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They had been sexually intimate in ways most couples had never imagined. But they had never touched.

They had been in a deeply committed relationship for months, learning to trust and please and care for each other.

And now, at last, they were going to meet.

It was something neither of them had ever expected. They had met online and quickly learned that they lived thousands of miles and an ocean apart, she in Scotland, he in the American Midwest. Neither of them was ever likely to travel anywhere near where the other lived.

She had answered a personal ad he had placed on a certain website she frequented and after a few email exchanges and online chat she had agreed to become his slave and call him Master.

She came to consider herself his property; she slept with “His” dog collar around her neck and often wore it during the day when her clothing would allow it to remain unseen.

She performed the erotic tasks he gave her—masturbating in public places; wearing a vibrator inside her pussy for the entire duration of her hour-long bus ride home from work; kneeling in front of the open door to her flat wearing nothing but her collar and leash and a sign declaring her “…Master’s good little doggie”—and countless others which made her head swim with the naughtiness and daring of them.

She loved following his instructions and loved writing her reports to him afterwards describing in detail how well she had performed his task and how she had felt while performing it.

She loved all the little rituals he had assigned to remind her on a daily basis that she belonged to him: every morning sending him a detailed list of what she was going to wear; writing “This belongs to…” followed by his name, on a different part of her body each day; kneeling, when she got home from work, for five minutes with her hands behind her head, facing the door of her flat as if expecting him to come through it at any moment and use her for his pleasure. She loved touching herself at his command and not being allowed to have an orgasm without first begging his permission.

She loved everything about their erotic relationship. But she also loved just chatting with him online, talking about whatever was going on in their lives, drifting sideways into long, nonsensical flights of conversational fancy, focusing in on what was working and what wasn’t in the structure of their Master/slave relationship (he was not one of those Masters who simply gave orders and expected to be obeyed; he always wanted to know how to make the experience better for her) and just learning more about each other.

Before long they had become friends. She found it surprisingly comfortable, this strange, long-distance relationship with a man who would one moment be commiserating with her about the fact that her flatmate rarely cleaned up, and the next ordering her to strip, put the handle of her feather-duster up her ass and dust the furniture with it, hands behind her head as always, while imagining that he and his friends were sitting there watching and fondling her as she did so.



The weeks had turned into months. They had had disagreements and disputes like any couple, and sometimes computer-related failures would make it impossible to communicate for a while, but overall theirs had been a stable relationship, based as much on the affectionate regard they had for each other as on their shared erotic adventures.

And now they were going to meet. His company had unexpectedly sent him to London for a few days and right now, at this very instant, his flight was about to land at the Edinburgh airport—a trip he was making especially to see her.

She bit her lip nervously. His flight had been delayed and she had been waiting a long time. It was now very late and the airport was nearly deserted.

She had no idea what to expect; they knew each other so well and yet were complete strangers. They had exchanged pictures of course, but it was quite another thing to actually be in each other’s presence—to really see a face, hear a voice, smell, touch…

Touch. She shivered. In just a moment he would be walking towards her, his eyes seeking her. What if even after all they had shared they found each other unattractive? Or worse, if only one of them did?

She knew he was self-conscious about being so much older than she was, and she had told him that it made no difference to her. She had told herself the same thing more than once in the last few hours, hoping it would be true.

She shivered again, even though she was bundled up in her winter coat and scarf. It was in fact quite warm in the airport and she would have loved to remove her coat and carry it over her arm, especially after waiting all this time. But she couldn’t, not without revealing that she was wearing her dog collar--with the leash hidden beneath the back of her dress and lightly wrapped around her waist.

He hadn’t told her to do this. He had been very careful to be sure she understood that he had no expectations. That she had the right to take one look and walk away if that’s what she felt she needed to do. As if she could possibly be that cruel, she had thought to herself. No matter what, even if there were no attraction, she would smile and hug him and make him feel welcome. She would sit with him and talk, and maybe they’d have something to eat together before they went their separate ways.

