There are a handful of times in one’s life when the unequivocal answer should always be an emphatic yes:

1) When offered a pile of cash, no strings attached
2) When asked to help an elderly man or woman cross the street
3) When your long-time friend, who happens to be a dominatrix, invites you to a dinner prepared and served by her submissive slave.

While most of my friends are bighearted, their generosity usually stops short of handing over wads of greenbacks, and despite several years as a Girl Scout, I’ve never had to come to aid of anyone who would benefit from a stabilizing forearm. Thankfully, Mistress Mame (not her real/dom name), an old friend from a previous life, invited me to her home to enjoy the culinary skills of her sub slave. And though my placid facial expressions and my proper demeanor never betrayed me, I was fucking blown away.

Mistress Mame, though a smallish woman with a nice rack and a sweet ass, is a powerful force and her presence commands attention; I guess that’s a prerequisite of the job. Like most young professionals in New York, she lives in a nice sized, two-bedroom walk up with a roommate. The décor is quirky, a combination of vintage finds and West Elm chic. On this particular night, the large, white floor tiles were especially immaculate, and Mame requested that I leave my ballet flats at the door.

Then she announced that slave had a present for me. “Slave,” she commanded, “please present Angela with her gift.” Still unbuckling my shoes, I looked up to see a pleasant looking, older man holding a glass of rose. He also happened to be on his knees. Wearing lace boy short panties. And a fuchsia garter belt. And fishnet stockings. And a black leather collar with a metal ring. And that’s it.

“Super nice to meet you, slave!” I took the glass from his hand, took a generous sip, and then Mame told him to get back to preparing our dinner. I took a seat at the table where I’d have an eyeful of slave working on our dinner salad. His butt jiggled a little when he chopped the cilantro. Mame sat down, adjacent to me, and fiddled with a small remote. “It controls a vibrator inserted in his ass,” she said. Sure enough, each time she pressed the little black button, a red light lit up on a device tucked into slave’s garter and his ass cheeks clenched.

to be continued….