Sugar Daddy's Mistress Pt. 01

The first time mistress agreed to meet me face to face was at a cafe. She was on her way back from the gym but had agreed to give me twenty minutes of her time. I had guessed it was some sort of a test but I didn't know what the test would be.

She had arrived forty minutes late at the café we were supposed to meet in. By the time she was there, I was a nervous wreck. I knew she wouldn't like me calling or texting to check if she was still coming; so had just had to wait it out, playing with my phone, checking my watch a hundred time, wondering whether she would come or not.

I had spotted her the moment she had entered. She is not someone one easily misses spotting. She was still in her gym clothes. Reddish black polyester tights which came down to just below her knees and had semi transparent stripes at the side, which deliciously accentuated her well toned legs and bums. On top she was wearing a sports bra with a short open jacket, which left large parts of her tummy and back and shoulders exposed. Just looking at her perfect tummy and her navel gave me the goosebumps.

In person she looked younger and sexier than she did on her cam. I felt ancient and outmatched in every way. If I didn't have the money and wasn't prepared to fund her extravagant lifestyle (which in her just-out-of-university job could she could in no way afford), someone like her wouldn't even have taken a second glance at me. But till now we had both (I think) got what we wanted from the relationship.

For an hour of her time online every weekend, time during which she got to rule over me like a queen and treat me like shit and during which I enjoyed giving up all control and being an obedient slave or doggy or sissy or whatever took her fancy that day, she would get expensive gifts and things from her online wishlist.

This had gone on for about a year and we both thought we were ready to take out relationship to the next level -- after all there is only so much fun you can have online. I had very humbly proposed a holiday together to the Canaries, all expenses paid. But she wasn't ready for that yet.

She had wanted to meet me first. Test me out. She didn't want to be stuck in a resort with a ugly and fat middle aged man with body odour or smelly breath for two weeks (as she put it). This had hurt a little, as I pride myself in having a very fit body for my age. But I was used to the humiliation from her. So anyway, we decided to meet face to face for the first time and if that meeting went well, go through a trial period -- she wanted to try before she bought, as she put it.

So this meeting in the cafe was like a test for me. Probably much more stressful than my first job interview -- as I was sure if this didn't work out I would never hear from her again. It wasn't as if I was her only fan. It was make or break. So I was already nervous and by the time she came over, casually pulled up a chair opposite to and sat down with a sigh, I was almost breaking into a cold sweat.

I said greetings mistress, as I usually do online. I couldn't still believe I was sitting at touching distance from her. I could smell the sweet floral perfume she was wearing and see the sweat glistening on the part of her cleavage left exposed by the bra.

I'm thirsty. Get me some water, she announced, without bothering to greet me or say hello. She seemed to be in a bad mood. I hurried and bought a bottle of water from the counter. This was a mistake. She had wanted her own gym water bottle filled rather than a new bottle. I don't want a new bottle you idiot, she said loudly enough for the girl at the counter to steal a glance in our direction. Think of the environment. Return it and get my bottle filled with tap water, she said with some irritation.

We were already off to a bad start. The girl at the counter wouldn't take the bottle back. But after some persuasion and maybe taking pity on me seeing how mistress was behaving with me, she agreed to exchange it for any other items we ordered. I bought a piece of black forest cake and a large mocha for her as instructed. And got her bottle filled with tap water. And nothing for me. Although I was thirsty and feeling a bit peckish as well, I didn't want to make another mistake.

She had looked into my eyes and had kept looking, holding her gaze with her confident, superior and slightly amused expression which she has when she sometimes deals with me. An expression which I have now known to love and fear as it tells me that she is planning to play with me, like a cat with a mouse it has trapped.

I couldn't hold her gaze for more than a few moments and had to look away. She had started eating the cake, still looking at me. Then she had taken out the half eaten piece of cake from her mouth and had kept it back on the plate. She had picked up the coffee, had barely a sip from it and kept it back, but not before she openly spat into it.

I had known then what the test was. I was conscious of the young couple sitting on the table just few feet from us. They must have seen what she had done. They were of the same age as her. And the middle aged guy in the table opposite. He was more my age. He must have been wondering what someone like mistress was doing with someone like me. I had watched him gazing hungrily at her a few times, like he was trying to imagine what lay beneath that little sports bra. Anyway the dress hugged her body so closely that it left little to imagination.

Anyone of them could have seen what she had done. Even the young girl behind the counter. Her taking out the half eaten cake from her mouth, her spitting into the coffee had been slow deliberate actions, designed to make sure that others saw it. And that was all part of the test.

I had taken the plate with the cake and the spoon which had been just in her glorious mouth (I thought I could still smell her lipstick on it) and had proceeded to eat every last morsel of it like it was the best food I ever had. Then I had picked up the coffee. Her spit had made a big blob piercing the white foam heart the barista had made. I should have known that that was some sort of a sign of things to come in the future. I had sipped the coffee like any normal coffee. And that was the first time I had the honour of drinking her nectar (which I must say I have been so lucky to be granted in various forms on many occasions since).

