Exploring the World: Jennifer’s Way


At 30, the peak of my female hormones screaming at me to do something with them other than finger my softest parts, I found myself still alone. I was afraid I wasn’t beautiful enough, yet every time I looked in the mirror (other than on fat days) I thought I looked pretty good. Sexy, even. Long dark hair, pretty eyes, and a nice (though not perfect) line of curves that complimented the mild tan of my skin.

Sexuality for me was always my most profound expression, though more often than not it was my mind that “went the farthest”. My boyfriends had ranged from the timid to the adventurous, but I think I may have scared some of them a little with my own wild side.

But what happened to me was something I could never have expected, even if I did fantasize about certain aspects of it now and again.

Her name was Jennifer, and at 19, she was the youngest in the Abnormal Psych class I was taking just for fun at the Junior College. She was infectiously funny, and she was also drop-dead stunning in an innocent way that made me both envious, and in that tiny fantasy part of me, a little excited. She had shoulder blade length supra-soft looking brunette hair, much lighter than mine, but not blonde. A smallish face that was very bright when she smiled (which was often), a petite body that was very well toned but still curvy. Honestly, she had the body and face most women would die to have, and in a different way, so would virtually every man.

We became great friends, having lunch just about every day, and going to movies and to clubs on weekends. Without noticing it at first, I found myself answering probing questions from her whose depth into my psyche increased each time we went out together. After six months of this, I did start to wonder.

Then at last I came to understand what was happening when one night at my home, after we had been drinking wine, I insisted she stay over instead of driving home.

Sitting on the couch, she had gotten ready for bed by stripping down to her panties and a white satin camisole, and she sat with a half-empty glass of wine in her hand.

“Why do you always ask me those questions?” I said out of the blue. “Am I going to be your term paper?”

She giggled, her bright smile infecting me so that I smiled too. “No. But I have been making sure you were the right one to ask!”

“What else do you have left to ask? You know just about everything!”

Stretching languidly, she set down her wine glass and swayed gently across the room, glancing back at me over her shoulder as she walked toward the kitchen. I did try not to watch her body, but the skin of the small of her back was exposed right down to the start of the cleft in her bottom. I swallowed.

What she did wouldn’t even enter my brain’s processing area. It was like seeing something totally surreal, and your mind just won’t comprehend it.

Jennifer was standing next to my pantry, and she took the extra dog collar I had there off the ring, and she placed it around her neck, looping it through, then locking it into place. It didn’t have studs or anything, but the effect was immediate. This 19 year old girl had just put a black dog collar on her own neck in my house, and now she was walking back toward me, her eyes now smoky and bedroomy, and she was definitely swaying her hips.

My mouth was wide open, and dry as a desert rock bed. Nothing was coming to my mind. It had been emptied. I could only gape as she came toward me, then knelt onto the carpet at my feet, her hair spilling out over her back, the black of the collar stark against the lightness of her skin.

And she was still smiling.

“I have one more thing to ask,” she said breathily.

I could only croak out a noise in response.

“I watched you for awhile, and I asked you all those questions because I had to be sure it was you,” she said, “and it is. I want you to take me…if you accept, I want you to have total control over me in every way. Every word of yours a command to me. Anything you want at all.”

Though this was more than any part of me could handle, I still managed to stammer, “But I’m not gay…”

She smiled brighter, shaking her head so that her hair shimmered. “I said in every way. If you only want me to be your maid, that’s fine. Whatever you want. If you say yes, I don’t make the rules, you do.”

“Why…?” I asked, still stunned, still looking into those innocent, smoky green eyes.

Shrugging, she said, “When they’re young, some people want to backpack around Europe…explore the world. This is what I want to explore. Will you take me?”

“I…,” I stuttered again, breathing really hard as I looked at her, kneeling, her bare feet pouting out from under her bottom, her knees parted, her camisole open enough that I could see down to the swell of her breasts. I was really starting to breathe too fast. “I…I mean how long? A day, A week…”

“No,” she said. “Until you want to release me. It’s up to you.”

I swallowed air deeply, closing my eyes, and as I exhaled, strange words came from my mouth. “What if I didn’t release you?”

There was no pause. She istanbul escort said quietly, “Then I guess we’d live happily ever after.”

