First Time 167

He walked along the thickly carpeted corridor on the third floor of the hotel he had chosen for their first meeting in the real world. His feelings were an intoxicating brew of hard, predatory anticipation and a churning rolling flip in his stomach which made his mouth salivate and his cock thicken. Adrenaline, he thought to himself -- fight, flight or fuck - he smiled at the twist his flying mind had added to the traditional description.

He had never been so aware of his physical presence as he was at that moment. His height, chiselled muscles, deep chest and the masculine sense of self they gave him had been fired for weeks by the ever more erotic games he had been playing with the woman he hoped would be waiting for him in room 317.

The dominant thoughts and feelings he had been at such pains to conceal since their first appearance in his late teams had been teased from him. Against every expectation of his sheltered upbringing, she had revelled in his desires, assured him of their devastatingly delicious effect on her own matching submissive nature, explaining how she had suppressed her sometimes desperate need to submit, living it only through her voracious appetite for erotic literature. He had been amazed and delighted by the thoughts she had shared with him and impressed by the academic nature of her sexual research. She knew much more than him of the world of dominance and submission, not least that it went under the soubriquet of D/s. She had shared with him her understanding of this wanton world, gained from books and websites that were completely foreign to him. Every now and again, he wondered if some of her knowledge came from experience rather than the written word, unworthy suspicions he had kept to himself up to now.

He arrived at their room and found the door slightly ajar as she had promised him. She had explained that she needed to be the first to arrive so that she could prepare for his arrival. In her books, submissive women always prepared meticulously for their dominant lovers. She had sent him a story to help him understand, which he had read avidly, stroking his impossibly hard cock as he did so. The desire to be totally smooth, perfectly made up, dressed in what she had referred to as a submissive uniform and presented for his pleasure was all explored in the erotically elegant prose that she had emailed to him just over a week ago.

He had read and re-read it, coming to think of it not as a story, one amongst many, but "The Story" - a unique description of the behaviour of a sexual tribe of which he was, as yet, only an honourary member. He recognised the nature of his own dominant feelings and desires in the words and actions of the male protagonist. For the first time in his life, he came to believe that there might be others like him, other men who were energised and sexually defined by control, force and power. Much more important though was the revelation that there were women in the world who were transported by such qualities, who sought them out in their partners, who craved them and were prepared to submit to the men who possessed them in every way imaginable.

He pushed the strap of his overnight bag onto his shoulder and gently pushed the door to room 317 open. As he did so, he felt a sharp edge press into his ribs from the bag he carried. He had taken a chance with the recent purchases that resided therein. The Story had included a number of D/s toys which had filled him with the same predatory anticipation he felt now as he read of their use. He had explored the internet to see if such wicked delights were freely available and was astonished to find that they were on sale in their thousands -- as easy to access as any of accoutrements of much more innocent hobbies.

He had spent several hours exploring their extent and variety and eventually settled on three selections. The nipple clamps, linked by a silver chain had featured in The Story. The submissive heroine had been rendered helpless, tied tightly to the frame of a bed designed with D/s in mind. She had then received the cruel kiss of the clamps applied by her impassive dominant lover. The description of the steel teeth of the strong, spring loaded clamps biting into the soft skin of her rock hard nipples had caused his cock to harden and rear. Her whimpers and moans, escalating to screams and a frenzied begging to have them released had transfixed him. He had been amazed and delighted by her refusal to use the safe word that she had been given which would have guaranteed their removal. She had chosen the pain and unwavering obedience to her lover's will. The final revelation however had been the result of her lover sliding two fingers deep into her displayed cunt and finding her soaking wet, to such an extent that her thighs were drenched right down to her stocking tops.

Secondly, he had bought a leather flogger. Again, this had featured in The Story. The dominant man had untied the heroine's legs and instructed her to spread them wide and keep them spread, no matter what was done to her. He had then proceeded to use the wicked leather fronds to chastise her inner thighs. He had avoided any more intimate punishment until she begged for their rough caress on her dripping entrance. The description of the whipping of the screaming submissive girl's defenceless cunt had held him spellbound. He could almost taste that level of power and control and he knew he must have it.

