That morning she awoke with a feeling of delicious anticipation mixed with a nervousness that made it hard for her to breathe. Today was the day. The day He was coming.

They had been planning it for weeks and yet she couldn’t get over the feeling that they were rushing things. Who was that man that was coming to be with her, really? What did she know about him other than what was required to insure her safety, according to her friends and all the online advice she could find.

While in the shower, she tried to calm herself with these thoughts. The safe call was in place, she had given a trusted friend his personal information sealed in an envelope, to be opened only if there was no word from her at a specified time. She was as safe as she could be. And really, she thought to herself while the warm water splashed over her body, they had gotten to know each other so well over the past few weeks.

As she lathered every inch of herself with her favourite aromatic bath lotion, she thought over the wonderful conversations they had had. Thinking of his voice, the things he said to her, made the tingling of the water on her skin feel more intense, pleasurable. Giving in to the urge welling up deep inside her, she aimed the shower head strategically so that the force of the streaming water against her pussy, her lips and finally her clit brought her to a pleasant orgasm. Nothing to write home about, but it calmed her down enough to be able to get on with the rest of her preparations.

His instructions were clear: every last detail of how she was to dress, how she was to make up her face and most importantly how she must prepare her pussy for him. Her pussy must be shaved, cleanly, no stubble. This last step was the most difficult one so far. With some trepidation, but determined, she took a new razor cartridge and put it in her shaver and then ran hot water over it, having heard that it would give her a closer shave while minimizing the dreaded shaving rash she was prone to getting. She most definitely did not want to look like she had some awful skin disease when he took his first intimate look at her.

The thought of his looking at her pussy made her flush with desire again, and she tried to get her mind concentrated on her tasks ahead. Placing a generous amount of shaving gel on her hand, she slathered it onto her pussy, working up a luxurious amount of lather. That in itself felt kind of good, if rather minty cool and tingly. Then she raised one of her legs and rested it against the side of the bathtub, the better to access her pussy. With one hand she held the skin between her inner thigh and her pussy taut, while with the other she began a slow, careful process of shaving. Carefully, slowly, rinsing the hair off the razor at frequent intervals. Then, turning around she raised her other leg and repeated the process with the other side of her pussy. Testing, she ran a hand over the mound and lips, feeling for smoothness or stubble. Not smooth enough yet! God, this was a harder process than she had imagined. Some of those nooks and crannies were so difficult to get at! Using more lather and a fresh razor cartridge, she repeated the process again and again, until all felt perfectly smooth and hairless.

Then taking a hand mirror, she examined her handiwork. Not too bad, though the lack of hair made her feel more naked than she had ever felt in her life! And oh no, there were a couple of nicks spoiling the whole effect. This would not do at all.

She remembered an article she had read on the web, that suggested using rubbing alcohol after shaving to minimize razor burn and prevent the formation of a rash. She took the bottle of alcohol in her hand and looked at it for a long time. Bravery was not one of her strong points. Ok, it had to be done. Splashing a generous amount of alcohol on her hand she took a deep breath and held it, then quickly slapped her hand against her pussy.

Yikes! Dear God that smart!!! She hopped around for a while, making little whooping noises until the stinging pain died down. Her eyes filled with tears but she had done it. She wondered if once would be enough. Before she could give herself a chance to chicken out, she cupped her hand against her pussy and splashed the alcohol from the bottle onto it. Once again, she yelped and did her little pain dance, pressing her eyes shut against the tears, fanning frantically at her pussy to make the alcohol evaporate faster.

Then in a fit of self-pity she slathered some soothing moisturizing lotion all over it and between her thighs. Under normal circumstances she would have found it rather exciting, but as it was she was just grateful for the comfort it gave her.

Now, on to the clothing. She gave a quick glance to the clock. Have to pick up the pace a little here, she thought to herself. The taxi she had arranged to take her to the airport would be here soon enough. That thought, her going to the airport, made her catch her breath again. It was happening, it was really happening! They would be together tonight, right here, at her apartment! What a delicious thought. And then the doubt -- what if he didn’t show up? But no, she was quite confident that he would. His voice on the phone had left her no doubts about that. He would be there, and she had better be ready to receive him!

