Mature Divorcee, Seeks New Pet

"Take off your glasses, honey," she said, crossing her legs and sitting back, "I want to see that pretty face of yours."
I closed my eyes and sighed. Somehow, what she was asking seemed like the hardest step of all. After all that she'd had me do so far... the outfit she'd requested I wear, sending me those ludicrously slutty platform heels that she seemed so taken with. How she'd stripped me down to my bra and pantyhose before she'd even said hello, how she'd made me kneel down on the floor before her like a supplicant... all of that seemed like nothing compared to taking off my glasses. What a strange point to fight her on, what a peculiarly innocent act in comparison to everything else.
And yet, reaching up and sliding off my glasses felt like a final submission, a relinquishing of what little agency I had remaining. It felt symbolic, it felt like a point of no return that I knew I must take but had no idea how to.
Somehow, though, reaching deep inside myself for an inner strength that I didn't know I possessed, I lifted my trembling hand and slid the glasses off my nose and set them to the side. I closed my eyes and tried to focus my frantic mind, tried to find a point of calm amid the maelstrom of my thoughts. Then I lifted my head and blinked, vision blurred but more than capable of taking in the full majesty of that which lay before me.
"Well, aren't you a little angel," she purred provocatively, narrowing her eyes as she studied me. "Sit up, back straight," she added, "hands flat on your thighs. There's a good girl."
I sighed and fixed my posture, feeling a ripple of confusing satisfaction surge through my body at the use of that phrase.
"Sorry, Miss," I said. My heart was hammering away, I felt dizzy and warm, unable to keep up with events, shocked by the position I'd found myself in.
"That's quite alright, girl," said the older woman, shifting in her seat. Her thighs brushed together, nylon caressing nylon as she crossed her legs the other way. The sound thrilled me in ways that I couldn't explain.
"Miss, my name is..." I started to say, an innocent urge to correct her lack of knowledge.
The woman lifted her hand and glared at me with a sudden and intense expression of annoyance. "I don't want to know your name," she snapped, making me rock back on my heels. "While you're here, while you're in my house, you are simply 'girl'."
"Y-yes, Miss," I said, lowering my head, feeling annoyed at myself.
"Let's get one thing straight," she continued, leaning forward and touching her hand to my chin, lifting my head so that our eyes made contact. I stared straight ahead, trying not to cry, feeling myself drown in those deep dark pools. "You're here for one thing and one thing only. I don't want to know your name, I don't want to know about your secret crush. I don't want to know your major or what you want to be when you grow up. You're a toy. You're a tongue and a pussy. In terms of status, you rank at the same level as the fat, black dildo in the drawer beside my bed. Lower, in fact... unless you have a cock as well as that pretty little pussy I can see glistening away beneath your nylons."
"Yes, Miss, sorry, Miss," I said quietly. I'd never been talked to like that before. I'd never felt so insignificant and worthless. Just a plaything for her personal pleasure. With no surprise at all, I felt a fire light between my legs, a pulsing warmth that was impossible to ignore.
The woman released my chin and sat back. For the longest time, she peered down at me, tapping her raised foot up and down before her, slipping her high-heeled pump off her foot and letting it dangle there between us. The tension was unbearable, my fear so great it was paralyzing. The way she was looking at me, her casual disregard for me as a person... it was intoxicating.
"Tell me why you're here?" she said finally, breaking the silence, dispelling the tension with her almost conversational tone.
"Miss? I--" I started, confused by the question and the shifting mood.
"Speak, girl, I won't bite. Why are you here?"
"Miss," I said, lifting my head to look her straight in the eye. Her raven-dark hair seemed to shimmer around her head in a perplexing mass of ebony curls. Her lips were full and parted, painted deep violet. I wanted her to kiss me so badly. I took a breath and forced myself to speak again. "Miss, I saw your ad on the, uh, internet."
It was true. This strangest of hookups had come about because of a drunken whim. Another night of disappointment, of disillusioned disgust at the awful boy I'd been dating, and a moment of peculiar inspiration, a wild flight of fancy. Her ad had been simple, but compelling.
"Mature divorcee seeks new pet."
As soon as I read it, I knew that I had to reply. It was like a door opening in my mind, a stuffed closet full of old and repressed urges, opened suddenly to spill out its contents onto the floor of my consciousness. "I'll be your pet," I'd replied eventually, typing and deleting a hundred variations before finally settling on one that was as simple as her request.
