Sam I Am Ch. 04

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Their first real-life encounter goes exactly as planned.
4.6k words
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Part 4 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 09/12/2017
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He had a twinge of "Why am I doing this?" while on the plane. In the preceding couple of weeks, he had been too busy talking to her, too focused on her to come to his senses and have a rational thought about what he was doing or why. Now, on the five-hour coast-to-coast flight, he had plenty of time to wait, and it was at this time that he first began to have serious second thoughts. Why was he flying across the country to meet a woman whom he knew almost nothing about? For all he knew, he might not even be meeting the person he'd seen online; perhaps it was all an elaborate hoax and he'd actually be meeting some scam artist who would try to trick him into something. When he thought about it, he realized that such concerns didn't really make sense, but he was trying to think rationally at a moment when he was about to do something kind of crazy. What if she was a serial killer, or a lure used by someone who was? What if she ended up kidnapping him and trying to hold him for ransom? He tried to think of what could go wrong, but he realized after a while that his attempts to think rationally were being counterproductive: the more he tried to think this way, the more irrational and farfetched his ideas became. And so he decided to do what seemed like all he could do at that point: wait and hope that she was genuine.

Later on, he would forget most of the details of their first night. After the plane landed, he must have gotten off and walked into the airport, but all he really remembered was the moment while walking to the luggage carousel when he heard her voice exclaim "Sam!" and he turned around and saw her. He remembered she was wearing a red top with black pants and smart black shoes. He remembered how they hugged each other, and the incredible sensation of energy which their embrace imparted. Her body seemed to radiate a palpable vigor which flowed through her skin into his: everywhere they touched, he felt like a dead man suddenly awakened, and he couldn't get enough of touching her. She must have driven him to the hotel after that, but he had no memory of this. He vaguely remembered taking a shower after they got to the hotel and then getting dressed again before going back out to see her, since he somehow didn't feel ready to go back to her nude even though she had already seem him naked on webcam several times. Then they lay down on the bed together, and she climbed on top of him. Still fully clothed, they embraced and pressed themselves together as if they intended to never separate again. The feeling of finally being able to touch her, of them wrapping their arms around each other and holding each other tightly, was one of the most liberating and exhilarating feelings he had ever had in his life.

They did other things, too. They talked a lot, although it did not matter what they said. They kissed incessantly, they ran their fingers through each others' hair, and later on they did strip down to their underwear. He removed her bra for her and gave her a back massage on the bed. But they were too caught up in the experience of each other's presence, too thrilled at just being able to be together, to actually think about sex, and so on that first night, they left their underwear on and simply went to sleep pressing their bare skin together. It remained one of the most blissful moments, perhaps the purest moment of distilled happiness, they had experienced or would experience in their lives.

When they woke up the next day, they likewise found that sex wasn't foremost among the thoughts or feelings they had. They went out and ate breakfast together. They talked a lot. They went for a walk around the neighborhood. And as the days went by, they became more adventurous: she drove them to a forest where they went for a hike together. Another day, they went to an amusement park by the ocean and spent the day there. They had a lot of fun together. He wasn't in the habit of going outside much, but he found that when he went with her, he enjoyed it. He was a young guy full of energy and ambition, but he didn't know how to direct it. He realized that she was a good lead to follow: she helped him direct his energy and activity in a positive way. It wasn't until later that he realized the same was true for her, as well. Gradually it became apparent to him that she also wasn't in the habit of going outside much, and that his presence was likewise an influence for her to become more physically active and enjoy the experience of going out into the world to explore and experience it. He came to understand that just as her presence made the world a brighter place for him, so did his presence here with her make her world better. But although they were both adults who had been in relationships before, they were both still young in the ways of love, and it was not until much later that they would realize that the joy they experienced and shared was not merely a carefree relaxation from the everyday cares of work and other responsibilities, but the first bloomings of love.

There were some bizarre aspects to her presence. Perhaps foremost among these was the way she filmed everything. She had a videocamera which she was in the habit of bringing along wherever she went, and she was prone to filming anything and everything, constantly, even the most mundane of events. When they got into a conversation, she would film him talking. When they ate, she would film him eating. When they sat and did nothing, she would pause to film their surroundings. She had several reasons for doing this, but foremost among them was just because that way, all their memories were preserved. She was fond of reliving past experiences, and if she ever wanted to relive a positive memory that was pleasant, she could watch it again.

She had somewhat more hidden and devious motives for the constant filming, as well. A second reason for filming their relationship was that it gave her the power to shape the history of the relationship. He would forget details and events after a while, but she could provide video evidence of things that happened, meaning she had the singular ability to define what had happened in their past, and he would just have to agree with her since he couldn't argue against the videos showing him saying and doing things. Whatever she wanted them to remember, she would preserve; whatever she wanted them to forget, she would delete. As his personal history would gradually become their shared mutual history, this allowed her considerable ability to define the course of his life, or at least how he remembered and perceived it. A third reason was that since he knew the things he did would end up on video, he wouldn't want to do anything that he wouldn't want her to reveal later, thus forcing him to do things she wanted and avoid doing things she didn't want. If she and he ever got into a disagreement about what had happened in the past, he would have no hope of winning. She had everything saved. He should have felt intimidated. But although he didn't say anything about it, there was something he liked about it. In the first few days, he had found it odd the way she constantly trained the camera on him, but with time he grew used to it and no longer thought about it.

