Directed: His First Account

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He writes to HER Direction, on an early CFNM experience.
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IFOnle
IFOnle
20 Followers

Written under the Direction of and Approved by IF.

*****

She ['Katie', if that was her name] returned from the Ladies, slid elegantly into the nook - and smoothly across until the warmth of her hip was pressed to mine. "Thank you," she turned, biting down quickly on my earlobe, then taking up the fresh glass of wine I'd ordered in her absence.

She was attractive. Very. Although she claimed it to be 'purely the fortunate product of good genes', she was a little too blonde to be natural and clearly the product of considerable efforts at maintenance overall. And it worked. Gone 40ish, at least, the money and effort had kept her trim and firm and sexy, and, well, the fun-loving-stroke-kinky part was probably innate - but this was probably made more obtainable, and or at least more acceptable, because of the money. How else would she have the pure hutzpah to snug up beside, and drop her hand nonchalantly on the erect cock of a naked-from-the-waist down-male probably close to half her age?... in a public bar?

Okay, it wasn't the Ritz, or any caliber beyond the basic really. But it was a bar... and it was public...and there were people around: 60 or 70 by my nervous-flickabout not-want-to-meet-anyone's-eye count.

And you already know discretion wasn't her concern. As proven by the way she casually moved in on me, nibbling my ear and chuckling in a manner only the truly confident, and wealthy, could imagine being appropriate. As if any attention she did draw was no concern of hers.

Which it wasn't. Or wouldn't be. Because it was me who lacked the basic elements of modesty if found out...ie clothes.

Noblesse Oblige. That was the term. Despite being an historian, well, a history grad student, I was so shocked by the whole afternoon I'd been drawing a blank...on most things, and certainly on historical terms. She had the full blown Noblesse Oblige fuck-the-peasants attitude - up to and including stripping me of my jeans, briefs, socks and shoes.

Now her hand was stroking me, slowly.

Clearing my throat, and moistening it with a swallow of wine, I said: "Any chance I can win back, you know, my clothes?"

She laughed, too loud of course. Decibels too loud. The temp in that bar escalated exponentially as heads turned in our direction. While she went right on stroking me, forcing me to rise involuntarily and hover a little above the upholstered bench seat.

"Are you serious?" she asked, also too loud.

"Yes. Please."

She took her hand away and I dropped like a stone into a pond onto the seat. Her hand came to rest on my thigh instead and she said, "What's in it for me?" As the hand already started working its way back toward my exposed, vulnerable erection.

How do you answer that? Especially when my shoes, socks, jeans and briefs had disappeared into her handbag and she, the handbag and my clothes had disappeared into the Ladies. So she was feeling protective of her winnings, obviously, and judging from her overall attitude she'd feel even better for stripping me of my shirt. Preferably here presumably. So she could show me off as a prize.

"Could we continue, you know, somewhere else?"

Chuckling, she shook her head, then clamped down on my earlobe once again, briefly, but hard enough to mist my eyes, moving her hand all the way back to brush my erection as she said, "And how do you propose to get out of here? - since you're clearly sensitive about being seen as you are, so to speak?"

She had a point. And an educated hand - and a body and a smile to die for. And a dog-with-a-bone attitude. "And I still want to know what's in it for me?"

I exhaled, slowly, took another sip.

"All I have left is, umh, this," I plucked quickly at the front of my shirt, glancing around again in case anyone was paying heed to us...to me.

"That's the only garment you have left, true." She paused, eyes fixed on mine. "Oh, come now. When we met online..."

On an adult pickup site.

"...I said I like my men young, hard, naked and at my beck and call..."

That was true.

"...and you said you'd always enjoyed a bit of CFNM experimentation..."

Were the two women to our left looking over this way? It dawned on me most of the customers were female. You have to believe me, I was that horny and, I don't know, that something, I simply hadn't put it together - that a bar in the major shopping district of town at one in the afternoon would be all women of a certain age taking a break for wandering the aisles and discount bins.

"...especially with a firm take-charge lady," she continued, completing her thought.

"That's true, but..."

She laughed, interrupting me, same volume as before. "Yes, your naked butt is on the bench and you're down to your shirt. While I'm here ready, willing and able to take charge. " Her smile broadened. "And put you through a few paces."

"Sounds like both of our fantasies come true," I muttered. Intending sarcasm.

"You did take $100 at the outset of our date."

That was true. It was so I could buy her drinks, etc., and act like an actual male date. Although it was sort of implied that anything not used would simply stay in my pocket. But now the two women next booth over were definitely interested - and I had no pockets for the remaining money.

"Exactly." Removing her hand from my erection, seemingly drawing me off the bench once again to chase it. "On three. One, two, three..."

She produced scissors to my paper, tilting the earth. Because that was how I ended up stark naked in a not very fashionable bar in the downtown area at 1pm so most of the clientele were females of a certain age and disposition...

"Nope," Back in real time, Izzy pushed the laptop across the two feet of island between us - to me. "Details."

I'd thought that account was detailed. But before I could question her, elicit a clearer idea of what she meant my throat seemed to close over, literally, when her hand suddenly seized upon my erection. From the other side, but every bit as firmly as [Katie] back in that bar—and with every bit the same instant boost in my level of sheer horniness.

And before I could contemplate this phenomenon, Izzy was very close to my ear, whispering: "And you actually took money from an older woman to play strip games in a public bar."

