Part One: I know your name. I know where you live, what you do for a living, what you drive. I know what foods are your favorite, what music you listen to, and what turns you on.
I know you have a dog, for I heard him barking in the background the last time we spoke on the phone. I know you're close to your mother, and your father passed away 6 years ago.
We have had only 3 phone calls after talking almost constantly over the internet for the past 6 months. It has given my brain time to memorize the tones and cadences of your voice: A medium-deep baritone that makes me quiver in pleasure every time I hear it, makes my body anticipate all the things we have talked about doing to each other. (You mainly doing things to me, since you are the more dominant one.) You have answered every question I have asked with an even, patient tone.save one: you will not tell me what you look like.
When I asked you why, you said you prefer to stay mysterious in that department.I must admit, the curiosity is driving me insane. I have never been much for the blind date thing, but somehow this is different. Despite the chilly, late-October air I am wearing an outfit I would never wear for any other occasion: Black old-school combat boots, red and black striped socks that go just past my knees; the rest of my legs are covered in black fishnet and disappear under my black, pleated canvas skirt that has a big ol' kilt pin piercing the side.
(A nod to my Celtic roots) This skirt is so short that if I were to bend over at all it would give the general public a great view of what nature graced me with. Above the skirt is a black silky corset with straps, binding me and pushing up my breasts.
I have just enough make up on to accentuate my fair-complected face, scattered with freckles and make my blue eyes stand out. My long, red hair is up in a loose knotted bun. I consider myself to be a switch. I can be dominant when the mood calls for it, especially with another female. However, I must admit I am on the submissive side when it comes to men.
I love strong, dominant men. I love it when a man blazes a look into my eyes, grabs the back of my head and owns the kiss he gives me. I want to be teased, controlled and guided into bliss.
The cell phone chiming in my purse jars me out of my reverie. It is you, sending me a message. As planned, I am in front of the dance club we agreed to meet at. I have arrived early enough to make myself feel desperate, over-eager, and pathetic. I am excited and nervous, and the thump of the music from inside the club is matching beat for beat with my thudding heart.
I open my phone and stare at the message. I am inside, waiting for you My eyes open wide in surprise. I thought you would meet me outside the club.this puts me on edge, since I don't know what you look like. How am I supposed to find you? My excitement and nervousness goes up a notch, as I realize this is part of a game, part of your mystique. Well? What are you waiting for? Get your ass in there and find him!
Don't be a wuss! chides the voice in my head. I square my shoulders and walk through the entrance of the club. I am immediately overwhelmed by the place.
I have only been here once before, and it was a wild, drunken night with some friends I only half-remember.and I certainly don't remember it being so loud, or so dark. A slow, thumping dubstep version of Nine Inch Nail's "Closer" is echoing through the packed main room. There are couples elevated up in cages, and on the huge dance floor a packed crowd gyrates to the beat.
Bright, multi-colored lights are everywhere, the DJ a distant silhouette in the back. Private tables and booths ring the perimeter of the club, and a back-lit glass and marble bar dominates the opposite side. I look around the room. There are people of all kinds, though this club favors the kinkier side of the community.I see leather and PVC of all colors.
Buckles, chains, collars and cat-o-nine tails. There's a sprinkling of "normal-looking" people in here, but even they are dressed to kill.
There are several people who could possibly be you.but looking around, I just don't know. I decide to get a drink while I am figuring things out, so I walk up to the bar.
I am eyed by several people, male and female, but this doesn't bother me. As the bartender (a muscular, shirtless man wearing a collar) sets my drink in front of me, he eyes me. "You must be Rhea." I almost inhale the alcohol I am drinking and stare back at him. "Who's asking?" "You did come in here to meet someone, didn't you?" "Well, yeah-um" I stammer.
"He has been expecting you. You're to go in Private Room Three. Don't worry, your drinks have been taken care of, " he waves away my attempt at payment. "Um, OK.thanks, " I say, and make my way toward the back, past the restrooms and down a narrow corridor.
I arrive at a red door marked, PRIVATE ROOM THREE. My heart is thundering in my chest, I am about to meet you face to face. Should I knock? Of course not, stupid, says my brain.
He said he is waiting for you! I take a deep breath, and open the door. Part Two The room, though tastefully furnished, seems to be empty. I look around. There are two couches, one facing the other, each with their own side table. I cross to one of these and set down my drink.
There is erotic art hanging on the walls, lots of cushions on the floor, the couches.but no-one is here. I am confused. This was Private Room Three, right? I walk back to the door, open it and look to confirm this was indeed the right room, but before I can turn back around a silky blindfold, cool to the touch is placed over my eyes. I make a surprised noise; not a whimper, not quite a scream, but somewhere in between. "Shh, quiet down," croons a very familiar voice.
It's you, stealthy devil that you are. "I've got you, now," I can hear the smile in your voice. "Come with me." Still breathing heavily, I can feel myself being led back into the room, guided to somewhere in the middle of it, if I have my bearings correct.
Any attempt to speak is cut off by you shushing me. "Now, be a good little sub and stay quiet. let me have a proper look at you." Sub? I think. I guess I've been given my role in this. I sense you slowly circling me.
I can't see your eyes, but I can feel them all over me. I feel naked and exposed, but your voice is making my red silk panties damp. You run a finger across the back of my neck, making me moan. "Very nice. I am impressed with you, so far," you say. I can feel you step in front of me, the scent of you mixed with your cologne heady in my nostrils. You smell so good, and it's making me weaker by the second.
My hands are not bound, and I want to grab you and kiss you.but I sense that is not allowed. You take my hands and lead me over to one side of the room.
"Put your hands down in front of you," your voice has changed. This is a command, not a request. I comply, and my fingers touch fabric. It is the back of one of the couches.
"Hmm, let me see what we have here," You bend me over the couch, spreading my feet apart with your own. I can feel you slide a hand up the back of my leg, over the inside of my thigh and between my legs.
"Someone's excited," your fingers slip my now wet panties aside, and you start rubbing my bare pussy from behind.I start to breathe heavier and moan. It doesn't take long for your fingers to get slippery, and you thrust two fingers up into me, making me gasp in pleasure.
I can feel my clit harden, my walls getting tighter. All this anticipation and pleasure is gonna make me come, and I start bucking against your hand. I can feel your lips on my ear, your hardened cock pressing up against my ass.
"You like that?" "Mmmmhmm," is all I can say. I am about to peak in orgasm, and your hand is quickly removed, leaving me hanging and gasping. "Not quite yet," you say, but I can't help it. One of my hands is sliding down my panties to finish what you so skillfully started.and bound roughly behind my back with the other.
"Naughty girl," you chide. The hard crack across my ass is unexpected, and I gasp in surprise. Then the sensation of stinging pain on my buttock, mixed with my throbbing pussy makes my brain want to explode.
I have never felt this before and I absolutely love it. "Do it again," the whimper has escaped my lips before I can realize it. "Please," I beg.
The second crack (on the other cheek) makes me moan even harder. "Turn around." Your voice is hard, commanding. "Get on your knees," I am being roughly pushed down and an instant later your hard cock fills my mouth.
You are long and girthy, and it is difficult to suck, but relaxing the muscles in my throat helps. You have one hand on the back of my head, the other grips my arm.
You thrust in and out of my mouth, increasing the depth and the pace slowly. Just as I start feeling my jaw is going to unhinge itself, you give a long grunt and your come fills my mouth.
I have no choice but to swallow, I don't want it making a mess.and my mother did always say that spitting was unladylike. You remove your still-hard cock from my mouth and I can feel you smile down at me. "Good girl,"