The Fantasy Begins II

Check-in is smooth, and the room is nice.  i like having a microwave and refrigerator, even if i probably won’t use them.  I set my suitcase on the ottoman and open it, ready to unpack.  But i pause – what did the text say?

Glancing at my phone – oh, yes.  It’s pretty clear.

When you get to your room take off your clothes.  Then text me.

It doesn’t say anything about settling in or unpacking.  i slip off my shoes, always a pleasure.  Then my t-shirt.  i hesitate with my hands on my waist, ready to pull down my black capri pants.  The sliding closet doors are mirrored, i can see my reflection. In my not-fancy black bra and pants, thicker through the waist than i want to be, i look at myself.

i want to hurry up and get undressed.  i want to do what he said.  But i stop to look at myself in the mirror, at my eyes.  They are hazel, more green than brown tonight.   “Do you really want to do this?” i ask them.  Raising my eyebrows, feeling the question.  Then i grin.  “Yep.”

And i finish stripping.

Naked, i pause.  Ok, now i’m supposed to text him – text him what?  I start punching in letters –

“i’m nak

and then i erase that, he said text him, he didn’t say i had to announce i was naked.

 “Hi!”  🙂

i wait, gazing at my phone.  And wait.  It seems like forever, a minute passes.  A bit more.  i text again:

“I’m in the room now.”

And i wait.  Damn it.  Why isn’t he answering me? Am i supposed to do something else?  Should i just go ahead and start getting ready?  Why is he taking so long?  Damn it.  Maybe 5 minutes have actually gone by, it feels like for-ev-er.  i can’t resist.

“I took off my clothes.  What am i supposed to do now?”

I have barely hit “send” when my phone rings – but it’s not the phone, it’s Facetime. Omg.  This man i’ve never met wants to Facetime with me while i’m standing here naked.  i hesitate -but just for a second.

i answer the call.  “Hello,” i say, and my voice sounds uncertain to my own ears.  He’s looking at me, the face i’ve gotten to know on my screen.  He looks serious.  Intent.

“Three minutes,” he says.  “You waited three minutes before you had to text again.  For the third time.”  He voice is low key, he’s not upset, he’s just noticing.  Just letting me know.

i’m a little bit embarrassed – “It seemed like a long time,’ i say, and then, with less certainty, “i didn’t know what you wanted me to do.”

He grins, “And couldn’t wait to find out.  That’s ok.  You agreed to follow my directions tonight, are you still willing to do that?”

“Yes – yes, of course i am,” enthusiastic now, i’m ready to take action, ready to please.  Just don’t make me wait around for 3 minutes!

“Then let me help you learn some of the patience you’ll need to be able to please me,” he says, and his voice is silky smooth.  i feel my anxiety inching up again.  Frigging emotional roller coaster, what now?

“First of all,” he goes on, “The correct response is, “yes, sir,’  There will be a punishment later for not saying that – just a token to remind you.  For now, I want to hear you say “Yes, Sir, I am willing to follow your directions,” four times, slowly and clearly.  Go ahead.”

So i do, i say “Yes, Sir, i am willing to follow your directions,” four times.  As i say the words, i can feel my body changing – i don’t know how to explain it.  You know, it’s like i’m softening, opening somehow.  i’m looking at him, looking at him on my phone while i say it, and it’s like i’m falling down into his eyes.

When i finish, he smiles just a tiny bit, just the corners of his mouth turn up, but his eyes look pleased.   i feel this urge to please him in some other way, to offer him more, but i don’t, i just wait.    I have my camera focused on my face, he can’t see that i’m naked and he hasn’t asked.

I’m expecting him to, but instead he says, “When it’s hard for you to wait, here’s something you can try.  We’ll try it in a minute, but listen to the directions first.  I’m going to have you bend over the bed so your breasts are resting on the bed.  You can lean on your forearms so your head and shoulders are propped up a bit.  You’ll fix the camera on a pillow across from you so that you don’t have to hold it and I can see your face.  Do you understand that?”

“I – I think so,” i say, adding quickly, “Sir.”

“Go ahead and try it,” he says.

It’s easier than it sounds actually and it doesn’t take long until he’s looking at my face as i lay with my torso on the bed, raised up on my forearms, looking at him.  My hips are higher than the bed, so my ass is raised behind me.

“Open your legs wide,” he says.

i spread my feet farther apart, which also exposes my pussy, and i feel a bit of cool air between my legs.  i shiver.  He smiles.

“Now,” he says, “We’ll start with your hands.  Just take a moment to think about your hands.  Feel them in your mind, be aware of them.”

Immediately, i  become super aware of my hands.  I can sense the skin, feel the fingers.  They begin  to tingle just a bit.

