dominant woman
slut wife

Dominant woman story

 

Dominant woman turns waiter into her slave.

  

  

  

  

 

Jacqueline

by Wayne C. Rogers

 

 

Jacqueline came into Spago's for lunch at Caesar's Palace every Tuesday afternoon at precisely one o'clock.

 

I always waited on her.

 

What I didn't know was that she had begun to request my services as a waiter after the initial visit—after she'd caught me admiring her beautiful legs from afar, not to mention her expensive black leather stiletto-heeled shoes.

 

This was the type of lady who drew the attention of both men and women wherever she went. Standing no more than 5'7" in her high-heeled shoes, she had long brown hair with a blonde tint in it that cascaded around the sharp features of her lovely face. Her eyes were brown and filled with an intensity that could literally stop a man dead in his tracks. She always wore the latest in European fashions, usually tight outfits that accented the shapely curves of her body. There was also a distinct essence about her that seemed to be almost dominant in nature. She radiated a sense of power, strength and authority. The men stared openly at her with desire, and the women with obvious envy, if not outright jealousy.

 

I knew that Jacqueline owned and operated an expensive women's boutique inside the Forum. I'd strolled past it a number of times after work and had even dared to enter it one evening. She had been in the store that particular night, offering me assistance, giving me that peculiar smile all women seem to have when they know that a man is interested in them.

 

My relationship with this sensuous being changed dramatically on the day she had lunch in the restaurant and dropped her cloth napkin on the floor, motioning for me to come and pick it up for her. It had fallen from her lap to the floor underneath the small table. As I knelt down beside her on one knee and reached under the table for the napkin, Jacqueline nonchalantly shifted her position in the chair, gently brushing one of her crossed legs against my arm. I suddenly smelt the scent of perfume on her body and became aroused at the proximity of our bodies to each other. Picking up the napkin and handing it to her, I noticed a mischievous grin playing upon her full red lips. She politely thanked me and then complimented me on how well I looked on my knees. I stood hesitantly back up and asked if there was anything else I could do for her. She said that it would be nice if I could bring her a clean napkin. I quickly apologized for my thoughtlessness and hurried to get her another one. When I returned and handed her the napkin, she thanked me for my kindness, her dark eyes sparkling with playfulness.

 

Jacqueline was on my mind every minute of every day for the following week. I constantly replayed the brush of her leg against my arm and wondered if it had actually been an accident. It took forever for Tuesday to arrive. I was like a child waiting eagerly for Santa Claus to make an appearance on Christmas Eve.

 

When the lady of my dreams finally walked into Spago's , my face lit up like a lighthouse beacon. She saw me out the corner of her eye and totally ignored my presence, causing me to experience a sudden sense of despair. I didn't even get a smile from Jacqueline. It was all I could do to wait on her, trying not to show my true feelings.

 

Jacqueline eventually asked me to bring her a cup of coffee while she continued to study the menu. When I brought the coffee to her table, she added Sweet & Low and cream to it, making me wait to take her order, stirring the coffee ever so slowly with a small spoon, paying absolutely no attention to my subtle display of irritation. I watched with surprise as she laid the spoon down on the edge of the table and then deliberately knocked it off onto the floor. Jacqueline looked up at me with such innocence in her eyes. She asked if I could please pick up the spoon for her and then bring her a clean one.

 

My mouth immediately became dry and my heart began to beat faster.

 

I glanced casually around to see if anyone was staring in my direction, then got down on one knee and reached under the table for the spoon. I stared at her legs as she slowly uncrossed and then re-crossed them, presenting me with a clear view of her stocking tops, garter tabs, and the crotch of her dark brown panties. I barely noticed the toe of her right foot moving to my lips. She pressed the tip of her brown leather shoe to my mouth, silently commanding me to kiss it.

 

I did so with great reverence!

 

A soft sigh of contentment drifted down to my ears as I ran my tongue over the front and side of her shoe, then up her instep and ankle. I was experiencing an unimaginable high. Only the fear of being seen and possibly fired caused me to finally stop what I was doing. Quickly grabbing the spoon, I stood back up with a very flushed face and told her that I'd be back in a moment with a clean one. Little was said during the rest of her lunch; and, after she left, I silently cursed myself for not being more aggressive in my approach with her. I could have given Jacqueline my phone number, but I didn't. The fact is that I found myself utterly intimidated by this woman, and I didn't know how to handle the strange emotions that she was bringing out in me. The only thing I knew for certain was that I couldn't wait another week to see her.

 

On Wednesday afternoon, I decided to stroll by her boutique during my lunch break. It took several minutes for me to build up the courage to enter the store. When I finally did, I saw her standing behind the counter, talking to one of her female employees. She saw me and smiled, causing my heart to skip a beat.

