My lesbian toygirl

 

Ever since I can remember, back to the age of 6 or 7, I’ve known
that my orientation was toward other girls. At the age of 9, I told
my mother that I would never marry because you could only marry men.
She spanked me and told me not to talk nonsense like that, especially
in front of others. So I learned to hide my feelings and desires. By
the age of 14, I knew that I was submissive. My fondest wish was to
be taken and *used* by some older woman – a strong, beautiful woman
who would take care of me, control me, and, most of all, use me.

At 14, I was a real tomboy – short hair, boyish build (no breasts
to spreak of), tight little butt, and slender legs. I could beat most
of the boys my age at any sport they wanted to try, so I wasn’t too
popular with them. And the girls disliked me because I was too much
like one of the boys. It was a lose/lose situation, but I didn’t
care. I was waiting. I waited all through high school and while I
waited I was the good little girl my mom wanted. I wore dressed,
learned how to wear makeup, dated, went to the prom, and engaged in
all sorts of school activities – sports, drama club, and even tried
out for cheerleading one year. I even fucked a couple of the guys I
dated. And during the entire four years I felt like I wanted to barf.

College was more of the same, except the guys were worse than
they’d been in high school. The other girls, for the most part, were
also the same as they’d been in high school – interested in boy,
gossip, and the latest fashions. There were one or two that I met
that seemed different and were, but in the end turned out not to be
what I wanted. My college experience boiled down to two things: I
got a good education and it wasn’t quite as bad as high school.

After graduation, I got a job with a small software company. I was
hired as a contract negotiator – my major was finance – and I liked it
right from the start. The company was small, but well-run and the
products they developed were good and sold well. I participated in
the 401k and by the time I’m 30 I should be in good financial shape.
I’m 26 now, but my search for the woman of my dreams came to an end
six months ago when I met Stephanie. We met at a cocktail party given
by one of the vice-presidents in my division. She told me later that
it was my blonde hair that attracted her initially. I guess I should
describe myself. My hair is very pale blonde, turning almost white in
the summer after I’ve been out in the sun a few times. I’m 5’6″,
slender, and fairly pretty. I weigh 115 pounds and measure 34b-23-34.
My slim, sleek legs are my best feature. I have green eyes and
freckles. Stephanie, who’s 28, is a manager at one of our best
customers. She’s tall, just over 5’10”, and very athletic. She has
long brown hair, hazel eyes, and a beautiful olive complexion. With
her bright eyes and bold features, she is one of those women who is
often referred to as striking or handsome rather than pretty.

I was standing in a corner, nursing a martini, when she slipped
through the crowd and introduced herself. I smiled back and told her
my name. We chatted for a few minutes, mostly business, and then she
glanced around at the crowd. “Susan,” she asked, “Are you having fun
or would you like to get out of here?” I hesitated for a moment.
“What do you have in mind?” She grinned. “Taking you somewhere quiet
where I can turn you over my knee and give you the spanking of your
life!” I stared at her in shock for a moment. Then I put my glass
down on a nearby table and held my hand out. She took it and led me
through the crowd. As we walked out to the parking lot we continued
to exchange personal information. One thing we determined quickly was
that her house was much closer than my apartment. I followed her
Lexus in my Miata. It took us no more than 15 minutes to reach her
house. It was almost 11:00 p.m. when we arrived. Her house turned
out to be a big colonial set on a large lot in one of the better
suburbs. She pulled into the driveway and I followed. The driveway
circled around to the back of the house where there was a three-car
garage attached to the house. Two of the doors were opening. She
pulled into one and I pulled into the other.

When I got out, she was waiting for me. As the garage doors closed
she smiled and said, “You can leave your clothes in the car or wear
them into the kitchen.” I hesitated. I was thrilled and very
excited, but I didn’t want to make a mistake. I glanced at her then
down at the floor. “What would you prefer?” She chuckled. “Good
answer. Leave them on for now.” She took my hand and led me inside.
She released my hand and closed the door to the garage. Then she
pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. I stood where I’d
stopped and waited for her to tell me what to do. She took a minute
to look me over. I was wearing a little black dress with a scooped
neckline, white stockings, and black medium-heeled pumps. My jewelery
was gold, plain, simple pieces – a rope chain, earrings, and a watch.
Stephanie smiled up at me and said, “Pretty, very pretty. Simple, but
elegant. You are a jewel!” I felt myself blushing as I thanked her.
She patted her lap. “Come and lie down here. Let’s see what you can
take.” As I approached she told me to pull my dress up. I obeyed and
she grinned when she saw that I was wearing thigh highs and silk
bikini panties. I stretched myself across her lap and crossed my
wrists behind my back as directed. I stared at the floor, hardly
daring to breathe as she pulled my panties down to my knees. I took a
deep breath as she caressed my bare buttocks with one hand while
holding my wrists with the other. She was quite strong and I knew
that I probably wouldn’t be able to escape her grip even if I wanted
to do so.

