Watched for Years Ch. 01

I watched her for years.

We met at a professional conference. I remember how stunning she was. The perfect almond shape of her eyes, the half-moon of her hips, the brilliance of her face when she smiled. At first I couldn't place what was so special about her- I meet many beautiful women in my profession but rarely feel an attraction as strongly as what I felt toward her. We traveled in the same circles so I saw her often (though not as often as I wished) and gradually got to know her. I learned that she was married and resigned myself to never getting to know her as more than a friend, albeit a desirable, seductive friend. But my fascination persisted.

As the years passed we became more and more comfortable with each other. I got to know about her personal life- her successful husband, her talented daughter, even her love of animals. She always was friendly and open, quick to engage with eye contact, a flash of her secret smile, a fleeting grab of my forearm. I made it a point to greet her whenever we attended the same functions or meetings. I would secretly delight in watching her move. She kept herself so fit and trim that she looked half her age. She knew how to wear clothes. Not just how to coordinate her outfits- she seemed to take particular care in how her clothing would fall over her body to accentuate her essential femininity. I found her entering my thoughts unbidden and looked forward to those times every couple of months when I knew I would spend a few hours in her presence. I would sometimes question myself why I found her more appealing than almost any other woman I knew, but just dismissed it as a somewhat random enchantment. Until one day when I looked at her as she stood before me and suddenly realized from a quick glance at her stance-

She wanted to be dominated.

She wanted a man to command her. Command her how to please him. Reward her for her obedience, punish her for her rebellion. Own her body as his property to use as he wished. Restrain her at his whim. Release her from her responsibilities. She yearned to submit to another's will.

It came to me in a flash as we talked in a crowded hallway during a break at a conference. She was looking up at me almost pleadingly as we made small talk about our families (we had known each other so long that I had gotten divorced and re-married since our first meeting), holding her arms down by her sides with her elbows behind the plane of her back. I could see in her posture the perfect picture of a rope-bound woman. Suddenly so many things clicked in to place that I could feel my heart skip. Time seemed to dilate around me as I realized that I could make her mine. That she wanted me to make her mine. That she couldn't summon the courage to speak it, but that she desperately longed for me to take control of her.

Over the next two days of the conference I began to flirt with her. Little things at first, but she rapidly upped the ante. In no time we were sending incredibly suggestive texts back and forth. At one point, she approached me and began to apologize. She was concerned that her behavior would lessen my opinion of her. I told her to think nothing of it, that flirting was just harmless fun, that we had known each other so long it was almost like just guys' locker room talk. Even so, I could tell from the intensity of her gaze when we spoke or caught each other's eyes across the room that she was excited and aroused.

As the second day of the conference wound down she asked me about grabbing a quick bite at a nearby restaurant. I happily agreed, hoping to just continue our flirting but willing to see where the conversation might take us. In no time we were seated in an intimate, secluded corner with a plate of bruschetta spread before us. She slowly, haltingly began telling me about a side of herself that I'd had a few glimpses and suspicions of but had not really imagined to be possible in someone who always carried herself so demurely, so properly, so (apparently) naively. I was awestruck as she related more and more of her sexual past with me.

Her encounters with other women.

Her long-term affair with a married man fifteen years her senior.

Her exhibitionist experiments.

And most stunningly, her desire to be dominated- to be conquered, to be marked, to be used. And how this revelation in her past relationships had always scared away the men she was with, how she had hidden this part of her nature, how she had kept it from her husband of twenty years, and how she could not keep her need to submit unexpressed any longer. She told me this with such total trust that I felt awed and intimidated. Because I knew how much courage it had taken her to speak the words aloud. And because I knew I could provide what she wanted- what she needed. I also understood why my attraction to her had endured and always remained so vivid and fresh. Our minds had been meeting on this level for years, and thinking back over our history together all of the clues suddenly slipped in to place. How she always took the time to acknowledge me, how she would get me something to drink in a meeting, how she would always seek my approval after a presentation.

Within days we had arranged a brief hour together. I hungered for her body so much that I couldn't adequately dominate her in our first session. I had to get to know her first anyway, but the way her whole being reacted to the touch of my hand around her throat, how she quivered when I made her kneel naked before me, how she couldn't keep her hands off of me in her desire to please, all these gave me the keys to furthering our new-found relationship. She took me in her mouth; I took her from behind; I threw her on the floor and bound her hands behind her back. I overpowered her as she struggled until she willingly yielded to me, indeed begged for my hard cock. I played with her pussy until she cried out for me to stop, then continued until she experienced her first female ejaculation. I marked her exquisite tits and belly with my cum. I told her what a good girl she was, that she would indeed prove capable of pleasing me. The look of devotion in her eyes as she gazed back at me was breathtaking. Our essences were meeting on a level that we had denied ourselves for too long...

To be continued...