Oh god, she couldn’t stand to think of that possibility! What if meeting each other spoiled everything? Then it would be too late, and there would be no way to undo it. They would lose everything they had built up together. She should leave now and send an apologetic note--something about a family emergency--later. She should…

There he was.

He saw her at the same moment and quickly swerved out of the pedestrian traffic towards her. He looked very much like his picture, she thought--a little more tired, of course, from the trip, with its endless delay, and the lateness of the hour. She could see the fatigue in his walk, and the effort it cost him to stand upright and smile at her—but there was no mistaking him. His smile was genuine, his pleasure in seeing her still waiting for him obvious, but there was also a hesitancy, a watchfulness, and she knew he was waiting to see if she would turn away.

Instead she ran to him and threw her arms around him and gave him a long, loving hug, which he returned, dropping his small travel case to the floor. After a while she drew back and they simply gazed at each other, breathing each other in. She found his gaze intense, as she’d expected, but full of warmth. She was so relieved; whatever happened or didn’t happen next, she was sure they would still be friends afterward.

She started to speak, to greet him, but stopped, mystified, when he held up his hand. He took her arm and, after looking around for a moment, picked up his case and gently steered her into one of the eating establishments that lined the concourse. There was no service at this hour of course but the seating area was still open; he led her to a table more or less out of sight of the concourse, and they sat opposite each other.

He reached across the table and took her hands in his. His eyes searched hers more deeply now, just as she searched his, and she realized there was an important, intimate conversation being carried on without a word being spoken. That they were each looking for the person they had thus far known only as words on a computer screen.

The light was dim but it seemed to her that his eyes shone with a light all their own and she felt almost as if she could see, not her reflection, but herself as he saw her. She wondered if he was experiencing the same thing.

She had never done this before--simply sat and gazed into someone’s eyes for such a long time. She found it disturbing, but in a good way. It was a sensual, emotional…possibly even spiritual experience, she thought--to be so utterly aware of another person and know that he was just as conscious of you. It was almost as if the lines of separation between them were blurring…blending. She noticed that she was barely breathing.

She had no idea how long they sat there like that--it felt like a moment out of time. But finally, without moving or taking their eyes from each other--without a single noticeable change--she knew that they had finished their conversation. The look in his eyes was now a simple question.

She gently withdrew her hands from his and stood up. Still holding his gaze she unfastened and removed her coat, and then her scarf, and draped them over her chair. She watched his gaze travel from her face down to the collar around her neck, linger for a moment and then move back up to her eyes as she walked around the table and stood before him.

She had dressed simply, not wanting to appear too seductive or sluttish in case things didn’t work out. But the gray dress she had chosen suited her figure well, she thought, and it was both sleeveless and, more importantly, collarless, the better to show off her neck and the dog collar she wore for him. This time of year she would normally have at least worn a blouse or sweater of some kind underneath it—but right now she was extremely glad she hadn’t.

Slowly, she lifted her arms and locked her hands behind her head as he had so often ordered her to do online. Mmmm…the way he was looking at her now, the heat and desire in his gaze, made her feel wonderfully sexy. It had been worth the trip just for that.

Not that it was over yet; not by any means. She held the pose for a while longer, basking in the thrill of finally standing before him as she had so often dreamed. Then she reached down the back of her dress, grasped the leash and shook it loose from around her waist. She kept her gaze on him as she pulled the end of the leash free and turned her collar around.

And even though it felt like a very solemn moment she was unable to keep from grinning as she held the leather loop in her hand…and offered it to him.

He reached up slowly to take the loop in both hands. When he looked back up at her his smile added touches of wonder and gratitude to the all-encompassing warmth of his gaze and for the first time in her life she felt as if she, herself, was a gift. He tugged gently on the leash, pulling her down hand over hand until their faces were almost touching, then he turned his head slightly and kissed her. Simply kissed her, as a man kisses a woman, with nothing of Master or slave in it even though he was holding her by the leash.

