Surrender

I set the book aside with a deep sigh. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and I’d just finished the final book in the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy that my friend Chelsea had recommended. The Texas twilight was deepening outside my apartment window; another weekend spent indoors and alone, this time with my nose in a book, dressed in sweats and cocooned on the couch in an old afghan. Where’s my Christian Grey? I sighed again.

Do men like that really exist? Or was he just a fantasy of the book’s author? I knew there was a whole BDSM scene out there, people who enjoyed tying up their partner, spanking them, whips, chains, all that. Honestly, it all intrigues me—quite a bit, in fact. And it scares me as well; the idea of giving up complete control in return for boundless pleasure. But how can someone learn to trust a man enough to surrender to him completely? It made my head hurt thinking about it, and my body quiver both with desire and in pure white-knuckle fear.

It wasn’t so much the wealth and power of the Christian Grey character that appealed to me—although I’d never walk away from a millionaire—but that a man would enjoy dominating a woman so passionately, and in doing so, could provide so much pleasure to her, but not crush her spirit in the process. It was a completely foreign idea to me. I’m never been one to willingly ask for pain, or ever wanted to be dominated by a man, but there was something very deeply arousing about the thought that pain could be pleasurable, that giving control of yourself in such a vulnerable situation over to someone else could intensify the whole erotic experience.

What kind of man would be able to do that? Would he be that way all of the time, or just in the bedroom? Would it mean that I was placing myself beneath a man? That I was belittling myself in some way? The feminist in me wanted to scream that it was disgusting, humiliating and absurd, yet another part of me, a darker, animalistic part of my very core ached to be taken so fully, with or without my full consent. I couldn’t believe the delicious rush of heat that washed over my skin at the thought of giving my body for a man’s total and completely selfish use. To let him position me however he chose, to bind me so that I was nothing more than his possession to play with and discard at his desire.

My body was always my greatest obstacle when it came to truly enjoying sex. I was always a heavier-set woman; “full-figured” is the term that most people use though I always just feel fat. It doesn’t matter what fancy terminology or trendy wordage is currently appropriate, when I find myself in bed with a man I’m instantly on high alert, careful not to let him explore my body too much, fearful that I will turn him off...and turn him away. I wonder if other women of my size feel that way and then I think of the countless magazines, reality television shows and celebrities; all plus size, who claim that they love their curves and wonder if it’s really just me.

A vague thought runs through my head before surfacing as a concrete idea. I know there are dating sites for almost every type of persuasion; gay, Latino, Christian. There had to be BDSM dating sites. Would joining one, even out of curiosity, be such a bad thing? What did I really have to lose?

My cell phone interrupted my thoughts. I fumbled for the phone as the book slid to the floor. I glanced at the caller ID; it was my friend Leslie.

“Abby! Where have you been? I’ve been texting you for over an hour. Have you got something going on with some guy that I don’t know about?” Her laughter floated out through the phone and I found myself growling at her timing.

“No such luck. I just finished the last of the 50 Shades books. I think I must have just zoned out there for couple hours.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that they were the best books that I’ve ever read or anything, but they really make you think about things. Like why I keep going out with the same kinds of guys, the ones who like me fine until things get serious and then they bail. Or the ones who tell me I’m really nice, but not someone they want to date. Pretty face, but that’s it. Which translates into, I’m fat.”

“Abby, don’t start with the fat comments again. You’re not fat. There’s just more of you to love.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that I’d get liposuction.” I heard her sigh on her end of the line.

“Listen, Leslie, there’s some stuff I’ve got to do tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow, or better yet; do you want to do lunch? I’ve got only one client in the late afternoon.”

Leslie worked in the same marketing firm I did, in the Human Resources department. I handled clients out in the field. We try to grab lunch together a couple times a week, but my schedule sometimes made that hard.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan. I’ll call you and we can pick a spot.” We ended the call and I dropped the phone on the table. Spotting the book on the floor, I picked it up, running my fingers over the cover. You’re out there somewhere, my Mr. Grey. I just need to start looking.

Throwing off the afghan, I went to my office and turned on my laptop. A quick online search gave me several sites to pick from, one with what looked like many members in my area. I clicked the link to sign up. What do I have to lose?

“Hey, Big Guy. You want to help me set up this profile?” The cat didn’t answer; I was on my own. I’d done this on so many other sites, but this time my hands were trembling as I typed. Get a grip, girl. It’s not a life or death situation here. It’s just a dating site.

“Okay. So, first up: username. Um...Abby Phillips?” Not so original. The site, thankfully, had an autosuggest feature. One immediately caught my eye: Miss Venus.

I worked through the sign up page and the member profile page opened up. I scanned the choices. Some were pretty straightforward.

But the rest made me stop. Orientation? Dominant? Submissive? Slave? Switch? What the hell?

I pick submissive. Not sure slave is in my nature. And I’m not even sure what a switch is.

Age, okay, I know that; 26. I cringe at the next couple boxes: height and weight. Okay. Five foot seven, no problem. The other box I look at for a long, long time. I finally enter a number, backspace the last two digits and then re-enter them, minus twenty pounds. Maybe it would look better if I entered it in kilograms. I sighed and hit enter.

After much thought I compose a profile that I hope sounds passable, not as unsure or insecure sounding as I feel inside. I searched through the picture file on my laptop and found the least embarrassing picture I could and uploaded it. After the profile is complete, I sit back, marveling at what I’ve just done.

“Well, Big Guy, it’s up to fate and the internet gods.” I absently scratched the cat under his chin, looking at the screen, not sure if I wanted a guy to contact me or not. What would I say? Was I really ready to go through dating hell again, to set myself up for all the trauma and heartache? As much as I didn’t want to go through all that, this time seemed different. There was something deeper, some other level I wanted to explore and I sincerely hoped this site would give me that.

“Okay. Dinner for two coming up.” The cat followed me to the kitchen and we shared dinner; kibble for him and a salad for me, with a nice glass of Chardonnay. After cleaning up the kitchen, I ran a hot bath, shedding my sweats and sinking into a wealth of lavender scented bubbles.

I let my mind drift, the steam and hot water relaxing me. I didn’t want to think about my past dating experiments, but some of them rose up, unbidden. The guy who, after one date, took me to meet his parents and announced we were getting married, without having mentioned anything to me. Or the guy who spent our first date explaining the meaning of each and every tattoo on his body. It was the first date I ever walked out on, feeling like a failure for even going in the first place. He later told me my photo was outdated and I should use a different one; I didn’t ‘represent’ well in real life. I blocked his profile and then switched to a different dating site.

But there had been one or two guys with whom I’d hit it off, at least at first. The construction guy with the most beautiful blue eyes and huge biceps who I’d spent a weekend with in a cheap hotel, only to find out a few days later he was married.

I thought about Jack West, the guy with the blue eyes, and the weekend of unbridled sex we’d had. I’d felt sexy and confident; an equal partner in that encounter. I didn’t think it was true love, but I felt we had a serious connection, on more than just a sexual level. All an illusion, as it turned out, but the memory of the sex still sent a wave of heat through my body.

The warmth of the water and the memory of Jack lit a fire that spread slowly through my body. I let my hands drift lightly over my body, my skin silky smooth from the bath oils. I closed my eyes, my hands sliding over my breasts, skimming over my stomach, finally moving between my legs. They relaxed, falling open, my fingers finding my clit, already swollen and sensitive from the memories of Jack, of his hands and mouth and tongue on my body. With him, everything had felt so natural. He had been the first man I’d truly enjoyed having him watch me as we had sex. Normally the thought of the lights on during sex had sent me sinking deep under the covers for shelter, but with him I’d been unashamed of what I considered as my less than perfect body.

The image of him on the rumpled sheets, lying beneath me as I straddled his hips, his thick cock buried to the hilt in me came flooding back, sending ripples of pleasure through my body as my fingers teased my clit. I’d ridden him hard for a long time, circling my hips, grinding my body against his. He’d finally pulled me down so my breasts were in his face, sucking and licking each in turn, pulling hard with his mouth - and occasionally his teeth - on my sensitive nipples. The sensations were incredible. I came hard, crying out, my body shaking from the intensity as I fell onto his muscular chest, his arms wrapped around me, my orgasm drenching him and the sheets beneath.

He’d rolled me over then in one swift movement as the aftershocks still wracked my body, bracing his knees on the bed, thrusting into me hard and fast, his eyes locked with mine as he held himself above me, as I ran my hands over those wonderfully strong arms.

He came quickly and just as hard as I had, each thrust accompanied by ever-louder grunts. With his head tipped back and those startling blue eyes finally closed in ecstasy, he came, his orgasm sending an amazing flood of wet heat washing through my body. Instantly I came again, my hips rising to meet his final penetrating thrusts, as his cock pumped the last of his orgasm into me.

My hips were moving now as if Jack was there with me, the heat of the bath water splashing against me, mimicking the sensation of his hot load shooting into me. The water sloshed over the edge of the tub as I brought myself to an intense orgasm, my body jerking in diminishing spasms as my body gradually relaxed. My fingers finally slowing their frantic pace, still rubbing and stroking my clit, but now more slowly, languorously, lingering currents of pleasure still flowing through me.

The water had cooled and I climbed out of the bath, pulling the drain, drying myself slowly with a big fluffy towel. I went through my Sunday ritual of using my most expensive body lotion, rubbing the exotic smelling liquid over my skin, imagining a time when I might be going through all this not just for myself, but for someone else’s enjoyment. Closing the door on the bathroom cabinet, I took a moment to look at my face in the mirror.

Same old face; green eyes, shoulder length blonde hair. No wrinkles, yet. Pulling my hair up, away from my face, I toy once again with the idea of cutting it short. But I’d had a pixie hair cut in grade school and the memories of being mistaken for a boy still haunted me. I let it go, watching as it tumbled down around my shoulders. You’re safe from scissors once again.

Dressed in my nightgown and robe, I walked past my office. The desk light is on, the laptop dimmed but still powered up. I hit the touchpad and the screen brightened. The page for Collar Me is still open, right where I left it. And blinking in the upper left corner is a tiny red envelope icon; someone had sent me a message. I swallowed hard.

I pulled my office chair closer, hesitating just a moment before clicking the icon. The messages—there’s more than one—opened on my screen, and I held my breath as I read through them. The first one was so disgusting I deleted it before I even finished reading the first sentence.

The next message was pretty bland, but the photo enclosed was of a man wearing a wig, fishnet stockings and not much more. Um....not what I was looking for.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I clicked on the last brief message, thankfully with no additional photo included.

I saw your profile tonight and it interested me a great deal. If you’d like to chat, please reply. I’m new to this site, and new to the BDSM world as well. I get the sense you are too.

“Oh, holy shit.” I clicked on the link to his profile. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but I wasn’t sure why; he wasn’t a client at least. His profile listed his height at 6’ 3”, with black hair and blue eyes. Oh, blue eyes and tall. So far, so good.

He had several photos available in his profile, all highlighting his chiseled face and those impossibly blue eyes. The first was of him in a tight black t-shirt and low-slung jeans, leaning against a wall. He looked lean and rangy, not skinny, but not all big muscles. As much as I like husky guys, his body was very appealing to me. And I certainly liked the way he looked in his jeans.

But the next photo I opened took my breath away. He was looking directly into the camera, blue eyes so piercing they seemed almost unreal. His dark hair was just messy enough to keep it from looking too perfect. The smile undid me though; boyish and charming, but with a hint of something dark lurking around the edges. No innocent boy here at all; that’s a real man behind those good looks.

At first glance, he was almost pin-up pretty, but there was an edge to all that prettiness that made me suspect being dominant would be quite enjoyable for him. I could imagine him shirtless, barefoot, wearing the tattered jeans Christian Grey had worn—and nothing else—wielding a whip, while I was restrained, naked, begging him to use it on me, again...and again.

I realized I was breathing heavy, my heart pounding, my palms damp. Holy shit, just from a photo?

And no fishnet stockings or no women’s wigs in evidence in any of the photos, thank God. And below his photo was a line of green text: Member Is Online Now.

“I’ll be damned.” I went back to his message, read it again. Nothing offensive, he seemed normal so far. It took a long time for me to decide what to say. Finally I just said I was interested in chatting. I hit send.

To: Miss Venus

From: Dom Meyers

Hi Venus,

Thank you for replying back. I’m really glad you did. To be honest, I was beginning to think I’d made a mistake in joining this site. While I know BDSM is not the norm, some of the replies I’ve gotten had me a little spooked.

Tell me a little about yourself and let’s see if we have anything in common.

(And my name is Jake...)

For the first time in years, I was late to work. It had been well past two o’clock in the morning when Jake and I had finally said good-night. His final message had kept me awake for a long time after we went off line; he’d asked if I wanted to meet in person.

Leslie finally called to remind me of our lunch plans. I’d spent the morning in a daze, robotically working through my emails and other tasks, going over in my head the conversations with Jake. Leslie said to meet her in the lobby of the building; we could walk around the corner to the Italian deli for a roast beef sandwich.

“So, what’s up with you today, Abby? You’re a million miles away.” We were in line, waiting to place our order. Leslie was making eyes at the counterman, like she always did. I usually teased her, claiming she only flirted to get extra sautéed mushrooms on her sandwich for free. But not today.

“I did something last night.” I wasn’t sure how to explain this. “I signed up on a dating site.”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding. Again? Which one this time?” We were at the counter. I placed my order, paid up, grabbed my soda and moved out of the line to grab a table. I heard Leslie rattle off her order and then she was right behind me, practically stepping on my heels so she could pry the gory details out of me.

“Okay. Spill the story. What have you done?” She took a sip of her San Pellegrino.

“Promise you won’t say anything until I’m finished, okay?” Leslie nodded.

I took a deep breath. “I registered on a BDSM website. I met a man on the site and we chatted most of the night.” Leslie was watching me, her mouth open, totally shocked.

“He’s asked to meet me in person.” I hesitated. “And I think I’m going to agree to meet him.”

Leslie was silent for a long time, staring at me. “You are nuts. A BDSM site? Since when do you like pain?” She sat back suddenly. “It’s those damn books, isn’t it?”

“It’s hard to explain, I guess. There something there that intrigues me. Not so much the pain, or not only the pain. But the whole control thing, giving up control to someone else in return for pleasure. It’s confusing, but it’s something that I want to try.”

Leslie shook her head. Our sandwiches arrived and we were quiet for a minute, trying to divide and conquer the behemoth sandwiches. We chewed in silence for a while when she finally spoke.

“You know I love you, Abby, but I’ve got to say, I think you’re making a big mistake.” She looked at me, her brown eyes serious. “But I know you, when you get something stuck in your mind, there’s no talking you out of it.”

“So, now who is this mystery bondage guy? What’s he look like? Does he have a name?” Leslie finally gave in and attacked her sandwich with a fork, winding sticky globs of mozzarella cheese like spaghetti around the tines.

“Well, he’s over six feet, black hair, blue eyes....” Leslie grunted through a mouthful of sandwich. “...on the lean side. Not skinny, but wiry, maybe? Hard to tell in the picture, but not a really muscular guy. Nice looking. His name’s Jake.”

I nodded, wrapping up my sandwich in its paper. Suddenly I was nervous, my stomach fluttering. I took a deep breath.

When I got home, I immediately opened up my laptop, clicking on the website. There was a message from Jake waiting for me. I opened it gingerly, almost as if it were a ticking bomb. Somehow, safe in the darkness last night, lit only by the screen on my laptop, it had all seemed exciting and fun; in the harsh light of the fading afternoon Texas sun, it seemed silly and scary. What the hell am I doing?

It reminded me I hadn’t given him an answer to his question: if I’d like to meet in person. I took a deep breath, clicking the message icon.

To: Miss Venus

From: Dom Meyers

Hi Abby,

I enjoyed talking to you last night; I hope you did as well. I don’t want to rush you into meeting in person; I’m willing to let you make that decision. But I think we really have a connection. So, the ball is in your court (although I’m rushing the net).

Jake

I put the cursor in the reply box, watching it blink. Closing my eyes, I typed ‘Yes, I’d like to meet you too.’ I looked at the words on the screen and then, before I could change my mind, I clicked send.

My first reaction was to close the laptop and leave the room, but that was foolish. It was also foolish to watch the laptop screen, waiting for a reply. It brought back uncomfortable high school memories of sitting by the phone on a Saturday night, waiting for it to ring.

I was just pushing myself away from the desk when the soft chime of an incoming message sounded. The little red envelope was flashing. I clicked on the icon and a message from Jake opened on the screen.

I’d put a smiley face emoticon here, but I’m technically challenged when it comes to things like that. So I’ll just say that I’m very happy you’ve agreed to meet me. How about Georgia’s? If you’re free tonight, how about a drink, say, 8:00? Just casual, nothing too intense.

I knew the place; it was upscale, nice...some place I’d driven by but never been inside of. And tonight. Go...do it. Either you’ll enjoy yourself, or you’ll get it over with and be done with this.

The bedroom was a mess, clothes strewn everywhere. I’d taken a shower, tried to eat something, gave up on that and then tried to decide on something wear. ‘Something casual’ may be easy for him to say, but it sent me into a panic. I resisted the urge to call Leslie, simply because she would tell me I was crazy.

Finally I decided on a black silk tank and jacket and a pair of dark jeans. I added my favorite heeled boots, happy I could wear the four inch heels and not tower over Jake.

Hair was another issue. I brushed it out, put it up, curled it, brushed it out...and finally just let it curl around my shoulders. Jewelry was easier; black onyx bracelet and earrings, an assortment of silver chains and I called the outfit complete.

The only sure thing was the perfume; I splurge on a custom blend containing something called Dragon’s Blood. It’s exotic, indescribably floral and absolutely wonderful. I dabbed it behind my ears, at the base of my throat and my wrists...and for good measure, my cleavage. Just the scent alone makes me feel confident and beautiful. Hopefully it would have a positive effect on Jake.

As luck would have it, I was late to Georgia’s. Traffic was snarled and by the time I parked, I was fifteen minutes late and growing flustered. I pulled open the door, the sounds of the bar spilling out into the cool night air, and slipped inside. I scanned the bar, looking for a tall man in a white t-shirt, which Jake said he’d be wearing.

My heart sank. There was no one there in a white shirt. Great. I make the commitment and I miss him by minutes.

I was turning to leave when I felt a firm hand on my elbow. Startled, I turned, looking up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

His voice was low, but clear, husky without being raspy. I don’t think I’d ever heard my name sound quite so beautiful. I started up at him.

