Kitten's Debut

We met on AOL, back when it had just become The Next Big Thing in the 90s. Her name was Susan, and she was pretty, blonde, with East European roots. In the real world she was a paralegal at some law firm in Arlington Heights, a suburb of Chicago. She planned to clear out her son, Danny, so that we could have some adult time. We had talked via Immediate Message for months, and then spoke on the phone a few times and at last met briefly at the Gale Street Inn. I was single at the time, living in the city, and eager for some play. She was a big girl, with an enormous ass that I could not stop thinking about. She was nervous, and insecure about her weight and about being deliberately submissive for the first time. However, she had read about it and she felt that was who she was. I conveniently agreed with her. We had this conversation the Friday before we were to meet.

"I would like to come over Sunday at 11:30," I said.

"11:30 will be good. I'll just be getting home from church then."

My eyebrows rose with interest. "What will you be wearing to church?."

"Well.... a skirt, the navy one I think. I usually wear a white or a floral pattern on top. I'll change when I get home if you want."

"Goodness no. That is a perfect outfit." I continued, What shoes go with that outfit?

"I wear black flats," she said.

"I look forward to seeing you after church in that or a similar outfit. You should remember that a perfect pretense to redden your behind is that you "disappointed" me during inspection."

"Inspection?"

"Ms. Kamen, do you think I will come all the way out to Arlington Heights and not at the very least enjoy looking you over? I like the idea of looking at you intimately and perhaps spanking you If I think it's a good idea."

I listened to her reaction, trying to gauge what she was feeling. I said gently, " of course none of this is necessary. This is all for our pleasure. We can simply meet in public and have a cup of tea again and talk some more. Would you feel more comfortable that way? Or do you still want me to come over?."

She said quietly, "No, Russ, I would like you to come over." Her voice shook slightly in an endearing way.

I smiled to myself, planning, always planning. "Be a good girl. Say it again, Susan, at your normal voice level."

And she did so. This conversation was at about 5:30 on Friday. Fortunately, I had plans for most of the weekend, because I was eager to get 'Susie Cutie' (as I privately referred to her) to myself for the first time.

Sunday morning came. It was a cool, sunny March day, one that said 'spring is coming, but it'll be a while'. I got to Arlington Heights by 11:40. I pictured her having already checked the clock several times, making sure her apartment still looks neat, making sure the plate she put the selection of teas on looked nice, etc. Yes, I am sometimes mean enough to exploit a submissive's anxiety.

I stopped at a gas station close to where she lived. I used a pay phone to call her. Hardly anybody believes me, but back, in Neanderthal days, there were no cell phones. "Hello?" she said, her voice quiet but steady.

"Good morning, Susan. I'm close to your building. How was church?"

"It was very good, Russell."

"Sir. Today, you refer to me as "Sir." Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she said shyly.

"If anything puts you off or if you just have a question or comment simply say "Arlington," and play stops. Is that okay?"

"Yes, Russell. I mean-"

"I know what you meant." I raised my voice slightly and added a stern tone unfamiliar to her. "But, you already broke a rule, didn't you? We will revisit this violation."

"Yes, Sir." she said, nervously. What she had been thinking about for weeks, was finally starting.

" To initiate a scene I will say, 'The Sun is a star.' Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"The Sun is a star. After I hang up, you are to unlock your door, stand a few steps from it, hands clasped in front of you, feet together and head bowed. Is that Understood?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry about that mista-"

Curtly, I intoned, "You may not speak now unless you're given permission."

I hung up and drove the last two blocks, parked and walked up to Room 205. I paused in front of her door, knowing she could hear that I was there. I let her wait, knowing that right now, thirty seconds will seem like another entire day of waiting. After enjoying her continued simmering, I walked in.

She stood as instructed, wearing her navy blue skirt and a conservative, white blouse. Her head was bowed, her chin length hair down and attractively styled in a bob. I stood for a moment and looked around. Her apartment was neat. There were posters from the movies Metropolis and Aliens. She had a few Lladro figures in a curio cabinet, along with various other heirlooms. I liked her furniture, especially the leather chair by the couch.

I walked around her, examining her. "Clasp your hands more tightly," I said with purposeful impatience. She rushed to correct her hands, though they were just fine. I poked the small of her back. "Straighten your posture, Miss." I walked in front of her.

