Each week she would go to the supermarket and get her groceries and a carton of her favourite cigarettes. The smoking was a bad habit she’d brought with her from Europe when she’d moved after her divorce to be nearer her daughter.
One particular young man would always offer to carry out her bags for her and as he loaded them in her car she’d catch him watching her light her cigarette. She’d smile and he’d quickly look away.
“In Europe” she said one day in her thick accent, “a gentleman would be quick to offer a light.”
The next week she smiled as he quickly loaded her groceries and then as she withdrew a cigarette from her pack and placed it in her rich full lips he produced a lighter.
“Such a good boy” she said, as she placed her hand on his, steadying herself and feeling him tremble. He blushed, and she gazed down, the effect obvious in the front of his tight black pants.
The next week he did the same and she kept her hand on his longer. She knew it excited him but was almost certain he didn’t know why.
She wrote the word Domme on a piece of paper and gave it to him.
“Are you familiar with this term?”
He told her he wasn’t.
“Look it up, that is like your homework.”
The following week she rang the supermarket and told them she wasn’t feeling well.
“I can tell you my needs and maybe the young man that helps me every week might deliver it for me when he finishes. Tell him there will be a good tip.”
In preparation for his visit she fished through her suitcases. She was excited, it’d been a while for her. By the time he arrived she was ready.
A timid knock on the door announced his arrival. Her makeup was perfect, her hair as she wore it in her Domme days.
She opened the door, he stood there. She could tell he’d taken care to dress properly.
“Thank you darling, you’re such a good boy.”
“Are you feeling better Ma’am?”
She told him she was, the robe wrapped tight around her body as she asked him inside. He followed her to the kitchen, placing the groceries on the table.
Removing the carton of cigarettes she took a packet and moved towards her bedroom.
“Come boy” she commanded.
Sitting on the end of the bed she opened the packet, placing a cigarette between her lips. His lighter was The instantly, his hand shaking, causing her to steady it once more.
Once alight she took a deep draw, then shrugged her robe off, revealing her outfit to him.
“Did you do your homework?”
“Yes Mistress” his instant reply.
Feeling long lost flooded over her as she heard these words, and she reached out, cupping his eager face.
“Your journey begins my boy.”
#mature #domme #stepmother #submissive
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Each week she would go to the supermarket and get her groceries and a carton of her favourite cigarettes. The smoking was a bad habit she’d brought with her from Europe when she’d moved after her divorce to be nearer her daughter.
One particular young man would always offer to carry out her bags for her and as he loaded them in her car she’d catch him watching her light her cigarette. She’d smile and he’d quickly look away.
“In Europe” she said one day in her thick accent, “a gentleman would be quick to offer a light.”
The next week she smiled as he quickly loaded her groceries and then as she withdrew a cigarette from her pack and placed it in her rich full lips he produced a lighter.
“Such a good boy” she said, as she placed her hand on his, steadying herself and feeling him tremble. He blushed, and she gazed down, the effect obvious in the front of his tight black pants.
The next week he did the same and she kept her hand on his longer. She knew it excited him but was almost certain he didn’t know why.
She wrote the word Domme on a piece of paper and gave it to him.
“Are you familiar with this term?”
He told her he wasn’t.
“Look it up, that is like your homework.”
The following week she rang the supermarket and told them she wasn’t feeling well.
“I can tell you my needs and maybe the young man that helps me every week might deliver it for me when he finishes. Tell him there will be a good tip.”
In preparation for his visit she fished through her suitcases. She was excited, it’d been a while for her. By the time he arrived she was ready.
A timid knock on the door announced his arrival. Her makeup was perfect, her hair as she wore it in her Domme days.
She opened the door, he stood there. She could tell he’d taken care to dress properly.
“Thank you darling, you’re such a good boy.”
“Are you feeling better Ma’am?”
She told him she was, the robe wrapped tight around her body as she asked him inside. He followed her to the kitchen, placing the groceries on the table.
Removing the carton of cigarettes she took a packet and moved towards her bedroom.
“Come boy” she commanded.
Sitting on the end of the bed she opened the packet, placing a cigarette between her lips. His lighter was The instantly, his hand shaking, causing her to steady it once more.
Once alight she took a deep draw, then shrugged her robe off, revealing her outfit to him.
“Did you do your homework?”
“Yes Mistress” his instant reply.
Feeling long lost flooded over her as she heard these words, and she reached out, cupping his eager face.
“Your journey begins my boy.”
#mature #domme #stepmother #submissive