“Sorry to startle you. I met someone I knew at the other end of the bar. It took me a minute to get away.” I continued to stare, unable to speak.

Speak, Abby. Drop the deer in the headlights act. I shook myself out of my embarrassing trance.

“Hi, Jake. Sorry, but you did catch me a little off guard. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, not at all. Come on, there’s more room in the back; it’s not so crowded there. We can find a private banquette.”

Jake continued to gently hold my arm, steering me with easy grace through the crowd. The long mahogany bar was crowded with a loud mix of young business professionals, but as we made our way through the brick archway into the depths of the room, the crowd thinned out. Jake found a small banquette in the quiet back room. As I slid onto the black leather, Jake asked what I’d like to drink, disappeared towards the bar, and soon returned with a glass of Chardonnay for me and what looked like a glass of bourbon for himself.

“It’s domestic. I hope that’s okay with you?” He looked at me expectantly as he set the glass on the small table.

I took a tentative sip. I’d been far too nervous to eat dinner and now was afraid any alcohol I drank would go straight to my head. But the wine was excellent and I took a larger swallow, the soft warmth of the wine spreading through my body, quelling the butterflies in my stomach.

Georgia’s is large but still manages to seem intimate. The brick covered walls, Oriental patterned carpet and soft lighting conspire to make it cozy, even though the place was packed. We sipped our drinks in silence for a few minutes, watching the crowd as it ebbed and flowed past us. I realized there was still more rooms beyond where we sat; peering past Jake I saw through another series of arches several pool tables, each glowing green beneath its own set of lights.

Once we started talking though, the nerves faded away. Jake put me at ease almost instantly, avoiding the usual litany of first encounter questions: where are you from, what do you do, read any good books lately? He told stories, good stories. I found myself laughing more than I thought I would. Jake had a good sense of humor, gently poking fun at himself as he told stories about growing up on a ranch in Texas.

“...and so I ended up flat on my face, being dragged through a pile of horse dung, with one foot caught in the stirrup. My horse was looking down at me and I swear, if he could have spoken, he would have called me a damned fool. I never tried that again.”

I laughed. “It’s amazing you survived your childhood.” I took another sip of my wine, stealing a glance at his face in the subdued lighting of the back room. His chiseled features, in this light, were beyond handsome. Part of me was a bit intimidated; I’d never been anywhere near anyone so good looking. His lips alone were enough to make my heart beat faster. They were sensuous, full and he had an almost, but not quite, pouty lower lip. I could fully imagine being kissed by him and loving every second of it.

Rising, I excused myself to the ladies room. I really needed a moment to catch my breath and remind myself why I was here.

Once there, I looked at my face in the mirror. I was flushed, high color in my cheeks. Calm down, girl, you’ve only just me the man. And this is different. It’s not what you’re used to.

Jake was not remotely like any type of man I’d met in the past. And that was good. I wasn’t going to give my heart away again; that’s not what this was about. Leslie had read me the riot act about getting hurt...again...and I’d tried to tell her this was different. It wasn’t about a relationship, or at least not a traditional sense.

Underneath all the nerves and butterflies and flushed cheeks, I didn’t really want to be interested in Jake in a romantic way nor him in me. I don’t want hearts and flowers and long walks in the twilight, holding hands. I wanted to learn my limits, explore this deep and probably dark side of my sexuality. That Jake was drop dead gorgeous certainly didn’t hurt in any way. But I’d be damned if, when this ended, I’d cry myself to sleep over him.

And there was that yet-unspoken aspect of our relationship: the bondage or domination or whatever it was going to be. We’d skirted the edges of that topic but had yet to address it head on.

Jake was watching me as I walked back across the room to our table, and for a moment I was that same self-conscious girl I was with most men I’d met, feeling judged and found lacking. And I kicked myself for feeling that way.

But then I saw his eyes moving over my body with something closer to frank admiration, a seductive smile playing about one corner of his mouth, and not the derision I had expected. My heart did a little hand spring.

“I took the liberty of getting you another glass of Chardonnay and ordering us a plate of appetizers. I’m not sure about you, but to be honest, I was a little nervous about this meeting and I passed on eating dinner. But now I’m finding my appetite has returned, with a vengeance.”

I slid into the banquette, nodding my head. “Same here. I mean, with the nerves. And the appetite, I guess. Something to nibble on will be nice.”

The food arrived shortly and over the delicious spicy bits of food the topic turned to our relative employment. I explained where I worked and what I did and talked a bit about the clients I had. Then I asked him where he worked.

Jake looked at me, an unreadable look on his face, that enigmatic half-mile curling at the edge of his mouth.

“I didn’t think you knew who I am,” he said finally. He had told me his last name was McNamara, but there was nothing in that name that rang any bells for me.

I blinked, staring. I tried to formulate some kind of reply, but I was speechless. McNamara Oil was one of Houston’s—probably one of Texas’s—largest oil companies. My palms suddenly grew damp and my throat went dry; I was sitting in the presence of one of the wealthiest men in Texas. I took a large swallow of my fresh Chardonnay.

“I hope that’s not going to be a problem for you.” Jake was looking at me, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “It can be hard for some women, being seen with a fairly well-known figure. It can be...uncomfortable at times. I’m occasionally in the public eye. And sometimes I’m a target I guess you could say, for unwelcome attention from a certain type of woman. Being who I am and being a bachelor is hard sometimes.” He gave a rueful laugh, shaking his head. “It’s had its darker moments.”

Dark moments? As much as I wanted to pursue that remark, I let it pass. I mentally shook my head.

“No, I mean, yes...I mean...” It finally dawned on me that a fairly steady stream of people, including quite a few gorgeous young women, had waved or smiled a greeting to Jake, even in the secluded corner where we were seated. I took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that I apologize that I didn’t recognize who you are. I should have, but nothing clicked with the name.” I looked down at my disarrayed plate of food, poking a discarded shrimp tail with my fork.

“To be honest, I think I was a bit overwhelmed by all of this...” I waved my fork around “...the whole domination and bondage aspect of all of this to even make the connection.”

He still looked concerned. I pushed on with my bumbling explanation. “But no, I don’t think that it’s going to be a factor in taking this relationship wherever it’s going to go. It’s more about who you are than what you do.”

A look of relief passed across his handsome face, the frown lines fading. He grinned, a charming boyish smile that lit up his eyes, and sent a distinct wave of something warm coursing through my body.

“Good. I’m glad.” He picked through the plate of food in front of him for a moment, finally looking up at me. “If you’re ready, I think I’d like to talk about what we expect from this relationship going forward.”

I swallowed hard. This was the part of this meeting I was dreading the most. I had no frame of reference for this type of conversation, but it was the reason we were here. I nodded, not really knowing what to say, letting him take the lead.

“First I’d like to say that I find you a very attractive woman, Abby. I think we have a great chemistry already and you’re very easy to talk to. I think a large part of what’s going to make this work for us is good communication, both in and out of the bedroom.”

“Going back to who I am, I’d ask that our relationship be kept confidential.”

Something in my look must have alarmed him. He reached out, taking my hand in his. It was the first time he’d touched me intimately, with intention.

His voice was soft, intense. “I misspoke, I’m sorry. I’m not saying that I don’t want to be seen with you; I do. I’d be honored to be seen with you anywhere; I’d be the envy of every man who saw us.”

I felt myself blush to the roots of my hair. He went on, a serious cast to his voice.

“There may be times when I would want you to accompany me to public events, maybe even as part of your submissive role. I do want to show you off. But for the rest, what we do in private, stays private. There are too many people who would fall on that part of our relationship and tear us to shreds.”

He squeezed my hand again. “And I wouldn’t want that for you. I can handle myself, but it’s not something I’d expect you to handle.” He hesitated, still holding my hand.

“So, are you okay with this so far?” He was looking at me intensely. I nodded.

“Good. I’m glad.” He released my hand, his face relaxing. The absence of his touch was almost as palpable as the warmth I’d felt from him. I left my hand on the table with the hopes he’d take it in his again.

“Alright. So the basis of this relationship, for me, is exploring bondage and domination in a sexual relationship with a willing partner. I’m not really into the sadistic, masochistic part of BDSM, or at least I’m not interested in pursuing that now. But I’m very interested in the other aspects.” He took a swallow of bourbon.

“As I said, this is all new to me. I haven’t been in a place in my life before, I guess, where I felt comfortable pursuing this.” He looked at me, a calculating look in his eyes. Then he smiled.

“And you’re still on board with this? You’re very quiet. I don’t want to dominate the conversation...” He broke off, grinning at his word choice. “What’s your motivation for being here? What are you looking for in all this, Abby?”

I took a deep breath. “I guess I’m interested in the same things as you are, only from the other side.” I toyed with my wine glass, twirling the stem between my fingers. Time to be honest here, Abby.

“I haven’t had very good luck with men. Nothing ever works out. But there are things I want to explore in myself, the relationship between pain and pleasure, how I can give up control in return for something...hopefully something more, exciting? More intense? I’m not sure. I’m not a girl that enjoys either pain or not being in control. But in this case, it’s different...” My voice trailed off. “It’s complicated.”

Jake smiled. “It is, isn’t it? And I guess it’s something we’re going to learn along the way, and learn together. This is all new to me as well.” He broke off as a stunning redhead sauntered past our table, waving at him. He gestured briefly in return.

His gaze returned to me. “I was told it’s not wise for an inexperienced Dom to choose an inexperienced sub, that I’d be asking for trouble. But somehow, to me at least, it seemed like it would be, well, not so much easier but more comfortable learning and exploring with someone who was just as inexperienced in this as I am.”

“I have all the confidence in the world in my ability to run a multi-million dollar corporation. But here, I’m not quite as sure of myself.” He sat back suddenly, a startled look on his face.

“It just occurred to me. Maybe that’s part of this too, that I’m looking for an arena where I’m not master of all I survey; I’m starting from ground zero here. Perhaps I’m looking for a challenge, something else I can master.”

Jake smiled, that boyish charming smile that seems to do funny things to my stomach. “I don’t want you to think you’re a project or an experiment. I want you to enjoy this, to learn and grow with me and, hopefully, make this a mutually beneficial experience, for as long as it lasts. How does that sound?” He touched my hand briefly. “And I interrupted you. I’m sorry about that.”

“No, you’re fine. You’re much clearer on your motivations than I am.” I sat back against the leather of the banquette. “I want to challenge myself as well, see how far I’m willing to go with this. And I read some of the forum posts on the website; I should be picking an experienced Dom as well.”

Jake laughed, a wonderful sound. “I guess we’re going about this all wrong, but it seems like the right approach for me.”

The rest of the evening passed easily and very quickly. We were still talking when the bar closed. Jake walked me to my car, both of us quiet in the dark. I was shivering in the cool air but I thought it was due more to Jake than the spring air. We were at my car far too soon.

“Well, Abby...” Jake hesitated only briefly before pulling me against him, looking down at me. I could see his eyes in the semi-darkness, hooded, almost black. Gently he bent his head, his lips brushing softly against mine. I may have moaned a little then.

He slowly increased the pressure of his lips on mine, capturing my lower lip in his, caressing it briefly with the tip of his tongue. Releasing me, he looked down into my eyes. His voice was low, seductive and very arousing.

“I think we’re going to be good together, Abby. Very good together.” He pulled me back into his arms. This time his kiss was anything but gentle. His lips claimed mine fully, his tongue seeking entrance—which I granted—probing, searching, setting a fire alight in my stomach. I know I moaned then, and loudly.

When he finally released me, I staggered briefly, reluctant to open my eyes. His hands still held me and kept me from falling. I heard his soft laugh, his warm breath, still carrying the soft scent of good bourbon, washing over me.

“I’ll call you tomorrow...give us the night to think about what we’ve talked about.” He ran a finger down my cheek, catching a wind-blown strand of hair and tucking it behind my ear. He leaned forward, kissing my forehead.

He waited until I’d pulled out of the parking lot before leaving. I saw him in my rearview mirror, hand raised in a brief wave. And then he turned away, heading to his own car.

It was a long, long time before I fell asleep. My mind was whirling, much of it going over everything we’d talked about, but a large part replaying our kiss, the feeling of his lips on mine, his hands on my body. Even though his kisses had been brief, they had been powerful, but in different ways. The first hadn’t been tentative or hesitant, but soft, asking rather than demanding.

There had been a latent force in his second kiss that was hard to pinpoint, but in it I felt the potential Jake carried to dominate, to carry me along with his will. To make me submit, willingly.

It was a heady combination, the gentleness of his first kiss followed by his outright claim to my mouth with the second. I finally drifted off wondering how these opposites would play out in the bedroom.

I managed to be on time to work. Leslie had already left a voicemail message, demanding the details of my ‘date’. I had already started punching in her extension number when it occurred to me I couldn’t really tell her much of anything.

Jake had asked that we keep the dominant submissive aspect of our relationship confidential. But I had already told Leslie that I was meeting someone from a BDSM website; I just hadn’t told her who.

I hung up the phone, trying to figure out just what I would say to her when I saw her. The phone had no more than left my hand when it rang, making me jump. I snatched my hand away as if I’d been burned by the sound.

The call went to voicemail. As soon as the message light began blinking I punched in the access code and listened to the message. It was Leslie. I deleted the message, deciding I would deal with her later. There was a client meeting to prep for and as distracted as I was over Jake, I didn’t think I could afford to spend any time right now thinking about Leslie.

By the time I finished with meetings, emails and making client phone calls, it was well past my usual lunch time. There were a few more messages from Leslie, one from late morning asking if I wanted to grab lunch. With a stab of guilt, I deleted them all.

I grabbed my purse, intending to head down to the commissary in the basement of the building. The food was stale and tasteless, but I was in too much of a rush to care. And I wanted to avoid Leslie.

But best laid plans often go awry. Leslie was just coming out of the elevator on my floor. There was nowhere to hide so I put on a big smile, intercepting her before she could start in with her questions.

“I was just coming to get you. I’ve been tied up all morning with clients. You have time for lunch?”

She made a disgusted noise at me. “Yeah, I know you. You’re avoiding me. Remember, I’ve known you forever. But I’ll ride down with you to the lobby.”

We grabbed the nearest elevator. As soon as the door closed, Leslie turned to me. “Okay. Spill the details. Who is he? What’s he like? Is he cute? Did you make out?”

I scowled at her. “Leslie, really, slow down. ‘Make out?’ We’re not in high school.” I smiled at her. “But, yeah, we did kiss.” I rolled my eyes. “It was horrible. He’s got bad breath and snaggle teeth. Ick.”

She burst into a fit of giggles. “Really? No, you’re kidding. But who is he?”

Why the obsession with who he is? The elevator chimed, announcing it had reached the lobby. We stepped out, the lobby full of the crush and rush of people. I pulled her off to the side.

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone. Promise?” I looked at her, the perplexed look on her face almost comical if this wasn’t important. “Seriously, promise.”

“Promise. Is he in the witness protection program?” She was serious. I rolled my eyes again.

“No, not that.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “He’s Jake McNamara.”

Saying his name made my heart skip a beat, from excitement or guilt, I wasn’t sure. Jake, I’m sorry.

Leslie’s eyes went wide. “No! Really? Geez, Abby, nothing like hooking a big fish first time around.” And then her eyes went wider.

It seemed the lobby had gone completely silent and Jake’s name was echoing off the marble walls. I shook my head, looking around. The lobby was just as noisy and no one was even within earshot. But I pulled Leslie behind a potted plant.

“Leslie, you need keep this quiet. He didn’t want me to tell anyone about that part of our relationship.”

The skepticism on Leslie’s face was obvious. “He wants to keep your relationship a secret? Is that some bondage fetish rule? Why can’t you talk about it?”

She was standing with her hands on her hips, looking like a stern librarian and I’d been caught giggling in the stacks. I expected her to pull out a rule and wrap my knuckles.

“Not me, not the public relationship, but the BDSM part. He’s a public figure; your reaction should be enough to know why this can’t really be public knowledge.”

Leslie relaxed. “Yeah. Okay. I get that part.” She looked closely at me, skepticism replaced by concern.

“Are you sure this is good for you, Abby? Secrets and whips and handcuffs? All for a fuck or two?”

“Yes, it is...or it will be. And it’s not just for ‘a fuck or two’. I think there’s going to be a whole lot more to this.” I took her arm, pulling her out from behind the ficus tree.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch and tell you all the gory details. But only this once. No more after this.”

I was puttering around in the kitchen that evening, cleaning up after dinner, when the phone rang. Snatching it up, I glanced at the caller ID; Private Caller. Discreet guy.

“No, this is fine. I’m done with dinner and not really interested in doing the dishes.” I sat down on the couch. Something poked me in the back. Reaching behind me, I fished 50 Shades of Grey out from between the cushions. I smiled to myself as I held the book in my lap.

“I really enjoyed last night, Abby. Very much. I’m hoping we can get together fairly soon. I’m very anxious to have a session with you.” I heard him laugh softly. “I’m really interested in seeing you, period, truth be told.”

I smiled into the phone. “I’m anxious to see you...to have a session with you.”

“We talked about last night about this, Abby. But I want to make sure we still agree, before we go any further.” His voice had gone serious.

“We agreed our interaction wouldn’t stray away from the rather strict confines of the dominant and submissive relationship. Outside of that relationship, there may be times when I will ask you to accompany me to public events. In those instances, unless we’ve agreed on anything different, I would like you to be my guest, under no constraints or conditions. Do you agree with this? Is that how you’ve understood what we’re doing here?”

I hesitated. This was what I wanted, above all, to not become so entangled with a man that I got my heart broken again. Some deep part of me wanted to use Jake, to take from him what pleasure I could and explore my own desires.

A tiny part of my heart sank though, the little bit of the incurable romantic in me wanting to view Jake as my romantic partner. I held back that part, shoving it far away from what was being presented to me now.

“I do understand and I agree. And I appreciate your honesty. I think we’re totally on the same page.”

“Great. Let’s see...it’s already mid-week. Should we start on Friday? I have the sense I’d like this first session to be relaxed, no worrying about work the next day. You may need some aftercare, some recovery time, depending on what we do. I want to make sure to make you feel as safe and cared for as possible.”

My heart was racing. Aftercare? Like medical care? I think there was some research I need to do before Friday. My throat was suddenly dry, my voice coming out as a small croak. I tried again.

Jake gave me his address and private cell phone number, along with his currently blocked home phone number. I was familiar with the suburb where he lived; it was outside the center of Houston, the land of million dollar homes on huge lots. I swallowed hard.

