First Meeting

I am standing in front of your door, throat dry with a combination of nervousness and excitement. Being here is the culmination of months of lead-up, beginning with flirtatious chatting online and continuing to bouts of conversation bordering on cybersex. Then the inevitable hushed phone calls, the tantalizing thrill of imagining what might-be and fantasizing over it together. As we spoke, we moved closer and closer to this moment, reluctant to cross the line into reality until eventually there was nowhere else to go.

Biting my lip in anticipation, I have to fight not to break into a wide smile to relieve the tension, laughing a little at how giddy and silly I feel. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs, and let it out in a sigh. Reaching into my coat pocket, I pull out my cellphone and dial. Two rings and then you pick up.

"Are you here?" I can hear the predatory smile behind your voice, the anticipation matching mine.

"Yes, I'm here," I murmur, propping the phone against my shoulder as I dig around in my pocket to finger the blindfold that you sent me. I hear footsteps behind the door and I try to guess at what you might be thinking as you look through the peephole. I've dressed with care, following your suggestions: a black satin bra, clearly visible under a white silk blouse, and a loose black skirt that hangs to mid-thigh. Over the ensemble, I've worn a raincoat to avoid feeling self-conscious about being seen in public. I wonder if you're pleased by my appearance.

"Well, you know what to do now." Your voice is calm, authoritative, just like in all of our previous phone conversations, when I succumbed to your eloquence, surrendering to you. I fumble for a moment and pull the blindfold out, stretching it between my hands.

"Just a second, I need to put the phone down," I say, and then juggle it into my pocket. Hands now free, I raise the blindfold and wrap it around my head, tugging at the strings on either side to pull the fabric taut against my face. The cloth smells faintly like some kind of cologne and the soft cotton feels like it's molding itself to my eyes. I take a moment to adjust the edges for comfort and ensure that it's secure, then pull the phone back out and place it at to my ear, "It's done."

There's the click of a lock disengaging and the swishing sound of a door being dragged along carpet. I experience a moment of terrified panic, the thought popping into my head that I could be at the wrong door. After a moment, I hear your voice in stereo, both on the phone and to the front. Relief floods through me, even as my nervousness ratchets up by a few degrees. "You came," I hear you say, the welcome in your voice obvious. I smile back cautiously, and can't suppress a startle of surprise as you take my phone from me and grip my hands in yours. You tug me gently, guiding me across the threshold, and I shuffle forward. "Come on in, don't worry, I won't let you hit anything," you say reassuringly as you lead me into your apartment, "Why don't we have a look at you?"

A few steps in and you pause, releasing my hands. A moment later, I can hear the door close behind me and then the muffled sound of your footsteps as you circle me like a shark. After you've done a complete circuit, you say quietly, "Take your shoes and coat off."

I hesitate, then timidly work my arms out of my coat, folding it over my arm and kicking my shoes off. The weight of the coat disappears, then you resume your hold on my hands. Your palms feel slightly calloused and your grip is warm and firm. I count ten steps, a turn to the right, then six more. You drop my hands and I'm left standing by myself, unsure of where I am.

There's the slight sound of movement and then I hear your voice from behind me, asking quietly, "Before we start or do anything, my dear, what are your safe words?"

My voice sounds subdued and meek next to yours, "Green for go, yellow, red for stop."

"Good girl," you say, sounding amused, "And right now?"

My cheeks flush with heat as I blush, then mumble, "Green for go."

I have a second to wonder why you even asked when I'm sure that we both know the answer, then I feel you behind me, a presence that is almost, but not quite, close enough to touch. All of the things we talked about over the past few months rush to the forefront of my mind. I don't know whether to lean back against you or to cower away. Your hand closes on my hair, grabbing it firmly and yanking my head back. I gasp at the suddenness of the pain and close my eyes under the blindfold, the sensation sending a jolt of excitement through me and creating an immediate dampness between my legs. The air feels electric with tension as you slowly pull, forcing me to arch backward.

Your breath is hot against my ear and your whisper feels like a caress, "The line between fantasy and reality is such a problem for you, isn't it? And how are you feeling about right now? Nervous? Excited? Afraid?" There is a pregnant pause while you tighten your grip, forcing a faint whimper from me, "We both know that the fear is a big part of what turns you on-that and denial."

