I was sitting out on the Lookout Patio, overlooking one of the world’s greatest panoramas, while waiting for my lunch, when I noticed her sitting at the table next to me.

She was a tiny, sexy thing, slender, long brown hair, great big eyes, with a very nice figure. And she was pouting.

The waiter came over to her and asked if he could get her anything, but she declined.

“I’m sorry, miss, but these tables are reserved for customers.”

I looked over, and she looked even more disgruntled than before and started to gather up her things, so I spoke up. “It’s okay Chris, she’s with me. Please bring her a Diet Coke, okay?”

He looked at me for a second, then nodded and left.

“Would you care to share my table? You don’t even need to say anything to me, just enjoy the view. It’s one of the world’s greatest. You probably won’t see anything like it again for quite a while.” And I waved my hand around the view of the Canadian Rockies laid out before us.

She looked at me, irritated. “What, do you work for the tourist bureau or somethin’?” She had a delightful Southern drawl, the kind that Hollywood often tried to imitate, but never quite made.

I laughed, “No, but I love coming here. I’m actually here speaking for a conference.”

“Oh, yeah? I could never do that. I hate speaking in front of a crowd. Even speaking to more than two other people makes me nervous.” She got up and moved over to my table.

So, we chatted about public speaking, what it’s like, and why I like it, even though I am actually an introvert.

She snorted at that. “You don’t seem like an introvert.”

“I hide it well. Actually, a lot of people on stage, like actors, are introverts, and very shy at heart. There are a lot of people like me, introverts masquerading as extroverts.”

She had crossed one shapely bare knee over the other, and was starting to swing it up and down. I had already noticed her legs – it was hard not to in the really short denim cut-offs she was wearing – but now it was as if she were advertising them. I took that as a good sign.

Just then, Chris brought my lunch and her Diet Coke. I thanked him and asked her if she’d like something. She thought for a moment, then ordered a Rueben sandwich, fries, and some sweet iced tea. I smiled at Chris, and asked if he could hurry the order. He smiled back, winked at me, and said he’d see what he could do.

“Friend of yours?” she asked.

I laughed, “No, I just met him for the first time today. But being in a service industry myself, I try to pay attention to service workers, and treat them the way I’d like to be treated.”

She looked at me sideways under her brows with a bit of a smile. “That’s nice. I used to wait tables when I was working my way through college.

“So, Mr. Introvert…”

“James.”

“So, Mr. Jim…what do you do for fun?”

Now, she was flirting with me. Even better! “James, not Jim, please. I write erotic stories.”

Her head came up, “What, like whips and slaves and stuff?”

“Well, I have written about slaves, including the true story of a friend of mine who was a – willing – sex slave, but I’m not into whips much.”

“Get off! You do not know a real-life sex slave!”

“Cross my heart. Well, I know her online…”

“Okay, she’s selling you a line.”

I shook my head, “No, she actually was one. I’ve written extensively about her life, everything she says checks out, and it all hangs together. I believe her absolutely. She’s a neat person. You’d like her. Oh, and she likes girls almost as much as guys. I think she’d really like someone sexy like you!”

She smiled at me and swung her leg even higher, “You think I’m sexy?”

I laughed again, “I think you’re a terrible flirt – and yes, I do think you’re sexy.”

She looked at me sideways again, with that slow, coquettish smile, paused a while, then said, “So, what do you write about when you’re not telling the life story of a sex slave?”

“She’s much more than that, but anyway, my main kink is BDSM.” And I waited.

“Okay, I’ve read about that a bit, but I’m not really sure…what does BDSM mean?”

And that led to a discussion of the various kinks that lived under the BDSM rubric, including my favorite, Dominance and submission. I happily explored that ground for her – and noticed that her nipples were getting quite prominent under her tight, pink t-shirt. Better and better!

Chris brought her lunch, and we continued our conversation, with me recounting some of the things I’d written, and her asking question after question about the various kinks I’d explored, both in real life, and in my writing.

We’d both finished our lunch, I’d signaled Chris for the bill, paid it for both of us, then I thought it was about time to steer the conversation in another direction.

“I’m guessing someone stood you up. Is that why you were so annoyed?”

Her face immediately clouded over, and she uncrossed her legs, putting both feet flat on the ground and leaning forward. “No. Well, yes and no. My friend Melissa and I have talked about coming to Canada for a long time. It’s such a beautiful country that I’ve heard so much about that I’ve always wanted to visit here. So, Mel and I finally decided it would make a great place for a hiking vacation. But when we got here, she met a guy, and suddenly I’m dog meat! She dumped me, and instead of enjoying this…” she waved her arm at the view, “…she’s fucking this asshole upstairs!”

