Meeting Sir

"Guess what?" I typed into my instant messenger.

"What?" I received instantly.

"I'm coming to NYC at the end of the month! Too bad I don't know someone who could show me around."

After a minute, I read, "Yeah, that is too bad. Sucks to be you, I guess. LOL! Oh, wait, wait: I do believe I know someone who might be available."

"Do you now?"

"Oh, yes. He's perfect for you: tall, dark, handsome, a native, AND good with a paddle."

My pussy flooded with desire at those words from my online lover. We had been together online for over a year and this would be our first chance at a face to face meeting. I would be traveling to New York with my husband, who had a series of meetings. It wasn't the ideal arrangement, but I didn't have any other reason to go. I had just learned that morning that I could accompany my husband and already I was a bundle of nerves.

John, my online lover, fed my need to be dominated and spanked. I had asked my husband to be more forceful with me, but he treated me like spun glass. He always had. It was so gloriously sweet when we were first married, but I was getting the proverbial seven year itch, and getting it bad. I had changed and my needs had changed.

I wanted—no, I needed—a lover to spank me and use me and force me. I wanted to feel excited and exciting. "Treasured" is lovely, of course, but sometimes I wanted "Dirty."

So, I went online. I didn't start out with the idea of finding a lover. I started out just reading some sexy stories. I found out lots of women must feel like I feel—there were so many stories! Then I found the forum. I created a name and started participating. I quickly found that I could be more open, more daring, or even shocking. It was an intoxicating feeling of freedom and I was soon hooked.

Somehow, I fell into an easy relationship with John. It didn't start out sexual, but as we emailed, IM'ed, and chatted we revealed more of ourselves and our desires. Soon it became obvious our sexual desires were two halves of the same whole. John was the missing piece of me.

He introduced me to all sorts of feelings, toys, and practices that I had never experienced before. He was an amazing lover—and all from a thousand miles away. Now, finally, we would have a chance to meet in person. I hoped that we would have the same chemistry in person as we did online.

The next month crawled by. John and I made our plans for meeting, but that still left most of the time to an excited anticipation of the event.

Finally, finally, my husband and I made our way to New York. We'd be there for a week, for his meetings. I'd probably never see him, except late at night. I knew I would have lots of time to see the sights—I was particularly interested in visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art. After checking in to our hotel Monday morning, that's the first place I went.

John texted me to say he had taken Tuesday off at work and would spend the whole day with me. I was so excited: I can't even remember the paintings I went to look at!

I prepared a fake itinerary in case my husband asked any questions, but he was gone before I even got up that morning. I carefully prepared myself for my lover: a full shave of my legs and pussy and then dressing in the bra, panties, garter belt, and stockings that I had bought especially for the occasion. I slipped on the little black dress and my fuck-me heels, picked up my special bag, and headed out to meet John.

John and I had exchanged photos, but nothing prepared me for the impact of meeting my lover in person. I knew that he was tall, with dark hair and eyes, and a sexy air about him that showed even in his pictures. But the way his smile lit up the room and the way his eyes drew me to him and the way subtle smiles played across his lips—those things I didn't know. And they devastated me.

I remember nothing of the coffee shop we met in that morning. All I remember is heat. A burning, searing fire in my brain, my nipples, and my cunt. John fed that fire the whole time we were there—touching me, teasing me, kissing me. He sat next to me at a tiny table, knees and feet entwined. He rubbed small circles on the back of my hand then sprinkled feathery kisses on the inside of my wrist.

He slipped his hand under the table and laid it on my thigh. After a moment, he inched my skirt up my legs. I squirmed, but stopped when he told me to be still. He asked me, "Are we going to do this, or not?"

I nodded.

"Answer me," he quietly demanded.

"Yes, Sir." I responded quietly. "We are going to do this, Sir. Please, Sir?" A chill went down my spine as I realized I really was going to let this man fuck me any way he wanted to.

He went back to hiking my skirt up my legs. My bare thighs were showing above my stockings and everyone seated around us could see. I felt my face burning. John decided he'd teased me enough and he stood. He picked up both of our small bags, then held his hand out to me. When I stood he moved his hand to the small of my back, and then to my ass. We walked like that to the hotel where he had reserved a room.

