As the idea hits you, you turn to your right to look at her. She is sitting beside you on the bus, her head bent, reading a book. Her hair is up, the way you like it, and you can see the curve of her neck.
Your gaze travels down her shoulders, the contrast of the tight white top with her smooth tanned skin pleasing you as she knew it would. You notice she is not wearing a bra, like you had asked her not to. The pale blue skirt she is wearing is short, and tight around her hips, the color of her legs also reflecting the holiday climate.
It was beyond your wildest dreams to possess such a being, to know that you own her thoughts, her body and her mind. You marvel again at her age; 21, and yet so naturally submissive that she had required hardly any training at all. Her independent spirit pleases you more than she knows. To others she is a young beautiful woman, independently wealthy from a famous family. She has all the confidence, pleasing arrogance and self belief of one born into the upper class. Her demeanor with others is friendly, assertive and self-assured. “She knows what she wants and knows she can have it”. Your mouth softens slightly into a rare smile when you remember your first meeting. It had been here in this very town, 2 years ago. She had been here on a family holiday, many of her jet-set friends also with her in this Mecca of the wealthy young. You had locked eyes across a crowded bar, the young sexy girl catching your eye more than most. You had watched her actions and movements with a vague interest, certain your tastes and requirements would not be met by one so young, so beautiful and so privileged. Then she had turned and looked into your eyes. The moment had held, your interest piqued as you saw her breathing increase and the color rise to her cheeks. Your surprise had been almost total as she had crossed the bar to talk to you. It was only much later that she shyly admitted to you that it was the first time in her life that she had addressed anyone as ‘Sir’ and that it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to call you by that title.
You had taken her that same first night. The pleasure of her youthful beauty exceed only by the discovery she was a virgin. She had spent the rest of the vacation in your presence, in your pleasure. The deep instinctive bond you had formed strengthened and forged by her natural submission and your domination. It amused you to see her in public, her self-assurance contrasting with the way she was when she was alone with you, submissive, yielding, offering herself in every way. Her mind, her body, even, you smilingly remember, her riches. A quick spanking had put paid to those thoughts. After much discussion you had decided that she should return home with her parents and continue her education, but that you would continue to love and meet each other. Your mutual devotion only accentuated by the distance.
You had met her parents that same holiday. Her famous father was cautiously welcoming, your age difference less than the 12 years which separated him from his own wife. Her mother had greeted you with the buoyant confidence most mothers had greeted you with over the years, your charm, and the certain, je ne sais quoi, as always wresting her to your side. Your relationship in front of her parents, and in public, at your express desire, had been normal, with no unusual element of domination or submission. Secure in the knowledge that your princess belonged to you in her totality you have no need for superficial public displays.
Until now.
“You like to please your Master, don’t you slut?” Your voice is coarse, deep. As she turns you see her eyes are glazed. You know she did not hear your words, but that the tone, the depth and your desire penetrated to her inner core.
“Yes Master.” She responds automatically.
“Stand for me. Stand for me now in front of me.” She looks up at you. Her eyes wide, her beautiful face flushed with excitement and trepidation. Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches up and pulls herself from the seat. She automatically smoothes her skirt as she stands up, moving in front of you. Standing with legs spread slightly, one hand resting on a bar for support, swaying slightly with the movements of the bus.
