3 comments/ 8520 views/ 1 favorites Watched for Years Ch. 01 By: thehungriest I watched her for years. We met at a professional conference. I remember how stunning she was. The perfect almond shape of her eyes, the half-moon of her hips, the brilliance of her face when she smiled. At first I couldn't place what was so special about her- I meet many beautiful women in my profession but rarely feel an attraction as strongly as what I felt toward her. We traveled in the same circles so I saw her often (though not as often as I wished) and gradually got to know her. I learned that she was married and resigned myself to never getting to know her as more than a friend, albeit a desirable, seductive friend. But my fascination persisted. As the years passed we became more and more comfortable with each other. I got to know about her personal life- her successful husband, her talented daughter, even her love of animals. She always was friendly and open, quick to engage with eye contact, a flash of her secret smile, a fleeting grab of my forearm. I made it a point to greet her whenever we attended the same functions or meetings. I would secretly delight in watching her move. She kept herself so fit and trim that she looked half her age. She knew how to wear clothes. Not just how to coordinate her outfits- she seemed to take particular care in how her clothing would fall over her body to accentuate her essential femininity. I found her entering my thoughts unbidden and looked forward to those times every couple of months when I knew I would spend a few hours in her presence. I would sometimes question myself why I found her more appealing than almost any other woman I knew, but just dismissed it as a somewhat random enchantment. Until one day when I looked at her as she stood before me and suddenly realized from a quick glance at her stance- She wanted to be dominated. She wanted a man to command her. Command her how to please him. Reward her for her obedience, punish her for her rebellion. Own her body as his property to use as he wished. Restrain her at his whim. Release her from her responsibilities. She yearned to submit to another's will. It came to me in a flash as we talked in a crowded hallway during a break at a conference. She was looking up at me almost pleadingly as we made small talk about our families (we had known each other so long that I had gotten divorced and re-married since our first meeting), holding her arms down by her sides with her elbows behind the plane of her back. I could see in her posture the perfect picture of a rope-bound woman. Suddenly so many things clicked in to place that I could feel my heart skip. Time seemed to dilate around me as I realized that I could make her mine. That she wanted me to make her mine. That she couldn't summon the courage to speak it, but that she desperately longed for me to take control of her. Over the next two days of the conference I began to flirt with her. Little things at first, but she rapidly upped the ante. In no time we were sending incredibly suggestive texts back and forth. At one point, she approached me and began to apologize. She was concerned that her behavior would lessen my opinion of her. I told her to think nothing of it, that flirting was just harmless fun, that we had known each other so long it was almost like just guys' locker room talk. Even so, I could tell from the intensity of her gaze when we spoke or caught each other's eyes across the room that she was excited and aroused. As the second day of the conference wound down she asked me about grabbing a quick bite at a nearby restaurant. I happily agreed, hoping to just continue our flirting but willing to see where the conversation might take us. In no time we were seated in an intimate, secluded corner with a plate of bruschetta spread before us. She slowly, haltingly began telling me about a side of herself that I'd had a few glimpses and suspicions of but had not really imagined to be possible in someone who always carried herself so demurely, so properly, so (apparently) naively. I was awestruck as she related more and more of her sexual past with me. Her encounters with other women. Her long-term affair with a married man fifteen years her senior. Her exhibitionist experiments. And most stunningly, her desire to be dominated- to be conquered, to be marked, to be used. And how this revelation in her past relationships had always scared away the men she was with, how she had hidden this part of her nature, how she had kept it from her husband of twenty years, and how she could not keep her need to submit unexpressed any longer. She told me this with such total trust that I felt awed and intimidated. Because I knew how much courage it had taken her to speak the words aloud. And because I knew I could provide what she wanted- what she needed. I also understood why my attraction to her had endured and always remained so vivid and fresh. Our minds had been meeting on this level for years, and thinking back over our history together all of the clues suddenly slipped in to place. How she always took the time to acknowledge me, how she would get me something to drink in a meeting, how she would always seek my approval after a presentation. Within days we had arranged a brief hour together. I hungered for her body so much that I couldn't adequately dominate her in our first session. I had to get to know her first anyway, but the way her whole being reacted to the touch of my hand around her throat, how she quivered when I made her kneel naked before me, how she couldn't keep her hands off of me in her desire to