My Master's Imzazi - Prequel Ch. 02

Be sure to read the prequel #1 for background on how my Master and I found each other. A week or so after we began texting one another, my Master sent me a message to which I replied, "I prefer compliance." This was completely outside the context of anything sexual, but it is what opened up the door to our conversations about BDSM. He learned I was a sub, and I learned he was a Dom. This was an unexpected and incredibly exciting twist on our affair, which had yet to be consummated. I set the scene for him a few days before we got together the first time.

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I'm looking up at you, on my knees, you're holding the back of my head with one hand, fucking my mouth, wanting it to last but knowing you can't wait. It totally turns me on to have my mouth fucked by your hard cock, knowing it's giving you such pleasure.

I can feel my pussy contract and reach down to touch myself. You tell me no, I can't touch myself and, increasing your rhythm, knowing I can take it, you shoot your cum deep in my throat. This is the moment when you've lost control, you've been holding out, and I can feel your cock pulsing and you come so much I can't swallow it all. It drips down my chin, onto my breasts. You pull me to my feet, gently wipe me clean, and, easing me down to my back you spread my legs and return the favor.

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Now it's just a few days before we will be together for the first time. I'm remembering what it's like to submit, wanting more from J than he's willing to give. He reminds me how intimate a D/s relationship is, how easy it is to cross the line, to break the ground rules we have set out. I am getting nervous. Nobody has touched my body intimately in years. I haven't been naked in front of a man other than my husband since I was in my early 30s. I'm now 48, my hair has turned grey, I have lines on my face and scars on my skin. J assures me that we all have flaws, we don't get to middle age without them. What if he is turned off by my breasts that have lost their elasticity after nursing two children? What if my pussy isn't pretty enough for him? What if I'm a terrible kisser? My husband had once told me I wasn't a very good kisser, and I never forgot it and was forever insecure thereafter. Is it true?

it's easy for me to write sexy texts and erotic stories to my future lover, but in reality I'm terrified, insecure. What if I can't cum? I don't cum easily, never have done. But his kindness, acceptance, and just genuine goodness, plus just what I have known of him through our professional relationship for many years have generated a deep sense of trust already. I know he will never out me as his lover or as a sub, and I feel very safe being myself with him, sharing my thoughts and feelings. This is the last story I sent him before we met up.

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Good morning, babe. Just a few more days...I'm absolutely committed to not masturbating before then. I think. It's actually hard to refrain at this very moment (which is actually not morning but last night. I'm hoping to sleep in so thought I'd write you before bed).

Here's your breakfast. It's Tuesday. I've driven over to H--, all the way over I'm jolted with waves of desire, knowing that in a few hours your cock is finally going to be filling me, my pussy, my mouth, you'll be pinching my nipples until I beg you to fuck me, God my pussy is throbbing just writing this. That's how the drive will feel, this swirly feeling in my belly, hollow, aching. I know I'm getting wetter and wetter, as I think of all the ways your hand and mouth and cock will pleasure me. I'll be nervous and most definitely excited, you think the anticipation is intense now. Imagine those few hours. You're getting off work and heading to the gym. How can you concentrate on your workout when you know that in an hour or so you'll be stripping me naked? Won't you me hard the whole time?

I check in to the hotel and text you my room number. Now it's feeling very real. I change into the gorgeous underwear I bought just so you can take it off. I have to put something over it so I slip on a dress. Now I have to wait for you. It's intolerable and nerve wracking. I lie down on the bed and slip my fingers into my slit. I'm nice and wet. My heart is pounding. The last few minutes are excruciating. Is this going to be awkward?

You knock on my door and I go to let you in. As soon as I see you I know. It's OK. Those biceps! You reach for me, and I'm free to touch you any way I wish. Your hands slide down and you cup my ass, pulling me closer. There's too much fabric between us. Your hands slip under my dress, they feel hot as they slide into the back of my underwear and you caress and squeeze my ass, pulling me closer. In just a moment you'll remove my dress and I'll be exposed. I hope you like what I'm offering.

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That was almost six months ago. That night we made love for hours, with a break to grab dinner at a nearby restaurant. J admitted later he was also nervous that night, but I had no idea of it. When he stripped me naked, licked my pussy until my legs shook uncontrollably, and finally filled my soaking wet aching pussy with his cock, I awoke from a decade long slumber. He stared into my eyes as I wrapped my legs around him, meeting his every thrust, writhing under him, grinding against him, biting his biceps and chest and shoulders, begging him with my eyes to fuck me forever and never stop. His control was masterful, we fucked for hours. And then he said the fateful words, he crossed the line. As a Dom he should've been more careful. He knew better than I at that time the danger. J said to me, while staring into my damaged soul, "You would make a great sub." And I knew at that moment that I wanted to be that more than anything in the world.

Later, my Master told me that he knew then, the first night we were together, the second time we fucked, that this affair was going to be much more than either of us had wanted or expected. And that has certainly proven true. Within a few weeks our play involved increasing elements of BDSM. The words he spoke to me in bed spun a web around me. So sexy and so insistent, he drew out of me emotions and thoughts I was loathe to part with and which I had not felt in many years. We tried to hold off committing to one another, for I was technically still another man's wife. But the draw was too powerful, and our feeling for one another grew each time we were together. I could think of nothing but him, all day, every day, constantly. His touch, his words, his lips, his cock. Just a whisper of a thought of that moment when he enters me could make me gasp aloud and my pussy would be instantly drenched. The time we spent was like being in a magical world where nothing existed but us. Time stopped as we lost ourselves in one another. Eventually, J gave me my name, Imzadi, 'beloved,' and as was inevitable, I became his sub about two months later. I became My Master's Imzadi.