[I'd like to dedicate this story to the real Lady Susan - you know who you are. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend.]
*
As you instructed, My Lady, I am recounting, from my perspective, what occurred last Thursday evening. If it would give you pleasure to write it, I would be so grateful to read your perspective on that night.
I arrived at your door at 6:56 PM. Knowing that you value promptness and punish earliness (seen as uncontrolled impulse) as much as you do tardiness (an obvious demonstration of a lack of respect), I waited four minutes before ringing your doorbell.
You casually opened the door and I immediately presented you with the roses I bought for this occasion. They were beautiful flowers, but paled in your presence and I suddenly felt that perhaps I had insulted you by giving you something so seemingly ugly in comparison. You were quite gracious, though, and thanked me for the tribute.
"Come in, but remove your shoes at the door," you said. "I'll be in the kitchen putting these in water."
I come into the kitchen and am awestruck by your silhouette from the evening light coming in from the kitchen window. Before we met, I had fantasies of serving a stereotypical Domme - one dressed in a leather corset, with stiletto-heeled boots and the whole nine yards. You are nothing like that, and, truth be told, I couldn't be happier. You are dressed in a simple but attractive dress. Your make-up is done in a subdued and pleasing manner, and you wear simple two inch pumps - in black, not a garish red. You are, in every way, the very picture of class!
"Y-You look beautiful, Mistress," I stammer, nervously.
You turn around and walk toward me. Stopping right in front of me you look me in the eye (you have to look upward as I'm about eight inches taller than you) and say, "Thank you - but I told you, it's 'Lady', NOT Mistress. You, slave, are married, and with that in mind, 'Mistress' has a different connotation - like a kept woman. That would place you in control, and that's not the case, is it?"
"No, Mis... I mean, Lady."
"What am I to do with you? Is there a doubt in your mind who is in control here?"
"No."
"No, what?" You demand.
"No, Lady Susan," I respond immediately.
"That's much better. You will not forget again, will you?"
"No, Lady. I won't."
"Excellent. Are you nervous, slave?"
"A little, Lady," I admit.
"Why? I thought this is what you want. What is there to be nervous about?" You say with a smile.
"I'm not sure, Lady. I guess just not knowing what will happen," I reply with downcast eyes.
You pick up on the body language, and slap my face - not hard, just enough to get my attention.
"Don't you ever lie to me, do you understand? Now, I'll ask you again, what are you so nervous about?"
"I'm afraid I won't perform to your satisfaction, Lady."
"Well, let's get that out of the way right now. You probably won't - not the first time. This is a learned thing. Even someone who is naturally submissive, like yourself, needs to learn all the ins and outs. I DO want you to do your best, but I don't want you to be nervous about it. Tonight I'm basically taking measure of you. We will both be getting a feel for each other.
"Tonight will not be ideal - that takes time. That's why we spent so much time e-mailing prior to meeting. The more we know of each other, the better we will be together. But there's still the physical stuff that we need to get to know. The texture, the smells, the tastes, the way we both respond - all those things are difficult to learn through e-mail. That's what tonight is about.
"So, do your best, but don't worry. You'll get better as we go. Now, are you ready?"
"Yes, Lady Susan."
"Good. Come with me."
I think you're leading me to your bedroom, but instead, you bring me into the bathroom. You reach down and turn on the water, drawing a bath.
"Get undressed," you command.
After I comply, you make no comment on my nude form, but instead tell me to undress you, as you turn you back to me. I unzip your dress and begin to slide it down your body. I let the dress fall to the floor and reach for your bra, but you stop me.
"You will have more respect for my clothes, slave. I work hard to buy nice things. You will hang it up."
"I'm sorry, Lady."
"Go hang it up. My bedroom is the last room down the hall. Come back here, but do not re-enter this bathroom without permission. Your punishment for disrespecting my clothing is that you will have to wait longer before you see my naked body."
"I understand, Lady. I'm sorry."
I leave and hang up your dress as you commanded, and returned quickly. I knocked on the door, but you told me to get on my knees and wait for permission to enter. A few minutes later, you allow me to come in.
"But don't get up. Just crawl in here. You should learn to enjoy being on your knees. Don't you agree?"
"Yes, Lady."
I enter, and you have strategically created a bubble bath that allows me to see only your head, neck, and shoulders; your arms; and your knees because your legs were bent. Everything else was covered with bubbles.
I kneel at the side of the tub awaiting some kind of command. You just luxuriate in the warm water with your eyes closed allowing me to suffer. You know that I'm at a complete loss as to what I should do, if anything, without command or permission. So I simply kneel there and do nothing while you smile at my situation.
"On the counter, behind you is a blindfold," you finally say. "Put it on."