I was an old man once, well up into my eighties, physical and mental decline, the loss of family and friends-the whole nine yards.  Not that you would know it from looking at me now, a shapely woman in her late thirties, fit and healthy but the world is full of women like me (quite literally) so that doesn't set me apart.  And I am a woman, right down to my chromosomes, but I still think like a man, which may help me here. So, I'm about to go into my office and discuss what sets me apart with a reporter and, for the first time in three centuries, I'm uncertain and slightly unnerved.

I don't know how the cunt discovered my secret, but it really doesn't matter, she knows and I have promised to talk to her and tell my story.  I am going to try to do so anonymously, but no one has made me any promises and I may have to uproot and leave my home unless I can get anonymity.  I have to talk to her though, so I need to figure out how I want to handle this and soon, because the bitch is waiting for me.

Confidence is key!  So I rise to my full six feet, square my still broad shoulders, push out my tits and stride into my office and settle proudly behind my desk.  I fix the reporter with a polite, but slightly inquisitive stare but I decline to speak.  She squirms a little in her chair, but looks me in the eye and the game becomes who will break the silence.  This lasts for almost a minute before she looks away, to her notebook, and I smile slightly having won the first battle.

She seems to be trying to figure out how to start, leafing through her notebook, and I use that opportunity to take stock of her.  A turtleneck is an odd choise for September, even if it is sleeveless, and it is then that I see the collar underneath, or rather the ring that whoever owns her uses to attach her leash protruding through the fabric.  I can use this, "nice collar," I say.  Technically, that should be a point for her, but she blushes a deep red and I score again.

Everyone is supposed to be very proud of their sexuality now, no matter the kink, but she is still trying to figure out how to proceed and I start to see how I can turn all of this to my advantage.  She looks  younger than I do, though she is also at least 320 years old, and I am sure that she has always been female.  Despite that fact that, by necessity, everyone alive is "a lesbian" many women are attracted to my obviously male characteristics, and if I can turn this into a sexual matter I will certainly have the upper hand.

"Were you ever with a man?" I ask straight out.  She is now completely put off and stammers looking for an answer.  "No...Ma'am," she finally decides.  "I was too young and then...everyone changed."  I can tell that she's intrigued, so I gesture for her to come to me and she obeys, seemingly entranced.  I gently take her hand and then aggressively pull her to me, wrapping my hand around her hip.  I am still looking her in the eye and she is clearly aroused, her body presses agains mine.

I reach behind her and unzip her dress, because now I can see that her turtleneck is a clever one-piece, and she doesn't resist.  It falls to the floor when I give it a slight tug and she is not wearing anything underneath, she stands naked in front of me except for the collar.  "Whose is this? I ask insistently and her eyes drop.  "It..." she stumbles for words again, "it makes me feel sexy," she says at last and I laugh gently.  "You don't need help there," I say tracing my index finger down from her breasts along her belly stopping just above her bare snatch.  I can see goosebumps on her skin and I know that I can do as I please.

I reach up and grab the ring on her collar and pull her down across my lap, tracing my finger along her spine until I reach her ass.  I give it a good hard smack and whisper in her ear that she is, "a naughty little slut who is going to get what is coming to her." At which point I bring my hand down on her ass with considerably more force.  She squeals and kicks her feet as I continue to spank her delicious ass, but her resistance is all just for show.  WhenI let her off my lap and slide up my skirt she goes straight for my clit.

She has clear talent in this area and to show my appreciation I reach down and finger her.  I have to remain in control, so I want to cum when she does, so that she will be in her own bliss when I climax and she won't see any weakness on my face, but I am losing this contest and she may get me off first.  To even things up I go for the shocker and slide my pinky up her ass-that does the trick and she comes just before I do-another small win.

She smiles at me with a blissful look on her face and doesn't bother getting dressed, but instead rises and walks back to her chair.  But now she seems more intent, and I am starting to wonder whether or not I really won all of those battles.  She retrieves her notebook and picks up her pen.  She licks her lips and looks me straight in the eye before asking me, "so, how is it that you became the world's premier executioner?"