Her throat was tight, her mouth was dry, and she paced anxiously outside the hotel room, waiting for him to open the door. She had no yet knocked on the door, she was much too nervous yet. Dressed in the clothes he had told her to wear - opaque white blouse, see thru bra, lily white thong, short black skirt, white garter belt, and white stockings - she was early. She could be early, that was something he did not mind. Tardiness was something unacceptable. She arrived at the hotel an hour before the appointed time, but she was far too nervous to go directly to his room. She spent some time walking in the hotel shops and pacing the hall outside his room.
"What if he doesn't like me? What if I don't like him? What happens if there's no chemistry?" All valid questions that ran through her mind as she wasted time. "If if he asks me to do something I don't want to? What if I do something he doesn't like, will he slap me hard? Will he draw blood? Will he leave marks?"
It was now five minutes before she was to be in his room, and she knew she had better knock. She took one last deep breath, closed her eyes, and wrapped her knuckles on the faux wood. There was a brief moment where her heart skipped a beat as she waited for him to open the door. Her eyes were still closed when she heard the locks being removed. She slowly opened them as he opened the door.
"Welcome my love," his medium deep voice said as he extended his hand to take hers. "Come in, beautiful," he said as she walked inside. He closed the door quickly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I have waited too long for this moment," he said before kissing her cheek. "Too long."
Her name was Melinda Thompson, and this was the first time meeting him. Though they've known each other for over five years, it was only through the internet and a few phone calls. They were first friends: Melinda meeting him in a big beautiful woman chat room while she was married. It was not until she was separated that he discovered her lifestyle, the lifestyle they were going to experience: she was submissive.
It was during the talks with him that Melinda found herself wanting, craving a few of the curiosities she had, more specifically, over the knee spanking. She had read several stories involving older women allowing their husbands, their boyfriends, their Dominates, to hit their naked bottoms with their hands, paddles, and other items. This was something Melinda liked that she didn't admit to herself for a long time, but now, with the talks with him, she's more than admitted.
His name was John Everett. A 40-year-old bookseller and part-time writer, father of one. He and Melinda were friends, even after the little falling out they, and others, had when their mutual chat room broke up. They did not speak to one another for a while, a fact they both blamed on her ex. But that was the past, and now they were talking again. They were also discovering sides to one another neither knew had.
They needed to meet, that was something they always knew. There was a sexual chemistry they had, and it needed to be explored. It was fate that allowed John to be in her area. It was a week before the event that he sent her an e-mail that changed their relationship.
They exchanged daily e-mail, telling one another of their day, their family, what they dreamed, what they thought. But this one piece was different. Melinda had shared with John a Submissive Check List she filled out for a prospective dominant - one she eventually did not meet. John used the information and wrote to her, asking, no, telling her what to wear.
As a good submissive, Melinda obeyed.
"You look lovely, Pet," John said as he took her hand and directed her to a chair in the middle of his suite. He received a few rewards for being a lead bookseller and one was he received a suite when he attended conventions. "I am pleased to see you are wearing as I directed." His smile was warm and genuine. It warmed her to have pleased him.
"Thank you," she whispered. She was nervous: she couldn't remember if she was permitted to answer compliments.
"You are most welcome, Precious." He kissed her cheek again. She was allowed to accept those compliments from him. She smiled and looked away, blushing like a schoolgirl.
"Has Precious not been complimented much?" He took her chin in his hand and pulled her head up. He looked her in the eyes, those eyes that her pictures did not do justice. They were bluer than he had imagined. They were sexier than he had hoped. He was taken aback: he had an electric shock rush through his body.
"No," she quietly answered as she averted her eyes from his. She didn't want to look into his dark brown, deep, mysterious eyes again. Melinda looked into them as she entered and lost her breath. It is written that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Melinda saw into his soul and was shocked to find a caring soul. She was not expecting him to be so.
"You'll be told so much this weekend," John said as he released her face and walked to his bed. She glanced down at her feet before realizing that he wanted her to be proud, to hold her head high, and to smile. She looked straight ahead and smiled.
