“I like young men to do as they are told,” she snapped, nailing me with her blue eyes. “And you would do anything I told you to do, wouldn’t you?”

I cleared my throat and nodded.

For years I’d tried to fulfill my dominatrice fantasies on my own, but the so-called bitch goddesses advertised in the underground papers were more professional than domineering. What I wanted was the real thing, not a phony act amateurishly performed by some dolled-up hooker with the meter running. On the all-important night, I reluctantly went to my sister’s sorority reunion, I’d just about decided that my ideal woman existed only in my kinky imagination. What irony it was that Joyce, my sister, who’d been trying to set me up for years, inadvertently brought into my life exactly the woman of my erotic dreams.

I was attracted immediately by Maureen’s slightly arrogant manner, not to mention the sultry allure of her voluptuous figure, which was displayed in a clinging black crepe dress. Her honey-blonde hair was demurely styled in the loose, flowing popular fashion, very becomingly framing her mature, striking features. Though she oohed and aahed appropriately over Joyce’s wallet pictures of the kids and hubby, there was an unconventional twinkle in her deep blue eyes that didn’t escape my alerted antennas when she caught and held my leering glances. She carried herself with a bold confidence, and she had a way of looking me over that made me feel undressed, measured and already at her cruel mercy. She seemed bemused when I asked her to dance. And I was the flattered one when she allowed me two more dances. Joyce, however, had grown impatient with me for spending so much time with a woman who, she reminded me when I hurried to fetch Maureen a scotch from the cash bar, was attractive but nothing like the gorgeous young women of my usual acquaintance. Besides, Joyce was quick to add, Maureen was her own age, a widow, a serious career woman and, rumor had it, capable of being rather bitchy. Darling big sister didn’t realize how much that last bit of gossip intrigued me.

Maureen had vanished from the huge hotel ballroom by the time I returned with her drink. Desperate, I broadened my search beyond the ballroom and finally spotted her sitting in a back booth in a lounge just off the lobby. She rewarded me with a smug smile when I approached and quietly asked for permission to join her.

“I suspected you would come looking for me,” she said, her husky tone electrifying my senses and stirring my cock into a fierce erection as I slid into the booth across from her. “I like young men who do as they are told,” she purred, nailing me with her blue eyes, hypnotizing me with her lush lips. “And you would do anything I told you to do, wouldn’t you?”

I cleared my throat and nodded.

Her small smile remained in place as she calmly, with casual curiosity, asked me whether I currently belonged to another woman. I shook my head, mute, but then, for some reason, I couldn’t resist floating the buzzword. “My sister says you can be bitchy.”

Her smile broadened just enough to make my heart sing. She winked. “Think you can take it?” My fast assurance made her laugh. It was a short, soft, ultrafeminine laugh, as though I’d just said something utterly charming.

Then, to my chagrin, she calmly gathered up her purse and began to make a formal, polite farewell. She ignored my whispered pleas that I be allowed to go with her and instead asked for my business card. Standing, she informed me that perhaps she would be in touch.

An agonizing week passed in which I resisted the temptation to seek her out based on the limited information I could safely glean about her from Joyce. On Friday, I finally got the call for which I’d been breathlessly hoping. Maureen, her unforgotten voice sizzling through the wires and into my office phone, matter-of-factly asked me whether I happened to be free for the evening. She then instructed me to be at a particular uptown restaurant at eight.

Very handsome,” she said approvingly when I was ushered to her table and she appraised me in my best suit. She looked stunningly elegant in a pale pink after-five dress that hugged her matu.re, full breasts in front and dipped daringly low in back. Her flawless flesh was tanned to a rich, vibrant cinnamon, and it was all I could do not to get lost in the fantasy of kissing and licking every inch of her honeyed skin.

She ordered for us, and throughout the leisurely dinner, our conversation portended none of the erotic fireworks l hoped would follow. At last, over after-dinner brandies, her voice that hus.ky purr I remembered so well from our first meeting, and she softly stated her penchant for younger, even virginal, men, explaining that she’d found them to be delightfully malleable — and she warned me that she was demanding.

