I have been told I’m an enigma.

I look so sweet and innocent on the outside, but am hot and naughty underneath.

I have a sexy, dazzling smile, with adorable pouty lips and hypnotic green eyes

I have multiple sides I can show depending on my mood and who I am around.

1. To my grandmother, I am the sweetest granddaughter ever.

2. To my mother, I am a loyal daughter who will do anything to make sure she is happy.

3. To my siblings, I am the big sister who will support them at all times.

4. To my co-workers, I am a hard working team player.

5. To my friends, I am someone who will listen, someone who will be loyal and also someone who can party hard.

6. To the different men in my life, I was always a caring, supportive girlfriend who was an eager and submissive lover in the bedroom.

Yet, frustratingly, men are oblivious, and none were able to catch on to my many obvious hints that in the bedroom I wanted to be not a cute, sweet girlfriend, but a dirty, submissive fuck-toy.

I wanted to be used like a slut…not made love to, yet saying such things to someone, no matter how many hints I gave, was challenging and they never caught on and I could never come out and say it.

I had even begun chatting and role playing online where another sexual curiosity was triggered…being a submissive to another woman…preferably an older woman.

The more I chatted with other women, the more I role played, the more curious I got.

Then…over a few weeks…all my fantasies became a reality when I met an older couple.

I was working the Friday night shift at an upscale restaurant when I met the couple for the first time.

Like most things in life, you never know when a big moment is about to transpire.

It was a busy Friday and we were understaffed when I was given a table in a section that usually wasn’t mine. I definitely have some repeat customers who always sit in my area for a variety of reasons (I’m sweet, I’m polite, I make sure my customers are looked after and, of course, I dress to tease…not slutty, but sexy enough to showcase my great legs, my firm ass and my small breasts (that the right push-up bra can make deceivably a lot bigger).

This particular couple was incredibly friendly and very touchy with to each other, which I thought was sweet for a couple in their early forties. My parents still loved each other I assumed, but they never showed even a remote interest in each other as being in love in front of us kids.

The woman was pretty, not gorgeous, in a natural, I’m-forty-and-fine-with-it way. She had long brunette hair, voluptuous looking breasts (double my size) and was dressed very professionally, as if she was a lawyer or something (I would later learn she is a teacher). Also, unlike most women of society today, she was wearing nylons (which intrigued me, especially when I noticed just the glimpse of lace top stocking when she got up to go to the washroom).

The man was a little older, I would guess, with brown hair and goatee with the tinge of grey that I found made older men look distinguished and hot (he looked like a professor in my mind, but I would later learn that ironically he was a lawyer), And although I didn’t have any evidence to prove my theory, he just seemed like a guy that looked nice on the outside, but knew exactly how to treat a submissive woman like me.

We chatted ever-so-briefly that first Friday, but nothing substantial and nothing that would remotely hint at what lay ahead.

The following Friday they were again at the same booth, but the regular server of that area, Emily, was there and served them.

I didn’t think much about it, although I noticed she was again in nylons and I was curious to know if they were thigh highs again.

When they were leaving, the woman came up to me and said, taking my hand, “We were disappointed to not have you as our server.”

The way she stressed the word ‘server’ was odd, yet I smiled warmly, “That is usually not my section.” I then pointed to my usual area and added, “This is my home base.”

“That,” she said, still holding my hand, “is good to know.”

She then gave my hand just the softest of squeezes and headed back to her husband. I watched her walk away, finding her intriguing and sexy…the type of woman I would love to submit to given the chance.

She said something to him and he looked at me and…winked.

A chill went down my spine and directly to my pussy, my overactive imagination and my current sexual dry spell impacting me.

I was curious if they would be back again and if they would sit in my section.

The following Friday I ended up taking off to go to a concert, so I had to wait two weeks to get the answer to my question.

I saw them come in and get seated in my section.

I walked over to the table and she said, “We missed you last week.”

I smiled, “I went to a Blake Shelton concert.”

“You seem like a honey bee,” she smiled, quoting a Blake Shelton song.

I replied with a playful tone, “I’m told I’m all sugar and spice.”