After the phone call, my mind was numb. Was this what I wanted? Yes. And did I want this with Jake? Absolutely.

The Internet is a wonderful place; sometimes it’s also very scary. I found a good site devoted to the BDSM lifestyle. There was a great deal to take it. I did learn what aftercare entailed, relieved to learn it would be Jake’s reasonability to see that I was okay after a session, that I wouldn’t just be sent home to deal with...whatever I had to deal with.

My Internet searches led me through a wide variety of sites, the most fascinating having to do with elaborate knot tying. I tried to imagine being restrained by Jake in this way, patiently sitting while the rope was looped and tied into intricate knots and patterns. I got panicky now when I got tangled in my sweater sleeves or the bed sheets. I wasn’t sure I could tolerate being so firmly trussed, even if the knot work was so beautiful.

I left work early on Friday. I wanted to take my time getting ready for my first session with Jake. We had talked late Thursday evening. Jake had called to see how I was, telling me again how excited he was to see me the next evening.

“Don’t worry, Abby,” he said, again in that voice that made my heart flutter.

“Do you want to back out? You can if you want. You’re under no contract or obligation.” I could hear the change in his voice. “Just be honest. That’s all I ask.”

“No, Jake. I don’t want to back out. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Maybe that’s what I feel and what you’re hearing in my voice.” I realized I was had picked up the 50 Shades book again. I had been worrying the cover between my fingers; the corner was almost torn off. I tossed the book to the other end of the couch.

“We’ll start slow. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to have happen.”

“I know, Jake,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine once we start. Nerves, and anticipation are getting the better of me at the moment.”

We’d said goodnight and I’d spent another restless night, fighting with the bedcovers, dreaming of serpentine knots and snakes.

Jake had given me the passcode to the gate at the end of his driveway. I punched the number into the keypad and the tall iron gates swung open. I had clients who lived out here, but I’d never actually been to their homes.

I drove up the long sweeping drive toward the cream colored Italianate villa. In the soft spring twilight the building was colored almost the same pale pink as the inside of a shell. Jake had said to drive to the right of the main entrance and park beneath the portico. I did as instructed. Already being a good submissive, Abby. Good girl.

The huge wrought iron trimmed glass door to my left opened as I stepped out of the car and Jake walked out, bathed in the glow from the lights beneath the portico. He was dressed in jeans and a soft white shirt, open at the collar. The whole image was relaxed and sexy, including the smile on his face. That charming smile that I bet had gotten more women out of their clothes than I cared to know about.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel his body heat, smell him. Not the scent of cologne; I didn’t think he was wearing any. But it was his smell, rich and masculine, warm and inviting. I drew in a deep breath.

“Abby, welcome to my home.” He seemed to hesitate and then bent his head to kiss my lips. I must have looked puzzled when he stepped back. He smiled.

He took my hand, leading me through the door. I heard the deep clunk of the latch sliding home. For some reason, I thought of castles, knights in armor and lady’s virtues. The image slid away though as he took me through a maze of rooms, none of which seemed to have a square corner. I saw a kitchen, what looked like a butler’s pantry, a dining room, another room I couldn’t really identify, and finally to a relatively small room down a short hallway

This room was gorgeous, darkly paneled, and vaguely Gothic but extremely comfortable looking. One wall was dominated by a fireplace, a small fire crackling on the hearth. The opposite wall looked out through floor to ceiling windows on a large expanse of grass and trees, which resembled a park more than a suburban backyard.

The furnishings were all inlaid wood pieces, several chairs, a sofa and a loveseat, all covered in a masculine mix of deep reds and olive green fabric, along with an apparently lovingly worn leather chair by the fire. The carpet was an Oriental, creams, reds and greens, echoing the colors of the furniture. It looked inviting, cozy and rich all at the same time.

Jake let me take this all in, finally pulling me down to the floor in front of the fire. I realized he’d been holding my hand ever since I’d arrive. And I also saw he was pulling me down onto a thick fleecy rug.

“I want us to work on trust tonight, Abby. I need you to trust me and I need to learn to trust myself.” He waited for me to get settled, sitting directly across from me.

“I thought I would start by giving you a massage, something to allow you to get comfortable with me, allow me to explore your body in a safe way, before we move into anything too heavy.”

I nodded. He seemed to want to control this evening and I was willing to go along. But my inner voice was busy explaining to me about my insecurity at being naked, without the benefit of bed covers or sheets or darkness.

And again, my face gave me away. There’s a reason why you always lose at poker. Everything you think flashes on your face.

“What is it, Abby? You need to tell me or this isn’t going to work.” He took my hands in his. “And I want this to work, for both of us.”

“I have some insecurity about my body, about my weight. I’ve always been on the heavy side and sometime it’s made me hold back, especially in settings like this.” I looked around the room. “You know...daylight, lights...fire light.”

Jake smiled. “I thought as much.” He took one hand, holding it in his, slowly tracing his finger over my palm, between my fingers, sending goose bumps up my arm.

“That’s part of the reason for the massage.” He looked up at me, a dreamy look in his eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman, Abby. I’ve told you that and I’ll tell you again, many times. I knew from your photo that you aren’t a stick figure; you’re a real woman. You have curves, all in the right places. I don’t think when you take your clothes off I’m going to find you less attractive. I think when you take your clothes off and you’re naked here, beneath my hands, it’s going to take all my control to not just fuck the hell out of you.”

His voice had gone low, the last words practically a growl, so unexpected I recoiled as if I’d been struck. His eyes were locked with mine, fueled now with passion and heat—with naked lust.

And there was that smile, no gently charming smile now, but something edgy, almost feral. His smile alone had taken my breath away once before and it did it now, but for a different reason. This one promised something powerful, something dark, something that lit a fire in me like no smile had ever done before.

My heart was pounding and Jake knew it. His fingers were on my wrist, reading my pulse as if it were Braille. I knew what it said; he did as well.

We held each other’s gaze, stayed in that moment for a long time. The intensity held, but something unspoken had passed between us. I was ready for whatever he had planned for me, totally under his spell, in his control.

Jake reached for me, pulling me slowly toward him. The kiss he gave me was uninhibited, full of the lust and passion his eyes promised, but it was all too brief. He broke away with a harsh noise.

He sat back, watching me. I was practically panting, my body on fire. I’d have gladly let him take me there, on this rug, no questions asked.

But I saw he was struggling to get himself under control. He closed his eyes briefly, drawing a deep breath, holding it for a moment before blowing it out. When he opened them, the fire and passion was still there, but I saw restraint as well. As much as I wanted him, then and there, I knew I needed to respect his decision as how to move forward.

“There’s a bathroom across the hall where you can change. There’s a robe you can wear. I’d like you to tie your hair back for me, so it won’t get in the way.”

He stood gracefully, pulling me up from the rug. His face was still flushed but something in his eyes had changed; some kind of restraint was in place. I nodded and made my way on shaky legs out of the room.

Once in the bathroom, I leaned back against the door. I took a deep, shuddering breath. I wasn’t really sure what had just happened, but it had hit me deeply. There was much more going on here than just a man who wanted to tie me up and spank me. I wasn’t sure if that restraint I saw in his eyes was in place to protect me, or to protect himself.

The robe was a plush affair, generous and cozy. I found an assortment of hair ties on the counter, chose a pretty blue ribbon and managed to corral my hair. Before leaving, I took a look around the bathroom. It boasted a full steam shower and jetted tub, all covered in creamy marble. It also seemed to have no square corners. Each angle was sharp, each wall at an odd angle to its neighbor. Again the image of a castle rose up. Maybe there’s a secret tower in the center of the house. I shook my head, laughing at myself.

While I was gone, the room had been transformed. Jake had turned down the lights and lit dozens of fat white candles. It was completely dark outside now and the candle light was reflected in the beveled edges of the floor to ceiling windows.

Jake was by the fire, adding another log. He straightened and turned toward me when he heard the click of the door, walking toward me in the softly lit room. He’d taken off his shirt and shoes and I let my eyes slide over his chest, the dark nipples against his tawny skin. I resisted the urge to lick my lips.

His jeans hung low on his narrow hips, revealing that delicious landscape below his navel, something that always makes me weak in the knees. I gave in and ran my tongue over my lips.

He took me gently by the hand, guiding me toward the fireplace. The firelight cast a glow over the rug and I had a fleeting image of myself lying naked, my skin burnished to a golden hue by the fire. And I was amazed to find that image didn’t really bother me in the least.

“Here, let me take this.” Jake undid the tie of the robe and I turned as he slid the garment down my arms. I hesitated just a moment before turning to face him.

His eyes moved slowly over my body, taking in everything, lingering here and there, finally traveling back to meet my eyes. All I saw reflected there was admiration and desire. I smiled, holding his gaze. He nodded and smiled back.

“You are beautiful, Abby. And I think you know that now.” He reached out, softly stroking my cheek. “But I’ll continue telling you that anyway, because I enjoy saying those words, and I think you should hear them often.”

He helped me down to the floor, kneeling beside me. “On your stomach, please. Arms down at your sides.”

There was a low table set near the end of the rug. A small bowl of steaming water held a bottle and several small neatly folded white towels lay beside it. Jake reached for the bottle, wiping the water off with a towel. He disappeared from my view.

The rug was wonderfully soft, thick and springy. I could sense the heat of the fire brushing against one side of my body; the other side was deliciously cool in contrast. I sighed, closing my eyes, letting my body sink into the embrace of the rug. The flickers of candle light made patterns on the inside of my eyelids. Even without the massage... But I was eagerly anticipating the feel of Jake’s hands on my body.

“I want you to relax, let me do the work here. Nothing is required of you at the moment other than to let me do this. I want you to trust me, to learn the feel of my hands on your body. There are no expectations for either of us tonight; it takes us wherever it will. I just want us to learn to be comfortable with each other.”

His voice was hypnotic, the cadence soothing. I could feel him moving beside me and then the air was filled with the most wonderful scent. I breathed deeply and then my eyes flew open. I twisted my head to look back at him. The corners of his mouth twitched in a hint of a smile.

“Yes, it’s scented with Dragon’s Blood oil. I noticed you wore it the other night. I thought it might relax you, make you comfortable.” I returned his smile, closing my eyes, resting my head on the rug.

“Ready?” His voice was very close to my ear, almost a whisper. I nodded my head.

His hands were slippery and warm as he made several sweeping passes across my upper back with the palms of his hands, before his fingers beginning to massage my shoulders. I shouldn’t have been surprised by the strength in his hands, but it took me by surprise. I shifted beneath his touch. Immediately the pressure lessened.

“Let me know if anything hurts. This isn’t a session—there’s no domination or bondage tonight—and we don’t need a safe word here. If something is uncomfortable, just say so.”

His fingers dug deep into the tense muscles at the base of my neck, across my shoulders, making me exhale with release as he hit those twin spots on my shoulder blades that were always knotted.

Slowly he massaged the tension from my upper back. He moved to my feet and I thought I was truly in heaven. I moaned softly as he firmly kneaded the soles, working each toe briefly.

With long strokes he began working his way up the calves of my legs, slowly stroking the skin from the ankle to the knee. Until now, the unknotting of my muscles, the lessening of tension, had been the main sensation I’d felt. But as he touched the tender skin of my inner knee, other parts of my body began responding. I felt my legs relax, realizing I’d been holding them together.

So far all I’d felt were Jake’s hands on my body. But as he moved to my arms, I felt his leg brush against my body. For some reason, that small touch of rough denim against my skin brought a wave of emotions and sensations cascading through me.

This was a real man here, his hands all over my naked body, by his own admission very much attracted to me. And even though there were no overt expectations here, the subtle—or not so subtle—under current was pure lust. And not just Jake’s lust, but mine as well. My breath caught in my throat; I wanted him as much as he wanted me.

Jake must have sensed a change; he’d moved to my arms and even though he was just as thorough in working his way from my hands to my shoulders, I sensed an urgency to his movements that was absent earlier.

Moving away from me for a moment, his hands returned to my legs, long strokes working up the outside of my thighs, moving to the inside. With soft pressure, he traced a line from the inside of my knee up the tender skin of my inner thigh, over and over, unlocking some formerly unknown erogenous zone. I felt a swift contraction of the muscles deep in my body; my hips jerked forward, my hips pressing into the rug with a most un-lady like grunt.

There as a breathless moment when I wondered just how intimate this massage was going to be as his hands moved higher, but he only brushed them quickly over my ass as they circled up to my lower back.

For a brief moment, his hands left my body completely. Then I felt the roughness of denim on my outer thighs as he apparently was straddling my legs, leaning forward to massage my lower back.

His hands spanned my waist, thumbs digging into my muscles. I let out an audible sigh as his thumbs found some magic spot buried there, sending another hard jolt to somewhere deep inside me.

For a long moment we stayed like this, his thumbs moving in ever-widening circles. Every breath I exhaled ended in a sigh, my hips now rhythmically pressing into the rug.

Jake shifted back, denim sliding along my thighs. His hands moved over my ass, this time with purpose, pressing hard, kneading my flesh. His thumbs ran along the crease at the tops of my thighs, up my ass, pulling my cheeks apart, sliding up the cleft, sweeping down to start over. With each pass, his fingers slid further between my legs, finally brushing against the soft outer lips of my pussy. I shuddered at his touch, my breathing shallow, waiting for—longing for—the next pass of his hands over my ass.

Above me I could hear Jake’s breath coming in slightly raspy gasps. His legs moved against mine, sliding down, his hands leaving my body. I resisted the urge to beg for more.

Suddenly I felt the heat of his body above mine as he pressed his chest against my back. I did open my eyes, saw his hand on the rug next to my shoulder. I stopped breathing; the nearness of him was intoxicating.

Slowly...so very slowly, he rocked back and forth, his naked chest rubbing lightly against my back, his breath in my ear as he held his head just above mine. I wanted to squirm but his legs kept mine pinned together.

He shifted slightly and I felt the rough touch of denim on my ass. And beneath the feeling of the material was the heat and hardness of his cock, obviously very erect. He began slowly rubbed himself against my ass. I did squirm then, but the pressure of his legs on mine increased, holding me tight.

“Shh...” I felt more than heard him speak. “Lay still.” The pressure of his body on my ass increased as he pressed against me, forcing my cheeks apart.

My hips were moving on their own, rising and falling in time with Jake’s body. That bit of squirming he didn’t seem to mind. His breath was growing harsh in my ear when he finally pulled away, sitting back, the subtle weight of his body on my legs, my back suddenly chilly in the absence of his warmth, even in with the heat of the fire and the flush of my arousal.

I rose up on my elbows, shifting on the rug, lying on my back for Jake, looking up at him. He was still straddling my lower legs, his spread wide, allowing me to roll over. My eyes strayed down his chest to his crotch, even though I willed them to stay focused somewhere else.

But the sight of his erection straining against the front of his jeans was almost too much for me. I watched as his hands moved to the buttons on his fly, undoing the top three, pulling the denim away from his body.

The head of his was cock clearly visible, along with a couple inches of his thick shaft. There was a corresponding wave—more like a physical thump—deep within my body. I let out an involuntary noise, halfway between a gasp and a moan.

I met his gaze. He eyes were blazing, the wild and barely controlled Jake clearly visible. This time I gasped loudly.

The change was subtle but the wildness receded, again, but barely. I held my breath. The overwhelming sensation was of being in the presence of a wild animal: if I moved, or breathed, he would bolt and I’d lose him. Or, he’d attacked and I’d be at his mercy.

Jake reached for the bottle of massage oil, squirting a stream into the palm of his hand, rubbing them together. With measured strokes, he worked his way up my legs, gently spreading them, tracing the same triangle on my inner thighs he had earlier. My body responded on its own, my thighs tensing and relaxing beneath his hands.

He moved up, kneeling between my knees, his own legs spread, holding my legs apart, gently but firmly restraining me. If this is dominance, I’m on board.

In a swift and graceful motion, he leaned forward, his hands sweeping lightly over my breasts, down my stomach, over my pubic bone and down my thighs. He repeated this over and over, the feather-light sensation of his fingers sliding over my skin driving me slightly wild.

His eyes were focused on my body, watching his hands as they slid over my skin. I let my gaze drift over his shoulders, back down to his hard cock. It was visible when he straightened, hidden by his body when he leaned forward. But I could sense the nearness of it, the heat from his body as he held himself above me.

He arched his back as he leaned forward, his exposed cock coming closer and closer to touching the apex my thighs. As he pulled away, he rolled his hips forward, slowly thrusting his cock upward, exhaling through his mouth, the sound changing from a sigh to a softly drawn out groan.

My hips were still moving on their own, rolling slowly up and back in time to Jake’s shifting movement over my body and it brought us in contact, the head of his cock grazing my lower stomach. Jake hesitated briefly, his eyes closing as he slid his cock along my stomach. He slowly pulled back, resting his hands on the rug beside my arms, his body again held above me.

Jake stopped, his cock resting just above the tops of my thighs. Slowly he began thrusting forward, the oil between us coating his cock, the head rubbing against my skin. I watched his face, his eyes closed, his lips parted.

The head of his cock slipped lower, catching on my body, sliding against my clit. I jerked involuntarily, a small cry escaping my lips.

Jake opened his eyes, looking down at me. Wordlessly he straightened, his fingers undoing the finally buttons of his jeans, pushing them down his narrow hips.

And then he was between my legs, his elbows resting on the rug, my face in his hands. I spread my legs further, sliding them up his waist, feeling weightless, my skin slick with the oil, its fragrance filling the air.

“Now, please, Jake.” My voice was low but startlingly clear in the quiet room.

Wordlessly he shifted, the head of his cock sliding between my legs, brushing against my clit again and then sliding into me. I exhaled, a long sigh of release, of relief, rolling my hips up to meet his initial thrust.

Jake held himself inside me, looking down into my eyes. I held his gaze, the firelight dancing over his chiseled features, my hands on his chest.

“Abby...” His voice was a low whisper, my name more a sigh of breath than a word. He began moving, slowly, pulling his cock back, sliding it back inside me with more force each time, his eyes locked with mine, so very blue and so very intense, but at the moment almost unreadable.

We stayed with this dance for a long time, slowly savoring the intense heat that had built during the massage, staying on that plateau of pleasure for what seemed an eternity.

But our bodies wanted more and gradually Jake began thrusting with more purpose. More noises were added to each thrust, low grunts and moans from Jake, higher pitched sounds from me.