She dared to place her hands upon his shoulders…because her legs were shaking. She did not dare to use her tongue or even open her mouth, only tried to communicate by the slightest parting of her lips that her mouth was his to enjoy. But he simply kissed her, raising one hand to cup the back of her head, for a long, wonderful moment.

When he released her she waited a moment to see if he wanted more, then slowly returned to her standing position, placing her hands behind her head again. She waited. After a moment he released his hold on her leash long enough to shrug out of his coat and let it fall over the back of his chair, then seized the leash again and gently urged her closer with it until she stood between his parted legs. He was wearing a black cotton sweater over tan corduroy jeans and even in the dim light she could see the bulge of his erection, which aroused her powerfully, knowing that she was the cause of it.

Again he let go of the leash. Then, slowly, he began to take possession of her.

He began by resting his hands on the backs of her knees and raising them in a long caress up the backs of her thighs to disappear under her dress, holding her in his gaze the entire time. He cupped and stroked her behind through her panties, and she felt her mouth fall open in response.

But they were in a public place and instinctively she tore her gaze away from his, looking over her shoulder to see whether they were visible from the concourse. They were not—his arrival gate had been near the end of the concourse, which now seemed deserted--but in that same instant she felt his hands stop their sensuous motion and withdraw from under her dress. She instantly turned back to him. He was looking up at her; he was shaking his head slightly and his expression was displeased.

He stood up and walked behind her. He seized her wrists and roughly pulled her arms down to her sides before releasing his hold. And for one horrible moment she was sure he was simply going to walk away from her and never return.

Instead he unfastened and unzipped the back of her dress, then before she knew what was happening jerked it from her shoulders and down past her waist, letting it fall to the floor…leaving her standing in just her bra and panties.

She gasped out loud and immediately bent to pull her dress back up.

…Then she stopped.

She felt his gaze on her from behind; heard the unspoken question.

She hesitated a moment longer. Then, slowly, trembling in every limb, she straightened up. After another moment she raised her arms, placed her hands behind her head again…and waited.

He made her wait a long time. So long, in fact, that she once again began to fear that he had walked away, leaving her like that as a punishment. But she didn’t dare turn to look.

She waited, her breath ragged and her throat dry.

She felt him approaching long before she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He took his time, walking slowly around to stand before her. He took her face in his hands and once again stared searchingly into her eyes. She gave him the same answer as before, though this time it required a lot more courage. Because now it was real. Now she was standing in an airport restaurant in her bra and panties and a collar and leash, where people could be passing by just yards away. She was surrendering her will and her dignity to a man whom she had just met, but whom she thought—she hoped, desperately--she knew well enough to trust with them.

So when he scooped her breasts out of her bra and began to pinch her nipples, hard at first and then much harder, she forced herself to keep her eyes on his and remain in place. She bit her lip and whimpered though, from pain and arousal in equal measure.

Eventually he released her and she was unable to restrain a gasp of relief. He smiled slightly at that, and she was glad she had pleased him, however unintentionally. But he wasn’t through testing her commitment, apparently, because he took hold of her leash once more and used it to pull her gently down, first to her knees and then onto all fours.

Then he took her for a walk.

At first it was like obedience training: a few steps forward, stop; a few more, stop; a tug upward on her leash to get her to sit up; forward to get her down and moving again. It felt both surreal and humiliating, crawling around with her breasts hanging out of her bra, and the further he led her away from the spot where her dress had fallen the more anxious and excited she became. She wondered if he had any idea how completely and mindlessly aroused she was.

He was walking her in circles now, with her crumpled dress at the center. Each time around the circle widened a little, and she thought she understood the point he was making by taking her farther and farther away from her only protection. So she kept on crawling, without pause or hesitation…even as the circles widened to the point where she was sometimes completely exposed to the sight of anyone who might be passing by on the concourse.

