She knew that he had a key. She'd given it to him. It was stupid, and
impulsive. It was not smart. Fantasies aside, the nagging "what if" scenarios
played in her head over and over; each one with a different horrifying ending, but all
culminating in her dead, or maimed. It was one of those things she tended to do, to push
the envelope until it was falling over the edge with no hope of returning.
The longer she waited the more graphic and terrible her scenarios became. She lived
in a dormitory. If he was the wrong kind of man, he would have free roam of the whole
dormitory. A dormitory filled to capacity with young, vivacious, curious college girls.
Girls who, like her, liked to throw caution and good judgment to the wind. Caution. Silly
word. She thought of those construction horses with the blinking light. Too bad more
things weren't clearly labeled.
The straps of her heels were digging into her ankles. She'd followed his
instructions to the letter, desperate to impress him: heels, with straps; sheer negligee;
no panties; hair held away from her face. She’d chosen her baby-doll carefully, and tied
her long hair back with a simple bow. It was a new sensation to care at all about the
expectations of someone else. All her life she'd been a rebel. Never listening to
anyone, ignoring the best advice, slapping her parents' faces with the perpetual
"you don't know what you're talking about," punctuated with the
quintessential teenage slamming of the bedroom door. Now here she was, twenty years old,
even more dangerous and risqué, with a few sexual conquests to fuel her ego and
silence her common sense. All of her rebellion came to a screeching halt now, didn't
it?
She knelt on the floor, in front of her bed. Her knees splayed apart at a 90 degree
angle, hands upturned on her thighs, elbows pressed into her sides, shoulders back, chest
lifted, chin high with her eyes cast down on the floor. Every now and then, her scenarios
scared her sufficiently enough to challenge her to glance up and around. Still, she fought
the urge and won out. In the back of her mind, she thought maybe, just maybe he could
actually see her. She didn't want to disappoint him. Even while she wondered why she
felt such strong desire to please him, she couldn't think on it long enough to come
up with an answer. Maybe she didn't really care.
Their paths crossed in an unlikely place. She'd gone on a job interview for a
summer internship. She'd interviewed with 3 people before he walked into the room.
When he spoke, it was with such authority, that her usual flippant, know-it-all demeanor
was instantly stripped away. She still knew her stuff, but she wasn't so sure of
herself. When he abruptly told her that she wasn't the right fit, she broke down in
tears - something she had never done before. Something about her caught his attention,
though neither knew quite what it was. Another hour long conversation and she found
herself handing him her key while he gave her instructions verbally. She was desperate to
follow his instructions to detail, and nearly raced from the office complex to her car
where she frantically wrote everything down on a car-accident report form she'd found
in the glove box.
Kneeling in the semi-dark of her dormitory room, she began to panic. She
couldn't even remember what he looked like. Who would offer themselves to a man they
couldn't even identify? Her breathing quickened as the voice of common sense within
her rose to the surface, extolling the numbers of unidentified bodies of women found every
year, raped, maimed, humiliated and killed. Still, she dared not move from the pose
he'd instructed her to hold. She realized that she could actually hear her clock
ticking the seconds away. If she counted them, she might be able to know how much time was
passing. No, that would be cheating. He said specifically, "You will wait for me, no
matter how long it takes, or how numb your legs become, or how tired your body
feels." Pretty clear instructions.
The clock ticked on. No use trying to count anyway. She'd only be more aware
of how thirsty she was becoming, and how she couldn't actually feel her legs or feet
anymore. She thought about how reckless her life had been. How many dumb decisions could
have brought her face to face with a monster? How many times had she narrowly escaped
destruction? She didn't even know. She was becoming acutely aware of her
naiveté, and blatant ignorance. She was becoming aware of her own mortality and
what risk truly meant in the big real world. Realizing the gravity of having given a total
stranger a key to her dormitory, and her room, she began to cry. Just a few tears, running
down her cheeks onto her chest. Still, she remained motionless; breathing heavy, trying to
hold the pose, the thigh-highs no longer feeling sexy because she couldn't actually
feel her legs anymore.
She'd set the thermostat up a bit, and she was regretting that decision. When
she first set up, she was quite chilled in her baby-doll tied with a satin ribbon bow
between her breasts. And having no panties on, with her legs splayed certainly kept her
quite cool despite her initial arousal. Now, a very long time later, she was perspiring
from effort and a thermostat that read 70 degrees. The tears did little to help cool her
off. Although they did serve to remind her of how hot she was. A bead of sweat followed
her tears down her cheek. That's when she felt him.
