Angela Larsen was by no means a model. She was actually a slightly frumpy introverted late thirty-something, who had never married, mainly due to her shy nervous disposition. She was terrified by the prospect of dating and relationships, and therefore pushed her sexuality to the side by immersing herself into her career. In that, at least, she was successful, rising up the corporate ladder faster than her peers, mainly because she could dedicate herself 100% to her job.
She was by any standard comfortably wealthy, since she had no vices to speak of. She ended her working day by 9pm, and had nothing to look forward to than a quick meal, a bath, and bed, before restarting her daily existence early the next morning. Weekends were invariably spent with a good book.
That was, however, until her safe, sterile world came crashing down. Her company became the target of a hostile takeover, and she was made redundant. Not that her finances would suffer inordinately, thanks to her healthy bank balance and a generous redundancy package. Her problem now was time. She had way too much of it on her hands, and slowly she came to the realization that she had wasted her most of her best years.
Angela had no real friends. She had only ever had colleagues, and was terrified at the prospect of having to build a new life involving other persons. Her one attempt at going to a club ended in disaster, when she literally froze on being approached by a man.
Weeks went by, and she couldn’t summon up the courage to try again. One night, as she was about to cry herself to sleep, her vacant gaze chanced to land on her PC. It still had the manufacturer’s plastic dustsheets on. She had bought it a year ago, mainly because her ex-company had a good staff deal. She had even subscribed to a fast Internet provider, but it had remained idle ever since.
Angela suddenly realized that her hang ups were interpersonal in nature, and maybe – just maybe...
She booted up the computer, and logged onto her ISP. She made a search for chat servers, and she clicked onto the first one listed...Chatropolis.com
Angela, trembling, entered a chatroom and it wasn’t too long before she hesitantly began an online text chat with a man. She found herself hugely enjoying the experience, joining with others on a mental level without her damn nerves getting in the way.
A few days later, while online, she ‘witnessed’ a virtual sex session between two people on Chatropolis. They hadn’t bothered to engage the privacy mode, and her jaw dropped at the explicit sexual fiction. To her it was as though she was in the room with this couple, watching the action. She suddenly realized that her crotch was damp, and she began to rub her sex, quickly coming to an almighty orgasm.
She then began exploring the other sex related chat rooms, and revelled in the variety of tastes and flavours of sex. After a while, she noticed a pattern emerging. She tended to return to the BDSM rooms more than others.
Soon after, she was following another explicit virtual sex session. It was between a man named “Max” and he was gently but firmly dominating a woman named “Satin”. Angela was enthralled by her mental image of the scene. After Max had finished Satin off, Angela (Angel) began a cautious chat with him.
Angel: Hi, Max?
Angel: I really enjoyed what U did 2 Satin.
Max: Good! I like my audience to be satisfied.
Angel: Do you ever get 2 do it in real life?
Max: No, but I’d love to.
Angel: Where U from?
Max: London, UK, district called Weysham.
Angela was dumbstruck; Weysham was a five-minute walk from her home! Could it be destiny was finally going to give her a final chance for a real relationship?
Over the next few days her online chats with Max became more intimate. She slowly opened her innermost self to him, and he appeared to respond likewise. There was always the nagging doubt in her mind that Max might not be the gentleman he purported to be online, but she knew that- if only for once- she had to take a chance.
Angel: Did you say once that you were from Weysham?
Max: Yes. When R U going to tell me where U R?
Angel: I’m in Amerton.
Max: THE Amerton? ...In London?
Angel: Yes... I’d like 2 meet U 4 real.
Angela’s heart seemed to stop for an eternity. Had she frightened him off?
Max: R U sure?
Angela’s fingers flew over her keyboard.
Angel: Yeah. If what ur saying is true I really want 2 meet u. I want U 2 do to me what U did 2 Satin.
Max: OK... No strings? And U R really a woman?
Angela laughed out loud.
Angel: Yes 2 the gender and no 2 the strings. Only thing, I don’t want 2 have the chance 2 back out. U know my problem with my hang-ups.
