Cathy Dupree had been single for some time, and the sexual rush she got that day, was more than welcome. The night before, she’d lain atop her bed, facing the mirror and watched herself masturbate with the large vibrator which had so long been her best friend, her orgasm magnificent as her imagination took her through a fantasy which saw her with the upper hand over masculinity, leading to a willingly subservient male servicing her orally. Duly sated, then sleeping soundly, she awoke to find herself still intensely aroused, and strutted naked about the house while she decided on what to wear from the new outfits she’d bought recently.

Middle aged and alone, following two unsuccessful marriages, she’d spent several years in a state of withdrawal, believing she was condemned to a life as a forgotten spinster, despite having a desirably shapely body and an attractive face which drew the attention of many a male when out on her daily routines. She knew not why, but one of those daily routines had her make a spontaneous visit to a large and dusty bookshop off the main street that day, and on to a secluded corner where those few books of an adult nature were secreted. It was as though she’d been drawn there by some primeval instinct. She took an instant liking to him, a male she caught, feverishly replacing a lurid publication by a 50’s artist she was well aware of, it’s graphic cover revealing all she needed to know about his sexual preferences, having her like him all the more without they having spoken a word.

He picked something else out, something bland and of no interest to him, feigning a studied nonchalance and hoping she hadn’t - and yet hoping she had - seen what he’d been viewing, and what had stirred his loins. What he saw of her through the corner of his eye, was very attractive to him indeed, mature, shapely, and something about her gave her an air of authority ... not helping quell the arousal the previous book had awarded him. What happened next, had that arousal bulge his underwear. Cathy didn’t know where she found the audacity within her, to take up the challenge of confronting a complete stranger, but that his interest in that book was too ripe an opportunity for her to pass over. She moved closer to him, and slipped out that very book with a smile, her scent subtle, yet somehow overpowering, a fragrance which would remain etched upon his memory.

Her smile broadened as her eyes took in the title and one of the women depicted on its cover, her buxom body shape so pleasingly similar to hers ‘The Dominant Wives and Other Stories.’ She turned her head and looked right at him, pleased to see that he hadn’t just walked away, though in minor shock, she could feel he was as interested in her as she was in him, it was almost as though he wanted to be taken control of.

“Are you sure you don’t want this one? ... I find the artist most appealing.” Clay Sheridan, long divorced from a wife who’d spurned him for another male, now found sexual pleasure through masturbation only, and had already found many desirable depictions within that book that he’d wantonly shoot his mess over. He’d pondered it nervously, looking for the courage to take it to the assistant and pay for it, but now he was faced with a situation far more worthy of his masturbation. It was obvious she knew he was submissive, and her gentle sneer as she teased him with book in hand, already had him lusting for her authority. He tried vainly, to mask his interest in the book, though he was already drawn to her, magnetically.

“Oh ... I ... I’m not sure.” His denial only made her need more ardent, though she played along with it, slipping the book back and saving his blushes, but her smile having him know she’d enjoyed the tease ... and might want more. Clays cock pulsed as she feigned no further interest in him, moving away to view other books, which she now had no interest in whatsoever, prompting further action from him.

“ ... but I do agree, his artwork is...” He swallowed hard, not quite believing he was having this conversation with a woman, the thrill of it interrupting his sentence.

“ ... is, very appealing.” Cathy smirked at his dull attempt at keeping her interested, his tone almost containing a pleading element to it, in a desperation to maintain some link between them ... she wanted him more and more, and knew it was mutual. Her cunt tingled incessantly, having her find a boldness which shocked even her. She grinned softly, knowing the briefest of liaisons had uncovered something they both wished to pursue, and turned her face to him to show her intent.

“Well perhaps you’d like to discuss it further, over a coffee somewhere perhaps.?”

Though they’d both been very guarded over their innermost mutual pleasures during conversation, they’d come close to admitting what they both truly desired from each other ... enough to ensure that a further liaison was inevitable, and the possibility of an intimate relationship beyond that. She had found herself already revealing a level of honesty about her penchant for authority she’d never broached with either of her prior husbands, they being vanilla in nature, but he so reciprocal in interest from the opposite level. It was patently apparent through talking, he was submissive to the authority of femininity, and that she would wield the upper hand in any relationship. Dominant.

They came so close as to disclose addresses and exchange phone numbers. Both had masturbated lustily on parting to return home; he kneeling before his bed and sending his semen high on imagining her sat upon it, cross-legged and demanding tribute, she, laying with legs wide and pointing high as she came, imagining his tongue deep in her anus in worship. Both yearned for the excitement of an erotic confirmation, making that inevitably a foregone conclusion.

