"What would we have done without the internet?"
How many people have asked that question? How many lovers have asked it, wrapped in each other's arms? And how many, like us, have had desires that the vanilla world condemns and yet have found their release, their soul-mate through the net?
So here you are, standing in front of me; still clothed from the outside, looking up at me....nervous, excited, aroused, scared. Only inches remain between us, a slight gap filled with conversations where we have replayed this meeting so often. We have repeatedly confessed hearts thick with anticipation, hungered for the first touch, the consummation of our hopes.
"So," I smile "here we are."
It's impossible not to say something ordinary, but the moment is too rich with significance for that to matter.
You nod agreement, and swallow. You are silent with letting go, finally here with the man who reads your heart and fires your mind. You want, need, crave to be acceptable, and you flood to over flowing with your slave hunger.
I reach out and cup your cheek, captured by the soft warmth of you, the reality of you. Without thinking, your face leans into my hold, your eyes glistening with tears.
What was it you said? "I've spent so much of my life believing that I'm not meant to be happy."
And now, finally, happiness is touching you, and you believe it.
Tears of sadness for the past, happiness for the future, and relief for the present glisten on your eyelashes. I lean down to you and kiss the tears away, tasting your salt, drinking in your scent.
I've heard the whimper you give so often on the phone, but to hear it so clear and close transforms it, and this time I can respond the way I have longed to do so often. I gather you in my arms and press you to me...my lips driving onto yours, my tongue urgent with possession. We have bridged the gap of nervous anticipation, and at last we can let ourselves live the dream.
Even through your coat I can feel your soft curves, your eager flesh as it moulds to me. Fire ignites fire as we kiss, our bodies swelling and opening in desire. All the words we have spoken, the hopes we have shared come to life in us now. It would be so very easy just to fuck, here in the living room, just lose ourselves in the basic act. But there will be so much more time for that. You are here for the weekend, for more than forty-eight hours of private pleasure.
Still....I feel a traitor to myself, pulling back and looking down at you.
"Not yet my little princess. First, you must get changed and prepare yourself.
You look up at me, lost and sad, wanting, but knowing that you cannot refuse me. You bite your bottom lip, suppressing a pout, and pick up your bag.
"Through that door into the bedroom. Don't be long."
As your head to the room where you will shed your vanilla skin, I can't resist spanking your arse just the once. I feel its contours, its textures, and I feel my answering arousal.
You look back, smile once, and step into the next room, quietly shutting the door behind you.
As I wait, pacing the flat like a tiger scenting fresh meat at the water hole, you stand and breath deeply, calming yourself. The spank had jolted you, reminding you of the real reason you are here....to be my submissive slave.
The room is small.... space enough for a double bed, a wardrobe and some boxes. The wardrobe grabs your attention. On the front it is hung with floggers, paddles, a cane and crops. On the side there are collars, handcuffs and knives. The whole is neat, laid out like a workshop. Their positioning is balanced and ordered; a place for everything and everything in its place. You shudder...knowing that most if not all of these implements will be used on you during the weekend. And in their blatant display you feel yourself submitting, accepting my right to choose what I do and how I do it.
And even as you gaze at each instrument of my control, you note the items I have told you about but are which not visible; the ropes, the chains, the spreader bar, the violet wand. Your pussy tingles and moistens in anticipation.
You turn to the bed where you have placed your suitcase. You open it, looking at the clothes you have brought for the weekend, garments chosen to display your body and incite my lust. For this first session you lay out a Morgan t-shirt and a short black skirt. Your shoes are to be a pair of black ankle strap high heels.
Swiftly you strip off your clothes. Your newly shaven cunt still feels cool to the air, and the wetness from our earlier kiss is slightly sticky. Your nipples harden in the cold air, reaching out to me. You look down at your curves and pray that I will be happy with what I see. Your breasts are heavy on your slight frame, and you hips curve seductively. Under 5 foot, you are all woman with a rich hour glass figure. Your hair is short but thick. Your legs are slim and you know that in high heels you always get a second glance from men as you walk by.
And yet, you still worry that you aren't good enough, despite my reassurances that all we have shared has convinced me that you the one I have been looking for.
