I arrive at the airport, make it through customs, and finally see your face...that amazingly handsome face that I have known now for months via the internet, by Skype, by voice but now, here you are, in person, at Heathrow. I have dressed as you have instructed, I have spent the better part of the last week preparing myself for you, I have done most everything that you have asked of me in the past three months. Yes, a few requests have taken some cajoling on your part, have been met with some hesitation on my part, but eventually, I came around, you convinced me with your long silences, your quick sign-offs, your stone-cold responses, to give in to what you asked. So, here we are today, in London, finally meeting face-to-face.
I am terrified and yet, I find that I am also more excited than I have ever been. The angel and the devil are having at it on my shoulder...but I cannot take my eyes off of you and we seem to be relaxing into what I had only dreamed of, really. There is a delightful chemistry between us, I believe, but just as often as I am sure that it is there, I find that it is gone just as quickly.
We get into your car. It is in immaculate condition, of course, and your hand brushes up against my leg. I nearly jump out of my skin. While reaching for the gear shift, you manage to non-chalantly touch the very top of my lace thigh-highs....the ones you told me, very specifically, to wear. I look up, excitedly, to meet your eyes, but you don't seem to notice that you have just touched me for the first time, ever, or that you have just sent shock-waves rushing through my entire body, similar to an electrical shock...or, do you? I suddenly feel foolish and silly, like a schoolgirl.
We have quite a long drive to your home, through the countryside, and I begin to relax a bit. We discuss politics and history and things "normalize" a bit, you seem eager to put me at ease, make me laugh. I feel a bit less like your "sub" and a bit more like myself again. You seem to pick this up like a barometer, and you suddenly interrupt me, changing the subject when I am in the middle of telling you a story. You quite bluntly ask me if I am clear on the parameters of the weekend. And there we are, back "on course", back to our roles. It is clear, you want me to feel somewhat relaxed but mostly, you want me to know "my place."
When we pull into your drive, you slowly come to a stop and reach over my lap to open the glove box. You pull out an exquisite, dark green, leather-type, box and you hand it to me. It is amazing to me and it does not go unnoticed that, you do this without touching me or my legs. You then put your arm around the back of my seat - still being very careful to not touch me. You begin to speak to me in a very clear and very direct manner, using a different voice entirely (which upon hearing makes me wet, immediately, uncontrollably and I know that you can sense this and I feel myself blush for the first time in years). You explain to me that once we enter your home, we will be following a slightly different set of rules. "They are as follows:"
"If you choose to put what is in this box, around your neck," you tell me, "you will be owned by me. 'No' will not mean 'no.' In fact, the word 'no' will not be tolerated at all. Your will won't matter in the least to me or anyone else in my home. The only thing that will matter is what pleases me...and, Alex, I believe you will find, that in time, that which pleases me will, also please you."
Your hand then moves for the car door, slowly, across my lap - this time brushing lightly across my pussy. My hips lift without my permission, and this time, your eyes are gazing at me and your face is just inches from mine, but you don't react, not in the least, you have complete control over your emotions. You just continue to casually open my door and then you, abruptly, turn away and get out of the car on your side.
I sit in my seat, absolutely stunned. i cannot bring myself to move, I can barely breathe, I try to swallow but I cannot. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes - a strange mix of anger and relief (what is that about?). I am so utterly confused that I cannot sort it out now. I want to scream, to slap you, to tell you to take me back to the airport. This is not at all what you promised me - this is not fun, it is far from sexy, and I want to go home...now!
Suddenly you are standing outside my car door and you have squatted down next to me so that your face is level with mine, and then you smile that amazing smile, that giving, gorgeous, charismatic smile...I melt, as you knew that I would, and your hand touches my chin. You bring it slowly towards yours and you close your eyes. You barely allow our lips to touch, they just brush, leaving me aching all over as you quickly stand up and look down at me.
"Now, Alex, you have a decision to make. Let's not waste any more of our time - mine or yours. I will see you to our room - or your room, as you see fit, depending on your decision. You can have an hour or so, to freshen up, make up your mind, give this some thought. I will expect you to groom yourself as we discussed, and, of course, wear what I instructed. You will find me by the fire downstairs and you will give me your answer then, in an hour."