“I will always be the initiator, Cory. I will demand complete obedience,” she whispered, gazing across the table at me. “If you have a problem with that, we’ll say our goodnights and goodbyes now. Do you understand?”

I nodded and smiled. “I understood that when we danced and you led.”

She laughed that soft, elegant laugh and said it was time to go. Her car was waiting in front of the restaurant, and as she drove us away, I didn’t give my car, which was still parked in the underground garage, a single thought. Excitement pounded me, competing with the nervous anticipation I so keenly felt.

HER HOME was in an exclusive neighborhood, spacious without being ostentatious, and very private. She led me around to a back entrance, past a pool and finally inside to an oak-paneled den. She fixed us a couple of drinks and casually told me to undress. As I stripped, slowly and nervously, she calmly took a seat in a wing-back chair facing me and, sipping her drink, told me to tell her my sexual fantasies.

By the time I was nude, my suit carefully draped over a long, low sofa, I had blurted out some of my most secret thoughts to this exciting, mysterious woman who was practically a stranger. That I was standing in front of this elegantly dressed older woman while naked, blushing beet-red and with a fierce erection affected me like a dose of truth serum. I literally and figuratively had nothing to hide.

“Finish your drink,” Maureen whispered, remaining coolly aloof.

I took a gulp and set the glass down on the nearby coffee table. She kept me standing in front of her as she quietly told me a code word to use if, while punishing me, she reached the limit of my endurance. For a brief, panicked moment, the pliant young women of my usual experience didn’t seem so boring. Yet my excitement pulsed through me. I’d never been so utterly aroused in my life.

Maureen then instructed me to get the black leather belt I would find in the top drawer of the cabinet across the room. When I had done so and turned back to her, she was still sitting calmly, her lovely legs crossed, her luscious thighs exposed through the slit in her formal dress. My arousal remained lewdly obvious when she told me to lean over the arm of the sofa.

She took her time finishing her drink while gazing at me draped ass-up over the arm of the sofa, my bare feet solidly on the floor, my head resting on the sofa cushion, the belt in my hand. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. My hard cock was mashed against the arm of the sofa, and my buttocks and thighs flexed in nervous anticipation. This was better than any fantasy.

Finally Maureen stood and walked over to me. Gently she took the belt and bent down to kiss my cheek while lightly running her fingers through my hair. When she straightened up, I lifted my head off the sofa cushion and tried to keep her in view.

“Head down,” she admonished, making sure I saw the deliberate way she doubled the wide belt while staring at the exposed, easy target of my ass.

I wasn’t prepared for the sting of the first blow, and I yelped as the belt suddenly bit into the taut flesh of my buttocks. Before I could recover, she delivered another stinging blow. Panic flared, along with a sensation of ecstasy. These were not playful taps. The lady meant business, and by the fifth blow, 1 was crying out and squirming madly, already contemplating shouting the code word. By the eighth blow, I was begging her to stop through genuine sobs.

I lost count around the tenth blow as all semblance of my brave composure evaporated. I sobbed out the code word and rolled off the arm of the sofa to the floor, desperate to escape the wicked punishment. And, mercifully, the spanking stopped.

I quickly fought to compose myself and started to scramble up off the hardwood floor, but her voice stopped my. She ordered me to stay there, and I continued to whimper and moan and gingerly reach back to touch my reddened buttocks.

Maureen crossed over to her chair and sat, crossing her legs and reaching for her drink just as if nothing had happened. She might have been called away to take a short phone call or something equally as mundane judging by the casual, unruffled way she reclaimed her chair and drink and ignored the whimpering naked man writhing on the floor mere feet away. When I gazed up at her with teary eyes, I saw her small, smug smile.

“It always begins like this,” she said. “Now, come here.” I struggled to my feet and approached her, blinking back my tears. What would she do next?

A ripple of fear and arousal went through my groins as I stood meekly for her inspection. Maureen told me to turn around and show her what she’d done to me. When I did, she slapped my tortured ass-flesh with her open hand, and I yelped. She giggled and asked me if I was still in a romantic mood. I nodded and answered a meek but honest “yes.”