A finger, a very cool finger, traced the path the sweat and tears had made. She
nearly jumped out of her skin, but strong arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind
and he whispered into her ear, "Huussshhhhhhhhhhh." She shuddered from the
thrill of his breath on her neck and ear. His hand stroked her neck as he slowly slid his
fingers along her jaw line and pushed her head back, gently, against his shoulder. She
tried to speak but his mouth silenced her immediately. His mouth tasted like wine as his
tongue explored hers in a slow and languid kiss that sent electricity shooting through her
whole body, straight down to her numb little feet. For just a moment, she wondered how he
got into her room without making a sound.
"You are quite thirsty, my sweet," he purred into her ear. "Here,
drink," bringing the glass of wine to her lips. Where had the wine come from? A
momentary panic raced through her as she wondered if he'd spiked the wine. The
thought was silly, after all, he tasted like wine, and surely he wouldn't drug
himself. "It's ok, angel, you're safe now." His words soothed every
aching place in her body and she felt safe. The common sense in her brain argued that even
a predator would tell his prey that they were safe. But the language of his body, the feel
of his fingers on her skin, and the loving and tender kiss argued back.
"You did exactly as you were told. I'm impressed. Novices usually are not
able to comply so thoroughly. But tell me, angel, why are you crying?" As he spoke,
he remained behind her, where she still could not see him. He tenderly stroked her arms,
her face, and her neck. Strangely, he avoided her breasts, barely covered by the
baby-doll, or for that matter, the rest of her clearly exposed body.
"I started to panic. I got scared."
"And what frightened you?" As he spoke, he brought the wine to her lips
once again, not letting her hold the glass herself, but gently tipping at precisely the
correct angle to offer her drink. She drank from the glass, sipping slowly, trying to
prolong the pause before she had to tell him the truth.
"I'm afraid to tell you. You'll get angry with me."
"I see. Now you're doubly afraid." It wasn't a question. But
he'd started tracing his lips along her neck and shoulder and she couldn't
speak. "Please," he purred in the most delicious, sexy voice she'd ever
heard, "please my angel, won't you tell me what is frightening you, so that I
may protect you?" Her head swam as she envisioned him rising to protect her from
unseen dangers. And what of him? Was HE an unseen danger? Oh, but his voice felt like
the finest satin, caressing her body, soothing her fears. And his chest, pressed against
her back, his thighs on either side of her hips. She closed her eyes, envisioning the
heated part of him pressed so tightly against her ass, only his trousers separating them.
She fought the urge to sway her ass gently against what she knew was a raging erection
beneath those trousers.
She sighed, wondering just what would happen when she did tell him. It was just
like in his office when she burst into tears, spilling every private detail with only the
slightest prodding from him. "I was afraid that I'd made a stupid mistake
giving you my dorm key. I was afraid that maybe you were, um, not a good guy?" Even
as she said it, her voice faltered and it came out more like a question than a statement.
He chuckled deep in his chest biting playfully on her shoulder. She felt him take a long
drink from the wine glass and set it aside.
She wanted to turn and look into his eyes so much that she had to grip his hand
across her to keep still. She remembered his most important instruction, the one he
repeated more than a few times in his office: “you must do exactly as I say, nothing more,
and nothing less.” There was no threat, it was just a piece of instruction, amidst the
many instructions he’d given her. Yet, the threat was implied; something she did not want
to happen would happen if she did not do exactly as she was told. He didn’t exactly say
to sit still, but his left arm wrapped securely from behind and across the front of her,
holding her right shoulder was statement enough. She waited for him to respond, clinging
fast to his left arm to remind herself to remain still.
"Yes, that was rather foolish. And naive. A very bad habit of yours which
I'm hoping to correct before something tragic happens.” He paused to let that sink
in. “Are you afraid of me, still, angel?"
"Yes." She was afraid of how he'd respond, but she knew she could
never lie to him, what was the point anyway? Clearly, this was no one night stand; no
“in, out, gone.” His intensity made it clear that this was merely the beginning of
something profound. Everything felt like it rested on the edge of a knife. She felt like
she was standing in between two worlds. Hesitant between the two, her fears mounted.
"Would you like me to leave?" As he said that, he'd stopped kissing
her, stroking her. His protective arm, once holding her in her world, slid down her body
and came to rest at his side. She knelt freely in the room with only the sensation of him
behind her. He sat very still behind her and she was more afraid than ever that he would
leave. She felt herself falling through the doorway into his world.