We reached the point of no return fairly quickly then, each of us now intent on the impending release of our climax. I was there first, my body arching beneath Jake, closing my eyes as I threw my head back, my sharp cries growing louder as my body shook with the force of my orgasm. Muscles contracted all over my body, my hips flexing, rising off the rug, grinding up against his body.

I could feel myself squeezing Jake’s cock, my body molding to the contours of him inside me. Everything else diminished except for the powerful sensation of him thrusting hard into me, and my body’s reply, waves washing through me.

I let myself come back, to focus again on Jake. I opened my eyes, watching his face as his own orgasm swelled and peaked.

His breath was ragged in his throat, his eyes closed. The steady thrusting of his cock into me was replaced by a series of jabs, erratic and sharp, short spaces of time where he held himself deep inside, completely still. Time seemed suspended and I realized I was holding my breath in anticipation.

With an explosive thrust and a loud hoarse cry, Jake came, every muscle taut. I was instantly filled with an amazing heat, his cock moving in a series of jerks and shudders that I knew Jake had no control over. I spread my legs as far as I could, rolling my hips up, allowing him to flex his hips, to force himself as far as he could into my body.

With one last grunt and fierce thrust into me, Jake began to relax, slowly, limb by limb. He rested his head on my shoulder, breathing very hard against my neck. I ran my hands over his shoulders and back, the slickness of his sweat now mingled with the oil from my bodies.

Without lifting his head, he shifted his hips, pulling his cock out of me, letting it rest on the inside of my thigh. I cradled his head against my shoulder as he brought one hand up to gently stroke the round fullness of one breast.

After a long time he rose on one elbow, looking down at me, tracing a forefinger along my cheek.

“Abby...that was more intense than I could have imagined.” He leaned down, slowly brushing my lips with his.

I looked up at him in the fading light of the fire. “Do you need aftercare?”

He laughed, a rich sound. “I should think so, but aftercare would only get us back to this...” He looked down at our intertwined bodies.

He held my gaze for a moment. “You know, this is not how it’s always going to be.” His voice was serious even though his lips carried a hint of a smile.

“This wasn’t a session, in the sense of what I want to explore.” He rolled onto his back, resting his hands on his chest, not touching me.

“This can’t become a romantic relationship. We’ve agreed. And this may have crossed a line.” He turned on his side, looking at me, that unreadable look in his eyes.

I turned to face him. “Yes, Jake. I’m clear on this. We agreed and that’s what I want as well.”

“Good.” He rolled onto his back again and was quiet for a long time. I thought he’d fallen asleep. When he spoke his voice was almost a whisper. “It’s important that you remember that.”

After I’d gotten dressed—and after taking Jake’s generous offer of a shower in the luxurious guest bathroom—I met him back in across the hall.

“What exactly is this room?” He’d poured me a glass of Chardonnay and I was curled up on the sofa, bare feet tucked beneath me, enjoying the fire, which Jake had brought back to life. He’d changed into a soft gray sweater and black jeans, apparently having had a shower of his own. His dark hair was still damp, curling just a bit around the nape of his neck.

He looked relaxed and calm...and incredibly sexy...holding a cut glass tumbler of bourbon, sitting next to me on the couch. Turning to me, he draped one arm across the back, his fingers idly brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt a tingle where his fingers touched my skin and as much as I liked the feeling, I drew back, reaching for my Chardonnay, settling back against the cushions, just out of his reach.

Jake was looking around the room. “It was originally a library for this wing. There’s a guest room with an en-suite bathroom; the bath across the hall and then this room. It’s meant to be a self-contained long-term guest suite. But I had the bookshelves removed. I use it now as place to enjoy the evenings, with a good book and a glass of bourbon. But I keep my books in the main library.”

He looked at me, tilting his head. “Would you like to see more? I can give you the grand tour.” He set his glass on the table in front of the couch, holding out a hand to me. I took it and let him lead me out of the library.

The house was massive, stretching off in all directions from a central core of open rooms that included main entrance, a formal dining room, the aforementioned library and a grand sweeping wrought iron stairway that curved along one wall to a second floor.

Jake took me up the stairs, our bare feet making pleasant noises on the cool marble, down several halls with twists and turns, to a massive dark wood door set into what looked like a gothic arch. I felt like I was heading toward the dungeon of some mythical creature. Or the attic room where Mrs. Rothschild had been kept, in Wuthering Heights.

Jake pushed the door open, revealing a large space, with windows on all sides. There were heavy drapes, currently pushed to the side of each window. Otherwise, the room was relatively bare, save a scattering of Oriental rugs on the hardwood floor, and the odd small table or chair.

I turned to Jake. “And this is?” I had a suspicion, but I wanted to hear him say the words.

“This is a room above the garage wing and part of another guest apartment. Here, look.” He pulled me toward one of the full length windows. I looked down on the portico roof below, the nose of my car just visible. I looked across to the rest of the house, dark against the starlit sky, only the lights from the front of the house visible and a smattering of lights in the back yard.

“It’s reachable from either the house or the guest apartment.” Jake turned to me, a thoughtful look on his face.

“I’m considering using this for our sessions.” He looked around. “It’s large, offers privacy, it’s separate from the main house...” His voice trailed off.

I walked around the room. “I’m not really sure what a space like this should be like.” I turned to face him. “For some reason I thought this would all happen in your bedroom.”

Jake jerked back in surprise, but quickly recovered. “Oh, well...no. I want to keep this part of my life separate from...whatever happens in my bedroom.” He took a step toward me.

“It’s part of keeping this relationship clear, not muddying the waters. I’d hate for you to get the wrong impression, to feel this was going in a different direction.” He looked around the space.

“Here, what happens here won’t cross over into any other aspect of my life.” He looked back at me, his eyes opaque and unreadable. “Or yours.”

I nodded my head. “That makes sense. And I agree. Did you have any idea what to put in here? I’m not sure if they’re called supplies or instruments or paraphernalia, but do you have any?”

He smiled. “Like I said, this is my first real attempt at this. I have a small collection in the house. There are some things I need moved in here from storage. To be honest, I really wasn’t anticipating finding someone—finding you—quite so quickly.”

Jake had asked that I come back on Sunday afternoon. He wanted a day to get the room ready. So I had Saturday to myself, or so I thought.

Leslie called, looking for details. I’d been purposely evasive about what had been planned with Jake, but since the cat was out of the bag and she knew where I was going, there was no way to keep anything a secret from her now.

We’d met for lunch at a little sushi place close to my apartment. I was still feeling the after effects of my evening with Jake. My body was relaxed, from both the massage and the sex. I’d played the whole thing over in my mind endless times. There were things happening that I didn’t really understand but I chalked that up to the newness—and the unconventionality—of our relationship.

“So, can you tell me anything or did he make you sign a blood oath of secrecy?” We’d just gotten seated and given our order to the smiling waiter when Leslie started in with the questions.

“No blood oath.” I held up my wrists. “No knife cuts, no secret oaths under the dark of the moon.”

Leslie took a sip of her tea. “Okay. Funny. So what did happen? Did he tie you up? Was it fun? Did it hurt?”

I realized I was going to have to rein Leslie in pretty quickly. “Leslie, there’s not that much I’m going to tell you, or can tell you. Sorry if that’s going to hurt your feelings, but this is different...this relationship is different.” I took a drink of my own tea, pungent and aromatic.

“There’s a lot of it I don’t think I want to talk about, yet.” I saw the confusion...and hurt in her eyes.

I sighed...I’ve been doing that a lot since I’d started this whole thing. I placed my hand on top of hers. “It’s not that, Leslie. This is complicated and I can’t even explain half the stuff I’m feeling. And it’s only been one evening...it’s only going to get more complex, I think, rather than less.”

She nodded her head. “Okay. Fine. Deny me the whole story.” She leaned close. “But can you give me some juicy detail? Anything? It’s been a long time since I’ve had a date...I could use a little bit excitement, even from someone else’s sex life, you know?”

I laughed. “Alright. Just the parts where we fucked then.” I sat back, enjoying the momentary look of shock on her face. Then she broke into giggles.

After lunch...after recounting what I could of my evening with Jake, enough juicy details to make Leslie happy...I went home, did domestic things, tried to read but my mind was distracted. I wondered what Jake was doing, was he working on the room above portico? I tried to imagine him in that huge house all alone. Did he have a housekeeper, a cook? Staff?

Finally I just gave up. This is how you get in trouble with men...you obsess over them. Jake was not someone I wanted to obsess over, not someone I wanted to let occupy my thoughts when I wasn’t with him.

My heart did that little flip-flop thing; there was no denying his voice did things to me. I brushed it aside and took a deep breath.

“I’m good, Jake. How are you? How’s the room...or is it called something else?”

There was a soft laugh. “Sometimes it’s called a dungeon, but I’m not really comfortable with that word. Plus it’s on the second floor. It’s more of a tower than anything.”

The castle image flashed in my mind again. “I think the tower is better than a dungeon. It sounds a little less damp and dreary, more like princesses and knights in shining armor.”

I heard Jake exhale on the other end of the line. “I want you to come tomorrow for a session.” His voice had changed, had that edge to it; Jake the dominant had taken over the conversation.

“You’ll need to wear clothes that are easy to remove. Nothing fancy. Please be showered, your hair tied back. Eat something before the session. I don’t want you to get hungry if this runs long and I don’t want you to feel faint or weak.”

“I know this seems like a set of rules, but I want you to be comfortable and safe. I have no idea where this is going to go. This may sound like over-kill, but I’d rather this be well thought out ahead of time.”

There was a beat of silence. “Abby, I need things to be like this...we need things to be like this. Trust me.”

Now it was my turn to be silent. “You’re right. It’s fine. It’s new for me, for both of us.”

“Yes, it is.” His voice softened. “It’s all new, Abby. But you’re the one I want to explore this with, and I want to be the one to help you explore your limits. I still think we’re going to be good for each other. We just need to go slow, keep talking and relax.”

We ended the call. I sat down on the couch, going over our conversation, images of last night rising up in my mind; Jake’s hands on my body, the first glimpse of his cock as he’d unbuttoned his jeans, displaying himself for me.

I settled back, looking out the windows on the skyline of Houston. Something poked me in the thigh. Reaching down, I fished a book out of the couch; 50 Shades.

“I really need to put you on a bookshelf, you know?” The book didn’t reply, but my cat did, jumping up, seeking attention. I scratched his head, thinking about castles and princesses in distress and knights in shining armor coming to the rescue.

We were in the tower room, now transformed into Jake’s version of a session room. There was a large bed at one end of the room, set away from one wall, a lovely Jacobean monstrosity, carved and ancient looking, currently sporting a fitted black sheet, but no pillows. There was a large cabinet, which matched the bed, set between two windows, which matched the bed. The heavy deep garnet-colored curtains were pulled shut. The room was lit by fixtures set between the windows, along with some indirect lighting in the ceiling. The overall effect really was of a tower room in a castle. And it’s the only room so far that’s actually square.

True to his word, this whole event was removed from his “other” life. I’d been instructed to park beneath the portico again, but today Jake had greeted me from the other side of the drive, through a large door set beneath the tower room. He’d taken me up a narrow stair to a separate entrance from the big door we’d used on Friday. He pointed out a small bathroom I could use, complete with a robe I could wear.

I nodded my head. “Yes. If I feel uncomfortable or...unsafe, I say that word. I don’t say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or anything else. I say whatever word we’ve decided on.” My mind kept getting hung up on the word unsafe.

He smiled. “Yes. The word is usually something totally unrelated to anything we’re doing, so there’s no confusion. Your safe word is ‘pineapple’.

“Are you ready to start, Abby? From this point on, you don’t ask questions. We...I don’t stop, unless you use the safe word.” His eyes locked with mine. “Do you understand?”

With a detached sense of calm, I began following Jake’s directions. I’d arrived in jeans and a t-shirt, for a time feeling woefully underdress for a date. But this isn’t a date, remember that.

In the bathroom, I removed my shirt and bra, sliding my jeans off, hanging them on hooks in the bathroom. I’d left my panties at home, after a long debate, finally deciding they’d just be something I’d probably lose. I slipped into the robe, feeling an odd sort of comfort in the familiar garment.

Jake was dressed in just a pair of loose gray cotton sweats, again hanging low on his narrow hips, clearly outlining the taut curves of his ass. Those sweats left little to the imagination and I wondered how I was supposed to go through a session of any kind, knowing what he possessed, having it covered by only a thin layer of cotton.

“You can hang the robe on the back of the door,” he said over his shoulder. I slid the robe off my body, hanging it on a hook.

He was standing at the cabinet, the doors now open, the only sounds the soft clink of something metal, the whisper of his bare feet over the rugs. I stood silently, waiting for his next direction.

He turned, saw me, and drew in a sharp breath. His eyes flicked over my body, then traveled up to meet mine. For an instant, that look I’d come to recognize as lust was there, unguarded and intense. It made my heart thump and my skin flush, set off a low jolt deep inside me.

And there was something else, that unreadable look I’d seen before, fleeting, something he fought hard now to get under control. In that brief instant, I got a glimpse somewhere deep inside Jake, an instant of naked, vulnerable emotion; a scary emotion. It was something almost like love. You’re projecting, girl. Back it up here.

But then he was walking toward me, a pair of silver handcuffs in his hands, long silver chains brushing against his long legs, his eyes hooded, the look gone.

He stopped in front of me. I could smell his scent; clean skin and beneath that, something rich and masculine.

“Come with me.” He walked to the bed, snapping the cuffs to the posts at the foot of the bed, the chains coiled like silver snakes.

I climbed up on the bed. The mattress was on the hard side, but not uncomfortable, the sheet stretched taut, soft and silky on my skin. Must be high thread count. I mentally shook my head at the errant thought.

Jake held up one cuff, the metal catching the light. “One cuff is attached to each corner of the bed. The other end will be attached to your ankles. Your wrists will be held together above your head by a single set of cuffs.” He pulled one cuff toward my foot, the silver chain spiraling out across the sheet, whispers of sound as the links clicked together.

The cold metal snapped around my left ankle. I flinched. Jake raised his eyes to mine, an unspoken question there. I nodded my head.

“I’m fine.” My heart was fluttering in an unexpected, but not totally unwelcomed, way. I licked my lips. “Go ahead.”

Jake attached the other cuff to my right ankle, had me lay flat on my back and gently raise my arms over my head, fastening the cold metal around each wrist. Somewhere behind me I heard the sound of chain sliding against metal and then my arms were pulled above my head.

I gave an experimental tug against the restraints at my head; I was held fast. My ankle restraints gave me enough freedom to pull my knees up slightly. There was a moment of breathless panic, complete and total; I was alone, naked and chained to a bed in a stranger’s house.

Jake came back into my field of vision, and the panic faded. He stood by the side of the bed, looking down in a rather detached way, I thought. I turned my head; my eyes sliding down his smooth naked chest, past his taut navel, lower still. I saw that not all of him was viewing this in such a dispassionate manner.

There was an unmistakable, and quite arousing, bulge at the apex of his thighs, his growing erection pushing easily against the thin material of his sweats, lifting the fabric out in front of his body. I wondered how I was going to handle whatever he was going to do to me while watching his physical reactions. Just seeing his cloth-covered erection had started a tingle in my body; tingle wasn’t the right word. It was an all-out throbbing between my legs.

Jake looked down at me, a hint of smile playing about the corners of his mouth, almost cruel looking. As if reading my mind, he pulled a piece of black silk out of his pocket.

I raised my head from the mattress and with infinite care Jake blindfolded me. I felt his fingers brush my temples as my world went dark. I sensed his body over mine, his heat and scent very close for a moment. There was a brief tug and the blindfold was snugged over my eyes.

Time seemed to spin out forever as I lay there, briefly interested in the lights behind my eyes. But my ears quickly became attuned to every sound in the room. It was very quiet, almost too quiet. The panic tried to push its way back; logic said I had not heard the door open or close, so Jake was still in the room. Was he watching me? Was he getting ready to do something?

My breath was coming in short gasps, my heart beating fast. I was on the verge of calling his name when I felt movement and a soft rush of cool air against my skin, sliding down my right side. I turned my head, breathing deeply, sniffing the air, trying to catch Jake’s scent.

There was a brief noise at the foot of the bed and then a subtle pressure on the mattress. The pressure increased; Jake must have climbed on the bed between my feet. My legs tensed; I tried to pull away and move toward him at the same time. I wanted something to happen but I was afraid of what that something might be.

Suddenly there was a light touch along the inside of my inner thigh, along the same area that Jake had touched with his hands before, that same erogenous zone I never knew existed until then. I jerked even though the touch was so soft I thought I might have imagined it. But it returned, this time on the other leg, something brushing against my skin, sending shivers through my body.

The stroking continued, increasing in intensity and speed, moving higher up my thighs. The muscles in my legs were tensing and relaxing, moving in concert with the stroking of the feather, my hips flexing upward with each stroke. I could feel arousal growing between my legs, a subtle throbbing deep inside.

Suddenly the stroking stopped. My legs kept moving for a moment, seeking contact with something I couldn’t see. There was a long pause, then movement, a shifting of weight between my legs and the right side of the mattress depressed slightly.

A slight breeze floated over my skin and then there were quick flicks of something across the nipple of one breast. I yelped in surprise as I felt that nipple contract and harden, immediately sensitive. The flicking then moved to the other nipple, with the same result. I could feel Jake’s warm breath on my arms as he moved between my breasts for several minutes, teasing each nipple repeatedly.

I held my breath, waiting, trying to imagine where he’d touch me again. I felt warmth on my breasts and then Jake’s lips were on my nipple, the flick of the feather replaced by the flick of his warm tongue. I cried out, lifting my head from the mattress, straining against my chains as he circled my hard nipple with his tongue.

He moved to the other nipple and I felt a wave of warmth flood through me, a curious feeling of tensing up and letting go at the same time.

This particular delicious torture went on for many minutes as he moved between my nipples, never doing more than flicking his tongue across them. I was pulling against my chains now in earnest, arching my back, seeking more contact with his mouth.

I cried out in despair, my body thrumming, suspended, aching for more. The cool air on my wet nipples made them contract painfully and I was helpless to keep quiet, driven by desire to speak.

I thought I heard a sharp intake of breath, but I couldn’t be sure. It was a long time before I felt any movement on the bed, just a subtle shifting of weight.