I hadn't looked up but I felt as if the other people were watching me. The young couple in the next table. The middle aged guys opposite. It wasn't the eating of food from her mouth or drinking the coffee with her spit that was difficult. It was doing it in the public. With others watching. I could feel my ears and cheeks turn red and hot with embarrassment. But that exactly had been the test. She had wanted to humiliate me in public. And she had succeeded in doing that. And so far I had passed.

The rest of the morning had been easier. After the cafe mistress had gone for some shopping. First to a high end boutique. Where I had had to stand outside the waiting room giving her this and that, occasionally running back to the isles to fetch a different size of something. I had thoroughly enjoyed that. The thought of mistress naked behind the flimsy little curtain had given me a hard on. The part I hadn't enjoyed was when at the counter she had handed everything in and stood aside for me to pay the eye watering bill which she had racked up. This is also something I have grown used to now, and set aside a considerable part of my salary to do it. But at that first time it had felt hard, very hard.

Anyway, all the shopping had put mistress in a very good mood. She had said she wanted to give me a treat, taking me home. Thinking that she just wanted to relax and have a chat (how naive of me), I had offered for us to go to my home instead, which I was sure would be much more comfortable than her shared apartment. She hadn't even bothered answering my request.

So after trudging behind her carrying all hoe shopping, changing two different lines on the tube and walking a considerable distance from the tube station to a nondescript block of flats on a non descript road, we had finally arrived. Being a fitness freak she had said she doesn't like taking the lift so I had to climb up six flights of stairs behind her with all the bags, arriving somewhat out of breath to door number 42.

What I hadn't expected to find when she was opening the door was that the other occupants of the shared apartment would be sitting there in the living room, watching TV. There were two other girls sitting on the sofa, roughly the same age as mistress. A long haired blond who seemed absorbed in her phone and a brunette with a really short boyish looking hair cut who was also absorbed in her phone but had looked up for a second, cast me a scrutinising glance and said to mistress, new one Reb? To this Rebecca, my mistress, had replied yes, let's see how long he lasts.

The only other occupant of the sofa, a greyish black cat, the only one of the three actually watching the TV when I had entered, had also briefly glanced at me, flicked it's tail, yawned, and gone back to watching Love is Blind on the TV.

Mistress had taken me to her room. It looked as if a mini tornado had picked up each item in it and placed it at exactly the most wrong place the item could be in -- pillows on the ground, half spilled packet of crisps on the bed, laptop on the window sill, bundles of clothes hear and there, bras and panties hanging from hooks on the wall and so on.

Her gift for me was under the bed. A crumpled maid's dress. A costume to be more specific -- French maid costume type things which you get at lingerie stores, with a teeny tiny skirt, see through lacy things at the back, black nets where the boobs are supposed to be, pretty much not leaving much to imagination. It looked well worn Probably by all the others before me. And never washed. I could almost smell the staleness of the sweat of all the others. Maybe cum as well.

Mistress had watched with satisfaction while I had taken off all my clothes and to put it on. I had enjoyed it too. For a man of my age I would say I had quite a fit and lean body. By the time I had taken everything off I had a full blown hard on. I had stood like that in front of her for a moment, like some sort of a middle aged Adonis. Not sure what I had been expecting -- perhaps that my irresistible attraction would make her automatically bend over, pull down her tights and beg me to ride her with all my might.

Nothing of that sort had happened. She had kicked me in my balls to express her irritation and then had flung the maids costume in my direction. I had put it on but the kick had done nothing to cure the hard on. She had then proceeded to take out one of those penis cages things from somewhere and put it on me, locking it and keeping the keys in the pocket of her tights. It had been painful but had been worth it. Because to do it, she had to grab my instrument in her hands. And the first time she had touched me, even though it was just momentary, is something I would never forget. It had been like having sex for the first time.

Anyway, suitably satisfied that I was now in the right uniform for the job and my cock wasn't indecently peeping from below my skirt, she had then proceeded to talk me through the chores. I had to start with tidying up her room. I never thought this would be possible but I had managed to do a semi decent job of it in about an hour. To keep me motivated, I had kept the best for the last, tidying up her underwear. All the clean ones I had beautifully folded, grouped by colour and arranged in one of the drawers. All the dirty ones I had even more carefully handled, taking a risk to bury my face in each one, take in a deep breath to feel her aroma and then put them in the laundry bag one by one. All the while she had sat on the bed, scrolling through her Instagram feed, occasionally looking up to see what I was doing. She hadn't seemed to mind my sniffing her panties.

After her bedroom, my next task had been to vacuum the living room. The brunette had gone out somewhere but the long haired blond seemed to have been suitably impressed by my work ethic, as she had asked me to help with her room as well. I quite liked her. She was shorter than mistress, with a somewhat less toned body, more plump, but with a very sweet face, almost round, with soft grey eyes. And unlike mistress I think she had liked my body. I had worked hard in her room, bending over all the furniture and crawling under the bed with the vacuum so that she could stare at my crotch all she wanted. Which she did, to my delight.