I don’t know what made me say it, but I can still hear it echoing in my mind as I whispered, “Yes. Yes, I’ll take you.”

* * *

So there it was. I had my own 19 year old sumptuous brunette slave, to do with as I pleased. It was incomprehensible, really. That night, moments afterward, she was still looking up at me, her collar on tight, her eyes smoky and green and hungry for something that I didn’t know how to give her then. But she was mine, not the reverse. So I told her just to sit there, exactly as she was, while I figured out what I wanted to do.

I paced. I cooked myself some food, which I couldn’t eat. I put on three different CD’s, but none were right. All the while I watched her, just sitting there, bare feet under her satin panties, back slightly arched, looking up at the place where I had been on the couch. She hadn’t moved at all.

I stood behind her, looking down her back. The cleft of her cheeks was even more visible from my vantage point, and those pouty little toes. She still didn’t move. reached out and touched her hair, just to see if I could. It was soft, blown-dry but well conditioned so it was full of body. At that point she did move slightly, tilting her head back to give me more access to her hair. Her reaction startled me, and I pulled away, going back into the kitchen to get another glass of wine.

I sat at my kitchen table then, just watching her not move at all. Her hands were on her slightly parted thighs, and I could see the pink of her feet beginning to turn a little bluish from the constant pressure, but still I just watched. For over an hour. My mind racing.

What had I done? What would I do? I could ‘release’ her right now, and be done with it…but then again, I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I had no idea what I wanted to do with her, or have her do to/for me, but to have my own voluntary slave is a thing that literally never happens, and yet here it was. She was mine. All mine.

I went to her then, knelt behind her, much like she was doing, and I reached both hands out for her hair. Again, she tilted her head back, this time much farther, so I could look down the bridge of her nose to her parted lips, and I just sat there, playing with her hair. I stroked it, I smelled it, I braided it and unbraided it. I got up, so eager with excitement that I felt like I was five and it was Christmas morning, and I brought back my brush. I brushed her hair over and over, her head tilting this way and that while my fingers ran through her brunette mane. The tiny moans she gave when my fingers would brush her neck or ear, even these didn’t bother me. This was mine. I could play with her hair if I wanted, for as long as I wanted. She would never complain, and no one could stop me.

I have never had so much fun with hair.

It took an hour or so, and at last it was getting very late, and I was tired, though I still sort of wanted to play with her hair. Instead I got up, got pillows and blankets out, while she waited, not moving, and then I asked her to stand up out of the way, and stretch her legs while I made up the sofa bed. I knew I could have had her do it, but my toy was still new, and I wanted to show her I appreciated her. When I was done, I told her to go to bed, and dream sweet dreams.

It was another two hours before I could get to sleep, lying there as I was in my room, knowing that my very own girl was out there sleeping.

* * *

In the morning, though both of us had slept only a little, a told her to go to work as she normally would, but to make certain that from now on she always wear silk or satin panties and camisoles under her clothes. When she came home from work…my home, not hers…she would strip to her underwear, and place the collar around her neck. That was to be her attire always in my home.

She nodded, smiling…almost beaming with joy, and she went off to work, while I sat there, still stunned, but it had begun to sink in. I had given her my first order, and she had nodded her compliance with actual eagerness! I called in sick to my job that day, while I began to plan what I would do with my own little girl.

The first days and nights were pretty routine, as I taught her what I wanted for dinner, etc…however, I loved cooking, and sharing in general, so we would both be in the kitchen, giggling and cooking. Of course, sometimes I would begin to get seriously wet when I would suddenly realize that I was wearing clothes, and Jennifer was wearing only silk underwear. Sometimes…like that first night…it was even really skimpy, exposing her tummy and her navel, with very high-riding french cut panties that came way up on her hip, and not-quite-thong backsides.

Also, she was wearing a collar.

After two days, I sought out one of those adult stores, and I bought her a studded leather black collar, which she put on with enormous pride. While I was in that store, though, I noticed a lot of other things for slaves, things I’d only fantasized about. I couldn’t bring şirinevler escort myself to get any at first, but the thoughts kept nagging at me. By that first weekend, when she was giving me regular back and foot massages, and cooking with me, and doing laundry and dishes with me, and always wearing her collar and her lingerie, I got up the nerve to go back to that adult shop.

