My First Surrender: Kissing Her Red-Toenailed Feet at the Bar
There she was, sipping white wine at the bar counter, just like I hoped. Stunning brunette with ebony hair, bangs hiding those dark, sparkling eyes. She spots me. My heart hammers. I flash a shy smile. She gets it. Grabs her glass, slides over. Polite smile on her full lips. I bow awkwardly, salute her. She scans me head to toe, like prey. I offer my stool—finally noticing she’s standing. She takes it without thanks, eyes locked on mine.
‘What’s your name?’ Her voice, husky, commanding.
The Approach
‘Julien…’
She downs her wine, sets the glass before me. Stares. My pulse races. I breathe deep, offer another drink. Vouvoying her like a gentleman. She nods, amused. My eyes drop instinctively to her feet. Black stilettos, open-toed, blood-red polish gleaming. I snap back up. Her smile turns predatory. Face burning, I order from the bartender.
‘Don’t be so shy, little wolf,’ she teases.
‘I… I’m not usually,’ I mumble, head down.
Barman brings glasses. I pay.
‘Alone tonight? Where’s your girlfriend? Cheating, sneaky boy?’ Accusing tone.
‘No, Ma’am. She’s out with friends. Just a drink…’
‘Just a drink? Liar. You came for me. Saw your sneaky glances last time, even with her here. Shame on you.’
She grins wickedly. Busted. I stare at her perfect feet.
‘Like them, you little slut?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Don’t play coy. Kiss them. I allow it.’
Face crimson, I meet her challenging gaze.
‘Well? Kiss or chicken out?’
‘Serious? Not here, with everyone…’
Bar’s packed Saturday night.
‘Suit yourself.’ She starts to rise.
‘No! Wait! I’ll do it!’
‘No forcing. If you don’t want…’
‘I do! Yes, Ma’am!’
She settles back, smug. I lean in, hands trembling on her nylon-clad leg in tight jeans. Her dangling foot waits. Irresistible. I cup the heel, lips press to her red toes. Magic explodes. Heart thuds wild. I straighten, dizzy.
‘Cute. Hard already?’
‘Yes, Ma’am…’
‘Forget your girl?’
Stunned, I fidget. She laughs, spits wine in my face. Warm, shocking. Crowd chuckles. I want to bolt.
‘Relax, bunny.’ She stands. ‘Walk me home. Won’t lose out.’
I follow like a puppy. Her ass sways royally on killer heels.
The Instant
Scooter ride: no helmet for me. She guns it, I cling terrified through turns.
Her building. Up stairs, hypnotized by her climbing hips. Third floor.
‘Enjoying the view?’ Wink.
Inside: keys down, she lounges in burgundy leather chair. I eye the modern decor, drop to rug.
‘No sitting yet. Strip.’
Hesitant, I obey. Shoes, socks, shirt, pants. Boxer briefs last.
‘Off with those too!’
Naked, erection throbbing, hands covering.
‘Closer.’
She pulls hands away, inspects. ‘Damn, your girl’s lucky.’ ‘Turn.’ Back view. ‘Bend, legs straight.’ Finger probes my ass. ‘Lick it clean.’
I suck her finger, tasting myself.
‘Kneel. I hate hair. Shave pubes and ass. Objection?’
‘But my girlfriend…’
‘Your problem. Leave or stay.’
‘I stay, Ma’am.’
Bathroom. On tub edge. Epilator buzzes. Legs spread. First rip: agony. I yelp. Slap stings.
‘Shut up! Gag time.’ Red lace panties in mouth.
Pain rips through balls, shaft. Tears stream. Then ass, arched. Regret floods, but too late.
Done. Mirror: smooth, red, raw. She gropes. ‘Bigger now. Thank me.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’ Kiss her shoes.
‘On all fours, arch like slut.’
Feather teases spine to hole. Fingers spread. Plumeau spits, thrusts in. Full, shocking stretch.
‘Perfect.’ She snaps pic, takes my number. ‘Dress. Go. I’ll call.’
Out the door. ‘Say hi to your wife!’
Street: lost, smooth skin burning. Phone buzzes. MMS: ‘See you soon, slut.’ Photo of me plugged, ass up.
The Trace
That night shattered me. First real submission. No turning back. Innocence gone, hooked on her command. Girlfriend? How to explain? Heart still races remembering her toes, the pain, the fill. New horizons, terrifying thrill.
