Nana Kamiyama remembered when I first set eyes on him, at a party with my friends. I stood with two girls, also models, while foolish men sharked around, fawning over us to keep drinks flowing or tempt us with tidbits of amusing conversation. he stood to one side drinking champagne and observing. I felt the weight of his stare so I gave him a haughty look then ignored him. Except that I couldn’t seem to deny his presence, a power emanated from him which drew my glance his way, but I was discreet. After about an hour I noticed him leave, and suddenly the party felt pointless, no need to pout or strike poses to show my curves to their best advantage. Just then our hostess came to me and whispered. What? I was dumbstruck! I asked her who he was, she described him as the art dealer who had been observing me. His arrogance astounded and angered me. Yet I felt a disturbing clench in my pussy to be ordered about by a total stranger, it was rather a fantasy of mine. Nana Kamiyama hostess vouched for his good character and told me where he lived, which I recognised as a swanky part of town. I was intrigued where this might lead, so I told my friends I had a headache and left, collecting my coat and heading down onto the street, where his luxury car purred at the kerb. That night I discovered my true self had always craved being commanded and domineered. Some people find me arrogant and cold. My nickname on the modelling circuit is the Ice Maiden, not just because of my platinum blonde hair and porcelain skin. My emotions seem really damped down, I don’t get angry I get irritated, I don’t laugh, rather I smile. he flicked a switch in me when he drove me to his home – he barely talked to me in the car despite devouring me with smouldering eyes. My confidence wavered under his scrutiny, yet my nipples pebbled with desire. My stomach swirled with nerves while my panties clung to my moistening, swollen labia.