She looked down at her feet. “There’s no way I’m going hiking in the outback alone. And this damn hotel is too expensive for me to stay here the whole vacation.” The pout returned.

I looked at her and chuckled. “You’re going to think this is a line, but my conference is finished, and while I would normally be flying back home to Toronto, I decided to stay for a week and do some hiking myself. As I said, this is one of my favourite places to visit. Can I show you some of the sights? Typical Canadian courtesy is all. Eh?”

She looked up at me and laughed. “Well, shucks, if that is a line, it’s a damn good one.” She paused. “If we did…could you maybe tell me some more about this Dom stuff?” And she looked down and blushed.

I waited a beat, and tossed a coin in my head. It came up exactly the way I wanted it to.

“Sure, but can I ask a personal question?”

She looked up, hesitated, then said, “Uh-huh.”

“Are your panties wet?”

She looked up quickly, startled, and blushed even deeper, then dropped her head again so that her hair cascaded around her face, concealing it, then said, very quietly, “Yes.”

I waited a moment, then stood up and held out my hand. “Come with me,” I said in a firm voice, the one I use when I’m making an important point from the stage.

She looked up at me for a moment, then stood, and took my hand.

Sara had already checked out of her hotel room, and had left her luggage with the porter. We collected it, and I carried her suitcase as we made our way to my suite.

As I wanted room to spread out my hiking and camping gear, I’d upgraded myself to a mini-suite at the Banff Springs Hotel, rather than the standard room the conference had reserved for me, so there was no problem finding a place for her stuff.

We put it down just inside the door to the hallway, then I led her into the living room.

“Stand here,” I said, pointing to a spot in the middle of the room, while I went and sat on one of the wing chairs, facing her.

She stood where I had pointed, looking down, face flushed, fidgeting her hands and looking bashful – and quite adorable.

“Before we start, I need to make a couple of things clear. First, this is completely consensual. If, at any time, you do not want to continue, you must let me know, and we will stop. I’d like you to say ‘red light’ if you reach that point, okay?”

She nodded while continuing to stare at the carpet.

“If you want to slow down, discuss what’s happening, or just take a breather, you say, ‘yellow light.’ And if I ask if you’re okay, and you want to keep going, you say, ‘green light.’ These are the traditional, and simplest, forms of safe words. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“And will you use these safe words if you need to?”

She turned on her ankles, back and forth, then said, “But I trust you. Why do I need them?” She looked up with a mischievous smile and said, “Or maybe I shouldn’t trust you…”

I looked at her. “That’s something you’ll need to decide, but you must use these words, or else we can’t play. And that’s what this is: play. I’m not going to lock you in my dungeon and torture you. At least, not yet – that takes a lot more trust, and we don’t have that. But I do need to be able to trust you to tell me if you’ve had enough, not because you can’t trust me, but because I can’t read your mind. Only you know what you’re feeling, and whether it’s too much. Understand?”

“I guess…”

I sighed. “Okay, let’s start and see how it goes. I may decide not to have you as my submissive if I can’t trust you to tell me, but let’s try.

“Now, subject to your safe words, are you willing to give control of your body to me, to let me use it for our mutual pleasure? Do you promise to do whatever I tell you?”

Still turning back and forth, she looked at me coquettishly and said, “Anything? Like, take my clothes off, ‘n stuff?”

“And stuff,” I replied, “but definitely take your clothes off. In fact, let’s start there.”

I stood up and walked over to her. “Clasp your hands behind your back.”

She gingerly did as I instructed. I took hold of the hem of her pink t-shirt with both hands, and slowly lifted it up, gradually revealing her midriff, then the bottom of her tits, then, with a little tug, her bra-less nipples bounced free. When I got it up to her armpits, I lifted the collar up and over her head, leaving the shirt tucked under her arms in front, but with the bottom hem now around the back of her shoulders. I pulled her long hair up and free of the t-shirt, allowing it to trail down her back again. I stopped when the bottom hem was about halfway down her shoulder blades.

The t-shirt was now pinning her arms together above her elbows, which secured her hands behind her. She could, if she wanted, wrestle them free, but the effect was more psychological than real: her hands were bound behind her, her tits were exposed, and I could do whatever I wanted with them.

I let my hands trail down her collar bone, between, but not touching, her tits, and come to rest at the button to her cutoffs.

“Last chance to chicken out. Do you want me to take your shorts and panties off?”