Rather than responding, I raise my hands to try to pry yours loose, belatedly struggling against your grip. In response, you shake me painfully and growl, "Hands down. NOW."

Once I've dropped my hands back to my sides you return to speaking, almost crooning, "Let's go over the rules for today. First, you will not speak unless spoken to. When you do speak, you will always address me as Sir or Master." Your voice is calm, almost dispassionate. Your other hand brushes against my chest and I feel a tug as you begin unbuttoning my blouse. The feel of the air against my skin makes me shiver and my building desire seems to fill my stomach with butterflies.

Once the blouse is fully unbuttoned, the fabric parted to reveal the satin of my lingerie, you continue, "There are a few exceptions." Your hand cups one of my breasts through the bra and I can feel my nipples hardening in reaction. "You're free to beg at any time," you say, and your fingers dip under the cloth, taking hold of my nipple and rolling it between your fingers.

You pinch viciously for a moment, eliciting a gasp. I can hear the smile in your voice in response to my reaction, "You can, of course, use your safe words at any time." My breath comes in short little pants and my knees feel weak. I feel an overwhelming urge to moan and to start begging, but I bite my lip to keep any sound from escaping. A sense of humiliation fills me as I think about what you're doing to me, without even fucking me.

You lean in close again, your tongue darting into my ear briefly, and I try to jerk away, "And just for you, since we both know how much it turns you on to say no and to have someone take what they want anyway, you can tell me to stop...but we both know that I won't, and that this will end with you begging-but if you want to pretend, I'll play along."

A pulsing starts deep inside me and I can feel my cunt clenching hungrily, wishing it was filled. I think to myself that I shouldn't have been so honest over the phone and I wonder if you're seeing right through me. Can you tell how wet I am? How even though I'm not saying anything, my body is begging for you to fuck me? The worst part is that I'm working myself into an aroused frenzy after barely being touched, and you know it-you're using it against me.

Your voice brings me back to what's happening, your fingers still tormenting my nipple as you ask, "Are these rules clear?"

I make a small helpless whimpering noise, shivering with anticipation as I respond softly, "Yes sir."

"Good girl," you say approvingly, releasing my hair. I straighten, disappointed by the loss of contact, only to be shoved roughly from behind. I sprawl forward, landing on the soft cushion of a mattress and I struggle to get my bearings.

"Up on the bed now, pet," amusement colors your voice. I scramble onto the bed, trying to be graceful, to please you, and your voice follows me, "Now kneel for me."

I crawl until I'm away from the edge of the mattress, then push myself up, settling my weight back on my heels. I spread my knees apart, resting my hands on my thighs, and I tilt my head, trying to locate you by sound.

"Spread a little bit more," you murmur, and I shift to respond. After I've made the adjustment, you continue, "Good girl, now, hands behind your back."

I clasp my hands behind me and fight back a blush as the smell of my own wetness becomes apparent.

"This is how I want you to present yourself to me, whenever I tell you to kneel. Is that understood?" Your weight settles on the bed and I feel your hand caressing my hair, tracing down my cheek. In response, I turn my head to kiss the back of it before whispering, "Yes sir."

"You know," you say conversationally, cupping my face and lifting my chin, "I'll bet you've been thinking about what I'm going to do to you all week, fantasizing every time we had phone sex, teasing me with how much you would enjoy submitting to me." Your hand disappears and I feel you shift, moving behind me. Next, you take one of my hands and tug at it, pulling it away from my body. A broad band of leather wraps around my wrist and I hear the jingle of metal as you fasten the cuff shut.

"You really are such a tease on the phone," you reflect as you cuff my other wrist. There is a clink and I find that you've fastened them together, pinning them behind my back. You give me a gentle push to make me raise my weight off of my ankles and a moment later I feel you slide more leather around them.

"I've been looking forward to giving you what you deserve for all of that teasing," you drawl as you finish with the fastenings. You push my feet apart, holding them spread with your leg and I can feel my skirt brushing at my upper thighs. I hear more clinking. When you move away and I try to re-cross my ankles, I realize that you must have attached a small spreader bar, making it impossible. I settle my weight, my backside coming to rest on the smooth wood of the bar. Your hand brushes my hair back, holding it to the side for a moment. I feel the soft caress of more leather on the back of my neck. The unmistakable scent is tantalizing as you lift my chin again, collaring me. The weight of a cold metal ring falls to hang down against my collarbone, raising goosebumps.