"I know how you came to be here, girl," she replied quickly, giving me no time to think, the irritation seeming to return to her tone. "I want to know why you're here."
"I, uh," I said. "I guess I want to be your pet."
She frowned and leaned her head to the side, her eyes drifting away from me and over to the front door of her house. "Maybe you're not what I'm looking for?"
Her words shocked me and appalled me in equal measure. "Miss! I am, I'm sorry, what can I do? What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to say why you're here. I want you to be open with me, to tell me what you're thinking, what you want. Don't just give me some dumb bimbo porno answer. Tell me WHY."
I closed my eyes and fought against the rising tide of panic that was surging through my body. I hadn't realized how much I'd wanted this, how invested I was in this strange, unconventional opportunity. As I got control of my thoughts, I took a deep breath and felt a sudden calm settle over me. I closed my eyes and straightened my back. And then, without a second thought, I began to speak.
"Miss, I am here to serve you. I am here to be your pet, your slave, whatever you want me to be. I want you to own my body and my mind. I want to be your toy and your plaything. I want to be your good girl." The words fell out of me in a torrent, nineteen years of needs and urges, previously unrecognized, but now bubbling to the surface my mind's ocean. "Miss, I want to worship you and pleasure you. I want to suck your toes, I want to kiss your legs. I want my tongue to be your tool that you can use as you see fit. Miss, there is nothing that I won't do for you, there are no lengths I won't go to. If you want to hurt me, then hurt me. If you want to tie me up, then tie me up. All of me is yours and you may do with it as you see fit. I want to be mindless for you, I want to be your mannequin, if you so desire it. If you want me to fuck other girls, other women, then I will. Men, even, if you wish me to."
I paused and took a breath, feeling the pulsing warmth between my legs rising to an impossible level of heat that I couldn't ignore. I couldn't believe what I was saying, the words I was speaking and the sentiments I was expressing to a woman I'd never met an hour before, a woman who was old enough to be my mother. But it felt so right, it felt so true. It felt like the girl I'd always wanted to be was finally expressing herself.
"Miss, I can only offer you obedience in return," I said, lifting my head and opening my eyes. "If you'll have me."
The woman gazed down at me, her expression a strange mix of excitement and surprise. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted, features heavy with obvious desire. For the first time, a thought struck me, a curious notion but one that I knew instinctively to be true. "This is as new to her as it is to me," I realized.
The woman blinked and cleared her throat. "Good," she nodded slowly. Then she sat back in her chair and slid her bottom forward, causing her tight skirt to gather around her thighs. I sighed as I watched her move, knowing what was coming, fearing and desiring it in equal breaths.
As I looked on, she parted her legs, revealing the tops of her tan stockings and the delicate, feminine straps of her garter belt, the pale and creamy flesh of her upper thighs, the pink line of her sex, glistening with beads of moisture in the warm light of late afternoon. For a fraction of a second, her expression changed. A moment of self-doubt, an instant of wonder and bewilderment, the mirror of my own, but then it was gone, a break in the clouds of a heavy storm that was soon filled. The fiery presence returned and peered at me with a look that scared and thrilled me.
With a slow sigh, she moved her hand down to her sex and parted her slick lips with her index and middle fingers, revealing the hooded bulge of her throbbing clitoris.
It was the first time I'd seen a woman like that, the first time I'd been so close to that which I'd desired for so long. I could smell the scent of her sex, a glorious and intoxicating aroma that made me hungry and feverish and desperate for more. Between my legs, my own pussy was a fireball of aching need.
"Well then, girl," she purred, licking her lips and touching her breast through her blouse with her other hand. "Why don't you show me just how much of a good pet you can be?"
I took a breath and gazed at my glasses on the floor beside me. Somehow, they felt like an avatar of the old me, the me that had ceased to exist in an eye-blink of submission. I turned away from the discarded eye-wear, I wouldn't be needing them anymore. This strange, older woman would be my eyes now, and she'd show me wonders such as I'd never dreamed possible.
With a sigh, I fell forwards onto all fours and crawled towards her.
"Yes, Miss," I said with a sigh and began my life as "girl", the adoring pet of a goddess.


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