herfirstjourney

Need  

She had never tried a Dom before. But she needed to serve. Ever since she first played being a servant in her early years at school, something felt right about her role. Her job was stressful. She managed a huge firm well bossing others around all day - efficiency was her middle name, but when she lay in her bed at night the same desires whispered night after night: 'Serve somebody'. When Bob Dylan sang it into her ear one day as she tuned into some weird London radio channel, and she picked up details of a site for Masters and slaves, she felt the time had come to see if she was mad or her sexual dreams could be fulfilled.  

It was Saturday night when she logged on, and received what could only be described as a ridiculous deluge of men sending her messages. Most felt like bad chat up lines. Some felt like dirty old men. Some were! Pity. Then there were the messages which touched her - speaking directly to her heart. There were several who seemed to see straight to her core. She felt herself moisten and her pulse quickened. But how could she choose between them? She hated to be shallow. Her life had taught her all that glitters is not gold, but she still preferred a guy to look after himself. She could cope with an older gent who could handle her well. She was less easy with the Mr Beans of BDSM who seemed more adept at tieing themselves in knots.   

Her first guy was okay until he revealed that he lived in Canada and not Chipping Sodbury. The second was good until he had to go and speak to someone at the door...and never came back. Had he been murdered she wondered until the next time she discovered she had been blocked...perhaps something to do with her mentioning her dress size was 16 two minutes earlier!   

Finally a local Dom popped up and they chatted really quickly. He appreciated her humour and managed her rough edges without too much difficulty. He didn't even mind that she was married and experimenting. She asked for a pic just to see if he was a toad on legs and was pleasantly surprised to find him attractive.   

His questions were very probing and quite personal, but then he was expecting her to become his slave. It was reasonable to give him the secrets of her soul given that she wanted him to own her body too, if only for a night. Something else which appealed was that he didn't ask her for a picture once. She eventually sent him a couple and was pleased that she didn't get the usual abuse that had followed her throughout her childhood and even in the boardroom. Size matters to everyone, deep down. It's the new racism backed by scientists with their intolerance of things unhealthy.