 

Stepping out from behind the counter, Jacqueline walked over to me and asked how I was doing. I was tongue tied and couldn't think of anything intelligent to say. She asked if there was anything she could help me with, and the only answer I could think of was that I needed to buy a gift for a friend's birthday. Her smile grew even bigger at my obvious lie. She suggested that some sexy lingerie might be the ideal birthday gift for a woman. Before I could reply to her comment, she grabbed me by the elbow and guided me to the other side of the store where the bras, panties, garter belts, and corsets were located. Jacqueline said that women always liked to receive black lingerie because black is a power color, and it made them feel more dominant toward their lovers and husbands. She picked out a pair of black silk panties with a high French cut and placed them in my hand, telling me to feel the crotch to see how soft it was. She then suggested that I rub the panties gently against the side of my face. I was embarrassed, yet excited by what she had me do.

 

Jacqueline asked what size panties my lady friend wore, and I had to tell her that I didn't know, but that I though she might about her size. She stared silently at me for a full minute, then asked if I'd really come into the boutique to buy something, or was it perhaps just to see her.

 

I admitted my deception.

 

A frown replaced the smile on Jacqueline's face. She told me in no uncertain terms that I should get down on my knees right there in the store and apologize to her for lying.

 

She was serious, too!

 

I clearly suspected that if I didn't do as demanded, I'd probably never see her again. Glancing around the store, I saw that the employee standing behind the counter was staring at us with acute interest. The sound of Jacqueline's voice interrupted my thoughts as she once again commanded me to get down on my knees.

 

I took a deep breath and then slowly got down on the carpeted floor in front of her, instinctively knowing that the clerk at the counter was silently laughing at my humiliation. I stared upward at Jacqueline and apologized for my deception. She graciously accepted the apology, then ordered me to kiss both of her feet as atonement. I bent over and kissed the toes of both shoes, momentarily lost in the symbolic act of paying homage to this very dominant woman.

 

As I left the boutique, Jacqueline told me how much she looked forward to lunch on Tuesday. She said that if I gave her exceptional service, she might allow me the pleasure of kissing her feet again.

 

That night at home, I thought about what I'd done earlier in the day and the sexual excitement I'd felt when kneeling at Jacqueline's feet. The act of kissing her toes seemed to represent the very nature of femininity, as well as the strong power that women have over the male species. What I had done was filled with purer adulation. It was a way of demonstrating to her just how much she meant to me and that I was willing to do almost anything to please her.

 

By the time Tuesday finally rolled around and Jacqueline had entered the restaurant, I was a bundle of nerves. I couldn't stop from wondering what she had in store for me and how I'd respond to it.

 

Walking over to Jacqueline's table after giving her a couple of minutes to get settled, I swallowed deeply and braced myself for the unexpected, trying to act calm and nonchalant about the situation.

 

I handed her a menu.

 

She took it from me and laid it down on the table. Jacqueline then reached into her purse and pulled out a large black leather dog collar. I stared at it in confusion as she instructed me to go to the restroom and to put the collar on around my neck—that she expected me to have it on when I returned to her table. I tried to explain that employees of the restaurant weren't allowed to wear dog collars while on duty, and that if I obeyed her command, I'd be fired.

 

She simply stared at me in silence.

 

I didn't know what to do. I wanted desperately to obey her; yet, I was also afraid of the negative attention that the collar would draw.

 

Jacqueline held the collar up for me to take, offering me a bright, cheery smile of encouragement. Shrugging my shoulders as if it wasn't really that important to me, I reluctantly took the collar and went into the restroom. I looked for an empty stall and quickly stepped inside. As I unbuckled the collar, I noticed a small plate of silver riveted to the outside back of it. Engraved on the plate were the words: "This slave is the property of Mistress Jacqueline."

 

It took me a few seconds to grasp the full meaning of those words. Goose bumps began to suddenly pop up on my arms. I realized that Jacqueline was a dominant female and that it was clearly her intention to make me a slave. The whole game being played out between us took on an entirely new meaning—one that stunned me to the very core of my being.

 

I was both scared and sexually aroused at the same time.

 

Maybe this is what I've been searching for, I thought to myself, wrapping the collar around my neck and then buckling it. Since there was no way for me to hide the collar under my work shirt, it would be out in plain sight for everyone to see. I wondered how soon I'd be standing in the unemployment line? Well, my life was about to take a drastic turn, and I could only pray that it was for the best.

 

Walking back out into the busy restaurant and moving toward Jacqueline's table, I felt like everyone was staring at me. I knew there was no turning back. I had to keep moving forward and hope that a relationship was possible with this woman.

 

Jacqueline's eyes glowed with delight when she saw me approaching her table with the slave collar on. I think we both understood that a very important bridge had just been crossed. She smiled happily at me and commented on how well the collar looked around my neck. I tried to keep my composure as I took her lunch order, but it was extremely difficult. She said that there were two ladies seated behind me who had their eyes on the collar. Jacqueline then told me that she had on a brand new pair of black leather shoes with four-inch heels and asked if I'd like to experience the pleasure of kissing them.