Still naked, she styled her hair letting the natural curls fall loosely over her shoulders, in a kind of studied carelessness she knew suited her very well. Then she took the package he had sent with the items she was to wear when meeting him, put it on the bed and opened it.

The heat of the summer evening made her hesitate before putting on the garter belt and long, fully fashioned black seamed stockings she had to wear. Worried that the heat would melt her makeup, she sat naked in front of her mirror and carefully made up her face. All looked perfect, or as perfect as she could make it.  She then sprayed perfume all over her body, her hair, the nape of her neck and bravely, her pussy. She was delighted to discover that after the alcohol torture the perfume did nothing but cause a slight tingle. She was satisfied. Now for the clothing.

Going over to the bed, she removed the black lacy garter belt out of the box. Admiringly she ran her hands over the delicate lace. Beautiful! She hooked it up in the back, then sat down and took the package with the stockings out of the box. Opening it, she shook out one of the long stockings, admiring its luxurious texture, its shape. She rolled it up and raising one of her legs, pointed her toes and slid the stocking over them. Taking her time, she smoothed the stocking up her leg, taking care that the seam in the back was perfectly straight. The stocking was so long, it reached up to the very top of her thigh, right near her pussy. With dismay she realized that there was no way she could make the garters on the garter belt any shorter and that the stockings could not be made to sit perfectly taught against her leg. Eventually they would sag. She hoped he would not be too upset with that.

His instructions were unequivocal. No underwear whatsoever. She would have to wear the loose slinky cream coloured top and silky black harem-style trousers with slits in the sides with no bra or panties. She was deliciously embarrassed at the thought. Quickly, she slid the wispy top over her head and smoothed it over her breasts. Looking in the mirror she was dismayed to discover that her nipples poked proudly against the flimsy fabric. She just knew that she would be red-faced having to walk in public with her breasts on display like that. And then she realized that the loose neck of the blouse would also require her to be very careful with her movements. One false move and her breasts would be exposed to the world. Must stand very straight and avoid too much movement, she thought. Now the trousers. She slid them over her stockings easily, tugged and smoothed them over her pert ass and turned in the mirror to get a side view. Aside from the slits on the sides, there was a wide slit in the crotch, so her pussy would be available to him. Oh no! The slit on the side was quite high and as she moved her leg she could see that her stocking tops and garters would be revealed for all to see! And who in their right mind would wear stockings and garters under harem-style trousers on a hot summer night in Athens? She worried that the slit in the crotch would be visible. She turned backwards and forwards, assuring herself that if she was very careful no one would notice. She felt a flutter of nervousness in the pit of her stomach as she imagined the reaction of passers-by. And there were the sandals still to wear. With trepidation she took the lovely high-heeled red sandals out of the box. These sandals that she had so admired while the prospect of actually wearing them was far in the future. They were lovely, delicate shoes, with red heels and delicate red chains forming the straps that she slid her feet into. The straps had small ruby coloured jewels interlinked with the chains, altogether quite lovely, but the contrast they made with the black stockings! She had a moment of panic thinking of how she could walk around like that. She would look like a total slut, a hooker!

She looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, there was no getting away from it. The look was both glamorous and unbelievably slutty at the same time. Well, there was no way out of it. A look at the clock told her that she only had a few moments before the taxi came to pick her up and there were still a couple of things that had to be taken out of the box and placed on her. The most important things. The symbols of her submission to this man that had stirred her to her very soul with his voice, with his words. The man that was coming to her all the way from England, to take possession of what she had so freely and willingly offered him. Herself.

