Paris (Part 1)

By on November 22, 2010.

22nd November 2010

3.45am! That was the hideous hour we had to get up in order to catch the train from the town I live in, to London so that we could get the Euro Star. I am not good in the mornings at the best of times but this was just silly. Luckily, he seems to be good at any time of the day or night, no pun intended, and so it was a very smooth and calm journey. The Euro Star is remarkably efficient and well organised, the journey went so quickly but then all time spent with Him seems to be like that. Snuggling in his arms talking about what life will be like when we are together every day just filled me with a sense of calm and peace. It feels like we still have a mountain to climb to get to that place but talking and laughing and imagining that life goes a long way to making it that bit more real.

I had been told very firmly to make sure that whatever I chose to wear would give him easy access to me. As we neared the end of our journey he started to whisper in my ear about my missed tasks and how my punishment last night, for the quiz debacle (those of you who attend JK quiz night I am sure will know what I am referring to) had been me getting off lightly. I nodded and replied Yes Sir but as I squirmed in my seat the tender bruising served well to remind me that those moments with the belt had been far from easy. And so he talked, about His joy of using me, about how dirty I am, about what He has bought with Him in His bag to Paris and soon I found myself opening my legs and looking up at him, pleading with me eyes for His touch.

He chuckled as I pulled on his wrist, trying to guide his hand up my skirt, seeking his hard probing fingers to delve between my folds and rub at my hot wet pussy. Pushing up against my panties only served to make me lift me hips, I needed to be touched, and I needed to feel His fingers in me. Leaning round and pulling my fairly short skirt down across to hide His hand, he lifted my panties to one side and drove his finger deep into me. Again and again he pushed into me, His thumb rubbing at my wet and slippery clit until I was grinding down onto his hand, the muscles in my pussy starting to twitch and grasp at his finger.

Paris is cold and that does not combine well with a woman in a very short skirt, hold up stockings and a shortage of Taxi’s. I have never seen a queue at a taxi rank quite this long. He stood there perfectly comfortable in a t-shirt and leather jacket , I don’t know how he does it, he is never ever cold and yet I was shivering, the cold starting to seep right onto my bones and so we stood and stood and stood. In the end it was our turn and finally I was out of the cold. However the effects of that chilling experience took most of the afternoon to wear off

We are staying in a rather quaint little hotel right next to the Pompidou Centre, a very strange building that I can’t decide if it’s truly ugly or uniquely beautiful. Our room is cosy, with low beam ceilings and high windows looking out onto a tiny internal courtyard and now that I have wrestled the radiator into submission (I can be Dom when it comes to warmth) it is deliciously warm. For the next 2 nights, this will be our home, the place where he will continue to teach me what it will be like to be His 24/7.

The reason for this trip is business for him so it will be up to me to entertain myself during the day. I have a few things that I want to see, but this bitter cold weather may impede my ability to achieve it all. I just don’t operate well in the cold. However this evening has seen the purchase of a new hat, it’s white and fleecy and it looks surprising chic on, so maybe tomorrow I will manage to brave the weather and see some more of Paris.

It’s late now, we have had the most wonderful romantic meal and short walk and are now back in our room. He is watching bad French TV and I am finishing this, his hand caress the back of my legs and arse as I lay face down on the bed next to Him. Writing this has made me wet all over again, the thought of His fingers filling my pussy on the train lingers in my mind, the burning unsatisfied throb from being left on the edge was only masked by the cold, it is returning now, with vengeance.


Ps….Pictures to come I hope, camera is with me but no download cable, so your patience will be much appreciated.


Molly Moore - Author, Blogger, Photographer, Speaker
Find me in my corner of the internet at Molly's Daily Kiss
and on Twitter @mollysdailykiss

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