Not a question, notice. A statement. To withstand her hand and its slow, undeniably sexy ministrations I forced my mind back to the original encounter. Online...

'Face not required,' she, who I now knew to be too blonde, and wealthy, and named 'Katie', had typed into the chat room text box, followed by one of those fulsome-toothed smile emojis.

I'd stripped, rushed around, got the lighting right, got the angle right in the full length mirror - on the third attempt...rushed back and posted the pic in the chat room.

The female response was impressive, it being an open chatroom.

Hers was 'Wow! Do I pay by the pound or the inch??? Lol' followed by 'Just how big is that hunk of loveliness?' followed, once I'd proven it was 9 inches from base of shaft to tip (with a photo), by 'Okay, by the inch it is *wink emoji* but I insist on full majority control' followed by 'EXACTLY *yes, all caps*'...this latter in response to another female posting 'YUMM... SLAVE CONTRACT!!???'

Back in real time, Izzy again pushed the laptop in my direction, her eyes positively twinkling. "You took money to lose at strip games?"

"Well..."

"To an older woman," she interrupted, 'in a public bar."

Put that way, it was hard to dispute. More importantly, her lovely eyes were locked on mine, twinkling.

"Was it the slave contract," her fingers described air commas, "interaction in the chatroom? - or did she make the purchase arrangement clear when you met?"

"Tough question," I replied, trying to pass it off. But she wasn't letting go. In fact her eyes were still locked on mine, so I stumbled. "I thought the online chatroom conversation might mean, well, yes it was exciting to think she planned to buy me."

"And?"

"When we met in the bar, I said, charmingly of course - with a wry smile - your slave to command, mam."

"You didn't!?"

I did. Just like I said.

"And she said?"

"Lovely. She said the one word, lovely. And opened her purse to count out five $20s onto the tabletop." Feeling the heat rise on my cheeks at the memory, I added, "Which I didn't have time to gather up before the female server arrived to take our order."

"Really? So the server thought you were bought and paid for." I nodded and she chuckled, adding, "And her ladyship thought you were okay with her not being discreet because you'd given her control."

"Possibly. That hadn't occurred to me."

"Men?!" Chuckling, Izzy sipped her wine, eyes fixed on mine. "For gods sake you said, quote, 'your slave to command, mam'. What was she meant to think?"

"It was a joke...a throwaway - something to, you know, lighten the mood."

Chuckling, and shaking her head now, she said, "Tell me something...did you lose every game as well?"

"Not every game. But I stuck with paper so she soon figured it out."

"Meaning she could..." Breaking off for a full wholesome laugh, she took a good few seconds, and a few wipes of her cheeks, to get back under control - so to speak. Then she very carefully elaborated. To wit: "So she's paid for you and in her view you've agreed to a contract - a SLAVE CONTRACT, wherein she as the party of the first part owns you, the party of the second part, and she owns this," her hand closed firmly on my now quivering erection," the oh so gorgeous party of the third part..."

"Noblesse Oblige," I murmured, immediately rueing the comment when her hand abruptly squeezed my erection again - bringing me perilously close to orgasm. Which would contravene Rule Number One, with whatever consequence that entailed. So I was hanging on, not even breathing, when the wave subsided - and I heard her voice seem to fade in from some distance away.

"Good analogy. I like it. From her perspective, she can do what she likes with you, when she wants, where she wants and how she wants. Making matters even worse, or better, if I was she I would see it as better, you seem determined to lose entirely on her whim - so on my whim. I bet you didn't even insist on anything for the odd bet you did win...except for the pitiful i-get-to-keep-my socks, briefs, whatever for another few minutes. Entirely at your discretion, mam..."

That last word was a whiplash, a direct hit on the hyper sensitized tip of my quivering, trapped cock - or so it seemed to me. And 'seemed' in sex may as well be 'IS'...as you may have noticed.

"So she could play with you, entirely at her own pace and discretion - and not in the least discreetly."

"Put that way." I took a large swallow of my wine. Then turned to take the bottle from the counter behind, and refilled both of our glasses.

"How would you put it?" Izzy teased, eyes twinkling as she raised her glass in mock toast.

"Yes, mam, no, mam - thine wish is my command, mam. Shall I tug my forelock, mam?"

"No, but I have found some wax so when you've finished writing this account, to MY satisfaction, we'll be dealing with," her chin dipped to my pubic area, followed by her fingertips -to pluck gently at my pubes themselves "yon forelock..."

IFOnle
IFOnle
20 Followers
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5 Comments
AnonanonymousAnonanonymousabout 6 years ago
Love it!

You have our undivided attention...and approval. Superb!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago
Brilliant

I bet, unfortunately, it runs afoul of the quick-wank-in-the-bathroom brigade because it is:

* brilliant

* subtle

and in my experience, extremely accurate in how it unravels.

Another one, please, as soon as possible.

I give it 5 stars!

OENsHIMOENsHIMabout 6 years ago
"And 'seemed' in sex may as well be 'IS'...as you may have noticed..."

And then there's the reinforcement...

I love smoothing the wax strip into place...pausing to exhale...watching him quiver in expectation

But this isn't about us.

Super story.

Do continue, please...

AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago
What s/he said

Yes please...soon!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago
Well done, finish it!

Soon!

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