Considering how intensely their online conversations had focused on sex, it was perhaps surprising how long they went without actually having sex together. What had been raunchy and prurient in online conversations became spontaneously wholesome and relaxed in each other's physical presence. There were elements of the sexual in their interactions sometimes, but these were more psychological than overt. For example, whenever they went to eat somewhere, she would tell him to pay for her food. It was not so much an order or a command as a statement, a declaration that he would pay for her, and although this in itself was not explicitly sexual, it was impossible for either of them to not feel a twinge of sexuality about the experience of her ordering something and him paying for it. She had a power complex. She got off, quite literally in the sexual sense, on having total power and control over people. He had it in the opposite direction: he got off on her having absolute power and control over him. Or rather, he didn't get off on it, in the sense that he didn't orgasm. But the erection he sprouted when she told him to pay for what she'd ordered reminded them both of her power over him. It didn't take long before she no longer told him to pay, but rather waited until he volunteered to do so, and then he would have to ask her nicely for the honor of being allowed to pay for her before she would graciously approve his opportunity to show his subservience to her.

It went on like this for several days. It was not the depraved sex binge he had thought it might become; it was more like an extended date, with them spending their days discovering the world outside, and their nights blissfully curled up in bed together. For a while, they simply did whatever they felt like doing. They talked, they walked and ran together, they laughed, they played, and they both would later remember these days as among the happiest in their lives.

But they would not forever deny their more lascivious desires. It happened one day while he was playing a game on his laptop (which he had brought with him on the trip) that she suddenly walked up to him and, in a voice so commanding that it immediately shot lightning bolts of excitement through his body, commanded sternly: "Turn off your laptop."

A common piece of Internet wisdom advises: "Ladies, if a guy pauses a video game to text you back, marry him." He did one better by actually turning off the game, and indeed the entire computer. He didn't even think about doing otherwise; her voice was one that didn't allow compromise.

"Put down the computer and lie on the bed," she continued in the same voice. Again, what else could he do but comply?

She set to work tying his arms to the head of the bed. It was not a solid headboard but rather a sort of wicker arrangement with ample holes through which she could pass the rope. He did not resist or say anything, but simply watched her with gentle curiosity as she bound his arms above his head. When she was finished, she began to undress. He continued watching her wordlessly, marveling at how beautiful she was. She did not have an especially curvy body: her breasts were not large, her waist flat rather than hourglass, but she was very pretty, and to him she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He could not help but smile as the body of the woman whom he did not yet know he loved came into view. She smiled back at him, and with an endearingly deliberate movement, slipped off her panties and began wiping them on his smiling face.

It is difficult to describe the sensations he went through as this process continued. Her underwear was absolutely soaked; she must have been astonishingly wet in order for her thin panties to have absorbed this much moisture. There was something simultaneously adorably sweet and sadistically depraved in the way she wiped this moisture on his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his forehead. As she continued this process, he entered a transcendental state of mind similar to what people experience during meditation. In BDSM parlance, this state of mind is called subspace, and is often associated with the release of endorphins caused by pain which bondage slaves experience. However, she caused him no pain; she only took control of his body, of his mind, and of his senses, taking him on a natural high in which he felt somehow disconnected from his body, his consciousness in a place where there was only her, only her and the total control she held over him, the degradation of her wiping her vaginal lubrication all over his face, and the satisfied smile this activity brought her. He loved that smile of hers. She was so happy at being able to control him and degrade him in this way, and that made him happier than he had ever been. The world around them disappeared, and yet it was during this experience that the world suddenly came into focus for him. Precisely at the moment when he lost perception of physical reality and shifted his awareness into a conceptual reality where he saw the world only as a series of linked ideas rather than as a collection of physical shapes did he see the truth clearly. Here, under the total control of this woman named Sam, did he suddenly see with perfect clarity that not only did he trust this woman more than he'd ever trusted anyone in his life, he also loved her. It was through this experience of giving himself to her, giving not only his physical body and all his mental thoughts to her, but also focusing all his consciousness and awareness on her, that he gave himself up to the woman he loved. And gazing up at her, at the serene smile she bore as she wiped her secretions on him, he perceived that she might love him too.

"I love you", he blurted suddenly. He didn't even think about saying it; it was a moment of perfect honesty, a moment where he communicated with her without first thinking of what he was going to say.

