My Master's Imzazi - Prequel Ch. 01

Before J became my Master, I was just looking to get fucked. I had been in a celibate marriage for years, no romance, no sex, shoving my desire into a box that I hid away in a dark corner of my mind. I'd had a D/s relationship before I was married, and while it was sexy and exciting it was also emotionally damaging. I loved my Master, but he didn't love me. It was an obsession that neither of us could put an end to, until finally we did. My marriage wasn't vanilla, exactly, and it certainly was passionate for many years until my husband's health issues and years of grief took their toll. Our dynamic was so challenging I had to maintain control, always. I forgot how much I longed to submit. I became cold, unemotional, a workaholic. I took care of the finances, the household, the child, every aspect of our lives. I had thought for years to have an affair, but I could never have made myself vulnerable in any way with the men I interacted with in my profession. I was one of the few female school superintendents in the area, and not one of the men was even remotely sexually appealing.

After ten years, I could count the number of times my husband and I had had sex on one hand. I had no desire for him, and could not communicate my sexual needs if I had due to the daily power struggle we engaged in. At this point, I just wanted cock-I figured a couple good hard fucks and I could stay in my marriage, make it work.

Over two years into Covid, I finally attended an educational conference face to face. I was the president of the educational organization hosting the conference, and I invited J to come as a speaker. He was well known to the group, and well liked. Though I had only met him face to face maybe twice in ten years and on zoom a couple times during lockdown, we had a telephone relationship where I called and yelled at him for not approving my grant applications, and he tried to make me laugh to lighten the mood but never could. He thought I hated him, his colleagues thought I hated him, and they joked I would probably stab him in the back if we met in a dark alley. In fact, I thought very highly of him in a professional capacity. He, on the other hand, thought I was hot but prudish. He was so wrong about that.

As president, I was the Master of Ceremonies, so to speak. It was my job to make everyone comfortable and run the sessions, introducing speakers, welcoming new members, etc. When J walked into the room, I did a double take. Several women surrounded him, greeting him like the old friends they were. In my head, I was thinking, "That's J? He's cute. He's hot!" His biceps were, shall we say, well developed and I could see tattoos running up into his sleeve. I went over to greet him and could barely stop myself from touching those sexy fucking biceps. I restrained myself, kept a professional distance, greeted him and thanked him for coming.

That evening he spoke at an event honoring one of my colleagues. As I listened to him, as I watched him, I thought, "This is a good man. He's kind, thoughtful, funny. And sexy as fuck." And I couldn't stop thinking about sleeping with him. He's the one I decided I could trust enough to have an affair with. Wouldn't you know it I was wearing a wedding ring for the first time in a couple years?!

That night I drank a bit too much, tried to make my intentions known but I hadn't flirted in so many years. I learned he was Christian (I'm an atheist Jewish princess) and that he didn't drink (which was a major plus considering my husband was an alcoholic). Later I learned he was trying not to stare at my legs and wondering if I left my room key with the number plainly visible out on the table as a signal, confused about the wedding ring. I couldn't get a read on him (as a Christian was he unwilling to sleep with a married woman?) and when the party broke up, I said goodnight to him as he headed up to his room and I headed to mine. It was a disappointing end to the evening.

The next day J did his presentation with what felt like some flirting directed right at me. Then he left. I couldn't stop thinking about him. I didn't have his cell number, so I emailed him at work asking for it. I would have driven straight to him from the conference if he'd just responded, I was that hot for him.

He didn't reply until the following Monday. I immediately called him. It was an awkward conversation. Were you flirting with me? Um, no, don't think so, wait my female friends tell me I do flirt a lot. How could he not know if he was flirting with me? Come the fuck on, can't you see I'm coming on to you? Needless to say, it was an unsatisfying and embarrassing conversation that some how ended up in text exchanges which led to sexting which led to where we are now. Lovers. Master and slave. Madly in love.

But to begin, I wrote him erotic stories. It took a few weeks for us to discover that he was a Dom, and I was a sub. In the beginning, the stories were hot, feeling each other out, getting us aroused for a planned first meeting which was to be about 3 weeks after the initial flirtation began. Here's the first little story, a prequel to our first time together and to other stories I will post as we fell deeper into each other and our roles, as I became my Master's Imzadi.

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We enter the room. You close the door behind me. I'm feeling nervous, you may or may not be. We look at each other, and I reach up to run my hands down your shoulders, biceps, arms. You run yours down my side, my waist, to the bottom of my dress, then pull it over my head.

You gently push my back against the wall, your eyes taking in my near nakedness. You pull off your shirt, and now I can feel the heat of your body as you lean in and kiss me. You ask me if I'm ready for you and I reach my hand down into my panties to feel my wetness. I pull my hand out, and offer you my fingers to taste. You groan as you taste me, and move down to your knees freeing my breasts as you go so they spill over the cups of my bra.

You bury your face in my panties, smelling my arousal. Now I'm making noises, pushing my pussy against your face. You slowly ease down the front of my underwear, not knowing exactly what configuration of hair you're going to find there. You're pleasantly surprised as your tongue glides over my clit. You pull my panties down further for better access, and spend just a moment savoring how ready I am for your cock. You grasp one of my thighs and push my leg aside so you can explore me just a little deeper. You can feel me trembling, flushing, moaning.

You know I want, no need, your cock desperately and so you take my hand, lead me to the bed, and gently bend me over. You tell me to put one knee up in the bed while you remove your remaining clothes. You grasp your rock hard cock and place it right at the entrance to my slick wet pussy, hearing me gasp. Slowly you enter me, filling me, until your balls are flush against me and you're fully sheathed. You know I won't be able to come from your cock alone but you also know there's plenty of time in the evening for us to get there, and so you enjoy fulfilling my immediate needs.

For now, for this moment, you fuck me slowly, savoring the feeling of my pussy gripping your cock, increasing and decreasing your rhythm, going deeper or harder or teasing me by withdrawing most of the way so you can hear me beg you for more. And when we're ready, when you feel like you've given me enough of what I've asked for, you stop and turn me over, pulling me up and into your arms as you whisper to me what you're going to do to me next.