tagBDSMMeeting Master, Meeting Myself

Meeting Master, Meeting Myself

bysdbnnc©

Before I met Master, my life involved very few connections or interactions with other people -- I lived almost completely in my head. I attended college and earned a degree; I worked hard at my chosen profession. I made and kept a small group of very close friends. I even maintained close family ties. But my true self was kept secret -- even from the public, conscious part of myself. As I grew older, my hidden desires and yearnings revealed themselves more and more, but only in my fantasies and dreams. Although my fascination with submission increased over time, it never went beyond reading books with a D/s theme. I never believed people actually had experiences like those in the books I read, yet my subconscious mind apparently was determined to find out and, if possible, to experience submission if a Dominant could be found.

While I was not aware of that determination in December 2007 and January 2008, it apparently led me to glance through Craigslist postings by men, seeking women for "casual encounters" in my area. When I found a Dominant's posting seeking submissive ladies with whom to have dinner and perhaps more, I was transfixed. It was the first time my conscious mind accepted the idea that D/s relationships existed outside of fiction. I read the posting several times before printing a copy. That night, and the next few nights, I re-read the posting just before turning out my bedside light and masturbating to orgasm. It is difficult to explain the emotional cocktail that the posting generated in me. I was excited to learn people were actually in D/s relationships, even in the "Bible belt" where I lived. I was scared knowing part of me had found an opportunity for expression, and wondering where I would end up by following that opportunity. I was anxious that my age, weight, and inexperience would cause the Dominant to reject me out of hand, but I understood very well that, if I did not at least try to explore this possibility, the pain of regret would far outweigh any disappointment and hurt I would feel if rejected.

Every night, sometimes more than once each night, I imagined hearing the words I had memorized from the posting. The language was formal, free of profanity, and that raised my comfort level. I tend toward formality in all my relationships, and appreciate clear borders and expectations in my dealings with other people. The straightforward, no nonsense tone of Dominance that flowed through the posting elicited the response in me that the posting anticipated. Yes, just as the posting said, reading the words that called me to serve and submit made my cunt lubricate, my nipples tighten, and my clitoris reach out for the slap of a hand or the stroke of a flogger. Despite my visceral and overwhelming response to the posting, I did not respond to it for several days.

I re-read the printed posting, but did not go back onto Craigslist for almost a week -- this was my first experience with Craigslist, and the concept that postings "expired" or were removed for whatever reasons was foreign to me. When my need to explore the reality of a lifestyle I previously had believed existed only in fantasy overwhelmed my fear of rejection and caution in dealing with a stranger, I finally tried to respond. Prepared to respond honestly and openly to the poster by expressing my submissive need for a Dominant, I accessed Craigslist, but the posting was missing. When I tried to e-mail the address on the printed posting, my message was rejected. I was desolate, but resigned -- my submissive self would continue unexpressed, a state of being the passage of years had made comfortable and secure.

Even with this disappointment, it was impossible to get the genie back into the bottle. The submissive nature that had previously existed in the background refused to retreat. When I continued searching Craigslist and then found a new posting very similar in content and tone to the posting that first caught my attention, I immediately responded, referencing the first posting that had caught my eye and expressing my relief that there was a new posting to replace the first one. After a few hours of anxious checking, I received the Dominant's reply to my response. I was astounded to learn, from the response, that my assumption that both postings were made by the same Dominant was incorrect. This was merely the first lesson I was to receive from this Dominant -- through the course of my service to the Dominant, I would learn that any and all assumptions on the part of the submissive about the Dominant were inappropriate, unfounded and nearly certain to be incorrect. My relief was so great at finding a posting from a Dominant that, other than apologizing for my error in assumption, the news that the Dominant with whom I was in contact was different than the one who had posted originally did not matter to me at all.

The Dominant explained that he required me to prove I was not sending a "canned" message designed to steer people to commercial websites. While I fully expected the Dominant to look at my photograph and reject me immediately, I sent the only digital photograph I had, with assurances that, although I had no experience in submission, my interest in it was completely real.