As she wrapped a black leather cuff around her ankle and buckled it into place, she thought of his words: when you meet me at the airport, dressed as I have specified, I will open my arms and if you still desire it, you will come into my embrace. Then you will look at me, into my eyes, and you will tell me what you want. If you still want it. You must say those words, freely and of your own will. You must tell me, Master I am yours. My body, my mind, my spirit are yours to do with as you will. Please accept this gift Master, and take control. If you can say these words to me while I am holding you in my arms at the airport, we will continue as planned. If not, you can turn around and go home and I will take the return flight back home. No recriminations, no hard feelings. The choice is yours.

Her hands were shaking as she buckled the last cuff on to her wrist. She had been so eager to commit herself to him, almost desperate to have him take control. But he had held back, for her own good. He wanted her to be sure that this was indeed what she wanted. Then again he was experienced, had had other such relationships in the past, while this was her first, real-time experience. What conflicting feelings she had!

The sound of the taxi honking its horn on the street below broke her train of thought. She had to go. As a last thought she grabbed a sweater on her way out, yet another strange thing to have with her on such a hot night, but this was part of her cowardice. While riding the elevator down, she wrapped the sweater around her hips so that at least the stocking tops were hidden.

The taxi driver seemed unusually friendly for a Greek cabby. It must be the way I’m dressed, she thought to herself. All the way to the airport they exchanged a light banter, which the cabby kept trying to steer in a more sexual direction. This both embarrassed and amused her. At least it kept her mind off her nervousness. Thoughts flashed through her mind: what if he was really a murderer, come to do God-knows-what with her? But then, he had insisted that she take all the necessary precautions for her safety. The sealed envelope with his personal information had been given to her friend at his insistence. He felt that the safe call was still not quite safe enough. And what if he were God-awful ugly? But then she had seen his pictures, had chatted with him on the web-cam. She knew what he looked like. He had made his tastes and his preferences clear to her. Yes, she knew she would be heavily and tightly chained, made helpless, restrained. Yes, she knew that she would be used according to his will. This excited her beyond anything she could have imagined. They had discussed and agreed on limits, a safe word was in place. All was as it should be. And yet, of course, a niggling little voice worried her. What if he went beyond their limits? What if he did not respect the safe word? For a brief moment she entertained the thought of turning back. She knew that he would understand, they had discussed this too. But no, she was determined. She wanted, needed to live this experience to its fullest.

The cabby’s banter distracted her from her thoughts. He was positively leering and she realized that her blouse had slipped off one shoulder and her left breast was partially visible. With a sense of wickedness, she did not lift it up, but continued chatting with him as though nothing was amiss. They finally pulled up in front of the airport entrance. As she stepped out of the cab, she moved her sweater to allow him a full glimpse of her stockinged legs. His face nearly hit the steering wheel. With a wicked smile she walked away, imagining him staring after her. How wonderful her Master made her feel! They had not even met and she already felt like the most desirable woman on earth.

Of course, walking through the airport was a different matter entirely. She straightened her top and tried (in vain) to minimize the visibility of her nipples. She scrunched her toes to try and show as little as possible of the black stocking toe that was so obvious through her sandals. She walked carefully, attempting to show as little leg as possible, knowing she was walking awkwardly, trying to make sure no one could see the slit in her crotch. Glancing up at the arrivals board, she saw with relief that his flight had landed. He should be coming out any time now. She positioned herself near the arrivals exit and waited. She could feel eyes riveted on her, she felt exposed, on display. It was too much for her. She took her sweater off her hips and put it on, in spite of the heat. To hell with the stocking tops! This way she was still a spectacle, but at least her nipples and pussy weren’t visible to all and sundry. Suddenly the door opened and people started coming out. This was it. If he was on that flight, and she couldn’t help the tiny doubt that sprung up in her head, he would be coming out any second. He couldn’t see her like this. It was part of the agreement, their meeting ritual.

With a sharp intake of breath to give her courage, she removed the sweater and draped it over her arm. She held her head high as she felt heads turn toward her. She kept her eyes on the door, looking for him. Her heart would skip a beat with every tall man that came out. Not one of them was him. Trust my luck, she thought to herself, he will be the last one off the plane, I’m sure.