"Very nice," you say proprietarily and I can feel your eyes on me. "I'll bet you're sopping wet right now, aren't you slut?" you ask abruptly.

I hesitate, then my cheeks flame as I mumble out the lie, "No sir."

There's a smirk in your voice and you laugh mockingly, "No? Shall we find out?"

Inside my head, I'm screaming that I want you to take me, to use me, but I feel a spark of defiance. The words slip out of my mouth as a taunt, defiant and daring you to do your worst, "No sir."

Your hand moves down, tracing its way slowly across my stomach and then lifting my skirt to settle between my legs. As you make contact with the bare skin of my mound, you say approvingly, "No underwear? You are eager, aren't you?" You slide your fingertips between my lips, parting them, and I can feel my wetness coating them as you tease me open, not quite entering me. You bring your fingers up to my cheek, smearing it with my own juices and we can both smell my arousal. My cheeks burn as you murmur, "Lying little whore."

Your hand moves back down, toying with me and spreading my juices, making it obvious to us both just how aroused I am. You trace your way up to my clit, circling it teasingly and I moan, trying to shut my knees but stopped by the restraints. Your other hand takes a rough hold of my hair again and you flick at my clit, making me jerk and gasp. Continuing to fondle me with your thumb, your other fingers probe at my slick entrance and I unconsciously thrust my hips forward, trying to force them in. You move with me, keeping me from impaling myself, and ask archly, "Looking for something, slut?"

I mumble a no and you chuckle, "Your body certainly seems to be, it knows that you're here to be used." Your fingers slide into me with no resistance and I shudder as you spear me on them. Each time you do a slow circle of my clit, the walls of my pussy clench around your fingers and I make a small jerking motion. As you continue, I begin to moan as I feel myself helplessly starting on the slow climb to orgasm.

"What was it that you were saying on the phone last week, about certain parts being sensitive?" you ask. I have only a moment to brace myself and then your tongue is in my ear, your hand still in my hair, holding me locked in your grip. My reaction is instantaneous, it feels like I've suddenly plugged into a live electrical socket and I go rigid, then start bucking uncontrollably. My mind blanks and I can hear myself making wordless whimpers of protest as I thrash around, fucking myself on your fingers.

You toy with me for several minutes, alternating between licking, sucking, and blowing into my ears when it looks like I'm slowing down to trigger a fresh burst of struggles. After I've exhausted myself and my responses are reduced to soft mewls for mercy, you pull away. I feel my hair being released and your fingers slide out, leaving me achingly empty. "Well, that was fun," you say, and I try to gather my thoughts and compose myself.

There's a click and the binding between my wrists and ankles vanishes, leaving my movements unhampered. I can feel you moving off the bed, then your voice comes to me from my right, "Now, show me what you've been doing while we've been on the phone. On your knees, shoulders and head down on the bed. I want to see the way that you play with yourself when you're imagining me fucking you. Give me a show. Let me see how much of a cockwhore you are."

I fall forward onto my hands and knees, then lower my breasts to the mattress. I turn my head to press my shoulders and cheek against the sheet and pause there, displayed for your pleasure. My skirt slides forward, bunching at the waist to expose my ass, and my left hand finds its way between my legs to my clit. As I begin to play with myself, I hear the sound of a zipper being undone behind me and I wriggle enticingly, envisioning your cock.

My already swollen clit responds quickly to the attention and as I continue to play with it, my mind goes back over all of the fantasies we've shared-all of the conversations we've had about you fucking me, taking me and forcing me into submission.

My mind stutters when I realize that now that I'm here, actually showing myself off to you, you're finally in a position to make all of those fantasies a reality. The thought brings me over the edge and the walls of my pussy tighten, grasping after your missing fingers. I cry out as I orgasm, my right hand clutching at the bedsheet and my hips rocking back and forth in frustration.

"Feeling a little empty? Wishing you had a nice cock to fill that hungry little hole up?" you taunt from behind me.

