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Chance Meeting


All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
.lt
I had to go to the department store. My supply of shirts had
become just about exhausted, and a sale was in progress. Might
as well stock up, I thought.

At the counter was a rather attractive saleswoman. About 34, she
was on the tall side (5'11" or so) with a medium build, and dark
hair. It wasn't her physical appearance that attracted me, though;
it was a necklace she was wearing - a necklace worn only by members of Select, an organization of seally liberated people.

On the end of the pendant was a tiny paddle - the Select sign for
people who have a special interest in bondage and discipline.
An involuntary shudder went through me when I saw it. I hadn't
seen one in years.

"That's a rather attractive necklace you're wearing," I said to her
in as normally conversational a tone as I could muster. She looked
up in surprise. "Thank you," she replied. "It's got a very special
significance to me". My mind raced. Should I venture another step?

"Yes, I know". I had decided. But should I continue?

The decision was made for me. "How do you know what significance
a necklace might have to me," she asked in an even, level tone.
"We've never met."

Here goes. "It looks like a Select necklace," I replied. "Indeed it
is," she said. "And do you know what special significance THIS Select
necklace has?"

"It's the sign of dominance", I answered. I lowered my eyes, as I was
expected to do when a contact of this type was made. "And do you know
what it means when you tell me of your knowledge of this necklace?"
she questioned.

"Yes, mistress. It means that I now belong to you. You have the
right to order me to do your bidding, and to punish me at your whim.
I am obliged to obey you, and I accept this obligation willingly."

"That is correct," she answered. My new mistress made a quick note
on a small piece of paper and handed it to me. "Be at this address
tomorrow night at 9PM.
I want you to be wearing only shoes, a shirt, and pants - nothing
else. As soon as you enter my house, and I close the door, you
will remove all of your clothing. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mistress," I murmured, and quickly left.

I don't remember anything that happened between then and 9PM the
next night. I was consumed by thoughts of what would happen when
I arrived at her home.

At exactly 9PM, I knocked at her door. It opened, and I saw her
already walking into another room. "Follow me - quickly" were
her only words. I disrobed as she had ordered, and turned the
corner into the next room.

Four other people sat there in the room - staring at me as I entered.
Three of them were women between 25 and 40, and one was a man of
about 40. "Tell us your name and why you are here," said my mistress.
I glanced at the four others, embarrassment welling up inside me.

"I am here to be obedient to my mistress, and to accept whatever
discipline she desires to use upon me," I answered. "The correct
answer," she replied. "Kneel. Crawl to each of the women and
kiss her feet."

I did so hurriedly. Kissing the feet of each of the women made me feel
submissive to each of them; exactly what my mistress wanted, I thought.

When I arrived at my mistress I began to kiss her feet. I did
not - could not - stop until I heard her voice. "Stop," she said.
"I want you to remove my panties without using your hands." Thinking
quickly, I begin to use my teeth and my tongue to loosen and lower
the thin, brief panties. "Kiss," she ordered.
As I crawled around her, I kissed her everywhere as the panties lowered
themselves slowly.....slowly...........

Suddenly she stopped me. "That's MUCH to slow. You must be trained
to work more quickly on my orders," she hissed. I knew what was next.

"Go to the cabinet and open the drawer. Bring me the contents."
As I crawled past the last of the three women, she sharply struck
me with her open hand on my buttocks. "That's only the beginning,
you know...", she smiled.

The cabinet drawer contained two paddles. They were the largest
paddles I had every seen, but I knew exactly what they had been
designed for. Taking them in my teeth, I returned to my mistress
and waited for her to take them. She did.

"Get over to the coffee table, and bend over it," she ordered.
"And I don't want to hear a sound out of you, do you hear me?"
"Yes, mistress" I answered.

I took the position she had ordered. One of the three women in
front of whom I was positioned began to coat my buttocks with
a lotion of some sort. After several seconds, my bottom began
to get warm. "Just to make the skin a little more sensitive,"
she laughed. I gritted my teeth, waiting for the discipline to
begin.

And begin it did. My mistress had handed each of the two other
women one of the paddles and given them instructions to alternately
strike my buttocks with slow, even strokes. When the first few
were lightly applied, I began to feel relieved; perhaps this would
not be as painful as I had imagined.

But I was mistakened. Slowly the pace and force quickened. I could
feel the blows being applied harder.....harder.....almost to the point
beyond which I could not stand it. They continued.....I stifled a
cry, knowing that if I were to make a sound, the discipline would
just be doubled. I tried to take my mind off of the fiery redness,
but it was no use.

Finally it was over. "Rise, and thank your trainers," my mistress
said. I stood, awkwardly in front of the women. "Thank you," I
said to each. "Thank you for giving me the discipline I deserved."

"You're welcome," they replied, almost in unison. "It was our
pleasure."
 
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