I stood there quietly waiting for him to appear. The stares from the passing airport guests were easy to feel and I did my best to ignore them. It was hard. I admit that; it still is hard to recall the lewd looks and the disgusted glares that washed over me from people I didn't know. Funny, how a person wishes to be liked by even those they will probably never encounter again. I knew what they were seeing and why they disapproved of me. It was sad too, sad for them, because they were dismissing me without knowing me.
I had dressed for him. He'd instructed me in what to wear and I obeyed. It is second nature for me to do his bidding. Without hesitation that morning I rose from bed and walked over to the closet where the outfit he'd chosen rested in a plastic bag. The smell of leather filled my senses and a moment of weakness fell over me as I breathed in the scent of the soft black fabric. It was a scent I will always relate to him, the scent of power, strength, dominance. It is him.
The dress, and I use the term loosely, hugged my full frame. A zipper ran the length of the front and it barely closed at the top. My breasts threatened to spill out, but that was the point he wanted to make. He wanted me to showcase my attributes, attributes that I had often found lacking due to their generous proportions. My hands ran down the fabric as I studied my reflection in the mirror. I saw the flaws, manifested them in my mind until they were larger than life. If he had been there, he would have seen the difference in me and quickly dealt with the issues, making sure I stripped and pointed out all the qualities he enjoyed. I gave the dress a final tug, but it did nothing to hide the fact the hem stopped just a couple inches from the rounded cheeks of my ass.
That outfit, occupied by a long black trench coat and a pair of thigh-high boots is what I was being judged on. The outer shell hid the inner woman. Or did it? I looked the part of a slut. A whore. A cunt. In reality, my reality and his, I was and am those things. It took his friendship and patience for me to realize it, but now that I have I wouldn't go back. I live to serve and please. It is my nature. This shouldn't surprise me, for years I have served others and lived my life to please those around me. This is a bit different though. This time I am doing something for myself as well as for another.
Who is getting more out of this relationship? I have often asked myself this. He says he is and that I don't know how much he enjoys our friendship. Yet, I don't know if he truly realizes how much I need this relationship. He is my teacher for the next three days and when I leave his side and return to my quiet life, it will be his touch that stays with me when the nights are long, cold, and lonely. It will be his voice in my head that brings me to climax. It will be the memory of us that makes me shudder with desire. Perhaps after this weekend, he will know how much we need each other, if even for only the occasional fantasy.
"You're slouching."
Immediately my back goes straight and I assume position. My head snaps up, my arms rest against my sides, one foot crosses in front of the other and I remain still, barely breathing. He's there now. I can smell him, his scent. I'd never breathed it in before, but I recognize it. Power. He walks around me; my eyes remain fixed on a spot on the wall as he inspects me. I can see him through my peripheral vision. I take him in. He looks just as delicious in reality as he does on the web cam. He still radiates strength, confidence, and authority, just like he does online. I am in awe.
"Very nice," he tells me. My lips move taking on a small, soft smile. He sees it and grins. I chew on the inside of my bottom lip. He stands in front of me now. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, still looking over his shoulder. He reaches into his jacket pocket and my breath catches in my throat as the collar is pulled from its depths. Again my lip is assaulted by my teeth. He reaches up and I close my eyes as the leather band wraps snugly around my neck. I want to sigh and melt against him. To whisper "yes" but I don't. My lips tremble as he steps closer, places his lips on mine and tastes me for the first time.
As his tongue moves against the edges of my lips, a whimper escapes me and a tear falls from my closed lids. My mouth is open now, I breathe in the same air as he does and he takes the opening I give him, pushing his tongue into my mouth and claiming me in the flesh as he has on the screen. His hands move down my arms and he pulls me closer to him. Our heads angle, the kiss deepens and another whimper and sigh escapes my lungs only to be swallowed up by him. When we pull apart, I look into his eyes and feel my soul slowly being consumed by the darkness he claims possesses him. "My God," is all I whisper as he trials a finger across my cheek and down my neck where he rubs the skin under the collar I now wear.
The muscles in my stomach are tight and for the first time since he appeared there is no one else in the airport. We are alone, or so it seems. I feel as if I am on a cloud, suspended above all others as we enjoy the moment we both hungered for. It ends though when he pulls away, releasing my arms and taking my hand. We walk away. I have no carry-on. His instructions were followed to the letter. I brought no other clothes with me. I knew what my attire for the weekend would be. "Nothing but the collar." His typed words spill over me as he took me to his car and opens the door for me.