And then... There he was. She knew him the moment she saw him, as he knew her. His eyes lit up as he looked at her across the barrier separating the passengers from the waiting public. A slow smile formed on his face as he looked her up and down and widened as he took in the details of her stockings, her cuffs, her nipples.

Before she knew it he was out of the passenger zone, pushing his luggage cart toward her. She rushed to meet him and stopped a few feet away. They looked at each other. The reality of his presence hit her full force. She melted into his dark eyes, overwhelmed by his height, his powerful build. Oh yes, she could love such a man!

Slowly, he stretched his arms out in a gesture of embrace. With no hesitation, the blood throbbing in her face, her heart fluttering, she flew into his arms, which he then wrapped tightly around her. He pressed her against him, feeling her naked breasts through her flimsy blouse. The feeling was so intense, she could barely breathe, speechless. One of his hands went up and caressed the back of her head, as she laid it against his broad chest, taking in his wonderful scent, the reality of his being with her. In a soft but firm voice he asked "Well then, is there something you want to say to me?"

She stood on her tiptoes in order to reach his ear, and in a small, breathless voice, she repeated the words she had spoken silently to her self so many times: Master I am yours. My body, my mind, my spirit are yours to do with as you will. Please accept this gift Master, and take control.

He pulled away from her slightly and looked deeply into her eyes. Then he leaned toward her and their lips met in a passionate kiss. A kiss that seemed to go on forever. They kissed deeply, hungrily. She felt that she was indeed giving up her soul to him in this kiss. Then he pulled away again slightly and looking intensely at her asked: "Are you sure?" She nodded yes. Oh, yes!

"Very well then." he said, and putting his hand in his pocket brought out a shackle and with a quick movement joined her wrist cuffs together. She was taken aback and thrilled with this surprise. Wordlessly he put his arm around her waist and pulling his luggage cart with the other guided them both out of the airport toward the taxi stand.

She could not speak. Her emotions were running riot. So this was it! This was the beginning of her life in bondage, in bondage to the man she knew to be her One, her Beloved, her true Master!

A taxi pulled up in front of them and with some dismay she noticed it was the same leering cabby she had had on the way there. She stood off to one side as her Master and the cabby loaded his luggage into the cab and felt a thrill as Master opened the door for her and guided her into the seat. He then shut the door and came around to the other side, sitting next to her, closely. She could barely breathe, her heart was beating so wildly. She was barely aware of the leering driver trying to catch a peek at what might be happening in the back seat.

She felt a slight pressure on her arm and looked over at Master. He had a stern and disappointed frown on his face. Devastated, she tried to understand. And then it came to her! Her knees were together! That was expressly forbidden by her Master, they had both agreed on that. Once she gave herself to him her breasts and her pussy were to be available to him at all times, no exceptions. And her legs were to be invitingly apart whenever they were together. Quickly she opened her legs, knowing her pussy was open to him through the slit in her trousers. He nodded his head. "That’s better", he said with a look that told her that just this once he would let it pass. She smiled at him gratefully.

Driving through the dark, hot streets of Athens, she was acutely aware of his presence next to her, of her knees being apart, of the slit in her trousers and her exposed flesh. She longed for his touch. It seemed like an eternity before he casually rested his hand on her thigh. She looked at him and smiled, shyly. He gave her one of his magnificent, quiet smiles back and relaxed into his seat, his hand resting on her thigh. She felt his hand burn though the trousers on her thigh. Slowly, she felt his hand inching closer. She could feel the blood rushing to her face, could feel her pussy getting very, very wet in anticipation. She held her breath. His fingers casually, slowly found the slit in her trousers and touched her hot, aching pussy. She couldn’t help a low moan that caused the cabby to look sharply back with interest. But she didn’t care. There was nothing anymore, nothing existed beyond him, his touch, his fingers caressing her pussy, sliding in and out of it, the sensation of being near him, feeling him, belonging to him.

As they drove through the dark city streets, she surrendered herself completely to an unimaginable feeling of happiness and contentment. She was his.