When the feather finally came back it moved across my upper thighs, lightly stroking from hip to hip. It circled down between my legs, brushing the crease along my inner thigh, sliding dangerously close to my clit and then skittering away. It reappeared where it started, repeating this path, over and over.

My hips were writhing on the bed now, rising up, playing tag with the feather. It circled back between my legs once again, but this time it stayed, tracing the outer edges of my pussy, flicking over my clit.

I was moaning now, my body craving more contact. The feather continued for a moment, flicking back and forth, tickling and teasing.

The shifting between my legs was more pronounced now. I felt Jake’s warm breath on my legs and the first flick of his tongue against my clit sent a shudder coursing through my body. Finally, oh, god...finally.

He played his tongue in lazy circles over my clit before sliding it down my pussy, tracing the edges, working back up to circle around my clit again.

My body was building to its peak and I was rising on a current of sensations, spiraling upward, my hips pumping rhythmically as Jake did his magic with his tongue. I was crying out, pulling against my chains, poised on the edge of release.

“No!” There was no shifting of weight on the bed this time, just a steady exhalation of warm breath against my inner thigh. In frustration I twisted on the bed, willing myself to let go. But I couldn’t. My body was aching for release but I had no way of achieving it.

The room was quiet for a long time. I knew where Jake was but there was nothing I could do, except beg.

He was back, his tongue probing now, insistent, flattened against my clit, lapping at me before moving lower, working between the folds of my pussy, sliding inside me. Almost instantly I was twisting on the bed, pulling against my chains, moaning like a wanton creature beneath the onslaught of his tongue and mouth.

Because now, besides licking me, Jake had begun sucking my clit, pulling it into his mouth, tugging it briefly before releasing it.

I was hanging over the edge cliff again, relief and release so close I could taste them when Jake pulled away with a harsh noise, almost as painful sounding as my cry.

“Damn you!” I pulled against my chains in vain. “Fuck you, Jake. Stop doing this!”

There was silence and no movement from Jake for a long time. I was breathing hard, my head lifted from the mattress, tugging at my wrist chain, making it clank against something metal behind me.

Between my legs I finally heard noises, the soft sound of cloth moving and harsh breathing. Then there was weight on the mattress near my head and Jake’s warmth was against my body. I felt his legs push against my inner thighs and I suddenly knew where he was, what he was going to do.

And then he was there, his body pressed against mine, his cock sliding up the inside of my thigh. With one hard thrust he entered me, hard enough to push me up the bed until the chains on my ankles stopped me.

Our cries mingled then, his a long desperate moan, mine a cry of triumph. I was powerless to move beneath him, praying he wouldn’t take this chance of release away from me.

But I knew once he began thrusting into me that there was no turning back for him. He buried his head against my shoulder, each thrust accompanied by that same sound, a combination of need and desire.

There was no gentle building of arousal, no infinite time spent on a plateau of pleasure, only primal fucking. With no other physical outlet for what I felt, I bit down on Jake’s shoulder. I expected him to cry out or pull away, but he didn’t. He only said one word:

With a strangled cry, Jake bucked hard into me, grinding his body against mine. It was the contact my body sought and I cried out, pulling hard against my wrist restraints, my body contracting in the center. The orgasm that swept through me seemed to go on for whole minutes. I shuddered and twisted beneath his weight, crying out, tears streaming down my face.

Jake had held himself still inside me, either allowing me to finally experience my release or trying to hold back his. I really didn’t care at that point. But as my body began to relax, he began to thrust hard, with those same quick jabs, erratic and sharp. I felt the peculiar sensation of his cock growing even harder as he reached his orgasm.

And then he was coming, his body completely overtaken by his release. He wrapped his arms around my body, not so much in passion, but I think to keep hold of something solid.

After a long time his body stopped shaking, his muscles relaxing. I felt his cock growing soft, but he stayed inside me, kept his arms around me, his face buried in my neck.

He lifted his head from my shoulder, unwrapped one arm from my body. I felt his fingers pulling the blindfold up over my face. He tossed it off the side of the bed.

I blinked, even though the light in the room was dim. Jake pulled away from me, sitting up and groping for his sweat pants, which were in a heap at the end of the bed. He fished in the pocket, finding a small silver key.

He undid the cuffs at my wrists and then unlocked my ankles. I sat up, looking at Jake as he sat on the edge of the bed. He turned to me.

“Are you okay? How are your wrists?” He took my hands, gently chaffing my wrists. There were red marks around them. I was surprised how deep the marks were, how painful they were. The marks on my ankles weren’t as red or deep.

I looked up at him; suddenly I was shaking uncontrollably. Jake got off the bed and pulled open a drawer in the large cupboard, coming back with a soft blanket.

He wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, climbing up on the bed and leaning back against the head of the bed.

“Come here.” He pulled me up against him, wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, my body comforted by the warmth but still trembling.

We were quiet for a long time, Jake softly stroking my hair. “Do you want to talk about how you feel now, Abby. I want to...I’d like to know what you felt, how this experience was for you.” He was stroking my hair. I’d more or less stopped shivering but I was quiet, trying to put into words the whole experience.

“It wasn’t what I thought it would be. I guess I really don’t know what I thought it would be like, but I didn’t think I would have been so frustrated or so mad at you. I couldn’t...or didn’t want to...let you have control. I wanted to have some control myself.”

“It’s not easy being a submissive. But you can’t speak to me, other than to say the safe word. Your outburst wasn’t appropriate as a submissive, Abby. I should have administered some kind of punishment.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll talk about that before our next session; we can negotiate what happens if you step outside the protocol that we agreed on.”

I frowned: he was right but I didn’t want to admit it, at least not at that moment.

He was quiet for a time before speaking in a low growl. “Did you enjoy any of it?”

Did I? I thought about how I felt. My orgasm had been the most intense I’d ever experienced. “Yes, I did. It was...pretty amazing...whatever it was you did to me. With whatever it was you used.”

“It’s called edging.” Jake reached down, picking up what looked like a mini-feather duster, a plume of black feathers at the end of a long handle.

“I knew it was a feather!” I laughed. “I really wanted to call out that I knew what it was. But I managed to keep quiet...at least then.”

Jake smiled, then grew serious. “You could have used the safe word at any time, Abby. You know that. If it got too intense, you could have stopped me.”

He looked down. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t stop something. This isn’t just about me; it’s about your comfort too, about your enjoyment of this experience, to learn to enjoy being a submissive.”

I sat back up, kneeling next to him, holding the blanket around my shoulders. “I know. But I really didn’t want you to stop. I wanted that...edging...to continue. It was amazing. But a tiny part of me wanted to be mad at you, to feel that frustration somehow.” I paused, trying to put words to the feelings swirling through me. Jake was watching me intently, his blue eyes never leaving mine as I groped for words.

“When you finally took me, it was like I won, I was getting what I wanted. And that was intense. I don’t think it would have been nearly as intense if I’d have said ‘pineapple’ and you’d have just made love to me.”

His voice was soft, questioning. “I’m not criticizing you here. I want you to think...about your actions and reactions...and how you think that fits into this relationship, about your role as a submissive. Were you submissive today?”

My frown deepened. “No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be, at first at least. I wanted you to control everything, to give myself over to you. But when it got, well, frustrating, I got mad at you.”

Jake smiled. “I sensed that,” he said wryly. “It was pretty clear you were frustrated. But did you ever stop trusting me, trust that I was going to somehow make things better, give you something in return? Something beyond what you could have had in other context?”

“Maybe I did. Maybe that was the tipping point: I stopped trusting that you would take care of me. I thought you were just being mean.”

Jake made a non-committal noise in his throat. It was a long time before he spoke, as if weighing his words carefully.

“You’re not ‘winning’ anything; it’s not a contest. You’re submitting willingly and taking pleasure in the outcome...and in being a good submissive.” He hesitated, looking up at me. There was pain in his eyes. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Abby. I hope you know that.”

I reached out, touching the back of his hand. “I know...I know that now. But then...” I waved my hand. “I wasn’t really thinking then. I was going off pure emotion, or past experiences.” I made a face.

“I made a mistake today. My goal in this session was to withhold your orgasm until I wanted you to come, until I gave you permission, not until you won it from me. There’s a difference; I’m not dominating you if you feel you’ve gotten one over on me. There’s no power shift if you feel you won. And I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer in my expectations today. It won’t happen again.”

His gazed fell on my hands, still clutching the edges of the blanket. He took them both in his, running his fingers slowly over the angry red marks.

“We should wash these off. You can put ice on them later; it will help with the pain.”

I sat up suddenly, a flash of memory coming back, of Jake’s shoulder against my mouth, the taste of blood on my tongue.

“Oh! But I bit you.” I looked at his shoulder, a tiny drop of dry blood visible. My hand flew to my mouth.

“I didn’t remember...I’m sorry.” I reached out to touch him, but stopped, my fingers held above his skin. Was this aftercare or just caring? I pulled back in confusion.

He glanced down at his shoulder, frowning, then looking up to meet my gaze. A smile played around the corners of his mouth.

He slid off the bed and left the room. I could hear water running and then he returned with a damp washcloth and towels. He took my hands, lightly pressing the cool wet cloth against my hot wrists, dabbing gently.

Silently he handed me the cloth and I sat up, the blanket slipping from my shoulders. I dabbed at the marks, wincing inside. I really did that?

Jake offered me a shower and food, but I refused. I wanted to be home, in my own bathtub, eating my own food. We dressed separately and he walked me down the stairs to my car, holding to door as we stepped outside. I blinked, expecting the bright sunshine of mid-afternoon. But I’d walked into the soft light of early evening.

I spun around. “What time is it?” Neither of us was wearing a watch and it dawned on me there had been no clock in the tower room.

“I really don’t know, Abby. I wasn’t paying attention.” He was looking down at me, a slight smile playing around the corners of his lips.

“I told you sessions can sometimes run long or that we’ll lose track of time. It’s why I want true sessions here...” he gestured up at the tower “...to just be on weekends.”

Just on weekends? My face gave away my thoughts. Jake took a step toward me, his fingers on my face. When he spoke, his voice was low.

“There are other things we can do during the week, Abby. It’s not just sessions in the tower room. If you choose, you are my submissive all the time, in every way. It’s up to you how far you want to go with this. ”

I nodded. Something clicked in my head. This really was more than just occasionally being tied up and tickled; this was a lifestyle choice. Or could be, if I was willing to go that far with Jake.

“I’ll call you later, to check on you.” He pulled me to him, his mouth claiming mine in a gentle kiss. He was wearing just the gray sweat pants and his body was warm under my hands as I slid them over the smooth skin of his chest, winding them around his neck.

We stayed like that for a long time in the fading light. After a while I was aware of a not so subtle pressure against my stomach, a shifting of Jake’s hips as he pressed his growing erection against my body. I slid my hands down his lean back, my fingers working beneath the waistband of his sweats, aching to cup his ass in my hands.

But Jake pulled away, reaching behind his back to grab my hands, pulling them to his chest. He held them, bringing them to his lips, kissing my fingers. That seductive smile was playing around his lips, his eyes were hooded and dark.

“Okay, Abby. I think it’s time you headed home.” He released my hands, reaching for the car door.

I watched him in my rear view mirror, standing beneath the shadow of the portico, as I drove away.

The phone rang later that night while I was checking my email, trying to avoid those from Leslie, along with her texts and voice mail messages. I scooped it up; saw Jake’s cell phone number. My heart skipped a beat.

“They’re a bit tender, but they look better. I think I’ll have to wear long sleeves to work tomorrow.”

There was a smile in his voice when Jake spoke. “It will remind you of our time together, your first session as a submissive.”

There as a pause; Jake’s voice was almost stern when he spoke again. “I want us to have dinner tomorrow night. Some place casual, quiet...some place where we can talk. I think we need to go over some of the protocol for you, Abby. To make sure you understand this relationship.”

I was nodding. “Yes, I’d like that. There are things I think I need to talk about.”

“I want you to come as my submissive, Abby. That means you’ll do as I say, be under my control, during the entire evening. I want you to wear a skirt and shirt with buttons. And no panties. You can wear a bra; it should be lacy or sheer.”

Jake chose a little five-star restaurant, close to my apartment. I’d spent far less time agonizing over what to wear this time, only pulling half the clothes out of my closet rather than all of them, even though I had clear direction from Jake as to what he wanted me to wear. I’d finally chosen a pretty green skirt and matching blouse, complete with buttons. The bra was easy; I love lingerie, so there were several to pick from.

I pondered the no panty protocol for a long time. I’d never knowingly gone out in public sans underwear. Going to Jake’s for the session didn’t count, I reasoned. That wasn’t public.

To know that I’d be walking down the sidewalk, sitting in a restaurant, with nothing between me and the world but a thin summer skirt was a little out of my comfort zone. Who was I kidding; it was way out of my comfort zone.

But it occurred to me as I was getting dressed, or rather, not getting fully dressed, that I was only going to get out of this relationship what I was willing to put into it. If Jake was going to put himself fully into this relationship, then the least I could do was respect that—and him—and give myself fully to being his submissive, even if it was difficult. Especially if it was difficult. And I had no doubts, after our first session that being a submissive was going to be far harder for me than being a dominant was going to be for Jake.

He’d picked me up at my apartment, casual and elegant at the same time, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a sport coat over an impeccable white shirt. He managed to take my breath away just standing in my living room. The man would look good in anything...or nothing.

Jake’s eyes traveled appreciatively over my outfit, and my body, taking in all the details of both. His mouth curved into a slow smile.

“I trust there are no panties beneath that skirt?” His voice was light, teasing. I smiled up at him.

“Yes, Master.” I had the overwhelming urge to turn around and flip up the edge of my skirt but held myself in check. Probably not considered good submissive behavior.

Jake had a reservation, and we were efficiently escorted to a tiny booth in a secluded corner, candles set in glass holders casting soft flicking light over the table. I slid behind the table, Jake sitting close to me, his thigh brushing mine. I was excited to be out with him, but also nervous, unsure of my role as a submissive in public. This was almost like a first date, although we weren’t dating. Everything felt new and somehow Jake felt almost like a stranger, even after what had happened in the tower room the day before.

The waiter came for our order, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I started to speak, but Jake interrupted smoothly, ordering for both of us. I gave him a look, waiting until the waiter had turned away before saying anything.

“Yes, I’m sure you can.” He leaned forward, his eyes dark and intense, his face very close to mine, holding my gaze. “But I asked you to be my submissive tonight.” I felt his fingers on the back of my hand, gently stroking my skin. A frisson of electricity ran up my arm.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Abby. I want you to think, to be part of this. Can you do that?”

I looked up at him. There was a challenge in his eyes, but something else. A longing, perhaps? The desire...or the need...to dominate me. I wasn’t sure. I took a deep breath.

“Okay. Yes. I’m willing to try.” I took a drink of water. “But do I really have to call you Master in public?”

Jake sat back, his hand still caressing mine. “We can negotiate. I’ll accept Master in private, Jake in public. Will that be acceptable?”

Jake smiled. He took his hand away from mine, moving it beneath the table to my leg.

“Do you remember what I told you my goal had been for our first session?” His eyes were locked with mine.

I nodded. “I wasn’t supposed to come until you gave me permission.” My breath caught in my throat.

He rested his hand on my thigh for a moment. Just the weight and heat of his hand sent a thrill through my body. Very slowly he began moving his hand beneath my skirt, his fingers sliding to the inside of my thigh, gradually increasing the pressure against my skin, circling that sensitive spot just north of my knee.

“How was work today?” The banality of the question caught me off guard, contrasting sharply with the teasing fingers working their way beneath my skirt. I could feel cool air against my naked skin as he slowly pulled my skirt higher on my leg, the warmth of his fingers on my skin amazingly erotic and arousing.

I shivered, my thigh muscles tensing briefly. There was a corresponding pinch from Jake, gentle but firm.

“Um...well, fine. I have a new client.” How was I supposed to have a conversation about work with him doing whatever he was doing to me under the table?

“Nice. Big account?” Jake’s voice was like velvet over fire, low, seductive and entirely too sexy to be discussing work. Submissive...you’re a submissive. Play the role.

“Too soon to tell.” My breath caught in my throat; his hand rested on my upper thigh now, gently pulling my leg toward him, opening me up beneath the table. I panicked, looking down to make sure the tablecloth actually obscured anyone’s view. My muscles tensed again, straining against his hand, holding my legs together.

The pinch this time was long and slow, making me gasp. Jake leaned toward me, his lips against my ear, his breath brushing against my skin.

“Let go, Abby. Trust me...” I felt the briefest brush of his lips on my skin, soft and firm at the same time.

I took a deep breath, a long drink of water and relaxed. Jake’s hand resumed its pressure, and I allowed him to manipulate me as he wanted, my legs spreading open beneath the table.

With gently strokes he began caressing the inside of my thigh, circling higher and higher, edging closer but not quite touching my pussy. It seemed to go on forever, this seductive dance of his fingers over my skin.

When his fingers finally brushed slowly and deliberately against the outside of my pussy, I jumped, a surprised sound escaping my lips. He pulled his fingers back and I tensed, leaning forward, aching for his touch, wanting to apologize. But I remained silent.

Slowly, his fingers moved back, like an animal circling its prey. He slid them into me then, slowly, over and over, probing deeper and deeper. My gasp this time was loud enough to make Jake cover the sound with a cough and for me to bite the inside of my lip. I glanced at him; his smile only aroused me more, that smile that held all kinds of dark promises.

His deliberate touch on my skin, into my most private recesses, had set off a cascade of feelings in my body. I felt a flush rising up my cheeks, my palms were damp and I knew damn well if he probed any further he find out just how aroused I was. My insides were throbbing, somewhere deep, a low pulsing that made my hips move imperceptibly in time to his inquisitive fingers.

I closed my eyes, breathing shallowly through parted lips. I felt him shift next to me; his mouth was at my ear, his lips brushing my skin.

“Look at me, Abby.” I turned my head, his face just inches away again. I met his gaze and held it, the intensity in those blue depths drawing me in.

His fingers were sliding between the folds of my pussy and I knew he’d discover how wet I was. There was no hiding anything from him now, not that I really wanted to. I discovered with a bit of a shock that I wanted him to do this to me, to take me on this little wild erotic ride in public, drive me over whatever cliff he choose, and I’d go willingly.

My eyes were locked with his, my breath coming in short gasps when the waiter arrived with our first course. Jake sat back, completely relaxed, in control of not only me but himself, chatting easily with the waiter, asking for a bottle of some wine I didn’t recognize. I was a quivering mess, held on the edge of something, poised there, waiting, unable to do anything about it. And I didn’t want to; I wanted Jake to take me further.

