They knew each other by batch. But they had never seen each former before.

They had been sexually intimate in fashion nearly couples had never imagined. But they had never touched.

They had been in a deeply pull relationship for months, learning to trust and please and deal for each other.

And now, at live, they were going to meet.

It was something neither of them had ever expected. They had met online and quickly learned that they lived thousands of miles and an ocean apart, she in Scotland, he in the American Midwest. Neither of them was ever in all likelihood to travel anywhere near where the other lived.

She had answered a personal ad he had placed on a certain website she frequented and after a few email commutation and online chat she had agreed to get his striver and call him lord.

She came to believe herself his property ; she slept with"His"dog collar around her neck and often wore it during the day when her wearable would allow it to remain unseen.

She performed the titillating tasks he gave her—masturbating in public places ; wearing a vibrator inside her pussycat for the total length of her hour-long bus ride home from piece of work ; kneeling in figurehead of the undefendable door to her flat wearing cypher but her arrest and leash and a polarity declaring her"…Master's good little doggie"—and countless others which made her head swim with the naughtiness and hardihood of them.

She loved following his education and loved writing her report card to him afterwards describing in item how well she had performed his task and how she had felt while performing it.

She loved all the little rituals he had assigned to prompt her on a day-by-day base that she belonged to him : every daybreak sending him a detail list of what she was going to wear ; writing"This belongs to…"followed by his name, on a unlike part of her eubstance each day ; kneeling, when she got place from oeuvre, for five mo with her manpower behind her head, facing the door of her categoric as if expecting him to come through it at any moment and use her for his pleasure. She loved touching herself at his dictation and not being allowed to have an climax without commencement begging his permission.

She loved everything about their erotic relationship. But she also loved just chatting with him online, talking about whatever was going on in their animation, drifting sideways into long, derisory flight of steps of conversational fancy, focusing in on what was working and what wasn't in the social organisation of their Master/slave relationship ( he was not one of those Masters who simply gave orders and expected to be obeyed ; he always wanted to know how to make believe the experience wagerer for her ) and just learning more about each other.

Before long they had become friends. She found it surprisingly comfortable, this strange, long-distance family relationship with a man who would one moment be commiserating with her about the fact that her flatmate rarely cleaned up, and the succeeding ordination her to despoil, put the handgrip of her feather-duster up her ass and dust the piece of furniture with it, hands behind her head as always, while imagining that he and his protagonist were sitting there watching and fondling her as she did so.



The week had turned into calendar month. They had had disagreements and dispute like any duet, and sometimes computer-related failures would make it impossible to put across for a piece, but overall theirs had been a stalls relationship, based as lots on the affectionate attentiveness they had for each other as on their shared erotic adventures.

And now they were going to meet. His company had unexpectedly sent him to John Griffith Chaney for a few days and right now, at this very instant, his flying was about to set ashore at the Edinburgh airport—a tripper he was making especially to see her.

She bit her lip nervously. His flight had been delayed and she had been waiting a recollective time. It was now very late and the aerodrome was nearly deserted.

She had no idea what to have a bun in the oven ; they knew each other so well and yet were complete unknown. They had exchanged flick of trend, but it was quite another thing to actually be in each other's presence—to really see a face, hear a representative, smell, touch…

Touch. She shivered. In just a mo he would be walking towards her, his eyes seeking her. What if even after all they had shared they found each other untempting ? Or worse, if only one of them did ?

She knew he was self-aware about being so much older than she was, and she had told him that it made no remainder to her. She had told herself the like thing more than once in the close few hr, hoping it would be true.

She shivered again, even though she was bundled up in her wintertime pelage and scarf. It was in fact quite warm in the airdrome and she would have loved to remove her coat and carry it over her arm, especially after waiting all this time. But she couldn't, not without revealing that she was wearing her dog collar -- with the leash veil beneath the back of her dress and lightly wrapped around her waist.

He hadn't told her to do this. He had been very careful to be for sure she understood that he had no expectation. That she had the right to take one flavor and take the air away if that's what she felt she needed to do. As if she could possibly be that cruel, she had thought to herself. No thing what, even if there were no attractiveness, she would smile and hug him and make him feel welcome. She would sit with him and spill the beans, and maybe they'd have something to eat together before they went their sort out ways.

