Could I be her slave? She was gorgeous - way out of my league and more stunning than anything I'd seen online. Did I want to be her slave? My tiny ere...ction answered that for me. I stared at the glass for a while, deliberating. After a while, and a finally soft cock, I had decided. I'd do it. I had nothing left to lose and I'd dreamed about being owned for years. As I looked at the glass and back to my excuse for a cock, there was no way I could fill it halfway. I grabbed my cock in my right. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” She looked up and met his eyes, then shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t really know.” She inhaled deeply and swallowed the remains of her coffee. “We always said that with the right person, it could happen.” He nodded slowly, still stroking his chin. “And you think she might be the right person?” Again Carrie shrugged, then leaned back and studied his face. His expression was solemn, but she could see the familiar twinkle in his eye that told her he was. A 5 minute cab ride later and it was 11pm. I was knocking on this stranger's door. She opens and I saw a woman wearing a robe. This woman was far from attractive. She had mousey brown hair, glasses and one of those faces that looked like she has a real difficult time cracking a smile. She was a fat woman, about 275lbs. She had what looked to be 42DD tits. We walked into her living room. the placed smelled of a chain smoker. She had crap for furniture. A couch with no legs, an old futon. "Now we get you a new bathing suit," Francesca announced as we crossed the cobbled street. Hyde Park was so cool, so lively. I was almost giddy."I've got one." That's for the swim team, kiddo," she teased, playfully butting me with her shoulder as she swung the door to a very upscale clothing store."But..." That dress would look terrific on you," she interrupted, stopping to point out a spaghetti strapped sundress, yellow with a soft spray of white polka-dots."No, I..." Would look good on me.