“Well, Abby. How are you enjoying dinner...so far?” I looked at Jake, that Cheshire cat smile on his lips, his eyes practically twinkling, looking urbane and sophisticated in contrast with how I felt inside; a wanton disheveled woman on the edge.

The last thing I thought I wanted was dinner. I wanted him, but I knew that wasn’t what was on the menu. I needed to be patient, to let him control this, and me, and trust him. And damn, that was hard.

“I’m anxious for the main course...or maybe dessert?” I took a bite of the food placed in front of me, the rich, complex flavors distracting me briefly from the fire raging through my body. Whatever Jake had ordered, it was sublime. I moaned a little as I chewed.

“What is this?” I was industriously working through this creamy little thing I’d been presented with.

“Goat cheese flan.” He was watching me eat, an open smile of amusement on his face.

“It’s nice to see a girl who enjoys her food. It’s something I like about you, Abby. You enjoy sensual things, like eating. Or enjoying the scent of your own perfume.” He leaned over, his nose near my neck, inhaling. He sat back, his fingers brushing the hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch, seeking more contact, like a cat rubbing against an outstretched hand.

We finished the first course quickly. I wanted Jake to continue his erotic play, but he leaned forward, elbows on the table.

I nodded. I started to pull my skirt back down, but a little voice said Jake had not given me permission. Oh, yeah...that’s how it is. Got it.

“We need to talk about punishment, for the times when you disobey me.” Jake took a swallow of wine, turning the stem of the glass with his fingers.

“Oh. You mean like yesterday.” I looked down at the wine in my glass, something deep and red and wonderful. I took another swallow.

“Yes. I can’t punish you in retrospect; that’s not right. But I can tell you that in future sessions, you don’t speak unless I ask you a question or ask you to speak. We can discuss what that punishment will be before our next session.” He looked over at me, his eyes icy blue.

I nodded my head. While he’d been talking, his hand had slid back under the table. I felt the warmth against my skin before I felt the pressure of his fingers. They were back where he’d left off, stroking me softly, slowly. My body responded with a surge of heat, a whole body tremble that didn’t go unnoticed by Jake. I heard a sharp intake of breath to my right and the hand on my leg clutched me briefly, hard and insistent. I longed to reach over to his lap, to disturb that cool exterior, to grope and fondle him beneath the table, to see just how aroused he was by this whole thing. As if reading my thoughts, he spoke, his voice husky, a bit rushed.

“You’re driving me wild, Abby. And you’re being a very good girl tonight. A very good girl.”

There was a moment there when the restaurant faded away; the sights and smells, the sounds of the other diners, everything disappeared except the touch of Jake’s hand on my skin and the sound of his voice in my ear. ‘A very good girl.’

I wanted to be a good girl, wanted to please Jake. I relaxed my legs as far as I could without sliding down on the leather seat. In all honesty, I wanted to melt right onto the floor, but I did my best to remain upright.

My hips were twitching and flexing, my breath coming in little hitching gasps. I looked over at Jake, my eyes willing him to continue but begging him to stop.

Something passed between us, a look that told him everything. His hand moved away, sliding down my thigh.

“Very good, Abby.” He smiled. I felt a surge of something close to gratitude, which seemed an odd feeling to have for someone who was tormenting me in public. But I was actually enjoying this, willing to let Jake do to me what was giving him pleasure, and taking pleasure in not only his hands on my body, but in knowing I was doing what he wanted me to do.

With perfect timing, our main course arrived. I was presented with a sea bass on a bed of greens. I’m not a fish girl, but this was amazing. I don’t know if Jake’s hands on my body had anything to do with my heightened awareness and increased enjoyment of the food, but the sea bass was indescribably delicious.

We ate in silence, Jake savoring every bite of his tenderloin. He glanced over at me, sliced a small piece from his meal and held the fork toward me. I leaned forward, letting him feed me the tender morsel of beef. It literally melted in my mouth. Jake was watching me, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

I nodded. I didn’t really have words for how I felt at the moment. Somewhere along the line, I figured I’d have a chance to explain to Jake how I’d felt. But at the moment, I was held hostage by the sensations flooding my body and the sea bass teasing my taste buds.

Dessert arrived. And again, Jake’s choice was perfect, as was his execution. He’d ordered one piece of chocolate cake, covered in crème anglaise and what looked like a cherry sauce, with only one fork. I lifted an eyebrow at Jake.

The smile I got from him made me melt a little. “You said you were waiting for dessert. Well, here it is.” Jake slid the fork through the cake, scooping up the crème and the sauce. Holding my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, he slid the fork between my lips.

And then I melted a whole lot more. The cake was rich and not too sweet, the crème warm and gooey, and the dark cherry sauce giving a subtle tart cast to the whole mouthful.

“I thought you’d like this.” With infinite care, he fed me another bite, taking one for himself.

In between feeding me bites of cake, Jake’s hand moved back between my legs. With the same infinite care he used in feeding me, he began slowly sliding one finger into my body, pulling it out, rubbing it up over my clit, repeating this path over and over.

The fire Jake had lit earlier, that had been banked and smoldering during dinner flared instantly at his touch. I was right back at that precipice, hanging over the edge. I looked at Jake, holding his gaze. He slid another tiny piece of cake into my mouth, leaning forward, his lips finding my ear.

And I did, my hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, my body silently exploding, every muscle in my lower body contracting at once. I could feel my toes curl in my shoes, my hips straining forward. If it weren’t for the cake in my mouth, I would have screamed. I felt Jake take my hand, and I squeezed hard, trying to convey exactly what was happening simply through touch.

I closed my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me, spiraling through my body, before slowly ebbing away.

It seemed an eternity but I eventually opened my eyes. Jake was smiling at me, his own arousal at watching me clearly written across his face.

“Did you enjoy dessert?” Jake leaned forward, tracing one finger down my face. His voice was a little breathless.

I nodded, not sure I could trust my voice. I bypassed my wine, grabbing my water glass, taking a long drink, waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal.

“Yes, Jake. I did. Very much so.” I turned to him, taking his hand. I held it to my lips for a moment.

“You were a very good girl, Abby. You deserve a reward.” Jake caught the waiter’s attention, got the check and paid in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t much longer before we were heading out of downtown Houston in his car.

“We’re going to your house?” I turned to him, his face inscrutable in the dark.

“You deserve a reward and I’d like to give you that tonight. I don’t want to delay that in any way.”

We drove in silence, the city giving way to the suburbs. A soft rain had started to fall, the wipers sweeping intermittently across the windshield. I felt safe and comfortable and extremely curious about the rest of our evening.

I recognized Jake’s neighborhood and then the gates to his home. We drove up the curving drive, bypassing the front door, pulling beneath the portico, out of the rain. Jake opened my door, helping me out of the car.

He took me to the tower room side of the portico, unlocking the door, leading me up the dimly lit stairs. I hesitated, remembering the last time I’d been here. It seemed like ages ago, but it had only been yesterday. It seemed like so much had changed between us, but maybe it was only my view of this relationship that had undergone a change.

Jake opened the door to the tower room. I expected the stripped down bed from the day before, but instead I saw he’d made the bed with sheets and pillows, a richly colored comforter folded across the foot of the bed.

He was moving around the room, lighting fat pillar candles, turning down the lights. Soon the room was lit by the flicker of dozens of candles. He took off his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair.

“After you left yesterday. I thought it needed a little...more...for tonight.” He came to stand in front of me, looking down at me, his blue eyes soft in the candle light.

“Am I still in my sub role at the moment?” I resisted the urge to touch him, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

“No, Abby. Not now. You’re free to enjoy your reward, without restriction.”

I took a step toward Jake, breathing deeply. I put my hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt.

“And what is my reward?” I looked up, into those eyes. I wanted to hear him say it, needed to hear him say we would make love, have sex, fuck each other’s brains out. Whatever terms he wanted to use, I didn’t care. But I wanted him to say it.

His hands went around my waist, pulling me lightly against his body, holding me as if I were spun sugar and I’d break if he held me too tightly. He bent his head, his lips brushing not my mouth, but over my closed eyelids, down my cheek, his breath warm against my ear. I felt the flick of his tongue against my neck, in that place where I knew he could feel the pounding of my heart with his lips.

“Your reward...” he murmured the words into my hair. “I want to devour you, every inch, make a feast out of you.” He pulled back, looking down, eyes dark.

And that’s what we set out to do. His mouth descended on mine, claiming my lips, his fingers making quick work of the buttons on my blouse. His hands slid underneath the blouse, cupping my breasts, his thumbs sliding slowly back and forth across my nipples, little snaps of electricity traveling outward from his hands, moving through my body, coalescing in the pit of my stomach.

I’d managed to pull his shirt free of his pants, getting the top few the buttons undone, but I was distracted by his hands, and then his mouth, on my body. The blouse slid from my arms, landing in a silky puddle on the floor. Jake was kissing the exposed tops of my breasts, moving from one to the other, lips firm and hot on my skin. I wound my fingers through his dark hair, holding him to me, arching my back, pressing myself shamelessly against him.

Better at multi-tasking than me, I felt him pull down the zipper on my skirt. It joined the blouse on the floor.

His hands moved behind me, fingers playing over my skin on my shoulders and back, and then my bra was relieved of its duties for the evening, landing with a soft sound on the floor. I was naked in front of him, in just my heels.

He stood, looking down at me, breath moving through lips parted. “You are a most beautiful woman, Abby.” His voice was low, that velvet sound making my heart skip a beat or two.

In one graceful movement he scooped me up, carrying me to the bed, laying me down gently across the sheets. I looked up at him, his hair a bit messy, opened shirt revealing a expanse of smooth chest.

His eyes never left mine as he quickly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, pulling it off. It fell out of sight on the floor. He unbuckled his belt, fingers working the button and zipper of his pants. I broke eye contact, looking down as he slid his pants over his narrow hips.

I knew what he looked like naked, but the physical beauty of his body still took my breath away, maybe because this time he was all mine, in any way I chose to have him. He was all lean muscle, long and powerful looking, wild-cat graceful. I tried not to stare at his erection, but my eyes wanted to stray back. It was long and thick, curving, and at this moment very hard.

I stifled a small gasp: it suddenly occurred to me Jake’s self-control tonight must have been incredible. He’d sat through our dinner, teasing me, touching me—watching me—taking me over the cliff edge, but had had no outlet for his own arousal. For some reason, that obvious fact had totally escaped me.

My eyes flew to his face and I saw in his eyes the same barely contained arousal I’d felt during dinner.

I reached for him then, pulling him down to me, opening myself up to him. At that moment, as much as I wanted him to rekindle the fire he’d started in me during dinner, to devour him as he’d said, I wanted him to take his pleasure in any way he wanted—he needed—with me.

I held his face in my hands, looking into the bottomless blue depths of his eyes, seeing the intensity of his desire—and his naked need for me at that moment—along with that hint of something unreadable that always seemed to lurk just beneath the surface. I ran my fingers down his cheek, across those chiseled lips. He kissed my fingertips.

He held my gaze for a moment. “And I’m yours, too, Abby. But this is your reward, not mine.” There was a hint of a frown on his face.

Jake may have needed me more than I did him at that moment, but he swept me along with him, his body awakening sensations in every nerve ending of my body, his hands and mouth touching every inch of my flesh.

When he finally thrust into me, it was with an uncontained fierceness, a wildness that would have scared me in any other man. But in Jake, I realized it was what I wanted; no restraint, taking me completely, giving me the freedom to give myself fully...and respond in kind.

And I did respond in kind, my response to him surprising myself. I met him thrust for thrust, our bodies moving together, no matter if I rode him or he held me pinned to the bed. The edges between our bodies seemed to blur; we were truly one for a time.

When he came, buried deep inside me, the power of his release was almost overwhelming. He was between my legs, body tensed above me, his hard thighs braced against mine. My hands were everywhere on his body, racing over his chest, brushing back the hair from his face, sliding down over his ass. I could feel his hips flexing in that certain way only a man’s hips can, as they hang balanced, just before that explosive leap off the edge.

His cry was so primal that it startled me, the realization I’d been holding my breath, that my body was as tense as his, breathlessly waiting for this moment.

But when he came, as he filled me with heat, my body went with him, surprising me with the strength of my orgasm. I arched against Jake, my cry was almost as primal as his, pulling him down to me with my arms and legs. We were shuddering, twisting and grinding against each other in mutual ecstasy, our bodies taking and giving simultaneously.

Finally, Jake collapsed next to me, wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me close against his chest. I could hear his heart pounding, feel the muscles slowly soften as his body relaxed, as his breathing slowed.

He untangled the sheets from the end of the bed, pulling them up over our cooling bodies, and we stayed in the bed together for a long time. We were quiet after that; words would have been meaningless. In silence, he helped me dress, ran his fingers through my hair in an effort to restore some semblance of order to my tangled locks, smiling at his attempts. We were gentle with each other, pausing to exchange lingering kisses, taking every opportunity to touch and be touched.

It was very late when Jake drove me home. The rain had stopped and a moon was playing hide and seek in the clouds. We were close to my apartment when I spoke.

There was a beat of silence, then Jake spoke. “I’d like to have a session on Saturday afternoon.”

There was a smile in Jake’s voice. “I do, but you’ll have to be surprised.”

Jake walked me to my apartment door, leaving me with a lingering kiss. I watched him walk down the hall to the elevator before I let myself into the apartment.

“Sorry Big Guy. And I didn’t even bring you a doggy bag...er, kitty bag, did I?” I dumped a scoop of food in his dish, headed to my bedroom, stripping my clothes off along the way. I glanced at the clock; I was going to get maybe four hours of sleep.

But I didn’t care. I wanted to think about Jake, all the different facets of this complex man I’d experienced in one evening: his complete control—of me and himself—during dinner; his primal passion—and subsequent tenderness—in the tower room.

But the scent of us, of our evening together, wrapped around me like Jake’s arms. I inhaled deeply and was asleep instantly.

I’d plunged myself into work that week, which wasn’t too hard with my new client. Leslie had been inquisitive at first and then disappointed with the lack of certain details she deemed crucial. We’d finally had time for lunch later in the week.

“At least you can tell me about the non-bondage sex, can’t you?” We were back at the Italian deli, this time sharing a stromboli. Leslie was practically drooling; I wasn’t sure if it was over the spicy food or the anticipation of some juicy details about Jake.

“Well, yeah. I suppose.” I chewed for a minute. What the hell. I really do want to talk about Jake.

I gave her the details, leaving out the bit about the sex being my reward for being a good girl. It was fun indulging in girl talk with Leslie. And it gave me a thrill to remember all the details of my time with Jake.

“You. You’re different with this guy. Normally you’d have spilled the details about the sex and then gone off on a riff about how much in love you were with him. But you have not said the word ‘love’ once. Not once.”

I sat back. She was right. Whatever I felt for Jake at this point, and I did feel quite a bit, love wasn’t part of it. I respected him; I liked him a lot, and I certainly was attracted to him. And I thought I trusted him a great deal. But my usual obsessive version of love was absent. That’s good, right?

Leslie was watching me closely. “Abby, are you happy with this...thing, this relationship? Really happy?”

I looked at her. And then I nodded. “Yeah, Leslie. I am. Really.” And I realized that was a far better feeling than my usual obsessive love.

Saturday had seemed so far away on Monday night, but it finally arrived. Jake had said I would be in submissive mode the entire time, from when I arrived at the tower room until he said I was not. I was to call him Master, not speak unless spoken to and not to indulge in, as he called it while explaining my behavior in our first session, ‘topping from the bottom’.

In other words, no outbursts, stay in the session and use the safe word if I needed to.

I parked in what I considered my spot now, beneath the portico, at three o’clock. Jake met me at the bottom of the tower stairs, shirtless and barefoot, wearing the gray sweats. I felt a thud deep inside; seeing him like this brought back memories of our last session.

“Abby.” He kissed me deeply, pulling me against him for a moment. “I’ve missed you.”

“Come in for a minute. I want to talk about this session and make sure you’re comfortable with where I want to go with this.”

Jake took me to the bed, motioning for me to sit down. It was stripped down to just the black sheet, stretched taut across the mattress. The lush linens and pillows from our last encounter were gone, as were the candles. With a shock, I realized I’d had that image in my mind, but the romantic atmosphere was gone. This was Jake and me, dominant and submissive. Something clicked over in my mind. I really hadn’t been in submissive mode until now.

“I want to try nipple clamps with you tonight. Nipple play; heightened sensory awareness.”

For some reason the clinical description irritated me. I knew Jake needed to control these encounters and for him, that meant the textbook description of whatever he was going to do with or to me. I swallowed, letting it go. Starting off on the wrong submissive foot here, girl.

He was holding something in his hand, two clamps with some black rubber attached by a silver chain. They looked wicked but intriguing all at the same time.

I took the clamps, experimentally attaching one to my little finger. It pinched, but not hard. Jake took the other end, holding my hand, turning it palm up, holding the clamp above the webbing between my thumb and index finger.

“They’re adjustable. We can start with the lightest pressure, like this...” The clamp came down on the sensitive skin of my hand. I jumped, more from surprise than pain. Jake looked up at me.

I nodded. “Yeah, it just surprised me. They’re fine.” I wiggled my hand, the weight of the chain and other hook pulling on my hand. I looked up at him. “I’d like to try them.”

Jake smiled. “Okay. You can go change and I’ll get set up. When you come into the session, hang your robe on the hook on the door and then stand, your hands in front of you, eyes lowered, and wait for my instructions.” He stood, pulling me up off the bed, kissing me quickly.

“And it’s Master when you return.” With surprising force, he swatted my backside as I left the room.

In the bathroom, I took off my clothes, this time just a shirt and jeans, no bra or panties. I slipped into my robe, pulled my hair back and secured it before padding down the hall to the tower room.

Jake was waiting, the clamps in one hand and something black in the other. I wanted to ask, but remembered I was now in total submissive role. I hung up the robe, stood with my hands in front of me. I dropped my eyes, but I would not lower my head. He hadn’t said I needed to do that.

“I have a collar for you, Abby. Something to help you remember your role. And remember too that there is punishment for disobedience. I will spank you if you disobey. Do you understand?”

“Good. Come here.” I walked across the room, very much aware of the feel of the rug beneath my bare feet, the gentle breeze from one of the open windows. The curtains were pulled, but it had been an unseasonably warm day and Jake must have opened a window earlier. It surprised me to think he spent time here when we didn’t have a session. What exactly would he do here alone?

