The Ad 1

I placed the ad with no real expectation that it would be answered. Sometimes, at night, I'd dream about it, but the liklihood of anyone actually answering what I written seemed far-fetched indeed.

A single man, complete slob and sexual
outcast, seeks a female maid to do all of
the dirty work for him. In trade, as payment
for these services, absolute sexual dominion
is offered. If you can cook, clean, and obey
please respond at this ad.

So you can imagine my amazement when my answering machine one day recorded a call from Linda, who I'd never heard of before. In a soft, almost inaudible voice, she whispered into the machine: "Steven, I don't know why I'm doing this, but there is some inner compulsion that will not let me sleep. It's late now, and I want to get this over with. I read your ad and have been able to think of little else since. I can clean and cook, and I think I'd like to obey. Obey you, do what you ask, no tell, me to do. Can you make me obey? I await your call."
It didn't take me long to return her call, but all I got was her answering machine. So I left a message telling her to meet me for coffee downtown at a small intimate coffee shop. I told her to wear some sexy underwear and to meet me that afternoon. I told her how to recognize me, and then I went to work.
All day at work ( I won't tell you what I do or where I am since most of this story is true!) I could think of little else except how ugly and unpleasant anyone who would answer my ad must be,. A real loser, bad breath, severe acne; something that would keep her from the normal kinds of relationships most people have. How many times did I decide to not go, to just stand Linda up and save myself from a huge complication.
So I sat and waited, sipping coffee and glancing at my watch, filled with a huge embarrassment about how I was going to get out of this. Almost afraid to look up, I stared into my coffee and moped. The sense of a person standing next to my table made me expect the waitress without looking up., I asked for a refill and slid my cup across the table to her. I just saw a thin hand, fingers full of rings, reach out and take my cup. Not the swollen and chapped hand of a waitress in a coffee house.
I looked up to see a slender female dressed in a bright red dress swaying across the room with my coffee cup. Her brown hair, cut into a shoulder-length, bobbed along the nape of her nieck. A red, embroiderd sheath
enclosed the gently swaying curves of her roundish ass, stretched tight along her shoulders, and falling towards the red high heels she perched on top of. I could not see until she turned from her conversation with the waitress that her dress was slit far up the left side, revealing a flash of the lacy top to her black stockings with each step, as she returned with a cup in either hand. She stared at me with a frank gaze that I could not decipher but which gave me a raging hard-on.
"You must be Linda. As you've guessed, I'm Steve. No thank you, I don't want cream. I want to cream."
At that, Linda looked at me with a face of mixed embarrasment and delight.
"Rub your lips with your tongue. That's nice. You have a nice tongue. I like your tongue. If we agree with eavch other, then I'd like to have that tongue, going anywhere and everywhere. Your nipples are hardening. I can see them. No, no, don't try to hide them. That's better. So, you like the idea of me having your tongue? You should answer."
And then I heard that voice again, soft, almost too quiet to be heard. "Yes. I find it very exciting. For you to have my tongue. And the rest of me."
"Do you really mean that? Do you really understand what it will mean to give yourself to me? Completely? Do anything I ask? Say 'cunt.'"
"What?"
"Say "cunt" right now or go away."
"Cunt," she whispered.
"No. As in 'I have a cunt and I want to give it to you. I want you to have complete control over my cunt.' Now say it."
Head bowed over her coffee, she mumbled towards her cup. I lifted her face with a finger crooked below her chin. "Look me in the eyes as you say it or leave and forget that we ever met."
Slowly her eyes rose to meet mine. They were brown and soft and wide. Red burned around her ears and her nipples could still be seen clearly through the thin materila of her dress. "I have a cunt and I want to give it to you. I want you to have complete control over my cunt." An odd expression surged through her eyes, as though she'd crossed some boundary that she'd not been sure she could or even wanted to cross.
"Well," I sighed as I leaned back in my booth, "So far, you're doing a great job. Now that we've got my role squared away, let's talk about you. You're pretty, not obviously flawed, apparently healthy. Why? Why do you want to do this? Why do you want to surrender yourself completely to a complete stranger? How do you know I'm not a complete lunatic?"