please, all these gave me the keys to furthering our new-found relationship. She took me in her mouth; I took her from behind; I threw her on the floor and bound her hands behind her back. I overpowered her as she struggled until she willingly yielded to me, indeed begged for my hard cock. I played with her pussy until she cried out for me to stop, then continued until she experienced her first female ejaculation. I marked her exquisite tits and belly with my cum. I told her what a good girl she was, that she would indeed prove capable of pleasing me. The look of devotion in her eyes as she gazed back at me was breathtaking. Our essences were meeting on a level that we had denied ourselves for too long... To be continued... Watched for Years Ch. 02 After our initial encounter I knew waiting for our next time together would be tough. I had admired this woman for years and now that I had had a taste of her, I couldn't get enough. I knew that she needed to ease in to things, so I resolved to take it slow. And despite the fact that she repeatedly told me that she couldn't get enough, I was concerned about going too far, too fast. The morning after our first hour together she texted me when she was alone. I let her know how pleased I was with her- her body, her smell, her taste. I gave her her first task- she was not to look at anyone outside of her household in the eye for the day if she could safely avoid it and would report back to me in the evening how many people she had broken this rule with. I also told her what to wear. I knew that my cock was larger than she had expected and that her delightful pussy was swollen from our session the day before, so I commanded her to wear crotchless panties under tight jeans. I wanted her to be reminded of her new owner every time she took a step or shifted in her seat. She begged me to allow her to wear shorts, as it was the nicest day in months. I knew there was a chance I would see her in the afternoon and could think of nothing better than catching a glimpse of her sculpted legs, so I acquiesced. I also knew that shorts would allow her easier access to her clit when she was overwhelmed by the need to touch herself, although she knew she was forbidden to orgasm without my permission. After a few more texts and a brief chat, I told her to check in with me before the end of the day to report. I gave her my schedule and let her know how pleased I would be to see her if she could figure out how to manipulate her day to grab a few minutes with me. I then headed out to go on with my day. Several hours later, shortly before breaking for a late lunch, I got a text from her that she was nearby. I stepped out and saw her waiting in a vine-covered alley behind my workplace. Her downcast eyes belied the flush in her cheeks. I knew she was excited at the risk she had taken in stopping by. I knew that she was reminded of my presence with every step she took in those panties. I immediately recognized her shorts as something she had worn at an out-of-town conference we had both attended two years before, and realized that my mentioning that I remembered that would let her know that I had indeed been watching her for all those years. When I did, she looked at me in silent astonishment for a few moments, then spoke: "You remember that? I thought that no one was noticing me for all that time..." I assured her that I had noticed her- that without effort, I could name what she had been wearing almost any time we had been together, including the pink sweater and dark jeans she wore when we first met. I had never had to make any special effort to recall her clothing, as every time I saw her I felt an electric thrill at her presence and all of my memories were heightened. We quickly ducked in to her car and drove over to a side street to talk. I knew we needed to learn each other's boundaries and set some rules. We started with names. I told her that in public we would stick with our regular, vanilla names. In private, I would call her whatever I felt she deserved at the time- anything from pet to slut to fucktoy. Whenever she had to speak to me about herself, she would refer to herself in the third person as "this girl." I've never liked titles like "Master" or "Lord," but I felt it proper that she would address me as "sir" when speaking to me. I changed her contact info in my phone to be only her first initial- from now on, she would only be the elemental being "j," not the fully-formed woman with all of the daily struggles and issues that came with her name. I laid out the rules for our public interactions. She would not be allowed to make eye contact with me until I had acknowledged her. She would serve me in any creative way she could so as to keep the true nature of our relationship hidden from those around us. This might mean getting me a drink or helping me carry something, but always on the safe side. I would expect her to learn my likes and dislikes for food, music, and any other sensual experience that could be shared in public. I briefly gave her the rules for our private time, but told her that she would learn more as we were able to get more time together. She would kneel on the floor before me unless I gave her permission to sit or stand. She would always make her body available to me, but if she felt feisty I would expect her to resist me and make me overpower her. I asked her what I needed to know about her. She looked at me hesitantly for a few moments, then spoke: "If there is anything you want me to buy- toys, clothing, whatever- tell me what and I will get it. For you." She blushed and averted her gaze. I