For so long I had defined myself by my role as wife and mother. I had pushed aside my sexual self as deviant and unnecessary and instead defined myself by my role. I was the good wife, obedient and demanding nothing. I was the good mother baking muffins and volunteering at school. I helped with homework and wiped away tears and felt my sexual self dying a bit more every day.
Being a good wife and a good mother was important, hell it still is important but Sir made me realize that it was not the only important thing. I am important too, and my submission is my gift to Sir and my legacy to myself.
So I changed my life and reordered my priorities. I am no longer a wife. I will always be a mother but by reaching out for what I need I have become a better mother because I can live in my own skin.
I met Sir online when I was standing on the edge trying to decide if I was worth the sacrifices I would require. My practical side insisted on caution and care but She would not be silenced. She demanded that her voice be heard and her needs be met and caution had no right to demand her submission. Only Sir could do that and in order for that to happen I had to get out of my own way.
As I readied myself for my first scene with Sir my hands shook. Would Sir find me wanting? The thought of disappointing him made me shudder. We had done coffee several times in recent weeks after months of contact online. We had discussed limits hard and soft. We had discussed Sir's style and my own wants and needs. We had discussed Sir's requirements and Sir had explained safety and really building trust and how Sir felt that trust took time and so there were things he would not do until trust had been built.
As I shaved myself and ran my fingers over my folds to make sure they were smooth and ready for his inspection I could feel my fingers tremble. I remembered our discussions and wanted so much to please him. Over and over the razor slid over my skin until I was smooth and soft for his pleasure.
I went to my closet and pulled out the dress Sir had chosen for me. I had taken my cellphone shopping and taken pictures of myself in almost thirty different dresses. As soon as Sir had seen this dress he had halted my shopping and declared it perfect. Knowing that the dress pleased him made me feel right inside. When I could please Sir my world felt whole.
I pulled the dress off the hanger and admired it's lines once again. The top was low cut and lightly boned to make wearing a bra unnecessary. The soft black chiffon tucked in at my waist and fell to a skirt made with several layers of the same fabric which overlapped and swirled as I walked. It was cut to lay between my knee and my ass and had a handkerchief hem so the higher layers gave the impression that a scandalous bit of flesh would be revealed at any moment as I walked. Yet it never made good on that promise. Sir alone would determine who would be allowed to gaze upon the flesh hidden by the fluttering layers of skirt.
I pulled on the garter belt and clipped the silk stockings in place. The softness of the silk caressed my leg and emphasized the bareness of my pussy and ass. Sir had demanded they be left bare so that I would be accessible to him. Finally I pulled on the garter which Sir had insisted be red. As I walked the garter played peekaboo through the layers of chiffon and added to my feeling that I was laid bare and trembling and at his mercy.