She was coming to him as he demanded, dressed like a school girl in a plaid skirt so short that she was terribly self-conscious in it. Underneath the skirt were ruffled white panties--the kind little girls wore under their Sunday dresses. She had on white knee-high socks and patent leather mary janes. He instructed her to wear a thin white blouse that he had mailed to her. No bra. That would interfere with the effect he wanted. Around her neck was a slave collar attached by chains to the small clamps squeezing her nipples. Not quite painfully, but almost. He wanted her hair in two pigtails as well, tied with pink ribbons. Her schoolgirl persona was complete.
To make her submission to him all the more absolute, he demanded she take a bus to meet him--no hiding in a car. As she boarded the bus, she could feel everyone's eyes on her, taking in her appearance. They first noticed the shortness of her skirt, just barely covering her panties. Next, they realized she was wearing a leather collar. Finally, she could feel everyone staring at her nipples, erect due to the clamps, but they could also see their dusky color as well due to the thin fabric of the blouse. This was exactly what he wanted, she knew. The people on the bus didn't know who she belonged to, but they knew that, indeed, she belonged to someone.
She paid her fare, her face flaming, and quickly walked toward a seat in the middle of the bus. Again, this was his demand. No hiding in the back. He said he would know if she disobeyed, and she believed him. She sat down, noticing the heads turn to gawk. Most of the men stared with unabashed interest. Most of the women were offended by her overt display of sexuality. The bus began to move, and while she could feel eyes still upon her, she was able to think about how she felt. He had taught her to do that. To become deeply aware of how she was feeling. She was embarrassed, of course. But she also enjoyed being on display and knowing that she had probably elicited a few hardening cocks around her. There was also excitement. Excitement at her boldness to do what she had just done. Excitement, also at what was in store for her when she finally reached him. She kept her thoughts focused on what lie ahead. If she thought too long about where she was and how she looked, she wouldn't have been able to handle the embarrassment. She focused on her excitement. She knew that today was about her complete submission to him. The idea thrilled and scared her. She had never before even contemplated the idea of submitting to a man. Then again, she hadn't ever met someone like him.
She thought about how they met. She had gone to the swinger's club as a dare to herself. She had turned 35 that year and she was trying to break out of her rut and try new things. The swinger's club was definitely new. So she had dressed in what was to her at the time her most provocative outfit. Short black skirt (short for her being anything above the knees), black stockings, red and black corset, and patent red leather stilettos. She was amazed at how different she felt in the outfit. Bolder, perhaps. Sexier, definitely.
She had been at the club for an hour, feeling grossly out of place. She didn't dare drink more than a couple of drinks and knew she probably looked as out of place as she felt. There was some titillation in watching people be so unabashed about their sexual pleasure, but as for participating in any of it, she had declined all requests that had come her way. It did thrill her a bit to know that men and women were interested. And if she were being completely honest she was tempted to accept one of the offers from one of the ladies who had first approached her.
She was fantasizing about what it would have been like had she said yes as she watched two females grinding against each other and deeply kissing on the dance floor. As she was lost in her fantasy, she suddenly felt someone behind her and hot breath blow across her neck and ear as a man whispered "The sensuality of two females together cannot be beat." His voice swept over her like a hot wind. Deep and masculine with a slight rasp, it was a voice that was made for listening to. Heat flooded through her as she thought of that voice saying her name. She turned around to greet her fellow voyeur and was immediately struck by the intensity of his eyes. His face was certainly attractive enough, but his eyes made her feel as though he could see every thought she had ever had.
"Good evening." He gave her a small smile. "I'm Max. And you?"
She was again struck at the incredible sensuality of his voice and for a moment lost her place in the conversation. He looked at her expectantly.
"Oh! Maya. My name is Maya." He took her hand and turned it so he could place a kiss on her inner wrist. She immediately broke out in gooseflesh as she felt his warm lips against her sensitive skin.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Maya." Oh, Lord, she thought. Her name sounded even better than she had ever hoped it would in his voice. She looked at him as he straightened after kissing her wrist. For the first time in her thirty-plus years on this earth she was contemplating sex with a stranger. Her mind immediately went to the private rooms they had on the third floor of the club and her face flushed crimson as she imagined him hot and hard thrusting into her. He hadn't yet let go of her hand and was watching her face and chest flush with color. For a minute with the way his eyes got dark and his mouth went almost loose and hungry she thought he truly had seen her thoughts with those penetrating eyes of his. This caused her turn an even deeper shade of red. He smiled again and said, "Let's get a drink and some fresh air, shall we?" She gratefully agreed as he still had her hand and led her through the crowd to the bar. He turned to her as they got there and asked, "What would you like?"
"Water, please." She didn't dare let her defenses down for a minute with this man. She didn't feel threatened, exactly. But she did feel vulnerable and far too tempted to do anything he asked. IF he asked.
