Nicholas finds the answers to all of his x-rated fantasies reside in the abode of the dominatrice next door.

“Don’t you forget it!”

I paused when I heard the stern tone in my landlady’s voice. Her front door was open, but the screen door was still in place. Ms. Stevenson sounded put out in a major way. I hesitated on her porch, wondering whether I should knock to see if everything was all right. Part of me wanted to. Ms. Stevenson has always been helpful to me when I’ve needed a favor. But part of me was a little frightened.

My landlady is a formidable woman. I was struck when I first met her by the fact that she could look me straight in the eye — which put her at my height, nearly six feet tall. Then, seeing her eye to eye, I’d noticed how beautiful she was. Her hair is the soft brown of melted caramel, and she generally wears her curls pulled back in a tight ponytail that emphasizes the severely handsome features of her face.

But it’s not simply that she’s attractive — because many women are pretty. Ms. Stevenson always made me feel a little strange inside. I can hardly explain the sensation. Whenever she looked at me with those violet-blue eyes, I would feel my stomach tighten and my dick get hard. And I’d have these visions — inexplicable visions — of bowing down to her, of kissing her feet, of crawling on my hands and knees wherever she led. In my fantasies, leashes were involved. Even a collar. Top all that off with the noises I’ve heard from her bungalow, and Ms. Stevenson had become my go-to girl where fantasies were concerned.

See, my landlady lives in the Spanish-style unit next to mine. Her bedroom window is directly across from my bedroom window. There’s a small space between our two bungalows — a tiny patch of lawn that houses a birdbath. On warm nights, which are common in Southern California, we’ve both had our windows open at the same time. The sounds I’ve heard emanating from her place are hard to dismiss.

I don’t mean that she plays her stereo too loud or that her dinner guests get out of hand. The noises I’m referring to are moans, sighs and begging. Such sweet begging.

Before I could decide whether or not to knock on the door, the screen opened and Ms. Stevenson burst out. She looked inflamed. Her hair was down for once, floating wildly around her face. Her huge eyes looked larger than ever, and her mouth was set in a fierce line of obvious disappointment.

When she saw me standing there, she appeared momentarily startled by my presence. She caught herself quickly and asked in an even tone, “Nick, is there something I can do for you?”

Except she didn’t sound as if she wanted to do anything for me at all. She sounded as if she might want to do something to me, which I found both thrilling and frightening.

I balked. I’d been on my way to my own cottage when I’d heard her outburst. I didn’t really know what to say. Did I confess to eavesdropping? Did I ask if I could do anything for her instead of vice versa?

“Well?” she’d clearly run out of her last drop of patience. She couldn’t even fake her occupational interest anymore.

I took a deep breath, and then I said softly, “I heard you before. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t trying to listen in on your conversation.” I hesitated, and then courage won out over my fears. “Can I help you in some way?”

Ms. Stevenson leaned against the side of her house and regarded me carefully and intensely. I felt naked under her penetrating gaze. Could she see my desires? Did she know what I thought about when I jerked off in the shower? To my total surprise, she reached out and ran her fingertips under my jaw, tilting my head up. Then she smiled.

“You know what, Nicholas?” she asked, and she opened the screen door and ushered me in ahead of her. “You just might.”

I’d never been inside her cottage before. It was the same basic layout as mine, but unlike my fairly austere décor, Ms. Stevenson’s pad was entirely tricked out in a style that would make any sex kitten proud. She had a sumptuous-looking black leather couch, a dark red rug with long fringe, and interesting nude artwork on the walls. As she moved me down the hallway, I realized that all the nudes were men — extremely muscular men. I didn’t ask where we were going — she was obviously leading me to her bedroom — and I didn’t ask why. But I remembered the sounds I’d heard coming from her window, and I hoped I was in store for whatever her previous dates had encountered.

