Day 01: Mystique's Experience
I have been writing erotica for a long time and I understand the best way to proceed is to jump right into the sexy stuff right away. However, this is a true story, and a basis must be established to understand what follows. If you bear with me through the first several "basis" paragraphs, the balance of the story should be its own reward. Thanks and enjoy, Orexis
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Day one
She finally came to me. It had taken a while. I was supposed to drive to her Missouri home from where I lived in Texas in August. I had come up with an excuse to pass on that trip because of a class I took in summer session.
I was back in college after, 22 years in the workforce as a highly paid computer consultant. The post 9/11 economy had wrecked my job prospects, so after two years of trying to get a consulting contract, I relented and went to work in a convenience store. After a couple of years at this new occupation, I had already decided I wasn't going to retire a convenience store manager. I thought on it and since I had wanted to be an attorney as a kid, decided to pursue a legal degree.
It seemed smart. The job of attorney seemed recession proof. In good times folks needed attorneys to prepare contracts and etc.; in bad times when they started stealing to feed their families, they needed representation in criminal court.
So in summer session during my junior year, of undergraduate study, I took a pre-law course that pointed out if I crossed state lines to train my slavegirl, I could potentially break several federal laws. Besides I knew nothing of the laws of the state of Missouri.
I thought it would be the end of us, for Nicole had made it clear if I didn't arrange a session soon, she would vacate her collar. But when I announced I wasn't coming to Missouri the second week of August, she just said that was fine, because she needed the extra hours at work to prepare for her own fall semester tuition. Then we started talking about her flying to me, rather than my driving to her. It made all the sense in the world.
I wasn't the highly paid computer consultant, where I would have "toted all the freight," any longer and Nicole had agreed to contribute at least $500 to the cause. I was contributing $1000. In looking into airfares, I noted that she could fly for less than $300 and save $200. Plus I wouldn't have the expense of driving up to Missouri. Even though I drove a pickup less than 5 years old and in good shape and had driven cross-country on many occasions, so the drive wasn't an issue, the price of gasoline was at an all-time high approaching $3.00/gallon. The trip would cost about $100 each way, so I saved $200, as well. Moreover, by her buying her own ticket and coming to me I had no worries in regard to breaking federal law and understood my states laws well-enough to know I wasn't breaking any of these. The only thing I had to do was make certain she was at least 18.
I had seen her on webcam and in pictures I choreographed and she gladly took and sent to me, and she could easily be 14. I had no desire to get involved with a minor or to break any laws. So I told her she needed a state issued ID or a certified copy of her birth certificate when we got together the first time.
The only other concern was her coming to meet a total stranger. We worked through these issues. I think she was falling in love with me from the IM chats we had on AOL and the phone calls we shared several times a week. I know I was certainly falling in love with her.
Nicole is a petite little girl. Only 18 when she first emailed me looking for a Master. Her father and brother had sexually abused her as a child. Both are in prison now, her father got 105 years, 50 years for her and 50 for abusing her brother, the other five for some other offense. Her brother got much less, because he was a juvenile. Only 3 years and even then he is only incarcerated on weekends. I guess if you are a kid, being in jail when your friends are partying is a pretty tough sentence?
But Nicole decided she liked "being taken" and "used" sexually, so she sought a Dominant (Dom) to use and abuse her in this manner. I am not a very large man at only 5'6", 140, and so her diminutive 4'11", 110 was perfect for the potentially physically demanding sex of this lifestyle. So she seemed a perfect fit for me. We would soon find out.
I had been a Dom/Master all my adult life, though not formally until later in life. Both my ex-wives were submissive in the bedroom and I had enjoyed them submitting, but I hadn't sought to formally introduce myself to the lifestyle until my late 30s. As is my way I studied the lifestyle, its tenets and precepts, thoroughly and learned what it was about and became a Dom. I had several submissives (subs) along the way, but became disillusioned with this manner of execution.