I was truly like a kid in a candy store. It took me only moments to get over my embarrassment and fear of the men in there who were trying desperately not to stare at me. I stood there in the “B&D/S&M” section for thirty minutes trying to decide what to get, and in the end I just took out my plastic and got one of literally everything they had, and two of a lot of things. I got masks, and harnesses, and whips and two each of four different kinds of nipple clamps, and a riding crop, and a chastity belt, and every kind of leather attire they had (some for me, if I wanted, and some for her). It was when I was picking up the leather-thong butt-strap with the pink-colored plug in it that something started fighting me, between my brain and my sex.

There was this butt plug, staring up at me from it’s sealed plastic, a broad belt and a thick leather buckled star on it…and it wasn’t a huge plug, but it was pretty thick. My first thought was, ‘oh, I’ll have to buy another one, a smaller one to start her off’, and then I realized what I was doing. Up until now, it had all been dishes, cooking and massages. Did I really intend to make this into more than that? But then I looked at the other items, the nipple clamps, the harnesses, the ball gags, and I new that I did want something more. Maybe not to do whatever it was that it would mean to be ‘gay’ with her, but she was my own. I could make her do anything I wanted. I didn’t have to touch her if I didn’t want to, but I could do all of this stuff and it would be fine.

I did get another plug (four actually, ranging from small to two and a half inches thick…I didn’t know if that would ever fit, but she was mine and I could try it if I wanted), and a bunch of vibrators and dildoes too. Even one two headed one, repeating to myself that that would be for both her holes. I bought several dildo harnesses as well, just throwing them in, hiding them from myself, as it were.

With over one thousand dollars of items and a very astounded and elated cashier behind me (as well as a group of now unabashedly gawking men) I headed home with my treasure trove.

It was the weekend, so it was hard to find a carpenter, but I did. When he got there, and I told him where I wanted the very thick “eye”-bolts placed in my ceiling, my walls and my floor (all in my bedroom), he did look at me very oddly, but I just smiled and said I also tip very well.

Jennifer came home while he was still there, and I caught her at the door, telling her to go out again for another three hours. Without questioning me, she simply turned around and left.

When she did come back, the carpenter was gone, and she went through her normal routine, stripping her clothes off to her underwear, hanging them in the closet and placing her collar on. She must have noticed the large eye-bolts sticking out of the ceiling and floor and wall, but she said nothing, going to the couch where she would normally give me my after-work back rub and foot massage, and waiting patiently at the base of the couch.

I came out, wearing the bathrobe that I often do when she gives me my massage, but this time I didn’t lie down on the couch for her to straddle me. I slipped my bathrobe off, and watched her own jaw open wide as she looked at me. I had leather panties on, studded just along the seams, and a black leather push-up bra that left my nipples exposed. I had never shown her any part of my body before, except my bare back and legs, and here my nipples were, large, erect and pink, pouting out above the rim of the open black leather.

“I have some things I need for you to do,” I whispered huskily.

She just sat there, gaping at me, but she nodded, her soft hair falling around her shoulders, her nipples hardening so quickly against the satin of her camisole that I was almost surprised, watching them.

I took her hand and led her into the bathroom, placing her in the tub, standing up. I initially intended to her have take her own lingerie off, but I found myself reaching up to her shoulder straps and pulling her camisole up over her head. There, for the first time, I saw her breasts. They were nearly the most beautiful and most perfect creations I had ever seen. They were not overlarge, but very full and rounded, with small, dark-pink nipples that were not quite brown, but not so pink as my own, and they were very hard, her aureole’s all pointed with the goose-bumps of excitement. I swallowed hard, trying to be clinical about what I was doing, as my fingers slipped underneath the band of her panties, my fingers touching the soft skin of her hips and thighs as I pushed down her panties to her ankles, looking at the delicate young feet as they lifted up out of the clothing. I had tried to avert my eyes from taksim escort her sex parts, but I knew that only a foot above my head level, her sex must be there, and despite what I would have thought, I could smell her excitement. It was a rich, musky smell, hungry, like smoky heather in an open field.