She ordered me to tum around again and to kneel down on the floor. Slowly she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to gently cup my face in her soft hands. She drew my mouth to hers and kissed me tenderly. Her tongue probed my mouth and electric sensations shot through me, straight to my aching cock. With her lips still lightly nibbling mine, she whispered to me to put my head beneath her dress and between her thighs.

Eagerly I began to Lick and kiss her wet pussy through her sheer pantyhose as soon as she leaned back in her chair and allowed me access. I shuddered with passion and unrelieved sexual tension as I sought to devour her vagina through the frustrating shield of her pantyhose. She tousled my hair as I lapped at her, and eventually I heard her soft moan of pleasure. Then, abruptly, she ordered me to stand.

For the first time she reached for my penis, and I swooned in ecstasy as her soft hands began to stroke and fondle my brick-hard erection and tight balls. Without thinking, I started to reach for her hair, but her stony glare reminded me of my place. I kept my hands meekly at my sides.

She eased a finger beneath my scrotum and tickled her way along my crack as she leaned forward and kissed the tip of my penis. Then, with small, nibbling bites, she teased the bulbous crown while fondling my balls with one hand and rubbing my sore, bruised buttocks with her other hand.

I felt the escalating, joyous pressure of a gathering orgasm as her lips slowly skimmed my glans and continued up my penis until my whole erection disappeared into her hot mouth. She began stroking me with her mouth, taking all of me before moving her lips back to the very tip of my cock. Then, just before I lost it, she withdrew completely, letting my cock thrust madly, frustratingly in the air. I groaned and faced her arrogant smile with pleading eyes.

“Upstairs,” she whispered, and she stood and had me walk in front of her.

She directed me into a bedroom and told me to lie face-down on the bed. She left me there for what seemed an eternity. When she finally returned, she was wearing a full-length, transparent black negligee. She sat on the edge of the bed beside my head and tenderly smiled down on me. I gazed up and thrilled to my first sight of her full, high breasts and ripe, erect nipples through the sheer fabric of her negligee as she delicately stroked my hair and cheek.

“Draw your knees up under your chest and grab the posts of the headboard,” she whispered.

I’d never been so ready to fuck, and being escorted into a bedroom had aroused my horny anticipation all the more. But now, with her strange instruction, disappointment mingled with an ominous chill. “What are you going to do?” My voice quivered.

“Exactly what you dread and what you love, dear boy,” she purred. “You’re getting another taste of the belt.” I started to whine in protest, but Maureen pushed herself up off the bed and said hoarsely, “Don’t move!”

The belt whistled through the air before it connected with my vulnerable ass. Fear and excitement, pain and pleasure seemed to merge, and I trembled against the rush of such powerful, conflicting emotions.

She waited several seconds before delivering the next blow, and this time the headboard rattled in my grip as my body jerked forward on the bed. When I was finally still, she delivered the next blow and my cries rang loudly throughout the huge house as I crouched there, begging her to stop, yet thrilling to the knowledge that she wouldn’t. Through my tears, I saw the fury in her beautiful, mature face fade into a smoldering gaze of pure lust that matched my own.

Maureen dropped the belt and with trembling hands unfastened her negligee. The transparent black silk dropped to her feet and she climbed up beside me on the bed, totally naked in my presence for the first time. She cradled me soothingly in her arms, pressing my tear-streaked face against her breasts.

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, tenderly kissing my wet face and caressing my back and shoulders. “It was a good spanking, wasn’t it?” She reached down and grazed my rigid erection with her fingertips and smiled. “I knew you’d love it.”

She cuddled me in her arms for long minutes and silently encouraged me to suckle her. Now she was as gentle and tender as she’d been violent moments before. Still sobbing, I nursed on her and savored her sighs and soft murmuring. Eventually she gently lowered my head to the pillow and bent down to give me a kiss before she rose to her knees and, gripping the headboard herself, straddled my head. I gazed up in time to see her furry, arousal-slick pussy hovering just above my face before she lowered herself onto my mouth.

