump right into blathering commentary about this or that.  That kind of patience was unusual. She didn’t seem to be at all shy, either. He wasn’t sure if that meant she was indiscriminate in her choice of companions, or merely comfortable with her choices.

“Will you come with me?” He asked, taking her hand in his.

She nodded, her eyes watching his. He was some concerned that she was jumping without being informed. He could be a serial rapist, or a killer, for gods sakes….

He tugged her through the crush near the bathrooms, and took her out back where a small patio was laid out. Only one other table was occupied. He led the way to a table just at the edge of the lights, tucked in the corner.

“Do you do this often?” she asked.

“Do…?”

“Meet strange women in the bar and …you know.” She showed her first shy moment. It made him smile. Ah! At last. A tiny crack in her facade.

Rather than sitting, he gave a sharp tug, pulling her against him. Their bodies connected, her eyes looked up at him in confusion, and her mouth opened to speak.

In that fraction of time before words spilled, his lips took hers.

It was a kiss, and a question. His lips fused to hers, his hand locked around her wrist, the other coming to cup around her neck and hold her. She could have pushed away, but she didn’t. For a moment, he lifted his lips, watching as her eyes opened in awareness…and confusion.

She would have no doubts now about his ad.

His mouth landed upon hers again. Hunger drove him to push her, push her hard enough to see if she would continue to yield to his desire, or if she would push back, and walk away.

He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, and bit down on it. He bit hard enough to make her moan. His tongue slid into her warm wetness, slicking along her tongue, gathering the taste of her. She tasted of minty toothpaste, and chocolate. The faint bitter aftertang of her diet cola. And it was good. Better than good.

His cock twitched in his boxers. How many times had he ever gotten aroused from just a kiss, he wondered. Not many, to be sure. Her body pressed warmly against him,  pressed softness where he was taut and hard-muscled. He wanted, he craved the feel of her soft, round tits in his hands. Yet he held back, held steady.  He continued to hold her simply, at her neck, her wrist.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless. Her cheeks were softly flushed, her eyes wide and bemused. Her lips were parted, swollen and deeply reddened from his mouth, his teeth.

“Do you do this often?” His question directly countered hers, and she looked up and smiled.

Her words were so soft he leaned his down to catch them.

“No Sir…but i am very glad that i did this time.”

Her head fit neatly under his chin, and he drew in the scents of her. Her shampoo was gently floral; her hair tickled his nose and chin where stray hairs floated away from her ponytail.

For a moment more he rested his cheek against the top of her head. Then, pushing her away, he looked at her. In her eyes was a hunger that matched his. He could see the peaks of her nipples pressing outwards, begging him silently for attention. He imagined their succulence, imagined her naked beneath him. His cock responded by growing harder.

“I want you,” she said, surprising him with her forwardness. “I talked to you by email, by phone for hours last night. I’ve left my number with my roommate, and i have times to check in with her so she can report you for murder if i don’t call at the right times. I’ve done so much in my life to be safe, to be careful, to be cautious.”

He looked at her solemnly.

“I’m tired of being safe. Oh, i will ask you to wear a condom, or be tested. I was, just last month before i went online to put up my profile. I carry my results with me, but you are the first one who will get to see them. I…” she dropped her eyes a moment, and he saw her cheeks redden.

“Embarrassed now, little one? After those kisses?”

He enjoyed the quirk of her lips as they drew up into a wry smile.

“I…just wanted you to know. I’ve met other Doms. Three. Not one of them effected me in the hour or two i spent with them, the way you have in the last 15 minutes.”

He looked down at her, knowing there was more. He was a patient man, and he didn’t mind at all watching a woman squirm a bit. She’d need to learn to deal with it if that was an issue for her.

She looked down at her feet, up to his eyes, down to where his hand still held onto her slender wrist.

“I’ve never been in a submissive relationship.”

It was blurted out, like a guilty little secret. She said it the way another woman might have confessed to having 20 lovers.

“Then it’s about time, isn’t it, little one?”

At her eager nod, he laughed, and couldn’t resist kissing her once more.  The applause from the only other occupants of the little outdoor patio broke them apart, and with a nod, he acknowledged their praise.

“Let’s go.”

Tugging her still-captive wrist, he pulled her from the patio, and into their beginning.

the first in working through my queue of half-started stories…hope you enjoyed this little stand alone story! ~nilla~