At the time, I did not realize that I was already experiencing submission. Looking back, I know that the heady sensations that accompanied following the Dominant's instructions, relinquishing control of the acquaintance to the Dominant, and assuming a verbal posture that reflected my interest in subordinating myself fully to a Dominant captivated and intrigued me. Each time I checked e-mail to see if there was a message from the Dominant, my connection to the Dominant, my acceptance of my need for service and submission grew. It may seem naive or stupid that I was so entranced with a man whom I had never met, nor even spoken to by telephone, and who might, in fact, be a complete fabrication. My submissive personality was so starved for expression and validation that none of that mattered.

I was surprised when the Dominant did not reject me after seeing my photograph, and I was thrilled to have a continuing opportunity to communicate with the Dominant through emails. All my e-mail to the Dominant was formal, respecting the Dominance and control the Dominant already wielded in my life. My reading had provided an understanding of the manner in which submissives properly addressed Dominants. More importantly, the submissive voice I used in communications with the Dominant felt "right" and proper. I was too caught up in the novelty and excitement of the experience to give much thought to that feeling, but now I know it was an expression of my submissive nature. My submissive nature was denied expression for so very long, but it never wavered or altered its essence. And when my submission finally was able to express itself fully, I was able to recognize the traces of it that had always been part of my personality and relationships with others. My submission had disguised itself with veils of politeness, consideration, and friendship. Many choices in the past were dictated by my submissive nature, my need to subordinate everything to my overwhelming need and desire to serve that extended even to strangers I met randomly as I went through life.

Each day brought a new message from the Dominant, posing a new test or instruction to reveal more of my submissive personality. Then the Dominant proposed that we meet in a public restaurant the following week. When the Dominant made the offer to meet with me, and limited the opportunity to a single week, I was faced with the first difficult hurdle of my beginning attempts at submission. That week could not have been more difficult for me if I had deliberately scheduled things to make meeting the Dominant as difficult as possible. Before receiving the Dominant's invitation, I had scheduled the closing on the purchase of my new home, a nephew's birthday party, an author's lecture, a trip out of town for the day for a funeral, moving my personal belongings and my four dogs into my new home, working a full-time job, and assisting my elderly parents, in whose home I had been living.

The week's schedule, with many pre-existing commitments, was not planned knowing the Dominant would enter my life that week. In retrospect, the hectic and challenging pace of appointments unrelated to submission or the Dominant was a good thing. I was too busy with other things to brood and worry about the possible meeting with the Dominant. I could not devote hours and hours to dwelling on my weight, my inexperience, and my anxiety about taking this first step into a new life. At that point in my life, and for years prior to that, I had a terrible tendency to brood, to pick apart plans and actions to the point of inactivity and inaction. It was typical that I would over-think choices and consequences to the exclusion of action.

Monday morning of "the" week, my real estate closing went off without a hitch, but my arrival at my office was delayed, so I stayed late that evening to put in a full day. As I was driving to my parents' house around 6:00 p.m., there was nothing more pressing on my mind than the prospect of yet another mind-numbing evening in front of the TV with my parents, although I did have the comfort of knowing that I would once again have the freedom of living in my own home before the end of the week. Although the concept of having an opportunity to begin a D/s relationship was exciting and challenging, it was merely a concept at that point. There was no way for it to be real to me then, since everything to do with living submission was unknown to me. With the press of planning the activities yet to come for the week, the relief of having the real estate closing behind me, and the excitement of making a home of my own, pushing thoughts of the Dominant out of my conscious mind was easier than it ever would be again.

Whilst I was making the 30-minute drive to my parents' house, I received a call. Since I was driving, I could not check the mobile phone to see who was calling, but I anticipated it to be my boss, since he called frequently. The deep, resonant male voice that responded to my "Hello" was utterly new, but its commanding tones were immediately recognized. Before the Dominant identified himself with his e-mail name, I already knew I was receiving my first telephone call from the Dominant. The Dominant's voice was entrancing to me; the voice was educated, articulate, and musical.