She swallowed, then nodded.

“No, you have to say it.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You have to beg me. ‘Please take off my shorts and panties.’”

She swallowed again, then said in a low voice, “Please take off my shorts and panties.”

“Louder.”

“Please take off my shorts and panties!”

“You want me to be able to see your tits and cunt, and do whatever I want with them?”

She nodded again.

“Say it.”

 She gulped, and said, “I want you to be able to see my tits and…and…cunt, and do whatever you want with them.”

“Beg me.”

“P…please.”

“Please do whatever you want with my tits and cunt, Master.”

She stopped. I waited.

“Please…”

“Louder!”

“Please do whatever you want with my tits and cunt…um, Master.”

I put my hands on the button at the top of her cutoff’s zipper, and as slowly as I could unbuttoned it. I ran one finger from each hand all around inside her shorts and panties until they met at the back, then ran them back again, easing both down just a little bit, just enough so she could feel they were lower.

Then I returned to the zipper, and as slowly as I could, pulled it down, then pushed the two sides wide open. Leaving her panties where they were, I eased the shorts down as slowly as I could, smoothing my palms along the outsides of her legs while holding the shorts so they didn’t just drop to the floor, until my hands reached her knees.

“Spread your legs wide enough that they hold your shorts up tight.”

She worked her legs apart until her shorts were tight, forming a bridge between her legs.

I stepped back and looked at her panties. “My goodness, your panties look wet. Do your panties feel wet to you, Sara?”

She nodded.

“Out loud, please. Do your panties feel wet to you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, my panties feel wet.”

“My panties feel wet…?”

“Um…Master?”

“Yes. Tell me, do good little girls get wet panties from tales of slaves and whips and stuff?”

She shook her head.

“Out loud, please.”

“No, good little girls don’t get wet panties from tales of slave and whips ‘n stuff.”

“Who does get wet panties from such filthy tales?”

She looked at me, then said, “Uh…dirty girls?”

“Dirty, filthy cunts, do you mean?”

“Yes, dirty, filthy c…cunts.”

“And what does that make you?”

“A dirty, filthy c…cunt?”

“Is that a question, or a statement?”

“I’m a dirty, filthy cunt.”

“And should dirty, filthy cunts be punished?”

Her eyes were wide, she was breathing hard, and the wet patch on her panties was growing.

“Yes, dirty, filthy c…cunts should be punished.”

I brought my face close to her, “Do you want me to punish you, you dirty, filthy cunt?”

“Uh, yes?”

“You’re not sure.”

“Yes, I want you to punish me.”

“Beg me.”

“Please, Master, punish me!”

“Please Master, punish this dirty, filthy cunt.”

“Please Master, punish this dirty, filthy cunt!”

“Bring your legs together, cunt.”

She walked her legs together, and her shorts fell to the floor.

I put my hand between her legs, feeling her panties. “They are very wet. Only a really filthy slut would be this wet. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

I slowly pushed her panties down her legs, smoothing them against the outside of her thighs, then knees, then calves, until they reached her ankles. I let them remain there. She had a light fuzz of reddish-colored hair on her mound, and she was shivering with excitement.

“Step out of your shorts and panties, dirty girl.”

She stepped out of them, kicking them away.

I stepped in close, invading her private space deliberately, looking down at her. She was almost panting now, and the shivers increased.

“I don’t think wet panties belong on the nice, clean carpet, do you?”

“No, Master.”

“Where can we put them that’s not on the floor, not on any of this nice furniture? Somewhere that we can find them whenever we want to remind dirty cunts of what sluts they are. Don’t you think we need to find that kind of a…cubby hole?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So, where do you think we should store them, hmm?”

She blinked and thought. “In my hands, perhaps?”

“No, I don’t think so. Try again.”

She paused, “On my head?”

“To remind you how dirty you are? Good idea, and you’re getting warmer, but not quite.”

“Not…not in…in my mouth.”

“Ah! Now there’s a wonderful idea! We would certainly be able to find them then, wouldn’t we, cunt?”

“Y…yes, Master.”

I stepped back, bent over and picked them up, then rolled them so that the damp patch was on the outside, turned it so that was facing down, and held it to her mouth.

“Open your mouth, please,” I said.

She slowly opened her mouth wide. I gently pushed her panties in so they were completely inside her mouth.

“Close it, and keep it closed until I give you permission to open it. Understand?”

Her eyes were huge, but she nodded. I could hear her breath working in and out of her nose.