I asked John why we didn't just go to his place, since he was single. He said it was too far out. We wouldn't have to waste time traveling this way. I accepted his answer. Based on the amount of time it had taken me to get to the Met from my hotel room, it seemed sensible.

He retrieved the door key and we headed to the elevator. At that time of day, we were the only ones in it. John immediately turned to me and kissed me on the lips. Our first real kiss. It was magical! It was passionate! It was everything I hoped it would be!

We stumbled to the room. John quickly swiped the key card then threw our bags on a chair. We attacked each other: his hands unzipping my dress, my hands pulling at the buttons on his shirt. I slipped out of my dress and panties. He watched me as he undressed, looking at me hungrily.

He said, "Babe, I've gotta be in you right now, no playing around. I've waited too long for this. I promise after this will be for you."

He stalked me backwards to the bed until I collapsed on it. He grabbed my legs and jerked me close to him. He set his cock at my warm, wet entrance, and pushed slowly all the way in. He stopped and groaned, "SO fucking good!"

He retreated then slid slowly in to the hilt again. He groaned again, "Too damn good!"

He pulled back out and pinched his cock for a moment. When he was able again, he started fucking me, fast and hard. This was what I wanted: a man so desirous of me that he can't control himself! He punished my pussy with the force of his fucking. The kind of fucking I wanted so bad. An orgasm quickly built and I was screaming out wordlessly, my pussy grabbing his cock. He screamed out, "Fuuuu!" and his cum jetted deep into my pussy.

After a minute, he scooped me up higher on the bed. He lay down beside me and petted me, cooing sweet nothings in my ear. He always did that when we were online, too—it was one of the things that kept me coming back to him.

The cocoon of pleasure he had woven around us lulled us both to sleep.

Some time later, I woke up. Or, I thought I woke up. I couldn't be sure as I couldn't see. I tried to swat away whatever it was obstructing my vision and realized I couldn't move my hands. I tried kicking. I couldn't move my feet either. I called out, a little scared, "John? John is that you?" No one answered though.

Suddenly I smelled the sharp tang of orange peel. Something cold and wet touched my lips, insisting to be let in. I opened my mouth and the expected orange slice slid in. I ate it, grateful for the cool juices. Another orange slice touched my lips and I opened my mouth for it eagerly. But no orange slice slid in. Instead I jerked as I felt the cool juices of the orange, I assume, drip down on my breast. That was followed by a warm mouth licking and sucking the juices away.

Next I heard the sound of a lighter being flicked, and the slight smell of burning. I jerked again, violently, when hot wax was dribbled over my tummy. I cried out and another orange slice was put in my mouth. I ate the orange slice as the wax cooled.

Next, I felt tickling on the soles of my feet. It was so light I wasn't sure if it was even there. I concentrated on determining what, if anything, was happening to my feet.

So I was startled by a finger softly investigating the folds of my pussy. My attention focused on that finger. I moaned and it was replaced with an ice cube. I shrieked with the shocking cold of it as it followed the path the finger had previously traced. My shrieks brought a hand down firmly on my mouth.

The ice cube was pushed into my cunt. I squirmed and wiggled, gasping with the cold, trying to dislodge the cube. I managed not to shriek, though, and the hand slowly moved down from my mouth to a breast. At first the hand just cupped my breast, allowing my nipple to brush against the palm as I tried to move away from the ice. But gradually the hand began squeezing; pleasantly firmly and then tighter and tighter until it was the hand I wished to get away from. A mouth descended on my other breast then, sucking sweetly. A tongue flicked gently back and forth across the tight nub of my nipple as the other breast was being held in a vice grip. The pleasure at one breast and the pain from the other confused my senses. I didn't know whether to moan in agony or ecstasy.

Suddenly the hand and the mouth were both gone. Relief and regret flooded me at the loss. As the throbbing in the mauled breast ebbed, a fire began to burn in the other. There must have been something in his mouth, I realized, as the heat scorched my nipple and aureole. I panted and huffed with the growing agony of the burn.

My senses were distracted just a bit as I felt the feather-light tickling on the bottoms of my feet again. I tried to shift my attention to the more pleasurable tickling and was grateful to find the burn receding as the tickling took over. I realized, as the tickling began to move up my legs, that it must actually be feathers. They danced across my skin, leaving me delightfully sensitized. Higher up my leg to my thighs the feathers danced. I began to anticipate their touch on my pussy. What would that feel like, I wondered. They'll get all wet, I thought, giggling.

