The plane was in its final descent. She sat in her window seat staring out at the unfamiliar terrain of Minnesota. She was California born and raised, and had spent the last several years of her adult life in the sleepy, lush deep south.
The fact that she was heading so far north was yet another example that you should never say never.
A short time ago, she would have sworn that she would never get involved in a long distance relationship, let alone with a man who lived in a place that gets snowy and cold in the winter; she still remembered her first year of graduate school, sobbing in front of her window as she studied and dreamed of the west coast sun while staring at the field of icy white in front of her.
She would also have sworn that she wouldn't get involved in an internet affair a year or two before, but the world was changing, and distance had been largely defeated by the magic of cyberspace. If it hadn't been, she wouldn't be flying towards a man that she had never met in the flesh, a man whose face had first caught her attention posted beside a string of confident and concise words on an internet politics board. A politics board on a BDSM site, no less. She had watched him and read his posts for weeks, long before he ever noticed her and said something pleasant and casual in a thread. She had gone into her best Mae West meets Dorothy Dandridge then, or so she had thought, flirting with him every chance that she got. Their circling of each other had been slow and cautious, the attraction there, but muted, as if behind soft cotton batting, until one thing led to another, and here she was.
It would have been like any other web based alliance in its early stages except for one thing -- these two people had agreed to embark on a power exchange relationship, one without limits, prior to this meeting.
That was the third thing that she would have sworn could never happen again.
She had tried M/s in the past, but the fit had been wrong and the structure had collapsed, leaving nothing salvageable in the wreckage. She had buried her deviance in a French postcard world of satin corsets and luxuriant spankings, the kindness of her user appreciated, but with a smoothness that left her aching for the hard, cold beauty of roughness.
Her masochism frightened her at times...the way that her mind strayed to the most deviant of dungeon dreams while she fucked or sucked or touched herself...She tried to retrain her imagination, but the id will have what it will have. Her fantasies were sepia toned; a shadowy world of chains and whimpers and degradation, landing safely on a reef of sanity on the other side.
She had had the kind of sexual life that most people would consider "kinky", filled as it was with spankings and collars, and long Latin phrases that described debauchery, but she had never yet plumbed the depths of her imaginings. She had almost put it all away in the safer world of sensual domination when this new tango began with this new man, and in nothing flat she had mentally dropped to her knees in front of him.
So now what?
___
The door closed behind them silently, the banter that they had managed to keep up on the 35 minute drive suddenly silenced. Her heart sped up as she realized that they were alone, and then it was time to make good on all of the promises that she had made -- promises to obey, to serve, to do what he liked without question, and without the familiar safety nets that she had always had when playing such "games" in the past.
His look was unreadable in the dim twilight of the room, she realized that she didn't know his eyes well enough yet to read his looks, and that made her rational mind scream that this was folly; that she was alone in a secluded house with a man that she had only known in a two dimensional world until now. Now the world had three dimensions, and five senses, and they were alone.
Her heart sped up with a surge of emotions that was equally divided between terror and lust.
His look grew harder as he pulled her to him.
"Scared?"
"Ye -- no, yes, Sir".