Her smile deepened, but she gave no verbal response. Instead, she stopped wiping the panties on his face, and after a moment's consideration, she stuffed them into his mouth, not because she hadn't liked what he'd said, but because there was nothing else he needed to say. She made sure that the wettest part of the panties was at the back, pressed against his tongue, so that even in this way he could be as close to her as possible. When this process was done, she climbed on top of him and plopped her crotch down on his face, beginning to slide slowly up and down, pressing her vulva against his nose. As her continuing flow of secretions was beginning to flow into his nostrils, he started to snuffle and struggle a bit, but this backfired as his struggles only excited her more and made the flow more intense. He was forced to breathe through her panties, causing his lungs to fill with her scent, and as she began to approach orgasm, she clenched her legs tightly around his head, drawing his face into her such that even this flow of air was cut off. He might have suffocated if she had remained this way, but she released him after her orgasm passed, and he was momentarily shocked to realize that if she had seen fit for him to do so, he would gladly have died in this position, as to die serving her would have been the best way to fulfill his life.

Time passed. She allowed herself some time to come down from her orgasmic high, but she did not move from her position, sitting atop his chest, looking down into his eyes, his soulful eyes atop that face which she'd rubbed herself to an orgasm on. Presently, she pulled her underwear out of his mouth and began to speak.

"Do you ever wonder why I e-mailed you out of the blue the way I did?"

"I used to. I stopped wondering about it a while ago."

"I realized who and what you are. I realized that you were the right kind of guy for me."

"How so? What kind of guy am I?"

"Weak but strong. Physically and mentally, you're a healthy, smart, and robust person. But you're also completely lost within the maze of your own life."

"I guess I can't argue with that."

"I saw how lost and confused and helpless you were in the things that you wrote. And I wanted to help you. I wanted to give you some guidance, a beacon of light in the darkness."

"I feel like you did."

"Not only did, but still am. And I intend to continue being one for you."

"I appreciate it, really. And I think I'd like that as well. But if I end up following you, doesn't that kind of put you in control of my life? I mean, aren't I sort of signing over my life to you?"

"Of course. That's what you want to do. I saw that in your writing as well: I recognized your deep-seated need to forfeit your self-will to a woman who was willing to take control of you and your life. Someone to lead you, someone whom you could trust to make your life's decisions."

"On the one hand, that sounds nice... but... doesn't it also sound rather manipulative and possessive?"

"That's because I am. That's what we both want."

"I'm not sure I want you to be manipulative and possessive..."

"Then why did your dick get rock-hard when we started talking about it?"

It was funny that she said this, considering that she was facing away from his penis and thus had no way of perceiving his erection. He also couldn't see it since she was still sitting on his chest, but he could feel it all too clearly. There was no use hiding it. Even with his pants still on, he was more than physically naked-his penis spoke to his desires. She knew that when it hardened, she had hit a mentally reactive spot, a button she could push to heighten his arousal.

"Face it, you're a submissive," she continued, noting with satisfaction how even these words made his eyes roll back in that way they did when something aroused him. "You don't just want a dominatrix who'll tie you up and whip you. You want a person to take possession and control of your entire life."

He suddenly felt inexplicably ashamed in that moment, ashamed of his desires and his thoughts. Perhaps it was just how exposed he was: even still fully clothed, she could read his every thought and feeling in his face, and he was suddenly self-conscious about how urgently he needed her to take control of him. He was unable to look into her eyes, her keen, penetrating eyes, and so he diverted his glance, looking away at a spot in the corner of the ceiling.

"Your mouth can lie to me, Sam," she purred. "Your brain can even lie to yourself. But your dick doesn't lie. It tells me what you want. You need me to take control of your life, because your dick can't get hard without me doing so."

"I can get an erection without you being around," he replied quietly. He didn't mean it defiantly, but it probably came out sounding that way, at least a little bit.

"That'll change," she said simply.

He looked up at her with a strange mixture of emotions. He hoped that she would go on to explain what she meant, but she only looked coolly back into his eyes with that broad, self-satisfied smirk she wore when she knew that he was completely in her power. His own imagination began working against him as he started to imagine what she meant. He was afraid of the idea, but he simultaneously wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

"Do you remember what I wrote to you in my very first e-mail?" she asked. "I said that I was probably not as deep as you."

"I remember that," he affirmed.

"Did you ever wonder what I meant by that?"

He paused to think about this. "I had assumed that you meant you don't think as deeply as I do."

"Do you still think so?"

He paused again. "No... If anything, you think more deeply than I do. You notice things before I do."

"Then what do you suppose I meant? Why did I say I'm not as deep as you? What could I have meant by that?"

He paused yet again, longer this time. "I guess there are other ways that a person can be deep."

"What other ways can a person be deep, Sam? Tell me."

"I guess, for example, there's the... sexual meaning?"

He had thought that this would be a stupid thing to say, a reflection of his own overly-sexualized thoughts rather than a sensible answer, but she broke into a grin and gave that self-satisfied little "Mmmhmmm" sound she made when he realized something which she had planned for him. She leaned close to his ear and whispered into it, sending shivers down his spine. "What does it mean when someone is sexually deep, Sam?"

"Um, it means that they have a long vagina, that they can take a long dick inside themselves."

"That's right," she affirmed. "But I don't have a dick to fuck you with, do I?"

"No, you don't."

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