This Lifetime Ch. 01

I took extra care in shaving my legs. Standing under the pounding water of the massage shower, feeling the needles of hot water biting into my shoulders and neck, I stretched my right leg out in front of me. I placed my foot against the cold tiles as I ran the razor over every inch of skin, making sure that my leg was silky smooth. I slid my hand over it, checking that there was not a single errant hair remaining before repeating the process with my left leg.

The stretch in my thigh as I stood with my foot straight in front of me relaxed me, just as the pounding water was relaxing my tight shoulder muscles. Checking my leg and finding it smooth, I stood on both feet, letting my head fall back so the water could pound onto my hairline.

I have always loved the feeling of the shower water splashing onto my hairline. It brought back memories from years before when I first discovered my own body. Smiling to myself, I recalled how I had overheard friends talking about the effect of the showerhead on their pussies and how that evening I had furtively sneaked into the bathroom and used the showerhead to bring myself to my first orgasm.

I had been unsure what to do. I had no idea what my friends had meant when they said it was the best way to have fun on your own. I leant against the wall, standing in the bath with the water from the shower coursing over my pussy, as I tried to figure out what was so wonderful about all of this.

Shaking my head, about to give up, I had been suddenly startled as the water pulsed onto my tender clit. I gasped for breath as I felt the water hit me and trickle down my slit. My breathing became rough as my nipples peaked and the water teased and tormented me to a shuddering orgasm.

I remembered how I had sunk to the bottom of the bath as my legs gave way, with the showerhead still clasped in my trembling hand, water spraying everywhere, leaving puddles on the bathroom floor. I had gasped for breath and once I had regained awareness, I shoved the showerhead back between my shaking legs as I tried to repeat that mind-blowing experience.

The fingers of one hand plucked gently at a tender, swollen nipple as I ground my pussy against the showerhead. Ground it against the cool metal and plastic, feeling the hot water tantalize me until the waves of another orgasm crashed over me.

Later, as I grew cold from half-lying, half-sitting on the bottom of the bath, I had clambered back to my feet and stood under the stream of water, turning up the hot water to warm my chilled body. I had taken a lot of showers after that. The water had pounded and splashed onto my hairline and that sensation had always reminded me of my first orgasms.

I felt my breathing become more rapid as my mind wandered, as my thoughts strayed to how wonderful an orgasm would be right now. But despite my heating blood and pounding heart I knew that an orgasm was not permitted for me now.

Because there were several differences in my life from that time to this.

Then I was an innocent, a girl who was free to do as she wished, when she wished and how she wished. Now I was an owned slave, a slave who was free to do only as she was permitted. And I wouldn't have changed that for the world.

Becoming a slave had at the outset seemed abhorrent to me. A slave? To be owned by another person? To have to always seek permission and to please another's whims and desires?

It was ridiculous!

I was a successful career woman, with my own apartment, car and a wardrobe full of clothes, and a job I adored.

But then I met him.

At a business conference. I had walked into a room dressed in a skirt suit carrying a briefcase full of papers and statistics. He had been standing in the centre of the room, talking to a woman. He was tall, dark and broad-shouldered, dressed in a suit that could only have been cut for him. I didn't even register the woman beyond noticing her presence.

I had been dumbstruck. For a moment I just stood frozen, feeling like the gauche schoolgirl I hadn't been in many years. The briefcase had slipped from my suddenly numb fingers and before I knew what had happened he was at my side, holding my briefcase out towards me.

I accepted it dumbly, my eyes wide as I fought to regain my composure, fought to understand what was happening to me.

He had smiled, put his hand on my elbow and guided me to a table. I had stood mutely as he pulled out my chair and seated me. The consummate gentleman.

And through it all I had not spoken a single word.

I had merely followed his gentle guidance.

Over the next few minutes I learned his name and gave him mine. I listened as he chatted lightly about the content of the day ahead. I had tried to respond intelligently but had felt as though my brain had turned to cotton wool.

At one point a colleague approached us, wanting to sit in the vacant chair beside me. He had smiled, introduced himself to my colleague and somehow, without giving offence, had guided my colleague to sit elsewhere. As I sat watching my colleague join a group at another table he told me that he wanted me to himself. I didn't protest. I didn't want to protest, even if I had been able to.

His magnetism completely overwhelmed me. I sat through the opening keynotes as though in a trance, unable to concentrate on anything other than his presence. His scent filled my senses and I would have sworn that if I had stretched out a hand to touch him I would have been burnt by the aura surrounding him.

