Here's one that I hope won't offend any Dominas since it is about a lady I met who was always in control and dominant, but did provide other services.

In the mid-1990s I answered an ad from New York Magazine's old "Personals" classified section, which is now long gone. The ads were two or three lines and included ladies who provided massage, domination and escort. I called Gina (not her real name). This may offend some here but the lady provided all three services. Gina was maybe 40, Brazilian, with a deep, sexy voice and accent who was very assertive. I called, Gina liked what she heard and I got an appointment.

Gina had a nice two-bedroom apartment on East 51st Street off of 3rd Avenue. She usually had one other woman working with her. She had long blonde hair that usually fell over one shoulder or the other. Gina had that deep sexy accent, was very busty (she always bragged about that and had a lot to brag about), a thick, curvy figure, was about 5 ft. 6 in. or so without heels (I'm 6 ft. 1 in.). And she always wore red lipstick.

Gina approved of the Tarzan roleplay. The first session was Tarzan providing the Amazon Queen with a massage, and some body worship, while he got a hand spanking and she used her sexy accent to talk trash which drove me nuts. In the second session Tarzan was still the Amazon Queen's sub, but he was used for her complete pleasure... with maybe a spanking thrown in to show she was the boss.

After the second session and I was freshening up and getting dressed, Tina walked in with an animal print dress with spaghetti straps in her arm. "For the next session." I said something stupid like, "You'll look great in it." And grinned. We laughed, I thought she was joking, and I left thinking nothing of it.

I called a few weeks later for another appointment. She immediately said, in that sexy voice, "Is Tarzan ready to dress up?" As has often happened to me I let the wrong head do the talking. I stammered, said yes, and late one Saturday morning I nervously entered her apartment.

I was greeted by her young female assistant who was Brazilian but did not speak English. Gina called out to follow her into the bedroom and there was Tarzan's costume: the animal print dress with spaghetti straps; backless high heels that were at least one size too small for me; and a blonde woman's wig. The assistant motioned me to get undressed and helped me get into the dress, which was too tight in some areas and not tight enough in others. We couldn't get the straps on so I had bare shoulders. And then she put Gina's red lipstick on me, very heavy.

I didn't look in the mirror. It couldn't have been a pretty picture: hairy legs, flat chest, heavy lipstick, ridiculous looking hair... and wobbly on the high heels. Then Gina walked in, wearing a black bustier that made it look like her breasts were about to pop out of it, matching backless open-toed high heels, red lipstick and matching nails. The slight aroma of cocoa butter surrounded her.

She ordered me to try and walk around on the high heels, laughed and called Tarzan names in that deep, sexy Brazilian voice. She came close and squeezed my nipples, her curves just brushing against me. Gina breathily whispered in my ear something like, "TARZAN is a fucking SLUT!" bent me over and I thought she was going to take me from behind. (I was a virgin.)

Strangely Gina then went to bed, removed her high heels and her breasts popped out of her bustier. She growled, "SLUT! Come here! I want your lipstick on my big NIPPLES!" I hungrily struggled to crawl from the foot of the bed to Gina, whose legs were now wide open. I made sure my lips filled with red lipstick correctly surrounded each nipple.

Gina checked and with me kneeling in bed in front of her she grabbed my wig and threw it one way, grabbed the skirt, took it off over my head and threw it the other way, and aggressively grabbed my manhood and purred, "Tarzan, take care of your Jungle Queen."

After it was all over Gina's chest and face were covered with red lipstick, as was mine. She dragged me to shower and got in with me to scrub the evidence off of me. Dazed, confused and delighted I blurted out, "Why... what happened?"

Gina grinned and cooed in that sultry voice, "You no crossdresser... And I couldn't waste your big, hot cock." We both laughed and hugged.

I only saw her a couple more times after that. Went home to Brazil to see family and she did come back, but we lost touch. Hell of a woman.