But then all thoughts left my mind as I stood in front of Jake. He held out a wide black leather collar with a large silver ring in the center.

I did, and he moved behind me, bring the collar around my neck, fastening it behind me. It was heavier than it looked, the weight settling against my skin. Jake moved back in front of me, standing just a foot or so away.

I was a submissive, kneeling in front of this man, wearing a collar. A week or so ago, I’d have been horrified at the thought. Now, it didn’t seem all that terrible. There was a tiny nagging voice, way back in my mind, that still protested. But a louder voice—and my body—welcomed this.

Jake was watching me and I realized I was staring at his crotch. There was no visible erection, just a sense of weight and mass. And then I realized Jake had spoken.

“I asked you if the collar was too tight.” There was a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth. I wasn’t sure if he was amused by my gaff, irritated because I disobeyed or just enjoying my discomfort.

“Good. Stand up.” I did. The collar was actually quite annoying, wide enough to rub against my neck, heavy enough not to ignore, which I figured was its purpose.

Jake had picked up something from a silver bowl on a nearby table. I saw it was an ice cube and since we were dealing with ‘heightened sensitivity’ and my nipples, I knew exactly where that ice cube was going to go.

I tensed, jerking away, like a skittish horse. There was a sharp intake of breath; Jake stopped, the dripping ice cube held in his hand. My eyes flew to his face, my hand to my mouth. Oh, shit.

“I’m sorry, Jake....I, just...it’s...well, cold...” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the melting ice cube held forgotten in his hand. There was more; I felt vulnerable, standing naked in this room, aware of how imperfect my body was, suddenly feeling out of my depth. I wanted the lights out, or the blindfold back on. If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.

But there was no way to explain all that to Jake, not now, not unless I wanted to stop the whole session. And I didn’t want that.

“Abby. You are disobeying me at the moment. You can stop talking.” He turned, tossing the ice cube back with the rest. I heard it clink against the edge of the bowl. He wiped his hand on his sweat pants.

I followed Jake to the other end of the room, away from the bed. There was a small table and chair set against one wall. I’d never paid attention to this end of the room, couldn’t even say if this furniture had been here before.

I shook my head, not so much in protestation of receiving punishment but in resignation...in recognition that I had disobeyed. I did lower my head now, in disappointment and something like shame. I wasn’t Jake’s good girl at the moment and that actually hurt.

“I’ll spank you ten times, with my hand, on your bare ass. You don’t need to count the strokes; I’ll do that. But you do need to think about why I’m doing this and what you can learn from it.”

Jake had me bend over the table. It took all my courage to crouch there, waiting for Jake, for my punishment. All the insecurities that I had about my weight came bubbling to the surface as I pictured myself from Jake’s point of view, in this most awkward and unattractive of positions.

The first stinging slap across my skin made me jump, a sharp cry escaping my lips. I started counting in my head. The second slap hurt more, and then I was distracted by Jake’s voice.

“You’re being punished for avoiding me, avoiding what I wanted to do. Do you understand that, Abby?”

I didn’t think he’d speak; it was disconcerting to hear his voice, feel his hand on my flesh and be expected to reply. I swallowed hard.

His hand struck me again. My ass was burning, the sting of this slap adding to the heat of the first two...or three?

“You’re being punished for speaking when not spoken to. Do you understand that?”

The rest of the slaps melded into one searing sensation of heat across my ass. And then he was done, moving away from me. I was breathing hard, no longer crying.

“Your punishment is done and it’s in the past. I won’t bring it up again. If you have questions, you can ask me now. Or we can talk later. You may stand up.”

Jake was standing a few feet away. I looked up at him, not sure what to expect, anger maybe. But his eyes held pain, as if he’d been struck himself.

“No, Master.” I held his gaze. He took a deep breath, as if coming to a decision.

“We can continue with the session or we can stop. I’ll leave that decision up to you, Abby. You may speak freely now.”

He stood motionless, no hint of expression on his face, save the pain in his eyes. I had no way of knowing if he wanted to continue or not; his body gave nothing away. I took a deep breath, surprising myself with my answer.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “You’re sure? Don’t do this because you think it may be what I want. Your enjoyment of this is just as important as mine, your comfort and safety are the most important thing to me. I would never force you to do something you didn’t want to do. I hope you know that.”

I nodded. “I’m fine. I disobeyed; I received my punishment. But I still want the session.” I was amazed at my clarity. I truly wanted to experience whatever Jake had planned for me.

“Alright.” He took a step toward me. “It won’t be a very long session, Abby. You’re back under silence again. Do you understand?”

He smiled. “You can make any sounds you like, including any expletives. Just no talking to me or...” he moved closer “...no expletives directed at me. Do you understand?”

We walked back to the other end of the room. He had me stand where I had been earlier, picking up an ice cube and walking toward me.

I held still, watching, as he stopped in front of me. I could feel the heat from his body, smell that rich scent that belonged only to him. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. When I opened them, he was looking down at me.

The ice on my nipple was colder than I could have imagined. I sucked breath through my teeth, but did not cry out...or speak. I looked down, watching in amazement as the nipple contracted, the sensation of pain—but not quite pain—intense but not unbearable. There was a simultaneous thump deep in my body, centered somewhere south of my navel.

Jake applied the ice cube to the other nipple. I was expecting the sensation this time but it still took my breath away. When he stepped back, both nipples were hard, harder than I’d ever experienced, sticking out from my breasts. He bent down, sucking one nipple into his mouth. I cried out then, the heat of his tongue flicking against the icy nipple an exquisite torture. He moved to the other, sucking hard, pulling the nipple into his mouth. I arched against his mouth, longing to hold his head against my breasts, clenching my hands at my sides.

After tormenting me with his tongue, Jake lifted his head, his breath catching in his throat. With infinite care, he threaded one end of the nipple clamp chain through the ring on my collar, letting the ends dangle against my breasts. He reached for one, looking up at me briefly.

“Yes, Master.” My voice was a whisper, my body suddenly thrumming with excitement. Jake looked at me for a moment, hesitating slightly. But whatever he saw on my face, in my eyes, made him smile; that dark smile that drove a spike of pleasure through my body.

Jake pinched my nipple along with some of the areola behind it with his fingers, attaching the clamp. I cried out; the pressure was intense, the sensations coursing through my body amazing. He quickly attached the other clamp. He stood back, breathing hard, looking down at his handiwork.

I looked down as well at both nipples held by the clamps. The chain through my collar put enough pressure, pulled them just enough, to increase the electricity throbbing through my body. I knew that I was very wet; there had been an instant flush of heat through my pussy with a corresponding rush of wet warmth.

Jake reached out, grabbing me by the hips, pulling me toward him, pressing my body gently against his. My nipples rubbed against his chest, sending waves of feelings through my body. I cried out, my chain making a soft noise as it slipped through the ring on my collar.

He leaned back slightly, the only contact now at our hips, the heat of his erection against my naked skin, made all the more erotic by the thin covering of fabric. He rubbed himself against me for a moment, his eyes half closed as he watched my breasts swaying, the nipples protruding, watched his cock brushing against my skin.

“Come with me.” Jake took me to the bed, instructing me to climb up on my hands and knees. He stripped his sweat pants down his legs, his hard cock rising from the apex of his thighs.

He got on the bed behind me, holding my hips in his hands. My ass was still stinging from my spanking and I imagined how red my skin must be, what Jake was seeing. The uncomfortable feeling of being exposed rose up again and I struggled to fight it down.

The weight of the chain tugged at my nipples, increasing the waves of pleasure coursing through my body. And then there was Jake, rubbing his cock against my ass, sliding it over my heated skin. There was a deep clenching inside me, something dark and primal on the verge of breaking loose.

But he didn’t enter me. He held himself pressed against me, gently rocking me back and forth. The chain began swinging back and forth, faster as Jake increased his movement.

Suddenly Jake grabbed my hair, tugging my head back. The chain pulled tight against the clamps; my cry was equal parts pain and pleasure. He held me there, suspended in that space for a long moment. He released my hair and my head dropped forward, the tension against my nipples reduced. I gasped for breath, mouth open, eyes closed.

I felt Jake reach one hand down, sliding against the fullness of my breast. He unclamped the nipple clamp, reaching down to the other, releasing it as well.

There was a moment of confusion in my brain; there was a brief suspension of time where there was no sensation in my nipples at all. I thought something was wrong.

But then there was a flood of something else, a wave of prickly heat, sudden and intense. I cried out loudly, almost a scream.

In that instant, Jake thrust into me. And in the next instant I came, my body convulsing beneath him, my hips taking on a life of their own, bucking and twisting. My nipples were throbbing, sending jolts of electricity through my body, straight to every nerve ending in my pussy. And Jake’s cock was there, thrusting back against every part of me that was aroused, his body rubbing against the tender skin of my ass.

There seemed to be no end to this. I was dimly aware of Jake’s noises behind me but I had no conscious thoughts about him at all, other than the sensations his cock was producing in my body. There was heat and a flood of something very wet and then I was lying on the bed, breathing heavily. Jake was next to me, cradling my body against his, brushing damp hair from my forehead.

I opened my eyes, focusing on his face. He traced a line down my face, over my shoulder, down my arm, raising a line of goose bumps. His forearm brushed against my nipple and I cried out softly, pulling away. And then I cringed. Had I disobeyed again?

He leaned forward, kissing my forehead. “You’re okay, Abby. The session’s ended. You’re out of your role now.”

He shifted on the bed, letting me rest my head and shoulders on his chest, my sensitive nipples safe from accidently brushes and touches.

“Do you need anything, Abby?” Jake’s voice was soft, his breath stirring my hair.

“Maybe later. Something for my backside.” I closed my eyes. “Right now I’m sleepy.”

“Then rest. We can talk later, when you’re ready.” He moved away, coming back to cover me with a blanket, tucking a pillow beneath my head. The soft warmth enveloped me and I was instantly asleep.

The room was darker when I woke up. I was disoriented, the bed unfamiliar beneath me, the blanket not one from my own bed. Then I remembered; the tower room.

There was a light coming from behind me. I sat up, wincing as my tender skin came in contact with the bed.

“Ouch. Shit.” I muttered to myself. There was a chuckle from somewhere. I turned, startled. Jake was sitting in an arm chair in the corner, reading a book, a floor lamp casting a circle of yellow light around him. He set the book on a small table next to the chair.

“How do you feel?” He stood, coming to stand by the edge of the bed. He was wearing a pair of well-loved jeans, faded and worn with a few holes evident here and there, and a clean white t-shirt. I had the impression he’d had a shower. He smelled clean and looked refreshed.

“I’m sore.” I got up on my knees, which seemed to be the most comfortable position at the moment. I noticed the collar and nipple clamps were gone.

“I have something that will help.” Jake went to the cabinet. I was struck again by his grace; just watching him walk across the room was a sensual experience.

I peered at what he had in his hand. He held it out, showing me the label. It was a tube of arnica gel.

“We should have done this right away, but you were out and I really didn’t want to wake you up by rubbing your ass.” He laughed suddenly, a deep rich sound.

“Actually, waking you up by rubbing your ass would be something I’d really enjoy. But on a different day.”

I giggled. “I’d probably like that, but, yeah, not tonight.” I settled on my stomach. “What time is it?”

“Holy cow. Really?” I felt his hands skimming over my skin, the gel cool and soothing, the smell vaguely green and organic.

“It’s not as red as it was earlier; this will help keep it from bruising.”

His hands were gentle, moving over my skin. My mind went back to our first time together, the massage he’d given me in front of the fire. I relaxed, letting my body sink into the bed.

“Is there anything you want to talk about, Abby? Anything that confused your or you didn’t understand?”

“Well, it’s all a bit vague and distant at the moment.” He’d stopped rubbing the arnica on my skin. I rolled onto my side, leaning on the pillow.

Jake seemed started by my question; I got the impression it wasn’t what he expected. He was quiet for a moment, as if sorting through a complex puzzle.

“I have to admit that seeing you bent over the table...” I cringed, remembering my own image of what I looked like, none of them flattering. “...I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I got hard, really hard, really fast. If we hadn’t been in a session, I would have fucked you then and there.” He stopped for a breath.

His face was flushed, his eyes bright. I waited, my heart fluttering in my chest. I hadn’t expected this. I really didn’t know what I expected.

“But I knew, being in session, I couldn’t do that. I needed to remain in control, to follow through with what I’d said I was going to do. I respect you enough not to be capricious with this; if I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to follow through.

“When I started talking, explaining to you this was punishment, any pleasure I felt went away, instantly. I didn’t enjoy punishing you. It hurt.”

His eyes had grown dark. I reached out for him and he climbed up on the bed, lying down next to me. We held each other for a long time.

Jake’s hands began moving over my body, gently exploring as if for the first time. He leaned down, kissing me softly, his lips moving over my mouth, his tongue feather-soft against my lips. Pulling away, he looked down at me in the dim light the lamp cast on the bed.

“Can I touch you here?” He traced a finger over my breasts, sliding it down toward one nipple.

“Yes, but not hard.” They were still sensitive, not painful, but every brush of the blanket...or now, Jake’s fingers...sent little waves of heat through my body.

Slowly he touched me everywhere, his fingers sliding over my skin, lingering here and there, stroking softly. I was moaning against his mouth, relishing the slow gentle touches, so different from this afternoon’s session.

I’d reached down, undoing the buttons on his jeans, running my hands over his cock. He sighed, burying his face in my neck.

He lifted his head. “I don’t really. But sometimes I think I cross the line from our agreed relationship into something more, something I know neither of us wants.” He kissed me, something urgent and passionate in his kiss.

Was this really as complicated as it seemed? Did it need to be? I was beginning to feel I was the one in control here, sometimes more than Jake.

“Don’t resist, Jake, give in. It’s not going change things for me.” I kissed him, pulling him down to me.

We made love for a long time, slowly, Jake taking his time, holding me gently. There were no loud cries, no bucking and thrashing. I was carried away on a gentle current, my orgasm feeling like the stretch at the end of a yoga work out; my muscles relaxed, pliant, my body and mind at peace.

Jake came with a low moan, his face buried in my neck. I felt him shudder briefly, holding himself still inside me, then a flooding warmth. He exhaled, slowly, pulling me against him, curling his body around mine.

I woke a long time later, shivering in the chill air. The room was dark; Jake was lying next to me, his arm loosely flung across my waist. I watched him sleep for a long time, his face just visible in the light from one partially covered window.

There was no reason for me to leave. I pulled the blanket back over my shoulder, jostling Jake in the process. I felt him stir next to me.

“Go back to sleep,” I whispered in the dark. And he did, tightening his hold around my waist, pulling me back against his body.

Jake fed me breakfast, insisting that I eat before I went home. I’d taken a long hot shower, methodically working through a vast array of scented shampoos, soaps, scrubs and other products I’d found in the bathroom in the tower. For a small bathroom in a guest wing, it was remarkably well-stocked.

I took the confusing maze of hallways back to the main house rather than walking outside, making only one wrong turn on the way. The scent of food was as good as GPS though and I found Jake in the kitchen making French toast. I took a seat at the kitchen counter and a plate was placed in front of me, complete with fresh strawberries, and a dollop of what I believed was homemade whipped cream. I dove in, realizing I was famished.

“Oh, my god, Jake. Where did you learn to cook?” He was leaning on the other side of the counter, watching me with amusement.

“Living alone and getting tired of take-out and fast food. I’d had enough of instant noodles in college. As soon as I had my first apartment, I invested in a set of chef quality knives and cast iron cookware. And learned how to use them.”

I was too busy chewing to do more than nod. Jake poured coffee for both of us, setting mine in front of me and coming around the end of the counter with his, and a plate piled high with French toast, to sit next to me.

We ate in silence. I resisted the urge to lick my plate clean, instead using the last pieces of French toast to clean up the syrup and whipped cream. I sat back, sighing, relaxed and content.

“Abby, there’s something I wanted to ask you.” Jake pushed his empty plate away, looking at me.

“Okay. What is it?” There was hesitancy in his eyes, not quite the confident Jake I had grown use to.

“I’d like us to go to a BDSM club. There’s one in Houston; I think it would be good for us to see how other doms and subs interact, maybe learn something.”

He turned toward me, taking my hand. “I’m asking you...not demanding that you go. But I think it would be a good idea.”

I thought about this for a minute. There didn’t seem to be a down-side. We’d get a different perspective, see how others acted. I nodded.

“I think it’s a good idea. We’re kind of in our own little bubble here. Seeing others... meeting others...yeah. I think it would be good.”

Jake’s face relaxed, a broad smile on his face. “Good. I’m glad. I’ll make the arrangements. From what I’ve heard about of the club, you need an invitation. I’ll take care of it and let you know when we can go.”

Jake and I fell into a routine over the next couple weeks, while we waited for an invitation to the club. We’d have dinner during the week, spend the evening at Jake’s, in the bed in the tower room, and he’d drive me home later. During the week the bed was dressed in soft linens and blankets and pillows, a stark contrast from the plain black sheet of the weekend.

It was during one of these dinners that Jake presented me with an elegantly wrapped box. We weren’t in session so I was free to oh and ah as much as I wanted...and to question what it was.

“Open it, Abby.” Jake was patiently waiting for me to untie the cream colored satin ribbon. The black wrapping paper fell away from a black velvet box. I opened it cautiously, peering beneath the cover.

“It’s not going to bite you, Abby.” Jake was laughing at my trepidation. “It’s not alive.”

The box held a necklace, a length of interlocking rings that looked like a miniature piece of chainmail. It was beautifully constructed, weighty and solid as I held it in my hand, but sinuous and sensual as it flowed over my fingers.

“Jake, it’s beautiful.” I looked at him. He appeared to be waiting for me to say something else.

“Thank you.” After a beat of silence he took the chain, turning it in my hands until the clasp faced me. I looked closely; it was a tiny pair of interlocked handcuffs.

“It’s a slave necklace. I thought it would be more comfortable—and prettier—to wear on a daily basis than the leather collar. We’ll save that for sessions.”

I looked down at the necklace, and all that it represented, the weight it carried, not just in its solid silver links but between Jake and I. I closed my eyes for a moment. While this wasn’t a traditional relationship, the necklace seemed to represent a commitment of some kind. Did I want that commitment, and that responsibility?