When the session broke for coffee, he took my elbow and helped me to my feet before guiding me to a quiet corner where he handed me a cup of black coffee with a generous dollop of whipped cream. Exactly the way I preferred it. To think I didn't even consider to ask how he knew my preference in coffee.

Because I knew how he knew.

I looked into his eyes and smiled. Felt our souls connect and felt his smile warm my being.

This was not our first meeting. Though it was the first in this lifetime.

From that moment for the rest of the day we were together. At lunch he ordered for me, choosing exactly what I would have chosen. He turned to me, asking me to choose for him. I had looked at him in panic for a moment before smiling and without looking at the menu ordered a steak, medium rare, with no onions.

He had laughed lightly when I mentioned the onions.

"So you know it too." His words were a statement of fact.

I had nodded silently, my mind calm despite the surges of feelings going through my body.

"I recognized you immediately." His tone was gentle, as though he was talking to someone he had loved for many years. "And I knew you knew me too."

I smiled at him, yearning to be held in his arms.

"What is this?" I was shaking my head gently in confusion, even though my heart was full of joy and my mind calm.

"Oh, my sweet slave, you know what this is. This is your homecoming my little one."

My eyes widened as I heard his words. Slave? Homecoming?

Surely this was a dream. Maybe I had fallen and hit my head, was having a dream induced by a bang to my head. But I was awake, I was certain of that.

How could this be real? And yet it was.

I spent the rest of the day at his side, the keynote speakers washing over me as I felt closer and closer to him. Closer to this stranger who was not a stranger.

At the end of the day he had requested my room number, telling me he would come to take me to dinner at eight. It didn't occur to me to protest. I had never before let any man control me in this way and yet here I was, only having known him for a few hours, submitting to his every wish.

"What should I wear?" I asked, the words slipping from my lips before I even understood they were being formed.

He chuckled, stroked my cheek with his thumb as he told me that I already knew.

Then he was gone.

He had taken me to dinner, we had laughed and talked nonstop through the entire meal. Then, later, after we had walked for what seemed like eons along the riverbank, he led me back to my room and taken me to bed.

It had been a soft, gentle joining of our bodies and souls. He had kissed and licked every part of my body as he had slowly exposed it; peeling off each item of clothing and letting them fall carelessly to the floor. He had kissed my lips gently, his tongue licking the outline of my mouth before probing inside, his tongue dancing with mine as he carried me to the bed.

Naked, I lay there, watching as he slowly undressed. No words were needed as our eyes burned into each other. As he stripped I felt my body melt into the bed, felt my juices flow from my needy pussy. As he pulled his pants off, letting his cock spring free, I let out an audible gasp. He paused and smiled at me before climbing onto the bed.

He lay between my legs, looking deeply into my eyes.

"This isn't just a one night stand."

"I know." My words came with a certainty from deep within that this was something that had been destined.

He grinned at me and then moved his head to slide his tongue up my wet folds, teasing me with flicks of his tongue over my already swollen clit. He closed his mouth over my wet opening and sucked gently, my hips bucking towards his mouth.

He put his hands on my thighs, holding me still as I tried desperately to drive my pussy deeper onto his face. His tongue plunged into my hole, fucking me gently as his thumbs drew circles on my sensitive inner thighs.

His tongue drove in and out of me, making me squirm and wriggle, trying to get closer to his face. With his nose pressing on my clit, teasing me even more, my juices soaked his face. He pulled his tongue from my pussy and slid it up my slit before settling his lips around my clit, sucking on it and gently nibbling as he used his finger to circle my opening.

My moaning became loud pleas for release, begging him to be allowed to come. His only response was a muffled chuckle as he moved his head and once more plunged his tongue into my gushing opening. I screamed out as I felt my orgasm overtake me. My thighs, trying to close on his head, were held open by his hands as my toes curled and my knees jerked trying to pull my legs up. He held me in place as he flicked his tongue over my sensitive bud, watching wave after wave of my orgasm crash over me.

As I calmed, my body and breathing returning slowly to normal, he cradled me in his arms. Whispered soothing words into my ear as he stroked my face and hair. I begged him to take me, to drive his cock into me and was hushed as he told me it would happen in good time.

The rest of the conference week had been a whirl of days spent in sessions, evenings spent on outings together as we explored the city, and nights spent making love. I had been amazed at the ease with which we fell into a routine, how easily we laughed and talked, how many coincidences there were in our lives.