Oh god, she couldn't stand to think of that possibility ! What if get together each other spoiled everything ? Then it would be too lately, and there would be no way to unmake it. They would lose everything they had built up together. She should leave now and send an apologetic promissory note -- something about a family unit emergency brake -- later. She should…

There he was.

He saw her at the Sami moment and quickly swerved out of the pedestrian dealings towards her. He looked very often like his icon, she thought -- a little more well-worn, of course, from the trip, with its endless delay, and the lateness of the minute. She could see the fatigue in his walk, and the effort it cost him to tolerate upright and smile at her—but there was no mistaking him. His grinning was genuine, his pleasure in seeing her still waiting for him obvious, but there was also a hesitancy, a watchfulness, and she knew he was waiting to see if she would turn away.

Instead she ran to him and threw her limb around him and gave him a hanker, loving hug, which he returned, dropping his diminished travel lawsuit to the floor. After a while she drew back and they simply gazed at each other, breathing each other in. She found his gaze intense, as she'd expected, but full moon of warmth. She was so relieved ; whatever happened or didn't fall out adjacent, she was certain they would still be Friend afterward.

She started to speak, to greet him, but stopped, mystified, when he held up his hired hand. He took her arm and, after looking around for a present moment, picked up his typesetter's case and gently steered her into one of the eating establishments that lined the concourse. There was no service at this hour of row but the seating area was still undefendable ; he led her to a tabular array more or to a lesser extent out of view of the concourse, and they sat opposite each other.

He reached across the table and took her manpower in his. His eye searched hers more deeply now, just as she searched his, and she realized there was an crucial, intimate conversation being carried on without a word being spoken. That they were each looking for the person they had thus far known only as words on a estimator screen.

The brightness level was dim but it seemed to her that his eyes shone with a light all their own and she felt almost as if she could see, not her reflection, but herself as he saw her. She wondered if he was experiencing the same thing.

She had never done this before -- simply sat and gazed into someone's eyes for such a long time. She found it disturbing, but in a effective way. It was a sensual, emotional…possibly even spiritual experience, she thought -- to be so utterly aware of another person and get it on that he was just as conscious of you. It was almost as if the lines of breakup between them were blurring…blending. She noticed that she was barely breathing.

She had no idea how long they sat there like that -- it felt like a minute out of clock time. But finally, without moving or taking their middle from each former -- without a unmarried noticeable change -- she knew that they had finished their conversation. The feeling in his eyes was now a simple question.

She gently withdrew her paw from his and stood up. Still holding his regard she unfastened and removed her coat, and then her scarf, and draped them over her chair. She watched his gaze travel from her boldness down to the collar around her cervix, linger for a moment and then act back up to her centre as she walked around the table and stood before him.

She had dressed simply, not wanting to appear too seductive or blowzy in case matter didn't work out. But the gray wearing apparel she had chosen suited her figure well, she thought, and it was both sleeveless and, more importantly, collarless, the better to demonstrate off her neck and the dog collar she wore for him. This meter of class she would normally take at least don a blouse or sweater of some kind underneath it—but right now she was extremely glad she hadn't.

Slowly, she lifted her coat of arms and locked her hands behind her head as he had so often ordered her to do online. Mmmm…the way he was looking at her now, the warmth and desire in his regard, made her feeling wonderfully sexy. It had been worth the trip just for that.

Not that it was over yet ; not by any agency. She held the pose for a spell longer, basking in the thrill of finally standing before him as she had so often dreamed. Then she reached down the spine of her attire, grasped the trio and shook it loose from around her waist. She kept her gaze on him as she pulled the end of the tercet free and turned her catch around.

And even though it felt like a very solemn instant she was ineffectual to maintain from grinning as she held the leather loop in her hand…and offered it to him.

He reached up slowly to get hold of the loop in both hands. When he looked back up at her his grin added touches of wonder and gratitude to the all-encompassing affectionateness of his gaze and for the first clip in her life-time she felt as if she, herself, was a gift. He tugged gently on the leash, pulling her down bridge player over script until their faces were almost touching, then he turned his head slightly and kissed her. Simply kissed her, as a man kisses a woman, with cipher of maestro or slave in it even though he was holding her by the leash.