"NO!" She nearly shouted. "No, I don't want you to leave.
I'm just, impulsive, I do really risky things, I don't think, I'm careless.
This time, I could have endangered every woman in this dorm." He'd resumed his
kisses and stroking her arms; the protective arm resuming its place across her body,
holding her secure. Her posture relaxed a little. "Please, don't leave me."
She reached her free hand to touch his face, but his hand caught hers mid-air.
"You are a naughty little girl, aren't you?” Every time he laughed at
her, it was with the most delicate sincerity. He was not teasing her maliciously; but
instead, chiding her impertinence, and her naiveté. “I will stay, by MY rules, I
will stay. Tell me, sweet, what do you know about..." she could feel the smile spread
across his face, as he stopped mid-sentence. She knew where his words were trying to go,
so she asked the question out loud for him.
"...about Dominant-Submissive relationships?" she asked meekly.
"Yes." He seemed to relax knowing she already knew. It would make the
rest easier if he didn’t have to worry about her reaction to the lifestyle. Finding a
companion was complicated enough, without the pain and uncertainty of wondering when was
the right time to broach the subject. The beginning was best, the very beginning, then
there would be no behaviors to relearn, or bad habits to shake off. They could begin
fully knowing and understanding their roles.
She had studied psychology and had taken “The Psychology of Sexuality” the previous
semester. When she’d read about this lifestyle, she’d been intrigued. Still, she never
considered then, that she would find herself gravitating toward the life so eagerly. But,
from the moment she met him, in his office, she knew immediately, that she’d met a true
Dominant, and found herself desperate to belong to him.
"Very little. I tried to do a bit of research, but I could only find abstracts
in aberrant psychology." He laughed right out loud. “Actually, last semester, I took
a class on sexuality and psychology. So, I knew more from that class, but the Professor
didn’t use a textbook. It was all classroom discussion.” Using this moment as a segue he
picked her right up off the floor, her numb legs trailing beneath her. He moved across the
room to the only chair, and gently placed her in the seat. He came around to face her,
holding the tops of her thighs firmly in the chair. She was surprised to be looking
straight into his eyes. They were brown; very light brown, with flecks of gold. She was
mesmerized by his eyes. So close to his face she could smell his after-shave. Subtle,
sexy. Not at all like the Drakkar Noir crap that the college boys wore. Sometimes SHE felt
like she was fucking a French whore. But he was no immature college boy, thinking he was
luring prey with the not-so-subtle swath of artificial pheromones. He was a man, a grown,
mature, self-assured man. He smelled delicious; she breathed him in, deeply, letting her
eyes flutter shut. She involuntarily leaned forward, her lips parting as she neared him.
"ANGEL!" He spoke so sharply she was yanked out of her dreamy state.
"Do not close your eyes when I am speaking."
"I'm sorry," she stammered, holding her eyes open at his gaze.
"You smell so good. What cologne do you wear?" He suppressed a grin, shaking
his head slightly.
"We will play in just a few minutes. Right now, I must know, do you understand
what you are beginning here?"
A grin spread across her face, she could not suppress, "I'm the
submissive."
"And I am....?"
"You're the Master."
"Yes. And?"
And what? She didn’t know what he wanted from her. She stuttered, "You will
tell me what to do, and I will do it. I want to please you. I want to be good." She
didn't offer all the desires of her heart. It seemed too early to confess all the
things she wanted with and from him.
"You will be good. Or, you will be punished. Do you understand what that
means?"
"Yes. I let you punish me when I'm bad to help me remember what I'm
supposed to do. What I'm supposed to be doing. I do what I can to please you, satisfy
you and make you happy. And when I fail, I submit to the discipline to atone for failing
you." Though she claimed that she didn’t know much, her grasp of the nature betrayed
her claims. She clearly identified with the submissive without acknowledging it. How
else could she say those words? People outside the life continually criticize this
aspect, not understanding the true nature. But, she understood, clearly she understood.
"You know more than you realize.” He paused. While his desires told him to
move forward at the speed of light, the fact was, she was still a novice. He couldn’t be
certain that she truly understood to what she was committing herself. “Is that all there
is? You do my bidding, and that's it. You are my dog, to submit to my every
command?" His eyes teased her. He had a mischievous grin on his face.
"I don't understand. What else is there?"
All at once, he was serious. "I don't want a dog. I've had one
before. It didn't go well. Dogs tend to stray. Why are you here? What do YOU want
get out of this arrangement?"