When we reached her bedroom, Ms. Stevenson pushed me inside, and I stumbled forward. She kept coming at me until I had no choice but to climb on her bed. I hesitated there, facing her imperious beauty, and I saw the wicked way she was grinning.

“Undress,” she said.

“Who were you talking to before?” I dared to ask.

“Undress.”

I took off my clothes — my white t-shirt, my jeans, my boxers — and tossed them next to the bed. Ms. Stevenson kept all of her clothes on.

“Put your hands over your head.”

I did what she said.

“What a nice, fat dick,” she observed, and she seemed pleased.

My cheeks flushed. In my entire life, I’d never been inspected in such a clinical manner. Ms. Stevenson moved around the bed, checking me out from different angles, but her eyes kept returning to my crotch.

“I’m going to have fun playing with that dick of yours.”

She came close to me, and she gave my stiffened penis a gentle swat. Groaning, I started to bring my hands down.

Ms. Stevenson barked at me, “Keep your hands over your head, Nick!”

I did what she said. This time, she dragged her fingernails down the sides of my cock. Her nails were painted a deep, maraschino-cherry red. They were glossy and perfect. I wanted to suck her fingertips into my mouth. What a strange desire. I stared, mesmerized, as she continued to rake her nails on my most sensitive skin. Then she gave my balls an unexpected tug, making me moan again. I moved my hands once more. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do. I loved the way she was touching me, so I wasn’t intending to push her away. But for some reason, when she fondled my balls, my hands moved, as if on their own.

“Do I need to cuff you to make you behave?”

As she spoke, she reached into her bedside table drawer and brought out a set of silvery handcuffs. She dangled the cuffs in front of my eyes, and she arched a brow, waiting for my response. I nodded. I don’t know if she had to cuff me or not, but I definitely wanted her to cuff me. The only question I had was how she desired my body. She answered that silent query by pushing me back on the bed, straddling my chest and cuffing my wrists together. Ms. Stevenson looked down with obvious delight. She had me exactly where she wanted me. This was clear to both of us.

She moved forward a little bit, and her pussy was close enough to my face that I could smell her sensual fragrance. I waited to see what she would do next. Ms. Stevenson surprised me. She pulled her sundress up to show me a pair of tight silky panties beneath.

“Do you want to taste me?” she asked sexily.

“Yes,” I said quickly. Then, “Yes, Ma’am.”

She winked at me. “Good boy.”

She didn’t take off her panties. She didn’t even slip them to the side. Instead, she moved to press her panty-clad pussy to my lips, and I darted out my tongue and traced over her mound. She sighed and leaned back, shoving her pussy forward hard. I started to lap at her panties, and she seemed to really appreciate my tongue work. I was surprised when she pulled away, moving down on the bed to swat my dick again. I felt the pre-come start to slip from the tip. She wasn’t hurting me with her hand, but she was definitely touching me in a way I’d never experienced before. Outside of my fantasies, at least.

The next thing Ms. Stevenson did was ask me to roll over. “Ask” is a generous word. What she actually said was, “On your stomach, boy,” and I knew what she wanted.

This wasn’t easy. My dick was as hard as wood. But I gingerly maneuvered myself into the position she requested. She hung the chain on a hook above her pillows. I hadn’t even seen the hook there. I felt my dick get even harder — if that was possible — at the thought that this dominant woman used cuffs so often she had a permanent hook installed in her wall. I wondered what she was going to do next. I didn’t have to wonder long. In a flash, Ms. Stevenson brandished a paddle in front of my face.

“Kiss my paddle if you want me to spank you,” she said. I didn’t hesitate. I kissed the shiny surface. The noises I’d heard in the past were making all kinds of sense now. I was thrilled to have found myself in this position with my no-nonsense landlady. The only thing I was sad about was the fact that I had never made the first move before. All those time she was punishing some other stud, I could have been in this place.

Ms. Stevenson seemed to be having similar regrets.“I’ve always wanted to spank this fine ass,” she said. “Whenever you walk by in those formfitting jeans of yours. Whenever you go for a swim in the pool. I’ve always wanted to get my hands on these cheeks.”