My breathing quickened and my cunt moistened when the Dominant asked if I was available. I eagerly said, "Yes," thinking the Dominant wanted to know if I could converse freely with him. When the Dominant made it clear that what he actually was inquiring was whether I was available to meet him for dinner at a local restaurant that night, I was conflicted. As much as I longed to have the opportunity to meet this man who had already impacted my life so dramatically, and who held the promise of offering me so much more knowledge about myself, the idea of having to deal with my mother, who would deeply resent my not being home for dinner and the evening, was daunting. One of the main characteristics of my life to that point had been conflict avoidance. As a submissive, it was easy for me to give up my position or desires to accommodate others, rather than to stand up for myself and take the anger and frustration of others in stride. At that point in my life, making other people happy was more important to me than being happy. In fact, it was impossible for me to be happy, knowing that I had made someone else unhappy in order to do what I wanted.

Sensing my indecision, the Dominant kindly offered to drive to the town in which I lived to meet me for dinner. The Dominant not only realized this would give me time to take care of my dogs and get to the restaurant without having to rush, but it reduced the time I would need to be away from home, making it easier for me to explain to my mother. The Dominant's consideration and my need to move into submission, made dealing with my mother's resentment a task I could manage. Although I expected the evening to be a one-off because of my weight and inexperience, but I could not forego the chance to move toward learning how to express my submission through service that would allow me to be who I truly always had been.

I knew the regret of missing the opportunity to meet the man who had captivated my imagination and energy so completely by means of e-mails, sight unseen, would last far longer than my mother's displeasure at my being out for the evening. So, despite the difficulties of dealing with my mother, I agreed to have dinner with the Dominant that night. Because the Dominant was unfamiliar with my town, he asked me to suggest a restaurant, and to estimate when I could arrive. The Dominant previously expressed his preferences regarding a submissive's clothing, so I explained I would not have time to change clothes before our meeting. I always had favored red and black, which the Dominant preferred; I had dressed professionally in those colors for my real estate closing that morning. It seemed fortuitous that the red and black outfit I wore included a pleated skirt as the Dominant preferred. In hindsight, I realize I already was beginning to express my submission to the Dominant, even though we had never met, and even though I had no idea when I selected the outfit that the Dominant would see it.

The Dominant graciously agreed to make allowances for my circumstances, and to meet me when and where I suggested. As I processed the reality of meeting the Dominant and dealing with my mother's objections, the Dominant added an instruction to be carried out before our meeting. The Dominant told me to pull my panties up tight into my cunt and into the crack of my ass! The standard submissive's response, "Yes, Sir," stood me in good stead at that point. I was completely taken aback, not only by the instruction itself, but by the fact that I was perfectly willing to comply with it. I now realize the Dominant gave the instruction as much as a test of my submissive nature as from any expectation that I would comply with it. Certainly, the Dominant learned more from that response than I allowed myself to appreciate and understand!

When I arrived home, I took care of my four dogs. Then I explained to my mother (a prison warden in a previous life) that I had to go out to take care of an errand, and I would get dinner whilst I was out on my errand. In the face of her disapproval and recitations of why I should not follow my plan, I merely left to go to my bathroom so that I could take care of my panties as instructed. I hated the disagreement and tension, but nothing was going to prevent me from meeting the Dominant. As I left the bathroom, a glance in the mirror showed me a woman whose excitement and anticipation made her nearly unrecognizable. The flush on my cheeks, the heightened breathing, and the faintest waft of sexual arousal marked me as a submissive who had found a Dominant she could hope to serve.