“Now, what shall we do with a dirty, filthy cunt that might be fun, I ask myself. Let me see…” I took Sara by her hips, with my hands just over the top of her ass, and pushed her over to stand in front of a full-length mirror fastened to the wall just outside of the bathroom. I turned her so she was facing herself.

What she saw were big eyes looking back at her, somewhat frightened, definitely excited. She saw a naked body, with bands of pink binding the top of her arms. Nice sized boobs, a bit big for her height, flushed pink but very pretty, with large Aeolis, and round nipples that stuck out and were rock hard at the moment. And she saw legs spread wide, showing the slightly reddish fuzz just between her legs.

“Now, watch carefully, little slut.” I positioned myself behind her, then put both hands on her tits, grasping them lightly, and massaging them. She moaned, exhaled through her nose, and closed her eyes.

I pinched her nipples hard and she squealed, muffled by the panties in her mouth. “I said, watch, little slut!” I continued to kneed her breasts, then gradually started rolling her nipples between my fingers. Next, I started stretching them, then pulling them harder.

By now, Sara was moaning, and beginning to writhe. Then, as I started pulling and squeezing harder, her eyes got wide, and she started to make “Ow!” noises through the panties in her mouth and panting hard through her nose.

When I stopped, she collapsed back against me, exhaling raggedly. I moved my right hand down to her mound and started massaging her pussy lips with the flat of my hand, moving it around her pubic area, massaging over the hood of her clit. Seemingly without realizing it, she spread her legs wider, pushing her pubis forward, pressing it into my hand. When she pushed harder still, I removed the hand entirely.

She moaned and leaned forward, disappointed.

“Eager little slut, aren’t you?”

Her eyes looked at me in the mirror.

“Aren’t you?” I said, more forcefully.

She looked at me and nodded.

“Would you like me to continue?”

She nodded rapidly.

“Bend forward from the waist, little slut.”

Shifting her feet slightly, she bent forward.

“Now look at yourself in the mirror.”

She looked up, but it was clear she would not be able to sustain that position. I reached forward, grasped a handful of her long, red hair, wounded it around my hand, and pulled up. She was now facing herself and could see her tits hanging down, her locked knees, and me holding her hair, forcing her face to look forward.

I then reached my right hand behind her, between her legs, and started to rub two fingers up and down her slit, parting her pussy lips. “My, your cunt is already soaking wet, and I’ve hardly begun playing with you. You really are a dirty, fucking, whore, aren’t you?”

She attempted to nod, but was restrained by my hold on her hair.

I continued sliding my fingers between her cunt lips, but carefully avoiding her clit. After spreading her juices all around her inner lips, I slipped both fingers inside her.

She moaned loudly through her stuffed mouth, and closed her eyes again.

I withdrew my fingers and smacked her ass hard. She jumped, and her hair jerked against my restraining hand.

“Eyes open, slut! You are to watch yourself being finger fucked so you can see just what a wanton, obedient, little fucktoy you really are. Understand me?”

She attempted to nod again, eyes wide and somewhat frightened.

I returned my fingers to her cunt, and began to gently, but firmly massage her G-spot. She moaned again, and started to close her eyes, then snapped them open when she realized what she was doing. She shifted her feet, spread her legs even wider. Her breathing was getting faster, and drool started to drip down the side of her mouth.

I withdrew my fingers, and she groaned loudly. “You want to be my fucktoy, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Well, you’re going to have plenty of opportunities, especially when I get you out on the trail, where no one can hear you scream.”

She blinked, then opened her eyes wide, looking frightened.

I returned my fingers to her cunt, this time working her G-spot with my thumb inside her, and her clit with my fingers outside. I pressed them slowly at first, then faster and harder. She started moaning consistently, and finally, her legs started to quiver. It was clear that she was approaching an orgasm.

So I stopped, withdrawing my hand completely. I pulled her hair, forcing her to stand up straight, then let it drop to her waist. Her eyes went wide, and she turned to look at me. I pulled her t-shirt off of her arms, dropping it to the floor, then held my hand up to her mouth, and said, “Spit out your panties, you’re going to put them on again.”

Still looking at me, she pushed her panties out of her mouth with her tongue. “You can’t stop now, please!”

“You want to cum, slut?”

“Please!”

“Please…?”

She paused, swallowed, the said, “Um, please, Master?”

“Very good. You’re learning. I am not going to allow you to cum now, but if you do exactly what I say, I will allow you to cum later on. Do you understand?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Okay, first rule: from now on, you do not cum unless I give you permission. Got it?”