For a moment, she simply set the paddle against my ass, resting it there. She gave me the opportunity to become accustomed to the way the cool surface felt against my skin. Then she started. The paddle bounced against my asscheeks, spreading warmth throughout my hindquarters. I’d never been spanked by a lover before, and I found that I took to the sensation immediately. Ms. Stevenson spanked me quickly, one blow right after the next, and I fucked her mattress with each stroke. I couldn’t help myself. My hips twisted involuntarily. The pain became pleasure, and the pleasure took my breath away.

At first, Ms. Stevenson ignored the obscene way my body responded to the punishment. In fact, when I snuck a glance in her direction, she seemed to be trying to fight off a smile.

Then she said, “You hold yourself still. This is not about your pleasure in the least.”

I was embarrassed that she’d had to chide me. “Remember, Nick,” she added, “I am not punishing you to give you what you want. This is about what I want.”

I tried to do what she said. I held my body in check when my hips attempted to buck. I absorbed the impact of the paddle. All thoughts were focused on my dick. My dick had a mind of its own. Each time Ms. Stevenson struck a blow, my cock twitched. I had fantasized about scenarios like this, but I’d had no idea what the reality would be like. The reality was far sexier than I could have imagined.

Ms. Stevenson paddled me until it seemed that she was tired of the activity. Then she pulled something new from her drawer. A cock in a harness dangled in front of my eyes.

“Kiss my cock if you want me to fuck you with this,” she said. I could hear the glee in her voice. I tried to kiss the dildo, but she kept pulling the toy out of my reach. I did my best to capture the dickhead in my mouth, to no avail. I would not let her down. I understood she was testing me. If I gave up, then I could guess what would happen — she’d reach for the silver key I saw tied with a red ribbon on her bedside table. The last thing I wanted was to be set free.

I made a truly desperate grab at the cock, and Ms. Stevenson finally took pity on me and let me catch the toy with my mouth. For several seconds, she allowed me to work the dick in my mouth. This was another new pastime for me. I had never had any sort of dick between my lips — toy or otherwise. But I know how I like my own cock sucked, and I gave Ms. Stevenson my all, slurping and licking her pretty blue toy. She appeared to appreciate the way I was working that rod for her, because she helped me by thrusting the cock deeper into my mouth. Oh, fuck was that sexy. I felt fulfilled in a way I wouldn’t have dreamed was real. Here I was, my wrists cuffed in my landlady’s bed, sucking on a toy as if I had no inhibitions whatsoever.

“Let’s try this a new way,” she said, and she petted my hair to let me know I was doing a good job.

Quick as a cat, she took off her clothes and fastened on the harness. She removed the handcuffs from the hook, but she didn’t unlock them. Next, she had me get on my hands and knees, and now blowing her was something else. She took total control of the speed and rhythm. I was as much her toy as the dildo — hers to use for her own carnal gratification. I struggled to give her the best blowjob she’d ever had. I’d heard the sounds of her previous lovers, after all. I wanted to be a keeper. I wanted to show her desperately that I was worth the trouble.

“You know where this is going, don’t you?” she asked.

I felt that she expected a response, but my mouth was all full of her cock. Still, I did my best to mumble around the toy:

“In my ass.”

“Bingo,” she said, and she pulled away and settled back on her haunches as she grabbed a large bottle from her nightstand.

You’ve got to love a woman who buys lube in the industrial size. My dick was throbbing with pent-up desire. She lubed up her tube, and then she taunted me by simply stroking her fist up and down the plastic shaft. I wanted her fist on me, or her dick in my ass, or better yet — both. Basically, I wanted something. Ms. Stevenson understood my unspoken desires. Taking pity on me, she moved around my body and introduced me to her synthetic dick. I cried out at the initial thrust. I’d never had anything in me like that before. Ms. Stevenson didn’t hesitate. She banged me as if I were her favorite fuck-toy. I felt myself melting into her mattress with every thrust. When she reached beneath me to rake her fingernails over the sensitive skin on my balls, I shuddered all over.