I voice a moan and drop my hand from my clit, wanting you to fuck me but unwilling to say it. "No sir," I mumble, voice muffled against the mattress.

Your voice grows colder, angry, "I didn't say to stop, slut. Again-we need to teach you how much you need to be fucked."

My tongue flicks out to lick my lips and I return my fingers to my pulsing clit, the nub slippery with my wetness. I feel like I must be dripping on your sheets and I bring myself to the edge again quickly, picturing you watching me. I think about you taking my mouth, fucking my ass, and my breath starts coming in short little gasps as I struggle to hold it back.

"Cum for me," you command, and I immediately crest over into my second orgasm. Again, my pussy clenches around nothing and I make a frustrated whimpering sound, hips rocking. I spread the lips of my cunt open, trying to tempt you into taking me, showing off my need.

"Still not begging? Maybe you need a little bit of incentive," you say and your weight settles behind me. I feel the head of your cock at my entrance, but when I try to slide back onto it you use my hips to hold me to a distance, leaving me with just the tip. I sob quietly and you laugh, "Again, whore."

I'm going mad with need as I build again toward orgasm. Your cock presses against my entrance like a promise. As I get close for the third time, the words come flooding out from between my lips. I beg mindlessly, "Please fuck me, fuck me, I need your cock, I need it, fuck this cunt, I need you to use me, please sir, I need it..."

"Cum for me," you growl and shove your cock into me, forcing out a startled cry as you impale me on the full length in a single thrust, meeting no resistance. There's a jarring impact as your hips slam into mine and I whimper. I hear your voice behind me, saying, "I knew you'd beg for it," and the ecstasy from being filled has me moaning in agreement, timed to your thrusts. You continue to pound into me, growling, "You're such a hungry little bitch in heat, blindfolded, helpless as you're being fucked, willing to show off how hot you are for it to anyone."

I hear your voice shift to my side but the cock behind me keeps pumping into me. Startled, I freeze in time to hear you croon, "So much of a little whore that you'll take any cock, won't you? Even a complete stranger's." The hands on my hips hold me steady, refusing to let me pull away and I feel your hand grab the back of my neck, holding me down. My hands fly up to grapple at your wrist and I buck, trying to struggle free. Pinned and helpless between the two of you, I start to plead, "No no no, please, don't, let me go, please Sir, I'll do whatever you want."

There's no letup as the stranger keeps fucking me, his cock drilling into the welcoming wetness of my cunt. You say dryly, "Doesn't his cock feel good? You seemed to be enjoying yourself a second ago. You think he's going to stop after seeing you show yourself off like that? Orgasming in front of him? Begging for cock? Desperate to get that slutty little hole filled? Now show him how much you appreciate what he's doing. Again." Your voice holds an edge and a thrill of fear shoots through me. I move my hand back between my legs and begin playing with my clit once more, tears of humiliation leaking out from under my blindfold.

Your voice continues implacably, "Now every time you see a guy, you'll be wondering, is this the one who knows what it's like to fuck me? Does he know what my tight little cunt feels like? Does he know how hot I am for a good fuck? How much I want to be used and what I sound like when I'm begging for it?"

Your hand keeps a tight grip on my neck and I feel your other shove its way between the mattress and my breast, cruelly pinching and tugging my nipple. I feel like an animal, like a bitch in heat getting farmed out by my owner. You muse, "Maybe I'll have a little poker party some time and invite all of my friends, including the guy who's using you. I'll tell him that if he can get you alone, he's free to shove you against the wall and fuck you senseless again. You'll spend the entire night with that hungry little cunt dripping wet with anticipation, wondering when you're going to get bent over."

I'm making little helpless noises now, listening to you and picturing it. My cheeks are burning with humiliation and desire. I feel totally powerless, teetering on the edge of orgasm. You give my nipple another harsh twist and say, "Cum, slut."

I orgasm on his cock, the walls of my pussy tightening around him while my voice pours out a torrent of, "Please, please, please," without knowing what I'm begging for. He slams his cock home one last time and I feel him jerk as he orgasms, his hands leaving my hips to slap me roughly on the ass. I flinch and moan entreatingly into the mattress, "Please Sir, please fuck me, I want to belong to you."