However, nothing much came off it. My mistress seemed to be getting a bit impatient with helping the other girl. She scolded me for not asking for her permission and the other girl, who also seemed a little afraid of mistress, didn't say anything and slunk back to her room. After a few other things, it was lunch time. Luckily I am not that bad a cook and both mistress and the other girl liked the french toasts I had quickly rustled up.

I was hungry as well. So I got to sit on the floor beside mistresses chair, opposite the cat, who had now done down from the sofa and was sitting next to the other girl, looking at me somewhat suspiciously. The other girl fed the cat bits from her plate. Mistress did the same for me. Unlike the cat who got to feed from it's the girls hands, my pieces were thrown on the floor near mistresses feet and I was asked to lick them up without touching them with my hand. When mistress saw was lapping them and doing a much better job than the cat, she decided to up the game a bit. I had to sit on my knees on the floor with my mouth open and begging with my hands like a dog. Mistress would occasionally spit a half chewed piece she didn't like into my mouth.

The cat didn't seem very happy at having a competitor. But mistress was very happy with me. The other girl also remarked how good I was compared to the others. Looked like I had passed my probation. Mistress wanted to reward me. I had received lots of bonuses and performance linked reward at various points at work but nothing brought me the happiness and pleasure compared to what she gave me. She asked me to help with her bath.

We went to her room. I prepared the bathroom with some scented candles. She was still in her gym clothes. I helped her take the off, imagining myself to be the servant of some queen of ages gone by. I had seen her body so many times on camera before but she still took my breath away. It was like she was sculptured out of marble. Everything was perfect. She saw me looking at her and smiled. Not the I am playing with you smile but a genuine loving smile. Do you want to worship me my little one -- she cooed in her softest voice. She knew what the answer was, I didn't have to say anything.

She had the sweet smell of sweat mixed with flowery deodorant. Some of her skin and muscles were still red from the workout. Parts of her still sticky and glistening with sweat. I started from her feet, her toes. Kissing each one in turn. Licking the underside of her feet. Slowly moving up. Up, up, kissing and licking every inch, the backs of her knees, her inner thighs, just a few inches below her sex.

She let out a moan. But she wasn't ready for me to drink from her well yet. So she grabbed my hair and pulled me up. She lifted one of her arms and exposed her armpit. I buried my face in the sticky sweaty heaven. My tongue darting in and out in little furtive explorations of the valley. Maybe she was feeling a little ticklish, she giggled a little and pushed me away softly. But I knew she was enjoying it. So like a little puppy I nuzzled back in. This time trying long licking strokes of my tongue.

Mistress was totally relaxed now. I couldn't believe my luck. I went all over her upper body. After the armpits I did her neck. And shoulders. And then her breasts. Her nipples were hard by now. She didn't have very big breasts but they were perfectly shaped. I worshipped the soft white mounds. She drew my face in and directed me this way and that. Then she pushed me down.

I was kissing the sensous curves of her tummy now. First the sides, then the middle. Near her navel. I could feel her getting warmer, redder, with the increased blood flow. She had her hand on the back of my head now. Softly grabbing my hair. Moaning every now and then. A gentle ummm, ummm, ummm.

She pushed me down further. Her soft pubic hair was in my face. I could sense her wetness. I started kissing gently, repeatedly. But then something happened. She moved away and pushed me roughly. I wasn't expecting this. I lost my balance and fell backwards on the bed

I lay there, waiting for her to make the next move. She got up and fiddled around a bit in her cupboard. Her back to me. O how I wanted to get up, grab her from behind and bury my hardness into the cleavage between those soft round buns. But I didn't so anything. Just lay there waiting. She came back with some rope.

She tied me down, hands and feet, to the bedstead. I lay on the bed sprawling. My hard on rising like a little tower. She wanted to ride me. The only question was where. She chose to ride my face. I was completely in her hands now. Pretty much the only thing I had to do was just lie there and stick my tongue out. She wasn't very gentle. But I enjoyed every moment of her grinding moaning frenzy. Right till the last moment when she reached a crescendo and finished in a quivering whimpering heap over me, her cum gushing all over my face.

There was so much of it, in my mouth, in my nose, even in my eyes, I almost gagged. I licked up as much as I could. My hands were still tied so I couldn't wipe my face. It was mistress who helped me. She was full of love now. She cleaned up my face with her panties. And then she kissed me. A deep long kiss. As if I was her boyfriend. I was really grateful.

It was time for me to leave. I asked her if I could stay but she said no. But she took pity on me and gave me her panties. The one she had worn to the gym, the one she had cleaned my face with. I buried my face in then and took a deep breath. I could smell her, her sweat, her cum, the mustiness of her sex and her bum. I was happy. I took it home, to keep beside my pillow.

Also, as she came down to let me out, she mentioned that she would be happy to go on the Canaries trip with me. I was ecstatic. But then she said she would bring someone else with her. A man. A real man, not a sissy like me. And I would need to pay for both of them

It was like she had stabbed me in the back. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't say no. I didn't want to say yes. But I had no other option. I might never get the chance again. So I said yes.

As I left I could see the cruel I'm just playing with you smile hovering over her face again.