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From: Mule <mule@tpe.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Story :The bar Scene (Part I) (Femdom)
Date: Fri, 23 Feb 2001 18:10:06 -0500
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The Bar Scene

She wasn't a 20-year-old statuesque blonde corseted in fine
leather. In fact, she was rather middle-aged and plain. She was
40-ish, but dressed well. Her height may have topped 5 foot 4 if
she were wearing fetish heels, which she wasn't. Her figure,
well, let's just call it ample. Her face wasn't stern; as a
matter of fact, it was rather kindly. Her dark, kinky hair (the
only thing that seemed kinky about her from her appearance) hung
loose, but stylishly towards her shoulders.

I looked at her across the bar where she was sharing drinks and
good times with her friends. To all outwards appearances, she was
merely a middle-aged businesswoman to judge from the smart, but
conservative clothing she wore.

So why was it I thought, "domme" the moment I saw her? What was
it I could see that other men couldn't? I grabbed my scotch and
water, strode over to her table, smiled at her and said, "Hi, I'm
Nate. I get the feeling that you are an interesting person. I'd
like to get to know you better." I was never one to play games,
and I've found that the direct approach has been much more
successful than any pick up line I've ever heard.

"Well Nate, I'm Gwen. Come sit!" The way she said it wasn't so
much an invitation but an order. "These are my friends Arlene and
Glenda."

I nodded and smiled at the women.

"So what makes you think I am an interesting woman?" I noticed
that while I used the word "person;" she used the word "woman."

"I don't know." I answered. "There's just something about the way
you carry yourself - a certain air of confidence perhaps."

She smiled back at me. "You don't know the half of it" she
replied. "OK, Mr. Nate," she said with just the slightest hint of
sarcasm on "Mr." "Just what do you do with a confident woman?"

"Well, I'd cherish her for one thing," I responded.

"Cherished?" She raised an eyebrow.

 From the corner of my eye, I noticed how Arlene and Glenda were
leaning forward, being drawn into this tableau.

"Yes, cherished!" I said more boldly. I am not a wimpish
submissive. "Cherished, to be put on a pedestal, to be pampered,
to be worshiped and adored." I amazed even myself with the speed
we cut through the normal verbal dueling that normally
accompanies a first meeting of this sort. Gwen and I wasted no
time sniffing each other out. Within minutes of meeting this
woman, I was confessing my submission and she was establishing
her dominance.

She laughed and tossed her head back shaking her hair. The action
seemed like a signal in some primitive mating ritual. "Are you
sure you're man enough?" she countered.

"I'll leave that for you to judge. If you are what I think you
are, you'll accept my offer."

She drew herself up in mock indignation, "Oh, a challenge! Is
this to be a contest of wills?"

"No, I prefer to think of it as a dance of the wills."

"Let me think about this," she mused. After a moment's
hesitation, she added, "Just what is it you think I am?"

Now it was my turn to hesitate. I temporized, "I think you know
what I mean." It was the first retreat either of us had made
since starting the conversation.

"Oh, I am certain I know what you mean" she said, pressing on
with her attack, "I just want to hear you say it."

"I think you are a dominant woman," I muttered.

"Louder, boy!" she commanded, "I want my girlfriends to hear
you."

"I think you are a dominant woman," I proclaimed, much more
boldly this time.

Arlene and Glenda giggled at my announcement and embarked in a
whispering session between them. Finally, Arlene stood up, and
said, "Conference time, girls" and nodded towards the ladies'
room.

Gwen ordered me, "Sit, boy. Stay!" as she went off to join her
girlfriends.

I sat for what seemed an indeterminable amount of time, but which
was in reality under 10 minutes when the three of them returned.

Gwen broke the uneasy silence, "So you want to serve women?"

I merely nodded.

She went on, "Then let's blow this place off. I think we'd all be
a little more comfortable somewhere else."

She motioned to the waitress, and I paid their bill.

"Come with me," Gwen beckoned, "We'll drive. You can pick up your
car later."

Arlene and Gwen guided me to the back seat of what I presumed was
Glenda's car. I was ushered into the seat to sit between the two
women. Glenda, who was rummaging for something in the trunk
finally got in behind the wheel. She threw a pair of panties over
her shoulder and into my lap.

"Put these on," ordered Arlene.

I looked at her confused. I was wondering how I was going to get
them on over (or under) my clothes and in the cramped confines of
Glenda's back seat.