She hesitated. “Ever?”

“Ever. Is that a problem, slut?”

She nodded slowly.

“Why is that?”

“I…uh…I masturbate almost every day. Sometimes twice.”

“You can continue to do so. In fact, I want you to. You are just not allowed to cum unless I tell you, explicitly, that you may. Do you understand?”

“Yes…I guess…”

“Yes…?” I said.

She swallowed, “Yes, Master.”

“Good. That’s settled then. Now, put on your panties,” and I handed them to her. They were quite wet by now, both from her original cunt honey, and now from the saliva in her mouth. She started to say something, then stopped herself, and slowly shook out her panties, and put them on very gingerly.

When they were on, she straightened up and looked at me. I reached over, pulled the sides of her panties up high and tight, making a V-shape pointing towards her pussy. “Spread your legs wide.”

She shuffled her feet apart. I bunched her panties into a slim roll, spread her cunt lips with my other hand, and nestled the panties between them, pulling them further up so they snuggled inside her cunt lips and were lodged against her clit.

“Now stand up straight, then put on your shorts.”

She straightened up gingerly, then went over and retrieved her shorts, putting them on.

“Leave the button unbuttoned and do the zipper up just enough to keep your shorts from falling down.”

She slowly complied. I went over to my suitcase, fished around, and came out with an old t-shirt I used when hiking. It had a faded stylized image of a craggy landscape with the words “Grand Canyon” over the top. I threw it to her. “Put this on.”

She slowly put it on. It was very big on her frame, came down just far enough to cover her shorts, and made it look as if that was all she was wearing.

“Now we’re going to go for a short hike. Get your boots and some hiking socks out.”

She looked at me for a moment, seemed as if she was about to say something, then turned and did as I said. “Put them on, girl.”

She moved over, sat on a chair, and put her socks and boots on. Every once in a while, she stopped short, and I knew that her panties had just rubbed her clit hard. She continued breathing quickly and was flushed, but said nothing, which I took as a very good sign.

She had potential, and I was going to have fun finding out how far I could push her…

~~~~~

Almost an hour later, we were walking slowly along the Cave and Basin trail, not that far from the Banff Springs Hotel. Cave and Basin is an easy, level hike on a wheelchair-accessible path, but with one of the most fabulous views in the known world. Across the Bow River, you can see Mount Rundle, with its remarkable sloped face, and a range of other, more conventional, mountains – if anything in the Canadian Rockies can be considered “conventional.” This was one of the paths I fell in love with the first time I visited Banff, in the dead of winter, when I was shivering, but reluctant to go back to my warm hotel room because of the view.

Now I was more interested in another view…that of my shivering new sub. She was walking very gingerly because her silky panties were dragging between her pussy lips, and rubbing along her clit. Plus, her shorts kept threatening to fall down, and I had forbidden her from pulling them up. As a result, she was walking more and more bow-legged to keep them from falling.

I looked around to gauge how busy the trail was at this point. It was late afternoon, and I saw hardly anyone, and those few were distant, and walking back to the parking lot. It was time.

I detoured to a park bench. “Come over here, Little Slut, and sit down.”

She complied slowly, sitting gingerly, and keeping her body upright.

“Isn’t this an amazing view?”

 “Yes, it’s…astonishing. It’s what I always thought this would look like!”

“And now, it’s time for you to cum, just like I promised.”

She looked wildly at me. “Here?”

I looked at her sternly. “You don’t want to cum?”

She bit her lip and looked down, “Y…yes, I do, very much, but…”

I nodded. “I understand. So, here’s what we’ll do. Lift up and take off your shorts.”

She looked sharply at me again, breathed in sharply, then slowly lifted her bum off the bench, reached under my t-shirt, and slid her shorts down her legs. She wrestled with getting them over her boots, but finally did it.

“And now your panties.”

She closed her eyes, then lifted up again, and slowly slid her panties down to her boots. They stuck, momentarily, between her pussy lips, and then sprung free, but there was no way she was going to get them over her boots.

“Take your boots and socks off.”

She paused, then bent down and unlaced her boots, then pulled them off, one after the other, followed by her socks, which she stuffed into her boots. Then she removed her now sodden panties, putting them on the bench.

“Now, give me your shorts and panties. They belong to me now.” And I smiled at her.

She slowly moved to hand them to me, but her hand was shaking.

“Thank you. I like it when a slut does what she’s told, don’t you?

“Now, you have two choices. You can either give me back my t-shirt, or you can play with yourself and cum here and now. Which would you rather do?”

To be continued…