"Two waters," he told the bartender. The bartender handed him two bottles. He turned and handed one to her and let go of her hand to open his. She felt a little forlorn at that. His hand felt solid and strong around hers and quite frankly, she liked the slight possessiveness of it. As if he were telling everyone who saw them, "She's mine." She pondered him as he started walking toward the doors leading to an outdoor patio. As she followed she tried to make sense of her attraction to this man. It wasn't as though he were Hugh Jackman, Paul Newman and Denzel Washington all rolled up into one package. He was of average height and build and yet she was wet and aching after meeting him not five minutes ago. She shook her head as she followed him outside.
He was leaning against the railing around the patio and watched her as she joined him. He gazed at her appreciatively and after a few seconds asked, "So, Maya, what made you decide to try a Swinger's Club tonight?"
She let out a slight groan. "Is it that obvious this was my first time?"
He chuckled. "I spotted you the moment you walked in." For some reason that gave her a thrill. He'd been watching her the whole time? "And don't worry. Everyone has to have a first time. What do you think so far?"
Maya related to him how the idea of it was thrilling, but the actual partaking of the sensual pleasures was still something she wasn't quite comfortable with. He nodded and listened, never once taking his eyes off her. It was disconcerting to have all that intensity aimed at her, but at the same time it kept her wondering again what it would feel like to have this man's hands, lips, and body on--and in--her's.
After she finished, he asked her what it was she had been hoping to find here.
The question caught her off guard. She hadn't really given much thought to what she wanted to find. DID she want to find anything? She struggled over her answer for a moment and finally said, "I guess I was hoping to tap into that part of myself I know is there. I just haven't ever explored it. I've been the good girl all my life, always doing what was expected of me. Never making a choice that wouldn't meet the approval of my family and friends."
"What parts of yourself do you think you've kept hidden?" he asked.
"Sexual," she blurted. Her face flamed again as she grabbed her water and chugged half the bottle. To his credit, he didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. He just waited for her to continue.
"You see," she started, "I grew up thinking sex and sexuality were bad and wrong. Sex was never discussed in our house except for 'the talk.' I didn't masturbate until I was 24 years old and I lost my virginity the same year. And the guilt I felt at both of those acts was bad, but not bad enough for me to stop." She looked up at him.
"Please continue," he asked.
"And sometimes, the things I think about when I, umm, well. Sometimes the things I think about make me embarrassed. I don't know, I guess for me it's wrong to have those sorts of thoughts. But then, why does it excite me so much?" She shook her hand and looked down at the bottle of water in her hands if only to avoid his gaze. She had never shared so much with a complete stranger before.
He brushed her hair away from her face. "Maya, look at me." She did. "As humans, our sexuality is a gift. Sex is fun. Sex feels good. And thoughts that you have that bring you pleasure can't ever be 'bad' or 'wrong'. He glanced at his watch. "Damn. I have to go."
Maya was crestfallen at this. She was hoping she would finally be able to shake her good girl image once and for all, and have an incredible night of sex with this man who did things to her without touching her no one had done to her before.
"Give me your number, Maya. Our conversation is not finished." Maya grabbed the card and pen her produced from his jacket pocket and quickly wrote down her number. He placed the card back in his jacket without looking at it. He then leaned toward her and placed his face at the nape of her neck and inhaled deeply. He then let out a low growl and suddenly he was biting her neck. She let out a gasp of surprise as she was flooded again with wetness. "Until we speak again, Maya." And then he was gone.
Surprisingly , he called her the next day and thus began an incredible month of discussions with him that opened her eyes and her mind to the limitless ideas of sexuality that were her's to explore. BDSM, role play, multi-partner, same sex partner, costumes, different personas. He explored them all with her and encouraged her to open herself further. To share with him her secret thoughts and longings. Each conversation left her soaking wet and aching. He also encouraged her to play with herself. She bought toys and videos and started looking at things online. He promised her they would explore all of the things they talked about. But for their first exploration, they would delve into her submitting to him.
Maya broke from her reverie when the bus driver announced her stop. As she walked toward the front of the bus, she had a moment's panic about walking to the address he had given her. It was a nice enough neighborhood, but dressed as she was, she thought if a cop sees her she'll definitely be mistaken for a working girl. It was the middle of the day and there were plenty of people about to see her walk the half block to the building. Again, her embarrassment was evident as her traitorous skin turned a bright red as people openly gawked at the way she was dressed. She made it to the building and rushed toward the elevator. Fifth floor, she thought to herself. Thankfully, the elevator was empty. It gave her a moment to collect herself and calm her breathing. The elevator dinged to signal her arrival at the fifth floor. Maya stepped out and had a brief moment of panic as she blanked out on the suite number he had given her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. 515!!
She walked to the door marked 515 and stood there a moment. She knew she could back out. She also knew if she did she would regret it forever and would never hear from Max again. This was her test, she realized. He wanted to see just how much she was willing to do, how far she was willing to go. She knocked on the door.
It had been over a month since she'd last seen him and she was struck again by the force of his presence and the penetrating gaze of those blue eyes. She smiled at him, her megawatt smile she gets so many compliments on, but he doesn't smile back. He merely says, "You're late, Maya. That's one."
The smile fades from Maya's face. She forgets what the game is and starts to instinctively protest. "Late? But I can't control the bus drivers or their sched--" she realizes her mistake and immediately stops talking.