The feathers spent an agonizingly short time teasing my pussy before they moved up. Tickling across my tummy made me squeal and giggle and try to get away again. But dancing across my breasts was delightfully teasing. I pushed my breasts up into the teasing feathers, but they moved on to my neck and face. When the feathers kissed my lips I smelled my arousal on them.

The kiss of the feathers was replaced by the kiss of two orange-sweet lips. I eagerly returned the kiss.

A hand cupped my mound, just resting there as we kissed. I pushed my hips up to try to increase contact with the hand. Fingers slowly traced up and down my pussy while the thumb started big circles around my engorged clit. The kiss ended as the fingers pushed into my wet hot core, one at a time. After three fingers were inserted, they began to fuck me. The thumb circled tighter around my clit.

I gasped with pleasure, only to find my mouth immediately filled with cock. The cock's movements matched the fingers' movements. I felt gloriously dirty and well-used being fucked in two of my holes simultaneously. As my orgasm approached, my mouth stilled as I focused on the thumb strumming my clit. The cock and the fingers increased to a furious pace. I arched off the bed, gagging on cock, but not caring.

I heard muffled sounds as the cock slipped from my throat. I inhaled deeply, gasping, while my pussy kept clenching. I felt hot wet cum splash my mouth and neck. I stuck my tongue out and licked up what I could reach.

One by one my limbs were released. Then the mask covering my eyes was lifted. John took each hand in his, massaging the blood back into them. He moved to my feet and did the same with my ankles. He wiped the remaining cum from my face using a wet cloth and a caress. I sighed deeply.

John lay down beside me and pulled me to him. "That was amazing, pet."

I nodded. I couldn't express my happiness and satisfaction adequately, except to try to do so with kisses. He let me pepper his face and upper chest with light kisses for several minutes, then took my face in both of his hands, stilling it. He captured my eyes with his and I saw all of his longing for me in them. My heart skipped a beat as the precious moment stretched out. He slowly lowered his mouth to mine, kissing lips to lips, sweetly, then with more pressure. Soon he was ravishing my mouth and I was breathless with desire again.

He broke the kiss, still cradling my face. He chuckled low and said, "I'm good, pet, but not that good. Come. Let's eat and rest a bit."

I sat up in bed, smiling, and John brought over a large tray filled with crudites and finger sandwiches. We fed them to each other, each of us suddenly ravenous. John had ordered champagne as well. We toasted each others' most favorite body parts, giggling and kissing.

Soon we were sated yet tipsy. We fell to the bed in a tumble of limbs and were both asleep again in a moment.

I awoke some time later, needing to pee. I extricated myself from John's embrace as gently as I could and padded, naked, to the bathroom. Returning to the bedroom, I noticed John's pants laying across a table. The hump where his wallet was in his pocket was clear. I looked at the wallet and realized I could find an awful lot of either proof or disproof of the things John had told me over the last year. Was he really single? No kids? Never married?

I was tempted, very tempted. I reached for the wallet but paused, then pulled my hand back. I made the conscious decision, as I had many times before, to trust him. I had no other choice.

I turned to the bed. There he was: John, Sir. My lover. In word and now in deed. My heart filled with emotions I wasn't sure I could handle. How was I ever going to be able to walk away from him after this? My eyes filled with tears I struggled not to shed.

John lifted his head and looked directly at me. His head tilted as he said, "Hey, now, pet! None of that!"

I tried a shaky smile.

John stood up and reached for me. I walked into his embrace. He wiped a tear from my cheek that I hadn't realized I'd cried. "Our time is short, yes," he said. "But that just means we have to make the most of it, doesn't it?"

I nodded against his chest. How did he know me so well, I wondered for the hundredth time.

"Now what can I do to jolly you out of your funk?" John made a big show of pretending to ponder the question deeply. Already my mood began to lift.

"A joke, a joke!" he cried. Wiggling his eyebrows theatrically at me, he asked, "What does a wicked chicken lay?"

"I have no idea," I replied, smiling broadly.

"Deviled eggs!"

I groaned at the joke, but John's overly dramatic, triumphant recital of the answer had me laughing out loud. John laughed along with me.