At first it was only for a moment--the sudden flash of neon light on her face startling her even as it slid along her crawling body and disappeared as she returned to the dimness of the restaurant. She was unable to prevent a gasp from escaping her lips but she kept her eyes resolutely forward and continued to crawl, unable to tell whether she’d been seen or not.

The next pass took her even farther into the light and kept her exposed for several seconds. She knew it was coming, of course, and did her best to prepare herself mentally; if this was what he required of her then she was going to do it, no matter what. So when she entered the light she raised her face to it, ready to meet the gaze of anyone who looked at her and to accept that person’s reaction, no matter what.

There was no one. She was almost disappointed.

He must have sensed what she was feeling because even as the circles grew wider their pace became slower, then slower still. She was exposed for ten seconds…then thirty…then almost a full minute. Once she saw the back of a man in a pilot’s uniform passing by just as she was entering the exposed area. Another time a heavy-set man pushing a wheeled trash barrel came into view at the end of the concourse just as she was crawling out of sight but must have passed by as she was making her slow orbit within the restaurant, as he wasn’t there when she came around again.

So far no one had seen her…and after a while she ceased to care, one way or the other.

She was by then in a trance of arousal, nipples stiff as they swayed beneath her, the crotch of her panties so wet that it was chafing the insides of her thighs. She was so caught up in the private world of her sensations that she nearly forgot that she was on the end of a leash. Which was a mistake, as she soon found out.

The first indication that she should have been paying attention to her Master was when a sudden pressure on her collar jerked her to a halt. He had simply stopped walking and she had heedlessly continued crawling until she ran out of leash and nearly bruised her neck. The second clue was when he used the leash to haul her, choking and gasping, into an upright position from behind, regardless of the fact that they were at a point where they were in full view of the concourse. Instinctively she threw one arm over her breasts and her other hand over her loins to cover herself…

…Then once again, by sheer force of will, she raised her hands--as slowly as if they were weighted with bricks—and locked them behind her head. She spread her legs as far apart as she could…and waited, as completely still as her pounding heart would allow. She stared out at the concourse, terrified but at the same time hoping that someone would come by. That someone would walk into view, see her—see her kneeling there in a public airport in her bra and panties, tits hanging out, dog collar around her neck and leashed to the man standing behind her. She wanted that someone to stop dead in their tracks and stare at her, mouth open, then quickly look away and hurry on, pretending not to have seen.

She craved that humiliation right now, craved it more than anything, to prove to her Master the level of her commitment—and to heighten even more the incredible erotic intensity of this experience. And when she felt her panties being yanked down around her thighs from behind, felt the sudden shock of cool air on her wet pussy, it was all she could do to fight off the orgasm she felt surging up between her legs.

But she did fight it, knowing that it was what he would want. She bit her lip until the tears came, literally grunting with the effort as she clamped down on the wave of pleasure that was causing her entire body to shake. At long last she succeeded, although the struggle had caused her to bend halfway to the floor. When the tremors subsided she straightened herself and took her position again, arching her back proudly. She knew he would be pleased with her.

It was hard to tell for sure at first, because when he came around and stood in front of her the light from the concourse was at his back, making it nearly impossible to see his face. But the question became irrelevant when he laced his fingers behind her neck, just below where her own hands were locked, and gently pulled her face into the front of his pants.

He rubbed her back and forth, the thin-wale corduroy rough against her skin. She let her neck-muscles relax and groaned out loud. Unable to help herself she began to kiss and even lick the enormous bulge behind his zipper whenever her position allowed, her mouth hanging open. She had never, even in her most vivid fantasies, experienced this level of submission and excitement. And somehow the fact that they had yet to speak even a single word to each other made her feel even more like his property; a toy to be used for his pleasure. She pressed her breasts against his thighs, the fabric of his pants dragging across her nipples as he pulled her face back and forth, up and down.

She heard herself cry out before she had any idea that she was going to do so. The intensity of her arousal had suddenly spiked the moment her nipples had come in contact with him, and she had known that she was going to come within seconds. The cry had been one of desperation, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it this time. The sound echoed up and down the concourse, startling them both.