I had plenty of time to get to the restaurant, and I arrived well before the Dominant completed his drive of more than an hour to my town. Waiting for the Dominant was marked by a very uncharacteristic calm and acceptance that I had no control. I had done as instructed -- the unfamiliar press of my panties against my clitoris and my asshole was a constant reminder -- and I was aware and unconcerned about what would happen next, since it was not in my control. Of course I thought that the Dominant might not show up at all. I decided that I could cope with that rejection, providing yet acceptance that submission was integrating itself into my "real" life. I was beginning to relinquish a lifelong expression of a need to organize, control, and direct everything that touched my life, key to assuming a submissive posture in any area of my life. Once I made my peace with the possibility of being stood up, I waited quietly, calmly, and patiently. Although I usually required a book or other anodyne to pass time spent waiting, my time awaiting the arrival of the Dominant passed with unusual quietness, calm, and an overwhelming feeling of correctness. This persisted even though the Dominant's arrival was delayed well beyond the agreed-upon time for our meeting.

As I waited, I looked out over the restaurant's parking lot. When I noticed a car pulling in past the doorway, and then reversing into a parking space, my attention was caught since cars normally just pull head-on into spaces to park. When a man, talking on a mobile telephone, got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant, I recognized the Dominant. The Dominant was not wearing the jacket he said he would wear -- instead, he wore a white tennis sweater that was much too large for his body, but the Dominant's posture -- the way in which the Dominant held himself -- made it clear to me that the Dominant with whom I was to be privileged to share a meal had arrived. I continued to sit quietly, eyes downcast, whilst the Dominant completed his telephone call. When the Dominant looked at me, the rush of sexual excitement and anticipation -- the sense of standing on the precipice between all that preceded this meeting and the entire future stretching out before me was acute. My senses went onto full alert, cataloging the smell of the Dominant's cologne, the sound of his shoes as his feet shifted, and the expression on his face. I knew without doubt that this was the Dominant I was waiting and had been waiting to meet. Everything submissive within me that had been dormant for so long surged into complete wakefulness and attention, stretching its wings after decades in the coffin-like chrysalis of convention and insecurity.

After entering the restaurant and being shown to a table, the Dominant and I exchanged social pleasantries, and then opened some personal topics, including some health issues that would impact our dinner choices. Our conversation took off, making it clear that, beyond the visceral attraction of that Dominant for this submissive, this man had the additional attractions of being intelligent, quick witted, internationally traveled, and interesting on many different levels. Many topics were touched on and discussed at dinner, and the time at our table seemed very short indeed.

All too quickly, dinner drew to a close; dishes were removed, and bills were requested. In the silence at our table after the server left us, the Dominant leaned over to me and quietly said, "I would like for you to go to the ladies' room, remove your panties, and bring them to me." Once again, I had not anticipated the instruction. Yet, as with the Dominant's earlier instruction about my panties, my response was immediate. I immediately left the table (leaving my purse behind in the Dominant's safe keeping), and went to the Ladies' Room. I have no recollection of the brief period from when I heard the instruction to when I returned to the table. I know that I went into a stall, removed my heels and then took off my pantyhose and panties. I folded the large, white cotton panties and put them in the pocket of my jacket. Then I put my pantyhose back on, and put my heels on before leaving the locked stall to return to the Dominant's table. I was operating on auto-pilot -- unable to deny either the Dominant's instruction or my need to comply with it. It would be easy to construct an emotional response to the instruction and my compliance with it as I look back over the months I have served the Dominant, but it would not be honest. In truth, I had no emotional response, merely an innate and irresistible impulse to do as the Dominant requested.

When I returned to the table, my panties were still in my jacket pocket. The Dominant quietly asked, "Did you do as asked?" and I responded with a nod, still operating on blind instinct and trust. The Dominant explained that, despite his e-mails insisting that we each pay for our own meal to avoid any sense of entitlement or obligation, the Dominant paid for my meal, then the Dominant asked if I was ready to leave. Outside, we stood near my car, which was parked immediately in front of the restaurant's entry door, an area that was very well lit.

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