Tonia Pt 01

Five and a half hours into this anxious, exciting, long-planned drive I'm still having second thoughts. What do I really know about this guy I met online? Sure, we've had many text and sext discussions and some phone calls. He seems normal and he definitely knows how to push all my buttons. I like having my limits pushed, even when it scares me a little. I mean, that's the whole point, right? You can't push your limits and stay in your comfort zone at the same time.

The GPS says I'll be at his place, a secluded cabin in the mountains, in less than fifteen minutes. His instructions were clear. Can I follow them? I guess I'll find out soon.

The driveway is long and winding, blocking any view of the cabin until I get right up to it. I've seen pictures and it is even more charming than I'd thought. He's sitting in a rocking chair on the long, wide porch, waiting for me. I shut off the engine and take a deep breath. I step out of my car, shut the door, and stand there for a minute. My heart is pounding so hard I swear my boob is bouncing from it. I guess this is it - now or never.

Following instructions, I pull my tshirt over my head and drop it right there in the driveway. I'm not wearing a bra - another requirement. I stand erect, letting him get his first real look at my tits. They're large and at 47 they aren't as perky as they once were, thanks to gravity. But I know they're fantastic and my large, dark areolas surround nipples that are already engorged.

He nods his head slightly, both in compliment and to signal he's ready for me to take the next step. I reach down and unbutton my shorts, slipping my hands around to my hips and sliding them down until they slip to my ankles. I lift my left foot out of the leg then kick the shorts free of my right ankle. My panties are blue as he required and I wondered if he could see the dark spot between my legs where the juices my throbbing pussy was dripping stained them.

Once again I stand, waiting. His gaze is so intense I feel as if he can see every pore of my skin. Finally he nods again and I hook my fingers into the elastic of my panties and slide them down and off. I'm standing completely naked in the driveway of a cabin hundreds of miles from home with a man I've never actually met in person. No other houses are visible in any direction but I do know his elderly neighbor could walk up unannounced at any time.

He raises his hand, forefinger outstretched, and twirls it in the signal to turn. I turn, presenting my back and ass to him. I know what he wants from the instructions he had sent me just before I began this journey. I also know that failure to comply will result in punishment, although he cagily avoided spelling out exactly what that might be. I enjoy being spanked, especially when a reason - real or fabricated - for the spanking exists. Part of me hopes desperately that I'll feel the sting of his hand or the crack of his belt this weekend while another part wishes just as strongly that I will exceed his expectations in every way and thus avoid any discipline. I suppose it is the dichotomy of those conflicting desires that defines the essence of all submissives.

I spread my legs to the width of my shoulders, lock my knees, and bend over. I balance myself by placing my hands on my legs. He has an unobstructed view of my ass and pussy. His seat on the porch is at least twenty feet away and I find myself wondering if he can see the juices I feel dripping down the inside of my thigh. I'm sure I've been this excited and wet before - I'm far from a virgin and have pretty much done it all - but I certainly can't recall when.

The thoughts running through my head are scattered and chaotic. Fear, excitement, desire. I can't concentrate on any one feeling for more than a few seconds before another takes over. I have no idea how long I've stood here, outside, naked, totally exposed. My legs begin to tremble but I don't know if that is from the emotional stress of the situation or muscle exhaustion. I cannot move until I'm instructed to, and so I must wait.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days later I jump, startled as I feel his hand on my pussy. He reaches down fully, the ball of his middle finger gently searching out my clit and caressing it lightly for a mere instant. Slowly his hand withdraws, that finger tracing my engorged, sopping labia. At the base of my slit he pauses and with excruciating slowness pushes his finger deep inside me. I can't stop the moan from escaping my lips even knowing that any sound or speech is expressly forbidden. He stops when he hears me and I hold my breath.

I feel his finger sliding out and then his hand continues its journey up and back. The same fingerpad that so recently caressed my clit now describes a circle around the taut rosebud of my anus. I hold my breath again, wondering if he intends to enter me there as well. As he rubs that orifice I'm convinced he plans to but instead he stops and removes his hand. I try to stand as still as I can but both legs are now trembling and my arms are tiring. I can't see him but and sense that he is still standing right behind me, looking and watching.

Smack! His hand lands on my right ass cheek and I jump but manage to bite my lip to keep from making a sound. He places his hands on my shoulders and pulls me upright, then turns me to face him. Taking one hand in his he gently leads me up the marble chip path to the porch. The marble bites into my bare feet sharply but I enjoy the more normal sensation. The intensity of the sexual experience I had just endured had reached an almost unbearable peak. When he spanked me I came, unable to stop myself, hopeful he wouldn't notice or, if he did, wouldn't mind. The pain my feet felt was a welcome break and I began to wonder if I would survive this weekend or collapse from over stimulation.