We hugged after that, John looking down into my eyes. His smile held approval. "There's my pet." He dropped a kiss on my nose.

I was so gratified to win John's approval. I often felt as though I lived for his approval, and this was one of those times. I was so very tempted to tell him that I loved him, but I refrained. We had agreed long ago not to use "the L word." Perhaps we could keep our emotions under control if we neither said it nor heard it. Well, we thought it was worth a try.

John went to the bed and pulled out all the restraints he had used on me before. He grinned at me as he asked, "Ready to ramp it up?"

The undisguised want in John's face and voice nearly undid me. The hint of danger in the idea of "ramping it up" sent a frisson of fear down my spine. I felt goose pimples raise on my skin.

I think John saw that instant of fear—I saw his cock jump and grow. He narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice, pointing to a small desk. "Bend over the desk."

John used the restraints to lash my wrists and ankles to the legs of the desk. Satisfied with his work, he walked around the desk, looking at me. My asshole and pussy were completely exposed to him. I felt embarrassed and vulnerable. But I knew that he was seeing a wet pussy, with lips engorged in desire.

The longer he looked at me, the more apprehensive and yet impatient I grew. I whimpered with desire and frustration.

As though he was waiting for my whimper, he then moved to stand in front of me. I could see his cock fully hard, bobbing in my face. He grabbed a big handful of my hair and used it to hold my head still. His other hand guided his cock to my face, rubbing it across my cheeks and lips.

"Open, pet."

I opened my mouth and he slid his cock between my lips, his hands going to my head and down my back. He ran his fingers through my hair once, then again, but stopped with his fingers buried in my hair and gripping my head. He held my head still and pumped his hips back and forth. I swirled my tongue around his cock. My mouth filled with saliva, then ran out, coating my chin.

Being tied up and used was quite erotic, but it wasn't quite enough. I wanted...more. As John pulled back from my face, I spit his cock out and demanded, "Fuck my face, dammit!"

John looked at me like he couldn't quite believe I had just said that. I couldn't either, actually. But, then he obliged. He hammered his cock into my open mouth, gagging me as he hit the back of my throat. However he only did it a few times. Then he pulled back out again.

I whined, "No!"

John walked behind me and after a moment I felt a shocking blow across my ass. It was loud and made me jump and gasp. The paddle slammed my ass again and again. I was having a hard time catching my breath until he stopped. My ass stung. I thought it was probably glowing cherry red.

There was an unnerving silence until I felt pressure at the opening of my pussy. I thought it was either his cock or a dildo. It pushed in just a shade, then withdrew. It smeared my juices all over my pussy, lips, clit, and asshole, too. It took only a moment until I was trying to capture it within my pussy and groaning with the teasing torture of it.

In a low, even voice, John said, "You don't demand. You ask nicely."

I was desperate for his cock. With no thought to pride, I begged for it. "Please, Sir? Please fuck me?"

John made me wait another agonizing moment, then slowly brought his cock to my dripping wet pussy. He positioned it, just touching my opening, tantalizing me further. Finally, he slid slowly, deeply, all the way into my quivering, needy cunt.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I groaned, "Oh, god, yes!"

John grasped my ass, kneading it, as he fucked me deeply, but slowly. He stretched me so wonderfully at first, but I felt my orgasm slip away at the relentlessly methodical fucking. I was still tied to the table, yes, but where was the dirty fucking I wanted?

A chant began in my mind: "Fucking fuck me, you fucker!" I enjoyed the naughtiness of the words so much. I didn't realize that I actually said them out loud.

John stopped completely. The cold steel in his voice when he said, "What did you call me?" sent a shiver down my spine.

I tried to appease him by answering, "Sir" but the lie came out as a squeak.

He said, "I am fucking you. But don't call me a fucker."

He moved back in front of me and shoved his cock back in my mouth. He fucked my mouth hard, groin slamming into my nose, balls slapping my chin.

"You better fucking learn to talk to me, slut, or you will only drink my cum and your pussy will be a dry desert."

I tried to nod my head as he used my mouth with his cock. He held my head as he fucked my mouth hard. I gagged with each deep thrust.

Finally he stopped, pulling out and crouching down before me. He captured my eyes with his and asked, "Understand?"