My idea was to provide for fantasy fulfillment for submissive women. I would spend large sums of money to provide for these ladies fantasies to be experienced. I came to refer to D/s as the "Lite Beer" form of the BDSM lifestyle. A sub was only required to be submissive until you approached a boundary, real or perceived, they felt they couldn't cross. Then they could "safe word" out. A lot of women are a totally submissive slut in their mind, but when the rubber meets the road they get squeamish. This had cost me a lot of money over the years, so I went back to studying again. I learned about the BDSM version of the lifestyle. I had purposely ignored this more stringent form as I wasn't into the bondage and torture the name connotes. But I learned that was still optional. I also learned of the Gorean "sub-culture" (for lack of a better term). Though I don't consider myself a Gorean Master, yet, as I don't understand enough, I do embrace a lot of this lifestyle variation's, philosophies.
In these more stringent forms, the sub, or "pitiful subbie" as I call them, become ideologically slaves, or slavesluts. They are no longer allowed to tell their Master "No" or to safe word out of an experience. The watchwords of the lifestyle regardless the form are, "safe, sane, consensual," and still exist, but they are just approached a little differently.
I went to great lengths to learn the fantasies of my slavegirls and made it clear they would live these. I also made it clear I owned them if they accepted my collar ("collar" is a term used to express submission to a Master or Dom). They could never tell me "no". The only acceptable responses to a command I gave was "Yes Master" and proceed or "Please explain Master." Then "Yes Master" and proceed once they understood. I had started a lot of relationships with pitiful subbies, who would take flight as soon as they learned what I required and the level of submission they must embrace. But I stuck to my guns through a lot of "dry years" knowing it was just a matter of time. Even to this day, I still accept the right (new to the lifestyle, etc.) subbies, but for the most part it is just slavesluts. Then I met Nicole.
She was new to the lifestyle but had a good idea of what she wanted, in general terms, at least. She didn't falter in her resolve when I told her of the ownership and complete submission to the point of slavery, I required. She did however "balk," as I call it, and vacated my collar after only a couple of months. This was likely in large part my fault, but she did know I was considerably older than she was, and this worried her some, as might be expected. She went to another Master's collar that was only five years her senior. He turned out to be a wannabe and she begged I reinstate her collar after a couple of months.
After I learned why she had left my collar and the other things I felt I needed to know to assure success (or as close as one can under the circumstances) this time, I re-collared her. Now she was coming to me for the first time. It had been nearly a year to get to this point, but I felt that length of time necessary, for trust must be built up for a women to turn herself over to the wiles and vicissitudes of a strange man. This is, after all, a cruel world that grew up in a helluva shape.
Now I stood in the baggage claim area of my city's airport and awaited her entrance. I would have been at the gate, but the added security after 9/11 prevented I enter the secure area of the airport.
I stood there, a single yellow rose in my hand, and awaited her entry into this unsecured part of the airport. She came through the revolving door early in the flow of passengers from her flight, meaning she had either been sitting near the front of the plane or was in a hurry to get to me. I recognized her immediately.
She was dressed just as I had instructed her to be, looking like a classy slut. Short skirt that just covered the tops of her thigh high stockings, yet would expose the lace tops when she walked, tee top, braless with stiletto heels. I assumed she wore the panties I ordered.
I had thought she would recognize me. I had sent her a picture early on in our relationship, and though it was an older picture I hadn't aged or changed that much. But she located and walked to the carousel where her baggage would appear and stood looking around, nervously.
I walked up behind her and spoke, "Hello sweetie." She would know it was me because of this affectionate appellation I used with most women. She whirled around to stand face to face with her Master for the first time. Her eyes quickly apprized the features of my face before she looked down in a gesture of submission.
"Hello Sir." I had told her to call me Sir in public and reserve Master for our private times. I could tell she was looking at my body, to determine I wasn't some fat slob old man who had tricked her into coming. I considered this wise while she was still in the relative safety of the airport. I also needed to assure my safety so I proceeded.
"I need to see your ID sweetie." She held it up for me having it out and ready like I had instructed. I scanned it quickly for the DOB. August 28, 1986, just as she had told me. So she had just turned 19.
I held out the rose to her. She took it and spoke again. A hint of nervousness in her voice.
The nervousness she would tell me later was because she had decided to go with me, and since I had accepted her ID I knew she was at least 18, there was no reason to refuse to allow her to. So the fear of the unknown had crept in. First the natural fear that though she trusted me, I could still be a murderer or hurt her in some way. Secondly, that she might not be able to measure up to my expectations, a fear she had expressed many times online.
