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It’s been said that the people who change your life the most come at a time when you are least expecting it. He was one of those people. I still remember that night. It was a networking event, and I had made sure to wear my magic weapon - seamed stocking with stilettos. Although it appeared that I held his interest from the conversation we were having from the neck up, there was a frisson of energy and excitement passing between us that made me think my life, moving forward, would no longer be the same.

At first glance, he wasn’t the most attractive man I had ever come across, but he had these blue eyes so cool that they made me want to dive right in. The rest of him was nondescript - tall, average build, but he was older and distinguished, which I liked. He wasn't charismatic per se, but what he did have was power, the kind of personality trait that kept business deals from going south and could silence grown men at board meetings. Thinking about him now, he still makes me weak in the knees when he enters a room.

In the weeks and months following our initial meeting, my BBM became command central, and it seemed I couldn't get enough of him. He was a thirst I couldn't seem to quench. His openness with me was refreshing and, as we got to know each other, I found myself confiding in him - my sexual secrets, some things I had never shared with anyone and probably never would again. He loved hearing about my exhibitionist ways, as I regaled him with stories from my college days - from the ménage a trois to my bondage and wax rituals with horny athletes who just couldn't get enough of being under the sexual control of a woman. He too shared his brazen sexual past with me, confessing to preferring a bound woman wearing nothing but a corset and stilettos. Somehow, hearing this only intrigued me more...

I knew getting involved would mean defying all kinds of social moirés, but I had fought my growing attraction for him long enough. He had always been open and honest about his life, and I knew that between his C level position and personal commitments, he was Mr. Unavailable. The sexual fantasies I had been having lately about him were becoming more vivid than ever - tantric fantasies of hot, twisted sex and foreplay that would leave my pussy slick. I knew with certainty to jump feet first despite all the obstacles...

He was the first - the first man I actually WANTED to take control of me. The first man I was truly open with; I had spent the last few years trying to remove myself from my exhibitionist, sexual past, because many of my relationships hadn't worked out. It wasn't until I met him that I wanted to go back to the sex clubs I had studiously avoided. I was ready to be teased, played with and gently coaxed out of my comfort zone. He would be the first man I would worship in bed.

Looking back, I realized I jumped in with more than just my feet; I let my heart go, too. It wasn't always a comfortable feeling, and I often struggled because of the nature of the relationship, which didn't always make for easy times between us. However, as the weeks turned to months, I recognized that being someone's lover is not like being a fuck-buddy. It is not just about sucking the cock, fucking, cumming and then leaving. It is about sharing and being comfortable with that intimate, open connection that creates moments so electric that they can't possibly be recreated, only somehow it does...

XO,
Your Mistress

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