The following day had not passed much further than noon, as Cathy awaited the buzz of her phone, her will almost demanding it. Clay duly obliged, seemingly under her control already, almost begging over the phone to visit her, on the premise of some mediocre reason - though his tone could not hide his true desire, sending her cunt into a tingle on virtually demanding he attend promptly at a certain time.

Clay parked his car in the suburban street some distance from her address, and approached the driveway on foot, admiring the tranquil residences which faced the street through the privacy of their leafy front gardens. He was already beginning to erect on stepping up to the equally secluded frontage of her detached house, seeing that her two marriages had not been completely unsuccessful, the disposal of two husband’s having left her with a comfortable and not unsubstantial property, befitting of the independent woman Cathy Dupree now was.

Cathy’s arousal matched his initial excitement, on seeing him stride timidly toward her door. She dressed in just a thin shawl over her underwear, her shapely calves taut in black stockings set on high heels, was determined to end any pretentious dithering from the onset, her impatience to assume complete control of a male for the first time, having her slot moistening already in anticipation of it.

Clay felt feverish as he rang the bell, Cathy, already behind it, waited a few moments before responding, enjoying even that simple element of being in control of the situation. She applied the sternest look she could muster, before opening the door, then looked him straight in the eye as she opened it. Astounded by her look, all he could manage was her name.

“Cathy...” She placed an upright index finger to her lips, hushing him, taking control.

“In you come.” Clay’s cock pulsed at the lush curves of her body wrapped in the shawl, those heels taking her up to the same height as he ... and that scent. The product she’d applied was that same subtle fragrance, but today it was enhanced by her natural scents of femininity, wafting from beneath the loose shawl, pulled tight to emphasise her womanly shape. She simply smirked at him with a practiced tinge of contempt as she closed the door behind him, then led him through to her lounge. She stood hand on hip, and simply stated at him.

“Well?” It was patently obvious what they both desired, and Clay just panted, mystified by her dominance, unable to answer her ... just wanting to worship her. The atmosphere in the room intensified to one of a hotly erotic haze that neither of them could ignore, nor wanted to, the mood of both reaching a heady pinnacle immediately as Cathy took the initiative, standing with legs slightly apart, and pointing him to the floor between her tall heels.

“Get down on your knees before me ... right now.”

His lame excuse for visiting her, now consigned to absolute insignificance, as the genuine reason for his visit had him sink obediently to his knees before her, his anus tingling wildly on committing himself to what he’d always dreamed of, and doing so with little or no hesitation. He’d hoped she’d seen the signs that he was submissive to women, and long seen it she had - just the feeling of going down to confirm it, had him overcome with both relief, and a lusty eroticism. Cathy’s cunt swelled as she fought to keep her composure, the sigh in her voice, only emphasising to him, her mutual lust at the situation.

“You’ll ... you’ll strip off ... I want you naked at my feet.” Neither could believe this was really happening; just a day or so ago their lives were set on the same mundane course, but both were excited by the same guarded and deeply erotic wants, which were now unfolding so automatically.

As though in some pert and vividly enjoyable dream, he responded with even less hesitation than his obedience to her command that he kneel, quickly peeling his clothes off, though awkwardly ... desperate to know the shame of being naked before her, at her behest. Cathy felt her nipples jut rigid against the fabric of her black lacy bra beneath the shawl that she too would shortly discard, as she watched him struggle in removing his outer clothing, then his underwear ... and there was his cock, poking stiff with the pleasure of realising his dreams at last, and mutually obliging hers, at being under the control of a dominant woman.

He kept his head bowed as he awaited her next command, which he’d willingly obey whatever the order, and gasped in amazement at the rigid status of his own cock. Not since being a teenager had it stood so high independently of any manual stimulation, expressing a rigidity normally reserved for when he’d manually stropped over images and articles depicting dominant women; that cock perking even harder at the blissful realisation that he was now naked before one such powerful woman, the tall heels and taut calves clad in black nylon having him yearn to worship her further.

Cathy obliged his wish, as though receiving his pathetic desire telepathically, though his position, and Cathy’s cunt tingling with this new and lusciously erotic power, made her next command a formality.

“Kiss my feet ... show me you know your place when in my presence...” A feeling of absolute triumph, topped with a pure sexual excitement such as she’d never experienced before, coursed through her as his head went down in utter obedience, and showing no hesitation whatsoever, had his lips and tongue worship the shoes she stood in. His cock pulsed and boned on tasting the leather, finding the pleasure in his submission exquisite. This was where he’d always dreamed of being, and as his tongue slipped around the contours of her heels, he wanted to come there and then, to confirm to her his pathetic adoration of her power over him.