He says,  “Now, tell me a way you can please me with your hands.”

And it’s easy.  i smile at him, and say, “I can caress you with my hands, Sir.”  He nods.  “Yes, when I give you permission, you can please me by caressing me with your hands.”

I sigh, my breathing is slow and even.  Yes.  i can do that.

“What about your arms?” he asks.  “How can you please me with your arms?”

For a moment, i don’t know.  Then i smile, “i can hug you with my arms, Sir.”

“Yes,” he says, smiling gently, “When I give you permission, you can please me by hugging me with your arms.”

I think i  might die with the slow meticulous progress we make.  With my mouth? With my mouth, i can lick and suck you, Sir.”  And his response each time, Yes, when I give you permission, you can…”

Some of them are not so easy.  With my feet?  What can i do to please him with my feet?  He waits, until finally i say, haltingly, “With my feet, Sir, i can walk so i can bring you something to eat or drink?” and he smiles, “Yes, when I give you permission, you can please me by bringing me something to eat or drink – or rope to tie you with – or the belt to beat you…”

i shiver.  And we go on.

He leads.  “Think about your ass.  How can you please me with your ass, olivia?”  “With my ass,  I can please you by – offering it to you – for spanking, Sir?”  And so on…

By the time we finished, i am drained.   Trembling, my pussy hotter than it has been in years, my body totally relaxed -as if – as if it does not even belong to me anymore.  My nipples as tender as if i’d been wearing nipple clamps.

“Do you want to cum?” he asks, and i’m quick with an eager, “YES, SIR!” but he laughs, “No.  Not now.  You don’t cum until I give you permission.”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, and in that moment, it seems perfectly reasonable to me.

 

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The Fantasy Begins

It’s not Story of O, i remind myself.  You’re not getting dropped off at the door, stripped of underwear, handed over to people who will take your clothes away.  You’ve already gotten yourself waxed, pussy, legs and underarms are all hair free zones.  All you have to do is check into your hotel, get ready, and go over to the – to the place.  The club.

i review my clothes.  Leggings.  Push up bra.  And a top with a bit of cleavage that almost makes me look like i’m not fat.  Oh, underwear that matches the bra.  Check.  I’ve got all of that.  Shoes are a problem, i just can’t do heels anymore.  A little ballet slipper type will have to do.

My heart is pounding just thinking about this.  i must be out of my mind. A stranger.  On the internet.  At a BDSM club.  Who would believe it?  At 61, you’d think I’d know better. Oh my goodness, this is ridiculous – what am i thinking?

I’m feeling quite prudent as i semi-scold myself, and then I giggle – that’s such a pretense.  I’ve done much wilder things and don’t regret a minute of it. As long as El doesn’t turn out to be an ax murderer, i’ll be fine.

I’m feeling pretty nonchalant as i pull into the parking garage of the hotel, as if i make arrangements to play at a BDSM club all the time, until i hear the buzz of my phone.  Glancing down, i see it’s El.

When you get to your room take off your clothes.  Then text me.

My heart’s fluttery, butterflies in my stomach – ok.  i can do this.  i text him back

Ok

His response is so quick i think he must have had it ready.

Olivia.  Starting now, you can call me Sir.

i feel a shift in my body.  It’s beginning to feel real.  i’m going to let this man spank me.  Maybe blindfold me.  Play with me.  i get a flash of an image, my pants down, bent over…

I realize i’m standing still beside my car, looking at my phone.  i text back quickly

Yes, Sir

And his response is so predictable, i should have laughed, but instead, i smile and feel a little glow of warmth. His text says

Good girl

 

 

 

 

Fantasy Abounds

He sent me a list of his toys.

He = OG.  Toys = belts and floggers and paddles and crops.  A cane – not rattan but fiberglass.  All the expected props – collars and cuffs, ball gags and butt plugs, oh, my.

He likes the same (kinky) books I like.  Not that he agreed with books I said i liked.  No,  he told me – volunteered – that he likes Cherise Sinclair.  He likes her Shadowland series.  i love those books.

You know what that means, right?  It means he likes at least some of the same Fantasy elements i like.

i think it’s possible that this might really happen.

i have some dilemmas to work out.  Fuck.  Nothing’s easy.

But still.  I think OG might be an actual person who knows about being dominant.  Wow.  This could really happen.

I’ve been fretting a bit (because i’m a natural worrier) about how/where we could do this.  He lives about 3 hours away from me, so we can’t do coffee and see where it goes.  He mentioned maybe visiting Where-i-Live for a weekend, but even then – hotel room?  What if we get too loud?  What if he’s actually a serial killer – or you know, a terrible person who will actually harm me?