Please," she said, "please. This is very hard for me to do, but I must do it. I cannot tell you why. I can only tell you that I must. Please don't turn me away. I'll beg if you ask me to."
"I don't know you're name and I don't want to. I'm going to call you Esclava. That's Spanish for 'slave.' You call me Maestro. Okay, Esclava, here's the deal then. You serve me and me only. You do exactly as I tell you to do or you get punishment. Don't cover your nipples. I like to see them poking through. There, that's good. They tell me what I need to know. Now, you're stupid but lucky. There are all sort of dangerous people in the world, people who would hurt you. I won't hurt you. Unless you disobey me.
Now, don't think that you're going to take over my life or anything. I think of you more as a hobby and a convenience. But I do want money. I can tell by your clothes that you've got a good job. Keep it, as I'll keep mine. But you must bring me one hundred dollars once a week. You know, just to make everything easier for me. You'll do that for me, won't you, my Esclava? To make me happy? To show how much you give to me?"
She had continued to stare into my eyes during all of my little explanation, her eyes growing ever wider. Just before answering me, her pupils widened into pools I could not fathom. I thought a lot about those eyes since and what they could possibly have meant. "Do you want it in cash?"
How simple those words sound now, but at the time, they spoke a commitment to a relationship that was going to surprise us both.
"Yes, that's good. Now, I want to ask you some questions, you kmow, sort of as a get-acquainted game. I told you to wear some sexy underwear today, and from what I've seen, you've done a fairly good job. Tell me what else you're wearing. Describe it to me. Don't look at me that way. Go ahead."
She flashed an unspoken appeal at me and saw that there was no out. I leaned forward, stared her straight in the eyes and smiled. She dropped her head, cheeks starting to glow red.
"Now, this isn't a very good beginning is it? How can I accept you when you won't even do the first thing you're asked? Sit up so I can admire your breasts and speak loudly.
"My panties and bra match. They're sort of a set. Dark blue with black trim."
I sighed. "You're not doing very well. Tell me more. Any lace?"
"Yes, they both have some lace. The cup of my bra is lace at the top, black lace to go with the blue. My panties as well have lace trim, around the waist and each leg opening. Nothing much, but a little. I'm also wearing stockings, the self-supporting kind."
"Come on, come on," I said impatiently. "Tell me more. What is the cut? What are the made of. Oh, never mind. Tell me something else. When was the last time you had an orgasm? Lie to me and I'm gone. I want to know everything."
"This morning."
"This morning?"
"Well…"
"Yes. I was getting dressed to come here. It was after my shower, and I'd laid out all of my clothes on the bed. I stood there looking at them and I was overcome with a sexy feeling. Like liquid fire, like I could stretch open in all directions, bend into any shape. My nipples hardened, and there was a swelling between my legs. My breasts felt almost too heavy and I held them up from below. My hands carressed over the ends, over he nipples and a shock shot into my vulva. It leapt apart and so did my legs. I fell on the bed and masturbated. The orgasm was shattering."
"How do you masturbate? Touch yourself? I want to know everything."
I use my hand, my two fingers. To rub gently at the top, at my clit. Round and round. Sometimes with the other hand, I touch my breasts, sometimes I rub between my legs with both hands. And, sometimes, when I'm really into it, I'll use two fingers on one hand to hold my lips open so the other can get at my clit more easily. It usually takes five minutes or so, and then I get off."
"Okay, so far, I accept you. But we really do need to know better what each of us wants. So, let's say that this first week is a trial. You be my Little Esclava for a week. Starts tomorrow, Monday. Next Sunday, we'll see if we want to continue. I'll even give you an out word, so you can quit anytime you want. Just say 'I quit.' And it'll all be over. You get dressed and go away. Forever. So, before you say it, just remember that you'll end up wondering for the rest of your life. What would have happened if.
Here's my address. Be there at six tomorrow evening. Bring a bottle of wine with you. I prefer white. Cold, very cold. And a triple X rated movie. Something really dirty, about slaves and all. Dress like you want to fuck. I like white, sheer white, underwear. Only white, but make it sexy. Lots of make-up too. Now, kiss me. Kiss me like you want to fuck me. Kiss me with your lips, with your tongue, with your whole mouth. Right here, right now. Come on, Esclava, give me some."
I left the bill for her to pay.