She coached the direction and intensity of the movements of my tongue and Lips, whispering and panting her instructions. The oral attention she expected was far more demanding and particular than any casual cunnilingus I’d ever performed. She used my Lips and tongue on every spicy nook and cranny of her genitalia, and l loved it! She smothered me with her pussy until my impassioned labors brought her at least two thunderous orgasms. When she finally leaned down over my chest and sucked my surging cock into her mouth, I knew that she expected my well-worked tongue to continue servicing her.

I’ve never experienced such a powerful orgasm in my life. My come roared into her sucking mouth as my hoarse wails of ecstasy were stifled by her humping, squirming asscheeks as she drove her pussy down on my drilling tongue. Maureen kept her mouth on my spent penis, possessively clutching it between her Lips, until my tongue provided her with another orgasm so intense that I briefly feared for the safety of my penis inside her mouth.

Minutes later, when I heard her whispered suggestion that I shower and refresh myself, I feared she was giving me my walking papers. Despite the fog of exhaustion that shrouded me, I hated the thought of having to leave.

My first glimpse of my blistered buttocks in the bathroom mirror startled me. But under the needle-like spray of the shower, I really came awake. Mouthwash and a new, unused toothbrush awaited my use along with a man’s razor. It was the razor that gave me a jolt, and I jealously wondered about Maureen’s other men and how, after tonight, she ranked me in that parade.

When I stepped back into the darkened bedroom, I was thrilled by the cheerful tone in which she asked me if I felt Like a new man. She sat across the room at a small round table near the window. “Come here and let me look at you,” she said without menace.

Her blonde hair touched the shoulders of the black negligee she’d worn earlier, and I took it as a compliment that she’d used the time I’d spent showering to brush her hair and apply fresh lipstick. Her eyes devoured my naked body, and my hopes that she was pleased with me soared. She reached up and cupped my balls in her palm and grinned up at me as she used the long painted nails of her free hand to lightly scratch the head of my penis. Within seconds, under her expert handling, my semi-erection surged into its rock-hard, full glory.

I was panting in arousal when she finally released me long enough to pick up a slender elastic cord that had been innocently coiled on the round table. She precisely looped the cord around my balls, and when she cinched it tight, drawing my testicles into a single clump, I groaned. She flashed a cool grin at me as she began looping the cord around the thick base of my penis.

“Your sister warned you that I was bitchy,” she purred.

She teased me unmercifully, subjecting my trapped penis and balls to alternating feathery caresses and harsh manipulations. The exquisite torture had me gasping by the time she told me to get on the bed. She drank in the sight of me lying nervously on my back, waiting, wondering what she was going to do next. She seemed to enjoy the way I kept darting anxious glances at her. At last she stood and moved to the foot of the bed. She grinned down at me and slowly let the negligee slip off her body. She climbed up on the bed and moved to mount my towering cock.

“Do you have anything left for me, young man?” she asked in a husky whisper as she straddled my hips. Then she gave out a triumphant groan as she settled firmly on my groin, my cock embedded to the hilt inside her. And then she started to move, fucking me with a savagery that ignited my passion. She was wild and brutal and wondrously beautiful as she bounced up and down on my helplessly rigid cock, and her shrill squeals of ecstasy made my senses sizzle with her every orgasm. I was groaning and shuddering in the frustrated need to come when Maureen finally gave a sigh of sweet contentment and collapsed like a wilting flower atop me. She stretched herself across my chest and hugged me to her, moaning softly, savoring her satisfaction. Her pussy continued to possessively clutch my frustrated cock as she planted her lips on mine, stifling my pleas for a much-needed release. At last she sat up and pushed herself off me.

“Patience, lad,” she cooed, tickling my balls before leaving the bed and calmly strolling over to the round table. She returned with a glass of cognac and settled between my legs on the bed. She began to free my cock and balls, and I yelped at the painful return of long restricted blood to this most sensitive part of my body. A moment later she stroked me to a shattering orgasm.

Maureen waited until l came down to earth before she gave me a tender kiss on the forehead and crawled into bed beside me. Her hand possessively and gently rested on my sated cock and drained balls.

It was beyond my wildest dreams that the evening would stretch into a permanent arrangement. But I’ve been living with Maureen for a year now, which just proves that dreams, even the wildest of dreams, sometimes do come true. And as Maureen likes to remind me, “Be careful what you dream, young man.”