Meeting My Master

I exited the plane practically holding my breath. I couldn’t believe it. A weekend with my Master in New York City!

There he was waiting for me at the end of the jet way. He smiled at me and we hugged. Then we started walking towards the exit, both trailing our weekend bags. We stopped by the bathroom. “Bring me your underwear.” He said it so matter-of-factly I almost missed the change in his tone. I almost didn’t realize what he was asking. I was in the stall before I really understood that he meant it. I can still see him tucking my black panties into his inside jacket pocket.

In the cab to the hotel his fingers found my thigh. They roamed up under my skirt. They skittered across my naked parts. I was practically panting with desire.

As we entered our hotel room, he changed. That tone was back. The tone that said he was taking control. He ordered me to the corner. He grabbed my skirt, pulling it up over my head. Having me hold it there, baring my bottom to him. It all happened so quickly, but in my mind it was in slow motion. My arms were holding my skirt up as he caressed my bottom while listing all my transgressions: I was late (the plane that is). I took too long in the bathroom. I didn’t respond appropriately when ordered to take off my underwear nor did I present them to him without being asked. There was a long list of silly things that I was to be punished for. He left me in the corner wanting.

My arms were getting tired. I leaned my forehead to the wall. My black booted calves were tired too. The toes were shoulder width apart against the adjacent walls. My wrists now leaned there too. All I could see was the outside of my black skirt. I was dripping with desire.

I heard zippers and drawers and assumed he was unpacking. Still I remained in my corner. I heard doors open and close. I heard water run. Still I remained in my corner. Occasionally his hand slipped across my bottom. I would jump or shiver every time.

After what seemed like an eternity he called me to him. I turned around. He was sitting in the straight-backed chair from the desk. He patted his lap. I went to sit on his lap, but that was not what he wanted. He ordered me to my knees, then, across his lap, hands holding the chair legs, feet spread. He repeated my list of transgressions this time with the number of spanks they had earned me.

He started with a slow warm-up over the skirt. His bare hand heated my flesh as his voice heated my belly. His hand lifted my skirt as his voice became more and more stern. The spanking became more intense upon my bare bottom. I had lost track of the total. I was beginning to shake and squirm. This got me in more trouble and I tried to hold still. Was he still swatting me with just his hand? Tears started to fall from my eyes. Oh my God! He is using my paddle. My bottom must have been bright red by now. It was so hot, as was my dripping pussy.

It took me a few moments to realize the spanking had stopped. Master was gently caressing my bottom waiting for my crying to calm. He scooped me up into his arms and kissed my forehead, my eyes, and my lips. He pushed me down to my knees, undid his pants and presented me with his wonderful cock. I had so longed for this. I couldn’t wait to get him in my mouth. I licked and suckled and begged him let me taste his come. Finally, he grabbed me by the hair, pulling me towards him as he came. He lifted me to the bed, flipped up my skirt pushing my legs wide. With long flat tongue he licked my dripping cunt from perineum to clit, then left me gasping with instructions not to move.

My ass was on fire, burning against the bedspread. My pussy cool where his hot tongue had just been. I was frozen. I wanted to move, to touch myself, to come. He had told me not to move. I wanted to grind my legs together. He had told me not to move. My eyes closed, I waited. My ass so sore I dared not move.

I started when he spoke. He led me by the hand to the bath he had drawn. After a very warm soak, Master washed me, dried me and lovingly applied lotion to my hot and sore bottom. He had laid out my clothes and underclothes (or lack there of), shoes and even make-up. He told me to get ready quickly as we had dinner reservations. We chatted about nothing in particular as we got ready.

It was almost as if we were just friends sharing a room.

~ by Diana on April 5, 2008.

4 Responses to “Meeting My Master”

  1. Wow, it was amazing, I wonder how dinner was? Did you eat at the bar standing?

  2. Gotta love a dom who knows what he’s doing. Very nice.

  3. I’m going to save reading Part Two, for tomorrow.

    That was extremely good. (Had to be in New York!)
    ~~wink*

    x,Will. “bottomsUp”

  4. What a beautiful, artful, and tender relationship you’ve described here…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: