The night we met was crisp and chilly, brightly lit by the stars, moon, and our computers' screens. I began the night a bit bored, and the flickering blue light of cyberspace spilling into my bedroom reminded me that I was also lonely.
I found myself perusing a romance chat room, and became quickly bored with all the desperate requests for my age, sex, location, and bra size. I gave up on chat, and decided to look for a fresh fantasy in someone else's stories. After panting through a few bondage stories, I decided to try the chat room hosted at my favorite story site.
Of all the lurid, groping messages, one appealed to me, a gentle hello, and request for a private conversation. Despite my submissive nature, I still appreciate a gentleman. For the rest of the evening, I enjoyed a warm chat with me new gentleman friend. He not only eased my loneliness, but also kindled new fantasies in my secret imagination. He was closer than either of us initially realized, (less than twenty miles) which made fantasizing with him deliciously dangerous and promising. We promised to talk again soon, and went to our separate beds to satisfy ourselves into intoxicating dreams of an illicit meeting.
We continued to meet in that chat room occasionally over the next few weeks. Our chats rarely dwelled on our fantasy affair, but always touched on that forbidden meeting.
As tentative plans for our first meeting began to take shape, I realized that I needed to share with him my most carefully guarded fantasy. Before revealing my potentially shocking desire, I asked him to share his wildest fantasy with me. He considered for only a moment before answering that he ached to tie a woman up, and tease her mercilessly until she begged him to pleasure her totally.
As I watched his words appear on my screen, I felt my pulse race, my mouth open hungrily, and my pussy begin to ache with need. My hands, possessed by lust, slid over my breasts, caressing my already stiff nipples.
My fingers raced over the keyboard as I spilled my forbidden, erotic need out to him. A clear image of my eagerly bound body spread before my gentle Master flowed onto the screen as my lust began to flow from my hungry pussy. I carefully unfolded my hopeful story before him, intensifying his fantasy, expanding his secret want into a delightfully kinky promise. I explained some of the private culture of Masters and submissives. Although still untrained, I read a lot, and spend hours in bondage chat rooms, absorbing the rules and expectations of a well-trained submissive girl.
As we prepared to sleep, plans to meet now definite, he gave his first command. "Consider yourself collared... at least here." My pulse thundered in my ears and my excitement quietly dripped onto the seat of my chair. We agreed that before I could actually allow him to put a collar on me, we needed to meet, to be sure.
The next morning found me at the pet department of a large store. My knees threatened to collapse under me, and the scent of my arousal tickled my nose as I carefully selected a black leather collar for my imaginary pet. Each day leading to our rendezvous was delightful torture. When my nerves began to try discouraging me from taking this risk, I took out the collar I'd bought for my would-be Master. The thickness of it, the smell of the leather, the creak as I worried it in my trembling hands eased my fear, and stirred my lust.
I slept fitfully the night before our tryst. Excitement and fear forbidding sleep. My voice sounded hoarse in the morning from my panting, whimpering, and moaning through my dreams. I sounded quite convincing when I told my boss over the telephone how terrible I felt. My body screamed in nervousness and anticipation as he told me he hoped I felt better soon. My mind sang, "I know I will!" I worked on preparing my body for him all day. I fought the urge to satisfy myself as I shaved my legs, underarms, and pouty, tingling nether lips. I made soft finger curls in the triangle of dark blonde hair adorning my feminine mound. I carefully patted my smooth lips dry, and admired my delicate sex in a hand mirror before wrapping my robe around my already aroused body. I set my shoulder length hair in fat hair rollers, and set all the tools I needed on my bed to finish conditioning my body for him. With a steaming cup of tea on my nightstand I began filing, smoothing and polishing my toenails and long fingernails. I sipped my tea gingerly while I waited for my nails to dry. My eyes wandered to the collar I hoped my lover would buckle around my neck, teasing myself with fantasies of being possessed. Finally I began to dress for him. Shivers ran through my body as I slid shimmering silver silk stockings onto my legs, smoothing them over my thighs, and clipping them carefully to my garters. I examined my silk sheathed legs in a full-length mirror, making sure me seams were straight. I stepped carefully into black lace panties, and settled my already quivering breasts into my matching black lace bra. As I reached behind my back to fasten my bra I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and posed seductively, practicing for my new Master. I pulled my skirt over my thighs and hips, zipping myself into it with cold, trembling fingers. I stepped into black velvet pumps, and took my jacket into the bathroom. My fingers nimbly released the curlers from my hair. I loosened the curls by running my fingers through the waves of coppery silk. I piled my hair loosely atop my head, exposing my creamy neck. I lightly applied mascara and russet lipstick, and spritzed my favorite perfume into my cleavage and hair, then on the insides of both forearms. I removed my watch and bracelet, and the fine silver chain I usually wear around my neck. At last I eased my jacket on, and buttoned it closed over my nearly naked torso. I stepped back to examine myself in the mirror one last time. My most professional suit worn over almost nothing, demurely upswept hair, nearly natural makeup, and elegant, sexy pumps perfectly fit the sophisticated siren look I'd hoped to achieve. I tucked the leather collar into my black clutch purse, and left a message on my best friend's answering machine, leaving the hotel's phone number just in case.
I forced a deep, calming breath into my lungs as I climbed out of my car at the hotel. All I really knew about his appearance was that he was a lot older than I was, and he would be wearing a wedding ring.
He recognized me from the photograph I'd emailed to him, and approached with confidence the moment the door closed behind me. He said that he had our overnight bag, and kissed my cheek with startling familiarity. The desk clerk seemed a bit surprised that this gentleman's wife looked so young, but said only, "I hope you rest well Mr. and Mrs. Davison." I was stunned by the thoroughness of his preparations, including the last name he'd chosen for us. I smiled pleasantly, and slipped my arm around my lover's offered arm. >From the corner of my eye, I could see him trying to subtly appraise me. We stepped onto the elevator, and as the door closed I smoothed my lover's tie in the most wifely way I could manage.
In the privacy of the elevator, he indulged his eyes, taking in my appearance. I struggled to appear calm as I felt his gaze move from my feet to my neck, pausing slightly at shapely calf, thigh, and hidden treasure. His eyes lingered on the V of my jacket collar, straining to glimpse the small rose tattoo adorning my cleavage. By the time his eyes met mine I could feel myself shivering, my whole body aching for his approval, my heart thundering in my chest, my pulse echoing in my ears. He smiled his appreciation of my dress and body. My heart fluttered with relief and satisfaction. As the elevator doors opened, I realized that he hadn't touched me since we left the lobby, and I squirmed a little in anticipation. With his hand on the small of my back, he guided me to the room where we would spend the next several hours.
.... There is more of this story ...