She dared to direct her bridge player upon his shoulders…because her legs were shaking. She did not dare to use her tongue or even open her mouth, only tried to communicate by the thin part of her lips that her oral cavity was his to enjoy. But he simply kissed her, raising one hired man to cup the backbone of her head, for a prospicient, wondrous moment.

When he released her she waited a instant to see if he wanted more, then slowly returned to her standing position, placing her hands behind her headland again. She waited. After a mo he released his hold on her leash long enough to shrug out of his coating and let it fall over the dorsum of his chair, then seized the three again and gently urged her finisher with it until she stood between his parted legs. He was wearing a black cotton plant sweater over tan corduroy jeans and even in the dim Christ Within she could see the gibbosity of his erection, which aroused her powerfully, knowing that she was the cause of it.

Again he let go of the ternion. Then, slowly, he began to ingest ownership of her.

He began by resting his hands on the backs of her human knee and raising them in a long caress up the spine of her thighs to go away under her dress, holding her in his gaze the intact time. He cupped and stroked her behind through her scanty, and she felt her rima oris fall exposed in response.

But they were in a populace place and instinctively she tore her gaze away from his, looking over her shoulder to see whether they were visible from the multitude. They were not—his reaching gate had been near the end of the concourse, which now seemed deserted -- but in that same minute she felt his hands stop their sensuous motion and withdraw from under her dress. She instantly turned back to him. He was looking up at her ; he was shaking his school principal slightly and his grammatical construction was displeased.

He stood up and walked behind her. He seized her wrists and roughly pulled her arms down to her side before releasing his hold. And for one horrible moment she was sure he was simply going to walk away from her and never reappearance.

Instead he unfastened and unzipped the back of her frock, then before she knew what was happening jerked it from her berm and down past her waist, letting it fall to the floor…leaving her standing in just her bra and panties.

She gasped out loud and immediately bent to pull her clothes back up.

…Then she stopped.

She felt his gaze on her from behind ; heard the unspoken question.

She hesitated a moment longer. Then, slowly, trembling in every limb, she straightened up. After another here and now she raised her arms, placed her hands behind her head again…and waited.

He made her look a foresighted clock time. So long, in fact, that she once again began to dread that he had walked away, leaving her like that as a punishment. But she didn't daring turn to look.

She waited, her breath ragged and her throat dry.

She felt him approaching long before she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He took his clock time, walking slowly around to place upright before her. He took her look in his handwriting and once again stared searchingly into her eyes. She gave him the same answer as before, though this time it required a lot more courage. Because now it was genuine. Now she was standing in an drome eatery in her bra and panties and a collar and ternary, where people could be passing by just railway yard away. She was surrendering her will and her self-worth to a man whom she had just met, but whom she thought—she hoped, desperately -- she knew well enough to confide with them.

So when he scooped her breasts out of her bra and began to purloin her nipple, hard at inaugural and then much harder, she forced herself to keep on her eyes on his and remain in place. She bit her lip and whimpered though, from pain and stimulation in equal measure.

Eventually he released her and she was ineffectual to confine a gasp of relief. He smiled slightly at that, and she was glad she had pleased him, however unintentionally. But he wasn't through testing her dedication, apparently, because he took hold of her tether once more and used it to pull her gently down, first to her knees and then onto all fours.

Then he took her for a walk.

At first it was like obedience training : a few dance step forward, stop ; a few to a greater extent, catch ; a tug upward on her troika to get her to sit up ; forward to get her John L. H. Down and moving again. It felt both dreamlike and humiliating, crawling around with her breasts hanging out of her bra, and the further he led her away from the spot where her dress had fallen the more anxious and excited she became. She wondered if he had any thought how completely and mindlessly aroused she was.

He was walking her in circles now, with her crumpled dress at the gist. Each time around the circle widened a piddling, and she thought she understood the dot he was making by taking her farther and farther away from her only protection. So she kept on crawling, without suspension or hesitation…even as the circles widened to the point where she was sometimes completely exposed to the stack of anyone who might be passing by on the concourse.

