The morning after Kristen’s first experience, she felt so connected with me. We had patiently discussed over several weeks, what her first experience with me would be like. I had listened intently to everything she had said, more importantly, to everything she had not. I had learned about her. I had studied her. I had analysed her. I knew what made her tick. I knew what she craved. I knew her.
I wanted Kristen to know me as well. She needed to know exactly what I expect. Exactly what I deliver. Exactly how this would be. I was in no rush. This period of discovery would only make her submission to me more pure, more beautiful, more organic.
I had guided her, I had inspired her. Those words to me over dinner that evening, when she looked me dead centre in the eye and said, “I submit to you, Sir!”. Those words meant everything. I knew she was ready. The time had come.
That first experience, that meeting of shared desires, shared lust, shared intimacy. That was something to behold. Truly wonderful.
The following morning, as she lifted my shirt to her delicate face, and inhaled my aroma deeply; she remembered all that had gone before that moment. Breathing in deeply, she felt so at one with herself. This was what she had desired for so long. This was now her safe place. This was now her home. She was now mine.
Mischief's Muse 