Again, I swallowed very hard, bringing myself over to the counter, then I handed her the razor, the shaving cream and the bath oil. Still, without looking, I pointed to the area between her legs, and I said “Shave. Everything, on both sides.”

Her eyes were wide open, like an astounded rabbit caught in headlights, but she lay straight down, spreading her legs, and then I couldn’t help myself as I watched her apply the shaving cream to her light-brown hair, covering her pelvic area and between her buttocks. Each stroke left another region bare, and I did have to turn my eyes away because I was beginning to breath very hard, my own pussy becoming wet.

At last, she said she was done, and she had applied the oil. Eyes, still focused only on her face, I led her to the bedroom wall. I got many of my items out, and I laid them on the bed one by one. First, I placed the ball gag in her mouth, my eyes watching so deeply into hers as she accepted it willingly, light water beginning to fill up in the base of her eyelids. As I put the blindfold on, I saw a little tear of joy slip out from underneath it and ride down her right cheek.

I placed the fur-lined steel cuffs on her wrists, locked them into place, then got a chair out to hook the chain to the ceiling post so that her feet barley touched the floor, her toe-tops just brushing the carpet. Then I selected two sets of nipple clamps, and for the first time, I touched her breasts. Her nipples were so hard and pouty that I really didn’t have to, but I cupped her left breast in my hand as I tightened the clamp to the nipple until I felt her wince from the pain, then I tightened it a little farther. I did the same for her other breast. Then I placed the second set of clamps above the first, so that she squirmed despite her restraint. I pinched her nipples between my forefinger and thumb, watching them whiten from the pressure of the clamps. I wondered what that felt like, and how much it ached. I stood back a few moments, watching her accelerated breathing, watching her breasts rise and fall tightly, her back arched against the pain/pleasure.

Then, knowing she was blindfolded, I hazarded a look. Her legs were slightly spread, and there was her beautiful center spot…her mons pouting out from between her legs, swollen now with the blood of her excitement, her gentle little lips peeking out from the full folds of her skin, and I saw the tiniest peak of her clitoris glistening from underneath its little hood.

My own pussy was now soaking wet against the leather, my breathing fast and furious as I turned her around to face the wall and picked up the cat-o-nine-tails. And then I just started whipping her.

I was sort of hesitant at first, watching the ripple of her shock as each light blow landed on her bottom and back, but I was getting so hot, so amazingly hot that each time my whip came down it was harder, until at last I started seeing the red tracks it was leaving each time it make a loud “smack” against her soft flesh. She writhed, her muscles bunching underneath my strokes, but I didn’t want to stop. I kept on, doing it harder and harder, her gentle cheeks now striped with little red welts rising against the sweet tan of her skin, sweat beginning to pour down her back and trail into the crack of her buttocks. I couldn’t stop, my own left hand sinking down past my leather panties into my crotch, my fingers finding my own clit right away, and I kept whipping her for all I was worth, hearing her muffled cries from under the gag, seeing the tears stream out from the edges of the salt-water soaked blindfold.

I stopped, panting, very near orgasm, and I looked at what was all mine. Her back and butt and legs were criss-crossed with a latticework of welts from my whip, her thighs soaking wet from the stream of sex fluids pouring from her pussy, her body writhing against the chains that held her. When she sensed that my whipping had stopped for a moment, I saw her try to relax, but the pain from the nipple clamps and the stinging of her welts kept her writhing, her body still reveling in the echoes of what I’d just given her.

Hungrily I turned her around, intent on doing her front side as well, but as I turned her around, my mouth brushed her hair, then without thinking I found my lips on her throat. Her neck arched immediately, her muffled cry turning instantly to a moan as she leaned her head back for me to have all her throat to savor. I did, still not thinking, take my hand out of my own pussy and bring it up to her breasts, pulling hard at the clamps, then massaging her nipples roughly. My mouth found her right nipple hungrily, as a starving baby must feel, and I sucked on it deeply, the taste of the steel clamps and her hardened satin nub causing the burning to grow so hot in my crotch that I literally fell at her feet, kneeling before this creature that was mine. I lifted up one foot, and ravenously placed the toes in my mouth, pulling them out, then licking all around the soft pads of her feet, her instep, then continuing rapidly up her calf to her inner thigh, biting her so hard I left marks. I wanted to eat her whole.

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