This is a fictional first-hand account of a Daisy's first real-life meeting with her Dom. Prior to this point they had been in daily contact. She had travelled as far as online training could take her, and her Master was eager to test her in real life.
Daisy's account
I prepare carefully, showering and shaving. I dress in the prescribed clothes, makeup, stockings and shoes. The eggs carefully inserted, covered by a tiny pair of panties to keep them in place, and I am ready to leave.
The train takes me to Waterloo, and I walked to the bus stop to catch the bus to Kings Cross; the eggs moving irresistibly with each stride. The bus is on time and I climb quickly to the top deck, well aware of the eggs bulging from my pussy with each step.
Oh God this is madness, what am I doing? I am travelling through central London to meet a man, who I only know online, and who will most likely beat me and do things I have never dreamed of by the time morning arrives.
I alight at the station and gaze around looking for the platform that your train will arrive on. It is a bit of a walk, but not too bad; I should be there as the train pulls in.
I see you down the platform, and quickly walk towards you smiling a hello and leaning in to kiss each cheek. As I go to straighten up, your hand grips my elbow and you kiss me hard, full on the lips. I am startled, but part my lips to allow your tongue to thoroughly explore my mouth.
"Good girl daisy" you say, pulling back. I stand up and back away from you a little, so that you can inspect my appearance.
"Yes, that will do." I smile. "You have done everything I asked?" I nod the affirmative. "I will, of course, check that the eggs are in place."
"Yes Sir." I manage to squeak.
"Good! Now, I am hungry, let us go and eat," you mutter and set off at some speed across the concourse. I follow, teetering on tiny heels.
You hail a cab and give an address. I sit, perched uncomfortably on the tiny pull down seat behind the driver and you face me. The cab moves off and I feel your hand on my knee, you push my skirt up exposing my stocking tops. You caress the soft white skin of my thighs and continue up.
"Open daisy," you command. I part my legs for you, and you roughly shove the film of fabric aside and push a finger into my pussy, where it immediately hits the hard silver ball. I gasp at the sudden intrusion, conscious of where we are. My cheeks redden with shame. You spend a couple of moments stroking the soaking hot flesh before pulling your hand away and smoothing my skirt down.
"Open your mouth" you demand. I immediately comply and your wet fingers are placed in my mouth.
"Lick." You command. I suck them clean swirling my tongue around each finger, the taste of my arousal strong in my mouth. You smile. "I am pleased thus far daisy."
My relief is complete.
The taxi stops near Covent Garden and we exit. You gesture to a tiny bistro and we enter. You have obviously been here before and are warmly greeted by the Maitre D. We are directed to the back of the restaurant, to a very private area and without you saying a word a bottle of wine is placed before you.
"daisy, I need you to go to the ladies room and remove the eggs and your panties. Place this in your rectum." You hand me a clear butt plug of some proportion.
I rush into the toilets. Once inside the tiny cubical I immediately set to my task. My panties are soaked and the eggs pull out with a sucking wet plop. They are hot to the touch and so slippery wet. I dump them in the tiny hand sink and hold up the butt plug. You have not given me any lube I realise to my horror. This is a large plug, it will definitely need lubing. I spend some time inserting the butt plug into my dripping pussy to lube it enough to slide home. It is bigger than I anticipated, and I need to spend some time gently fucking my ass pushing it deeper with every thrust, feeling my anus stretching wider, painfully wide, until it finally slides home. I breathe a huge sigh of relief and touch the base to make sure it is firmly in place. With the eggs washed and safely deposited in my bag, I walk back to the table. You, of course, want to check, I stand with my back to you and you slide your hand up my skirt again, giving the plug a firm pull.
"Mmm, a snug fit." You murmur, once again letting your fingers slide into my now empty, slick, wet pussy.
While I was busy in the ladies room, you had ordered lunch; a beautiful velvety fillet steak with a rich brandy and pepper sauce is delivered. We eat and drink, chatting companionably. At the finish, you settle the bill and we walk outside into the bright early afternoon sun. You raise your hand to flag a passing black cab. This time, we go deep into Soho to a little blacked out sex shop. We go in and browse around the toys, selecting a few to purchase.
I see you talking to the proprietor. A small and creepy looking man with tobacco-blackened fingers and greasy hair. He is nodding and gesturing to a door. You tell me to follow the man, and I find myself in a small, dark backroom that has a large TV screen and several pieces of dungeon equipment. The man smirks at me, "You have an hour, and I will pop in later to see how you are doing."
I almost balk as he leaves the room. "daisy!" You exclaim, sharply sensing my growing panic. "Remember yourself."
"Yes Sir." I murmur, I feel panic beginning to rise inside, my hands become damp and my pulse races.
"Now, I wish for you to present to me. You can place your clothes on this chair, but leave your stockings and heels on."
His words have a calming effect, this ritual part of our online routine. I quickly strip off, trembling with fear and excitement, and stand naked before you for the first time. My hands clasped behind my head and my legs apart. You put your hand between my legs, this time thrusting two fingers hard into my pussy and fucking.
"Mmmm, such a good, wet, slut you are daisy." Your other hand goes to my breasts, and I feel you tweaking my nipple hard. My breathing is ragged, I cannot believe that in such a short time, I am on the point of orgasm.
"You are a hot little slut daisy, I have some surprises planned for you." As you speak, the door swings open and the man walks in with a bag, full of different equipment. I can see him taking in the scene; his eyes lingering over the streams of juice flowing over my thighs. I blush furiously at the intrusion, somehow unable to scream at him to leave.
"I am going to have to keep the door open, fire regulations, you know." He tells you, his eyes running over my body again.
"Of course," you reply, "I will need your assistance in restraining her."