"Head and eyes up" I instructed. She complied. I wanted her to see me, since I may blindfold her later. I wore black slacks, a vanilla dress shirt, a black, red, and vanilla tie, and black loafers. I keep my auburn hair long, tied into a pony tail, but neatly trimmed.

I looked at her levelly and said sweetly, "You look lovely, Susan." She smiled shyly. A second later I said, " Head and eyes down." She complied. I went on. "This is your home position. When I say "Home position," this is how you are to hold yourself. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"From this position, if you are given an instruction, you will give me a slight curtsy when you say 'yes sir. Understood?

"Yes Sir." She curtsied, but it looked awkward for her.

"Demonstrate a slight curtsy for me so we can agree on how it should look."

She did so, slightly bending her knees. "Your knee bend was sufficient. Your arms should be spread more. Do it one more time." She did so, and I was pleased. "That is sufficient," I said.

"We are going to your kitchen. The proper posture for walking is with your head down, and hands clasped in front of you, two steps behind me. I will tell you to 'follow me', you will curtsy, say "yes sir" and then comply." I waited a second for this all to register and then I said

"Follow me." She complied beautifully. I walked into the kitchen with her following dutifully. "Show me where you keep spatulas and the like."

She walked over to a drawer and pointed to it, not sure what to do next. Nervously, she moved a medium sized stool that seemed to be out of place to a spot beneath the nearby telephone landline. I walked over to where she stood and instructed her.

"After you have complied with an instruction, return to the Home position if it's not obvious what to do next. If you are ever uncertain about what to do, return to Home. You won't be punished for returning to Home, unless you are deliberately disobeying me. Now, however, open the drawer."

She curtsied and then did so.

"What were you supposed to say, Ms. Kamen?"

"Yes Sir! Yes Sir. Sorry!"

I reached over to her upper arm and pinched it hard enough that she cried out, her face indignant. In a quiet voice I said "Ms. Kamen don't be melodramatic. This scene is for our enjoyment. I'm not crazy or disturbed. I simply corrected your behavior." I looked into the drawer. I pointed to a spatula that was relatively wide and made of a stiff plastic. "Pick up that item. Hold it respectfully with two hands and follow me." We returned to the living room.

In the living room I turned to her and said, "Stand in the Home position where you were when I walked in."

"Yes, Sir,' and she complied.

I stood close to her, on her left side. I whispered in her ear, "You're holding that spatula for me. What will I do with it?"

"You will spank me with it," she said quietly.

"Correct. Why am I going to spank you?"

"Because I have disappointed you."

"Yes. You must understand this also. You are a pretty, submissive woman, and I love spanking pretty, submissive ladies and putting them in their place. It gives me pleasure when you suffer for me. Your pain pleases me, little Susie Hotpants." I paused a second and then teased her, whispering "your pants get hot all the time, don't they?" I laughed a little, repeating my new, diminutive name for her.

"Yes Sir," she said. I walked to the leather chair and sat down. I asked, "Do you have a tray of tea available?" We had referred to the tea tray several times in past conversations.

"Yes, Sir," she answered.

She was still charmingly holding the spatula as if it was as fragile as a hummingbird. I said, "Give me the spatula, and bring the tray to me, Kitten.

She curtsied, said "yes Sir," and scampered off to the kitchen. She came back a minute later with a white, flowered plate with bags of various teas neatly arranged on it.

I looked at it for a moment and said, "The tray is sufficient." I told her, "make me a cup of Irish Breakfast, not too strong, and with a touch of creme. No sugar." I paused for a moment, and then playfully pinched her huge ass and said lecherously, "I'll bet you taste sweet enough." She said nothing, I think because she wasn't sure what to say. I instructed her.

"I gave you a lewd compliment. This isn't at work or any other awkward or legally difficult situation. It's our private world. The proper response is a quick curtsy, a "thank you, Sir," and then go on with your work. Try again, Kitten." I paused a second and said "I'll bet you taste sweet enough." She responded properly and nimbly. Pleased, I told her, "sufficient."

She went to the kitchen to make the tea. I sat, idly looking at a magazine on the nearby end table. After she gave me my tea, she returned to the Home position. I looked at her with, lewd intent, and no polite pretense. She is mine now, I thought. I examined her with absolutely lecherous intent.