"But before we do anything, I'm hungry. Shall we go down to the restaurant and get something to eat?"
As he sat, John smiled at his friend. He had always lusted after her, and had had the idea of one day being in bed with her, but never had he ever thought of her as a submissive. Yet, here she was, in the clothing he had chosen, ready to later obey his desires. He quietly thanked the stars for his luck.
"You know I've always had a thing for you," he said as they waited for their orders to come. It had been several minutes since the waitress left and he could sense Melinda wanted to hear something from him.
"Yes, I know," she coyly said as she looked around, wondering if any of the other diners were thinking of what the two of them were going to do later. She silently laughed as she thought ‘To hell with them, I want to do this.'
"Good, good," he answered as he reached for her hand and grasped it as lovers do. She inhaled quickly, caught off-guard by this public show of emotion and affection. He smiled and squeezed her hand tighter, quietly showing her he meant what he had said and was about to say.
"I can't wait until we're alone again," she said as the waitress came back with their drinks. John thanked her for her service and leaned back, not to watch the young girl walk away, but to observe the others in the restaurant as they looked, not at him, but at Melinda. She was hot looking, he knew it, and wanted everyone else to know it.
He smiled broadly. "In due time, my Precious. Now let's eat."
Dinner was over and they retired to his room for an aperitif. He took her hand and directed her to a chair. She was about to speak but he placed a finger over her lips.
"Please," he whispered before walking to the room's bar. He took out a wine glass and looked back at her. He remembered she does not drink alcohol anymore and reached for the orange juice. "You'll need this for what's ahead," he said as he walked to her.
"Thank you," she whispered as she took the glass.
"Drink up, my Pet. We have a lot of things to explore." John moved to the bedroom and turned on a light. He stayed shortly before coming out. "Come in here, Pet," he commanded. Melinda placed the empty glass on a table and walked. As she passed him, she allowed her hand to rub across his chest. Though this could have been a show of defiance, he allowed it. He liked it.
"I love that you wore as I had asked," he said as he helped her sit on the edge of the bed. She was nervous again, her breathing began to labor. Thoughts of displeasing him entered her mind. She was wondering if this was a good thing, to meet him like this.
"I am so glad you are wearing those clothes," he said as he stepped back. "But as you may have thought, I only wanted you in those clothes in public. Now that we are alone, I want them off. So, please, stand and do as I command." With those words, he helped her onto her feet and took her place on the bed.
She knew he was going to tell her to do this, she had told herself it was going to be okay, but it still did not make her comfortable at this moment. She inhaled and closed her eyes. For a moment, she thought about running out of the room, out into the hall, and into the elevator. Those thoughts fleeted and she began to unbutton her blouse. She opened her eyes and saw him staring, a big smile on his face. She stopped and walked to him. She took his head and playfully held it in her cleavage. She sighed with relief when he laughed.
"Very cute, Beautiful," were his words when she stepped back and finished removing her blouse. When it was off, she tossed it at his feet and pushed out her chest. Her breasts were straining against the bra, the added action almost causing a rip. She smiled as she went to work on the skirt.
"Lovely," he said as he leered. He wanted to jump off the bed and rip off the remaining clothing. He wanted her, needed her, but restrained himself. He needed her to show herself, slowly. He needed her to be able to trust him.
Her heart was pounding as she unhooked the button and slowly pushed the zipper down. Thinking quickly, she turned around to show him the thong. She remembered a discussion they had once, that he loved the female bottom, and that it aroused him greatly. A tune popped into her mind and she wiggled to the beat.
Melinda could hear him breathe. She smiled and began to move her ass a little more exaggerated. She closed her eyes as she let the skirt drop to the floor. Still thinking of a song, she stepped out of the clothes and turned quickly. She caught John staring, staring at where her ass once was. She smiled broadly, as he caught and composed himself. He sat straight and beckoned her to him.
