This is a story of the introduction of a young woman to bondage and D/s, and is collaboration by two writers, Clystra49 and Master of Discretion. Each chapter begins with the man describing what has transpired, and is then followed by the woman's emotional response (in italics).
You lock your car door you gaze over at the hotel and feel more than a little intimidated. Still, the same feelings that brought you to this point provide you the requisite resolve to walk toward it. As you enter the lobby you immediately scan your eyes and, reassured that there are not many people, make your way to the couch in the far left corner as instructed, while being careful to not make eye contact with the people behind the reception desk. Once again you look around you, then sit and wrestle with the overly short dress you're wearing as it slides up and threatens to expose the lace top of your stockings.
You're a few minutes early and you attempt to compose yourself when, suddenly, you hear a voice from behind you. "Hello there." The greeting is friendly and immediately puts you at ease as I take a seat in the armchair opposite you and continue with small talk, calming you somewhat, until I ask if you've dressed according to my instructions.
"Umm, yes..." You find it difficult to answer without gazing around the lobby, and your voice is quiet.
"No pantyhose, then?" My eyes slowly scan down your body and stop at your knees, making it eminently clear what I intend for you to do. Your hands slide to the sides of your thighs as you eke out an almost imperceptible, "No, Sir."
"Look only at me." My voice, while calm and friendly, is clearly more than just a suggestion.
Biting your lower lip you slowly slide your dress up, up to the top of your stockings, just enough to expose the lacy tops.
"A little more." I smile at you. "An inch or so of thigh will do."
Although painfully aware of that you are fighting the urge to look around, you find yourself immediately in compliance. I stand up, then reach my arm out to you.
"Very good." I smile as I speak, and you eagerly rise to your feet, enabling your dress to fall back down. We walk toward the elevator and I press the button to call for it. The doors open immediately. We're instantly inside and, as the doors close, I turn and look at you.
"Tell me," I begin. "What type of panties do you have on?"
I must be out of my mind! What am I doing here? I hadn't been this nervous since my wedding day 10 months ago, as I walked down the aisle to meet the man I thought would fulfill all my needs. As I enter the lobby of the hotel, it's all I can do to stop myself from turning around, fleeing back to... to what? That's the question, isn't it? In such a short time, my life had become so routine, so predictable. Something vital was missing in my life, something I knew I needed but couldn't begin to express. So I'm here, yet I have no what I'm really looking for.
Oh, it was exciting, very exciting, flirting with a strange man on the net. I never expected it to lead to this, to actually be meeting him. It started innocently enough, a conversation or two, each giving brief outlines of their respective lives, their spouses. I began to feel comfortable chatting with him, safe. As we began to delve deeper, we found that in a great many ways neither of us was being fulfilled in the way we had hoped. We began to describe to each other our ideal partner... I told him my ideal man would be someone with whom I could discuss my darkest fantasies without fear of condemnation, a man who would have the desire and the ability to dominate me sexually. He began to question me closely, patiently overcoming my ingrained reticence when it came to the topic of sex. What kinds of sex had I engaged in? What felt good? Where did I like to be touched? Did I masturbate? How? Did I have fantasies of being controlled, of bondage? Did any of my fantasies include rape? Had I ever considered sex with more than one partner? Had I ever considered sex with another woman?
As I haltingly answered these and other questions, I could tell that my responses struck a chord deep within him. I began to realize that I was becoming aroused. Without thinking, I told him so. As soon as the words appeared on the screen, I regretted it. There was a long pause; I began to think he had disappeared. "Are you still there?" I typed. His response made me tremble. "I think we should meet," he said. He explained that he thought I could be what he needed in a woman, someone willing to be challenged and to explore, a submissive woman seeking a man willing to dominate and control. My answer was simple..."I think you're right".
And so I am here, walking across the lobby of this hotel, as nervous as a cat. Your instructions were explicit, leaving no room for deviation on my part. I was to dress carefully in a certain way, I was to arrive at the hotel at a certain time, cross the lobby to the far corner, and sit patiently until you arrive. The waiting was the most difficult part... I felt so exposed, sitting there alone, praying no one would recognize me, especially dressed this way. My dress kept riding up, threatening to expose the lace tops of my thigh-high stockings. I felt almost naked, and tugged at my hem uncomfortably. I'd arrived a few minutes early, hoping to be able to spot you before you realized I was here, perhaps give myself a chance to escape unnoticed if you seemed too threatening. My breath catches in my throat as I hear you speak from behind me. My heart begins to race as you take a seat across from me, and begin to speak. I can barely hear your words over the pounding in my ears, and try desperately to focus my attention, my anxiety increasing, my eyes rapidly scanning the large room. As you speak softly, my pulse begins to calm, at least until you ask if I've followed your instructions. I indicate that yes, I have, I am not wearing pantyhose. Your eyes travel downwards, stopping at my knees; you want proof. Oh please, don't make me do this! I can feel myself redden, my eyes imploring you not to make me do this, not here, please. I slide the hem of my dress up slowly, perhaps an inch, to show you the lace at the top of the stockings. Silently I beg you to let me stop here. Relentlessly, you instruct me to raise the hem higher still. I desperately want you to approve of me, to accept me; against my will and with great embarrassment, I do as I have been told. You nod, and begin to stand. Quickly, I lower the hem until as much of me as possible is covered again. With a trembling sigh, I rise to stand before you. Your hand on my arm, you guide me toward the elevator.
My knees are weak, my legs trembling as the door to the elevator closes and you press the button to take us upwards. "Tell me," you say, "What type of panties are you wearing?" In an instant I'm aware that my panties are damp, and realize that even though I'm overwhelmed by embarrassment, what has just transpired between us in a very public lobby of this busy hotel has excited me far beyond anything I can recall. My cheeks flushing a bright pink, I respond softly "I'm wearing the ones you told me to buy, Sir." "Describe them for me" you say. "They are white, Sir, trimmed in delicate lace, cut high on the thigh, riding just under my hip, with a matching bra with the clasp in the front as you desired". You smile slightly, nod, and say "Very good". The elevator stops, the door opens. You turn to me, extend your arm in my direction; I take your hand.
And the dance begins.
"I'm wearing the ones you told me to buy, Sir." "Describe them for me" you say. "They are white, Sir, trimmed in delicate lace, cut high on the thigh, riding just under my hip, with a matching bra with the clasp in the front as you desired." You smile slightly, nod, and say "Very good." The elevator stops, the door opens...
We walk together along what seems to be an endless corridor past closed doors, an alcove containing vending and an ice machine, a smile and hello to the maid with her cart, all the way to the room at the end. With the swish of a card the door opens and you're eased inside. The curtains are open and the view of the city below draws you toward the window. I stand behind you, my hands gently touch the tops of your arms. "Stand up straight," I speak softly into your right ear, "and keep perfectly still." You feel my face on the right side of yours, my breath at the nape of your neck. "You can do that, can't you?"
"Yes... yes, Sir." Your voice contains an intoxicating mixture of trepidation and anticipation. Your hands tremble slightly at your sides. I slide my hands down your arms until your hands are in mine, then gather the sides of your dress with them before squeezing your fingers together to hold them in place. Your hem is now an inch above your stocking tops, held firmly on each side by your hands. You feel my touch below your left ear as I trace my index finger down, along the underneath of your chin, up to the edge of your mouth, to the side of your left eye, behind your ear and down the back of your neck.
"Good," I say with an enthusiastic approval. "I'm pleased you're able to follow a simple command and keep still." You feel my hands at the zipper of the back of your dress. "Do make sure you continue to do so."
.... There is more of this story ...