At first it was only for a moment -- the sudden flash of neon brightness on her cheek startling her even as it slid along her crawling eubstance and disappeared as she returned to the dimness of the eating place. She was unable to forestall a gasp from escaping her lips but she kept her eyes resolutely forward and continued to cower, unable to tell whether she'd been seen or not.

The side by side flip took her even farther into the Inner Light and kept her exposed for several seconds. She knew it was coming, of course, and did her best to organise herself mentally ; if this was what he required of her then she was going to do it, no matter what. So when she entered the illuminate she raised her look to it, set up to come across the gaze of anyone who looked at her and to accept that person's reaction, no matter what.

There was no one. She was almost disappointed.

He must get sensed what she was feeling because even as the circles grew wider their pace became slower, then slower still. She was exposed for ten seconds…then thirty…then almost a full minute. Once she saw the back of a man in a airplane pilot's uniform passing by just as she was entering the scupper area. Another time a heavy-set man pushing a cycle trash cask came into view at the end of the multitude just as she was crawling out of sight but must suffer passed by as she was making her slow orbit within the restaurant, as he wasn't there when she came around again.

So far no one had seen her…and after a while she ceased to care, one way or the other.

She was by then in a spell of arousal, nipples blotto as they swayed beneath her, the crotch of her panty so wet that it was chafing the insides of her second joint. She was so caught up in the private world of her sensations that she nearly forgot that she was on the end of a tierce. Which was a fault, as she soon found out.

The maiden meter reading that she should have been paying attention to her headmaster was when a sudden pressure on her collar jerked her to a check. He had simply stopped walking and she had heedlessly continued crawling until she ran out of leash and nearly bruised her neck. The mo clue was when he used the troika to drag her, choking and gasping, into an upright position from behind, regardless of the fact that they were at a point where they were in full moon view of the concourse. Instinctively she threw one arm over her chest and her other hand over her loins to wrap up herself…

…Then once again, by sheer force of will, she raised her bridge player -- as slowly as if they were weighted with bricks—and locked them behind her top dog. She spread her legs as far apart as she could…and waited, as completely still as her hammer core would set aside. She stared out at the concourse, terrified but at the same time hoping that person would come by. That someone would walk into view, see her—see her kneeling there in a public airport in her bra and panties, pap hanging out, dog taking into custody around her neck and leashed to the man standing behind her. She wanted that someone to block up dead in their tracks and stare at her, mouth open, then quickly count away and festinate on, pretending not to birth seen.

She craved that chagrin right now, craved it more than anything, to prove to her Master the level of her commitment—and to intensify even more the unbelievable titillating intensity of this experience. And when she felt her panties being yanked down around her thighs from behind, felt the sudden jolt of cool air on her wet kitty, it was all she could do to fight off the orgasm she felt surging up between her legs.

But she did fight it, knowing that it was what he would require. She bit her lip until the bust came, literally grunting with the exploit as she clamped down on the undulation of pleasure that was causing her entire body to shake. At long last she succeeded, although the struggle had caused her to bend halfway to the base. When the microseism subsided she straightened herself and took her perspective again, arching her back proudly. She knew he would be pleased with her.

It was firmly to severalize for sure at first, because when he came around and stood in front of her the light from the concourse was at his rear, making it nearly impossible to see his face. But the question became irrelevant when he laced his finger behind her neck, just below where her own men were locked, and gently pulled her facial expression into the front of his pants.

He rubbed her back and Forth, the thin-wale corduroy rough against her cutis. She let her neck-muscles relax and groaned out brassy. ineffective to help herself she began to kiss and even thrash the tremendous bulge behind his zipper whenever her position allowed, her sassing hanging receptive. She had never, even in her most vivid fantasies, experienced this layer of submission and excitement. And somehow the fact that they had yet to speak even a single word to each former made her feel even more like his belongings ; a toy to be used for his pleasance. She pressed her breasts against his thighs, the fabric of his bloomers dragging across her nipples as he pulled her face back and Forth River, up and down.

She heard herself cry out before she had any idea that she was going to do so. The chroma of her stimulation had suddenly spiked the moment her nipples had come in contact with him, and she had known that she was going to amount within seconds. The cry had been one of desperation, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it this meter. The sound echoed up and down the concourse, startling them both.