“I bet you’re a lot more than that,” she smiled, her tone ominous.

I felt my face go red, even though the words were rather harmless.

I took their drink orders and got back to work.

All night she asked me chit chat questions and I learned her name was Jasmine, and his was Michael. To my surprise, she was a teacher and he a lawyer…the exact opposite of how I had originally labelled them.

As they were leaving, she came up to me and asked, “So I noticed you always wear nylons.”

I nodded, “Yes, I do.”

“Me too,” she nodded. “It’s been depressing to see how few women today do.”

“Agreed,” I nodded.

She leaned in, her hot breath on my ear, and whispered, “I expect you in thigh highs next week.”

I whimpered, as she walked away not allowing me to respond.

I, like most women, had contemplated being with a woman. I made out with a few at bars and even felt up a couple (and was felt up in return) and masturbated fantasizing about what tasting a pussy would be like, yet I had never actually been with one.

Yet, I felt as if she could see through my sweet innocent exterior and see the submissive me dying to be drawn out.

The whole next seven days I questioned my sexuality even more.

Men were exhausting, men were insensitive and men were oblivious.

Suddenly, women were intriguing, women were sensual and women were in touch with the needs of other women.

Would I go home with her if given the opportunity? What role did her usually silent husband play in this? Could it be a threesome? Would I want to be part of a threesome?

These questions and many more bounced in my head as I bought some new thigh highs and indeed wore them under my skirt. A skirt that was a little longer than my usual attire…to hide the lace top of the thigh highs.

I went to work on Friday giddy with a mixture of excitement and trepidation…truly not sure what I wanted.

They arrived at seven as usual and she asked, her tone implying disappointment, “What’s with the church outfit?”

What I was wearing I didn’t think was a church outfit, but I answered, wanting to please her, “I had to wear something that hid the stockings you instructed me to wear.”

“Let me see,” she ordered.

“Here?” I asked.

“Yes,” she nodded.

I looked around, thankful it wasn’t busy yet, and quickly lifted up my skirt to reveal that I had, indeed, obeyed her order.

“Good girl,” she nodded.

I quickly dropped my skirt back down.

“Why did you obey?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered, which was partially true, although my submissive nature was definitely part of the answer.

“Come back to us with our usual drinks my dear, and a real answer to my question,” she ordered, before turning away from me and towards her husband.

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, again showing my natural submissive nature.

I walked away feeling so many emotions, but the most powerful one was my desire to get her acceptance, to please her. Yet, I also had to focus on my job.

I got their drinks and returned to their table.

“And?” she asked, looking up at me with expectation.

“I’m submissive,” I admitted.

“And what does that mean to you?” she asked.

“I like to make people happy,” I explained,

“I know you do,” she smiled.

And that was it. I took their orders and then the place got busy and I ran around frantically like I usually do.

It wasn’t until I returned to their table to hand back their credit card that I was shocked to see a pair of panties on the table. She smiled and said, “This is your tip for tonight.”

I looked at her in shock.

“Take them,” she ordered.

My hand trembling, I obeyed, even as I felt my cheeks burn red.

“Feel free to use them tonight in whatever way you wish,” she smiled as she stood up.

I scrunched them tightly in my hand and scurried to the back room and put them in my purse.

When I returned again, they were gone. Disappointment coursed through me as I had hoped for another order.

I was cleaning up a couple of tables, half an hour later, when I heard her say, “Excuse me, my dear.”

I turned around and asked, “Yes, ma’am?”

“I was thinking it was rather unfair to give you such a gift and not get one in return,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I questioned, unsure what she meant.

“Give me your panties,” she ordered.

“Pardon?” I asked, even though I had heard her.

“Go somewhere private, take off your panties and bring them to me,” she ordered.

“Um, I,” I began, this being rather unorthodox.

“Now!” she ordered firmly.

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, feeling I must obey, even as I dampened my panties with excitement.

I went to my other hostess and said, “Can you watch my tables for a couple of minutes? I really need to go the washroom.”

“Sure,” she nodded.

I quickly went to the washroom, went directly to a stall and tugged down my panties.

