I thought I knew what I was getting into, but had no idea how far we would go...
My intention was to test the waters, dip my toe in the wading pool. Instead I surrendered to the world of seduction and submission as he submerged me--body, mind, and soul--into an ocean of eroticism.
Emails, texts, and hidden identities, were one thing. But now, coming face-to-face with the mystery man, the star of my fantasies, both terrifies and completely thrills me. If all goes according to plan, he will intensify the exquisite bond we share by transporting me to that glorious intersection between agony and ecstasy. If not, everything we've built will come crashing down around us, destroying my dreams in the process.
Either way, there is no going back. Because I want more. Much more.
And I am going to pay ...
He's my Dominant—my everything.
He's changed me, and I never want to go back.
But now, he's asking for too much.
Going too far.
It's out of my comfort zone--not who I am.
I'll swallow my pride and face my fears
But something tells me he has ulterior motives for this extreme request,
and I will get to the bottom of it.
That is, if I can pass his test.
She's changed me, and I never want to go back.
I tried to protect her.
Hell, I tried to protect myself,
but I fucked it all up.
I may be a sick bastard, but I would lay down my life for her.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to make every inch of her mine again.
I always tell her for every ounce of pleasure a price must be paid.
She’s already paid more than she ever owed.
Now it’s my turn to pay.
He’d left strict instructions for me to sit at the table he reserved for us. He requested I sit with my back to the entrance. This tricky move on his part allowed no way for me to see him as he entered. If his intention was to control and torture me, it was working. A loose strand of hair tickled my cheek, so I tucked it behind my ear.
I watched for the waiter, again wanting that drink, but as much as I hated being outside my comfort zone, I loved the naughty, decadent feeling I got from doing something simply because my Master told me to. When I submitted to his demands, I stepped outside my safe little world, the one where my ex-husband ignored me for years, where I felt inconsequential. With him I wasn’t invisible. He relied on me.
Sure, it was for things of a sexual nature, but to me, that was something, and I felt fulfilled for the first time in ages.
A few months ago, when I’d been supremely pissed at my cheating husband, I went online. I admit it, I’d been looking for trouble, which was mind-numbingly easy to find. I hadn’t intended to find a darker side of myself with needs that shocked me. I’d never meant to find someone. I’d merely been looking, searching—for what, I wasn’t sure.
What I did find was a whole new world of dominance and submission, self-inflicted pain as well as pleasure, and sexual satisfaction with a stranger. A man who reached out and touched me in corners of my soul I hadn’t known existed. We spoke every day, I performed sex acts upon myself at his command, and sent him reports on the intimate and sometimes humiliating tasks he gave me.
I was his submissive, and he was my Master, and every aspect of our relationship took place over the internet. I addressed him as “Sir,” but in our chats he went by the moniker, “MC.” We communicated via Skype, email, chats, and the occasional phone call, never seeing one another. That is, until today.
I had insisted we not use cameras, even though he implored me to do webcam “sessions.” My privacy was of the utmost importance to me, so I always refused. I’m a kindergarten teacher and couldn’t take the risk of being videotaped. So the only notion I have of what my Master looks like is a product of my imagination.
But today he flew to Houston to meet me in person. To have a real “play date.” In the flesh. A chill ran across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
Today I would finally meet the man who dominated me for the past few months. My stomach roiled with anticipation. What would he look like? Would it matter? Of course whatever he looked like, he wouldn’t be the “Master” I’d daydreamed about.
Things never worked that way. It would be like conjuring an image for the hero in a book. When a movie is made, the actor never matches the character in your head. It was always a disappointment.
I’d tried to prepare myself for that from the beginning. I never pictured MC to be a handsome movie star. Instead, I envisioned him as rather average, with salt-and-pepper hair and kind features. For some reason I pictured him wearing glasses, and possibly a beard.
In any case, it wasn’t his physical appearance that captivated me. MC awakened a primal response in me. He exposed my mind to a world in which I could be open about my sexual desires. A world where the wanton girl inside me was encouraged to come out and play, rather than squelched and pushed into a back closet where she had always lived. He controlled my sexuality, sensing my deepest, darkest needs. And it didn’t hurt that he made me feel cared for and cherished at a time when I desperately needed that.
My phone showed it was 5:12. Any minute now… The wait had been both excruciating and delicious at the same time—a perfect reflection of our relationship, a testimony to both pain and pleasure.
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