“Have you ever been spanked?” I shook my head.

She pinched me on the thigh and I yelped. “I expect a verbal
answer. And be polite.”

I nodded. “No, ma’am, I’ve never been spanked.” She patted my ass
and told me that was better.

“This is your last chance to back out. Stay or go?”

I glanced back over my shoulder and whispered, “Stay.”

She grinned. Then her hand went up and dropped. Fast. Hard.
Craaaccck! I squirmed, but didn’t make a sound. It hurt like hell!
And felt so good. She gave me a dozen hard whacks and I was crying by
the fourth. Sobbing loudly by the seventh. After twelve she paused
and asked me if I could take another twelve. “Yes, ma’am,” I
whispered. “Please….” She gave me another dozen even harded than
the first twelve. When it was over, she eased me off her lap onto my
knees. I knelt there, sobbing and rubbing my sore ass. She lifted my
chin and kissed me on the mouth. God, it was perfect! She told me to
stand up and take my dress off. I hopped up and pulled my dress off
over my head, draping it neatly over the back of a chair. My bra and
panties followed a minute later. Then, wearing only stockings and
shoes, I was taken on a tour of the house.

As we left the livingroom and mounted the stairs to the second
floor, Stephanie asked me how it felt to be virtually nude. I glanced
up at her and whispered, “It feels…. right. Very right.” She
showed me around the upstairs. There were four bedrooms and two full
baths. Every room was decorated beautifully and I fell in love with
the house and with Stephanie. She was the strong, dominant woman I’d
been seeking. After I’d seen the upstairs, we returned to the
kitchen. Stephanie sat on the counter by the sink and had me stand in
front of her. Her knees touched my belly as I stood, as directed,
with my hands clasped behind my back. She toyed with my nipples as
she questioned me about my past experiences. She was surprised and
delighted to discover that she was the first woman to spank me. She
frowned when I told her that I fucked a few guys in high school and
one in college. But her frown went away while I told her I’d been
quite celibate since college. She told me to turn around and bend
over. I obeyed and blushed when her fingers grazed my anus. “How
about here? Has anybody penetrated you here?”

I glanced back at her and whispered, “No, nobody.” She nodded and
told me to turn and face her again. She went back to toying with my
nipples. I asked her if she thought my breasts were too small. She
shook her head. “No, they’re perfect. Small and pert and oh so
sensitive.” I sighed with pleasure as she pinched my nipples and
pulled them gently. The questions resumed and I answered fully and
truthfully. Finally, “Susan, what do you want?”

I glanced around and took a deep breath before answering. “I want
to be loved and cherised and controlled. I want to be……. owned.”

She smiled and kissed me. “A slave. You want to be a slave?”

I nodded. “Yes, I want to be your slave. Take me, train me, own
me. Please!”

“Limits?’ She asked.

“None.” I replied.

“On your knees….. slave.”

I dropped to my knees and kissed the tips of her shoes. She left
me on my knees while she went to get a collar. It was a narrow collar
made of hand-tooled black leather. It didn’t fit quite snugly enough,
but she promised me one of my own that did. She locked it on with a
small stainless steel padlock. Then she sent me home. She gave me
the weekend and Monday to pack my things and put them in storage. I
called in on Monday and told them I was taking a couple of vacation
days. It cost me an extra $200, but I had a mover there that day to
take my things to a long-term storage facility. My landlord wasn’t
happy until I said I’d forfeit my security deposit. On Monday
evening, at 7:00 p.m., I arrived back at Stephanie’s house. I had a
few personal belongings and a small suitcase with a few clothes and my
toiletries. I was wearing a cropped t-shirt, cutoff denim jeans, my
collar, and jogging shoes. No underwear. I pulled in and opened the
garage with the remote that Stephanie had given me. Her car wasn’t in
the garage. I had a key to the house, but I didn’t go inside. When
Stephanie arrived at 7:30 I was on my knees behind my Miata, nude,
waiting for her. When she got out of her car I crawled to her on my
belly and licked the tips of her shoes in submission. She crouched
and stroked my hair gently. I shivered with pleasure when she told me
that I was a good girl and would make an excellent slave.

We went inside then. She walked and I followed on my hands and
knees. My life as a slave had begun.