Max: OK... let me think about it. Let U know.
Angela spent the next few days in a state of near panic. Suddenly, on the Chat room...
Max: Angel? Go to privacy mode.
Max: OK... got it set up. C U this eve at the Royal hotel, room 346.As from 8pm.Pick up the key from reception.
Angela nearly screamed.
She spent some time picking out her clothes for the encounter... a little black dress - couldn’t go wrong with that...shoes ... jewellery (not too over the top)...Underwear? – She took out all she had, and it was obvious that none would do. She had never, but never, had to use anything other than plain everyday items. Checked her watch – one hour to go!
She dressed quickly and ran out of her flat into the nearby shopping arcade, entering a small lingerie shop owned by Jane Langdon, one of her few acquaintances.
“Hello Miss Larsen, glad to see you so soon. Your usual, or might I interest you in anything else today?”
“Well, yes... said Angela hesitantly. Would you have something...lacier?”
Jane stopped in her tracks, surprised. Angela had never in ten years expressed an interest in anything other than the plainest possible cotton panties and bras.
Jane passed a critical eye over Angela’s body, and after a short while picked out a black satin set made up of a pair of French panties and cami top.
Angela turned a deep red and it took a while before she could stammer “Can...I use suspenders with that?”
“But of course, Miss Larsen” said Jane and immediately produced a particularly attractive suspender belt and matching sheer stockings. “Be sure to put the belt and stockings on before the panties”
Angela paid for the items and asked, “May I use the changing room?”
Jane immediately showed her the way, and Angela rushed to put on the unfamiliar garments, after which she pelted out of the shop towards the Royal Hotel, which she saw was very well appointed.
She made her way to Room 346 and hesitantly opened the door. Darkness lay within. She entered the room and turned on the lights. She then explored the suite, and found herself alone.
Angela finally entered the bedroom and her eyes fell on an assortment of items laid out on the bed. There was also a note...
I know you’re surprised not to find
me here. I’ve done it on purpose, so that
if you decide to carry on it’ll be your
decision without any pressure from
Once you put on the items you see on the
bed, just wait for me to come to you.
If at any time you want to pull out, just hum
the opening bars of “Rule Britannia!”
Hum? Rule Britannia?
She then looked at the assortment of items on the bed, and felt her pulse begin to race. She felt breathless as she saw... a red ballgag... sleepmask... handcuffs. These were linked to the headboard with a length of chain. Ankle cuffs were also present, each linked to opposite lower bedposts with chain.
Angela sat on the bed for a good five minutes before deciding to go through with it. She slowly undressed to her underwear and sat down in the middle of the bed, clumsily fitting the ballgag around her neck. She had to will herself to spread her legs, exposing her satin pantied crotch before clicking the ankle cuffs closed. It was only then that she noticed that there were no keys...
Too late now. She lay back, placed the mask over her eyes, reached up over her head and found the handcuffs, and ever so slowly, click-by-click, ratcheted them closed. She then realized that she had forgotten to place the gag in her mouth.
Angela lay in the dark for what seemed to be an eternity. She tested her chains, and found them unyielding. She had no choice but to await her fate. Time passed...
A slight chink, almost imagined rather than heard, brought her to full attention. She sensed that she was no longer alone. The mattress tilted slightly, as someone sat on the edge. The softest of caresses landed on her thigh – her first ever-intimate contact. She almost cried out in joy.
The caresses moved up to her waist, over her satin lingerie, then brushed past her breasts as her face was cupped by those gentlest of hands. Then followed her first kiss, by unseen lips. Her mouth remained slightly open after that first contact, to be teasingly moistened by her invisible lover’s tongue. The ballgag was then gently inserted into her mouth.
The unseen hands ever so slowly gently moved all over her arms and legs, face and torso, keeping well away from her sex. In her mind she screamed for him to touch her cunt... Him? She suddenly realized that “Max” might not even be a Man.... then decided that here and now, that was the least of her worries. She just wanted to experience the raw sex of the moment.