"It feels good to do what I'm told, to be told what to do. I want to
please you. I want to do what you say. I get pleasure and satisfaction from submitting to
you." He stared into her eyes for a long time pondering her answer. He’d been down
this road before. She could see that much in his eyes. Then there was the “dog” remark,
which caused her concern. He was searching her, judging her, assessing her and she wanted
to scream out loud. All the while, he truly was searching her. Many novices make the
same mistake: they actually believe that all their satisfaction and pleasure will come
merely from their submission to a master. This was not true and the hallmark difference
between a submissive and a slave: a lesson he learned the hard, and most painful way. He
would not relive that nightmare. He was searching for a treasure, a precious and dear
companion whom he could lavish and enjoy. He had no interest in catering to those
searching for humiliation, degradation and suffering.
Slowly, he began, "Yes, that's part of it. But you must understand the
whole of it. I am the Master. I must know you, I must read you and lead you. I must guide
you, always be looking out for your well-being. I must discipline you, and if I
didn't I wouldn't be showing you MY love. I must know you better than you know
yourself, always one step ahead of you, to be there, ready to catch you. I must never let
preconceived biases interfere with how I perceive you. I must take you into the deepest
recesses of my soul and know you thoroughly. You submit to me, allowing my will to
overcome yours, bending your independent instincts and yielding to me. And I Master you,
like mastering a language or a new trade or skill. I know you fully, and thoroughly,
continuing to know you as you change through the passage of time. Do you understand? There
are two parts to this agreement. You submit to me, and I Master YOU." As he said
‘you,’ he placed his hand over her heart, holding his other hand on his own heart.
He let it all sink in. Searching her eyes, and breathing slowly and steadily. Soon,
her breathing matched his, though he didn't command her to do so. For him, it must
have been like watching a light slowly fill a dark room. She became aware in increments,
traveling from ignorance, through comprehension to complete understanding in the span of a
few moments. She was overcome with desire, her arousal evident across her entire body. His
face neared hers, slowly, ever so slowly, until his nose touched hers and his eyes bore
into her eyes searching her soul.
"I understand,” she whispered. The weight of his words fell heavy on her, as
she realized that she truly did understand.
Holding her face in his hands, he continued, “There is more, things you must
understand just as thoroughly. You must always remember that, while I may be your Master,
I am first and foremost, a Man. I must always clear my conscience of biases, of past
pain, past fears, and approach you fully in the now. That will always be my goal, but it
won’t necessarily always happen. You must always give me full, and unrestricted
disclosure to you and your thoughts. Do you understand what a ‘safe word’ is?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes growing wide at the thought that she would ever need a
safe word.
“Your safe word is Panic. If you say Panic while we are together, everything will
stop and we will discuss what is happening, and if or when we should or can continue. If
I push you too far, you must tell me. If I hurt you, or insult you, you must tell me. If
you have needs that are not being met, you must tell me. You must share all of yourself,
body, mind and spirit with me. Nothing hidden, no secrets, nothing held back. Do you
understand this?”
While she understood the words he spoke, she did not understand from where they
came. What pain had he suffered? What past fears could cloud his judgment? She would
have time later ask him these things. “Yes, I understand.”
"Do you accept this agreement? You must say it out loud." His voice, was
so confident and clear, in sharp contrast to her meek, barely audible whisper.
"I accept this agreement." It came out softer than a whisper. Though
there was no confusion or uncertainty as to what she’d just agreed, if he hadn’t been nose
to nose with her, he wouldn’t have heard her.
"I am your Master." His face came even closer, still staring into her
eyes, his lips a fraction from hers.
"I am yours to master." His lips found hers, thrusting his tongue into
her mouth. He released her face with one hand and he began massaging her legs in big
circles. Kissing her deeply, the other hand came to rest along her neck, then eased down
to where his palm rested just above her left breast, feeling her heart pounding under his
touch. The other hand, massaging her legs, each in turn, rubbing down her aching calves,
and ankles, working blood back into her tingly, pins-and-needles legs. She barely noticed
her legs, placing her hands over his hand covering her breast. Lost in his kiss she
wanted to belong to him no matter what the cost. She was both alarmed by her need and
aroused by his total command of her.
All too soon, he pulled away. "Now, my sweet angel. It’s time to get to know
you. He stood up, and circled around the back of her chair, holding her hand delicately.
"Let's see what happens when you can't use your hands."
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