And then it occurs to me – we should go to an event and meet up there!  There’s a town that’s a couple of hours away from me that has a very active scene, and that place is only a couple of hours away for him too – how cool is that???  I haven’t mentioned this to him, and guess I will wait a bit before i do, but I think it’s a real solution.

So yesterday, i was driving along thinking about what it might be like with OG and i got so turned on, i almost had to pull over and, you know, take care of myself.  Maybe i’m not too old for this after all!

 

 

Fantasy Moment 10-18

Naked, of course, even though i am more comfortable when he lets me wear something.  Never anything that would get in the way of his hands or mouth, not for more than the second it takes to push the material aside, to pull it off.  Never clothing that would get in the way of his cock.  But no clothes at all today.

It is warm in the room, and warmer still because he has just finished strapping me.  He has had me bent over the arm of the big over-stuffed chair for a long time, spanking with his hand first until i’m well warmed-up, and  then with his belt.

i love the belt, the feel of leather on my ass, the sound it makes slashing through the air, the crack as it lands on my ass, and the sting.   So i’m feeling a little floaty when he makes me stand up, but i’m quick to respond to his gesture to open my legs.

Standing with legs apart shoulder width, facing him.  He pauses, his gaze looking me up and down, then, “Hands on top of your head,” he says.

This moves my arms and hands out of the way, raises my breasts.  It is one of the most vulnerable positions for me.  He pinches each of my nipples, hard, and I bite my lip, wondering what he will do next.  His mouth is gentle, warm and wet, his tongue caressing one nipple until i moan before he moves to the other.

As he pulls away, the air is cool on my damp skin.  i feel even more exposed, every part of my body sensitized and open to his touch.  My ass tingles from the whipping, but even the flesh on my arms is aroused.  With both hands on my head, i feel like i’m offering my body, and desperately want his touch.

He pinches both nipples again, making me squirm, and laughs.  “Wait here,” he says, and i watch him walk out of the room.

i want to cry out, and maybe i do, just a little bit, i really don’t want him to leave.  But he’s gone, quickly, with out a glance back.   No need to look, he knows i’ll be here waiting, just as he left me.  Ready for whatever pleasure or pain he brings, whenever he’s ready to play with me again.

 

A Moment

The softest rope around my wrists holds them together,

My collar is leather, a ring of metal in front,

He attaches the rope to the hook,

secure, my hands are secure.

He taps my inner thigh,

wider, he says, wider,

and the rope around each ankle is secured.

Exposed.

Bend over, he says,

and i bend at the waist, leaning over the narrow table,

i smell the lube before i feel it,

His fingers push inside me,

pleasure pain i moan

and he pulls out,

fingers replaced with the cool glass plug,

opening me, forcing me to accept it.

Good girl, he says, stepping away.

 

 

 

Thoughts 10-1

i’ve had a little piece of a fantasy.  My Dom (in the fantasy) punishes me for breaking the rules about speech by putting a clothes pin on my tongue.  i am fascinated by the image and by imagining the feel of it.

No, we do not have a clothespin this i can try to discover just how much i would hate this.  Ok we probably have some somewhere – for sure, the ones Fiona gave me a lifetime ago – I remember moving them!  But i have no idea where they are.

In my fantasy, as I begin to script it, I can’t figure out what the rules are around speaking or why i’m breaking them.  i think maybe he makes up  arbitrary rules for me to break, but that doesn’t feel right.

Then i wonder why i’m having this fantasy, how does this apply to my life?  And i know, even though i don’t want to know, that in my interactions with my partner, i’ve become sharp and sometimes unkind.  Harsh, he says, although he isn’t distressed by it, he seems to be able to separate what i mean from what i say

But still.

That’s not how i want to be – not who i want to be.  I don’t think that what i’m saying is “wrong,” and I have a right to say what i feel.   But sometimes i’m so irritated – so irritated you can’t even imagine – and i’m sharp.  My words can be cutting.

With or without a clothespin to remind me to watch my tongue, i need to stop that.

And PS I went looking for an image to go with this post – there are, indeed, “stock photos of a blonde woman with clothespin on tongue” but that’s actually a little too odd for me so i’m not posting any of them.  Just a clothespin.

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Just a Story

i dreamt last night (this part is true) that i was with two men – maybe having coffee with them.  They were Doms but didn’t know i was submissive.  Then one of them asked me, “Well, if you know about BDSM, do you have a role?  What are you in that world?”

And i felt all shy and i said, “well, i’m – you know – i’m a sub, i guess, but…”  And he said, “A sub?”  And i said, “yes,” but i couldn’t look at him, i said, “i’m submissive, i guess, but i haven’t, you know, i haven’t done anything  in a really long time.  i guess i’m still submissive, i don’t know.  Can you be submissive if you’re not doing anything?”  And i couldn’t make eye contact, couldn’t look at him.