Finally and very simply, he had bought a blindfold. He had been intrigued by the descriptions given of the vulnerability of the submissive girl and of her reactions to the experience. He had realised then the importance of limits and boundaries in D/s relationships. Deprived of sight, there was virtually nothing that she would not do or suffer for her dominant. The trust she felt in him was greatly enhanced by the fact that her own independence had been so deliciously compromised by the simple application of black silk over her adoring eyes. Her own boundaries, however strongly felt before losing her sight, had crumbled as she gave herself up to the will of the man to whom she had entrusted such sensual and visceral control. As he had devoured the words which so graphically described the hero's ruthless exploitation of this gift, it seemed to him the very essence of the dominance he had felt for so long and was now so close to experiencing.

The door opened with a slight creak. He hadn't known what to expect. This was the moment when the wanton world of fiction gave way to real life. He was old enough and wise enough to temper his expectations and not allow them to be unduly influenced by a fictional precursor and the images it had engendered. He was stunned therefore to see before him, in the soft flickering light of the candles which were surely not hotel issue, the setting from the first page of The Story.

The woman he knew as Kate was leaning over, her hands on the back of a red velvet chair, facing away from him. Her feet were elegantly angled into high stilettos, legs encased in black silk stockings, leaving the tops of her creamy, white thighs bare to the hip. There, the tiny black strap of a pair of thong panties cut across the swelling curve of delicate pale skin, drawing his eyes to the firm, completely displayed round globes of her delectable derriere. Her back was covered in black satin, eye hooks just visible in the subdued light, a basque which also caused the cinching of her waist above the voluptuous curve of her bare hips. Her shoulders were bare and above them, her neck was decorated by a pink leather collar which completed the sub uniform she had so accurately described to him.

She had heard him come in and the whimpers she gave at his arrival were born of her vulnerability and the excitement and deep arousal such risk caused in her. They also acted to galvanise him. He salivated and hardened instantly. Breathing deeply and slowly to maintain the control he knew he would need, he slipped the strap of his overnight bag from his shoulder and placed it on the dressing table to his left. He stopped then and looked at the girl displayed before him. So many times he had wondered how this might feel and now, here he was, not a dream or a fantasy or a story, not even The Story. She was real, willing, visibly excited, here and now. And then it came. Surging through him, a natural high, a stream of power running the length of his body. He was not just hard now, he was like rock.

Somehow she sensed it. Her whimpers grew in volume and he knew how much she was craving his touch. He had been worried about this moment, afraid he would not know what to do, how to act, nervous that he would be tentative, his dominant desire, expressed with increasing confidence in the virtual world, lost in the face of such luscious display. But it wasn't like that at all. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. He stood behind her, breathing in the expensive perfume in which she had doused herself for him. He allowed the rough denim of his jeans to scrape delicately over the quivering skin of her ass. She whimpered and pressed back for more contact. He moved with her, maintaining the tenuous brush of the coarse cloth on her shuddering flesh, her whimpering grew deeper in tone, more demanding and blatantly sexual. Immediately, he kicked at the inner side of her stilettos one after the other. Her whimpers morphed into soft screams as she spread her legs in response to his dominant command.

He reached down and without warning or preparation took her mound in his strong hand from behind and gripped her hard. She screamed and her legs turned to jelly under her. She would have crumpled helplessly to the floor but for the strength in his arm holding her in place. Her cunt flooded and soaked her tiny panties and she screamed again as he re-strengthened his grip on her, increasing the delicious pressure of his palm on her swollen cunt. Gradually, he increased the power of his hold and slowly, but with real relish and irresistible confidence, he began to lift her. Her hands held their place on the back of the red velvet chair, balancing her as his strong arm flexed and her weight was inexorably transferred from the precarious points of her high heels to the secure platform of his warm, strong hand. She screamed out loud, all control lost, as her cunt lips stretched wide open, split mercilessly by the ever increasing pressure and she gushed in helpless orgasm as her clit mashed down onto his warm, controlling male flesh and her heels left the floor. He held her in place, his hand soaked to the wrist and delivered the first hard slap to her gorgeous, raised ass. Her gasp of shock turned to a moan of submissive appreciation as he repeated the blow, it felt like coming home.