"Over your head, boy."

The light went on! And so did Glenda's panties. They made an
effective blindfold. They also had a very strong odor.

Glenda could hear me snort at the smell and explained, "Those are
my gym panties. I wore them all day yesterday, and again this
morning during my workout. They've been sitting in my gym bag
along with my sneakers and socks all day."

I had no doubt. Yet there was a certain excitement of being so
close to something so intimate to a woman's body that excited me.
My penis stiffened in appreciation.

I don't know if the women noticed it or not. But, suddenly Gwen
ordered, "Take it out so we can see it."

It never even occurred to me to doubt which "it" she was talking
about. I reached down and unzipped my pants. It was difficult
getting my erected penis through the fly while sitting down, but
I did manage it.

"Glenda, keep your eyes on the road," I heard Gwen admonish. The
three women cracked up at that remark. They seemed to be
especially festive, and I couldn't tell if it was due to the
alcohol or the fact that they had a male plaything at their
command for the rest of the evening.

We drove for about 15 minutes with Gwen and Arlene giving my
penis an occasional brush to keep it steely-hard and pointing to
the ceiling. Every now and then as we'd pass a streetlight, I
could hear one of them giggle as apparently my organ came into
view. By the end of the drive, I could feel the slipperiness on
my penis. They did a great job of teasing me without giving me
any more satisfaction than my anticipation. These girls seemed to
have some experience with men's apparatus.

After a sharp turn, apparently into a driveway, we finally came
to a stop and I was led out of the car. One of the girls took my
cock and walked me for about 100 feet and up a couple of steps. I
could tell that there was a floodlight on, but where I was, and
who else could see me was unknown to me. A dog barked nearby and
I could tell that the women had a sense of urgency to get me in.

Nonetheless, we stood on a porch for what seemed like several
minutes while one of them fumbled for her keys. The clanking of
the keys and the many items on the chain were loud in my ears -
noises get amplified and time gets distorted when you can't see
anything. I was sure all this activity would draw attention to
our group.

I could feel the draft of the door being pushed open and I was
led into darkness. My panty blindfold was removed just as a light
came on, and I found myself standing in a kitchen. I blinked my
eyes at the sudden flash of light.

"You'll have to get used to this place," Gwen giggled. "You'll be
spending a lot of time here tonight."

Meanwhile Glenda was leading the way, turning on lights, and
putting on music. Apparently this was her house. "Bring him in
here," she finally said from a back bedroom.

When I got there, she was standing in a closet looking through
clothes. She took out an outfit or two, held them up, frowned and
put them back.

"Take your clothes off, Nate." Gwen ordered. "You're going to
become Natalie for the evening. You'll be our maid and serve us."

Meanwhile Glenda apparently found the outfit she was looking for.
It was a simple white blouse with just a trace of trim down the
front, and a plain black skirt.

By this time I had finished undressing and stood naked before the
women.

"Ewwwe," Arlene exclaimed, "Look at all that hair. We have to do
something about that."

The next thing I know is that I am standing in a tub. With three
women lathering me up in cold water with some sort of scented
soap, and attacking me with razors. I closed my eyes as I could
feel six hands on various parts of my body.

One of them grabbed my penis. I wondered how she could hold onto
it as slippery as it was with the soap and precome. I felt the
razor being maneuvered around my most sensitive areas. The cold
water retracted my balls, and I guess that made it easier for the
women to shave them.

In a matter of minutes I was shivering and smooth from my chin
down. I daresay that these women knew what they were doing; my
body felt silky, and didn't have a single nick on it.

"Wash off!" Arlene barked.

I never felt so naked in the shower before. Even my "protective"
layer of hair was missing. I could feel my skin more than I had
ever before. It felt eerie to have my hands slide over my body
and meet no resistance at all. I wondered if this is the way
women experience their bodies when they showered. It felt
particularly funny when I got to my genitals and had the water
just slide off.

I looked down at my hairless crotch; it looked so exposed and
vulnerable. Without the contrast of the dark pubic hair, my penis
and testicles seemed smaller. It was like taking a step back to
boyhood, and becoming less than a full man.

"Come on, slowpoke," one of my mistresses reminded me. "We don't
have all night. We have things to do. Places to go. People to
see."

I giggled, hoping that those words were just an idle threat.

---
http://www.tpe.com/~mule
mule@tpe.com

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