I put the car in park, turn the key to shut off the engine and take a deep breath to compose myself. The butterflies in my tummy refuse to go away though. Half of my mind is standing off to the side screaming, "What are you doing, girl? AH! Go home where it's safe!" But the other half is loving the anxiety I feel, craving more, craving to be in your presence finally for the first time in real life. It's so excited to see the man I've given my will to, the man who has so much power over me, the man that I ache to please. My Master. Therefore, I have only one choice - one that you've narrowed my life down to - I must go in and meet you.
As I turn to slide my legs out of the car, I move very carefully. The plug that I obediently wear shifts inside me, pressing into the tender walls of my anus. The constant pressure in there keeps you continually in the forefront of my thoughts - just as it should be. When I reach the entrance to the bar, I pause long enough to check my appearance one final time, hoping it will be pleasing to you. My plain white linen dress is short, but not so much as to be immodest. I wear nothing under it in order to give you full access if you so desire. My hair is pulled back from my face and French-braided into a long rope down my back so it won't tangle and interfere with whatever happens tonight. My firm legs are bare and the sandals click lightly on the sidewalk as I go in the door.
You said you would meet me at the bar so I tell the waiter I don't need a table. It's a good thing - the place is beginning to fill up with the after-work happy hour crowd. I have no doubt that I will recognize you immediately though - I already feel that you are near.
I scan the line of barstools, and except for one, they are all occupied. And the man beside the empty one turns, as you can feel me too.
Without a shadow of doubt, I know it's you - your eyes flash as you know me, but other than that, your face shows no expression. That is very appropriate for you position, it keeps a sub from getting too complacent in her role. She must continually strive to please you, to earn her own pleasure of seeing your satisfaction.
I stop before you and bow my head slightly to show you the proper respect. You nod at me and call me by my name, offering your hand. I shake it and smile nervously, glad that you seem so calm and confident. You motion for me to take the stool beside you. Gracefully, I climb up, place my purse on the bar at my elbow and cross my legs, facing you. "You're beautiful," you tell me with a gleam in those wonderful eyes.
Blushing, I thank you, my heart fluttering wildly.
We talk for maybe half an hour; small, inconsequential chatter meant to put us both at ease. That, along with a couple of drinks, does remove most of my immediate tension and makes me anxious to get on with the next phase. At this point, it seems that you too have sensed a settling and you are ready to advance. As a sign of this change, you say, "So, my pet, from this point on, I am your Master. Do you agree?" I nod, my head automatically tilting downward. "Yes, Master, I do." "Wonderful. Are you prepared as I requested?" "I am, Master." "Tell me what preparations you took," you say. Looking around nervously, you see the hesitation on my face. I am afraid that the people close by can hear me. I begin to whisper, stammering, "The uh... plug.. is where you told me it should be." A look of strong displeasure crosses your face and I'm not exactly sure what's wrong. "I did not tell you to whisper and be shy. Are you ashamed of your Master?" "No, Sir! No, I'm not!" "Then you speak directly to me, don't hesitate to answer and don't make it difficult for me to hear you."
"Yes, Master," I agree, angry with myself for displeasing you. "Then begin again. Perhaps I will ignore this initial transgression, perhaps not. It depends on how well you act during the rest of the evening."
"I have the anal plug in now, as you instructed," I tell you in a normal conversational tone. I see the woman behind your shoulder turn and stare at me and I feel my face go red. "I was already shaved but I did it again to make sure everything was smooth."
"Very good, pet. Is your apartment ready for my visit?"
"It is, Master." You pay our check and we exit the place. You follow me in your car to my apartment and as I drive, I am so aware of your presence behind me that my thighs are damp when we reach my place. I feel the plug like a part of you inside me. I attempt to make more small talk as we walk to my door but you stop me. "The time for that is past. Please remain silent until I tell you otherwise or until I ask you a question. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Sir." Nervously, I fumble with the key for a moment before getting the door open. I lead the way in, click on the overhead light and step out of the way for you to enter. It is a very small apartment since I live alone. Off to our left is the kitchen, straight on past a bar is the living room, modern and comfortable. There is a plush couch, a small coffee table, a soft armchair and my entertainment center. The bedroom is off to the right.
"Show me you toys," you tell me. I quickly drop my purse and keys on the counter and move towards my bedroom.
"Yes, Sir. They are in here." You follow me, our feet leaving deep trails in the thick white carpet I so meticulously cleaned earlier in the day. I have displayed my toys on my double bed as you instructed. There are three different sized dildos, nipple clamps, leather wrist and ankle restraints, a blindfold, anal beads, a riding crop a cat o'nine tails and a flat, wide leather paddle. I stand patiently while you examine my collection.
"I'm going to have a seat in the other room," you say. "Prepare yourself in a way you think I will like, then come in and present yourself to me properly. Bring the nipple clips with you. And let your hair down... I want to see it brushed out."
"Yes, Master," I answer, wondering if those are to be the only words I utter the whole night. My palms are suddenly very moist at the thought. As you turn to leave the room, you take the riding crop with you. Since the first time we spoke of meeting, I've been debating within myself about what to wear. I know that you like stockings and I've bought four pair during the last week, trying to decide what to wear. Now, I'm almost frantic to make up my mind.
Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I know I can't waste time now. I take my favorite outfit of my top drawer, hoping you will like it as much as I do. It is white, every piece pristine, almost virginal. The lace panties I put back in the drawer, believing a Master would prefer to have his slave open completely to him. What I wear is a see-through lace push-up bra that comes just below my aureole, leaving the nipples exposed and erect above the fabric. I have a white lace garter that is contrasted well against the new summer tan of my flat tummy. And I pull the white lace, thigh-high stockings up my slender legs.
After brushing my long hair until it is satiny soft, I step into high-heeled white pumps and hurry out to you. You are sitting quietly in the armchair, the riding crop resting across your knees. I kneel at your feet, my head bowed so low that my hair cascades down over my face. "How may I serve you, Master?" I ask, as you taught me before. There is no answer from you for several minutes, but I feel your gaze on me like a feathery touch. I dare not look up at you at this point though I tremble to know if I have pleased you with my choice of garments. I feel your hand brush my hair away from my face and cup my chin to lift it up. From your touch, I expect your approval but when I see your face, I realize something is wrong. Just as you begin to speak, I realize what it is. I forgot to bring the clamps.
"I see you realize your error," you say, your tone ominous yet strangely comforting too. "But it's too late for that. Your choice of clothing is acceptable and I can tell that you took my preferences into consideration. But you will need to be punished for forgetting your toy."
Crestfallen, I try to lower my head again, whispering, "Yes Sir," but you hold my chin firmly. I raise my eyes to yours in an unspoken question and find your face just inches from mine. Instead of speaking, you press your lips lightly, almost chastely, against my forehead. "Do not fear me," you say in a deep, quiet voice. "I will not hurt you more than you can bear." My heart flutters and I nod trustingly.
"Stand and turn around," you instruct, pulling back from me now and making yourself comfortable in your chair. As I turn, I notice you pick up the riding crop from your lap.
"Spread your legs slightly, bend over and put your palms flat on the floor," I am told. I try not to hesitate as I carry out your command. It leaves me feeling very exposed and very vulnerable.
"Very good, pet," you say. "The plug is here and you are soft and bare as I require. But there is still the matter of your punishment. I'll give you the first part of it now."
I hear you stand behind me and see your feet placed at a right angle to mine. There is a strange "whirring" sound and I feel the riding crop slap hard against my bare ass cheek. I can't stop the cry that comes from deep inside.