He gets in and all is quiet for a while. I am tense. I can feel it in my shoulders, my back, my legs. I wonder if he is also. I want to reach out and take his hand. Hold him just so I can feel safe. All of this is new to me. He is my teacher, my friend, and soon to be my lover. Once more I chew on my lip. My hands rest on my knees and then his hand is there. He takes one of mine in his and holds it firmly, a slight squeeze and then he releases me. I relax. He knew what I needed and simply provided it to me with a simple touch. "Thank you," I whisper. He smiles and our drive continues.
We arrive at the hotel and he helps me from the car. His hand slips beneath the trench coat and I feel his fingers resting at the small of my back. The deep cut of the dress allows his touch to skim across my flesh. I tremble and he chuckles softly. "Easy pet," he whispers against my hair and gently guides me toward the hotel lobby, to an elevator and then down a long hallway. We stop in front of a door, where he produces a key card. He looks down at me. My eyes hold his and I give a quick nod. He answers back with a firm one of his own. There is no turning back now. The door opens and he guides me in; once more, his hand is on my skin.
The room is dim, only the sunlight tries to cast its rays across the interior of the sparsely furnished area. The drapes are drawn tight and my eyes land on the bed. There is a bag next to it. Black. Ominous. Comforting. Threatening. I have an idea of what is inside, but still I am not totally aware of all He's planned. "Undress," he tells me, dropping the keycard and his car keys on the table and then walking over to a chair set under the window. I bite down on my lip and pull off my coat.
I feel my blush spreading from my cheeks, down my neck, across my shoulders. I don't hesitate. I find that odd because the entire time I was in flight I told myself I would balk. I would chicken out and I would run away. But here I stand, removing my coat and folding it carefully to drape across the table. He watches me and again I don't feel any apprehension as I step over to the bed and lift one leg onto the mattress. I move slowly glancing at him as I pull the zipper of the boot down, exposing my thigh, my knee, my calf and eventually my ankle and foot. The process is repeated leaving me standing with only the leather dress on.
One more time I gaze at him. His fingers rest in a steeple, pressed against his lips. I can still taste him on my own and I lick at them, recapturing the feel of his mouth on mine. I swallow, blush more and then smile softly as my fingers tremble while sliding the zipper of the dress down. My breasts pop free and his eyes flicker over my bosom. My nipples instantly grow harder. I bite on my wet lip, pull the zipper further, exposing the small scars that lie across my stomach. The sound of my breathing seems to echo in my ears, playing with the same melody of my rapid pulse. The only other noise in the room is from the metal teeth as the dress is fully opened and then gently pushed from my shoulders where it falls to the floor.
"Very nice, pet," he tells me and then stands.
I stay still as he approaches me. I want to cover myself, to hide the flaws. I don't though. I stand there. Nervous and afraid he'll not like what he sees. He does though. I know it, but it is still hard to believe. He's seen pictures of me, all kinds and yet in the flesh is so very different. He's seen me live, but again here I am in person, waiting for some sign that he is still pleased. When his hand runs across my ass and then trails across to toy with the soft hairs of my pussy, I know he still desires me. A puff of air I didn't know I was holding releases itself as does the tension I had in my gut. I relax.
"Go over to the closet door."
I move to the door and wait as he opens the bag and pulls something out. He approaches me and I glance at what he has in his hands. Straps, buckles, leather, cloth, all of these things appear to me as a tangled web. I shiver. Excitement courses through me. He opens the door, tosses one of the straps across the edge and then closes it. A puzzled expression is clearly written on my face.
"Lift your arms."
I do. He slides a pair of leather bands on them and then these are attached to the strap that hangs from the door. I recall then the use of over the door restraints and grin as dawning fills my features. He adjusts the size, forcing me to follow his lead and raise up on the tips of my toes. I do hate being short, but right now I am thrilled with the sensation of being at his mercy. His hands run down my arms, then up again. Goose bumps appear not from a chill, but from the hunger his touch is producing deep inside me. I feel my sex tighten and know if he were to check, he'd find me slick.
I feel another pair of bands being wrapped around my ankles and then he pushes my legs apart. I can smell the scent of my arousal and blush knowing he can to. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but then again maybe it would scare me and I would change my mind. No, that won't happen. I hunger too much for this to abandon it. He leaves and then returns, never gone for long as he prepares me for his use. A bar is placed between my spread ankles. I am thankful for it, knowing now I will have no choice but to remain spread for him. Open. Exposed.
