Surrendering to my Master

One of my first experiences as a submissive was when I was already a mature woman. I had met a man who was an experienced Master in the field. We contacted each other through a chat and one of his former submissives. She called me to meet him personally. The typical: a discreet bar, a convenient hour, and coffee. Plus one condition: he wouldn't wear boxers and shorts. That single command excited me. I don't wear shorts and always wear underwear. But it excited me to obey. His voice had sounded firm and authoritative. Warm and dominant. At the agreed-upon time, I arrived at the bar. I knew he was a younger man than me, much younger. Dark hair and short. Tall, corpulent, and not much more. He didn't know what I looked like physically, except that he could be my mother. He would identify me because on the table there would be a thick book with red covers. I entered and recognized him immediately. Not from the book, but from the erotic and demanding energy emanating from him. He must have perceived my excitement. We discovered each other's gaze, you want to desire me to enjoy submitting to you, I desire you to submit to me. He stood up, smiled at me, saw the red book on the table. He invited me to sit down and told me directly, without preamble I want you as a slave, you'll learn to suffer and enjoy, and never again will you want conventional sex