This is my story, how I became a kept woman, not in the traditional sense of the phrase, but owned and controlled in the most beautiful way. I do not want to sound weak or pathetic and I definitely am not looking for sympathy. I am a highly educated woman with several qualifications in economics who chose willingly and happily to surrender body and mind to my mistress.
Six years ago, after a very successful internship, I secured a very sought after and well-paid position in a family run business, I was very proud of my achievement and worked diligently with the aim of moving on and taking my career further. This was until I met someone who would change my world.
She was a big client, the top account for the company, but it wasn’t her wealth that I gravitated to. When I first met her, she had a unique quality which I am still unable to explain…. mesmerising almost. She was always impeccably dressed and had a unique style, a silk blouse, pencil skirt with a side split, boots and a cropped jacket which suited her rather tall stature and proportions that I found myself studying on every visit. I am not sure when I realised I was captivated by her. Perhaps it was when I began imitating her. Dressing identically to how I had last seen her, down to the stockings I had caught the briefest glance of at one meeting or it could have been the elation when the next meeting was sent through knowing I would see her again.
All our meetings were completely business focused and mostly in a room of six or more people. Over time this gradually changed to improve efficiency within the company (my suggestion), I took on more responsibility for the account which was noted by both parties as a good fit. It was later that we heard that travel to our offices was becoming ‘burdensome’ and therefore I would go to see her, which I had no issue in accepting.
I remember before my first off-site meeting being anxious but excited to see her again, and where she lived. Having agonised over what to wear, I opted for what she might dress in, a cream silk blouse, navy pencil skirt and low heels, with hold-ups as the final addition to the ensemble. My journey across London was awful. The jubilee line was crowded and hot, further ruined by a rude man emptying part of the contents of his flat white on the back of my blouse. Something I would only find out later!
When I arrived at the Georgian townhouse house I was not at all composed, despite my efforts to hide this. I had a few minutes to gather my thoughts after being shown into ‘the salon’ before meeting her as she entered the room and greeted me. All my anxiety melted away. Her smile, beautiful blue-green eyes and warm voice transported me to a happy place.
She was quick to notice the coffee incident which immediately brought me back to a state of fluster and embarrassment. Again she dealt with it by insisting I borrowed one of her blouses whilst it was sent for dry cleaning. She walked me up two flights of stairs and across a large hallway to a beautifully appointed dressing room and walk-in wardrobe. She positioned me in front of a row of over fifty blouses and gestured for me to choose one. I tried but was incapable of thought. I felt dizzy and a little overwhelmed, so much that I asked if I might sit down, trying to regain my composure. She breezed through the garments and selected one which she deemed ‘perfect’ presenting it to me.
I took the blouse thanking her and waited, expecting she would excuse herself and leave. An awkward silence followed as I felt I couldn’t ask her to leave. After all, she was our most important client. It was her house and she had been generous enough to take care of my wardrobe malfunction.
I began unbuttoning my blouse as she sat and watched. I began to feel dizzy and flushed, but this turned into a warm pleasant feeling as I reached the final button and slipped off my top. Then standing almost to attention….waiting…..waiting for permission to put her blouse on. It was like the most natural thing to do. I even found myself asking out loud which made her smile warmly.
After dressing, we moved down to her study and carried on the business that was scheduled for that day. Although it took all my concentration to focus on my work, noticing I would ask for permission for almost everything. I wanted so badly for her to take an interest and appreciate what I was doing. When I left later that day and the door closed, I felt lost, empty as if I had left a piece of me behind and spent the entire evening musing over my day.
Having arrived at work the following day, I was elated to find I had a follow-up appointment booked for the next week. It could not come soon enough for me and counted the hours. Everything in between hardly mattered. Work, friends, even celebrating my birthday (my next meeting was scheduled two days after).
On the day of my birthday, I had a courier delivery. She had sent a full outfit, and a handwritten note wishing me a happy birthday. She was anticipating our next appointment. In the beautiful gift wrapping was a gorgeous cream Chanel dress, white silk and lace Myla g-string and matching waspie with suspenders and tan lace topped stockings. I tried the outfit on immediately. My heart lifted. I imagined her watching as I changed. My nipples hardened and I felt a hint of wetness, instant arousal which didn’t subside until I took the outfit off.
I put it on again on the day of our meeting and felt the same sensation. It was incredibly distracting on the tube journey. I took great care to avoid people with hot drinks. Again on my arrival, I was shown into the salon where I waited for over half an hour. I become a little frustrated but still incredibly aroused. Now conscious of the rather obvious way my nipples made their presence known on the front of my new dress, not having any bra to hide my excitement. Finally, she appeared and again I melted, she complimented me on my outfit and I actually giggled.
This meeting was different from the previous business meeting. We began by taking tea, which was a novel experience. We sat opposite one another talking about anything other than business. All the while I could feel her eyes on me the intensity made me dizzy, followed by joy. I liked her watching me. I wanted her to see how excited I was. I needed her to see how excited I was!
I found an opportunity to let the hem of the dress ride up, to see if she was interested in what she sent me to wear. It was clumsy and not how I planned it in my head. So obviously staged that she openly asked me if I had something to show her. Without a second thought, I stood, unhooked the fastening on the dress and let it fall to the floor. I felt a heady mixture of emotion, joy, happiness, arousal, anxiety that was so overwhelmingly powerful. I climaxed as she sat drinking her tea.
I was told I should stay like this for the duration of the meeting. This I happily did to the point it felt so normal to me that I had to be reminded to get dressed before I left at the end of the day. Each meeting after that I did exactly the same. But I would ask for permission first. On the eighth meeting, and after asking permission to take off my dress, I was presented with a document. I was to give up my life to serve and become her property.
This was what I had longed for and dreamed of. I had no hesitation in agreeing, my reward was my first collar, I had never been happier.
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That sounds almost too good to be true, more please!
i enjoyed the story with its subtle sensuality – i hope there is more to come