Then the dream switched to something else and eventually i woke up.  But i thought about this:

We are in a coffee shop, my latte untouched in front of me.  The man across from me is a stranger, except for a few exchanges on the internet.  He is better-looking than i would have thought from his picture, good looking for an old guy.  i wonder if he’s disappointed in my looks, but i will not ask. 

He looks at me with curiosity, and i mentally squirm a bit under that calm gaze.  “So do you think you’re submissive?” he asks, “or know that you are?  There’s a difference.”

“Yes,” I say, resisting a slight urge to add “Sir.”   “I know there is.  I – I know I’m submissive, at least I was in the past, for sure in the past.  Can that change?”

He smiles, just the tiniest bit, mostly with his eyes.  “I don’t know.  But it seems unlikely, doesn’t it?  How would that work, if it could change?  Something to think about.” He pauses just for a second, and adds with a slight nod, “Drink your coffee though.  Go ahead.”

Even as i reach for my latte, i know he is making a point, and i can’t stop myself, i grasp the cup, fully aware that i’m obeying him.  Watching him even as I lift the cup to my lips, i see his mouth twitch, trying not to smile.  i feel like it takes me hours to take a sip and return the cup to the saucer.  He watches me, cat and mouse, i think.  Damnit.

“How would that work,” he asks again.  “If you were submissive and enjoyed being told what to do, enjoyed following directions,” he pauses and I feel heat between my legs, as if my pussy is waking up.  Damn it.  He goes on, “If you enjoyed being spanked, lightly, for pleasure, or maybe harder, to please your Sir, and even harder maybe,  for punishment sometimes,” and my pussy clenches.  Like a stupid novel, i think, and i make myself sit still.

He smiles, and i think he can see it on my face, he knows that i’m responding.  I drop my eyes, still trying to shield myself, trying to hide my reaction.  

“Still not sure whether you’re submissive?” he asks, and i can hear amusement in his voice.  i shake my head, still looking at the table, at my coffee, anywhere but at him.  “Let’s try an experiment,” he says, and my brain goes into panic mode – an experiment?  doesn’t he see he already has, no, i really already know, this is enough, and my pussy clenches hard, i’m getting wet, damnit damnit, and i can’t respond.

“I won’t do anything you don’t agree to, you know that, right?’  i nod, i do know that.  i am not afraid of him that way, only afraid that he’ll see my soul.

“I want your wrist,” he says.  “Your left wrist.  Do you agree to let me have your wrist for a minute or two?”  

“Yes,” i whisper, withholding the “Sir” that almost slips out.

“Put your left wrist on the table,” he says.  I obey, feeling heat between my legs as I lay my arm on the table, wrist towards him.

“You have this Fitbit on your arm, I’m going to take it off,” he says.  “Turn your arm over, please.”  I like that he says please, although I would have done it anyway.  I turn my arm so the more sensitive skin of my inner arm is exposed.

His fingers on the Fitbit bracelet, the first time he’s touched me.  I shiver as he pulls it open, feeling as if he’s stripping me of my clothes.  He does it carefully, intentionally.  Not too slowly, and not as if he’s in a hurry.  I tremble a bit.

He moves the Fitbit aside, “I’ll put it here,” he says, placing it next to his coffee cup.  Both his hands are beside my wrist now, one on each side.  I’m watching, caught in an intense awareness of how close his hands are to touching me.  My palm is turned up, inner wrist exposed.

He slides his left hand under my wrist.  His right hand strokes the vein that runs to my hand.  i whimper, just a tiny whimper, hoping he can’t hear it..  His left hand encircles my wrist, closing on it in the same way that a handcuff would.  i am being held, contained.   

i cannot breathe, i swallow, loudly, i think.  His grasp on my wrist is firm, not tight, but solid.  i can not get away unless he choses to let me go.  He is watching me, i am trying not to react, but he waits.  Watching.

My nipples tingle.  My panties are drenched.  i have not felt this way in so long.  Tears fill my eyes and spill over.

His voice is gentle.  “What do you think?  Are you submissive?”  i want to answer, open my mouth, but nothing comes out.  “Answer me,” he says, and there is just enough command in his voice to allow me to obey.

“Yes, yes, sir,” i say.  i glance up and see such kindness in his eyes.

“Say it,” he says.  “Say, i am a submissive girl.”   My mouth is so dry, my heart is pounding, but he tightens his grasp on my wrist just a fraction and somehow that settles me.  i don’t have to worry or decide, i just have to obey.

“i am a submissive girl,” i say, and i feel the truth of it, my body relaxes into the knowledge, my heart opens and i long to offer myself.

“Good girl,” he says, with a smile, and a shiver of pleasure runs through me.