 

I nodded my head.

 

She then turned sideways in her chair and commanded me to get down on my knees in front of her and to kiss her feet while everyone looked. There would be no ruse of a fallen napkin or spoon to hide my actions this time.

 

The sound of Jacqueline's voice brought me back to the present moment; and, without thinking, I got down on my knees and kissed the toes of both of her shoes. I could almost see my reflection in the shiny gloss of the new leather. The smell was rich and intoxicating. She told to lick the front and sides of her shoes—to worship them as if they were sacred artifacts.

 

I heard the sudden intake of breath and the grasping sounds of shock as the customers sitting closest to us watched my strange behavior, not knowing what to make of it. Sliding my tongue lightly over the toe of her right shoe, I tasted the leather and moaned in ecstasy. I didn't care if I got fired. All that mattered was that I please this incredible woman.

 

When I finished kissing Jacqueline's shoes and strengthened back up, she nodded her head in satisfaction and then slid her legs back to the front of the chair, offering me a brief glimpse of black stocking tops, garters, luscious thighs, and the black silk crotch of her panties. I felt the beating of my heart increase in speed and knew that I falling in love with her.

 

The sound of my name being called jarred me from the reverie playing out in the deepest regions of my heart and soul. I turned hesitantly around and saw my supervisor standing a few feet away, staring down at me with a confused expression on his face. Shaking his head in disbelief, he ordered me to stand up and to take off the dog collar. He then told to report to his office at the end of my shift. I looked back at Jacqueline with a sudden sadness, knowing that this would be my last day at Spago's, wondering if I'd ever see her again. She glanced at my supervisor with a touch of anger in her eyes, then shifted her attention back down to me and asked when my shift ended.

 

I told her it would be over at four o'clock.

 

Jacqueline commanded me not to remove the collar and that she'd meet me at the restaurant before I left. I glanced back at my supervisor and saw him still standing there. I shrugged my shoulders, realizing that the only reason he hadn't fired me on the spot was because he was shorthanded today.

 

The next couple of hours were two of the longest in my life. Every customer I waited on stared at the collar around my neck with either outright humor or disapproval. Jacqueline stayed until two-thirty, offering me a smile of encouragement every time I passed her table. She gave me the strength to endure the humiliation of the collar and the coming wrath of my supervisor.

 

When I finally finished my shift and entered the supervisor's office, he wasted no time in expressing his outrage over my conduct, not to mention the slave collar I'd continued to wear after being told to remove it. He stated that under the circumstances there was no choice but to terminate my employment and to issue me a final paycheck.

 

I didn't argue with him.

 

I'd made my choice when I decided to obey Jacqueline's command, and it was now time for me to accept responsibility for my actions.

 

Experiencing a mixture of different emotions as I walked to the entrance of the restaurant, the sight of Jacqueline waiting outside lifted my spirits. My heart soared with happiness and anticipation.

 

She'd kept her word.

 

That meant a great deal to me. As I drew closer to her, I noticed that she was holding what appeared to a dog leash in her hand. I thought it somewhat odd, until she ordered me to get down on my hands and knees in front of the hundreds of people making their way through the Forum, to kiss her feet, and to publicly beg for the privilege of being her slave. I had no choice but to obey her. I'd already committed myself to serving her and had lost my job for it. In many ways, I was now at her mercy.

 

I slowly got down on my hands and knees in front of my Mistress and begged for the privilege of serving her, offering absolute obedience to her every command, and pledging my undying loyalty to her. I also told Jacqueline that I loved her. She then gave me permission to kiss her feet. Afterwards, she fastened the dog leash to my collar and instructed me to stay on my hands and knees as we made our way back to her boutique. For a moment I felt a wave of panic start to overtake me. I didn't want to crawl back to her store like a pet on a leash.

 

That was more humiliation than I could bear.

 

Jacqueline, however, assured me that she would view my humble act of submission as proof of my sincerity to serve her.

 

The short trip from Spago's to her boutique seemed to take forever. People watched us with perplexed expressions. I could hear some of them laughing and snickering. My Mistress appeared to almost revel in the attention that was directed at us. There was no doubt in my mind that she wanted to display her new slave and the power she had over men in a way few people would be able to disregard. By the time we reached her store, my male ego was clearly shattered, my knees were sore from crawling on the hard tile, and my neck was aching from Jacqueline's constant tugging at the leash.

 

Once we were inside the boutique, she informed her two female clerks that there would now be a new employee working there. She made sure they understood that I was to be worked hard at all times and that they had the power to punish me at their own discretion. My Mistress then told me that I would now be living at her house and would be serving her as a full-time slave—that in time I would come to understand that the only true purpose for a man was in servitude to the female species. The life of a slave would be a hard one, but obedience would definitely have its own rewards.

 

An old Native American saying goes something like this: "The world began when I was born and will end when I die." Well, my world began on the day Jacqueline took me as her slave.

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