I said to her, "Head up." She complied. "Do you know what I'm doing?" She shook her head no. I said sternly, "Verbal answer, Little Miss"

"No, Sir."

"I'm looking you over, deciding where and how I'm going to use you for my enjoyment. Slowly turn all the way, 360 degrees around. I want to enjoy the view. And keep your eyes open. I don't want you to escape inside your head." She did so. I looked at her breasts. As she turned I said, "Mmm, I will touch your pretty, big breasts. Stop. Hold your breasts for me, as if you're offering them to me." She was unsure what I wanted it seemed. I coached her a little and then it seemed like she suddenly 'became a slut,' and held them like an experienced stripper. I think about that transitional moment now all the time.

She continued her slow circle for me, until I was faced with her enormous behind. "Stop," I instructed. I took another sip and put down the cup and picked up the spatula. I walked in front of her, looking into her eyes, stepping back and looking at her hungrily. I came close to her, but not yet touching, and whispered, "Finally,"

But then, I was all business. "Hands behind you." I used the spatula to lightly touch her right ear. I said, "That stud earring is pretty, but next time wear a pair that hang down a bit. They're very flattering. I don't think anyone at church will call you a Jezebel for that." I continued to look her up and down. I tapped her chin. "Chin up." And then I tapped her collar, which was low on her neck. I said, "I prefer high collared blouses. They look even more (I laughed with feigned but deliberate taunting,) virginal. I'm sure nobody suspected today that Pious Susan was going to go home and show her body off like such a whore." I smiled and I unbuttoned her blouse part way. Her bra covered breasts were exposed. She was fortunately wearing a front clasp bra. I unhooked it and exposed her plump tits. I pulled them out also.

I ignored her for a minute. I walked away to a mirror that hung in her living room. I straightened my tie, neatened my pony tail. I Ha. This harlot clearly sees I'm ready to go out for a respectable lunch, while her tits are on display. I looked her in the eyes, smiling as I lecherously looked her up and down.

I walked next to her and put my hand on her right breast. I barely touched it, but I could hear her breath completely stop as I felt her full breast, and then ran my fingers over it until my two fingers had her perfect nipple. It was very large and exciting to feel. I teased it until it swelled more than a half inch. I continued to pull and tease it, watching Susan's face as pleasure crossed it. I put my hand gently on her head, pulled it toward me, and kissed her cheek. I cleared my throat and said, "Turn all of the way around so that you are facing the chair. It's time to examine you carefully." I sat back down.

She was well into her submissive zone then and she said nothing, but she complied. I had been waiting months for this moment. I said in my most strict voice, "Lift your skirt, Ms. Kamen." I don't know if she had been practicing, but she lifted her skirt slowly and teasingly. I saw her shoes (NOTE: Susan will tart up her foot wear next time), her shins, knees, thighs, and finally her yellow cotton underwear.

I cleared my throat, and said with deliberate indignity I said, "Are you aware, Madame, that your underwear is wet?"

"Yes, Sir." Her voice jumped an octave

"You stained your underwear," enjoying my snide, judgemental tone.

She did not answer. She shook her head, unsure of what to say. I caressed her face. She tried to smile but the emotions of the moment were too much. I brought my face close to her ear and whispered, "Do you want me to touch that stain"

"Please," she said. I brought my hand close to the stain. I was so close, but I let my fingers dance around, and not actually touch her sensitive wet spot.

"Please!" she said, pleading now.

I smiled sweetly at her. I then curtly told her, "No," and I gave her ass a light spank.

I took a deep breath and then tickled her ear affectionately and said, "I'm pleased with you, Slutty Susan. I have to correct you in several ways, however. As I said before, sometimes I will punish you to correct your reprehensible behavior and your shamefully hungry vagina. Other times I will spank you simply because I enjoy spanking you." "Home position," I instructed. I walked over to the dining room table. "Come here." She did so, walking in the way I had instructed her. "Raise your skirt, and then hold it as you put your hands on the table." I loved the feeling of power I had as I stood close to her and pulled the waistband of her underwear teasingly down her legs until they were at her knees. Left them there. I stepped back and gasped at how beautiful that image was: my lover holding up her skirt, with her wet underwear, at her knees. She had on those doughty shoes, which deliciously contrasted with her plump, exposed ass, and her steamy cunt.