realized that the thrill of publicly purchasing anything erotic was something she could only enjoy under orders. "Good," I said. "What else?" "I can't stand to be massaged. I hate the kind of soft touching that comes with a manicure or pedicure. I need to be held. I need to be grabbed. I need to feel you on me." She glanced away, then looked back at me steadily. I put my hand on her throat. And held it. Hard. "Like this?" She whimpered. Looked at me. Tried to nod her head. "Yes," she whispered, as a tear trickled down her cheek. She looked blissful. I reached for her waist with my other hand. I grasped her hip. She tried to swivel toward me in her seat, but I pushed her back. I held her hip so hard that another ten or fifteen seconds of pressure could cause a contact bruise. I put my mouth up to her ear and whispered, "What else?" "I am a clumsy person. I bruise easily. If you leave a mark on me, no one will be suspicious." I breathed deeply, taking in her scent. I was rock hard and seconds away from taking her right there, in her car. I paused to gather myself. "Good," I said. I released her and leaned back. "I won't mark you yet. I haven't decided what's best- but it will be from my hands, not from a whip or cane. I need to feel you under my touch. When the time is right I will mark you as my property- after you've earned it." She looked back at me. She was flushed and breathing hard. She was obviously having trouble focusing. I leaned in toward her. "Are you wet?" She lowered her eyes and nodded her head. "Tell me what you want." She looked at me. I could see the conflict play on her face. She shook her head. "Tell me," I commanded. "Don't make me force you to tell me." She gulped in a deep breath of air. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. She looked away, then whispered "I want you to tie me up. I need you to bind me. I..." "That's enough," I said. "Good girl. A step at a time." I reached over with both hands and grabbed her face, turned it toward me. I looked directly into her eyes. "Not as scary as you thought, right?" She was scarcely able to speak. She just nodded her head once, in assent. "Feels good, knowing someone else knows your secret?" Again, the single nod. "Relax. You know mine. We're even." I let her go. "But never forget who owns you." I leaned over her, forcing her back in to her seat, and reached between her legs with my right hand. Her heat was scorching. I could feel her through her shorts. I remembered that I had ordered her to wear crotchless panties and reached through the leg of her shorts to lightly touch her. She was soaking wet. She threw her head back and deep sigh escaped her throat. "Oh, God, yes..." she breathed. Just as abruptly I let go and pulled back. "No, not yet," I said. "Not now." I would have to head back to my work in just a few minutes and didn't have the time to take her properly now. Also, we were parked on a public street and I had noticed someone smoking on the sidewalk a dozen yards away taking a casual interest in us. I pointed him out to j. "See that guy over there?" "Yes." "Think he was watching us?" "Maybe." "Do you like being watched?" Again, the averted eyes. Then the steady look back. She started to move her mouth in answer, but could only nod her head. Yes. She liked being watched. "You dirty little slut! You're a tease, aren't you?" She immediately protested. "No! It's not like that...it's just that no one ever pays attention to me. If I can get some one to look at me..." I had trouble wrapping my head around this. She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. About 5' 4", 120 pounds. Almond-shaped chestnut-colored eyes. Perfectly proportioned hips and ass, runner's legs. Ideally toned arms, apple-sized breasts perfect for her small frame. Shoulder-length hair the color of her eyes with the most feminine wave running through it. She really had no idea of the effect she had when she walked in to a room- how every man would do a double-take. If anything, she probably felt so isolated because most guys would very deliberately try not to ogle her. I had had that problem for years, and had even joked with her while flirting that I always had to remind myself to look in her eyes while talking to her because I was so self-conscious about how I just wanted to devour her body with my eyes. "Look at me," I said. She did. "You are beautiful. All the way around. I like that you like being watched. We may have to use that in the future. But I've got to get back to work." She nodded. "But first I'll take what's mine." Again I leaned over her. I grabbed the back of her neck with my left hand and her swollen pussy with my right and kissed her, hard. The taste of her mouth was exquisite. I could smell her desire and it made my head swim. I knew I could lose myself so I pulled back quickly. "Before you go to bed, text me the number." She looked at me, at little bewildered. "Remember your task! Text me the number of people you looked in the eye today." She nodded, looked back at me. "Yes," she said. "I will do that. Thank you...sir." Just as quickly, I turned and got out of her car. Without a glance back, I headed back toward my office, grateful for the few blocks I had to walk. My heart was racing and I needed to calm down before I got back inside. I somehow got through the rest of the day and made it back home. After showering, I heard my phone vibrate and picked it up. A brief message from j: "I lost count at 17. I am so sorry. Please let me try again. I want to do better for you!" I smiled to myself. So...17. Now I knew how many spankings she needed. To be continued...