I keep pondering the crossdresser. He touched some nerve, but I’m not sure which one. I play around with my matchnet profile and make some subtle changes. James44 is their first victim.

        James44: Hey Pink, excellent profile. Liked it a lot!
        PinkParanoia: Thanks.
        James44: And I'd love to keep you on the edge!
        PinkParanoia: How would you do that?
        James44: I would tease you, pretending to enter, but just teasingly probing as you are tied to the bed. Your legs would be tied wide, and you would only be touched by one part of me. The part teasing you!
        PinkParanoia: Hmm - you got the right idea mister
        James44: Do you already have a master?
        PinkParanoia: nope
        James44: Can I entice you?
        PinkParanoia: I met you – what – 25 seconds ago?
        James44: But we are of the same spirit!
        PinkParanoia: sounds like it
        James44: Where are you now?
        PinkParanoia: in my office pretending to work
        James44: mm ... wish I was there to stand over you! I would make you work properly.
        PinkParanoia: Do you think I can be taught?
        James44: I would MAKE you be taught! Would turn you back into a soft little girl!
        PinkParanoia: Pervert!
        James44: Do you really think I am a pervert?
        PinkParanoia: Do you really have no sense of irony?
        James44: Of course
        James44: I want to RESTRAIN YOU to tie and tease YOU
        James44: Meet me tonight!
        James44: Just for a drink!
        PinkParanoia: I look like shit – need to go home and change.
        James44: Go home, and change, look good for me, then cum and meet me.
        James44: or I can come to where you live …
        PinkParanoia: hey hey hey – I have no headboard on my bed.
        James44: I can tie you to the legs of the bed.
        PinkParanoia: no legs
        James44: Then will just tie you over the table and blindfold you.
        PinkParanoia: Let’s meet for a drink.
        James44: OK, where?
        PinkParanoia: American Bar, Savoy
        James44: OK, but you MUST wear a sexy black number.
        PinkParanoia: See through or low cut?
        James44: Both! You are coming to pleasure ME remember!
        PinkParanoia: I guess I do
        PinkParanoia: shit
        PinkParanoia: not easy to admit that one is a pervert
        James44: You can admit it to me!
        James44: I have never admitted it to anyone else either.
        James44: But it is exciting!
        PinkParanoia: it is
        James44: We will take our time. I will never harm you, but we will enjoy this!
        PinkParanoia: You reckon?
        James44: Will you come tonight?
        James44: YOU MUST
        PinkParanoia: You mean right there in front of everybody???
        James44: LOL
        James44: I want others to look at you and desire you, so high heels please.
        James44: No, not please, YOU MUST! And hair down, NOT up!
        PinkParanoia: as you wish
        James44: NO knickers
        PinkParanoia: WHAT?
        James44: You are under my command!
        James44: I insist
        James44: No argument
        PinkParanoia: Am I allowed to take them off at the Savoy toilet, please?
        James44: Ok, you take them off when I tell you to!
        PinkParanoia: You are too kind.
        James44: You are learning.
        James44: That is good.
        James44: You have a future.
        PinkParanoia: if you say so
        James44: I will do what I want with you!
        James44: I will tease you with my cock and my tongue.
        PinkParanoia: Let’s start with a drink, ok?
        James44: DO NOT DISSAPOINT ME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
        James44: You will meet me, and kiss me first, before speaking!
        PinkParanoia: just brush your teeth
        James44: Don't be so rude!
        James44: You are not starting off so well!!
        James44: Not a word until I tell you to.
        PinkParanoia: I think I should wait in the hall till you call me and tell me where to go.
        James44: Yes. A good idea. You are improving
        James44: DO NOT BE LATE. TEXT ME WHEN YOU ARE IN THE HALL!!!
        PinkParanoia: I will
        James44: Goodbye my slave

I’m in the foyer of the Savoy right on time, dressed to kill, looking and feeling fucking sexy.
        I text him to ask for permission to go up to the bar, but there is no reply.
        I text again: ‘pllllease, may I please come in.’
        When there still is no reply I think he is late so try to call but only get his voice mail.
        And so I – fuck it – go up without his permission.
        I see the only guy who sits on his own and walk up to him although he is about ten years older and twenty kilos heavier than his photograph.
        As per instruction I do not greet him but remain standing without saying anything until he has had the chance to take a good look at me. He gets up and does something to my mouth with his mouth. He smells nice, but I have no clue what his intentions are as his head moves up and down and he fumbles around close to my lips and tongue without actually touching me.
        His instructions were for me to not move until he has kissed me so I’m not sure what to do next. Was this little manoeuvre in the lower half of my face his idea of a kiss?
        It seems so, because he tells me to sit down.
        ‘You were supposed to text me from the foyer,’ he says.
        ‘What?’ I protest, waving my mobile around. ‘I texted twice, how can you not …’
        ‘You’re talking,’ he says.
        Not bad! He has a point. I put the phone in my handbag and shut up.
        He orders a drink for me, which I most likely won’t be able to drink and then says:
        ‘Go to the toilet.’