But he reacted instantaneously -- stepping back and forcefully tilting her face up to his. By now her eyes had adjusted to his shadow somewhat and she could see his eyes…feel the top executive of his will as he held her in his gaze. It was as if he were inside her mind, somehow able to control her body as she could not, because the flaming raging inside her began miraculously to sink and then to recede until it was only a raw, yearning superstar, the ardor banked once Thomas More within her loins—for the consequence. She stared up at him, eyes wide, breathing shakily through dry, trembling lips.

He rewarded her with a svelte smile and earnest nod of the head. He leaned down and kissed her dry rim, lightly. Then he straightened and tugged lightly on the trey to wreak her down onto all IV again before setting off…

…Down the concourse.

She allowed herself not even a second's hesitation, shutting her mind down to everything except his will, crawling after him before the mire in the leash had even a prospect to tighten up.

He neither hurried nor looked back, strolling along at a casual step. The concourse was deserted. Unbidden, pictures began flooding into her mind : this same concourse, at noon, thronged with people—men, charwoman and children—all stopping to stare at the man in the black-market jumper as he walked past, leading a pick up, leashed and nearly naked woman crawling after him with her panties halfway down her thighs.

Her pussy gave a sudden throbbing ; she was so overcome by her imaginings that she faltered for a present moment and nearly fell over in a swoon. It took all her determination to keep her tending on the backs of his legs as she hurried to catch up before the collar tightened.

As it turned out he didn't take her much farther. His footprint slowed and then he swerved to the left across the corridor. Focused only on following him, she had no idea where he was headed until the rug beneath her deal, genu and human foot suddenly gave way to little tiles, cold and unsmooth beneath her. As they rounded a corner she looked up and saw a row of stalls to her right, a row of urinals to her left—and realized that he had brought her into a men's restroom.

He walked up to the cheeseparing urinal, looped and tied the end of her triplet loosely around the pipe running into the wall. Then he unzipped his knickers and took out his shaft. It was hugely erect and for a moment she anticipated having to assume it all into her sass right there ; having him yank her upright piano by her hair and simply shoving it down her throat, fucking her without mercy until he was satisfied. When he stepped back from the urinal she was so convinced of what was about to happen that she nearly raised herself to her stifle and opened her mouth, unbidden, stopping herself only when he failed to turn towards her.

She had never seen a man attempt to urinate with an erection before, and she suddenly understood why he had stepped back. The flow of his urine arced upward through the air for the honest part of a yard before falling into the urinal, making the porcelain ring slightly. He sighed with succor and moved airless to the urinal as the pressure sensation lessened and the stream began to slow. Nevertheless in bitchiness of his care the last drops splashed the sharpness of the urinal and dripped onto the floor, and a few more dribbled down his cock.

He grabbed a few theme towels from a nearby wall dispenser and dropped them to the floor in front of her. She looked at them…then up at him…then down again -- and moaned out loud.

She wiped the flooring first—oh god, kneeling at his groundwork, cleaning his piss from the floor like a slavegirl—and then the urinal. This went beyond every submission/humiliation fantasy she'd ever had and it was making her almost dizzyingly horny. She threw the used paper towels into the waste basket, ***********ed a fresh one and turned to face him, raising herself to her knees in planning for cleaning off his cock.

She stared at it longingly for a bit. It was every bit as bombastic as she had so often imagined it and now it was right there in front of her face. She wanted so badly to… No. She was going to complete her task and that was all. She raised her hand clutching the paper towel, tentatively reached out towards his cock…and stopped. She had suddenly become cognizant of the coarse dark-brown report in her hired man ; it felt rough and pettish -- suitable for scrubbing flooring and urinals but not…

On momentum she dropped the newspaper to the floor. She raised her eyes to his and held his gaze as she bent and awkwardly removed her panties. She held them up in front of her with both hands as if offering him the little fight of lacy pink fabric she'd chosen so carefully to wear for him only a few hours—and another lifetime—ago. After a minute she saw consent in his centre, along with a wind of amusement, which pleased her greatly.

She put the panties over her hired man and began to pat him dry.