I couldn’t believe I was obeying her, nor could I believe just how wet obeying her was making me. I wanted to get myself off, but refused the temptation knowing she was waiting and I was working.

I stood up, concealed my wet panties as best as I could and left the stall just as she walked in.

She smiled, looking at me, “Hi, my pet.”

“H-h-hi,” I stammered, a chill going up my spine at being called her pet.

She opened her hand and I handed her my panties.

“Mmmmmm, they are very wet,” she noticed.

My face flushed an even darker shade of red.

“My panties were wet too, my pet,” she said, “I fingered myself to orgasm at the table just for you.”

I was speechless, both flattered and uncomfortable at the same time.

“You like being told what to do, don’t you, my pet?” she asked.

“Yes,” I nodded, after a moment.

“And you like obeying, don’t you, my pet?” she continued.

“Yes,” I again agreed, completely overwhelmed by this powerful woman and her ability to see the real me, something no man had ever been able to do.

“And your pussy is wet from obedience, isn’t it, my pet?” she asked, even though she obviously knew the answer.

“Yes, ma’am,” I admitted, adding the term of respect as well.

“What time do you get off tomorrow?” she asked.

“Eleven,” I answered.

“Good to know,” she replied, then turned and walked out…leaving me confused and horny.

I finished my shift, distracted for many reasons: My cunt was on fire, my head was contemplating so many scenarios, and I felt strangely naked without underwear on.

That night, as soon as I got home, I got out of all my clothes except for my thigh highs, somehow thinking she would want me to leave them on, and masturbated while sniffing her panties. Imagining her making me be her pet got me off in a couple of minutes as I put her panties on my head, her wet crotch on my face as I sucked her faint juices from the fabric while inhaling her exotic scent.

As I fell asleep, I wondered if she was planning to return tomorrow.

Saturday night I wore a different pair and colour of thigh high stockings, a shorter skirt that would, if I bent over too much, reveal my sexy nylon choice, in hopes they would show up.

All night, I kept checking the door in eager anticipation that they would show up.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. I was walking to my car when I was startled by a horn from a parked car.

I froze.

I looked at the car and saw both of them.

I walked over to the driver’s side where she was, leaned down and smiled, “Hi, Jasmine,” before I noticed that her husband had his dick out and she was stroking it slowly.

“Hi, my pet,” she said, “did you enjoy my panties?”

I felt my face flush red as it always seemed to do when she asked me questions, “Yes,” I admitted.

“What did you do with them?” she asked.

“It’s rather embarrassing,” I replied, unable to not watch her stroke his big cock.

“Answer my questions when I ask them,” she ordered, her tone implying clear annoyance.

“I put them on my head while I masturbated,” I admitted.

“Did you suck my cunt cum from them?” she bluntly asked.

“Yes,” I whispered, looking down ashamed.

She pulled out her phone, typed something down and ordered, as she handed it to me, “Type in your cell number for me.”

I took the phone, saw she had listed me as ‘Pet Lily’ and typed my digits in for her.

I handed her the phone back and she said, “I expect you to respond immediately to any text I send you, is that clear, my pet?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded.

“Do you want to taste my cunt?” she questioned.

“Yes, ma’am” I admitted.

“Walk around to the other side of the car,” she ordered.

I did, completely intoxicated with her powerful persona and expectations.

Her husband, whose name I couldn’t remember, rolled down the window.

I bent down by his window and she said, “I just rode his cock and came all over it. If you want to taste my cunt, just lean down and clean my juices off my husband’s cock.”

Although I was shocked, I was completely captivated by her words and his cock and the slight sample I got from her panties last night.

So I leaned forward, oblivious to the reality that anyone could see me in such a compromising position, and took his cock in my mouth.

“Get all my pussy juice,” she ordered, as she put her hand on the back of my head and guided me to deep throat her husband’s cock.

My cunt was burning and her taste was even stronger off his dick.

It lasted only about thirty seconds before she said, “That’s all for tonight, my pet.”

I reluctantly moved back up and she smiled, “Have a good night, my pet.”