After an eternity, the caresses finally inched down to her panties, by now sodden with her juices. Ever so slowly, the panties were pushed to the side and the first ever foreign contact with her swollen clitoris felt like an electric bolt throughout her entire body.
She then felt a small package placed in her fingers... she felt it and realized that it was a sealed condom. “Max” was asking her for permission... Hell yes! She nodded her assent and the touching hands receded for a moment... Angela heard a faint rustling.
She felt the ankle cuffs being removed and strong hands reached under her ass and she was moved into position, legs spread wide. She then felt her first ever cock brush her cunt lips; coming to rest against her sex. Well lubricated with her juices, it slid easily inside, Angela savouring every millimetre of its entry. A sudden twist of pain as her hymen ruptured, and then she felt the joy of no longer being a virgin, after so many sterile years.
Her unseen lover began to thrust powerfully into her, and Angela had to resist the urge to come immediately. This was her moment, and she was determined to make it last. Hands, no longer quite so gentle, massaged her breasts heavily. The ball gag was abruptly removed, and hungry lips met hers. She thrust her tongue into the waiting mouth, eagerly exploring this new territory.
As the pounding continued, a feeling of pure pleasure grew inside her. She strained against the handcuffs, wishing to embrace “Max”, but it was futile. The frustration simply added to her desire and she gave way to the building climax, which hit her with tsunamis of sheer bliss, washing up and down her spent body. She slumped down on the sweat soaked bed, utterly spent. She dimly sensed “Max” also coming to his limit and the sudden warm spurt of semen in her cunt, contained by the condom. For the first time in her life, she felt complete. She felt “Max” slowly withdraw, and only reluctantly let him go. She then lost consciousness, falling into a deep dreamless sleep...
Angela slowly awoke to the light of a new day. Her bonds had been removed, and she suddenly realised that she was alone in the bed...she jumped up and searched the apartment. No “Max” to be found. She slowly cleaned herself up and dressed. She wondered whether she would ever meet him again, and whether she could now build up a new life without the shyness and nerves.
As she walked home, she suddenly became aware that her outlook seemed to have changed. Passing a building site, some workmen wolf whistled her. She flashed them a teasing smile. Only a day earlier, she would have looked away and hurried her pace. Instead, she slowed down and even gave them a flash of thigh. Her heart sang with her newfound confidence. She didn’t even notice the figure discreetly following her at a distance.
Over the following weeks Angela began to frequent clubs and bars, slowly beginning to develop a vibrant personality. She also returned to the Chatropolis chat rooms trying to find “Max”, but he seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Eventually she gave up trying, but she held a secret place in her heart for him.
One night at the Club Domino, she met with her new friends. A mix of unattached men & women and the odd couple or two. She took to dancing with rather more enthusiasm than skill, but then, anything Women do looks good to Men after a couple of pints. She had a great evening, which all too soon came to an end. Her gang spilled out onto the street, saying their goodbyes and each heading their separate ways, except for one man, who had very recently joined her circle of friends. She was rather taken with him; he seemed to be a nice considerate guy, and good looking in a craggy sort of way. She knew him as John Anders.
“Hey, going my way?” he said, hurrying up to her side.
“Yeah, if you’re going Amerton way. Wanna walk with me?”
“Sure”. And with that, Angela and John slowly began a deep relationship, which over the following months blossomed into love. They eventually married in the parish church near Angela’s home. Funny, though, that he never invited her to his place. She just assumed that he was a slob.
Angela and John were resplendent in their wedding gear having just exchanged vows. She sat at the table that had been laid out so as to sign the Marriage register. She neatly printed out her name, address, and signed with a flourish. She remained seated as the Minister passed the large tome to John to sign. As the book was again placed before her, she casually read John’s entry:
John MAXimillian Anders
Her jaw dropped and her wide eyes sought his. As they met, his face broke into a wide grin and he very, very, privately whispered to her:
“Hello again, Miss ANGEL! “
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