She tried very hard to simply complete her labor and then return to her office, really she did. And she'd succeeded in patting him very nearly dry. Was it her fault if there were still a few droplets clinging to the hairs on the movement of his balls ? She had to get them off as well, didn't she ?

True, it hadn't been absolutely essential to cup his balls in her panty-covered hired hand and stroke them with the dog of her laurel wreath in decree to houseclean them off. And yes, admittedly, curling the fingers of her free hand around his spear while she did so wasn't entirely for the saki of keeping her equilibrium. And there was really no alibi for it when, a moment later, her mouth descended on the oral sex of his cock and she began tonguing it frantically.

So she was not entirely surprise when he seized her by the haircloth and yanked her to her understructure -- the panties falling to the floor—or even when he shoved her back against the wall between two urinals and used the leash to tie her there with her limb counterpane spacious.

She was, however, a little disturbed when he tucked his cock back into his pants and left.

She wondered if this was to be the punishment for her driving behavior—to be left there until the custodian or maybe even an early on flier the next sunrise discovered her. She imagined an endless transmission line of men coming through—fondling her, using her, leaving her tied there all day. She imagined him leaning against the row of horse barn, watching…and once more she let out a groan of arousal.

A few present moment later he returned. He was carrying his overnight causa in one deal and had her dress draped over his former arm. He hung her dress over one of the stall doorway then set his case down at her metrical foot and crouched to spread it. He withdrew a retentive, white box with an elaborate red bow and stood up again. He offered it to her with a mocking smiling, knowing that she was unable to take it from him.

She was puzzled—if he had brought her flush it was very thoughtful of course, but why was he giving them to her now ? When, however, he removed the box lid with a slight tucket she saw that she had misjudged him considerably. For there, lying on a pad of white cotton plant, was a large Hitachi vibrating wand.

He removed the wand and tossed the box aside. With his free hand he picked her panties up from the floor and squeeze them into her mouth.

Then for the next twenty dollar bill minutes he tortured her with the wand. He massaged her breadbasket, and then her breasts and then her nipples with it. He nudged her legs apart and ran it up and down her thigh, always with excruciating backwardness, always moving a piffling further inward…and upward…but never once touching her where she most desperately wanted it. She writhed and squealed and moaned and babbled through her pantie, to no service. He kept her rightfulness on the very edge of orgasm—not to bring up a concluded breakdown—for longer than she would get ever dreamed possible.

Then, just when she had nearly resigned herself to living forever in this twilight hell where spill was always just a few seconds away, he suddenly lifted the baton and pressed it firmly against her clitoris.

It was as if a dash of lightning had struck between her legs. The shock ran up her acantha and threatened to buck the top of her head off. And this was before he tossed the wand aside, took out his hammer and, seizing her by the hips, began to sleep together her -- hard.

She screamed through the pantie in her mouth as she came. A few bit later she screamed again, for the Lapp cause. She did not scream the third sentence, even as she felt him spurting inside her as he continued to thrust—but that was only because she was very nearly unconscious by then.

Later she was dimly aware of a astute, momentary annoyance in her shoulder as her sleeve were released ... a sentience of falling forward…being caught in his sleeve and gently lowered…and then sudden cold against the entire backbone of her organic structure. Her eyes flickered, and she awoke to happen herself lying on the toilet story. The panties were gone from her mouthpiece ; her mind and shoulder were cradled in his lap and he was gently brushing her sweat-soaked hair's-breadth away from her fount.

She smiled up at him, a little weakly, and he slowly bent down to kiss her."how-do-you-do,"he said softly, then grinned as he added,"Nice to foregather you."He kissed her again and said,"I don't know about you, but I'm a minuscule tired—can we go home now ?"

He helped her to endure and then to dress, smiling his approval when she kept her shoe collar and leash on. Together they went to fetch their coats and then walked out of the airport to her car. They walked slowly, with their munition around each other's waistline, as her legs were still feeling rubbery. They walked in a silence that was now completely prosperous for both of them. She leaned her head on his shoulder, glancing up at him once in a while to remind herself that he was really there.

She had planned to subscribe him to her flat. But it was more than an time of day's private road and they were both exhausted so they checked into a nearby hotel instead. But as it turned out they didn't get a good deal sleep anyway .