But he reacted instantaneously--stepping back and forcefully tilting her face up to his. By now her eyes had adjusted to his shadow somewhat and she could see his eyes…feel the power of his will as he held her in his gaze. It was as if he were inside her mind, somehow able to control her body as she could not, because the fire raging inside her began miraculously to settle and then to recede until it was only a raw, yearning sensation, the fires banked once more within her loins—for the moment. She stared up at him, eyes wide, breathing shakily through dry, trembling lips.

He rewarded her with a slight smile and solemn nod of the head. He leaned down and kissed her dry lips, lightly. Then he straightened and tugged lightly on the leash to bring her down onto all fours again before setting off…

…Down the concourse.

She allowed herself not even a second’s hesitation, shutting her mind down to everything except his will, crawling after him before the slack in the leash had even a chance to tighten.

He neither hurried nor looked back, strolling along at a casual pace. The concourse was deserted. Unbidden, pictures began flooding into her mind: this same concourse, at noon, thronged with people—men, women and children—all stopping to stare at the man in the black sweater as he walked past, leading a collared, leashed and nearly naked woman crawling after him with her panties halfway down her thighs.

Her pussy gave a sudden throb; she was so overcome by her imaginings that she faltered for a moment and nearly fell over in a swoon. It took all her determination to keep her attention on the backs of his legs as she hurried to catch up before the leash tightened.

As it turned out he didn’t take her much farther. His steps slowed and then he swerved to the left across the corridor. Focused only on following him, she had no idea where he was headed until the rug beneath her hands, knees and feet suddenly gave way to little tiles, cold and rough beneath her. As they rounded a corner she looked up and saw a row of stalls to her right, a row of urinals to her left—and realized that he had brought her into a men’s restroom.

He walked up to the nearest urinal, looped and tied the end of her leash loosely around the pipe running into the wall. Then he unzipped his pants and took out his cock. It was hugely erect and for a moment she anticipated having to take it all into her mouth right there; having him yank her upright by her hair and simply shoving it down her throat, fucking her without mercy until he was satisfied. When he stepped back from the urinal she was so convinced of what was about to happen that she nearly raised herself to her knees and opened her mouth, unbidden, stopping herself only when he failed to turn towards her.

She had never seen a man attempt to urinate with an erection before, and she suddenly understood why he had stepped back. The stream of his urine arced upward through the air for the better part of a yard before falling into the urinal, making the porcelain ring slightly. He sighed with relief and moved closer to the urinal as the pressure lessened and the stream began to slow. Nevertheless in spite of his precaution the last drops splashed the edge of the urinal and dripped onto the floor, and a few more dribbled down his cock.

He grabbed a few paper towels from a nearby wall dispenser and dropped them to the floor in front of her. She looked at them…then up at him…then down again--and moaned out loud.

She wiped the floor first—oh god, kneeling at his feet, cleaning his piss from the floor like a slavegirl—and then the urinal. This went beyond every submission/humiliation fantasy she’d ever had and it was making her almost dizzyingly horny. She threw the used paper towels into the wastebasket, ***********ed a fresh one and turned to face him, raising herself to her knees in preparation for cleaning off his cock.

She stared at it longingly for a moment. It was every bit as large as she had so often imagined it and now it was right there in front of her face. She wanted so badly to… No. She was going to complete her task and that was all. She raised her hand clutching the paper towel, tentatively reached out towards his cock…and stopped. She had suddenly become aware of the coarse brown paper in her hand; it felt rough and scratchy--suitable for scrubbing floors and urinals but not…

On impulse she dropped the paper to the floor. She raised her eyes to his and held his gaze as she bent and awkwardly removed her panties. She held them up in front of her with both hands as if offering him the little scrap of lacy pink fabric she’d chosen so carefully to wear for him only a few hours—and another lifetime—ago. After a moment she saw consent in his eyes, along with a hint of amusement, which pleased her greatly.

She put the panties over her hand and began to pat him dry.

