Order Me

Imagine me, living on the Upper West Side! That was as unlikely as any other fantasy I'd had of late, except, of course for one.

And there were problems attached to it. I couldn't tell anyone how I could afford to stay there, for one thing. And I certainly couldn't let them guess! They'd be horrified. Even I was still more than a little shocked.

I was going to be a kept woman!

It was an old-fashioned concept, and this one had a very, very old-fashioned tilt to it.

You see, until a couple of weeks ago I was as ordinary as any other girl you'd find in New York, except for being a bit taller and, not to sound egotistical, kind of better looking and better built than most. Then the pictures started...

They were drawings, but so realistic I had at first thought them pictures. Except they were of me, naked, in bondage to an incredibly hunky guy whose face was never shown. I was horrified, at first, of course, and embarrassed. But as the pictures kept coming and I kept looking at them, well, the idea of doing that sort of thing with that gorgeous man in the pictures – kind of became an obsession!

I couldn't tell anyone about them, could only look at them, day after day, pictures which showed me in the most shocking, wicked and submissive poses acting like... a sex slave to the impossibly beautiful male body which was drawn with me!

That body was so incredible, so breathtakingly strong and muscled and well-proportioned that I was certain it was fake, drawn from the author's imagination. Yet mine was disturbingly accurate, so when I got written directions to come to this apartment and wait, well... I couldn't not come!

And he'd been every bit as gorgeous as the pictures had shown him to be! But of course, then he'd proceeded to do what the pictures had shown him doing to me, and that included tying me up and driving me insane with pleasure!

And, well... a little discipline, too...

I wasn't what I thought of as a 'submissive' girl, but I'd found myself turning into a puddle of goo, so filled with a dark, thrilled sexual heat and longing I'd been putty in his hands! I had seen his face for the first time, and it was stern and handsome, and went perfectly with that body. But so did the attitude.

He'd refused to give me his name. The only name I needed to call him, he'd said, was 'Master'. Which was kinky and wild and also ridiculous! But the heat, the dark, burning heat he'd given me, was in control, and I couldn't refuse him anything!

He'd told me I would be moving in in a week, that this would be my place, and that I was to take nothing, not even clothing. All would be purchased for me. Talk about outrageous! I was filled with disbelief, at first, but he wasn't kidding.

Now you might be saying about now that I should have told him to drop dead. But you haven't seen that body, haven't felt his lips, his tongue, his fingers against your skin, haven't felt the soaring heights of ecstasy as he made you climax.

And you haven't seen this apartment, either. Living in Manhattan was ridiculously expensive unless you got lucky and either inherited or purloined a place which had been under rent control for decades. Living in an apartment like this one was virtually impossible for someone like me.

It had a huge living room with fireplace, and big windows, including a big bay window, looking out onto a tree lined street only a few blocks from Central Park. It was a secure building in a safe neighborhood, with a full exercise room and pool, as well as a rooftop deck.

The bedroom was enormous, and it had a walk-in closet and a huge en-suite bathroom with a big shower, marble floor, and a bidet, of all things! The kitchen alone was bigger than my apartment, all gleaming hardwood, granite counters and stainless steel appliances.

This was a multi-million dollar apartment! And I would be living here! Why would I say no to that? Because then the guy whose name I didn't even know would be able to assume he had the right to have sex with me? I would deal with that if the time ever occurred when I didn't want him to!

Because saying no to him was, quite frankly, not something I put a lot of thought into. And not just because he's this big, broad shouldered, barrel chested guy who looks like he can bend steel bars with his bare hands.

No, he's also very deep-voiced, with this dominating presence that makes any thought of equality ridiculous. I mean, he was older, more sophisticated, richer and more powerful. And he just... when he said something you moved to do it right away! And that had nothing to do with sex!

But I was just into my twenties, and my only experiences with men were, frankly, with boys, that is, guys, not 'men'. I'd never dated a guy as old as him. He was probably thirty! I'd also never dated a guy as big as him, and certainly never made love to a guy as kinky and perverted as him!

I'd also never had an orgasm with a guy before. I mean, sex was nice, but mostly it was hurried – if they were drunk – or soft and gentle if they were the other kind of guy. This man was like a wild bull! He was very determined! And he did to me whatever he wanted without asking first or apologizing later!

That had me kind of out of my element, if you know what I mean. I was sort of overwhelmed by him and didn't really even know how to react – other than to do what he told me to do. Everyone significantly older than me had been bossing me around my whole life, so I was kind of used to it.

Of course, none of them had ever strapped my bare bottom! That had been an experience, to be sure! And that sort of thing made me feel wary and anxious whenever I thought about him. But that was just the darker tinge to the wild feeling of thrilling heat that was my main emotion.

When I went home I was reeling from all the thoughts and emotions filling my head. It was impossible to go more than a few minutes without thinking about it, without thinking about him! I still had no idea who he was except that he obviously worked at my building somewhere. It was a very large building though, of more than fifty stories.

I'd never seen him there before, but he obviously had access to the inter-office mail, which was how he sent me all those drawings of myself in bondage to him.

I went back to work on Monday, stomach quivering, wondering what awaited me. But there was nothing. The inter-office mail contained no pictures of me, and nothing was left on my desk. It was still hard to concentrate on my work, at first. I kept waiting for something to happen, maybe even for him to show up, now that he'd let me see his face.

But the day passed in boring routine. So did the next, and the next. There were no pictures, and all I could do was look at the ones I'd brought home, and feel my heart beat faster at the memories of what he'd done to me, and that incredible body.

I was feeling, believe it or not, neglected, by Thursday. He hadn't called or sent me anything or given any sign he even knew I existed. I was feeling fidgety and annoyed. Every day I'd gotten those drawings, and now I had nothing.

Was he satisfied now that he'd used me so thoroughly? Would I never hear from him again? Would I show up at that apartment and find it as empty as it had been last week, he having moved on to sending drawings to some other pretty girl?