Monday, February 5, 2007

Spit on Me, Please (A Fantasy)

Brian re-read the e-mail message from Mistress Katrina again to make sure that he had not forgotten anything. It said:

Dear pussyboy:

Go to the bank today before it closes and withdraw $600 in cash. You need to make sure that you get this cash entirely in $5 bills.
After work, go home, shower & shave. Put on red silk bikini panties, light khaki or cream colored pants, and a plain white dress shirt without an undershirt. Be at the corner of Hudson and Christopher Streets with the cash at precisely 9 pm.

Mistress K


When he received the e-mail that afternoon, Brian had had to run to the bank to get there before it closed. But, he got there in time and was able to withdraw the $600 Mistress Katrina had specified. With the help of several tellers he was able to change all the cash into five dollar bills.

Brian had performed the rest of the tasks listed in the e-mail that evening and was walking down Christopher Street to his appointment with a fat stack of 120 $5 bills in his pocket and plenty of time to spare. In fact, he began to wonder if it was too easy. Mistress Katrina normally imposed much more difficult tasks and more stringent dress requirements when they met in public, such as making him walk to their rendezvous on all fours or meeting her in Times Square wearing only a leather harness and collar.

At any rate, Brian was looking forward to seeing his beautiful Mistress again and when he arrived at the corner of Hudson & Christopher he was not disappointed. Mistress Katrina was a vision of perfection. Tonight Mistress wasn't wearing one of her typical, elegant business suits but more festive club-going attire -- a red corset top, a flirty pleated black skirt, and 4" heels in red patent leather. Brian was always amazed how Mistress Katrina was able to ooze sex appeal from every one of her pores, yet never lose at bit of her refinement or sophistication.



Brian greeted his mistress with a kiss on the hand and then promptly offered her the envelope with the $600. She said, "Keep that. You will need it later. In fact, I have something for you." Mistress Katrina handed Brian a small rectangular box and told him not to open it until they reached their destination.

They walked two blocks south on Hudson until they were in front of one of New York's most popular lesbian bars. It was a pleasant Thursday night in early spring and the clubs and bars of Greenwich Village were crowded, and no place more than Henrietta Hudson. The bar attracted a very diverse crowd -- tough biker chicks with leather jackets and tattoos on their arms; slim hipster chicks with dyed hair and tattoos on their shoulder blades; glamorous "lip-stick lesbians" in high heels and Chanel dresses; butch dykes in wife-beater t-shirts; college girls experimenting with their sexuality; and even a few men there with friends or just to gawk.

Mistress Katrina said, "You may open the box now." Inside were what Brian thought were business cards. He pulled one out for closer inspection and, in fact, it was an elegantly embossed off-white business card.

"What a strange gift," he thought. Then Brian looked closer. Instead of his name and address, each of the cards bore the same small embossed message:

Please spit on me.

I will pay $5 for the privilege
of receiving your saliva.


Brian looked at Mistress Katrina, back at the business card, and then at the boisterous crowd of Sapphic women. "How do you want me to do this?," he asked.

"No talking. Just give a card to anyone who interests you and then hand over the money. We will be here until you run out of cards or run out of $5 bills."

To be continued . . .

This fantasy was inspired by a fun pro domme session and a gossip page news item, both from last November.

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