This was definitely a night of firsts. My first time giving a blowjob. My first time ever receiving during anal sex. I could feel the excitement building inside me, and I knew I would not be able to stave off the powerful climax threatening to overtake me. I moaned, and the noise reverberated in the air around us. There was no denying the hunger in that sound.

“Are you going to come?” she demanded harshly.“Yes,” I sighed, and then I realized that might not have been the proper response to a dominatrice, which is obviously what Ms. Stevenson was.

“Please?” I added.

“You may come,” she said, magnanimously, and I creamed all over her sheets.

She didn’t waste any time. She undid the harness and the cuffs. Then she had me get on my back and she straddled my face once more. I didn’t have to be told what to do. Thrilled to really be able to taste her and not simply work her through her panties, I sucked and lapped at her honeyed triangle until her juices were coating my lips and tongue and Ms. Stevenson was tugging my hair and calling me her bad boy.

Getting her off was one of the most gratifying experiences of my entire life. I sucked her swollen clit into my mouth, and she cried out and writhed on top of my face until every last drop of her nectar had been swept clean by my tongue.

I wondered what she would have me do next. I hoped she wasn’t done with me. Luckily for me, she wasn’t. She turned around and parted the cheeks of her ass, settling herself into a position that allowed me to rim her. I teased her cute little rosebud opening with as much finesse as I’d worked her clit. She was the one to sigh then, and I felt as if I’d won some great award. I had made my mistress sigh with obvious pleasure. I had the immediate desire to make her do that again.

Ms. Stevenson was able to get her hand around my dick while I pleasured her. She began to reward me with strokes on my rapidly reawakening cock when I pleased her with my tongue. When I started to actually tongue-fuck her asshole, she poured lube over my cock and got me good and messy with the lubricant. She seemed to come from the rimming, because she cried out with delight the same way she had when I’d licked her clit. Maybe I ought to have guessed what was going to happen next, but I didn’t. I was hazy with sex happiness.

Ms. Stevenson said, “Nick, I’m going to give you a special treat.” I couldn’t wait. “I’m going to let you fuck my ass. Would you like that?”

I nodded, and then said, “Yes, Ms. Stevenson. Yes, Ma’am.”

“But I don’t want to leave you out of the fun,” she said, and she rummaged in her drawer until she found a good-sized butt plug. She raised my legs and added a lot of lube to my hole. Then she started to push the plug in me. I was so turned on I couldn’t even speak.

She watched my face the whole time, and she said, “You’re being really stretched out back there, my dear boy, aren’t you?” I nodded helplessly. “And you like the way that feels?”

“Yes,” I squeaked. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.”

One firm thrust, and the toy was all the way up in me. I wondered how my landlady wanted me to fuck her. I should have realized that she didn’t. She was going to fuck me. Even with anal, Ms. Stevenson was a woman in charge. She spread the cheeks of her ass, opening her hole so that she could take me all the way in. Then she slowly sat down on my dick. She was the one to set the rhythm of the ride, which is of course how it should have been. She powered herself up and down my pole with speed and alacrity. I could tell I was going to come again, and I hoped I could wait until she reached her limits first. Thrillingly, something even better happened. We came together. Ms. Stevenson’s muscles milked the come right out of me, and I shot into her back hole until I was completely spent.

When she rolled off me, my landlady had a look of complete satisfaction on her face. I felt well used and incredibly pleased. But I was still curious about her phone call of earlier. As she extricated the butt plug from my ass, I dared query her.

“One of my subs was supposed to come by tonight, but he canceled at the last minute. I needed to get out a little aggression. You came by just in the nick of time.”

Since I live right next door, Ms. Stevenson has promised to put me into her regular rotation. I told her I’d be her Nick anytime she wanted.