She tried very hard to simply complete her task and then return to her position, really she did. And she’d succeeded in patting him very nearly dry. Was it her fault if there were still a few droplets clinging to the hairs on the front of his balls? She had to get them off as well, didn’t she?

True, it hadn’t been absolutely necessary to cup his balls in her panty-covered hand and stroke them with the heel of her palm in order to clean them off. And yes, admittedly, curling the fingers of her free hand around his shaft while she did so wasn’t entirely for the sake of keeping her balance. And there was really no excuse for it when, a moment later, her mouth descended on the head of his cock and she began tonguing it frantically.

So she was not entirely surprised when he seized her by the hair and yanked her to her feet--the panties falling to the floor—or even when he shoved her back against the wall between two urinals and used the leash to tie her there with her arms spread wide.

She was, however, a little disturbed when he tucked his cock back into his pants and left.

She wondered if this was to be the punishment for her impulsive behavior—to be left there until the custodian or maybe even an early flier the next morning discovered her. She imagined an endless line of men coming through—fondling her, using her, leaving her tied there all day. She imagined him leaning against the row of stalls, watching…and once more she let out a groan of arousal.

A few moments later he returned. He was carrying his overnight case in one hand and had her dress draped over his other arm. He hung her dress over one of the stall doors then set his case down at her feet and crouched to open it. He withdrew a long, white box with an elaborate red bow and stood up again. He offered it to her with a mocking smile, knowing that she was unable to take it from him.

She was puzzled—if he had brought her flowers it was very thoughtful of course, but why was he giving them to her now? When, however, he removed the box lid with a slight flourish she saw that she had misjudged him considerably. For there, lying on a pad of white cotton, was a large Hitachi vibrating wand.

He removed the wand and tossed the box aside. With his free hand he picked her panties up from the floor and stuffed them into her mouth.

Then for the next twenty minutes he tortured her with the wand. He massaged her stomach, and then her breasts and then her nipples with it. He nudged her legs apart and ran it up and down her thighs, always with excruciating slowness, always moving a little further inward…and upward…but never once touching her where she most desperately wanted it. She writhed and squealed and moaned and babbled through her panties, to no avail. He kept her right on the very edge of orgasm—not to mention a complete breakdown—for longer than she would have ever dreamed possible.

Then, just when she had nearly resigned herself to living forever in this twilight hell where release was always just a few seconds away, he suddenly lifted the wand and pressed it firmly against her clitoris.

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck between her legs. The shock ran up her spine and threatened to tear the top of her head off. And this was before he tossed the wand aside, took out his cock and, seizing her by the hips, began to fuck her--hard.

She screamed through the panties in her mouth as she came. A few minutes later she screamed again, for the same reason. She did not scream the third time, even as she felt him spurting inside her as he continued to thrust—but that was only because she was very nearly unconscious by then.

Later she was dimly aware of a sharp, momentary pain in her shoulders as her arms were released...a sense of falling forward…being caught in his arms and gently lowered…and then sudden cold against the entire back of her body. Her eyes flickered, and she awoke to find herself lying on the bathroom floor. The panties were gone from her mouth; her head and shoulders were cradled in his lap and he was gently brushing her sweat-soaked hair away from her face.

She smiled up at him, a little weakly, and he slowly bent down to kiss her. “Hello,” he said softly, then grinned as he added, “Nice to meet you.” He kissed her again and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m a little tired—can we go home now?”

He helped her to stand and then to dress, smiling his approval when she kept her collar and leash on. Together they went to fetch their coats and then walked out of the airport to her car. They walked slowly, with their arms around each other’s waists, as her legs were still feeling rubbery. They walked in a silence that was now completely comfortable for both of them. She leaned her head on his shoulder, glancing up at him once in a while to remind herself that he was really there.

She had planned to take him to her flat. But it was more than an hour’s drive and they were both exhausted so they checked into a nearby hotel instead. But as it turned out they didn’t get much sleep anyway.

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