Mistress Dolores of Barcelona

"Mistress Dolores, I'm coming home," Steve Sutton said to himself as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. The big and tall, ruggedly handsome and dark-skinned young man smiled with satisfaction. Decked out in a blue silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland boots, Steve looked good and he knew it. He simply hoped that the lady he was going to meet liked what she saw...

A few months ago, Steve, whose interest in the BDSM lifestyle was increasing, surprised himself by attending a meet and greet lunch in the By Ward Market area of Ottawa, Ontario. He heard about the luncheon on Fetlife, and supposedly, some of the heavy hitters of the Ottawa BDSM scene were going to be there. Steve showed up, excited and nervous, and ended up meeting a woman he couldn't forget.

Mistress Dolores was one of the attendees at the By Ward Market munch, and she definitely took Steve's breath away. A statuesque five-foot-eleven, curvy and sexy, with light brown skin and thick dark hair styled into a puffy Afro, Mistress Dolores had an unmistakable presence. The lady looked fantastic in a black leather overcoat over a black tank top, black leather pants that did wonders to show her thick ass and thighs, and knee-high black leather boots.

"This lady means business," Steve thought to himself as he gazed at Mistress Dolores, who sat a table with three other women and about seven men. Most of the other people at the table were in their forties and up, and white, of course. Mistress Dolores was the only person of color on the premises, other than Steve, of course. Fortunately, the brother was ready for the challenge...

"What have we here?" Mistress Dolores intoned, looking at Steve as he approached her table, and he returned her smile. His eyes met hers, and he saw curiosity and something else in those almost luminescent brown orbs. According to Mistress Dolores profile, she was born and raised in the City of Barcelona, Spain, to a Spanish father and a Nigerian immigrant mother. She had that unique beauty common to mixed-bloods, and seemed all the more exotic to Steve...

"Good evening ma'am, I'm Steve, or SK-1170 if you prefer," Steve said, and Mistress Dolores looked him up and down, a flicker of interest in her eyes. Steve knew how he looked. He was born in the City of Kingston, Ontario, to Jamaican immigrant parents. When he told people that he was of Jamaican descent, they often remarked on his lack of any discernible accent. As if Jamaicans only came in one flavor...

"Always be more than you seem," that was a code that Steve Sutton lived by. When most people met his parents, Luther and Celina Sutton, proud Jamaican-Canadians and owners of two Afro-Caribbean restaurants in the Kingston, Ontario, area, they didn't know what to make of them. The idea that an immigrant family from the Caribbean should be happy, successful, and well put together seemed threatening to most Canadians.

Growing up in lily-white Kingston taught Steve Sutton to be strong, cautious and analytical, since the locals didn't know what to make of him. The City of Kingston, Ontario, isn't like Toronto or Ottawa or Montreal. The locals aren't used to seeing non-whites. The number of Africans, Latinos, Arabs and Asians in Kingston has always been extremely low. As a result, people of color are treated like the proverbial other in Kingston and the locals don't shy away from expressing their dislike of those who don't look like them.

Steve Sutton approached Mistress Dolores table with the casual confidence of a young black man who's been fighting racist white guys ever since he could remember. When the white males at the table looked at him, Steve returned their gaze. He'd been dealing with their kind in his hometown of Kingston for a very long time. There was little they could do or say to him that hadn't been tried before...

"Please, join us, I'm Mistress Dolores," the lovely woman said with a smile, and Steve nodded. The other men at the table, middle-aged Caucasians one and all, assessed Steve in the manner he'd come to expect from their ilk. A six-foot-three, dark-skinned man with a rather burly appearance always catches the white person's gaze. It's almost as if they can't help but be fascinated, or at times repulsed, by their polar opposite...

As the evening rolled on, Steve and Mistress Dolores talked almost exclusively with one another, much to the annoyance of the other men at the table, who had to contend with their 'less exotic' lady friends. Steve, a long-time believer in the art of conversation, was delighted to get to know Mistress Dolores better. Dominant BDSM Bossy Lady or not, a man's got to address a lady properly and maintain her interest if he wants a chance with her...

"Hmm, thank you for coming to the meet and greet tonight, Steve, those affairs are usually so boring, we need some new blood around here," Mistress Dolores said to him, as the evening came to a close. The bar in which they'd been sitting and dining was about to close, and all the other guests were gone, including the old white dudes who clung to Mistress Dolores like moths chasing the flame. They had the place virtually to themselves...

"Thank you for making it worthwhile, Mistress Dolores, we should keep in touch," Steve replied with a sly smile, and she grinned and nodded. He got up from his chair and then chivalrously held his hand out to her. Mistress Dolores smiled, took the hand that Steve offered and got up. They exited the bar after thanking the staff for their patience and courteousness then went for a walk around the dark and at times dangerous but never boring By Ward Market area. It was a night to remember...

"Hmm, Steve, I know what I like and I usually go for it," Mistress Dolores said to Steve as they walked around the By Ward Market. Anyone looking at them saw a well-dressed young black couple out and about. The City of Ottawa was slowly becoming more diverse, so the local white Canadians were slightly less likely to gawk upon people of color going about their day. Progress is a slow process but it can definitely happen...

"I like that," Steve replied, and he grinned as Mistress Dolores playfully smacked his butt. Steve pulled her into his arms and looked into her eyes. Mistress Dolores blinked, bit her full lips and then kissed him. Steve kissed her back, and thus they shared their first kiss, under the city lights, one warm evening in mid-July. Passersby looked at them and Steve and Mistress Dolores were so into each other that they ignored them. Some moments are that intense...

Long before Mistress Dolores taught Steve about the pleasures and pains of the world of BDSM, and the special relationship between a mistress and her sub, the beauty of female dominance and the wonders of male submission, he knew that he wanted her. The way a man wants a woman. What Steve wants, he usually goes after and ends up getting. That's how his relationship with Mistress Dolores truly began...

"Welcome home," Mistress Dolores said to Steve, greeting him at the door of her mansion in The Glebe area of downtown Ottawa. Steve looked at Mistress Dolores, who looked ravishing in a bright red negligee that hugged her womanly curves in fetching ways, and smiled. Steve drew closer to her for a kiss, but Mistress Dolores instead grabbed him and pulled him inside. He saw the need in her golden brown eyes. She wanted him, right now...

"I am home, gorgeous," Steve replied as he lifted Mistress Dolores into his arms and laid her on a nearby teak table. She caressed his face as he unzipped his pants. Out came his member, long and thick, dark and hard. Mistress Dolores stroked Steve's manhood even as he caressed her breasts, and began sucking on them. Mistress Dolores moaned softly and urged him to take her, which he gladly did.

"Harder," Mistress Dolores demanded as Steve thrust into her, and she wrapped her thick legs around him. She welcomed the delicious pain and wicked pleasure she felt inside as Steve's hard dick filled her womanhood. They were so lost in each other that they didn't notice that they'd left the front door open till much, much later. The neighbors and passersby had more than an earful of their lovemaking. They didn't care, for they were very much lost in a world of their own...