His life and mine had so many similarities, so many differences, but the similarities were what had formed us.

That had been six months ago, and ever since we had been spending every possible moment together, taking flights to spend our weekends together. He had insisted on paying for all my traveling expenses. We had become closer and closer and had talked about every aspect of our lives.

And independently we had come to the same conclusion.

We had to be together.

And more than that, we both wanted our relationship to be special.

He wanted to be my Master and I wanted to be his slave. Actually, that wasn't accurate. He needed to be my Master and I needed to be his slave.

It was more than a mere want; it was a deep-seated need. And one that we both intended to have.

Standing in the shower, with the water pounding down onto my hairline, I shook my head as I remembered that conversation. That joyful, tearful conversation when we had both expressed our needs for and to each other.

Water streamed into my eyes and I rubbed my fists into them to ease the pain. We had spent hours talking, hours on the phone, hours in person, hours writing emails. All with one purpose. To ensure that we both understood what the other wanted and needed. And to ensure that we knew and understood what we needed ourselves.

We had talked about what we understood a Master and slave relationship to be. We had taken time apart, a week where we did not contact each other so that we could be sure of what we wanted.

That week had been pure hell. It had crystallized many things in my mind, the primary of which was that I had to be his. I needed to belong to him. I needed to be controlled by him.

At the end of the week when he had flown to stay with me, I had wanted to throw myself at his feet as soon as I saw him in the airport concourse. He knew what I wanted and grasped my elbow, kissed me hard and told me that there was time for that later.

It had been that night when he had first permitted me to kneel at his feet. It had been that night that he had first taken me as his slave. It had been a night of many firsts.

And tonight was another first.

Since that night we had discussed a contract, one in which he had decided how our lives were to continue. He had decided that I was to resign from my job, sell my apartment and move across the country to be with him.

It had seemed insane, at first, to my family and friends when we told them of our plans. But seeing my shining face, seeing how he watched me with love and pride, they had all given their blessing. And over the past month they helped me pack up my home, helped me through the sale of the apartment and held countless parties and dinners to wish me well in my new life.

None of them knew of our Master/slave status, but all knew that in our relationship he cared for and protected me and that I did all I could to make him happy.

None of them knew of our past lives, the excited conversations we had shared as we both told of our knowledge of times together before. But all knew that this was a special love we shared.

As I stood in the shower my beloved Master was in a plane heading to me. He had given me instructions, told me what to do and where to meet him, but no more. I knew only that tonight was to be a special night but I knew no more.

Sighing happily as I thought of him I squeezed a generous handful of shampoo into my hand and lathered my honey-blonde hair. I enjoyed the feeling of my fingers massaging my scalp, smiling as I recalled the times I had been permitted to wash his hair before he turned to me to lather the shampoo into my hair.

I rinsed off, smoothing conditioner through my wet tresses, determined that tonight I would be as beautiful as I could be for him. I poured body wash lavishly over the body buffer and ran it in circles over my skin. My skin was so pale that within seconds I could see the rough buffer was leaving red marks so I dropped it to the bottom of the shower and used my hands to wash my body. I ran the razor under my arms, making sure the skin was as soft as my legs.

Stepping out of the shower I felt the chill of the air make my skin pimple before I wrapped myself in the warm toweling robe. I turned off the water and lifted my paddle brush to ease it through the tangles of my wet hair. I pulled it carefully through, feeling the gentle tug of each tangle as it fought before giving in and becoming smooth.

Every part of my body felt vibrant and alive, every part of me alert and excited about the evening to come.

I straightened my hair, pulling it through the heated ceramic plates and letting the irons take every kink from it. Taking my time I applied a smooth coat of foundation and added blush and eye shadow before finishing my eyes with some liner and black mascara. A slick coat of gloss completed my look. I sat for a moment looking at myself, smiling happily as my mind drifted to consider his reaction on seeing me in just a few short hours.

Dressing quickly I lifted the weekend case I had packed earlier and hurried out of the door.

Less than an hour later I was wearing a blue under-bust corset, black stockings and stilettos, kneeling with my hands, palm upwards, resting on my parted thighs, six feet from the door of the hotel room. My hair was twisted into an elegant chignon and the room was lit with hundreds of tea lights and a bottle of champagne chilling on the table.

He had booked the suite in the hotel and arranged to have the candles and champagne ready for my arrival.

All I had to do was take off my coat and kneel, waiting for my Master and for whatever he had planned for the weekend.