        ‘Excuse me?’
        ‘No questions. Go to the toilet and bring me back your knickers.’
        I try not to grin, get up and do as I’m told. When I’m back, he takes my knickers without looking at me and puts them into his coat pocket.
        ‘Now, how am I supposed to know that those are really the ones you were wearing and you have nothing on anymore.’
        Because I don’t normally bring an extra pair in my handbag you stupid moron, I want to snap, but I just shrug.
        ‘Show me,’ he says.
        We are in the middle of the Savoy for Christ’s sake. I am not going to lift my skirt in here. But I sink back into my chair, slide down and uncross my legs. I expect him to drop his napkin and pick it up again, thus being able to take a good look between my legs while he leans down. Instead he sinks back into his chair like me and bends his head in a most peculiar way. I wonder if I should tell him about dropping something but he does look funny trying to look up my skirt from where he sits and since I’m only the bloody slave I see no reason to give the man advice on how to be a voyeur. He wriggles a bit more in his chair and sinks down lower and lower, until he needs to hold on to the table and knocks over his glass of red wine.
        I giggle but fortunately he is too busy trying to avoid the wine dripping on his pants to notice my insubordination.
        When he gets another glass he tells me to drink and I have a tiny sip. As suspected it is a Champagne cocktail which is touching because it is the most expensive item on the drinks menu, but champagne is the worst type of alcohol for me and I put it down again quickly.
        ‘When was the last time you were fucked?’ he asks.
        ‘June.’
        ‘When?’
        ‘June?’
        ‘WHEN?’
        ‘JUNE!!!’
        ‘It is supposed to be ‘June, Master’.’
        I hesitate. There is no way in hell I can call the guy that.
        ‘I last got fucked in June.’
        Not much he can do. Feels great.
        ‘And did you enjoy it?’
        ‘No.’
        ‘Why not?’
        ‘I nicknamed the man who fucked me Dogface.’
        ‘I see.’
        He smiles.
        ‘Do you masturbate?’
        ‘Yes.’
        ‘And how often do you masturbate.’
        I feel it’s a good move to give him an exaggerated impression of my sexual appetite, so I say: ‘I masturbate twice a day.’
        ‘That is good.’
        He asks me if there is another man in my life.
        ‘No, but I’m researching methods of how to get free dinners out of the guys on Matchnet.’
        He ponders this for a while.
        ‘Ok,’ he says. ‘You have permission to keep dating other men.’
        ‘Yes, I will keep dating other men.’
        ‘No, you have permission to do so.’
        ‘Yes, I know.’
        I smile at him with my famous ‘and you can fuck off too’ smile, which has driven stronger personalities than him to despair. It throws him and to help him regain some authority in this conversation I ask for permission to eat an olive.
        ‘Yes, you may eat an olive,’ he says. ‘But only if you eat it slowly and think of sucking my big cock while doing it.’
        I take the olive and suck out the little piece of red pepper, which is stuck in there to replace the pit. Then I take a bite. Oil drips over my fingers. I close my eyes and think of the man who one day will be able to really order me around. I know that my face lights up and my lips look hot when I wet them with my tongue and open and close them slowly.
        He seems pleased.
        ‘Very well, you are going to make a good slave.’
        I’m glad he calls me that. It’s a crap word. It does nothing to me.
        ‘So slave, do you prefer one cock or two?’
        ‘One.’
        ‘Ever done female on female?’
        ‘No.’
        ‘Do you want to?’
        ‘Yes.’
        ‘You like being watched?’
        ‘Yes.’
        ‘Good, so do I. We seem to have a lot in common.’
        He finally notices that my drink is untouched.
        ‘Don’t you like your drink?’
        ‘No.’
        He winces but says surprisingly friendly.
        ‘You won’t hear me apologize often, but for this I’m truly sorry.’
        Without a word I take his glass of red wine.
        ‘Do you like red wine?’
        ‘Yes.’
        ‘Good, we’ll have a bottle of red wine next time,’ he takes a sip from my cocktail.
        ‘Do you have a vibrator?’
        ‘No.’
        ‘Then I will buy you one. It will be my present for you and you’re going to use it when I tell you to. I’m also going to buy you some clothes. And we will travel together. I travel a lot. To the Middle East and Asia. You will accompany me and …
        The poor man is obviously deluded. This was supposed to be a game but now he is simply losing it.
        What am I supposed to do to stop him? As the obedient one it is my job to say ‘yes’ no matter what. There is really not much a submissive can do when the dominant turns wacky. Also, I really don’t want to hurt his feelings. After all, he is paying for the drinks.
        Fortunately he sees me grinning and calms down again.
        ‘So slave,’ he goes. ‘What do you do for a living?’
        ‘I chat online and make my boss believe I sell opera singers.’
        He suppresses a smile.
        ‘How long have you had this job?’
        ‘Four years.’
        ‘Have you ever sold a singer?’
        ‘I seem to remember about eight months ago someone inquired for one of my tenors and I hit the reply button by mistake which mysteriously resulted in a contract.’
