One of the challenges of being a Dom early on is taking charge and "owning" a space belonging to another. First meetings in the sub's space (not to be confused with subspace) exacerbate that challenge.
And I had never before been in the home of a sub who was so... equipped. Marti's basement was a study in sybaritic delights, and I didn't really come with a plan, much less a kit. I like to improvise, turning ordinary household objects into "pervertables," taking advantage of what I find around me. Redundant, in this case.
Another looming issue I considered in the 45 seconds before Marti would be back with the wine is that there was an immediate, electric and profound sexual attraction between us the moment she opened the door.
"And that's a problem because...?"
Well, a scene, at least to me, needs a flow, a sequence of events leading up to a climax - sexual or otherwise. And while I am aware that not every BDSM or D/s relationship involves sex, in My world, subs get fucked. It's kinda what they're for.
This one agreed thoroughly, and had made that plain in all our chats, conversation and online play. Three holes, no waiting, and every square inch available.
So while I had every intention of turning this woman inside-out and every confidence she shared that desire - it was a question of timing and what came before - and after.
Then, just as I heard her tiny bare feet padding down the stairs, I realized her playroom was laid out along the periphery in a perfect sequence, from a simple, narrow bench ideal for otk spankings all the way around to eyebolts in the wall configured in the perfect outline of a St. Andrew's cross, and finally, to the breeding table.
Whether organically or deliberately, all the cool, fun stuff was laid out exactly as I would have had I had the private space rather than being an apartment-dweller.
I smiled.
"Fill me up, put the bottle over on that side-table, girl," I said. "And come here."