“You too, ma’am,” and I watched as she drove away.

As I headed to my car, I wondered what exactly I was getting myself into.

That night, I used my shower head to get myself off as I imagined so many different scenarios:

Me between her legs.

Me sucking his cock and swallowing his load.

Me sucking his cock and taking a facial.

Him fucking me while I ate her pussy.

Me being their full service sex-toy.

My orgasm came hard and fast as I pondered the many exciting possibilities…my trepidation gone as I focused on the sexual thrill that obedience to her brought.

Every day I hoped she would show up, but every day she didn’t.

On Friday, I was incredibly disappointed when they didn’t show up.

Eventually, I assumed the charade of teasing was over when she showed up by herself the following Friday near the end of my shift.

I asked, “Where’s your husband?”

“At a bachelor’s party,” she smiled.

“So you’re all alone?” I asked, flirting excessively as I tried to subtly offer myself as company.

“I hope not,” she nodded. “Are you off at eleven?”

“I am,” I nodded, my pussy getting damp with possibility.

“Any plans?” she asked.

“I think some may be developing at this very moment,” I replied.

“You understand I don’t want a lover,” she explained.

“W-w-what do you want?” I asked.

“An obedient pet,” she replied.

“Oh,” I nodded, another gush of wetness at her forwardness.

“Do you want to be my pet?” she asked.

“Yes,” I nodded shyly.

She looked around the mostly empty restaurant, took her phone out of her purse and dropped it under the table.

“Could you please get that for me?” she requested.

“I, um, I,” I struggled to agree, considering I was at work.

“Now, Lily,” she ordered, her playful voice gone.

I quickly looked around, made sure no one was watching, thankful it was near the end of my shift and the restaurant was relatively empty, wordlessly dropped to my knees, crawled under the table and although the lighting was dim, her legs were spread open and her completely shaved pussy was staring at me.

“One lick,” she ordered, “that’s all you get.”

I had no hesitation for three reasons:

1. I desperately wanted to obey her.

2. I desperately wanted to taste her.

3. I didn’t want to get caught in a compromising situation that could get me fired.

I quickly crawled between her legs, gave her one long lick from bottom to top lick and crawled back out, even though I wished immediately I could have had more. Her taste was exotic and enticing and I was instantly addicted.

Standing back up, I realized I hadn’t grabbed her phone.

She smiled, “Did you enjoy the sample?”

“Yes,” I nodded, feeling my face burn red with shame and excitement.

“Would you like another taste?” she asked.

I nodded, knowing that if she asked me to go back under the table I would, her delicious taste just lingering on my lips and worth getting fired over.

“Meet me in my car when you are off work,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, somehow wanting to show my submissive nature even more, in case it wasn’t already obvious.

“Good girl,” she smiled, as I turned and walked away to deal with a couple other customers who thankfully hadn’t seen what I had just done.

The next half an hour ticked by at a snail’s pace, but once off work, I went outside and saw her car idling just down the street. Part of me was like ‘What are you doing? She could be a serial killer,’ yet a bigger part of me was in control and eager to submit to her sexually.

I reached her car and got in the passenger side.

She asked, “Ready to really begin your journey?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded, curious what she had in mind as she began to drive.

“Take off your blouse,” she ordered.

“R-r-really?” I stammered, surprised by her words.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” she said, not looking at me at all, but with a tone that dripped with impatience.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, immediately feeling guilty for annoying her. So although nervous at the task given, I began to unbutton my blouse.

“Good girl,” she purred, her tone quickly returning to soft and sweet.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I absurdly replied, somehow feeling the need to obey her and simultaneously make her happy.

She stopped at a red light just as my last button was undone.

She looked at me and complimented, “Cute bra.”

I admitted, which was true, “I wore it in hopes that you would see it.”

“I know you did,” she smiled, before adding, “now take off your blouse.”

As we started driving, she added, “and the bra.”

I obeyed the task with trepidation, first taking off my blouse. I hesitated briefly, but then unclasped my bra and, after a deep breath, allowed my tits to be free.

“Nice perky tits, my pet,” she complimented.