"You failed to call me Sir, when the scene started; you are wearing rather plain underwear--I expect you next time to have on a more enticing pair; you 'ahem' stained this pair like some desperate whore." I snickered mockingly and continued, "It pleases me how excited your pussy becomes. But you would be naive if you thought such overt sluttiness won't be punished.

I began a careful spanking, warming up on her upper butt, by her hips and gradually concentrating on the center of each cheek, enjoying the way they steadily grew crimson. As I increased the intensity, she began to cry out in the most charming way. It wanted to spank her much harder. I began to threaten and admonish her with phrases like "You really are such a slut," and "I may have to get a more severe instrument," and "what am I going to do with such a slutty girl?" "She can't control herself." "Her vagina is ALWAYS swollen and wet!" After muttering that last phrase I spanked her especially hard four more times. I think she wanted to safe word, but she reached back and touched my hand. I knew then that she had enough.

But I was not ready to move on and I was unsure of her status. She was breathing hard, so I put my hand on her back and held her by the arm. "Arlington," I said, then I asked, "are you ok?"

She nodded, cleared her throat, and said "yes Sir." I waited a second longer. I pulled her underwear all the way down and with no sense of self consciousness, I rolled them up and put them in my pocket. Her cum and excitement are now mine, I thought. She had already released her skirt and I smoothed it out. I then reminded her that, "The sun is a star," and that she should return to the home position. I whispered to her. "I'm going to get the stool in the kitchen. Go to the leather chair and wait." I looked back a second later and sternly admonished, "pick your skirt back up!"

She curtsied and said, "Yes, Sir." She is such a good girl. I walked quickly back into the kitchen and picked up the stool from beneath the phone. I walked back into the living room and placed it by the leather chair. I touched her cheek again, but she smiled and nodded that she was fine. I told Susan, "Sit there, like a lady.

She complied. I grinned my evil smile at her. I picked the spatula up. I looked her over carefully. I touched her chin again and reminded her, "Chin up." I tapped her lower back. "Straighten your posture." I tapped one of her shoes (she had crossed her legs), "Toes should be pointed." I circled her again.

I smiled at her, and said, "You look so beautiful." Her face relaxed. I continued to smile and added, "Now, open your knees." She did so. "Wider," I said testily. She quickly complied and I enjoyed invasively looking at her. "Use your fingers, and give yourself an orgasm. " She feverishly and with no embarrassment began to masturbate. It was such an erotic sight, I nearly forgot I was in the middle of a scene. After about a minute of furious pussy play, I told her, "You have thirty seconds to orgasm. Not. One. Second. More." Her tempo increased, but by design she did not have enough time. In about thirty seconds, I told her, "Stop." I was about to spank the backs of her hand if she did not obey me, but she was a good girl.

I circled her again, taking my time. I said in an off-hand tone, "You may have another thirty seconds." She exhaled hard and went back to the work of achieving orgasm. I looked at her with lust until it was time to again stop her. This time after stopping her, I deeply kissed her, pulled her nipples, and kissed her neck while she waited. I told her, "You now have twenty seconds, starting now."

She tried again, but with joy I told her to "stop," She looked up at me, pleadingly. Never before had I felt more powerful. Mercifully, I said to her, "This will be your last chance to orgasm. Reach with both hands, and open your vagina and expose your clitoris."

She complied desperately. I moved closer to her and pressed my knee and lower thigh directly on her exposed clitoris. I told her, "You may rub against my leg until you orgasm. You may grab my leg or anything else for leverage. This is the only way you are allowed to orgasm."

She was, already, very close to orgasm. The degradation of humping her dominant's leg like a dog was exactly what she needed to push her over the edge. She shook, and cried out. I felt her nails dig into my flesh as she grabbed my knee frantically. I was delighted later to realize my knee was soaked nearly all of the way through my slacks, and her ecstatic cries echoed in the room. I held her affectionately by the shoulders, and caressed her head.

A few minutes went by and I kissed her cheek and pulled away. I brought over a light blanket that I had seen draped on the couch. "You were a good girl,' I told her. I led her over to the couch draped in the blanket. We talked quietly and laughed. I gave her a homework assignment (a one paragraph reaction to out scene, which (clearing my throat) would be graded for content and mechanics. When we only had an hour until Danny would be home, I gave her an adoring spank and went home.