        ‘But how …’
        ‘I don’t know,’ I shrug. ‘I’m a foreigner and this country runs in mysterious ways.’
        I can see that he is amused.
        ‘I like you,’ he says and repeats: ‘You’re going to make a good slave.’
        You bet you like me you stiff assed Brit! I probably just provided your first laugh in the last twenty years, which you wasted away in a boring, unhappy marriage always hiding your true desires. And now you are out with a gorgeous young woman who just took her panties off for you. Oh, I know you love me.
        ‘You will get fucked and disciplined in good time,’ he says.         ‘I will decide when. But now I must go.’
        He gets the bill and helps me into my coat.
        ‘May I speak?’ I ask.
        ‘You may.’
        ‘Can I have my knickers back?’
        He hands them to me without looking at me.
        ‘May I put them back on?’
        ‘If you must.’
        Back from the toilet we walk out and he finds a dark alleyway, just off the Strand. He pushes me against a door, pulls my arm high up behind my back and pulls my hair so that my head is forced back. I enjoy that but then he does that thing with his mouth again. God, the guy is forty-four, he has been married for years and must have kissed a bit in between. I cannot believe no one ever told him to use his tongue to touch some part, any part of my mouth. He breathes hard and his head moves around a lot and I give up, roll up my tongue and wait till he gets tired.
        He tells me that I must be patient because he is going away on business but when he comes back he will fuck my mouth, my ass and my juicy pussy.
        While we walk down the street towards the train station I am grateful that I am not responsible for this conversation and only allowed to talk when spoken to so don’t feel any obligation to comment and say things like ‘over my dead body.’
        On the train home I receive five texts with details about the things he wants to do to me and I feel my phone getting sticky with all the sperm he is spraying all over me. What is this obsession of men with their bodily fluids? Tons of it get spilled every minute all over the world, why does every man think that the few drops he adds to the daily quota make a difference on how fast the world turns?

The next day he continues his text attack.
        ‘Slave. You will be fucked until you faint, your arms and legs securely tied. Master.’
        ‘Slave. You will lick pussy for me and I will watch you and cane you if you are disobedient. Master. ‘
        Who would have thought that S and M could be so boring?
        In the evening he calls, his voice sounding like a bad imitation of Frankenstein’s Monster with a bad cold.
        ‘Slave, I want you to masturbate for me.’
        I’m in the middle of printing a large document. I’m using an old printer and can only print one page at a time. It is tedious and hard work.
        ‘Ok,’ I say. ‘Call me back.’
        I hang up the phone and continue my printing.
        He calls back thirty minutes later. THIRTY minutes for an orgasm!!! I bet the ex-wife faked it every second of her married life.
        ‘Slave,’ he says in his Monster voice. ‘Did you fantasize about your Master when you just came?’
        Shit! I should have thought about that. What can I say - other than the first thing that comes to mind:
        ‘I thought of the way you kissed me last night.’
        ‘Good. Did you like it?’
        It takes a lot of willpower to keep the giggle out of my voice.
        ‘Yes.’
        ‘Good. Did you lick your fingers when you masturbated just now?’
        ‘No.’
        ‘From now on you will. You need to get used to the taste of pussy. Soon you will be licking it for me.’
        ‘Whatever you say.’
        ‘And now no more masturbating until tomorrow evening.’
        ‘No.’ I hang up the phone and go back to my printing.
        The next text arrives two minutes later.
        ‘Imagine me fucking you now, my large thick cock sliding into your arse. My spunk covering your buttocks! As you gasp for air through your gag. Master’
        How is one to undo a Master? I do feel sorry for the guy. He is so into this, it is almost endearing.
        Then another text arrives:
        ‘Master is having a wonderful wank, thinking of fucking you. You though, must wait. Master.’
        I wait, I wait, I wait. Just leave me alone. When he calls again half an hour later my sympathy for him is at a historic low.
        ‘What are you wearing?’ he gasps.
        My hands are fiddling with my printer. I am fighting paper and ink and want to finish this job. It is time to make a move.
        ‘I’m wearing my father’s old shirt which he bought at our neighbour’s garage sale about twenty years ago, sandals I found in the Charity shop the other day for only 50 pence, the work-out pants I wore while painting the garden bench last week - so they’re a bit stained - curlers, a 100 % organic cucumber facial mask and my brown horn rimmed glasses. I also just put my braces back in.’
        I’m sorry, poor, poor English pervert, but I really need to get on with my work.
        ‘You will be punished for this,’ he mumbles. ‘And you are going to masturbate for me tomorrow evening with me listening on the phone. I will call you and …’
        I have done this before. Not on purpose but since it worked once, I am sure it will work again. They give you a brand new phone, you know, if it stops working within the period of the first warranty. If you wait a few days the water evaporates and they have no way of telling why the phone broke. They just give you another one and a new number as well and from one moment to the next you are freed of all pestering perverts.
        I walk upstairs and while I hear him going on and on about how he is going to shove it and where he is going to spill it, I drop the phone into the toilet with a content smile.
        Bye-bye James, 44! End of submission by submersion!