I looked up at Jake. There were so many emotions playing across his face, but the biggest one was something akin to fear. I held his gaze for a moment and then held the necklace out to him. He almost flinched away from me, but took the chain.

“Would you put it on for me?” I turned on the banquette, lifting the hair from my neck. After a moment, I felt the cool silver against my skin, the weight settle on my neck. There was a tiny click as Jake fastened the clasp, a soft sound but it seemed to echo through the restaurant.

I turned back to Jake. The look of relief on his face was so palpable, I would have laughed. But I didn’t think that was the right thing to do at the moment. Instead I leaned forward, kissing him gently, brushing my lips over his, my tongue catching a hint of the bourbon he’d had before dinner.

Jake was attentive and gentle that night in the tower room, the sex long and slow. He approached me almost in an attitude of gratitude. I wasn’t sure, afterward, lying in the dark, if the necklace was really for me, or for him in some way. I fingered the silver, counting the links with my fingers, almost like a tiny set of prayer beads. Or worry beads.

“We’ve got an invitation to the club.” Jake’s voice on the phone was excited. “A week from Saturday. We’ll be guests of the club’s owner, Chase Thomas.”

Even though I was expecting the news, my heart did a little stutter-step. A bondage club had never entered my mind until Jake suggested it. But I was also very excited at the prospect of going. And, as usual, I panicked over what to wear.

“Relax. Chase said there’s no real dress code; you’re not required to wear latex or anything. Just be comfortable.” Latex?

“Although, if you’re going to be a sub and join in any party-play, you’d probably want something appropriate...you know, sexy and with easy access. Then again, pretty much anything you wear looks sexy, but I’m biased.”

“What are you wearing?” I tried the typical girl turn-around; ask someone else what they are wearing to the party. It didn’t work.

“I’d like to choose an outfit for you, Abby. I can, as your Dom, do that. You will be in submissive role and I’d like you to be in something of my choosing. It would be my pleasure.”

I could hear the smile in his voice; almost see the glint in his eyes as he contemplated me in various types of bondage gear. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“No, there’s no need for that. I’ll have a selection sent to your apartment and then you can decide. And surprise me.” There was a definite lascivious tone to his voice.

“Fine. I’ll agree to that...Master.” There was a laugh from the other end.

“I know you’re nervous; I am too. But it’ll be fine. If nothing else, you’ll end up with a new wardrobe for session play and we’ll come away with some good stories. But I think it’ll be good for both of us.”

There was a large box waiting at my apartment door when I got home from work the next evening. It was appropriately wrapped in plain brown paper. I dragged it into my bedroom, gingerly opening the box, not quite sure what to expect.

And I was unprepared for what was inside; some of it leather, all of it black. Much of it, as I looked at it lying on my bed, made no sense; there were straps and buckles and widgets. Nothing seemed remotely like something a human body would wear.

But then I saw it, an outfit I could...would wear. It was a black leather corset that laced up the back, with a zipper up the front. Easy access, Jake. You’ve got it. And it fit. I put it on.

There was a short black skirt, something shiny, very short. I cringed but put that on as well. It had a zipper that went from hem to waistband. I thought about it for a minute; I wasn’t sure if the zipper went in the front or the back. But then I realized it didn’t matter. Either way would have the desired effect. I put it on with the zipper at the back.

There were at least a dozen pairs of thigh-high stockings in the box: fishnets, lace, sheer...all black. I found a garter, figured out the straps and clips, added a pair of lace-patterned stockings.

My own shoe fetish provided a pair of black heels, ‘fuck-me pumps’ as Leslie was fond of calling them. They added at least four inches to my height and gave me the illusion of having longer, thinner legs... or I hoped they did.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, something I rarely did. But now, I almost couldn’t walk away.

It was me, only it was more me...and in a good way. The corset pulled me in and pushed me up and out, giving the curves I had more definition. The skirt hugged my hips and ass, and somehow didn’t make them look huge.

And yes, the shoes did make my legs look miles long. Covered in the black lace, they looked pretty damn good.

I wanted to call Jake and tell him, but I really wanted him to be surprised. While I was putting away the assortment of items I was confused about, the phone rang.

“Did you get the box? Did you find something you like?” Jake’s voice was Christmas-morning excited.

“Yes, Jake. I did. And I’m not telling you what I picked out. You’ll have to be surprised.” I was actually going to enjoy this.

“Alright. I guess I’ll have to be patient.” There was a pause, and what sounded like a resigned sigh. “I have a bit of bad news though. My board of directors has scheduled a shareholders’ meeting for next week. I’ll be out of town until early Saturday morning...the morning of our club date.”

“Yes, I’ll miss our sessions too. I had all kinds of devious things planned for you. But, they’ll just have to wait until after our club date.”

“When are you leaving? Can’t we have a session this weekend?” I detected a hint of panic in my voice. Where was this coming from?

“I’ll have to spend the weekend here, or at the office, prepping for the meetings. There’s some policy changes at the local and state level that’s gotten the shareholders nervous. But I don’t want to bore you with the details. It just means I’m not going to be around before the club date, except by phone.”

“Oh.” There was nothing else I could think to say. My heart was tripping along in my chest, a funny syncopated beat.

“Well, yes...no, I’m not sure. This is...whatever I’m feeling is a bit scary. I’m not sure how to explain it.” And I didn’t think I could explain it to myself at the moment.

“Listen, Jake. It’s fine...I’m fine. It just took me off guard. And sometimes I don’t respond to change very well.” I forced a smile into my voice.

“I’ll be fine,” I repeated. “I’ll just play dress up with all these new clothes, spank myself and think of you.” There was a brief silence and a subdued laugh on the line.

After he hung up, I sat down among the welter of leather and fishnet and Pleather. My panicky feelings had subsided somewhat. I tried to decide just what I was feeling. Normally, when some guy said he couldn’t see me, I took it as rejection, he didn’t like me anymore, and I’d have cried myself to sleep. But with Jake, that wasn’t it. I believed him when he said he’d be working and I had no doubt he’d be back.

It was something deeper. I was going to miss him; our routine had become something stable in my life, our dinners and sessions something I looked forward to.

I shook my head. Maybe it’s the submissive in me. Was I going to miss Jake as my dominant? Was that the reason hearing about his absence sent me into a tailspin?

This was more than I cared to think about at the moment. I finished packing up the box of clothes and tucked it into my closet. I hung the skirt, corset and stockings on a hanger, leaving it hanging on my closet door, where I could look at it. And I did want to look at it; it was a really erotic outfit. And I was going to be wearing it.

I curled up on the bed with the cat, trying to rekindle my dampened enthusiasm. I really was going to miss Jake. A week seemed like an eternity.

On the Saturday of our club date, I was beyond excited. I’d booked a facial, waxing session, and pedicure and manicure. After all that attention, I felt sexy and confident, actually pretty. I wasn’t sure this feeling would carry me through the whole night, but starting out on a positive note couldn’t hurt.

Looking in the mirror, I deemed myself ready. I’d used far more make-up than I usually wore, playing with dramatic eye make-up and red lipstick. Even though it was over the top, it looked pretty good with the new outfit. It may end up all over my face at some point, but at least I’d look good in the beginning.

Jake came to pick me up at ten o’clock. I’d had a nap in the afternoon and managed to eat a meal, even though my nerves had destroyed my appetite. I’d even put out an extra bowl of cat food for the cat, just in case things ran late. When I answered the door, I was breathless, both from nerves and because I hadn’t seen Jake in over a week.

I had a glimpse of him, in a tight black t-shirt and dark jeans, looking understated but enormously sex. But he had me in his arms before the door was even closed, his kiss full of the same longing I had felt all week. I melted against his body, letting him claim my mouth with his, settling some of the butterflies in my stomach.

It was a long time before we came up for air. Jake held me, looking down into my eyes, running his fingers through my hair.

“I’ve missed you, Abby.” And then his eyes slid lower, widening a bit. He held me at arm’s length, his eyes taking in my outfit, turning me in a slow circle.

“I approve very much. You look amazing, Abby.” His hands had started roaming over my body, trying to pull the various zippers up and down. I slapped his hands.

He laughed, pulling me close again. “Are you topping from the bottom again, or do you want to switch roles?” He tried kissing me, but I ducked out of his arms.

“We need to go, Jake. Seriously. But first I need your help with this.” I picked up the slave necklace Jake had given me, holding it out to him.

“Please put it on me, Master.” I watched his face, his expression changing from his excitement at seeing me to the realization that I was now in my submissive role. I briefly wondered if that was disobedience, but I didn’t think so. Apparently Jake didn’t either.

“Turn around, Abby.” I obeyed. Jake’s voice had taken on that tone he used in our sessions, the velvet-over-fire tone that affected me deeply. I felt my heart skip a beat and knew from now on, I was in charge. There was something highly erotic in knowing that, along with a profound sense of comfort. It felt right.

The club was a short drive from my apartment, in a mixed neighborhood made up of industrial buildings, small stores and offices and the occasional apartment building. Overall, the area was almost deserted this late at night.

Jake pulled up in front of one of the industrial buildings. It looked abandoned and I glanced up the façade, not seeing any lights in the windows. But as I was standing on the sidewalk gaping upward, I heard Jake talking. I turned to see him handing his keys to a large man, who got into the car, driving down the street.

“Valet parking.” Jake was unusually laconic. He took my arm just before we reached the large door to the building.

“Remember what we talked about yesterday. You’re with me, as my submissive. You are not someone else’s sub. If someone touches you that you do not want to touch you, or I haven’t agreed can touch you, tell me. You won’t be disobeying if that happens.”

I nodded. Jake had spent a long time explaining that nothing would happen to me that I didn’t want, including any scenes with him that I felt uncomfortable doing in public. He’d also mentioned that he might want to share me with another Dom, possibly Chase Thomas.

“Is that typical? I mean, do Doms do that?” It had never occurred to me that Jake would want to share me, with anyone. But the idea had definite appeal to me. Being with another Dom, one with more experience, could only be a good thing, something that would help our relationship.

“Yes, in the context of the club or parties, it can happen. But it’s something everyone agrees on. You’re not passed around from Dom to Dom. It’s all consensual.”

Jake had gone on. “I’ve talked to Chase Thomas a few times over the last few days. He’s offered, if I’m willing and you are, to have a scene with you. It could be private if you like, or public.”

I had said at the time I would make up my mind in the club, unless he demanded a decision right then and there. But Jake had said that it was up to me, he would abide by my final decision.

But standing on the sidewalk in front of the club, my mind was racing. “May I speak, Master?” I was trying hard to stay in my role, but there was just too much in my head right now.

“Yes, of course.” Jake was looking at me, but his face in shadow. The streetlights on this block seemed few and far between.

“Okay. So no one touches me unless it’s okay with you, or with me.” Jake nodded. My voice dropped.

“And if you want to share me, it’s still okay? I mean, with you?” This part of our conversation had left me slightly confused. I knew how I felt, but I still had this lingering sense Jake was less sure if this was something he was comfortable with. There seemed to be something lurking beneath his desire to share me. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get a read on him on this issue. I hadn’t really given him an answer, couldn’t until I’d seen the club, gotten my feet wet, so to speak.

“Yes, it’s still okay with me. Are you up for it?” There was a forced quality to Jake’s voice. But we’d always agreed on honest communication; if he was telling me it was okay, then it was okay.

“Yes. I am. I’m fine with it...now.” Jake nodded, taking my arm, leading me toward the large door.

“Unless he’s ugly and has snaggle teeth.” I felt a bit giddy and a small fit of giggles escaped me.

Jake looked down at me, his face now illuminated by the overhead light of the door. I saw him smile, shake his head.

But I didn’t need to worry about Chase Thomas being ugly or having snaggle teeth. After the doorman had verified Jake and I were on the guest list, he’d lead us to a small room off of what appeared to be a large lounge. There had been small groups of people, some couples, standing or sittings, talking quietly. Music was playing somewhere deep inside the club, but the atmosphere here was relaxed and fairly quiet.

The man sitting behind a small desk was anything but ugly. And his smile was on the dazzling side; not a snaggle tooth in evidence. I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this really wasn’t it.

Chase Thomas was dressed very much like Jake, in a black buttoned shirt and dark jeans. But while they may have dressed the same, that’s where the similarity ended. Chase was solidly built, the broad expanse of his chest stretching his t-shirt tight. His jeans hugged his body, accentuating his muscular thighs and, as he came around the desk, the curve of his ass. His easy smile lit up his brown eyes, making him seem open and friendly. I had a hard time reconciling this image with knowing he was the owner of a BDSM club. Somehow I expected some dark and brooding figure, skulking around, lurking in the shadows.

The men shook hands. “Jake, nice to finally meet you. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to my club.” He turned to me, his gaze resting on my face, his expression sincere.

Chase extended his hand, which I shook. I nodded my head in greeting, a compromise between speaking and doing nothing. His deep brown eyes locked with mine for a moment. There was a curiosity there, that openness that drew me in. I had the strong sense this man never dealt in bullshit, regardless of the outcome. And somehow, in the context of this situation, I found that comforting.

He turned to Jake. “Let’s take a quick tour of the club. You can get the lay of the land, so to speak, and start to feel comfortable. Sometimes first visits can be overwhelming.”

Chase ushered us through the lounge area. “Something to drink? We have an excellent selection of imported mineral waters, sodas, and juices here in our lounge. No alcohol, but you already knew that.”

I didn’t, but I didn’t say anything. I declined Chase’s offer; I was too nervous, but Jake took a club soda. As we moved out of the room, I could feel the gazes of the men in the lounge sliding over me, along with looks from some of the women. It made me self-conscious for a moment, until I saw one of the men look at me and smile, briefly nodding his head. I turned back to listen Chase.

“People usually start out here, or gravitate back here after playing. There’s no nudity in this area; people use it kind of like a quiet zone, a decompression chamber or just a place to meet friends, see who’s here.”

Chase took us through a curtained archway and down a narrow hall. The sounds of music grew louder, along with other sounds; voices, some raised, a single muffled scream and then, much closer, the distinct sound of bare flesh being struck. A chill went through me, a brief flash of Jake’s punishment coming back, not a pleasant memory. I pushed it aside.

We passed another archway leading to a dance floor. There was a DJ spinning on a raised platform, and a fairly sizeable group of people dancing. The room was almost pitch black, the only lighting coming from the DJ platform and the flickering light from a few candles in glass holders on tables scattered along the edge of the room.

“Another popular place, although it usually is far more crowed later on. Again, no nudity in the dance area, but there’s a lot that goes on in the dark. Some members like to dance before to raise some energy; some are keyed up after a scene and like to dance to relax.”

The hallway took a turn and we moved down it past a series of doors, most with groups and couples gathered around them, some covered by curtains. Chase stopped in front of the first open door. The small group gathered moved aside for us.

“This is one of our scene rooms. If the curtains are back, it’s public. If they’re drawn as they are in some of the rooms down the hall, then it’s a private scene.”

I peered into the room, which was much larger than I imagined from the hall. And then I gasped.

There was a naked woman bent over a padded bench, her arms held out to her sides, tied to supports. A man dressed in completely in black leather was using a cane on her ass, striking her over and over, her ass bright red. As I watched, the man raised the cane again, bring it down across the woman’s ass.

She cried out, not in pain, but in pure pleasure. I caught a glance of her face. She looked like she was in rapture, her face wearing a blissful expression. I knew I was staring, but I was powerless to look away. The man was getting ready to strike her again when I felt Jake take my elbow.

“Come on, Abby.” Jake’s voice was low in my ear. I glanced at his face. In the dim light, I wasn’t sure if he was enjoying this or not. There was something unreadable in his expression.

But then Chase was leading us down the hall, past other rooms, some open, some curtained. I heard a variety of sounds, moans and gasps, stray words, Master or Sir among them. Behind one curtained arch I heard the distinctive grunts of a man fucking a woman...or maybe another man. I took a deep breath, concentrated on Jake’s hand on the small of my back and followed Chase further down the hall.

He took us to a one of the small rooms, pulling the curtain aside, gesturing for us to enter.

“Have you decided what you’d like to experience? We talked about me doing a scene with Abby....” He voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on Jake. I looked at Jake as well. It seemed surreal to know that these men had been talking about me, about this, without me being there.

Jake met my gaze, an unspoken question on his face. I nodded. If he wanted to share me, I was willing.

“Abby is fine with doing a scene with you, and with me watching.” Jake’s voice was neutral but his body was tense.

“Good.” Chase turned to me, that same easy smile on his face. “I’d like to do some rope play with you.”

My heart thudded, remembering the pictures I’d seen online of the intricate knots involved in rope bondage. I was excited to experience this, only a moment of panic intruding.

Chase explained briefly what he’d like to do in the scene: tie me with hemp ropes, in a symmetrical manner to a table, restraining me in such a way that allowed him to penetrate me, if that was the outcome of the scene.

“Sex isn’t always the outcome of a scene, although it can be. But with rope bondage, sometimes the goal is aesthetic, not sexual.”

His brown eyes swept over me. There was nothing hidden in that look at all; if Chase had his way, and I believed he would, there would be sex at the end of the scene.

“You can undress, put your clothes in the cabinet over there.” Chase was moving around the room, taking out ropes, placing them on a small table. Jake was standing in one corner of the room, watching intently.

The curtain at the door was still pulled back and I’d noticed one or two people looking in, curious expressions on their faces. I hesitated briefly, debating whether I wanted this to be public or private. It was my choice although no one had actually asked me.

But I remembered my brief walk through the lounge and the frankly admiring glances of the men, and women. They found me attractive; they found me pleasant to look at. There was nothing I needed to be ashamed of. I decided the scene would be public.

I undid the zippers on my skirt and corset, peeling them away from my body. I undid the clasps on the garter, slowly removing my stockings, tucking everything away into the cabinet.

Chase was done arranging the ropes. I stood off to the side, eyes lowered, waiting for instructions. He came to stand in front of me.

“I know you have a safe word you use with your Master, but for tonight we’re going to use green, yellow and red. I’ll ask you for a color, and if you’re fine, say green. If something bothers you, at any time, you may say yellow and tell me what it is. And if you want to stop, for any reason, any at all, you say red, any time you need to. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” It felt distinctly odd, but also strangely arousing, to call someone other than Jake Master. I glanced over at him but he didn’t return my look.

A smile played across Chase’s lips. He looked very pleased with himself, and with me. With a jolt, I realized I wanted him to say ‘good girl’, like Jake did. But he went on.

“Good. I’ll ask you periodically if you’re okay, if something’s too tight or if your arms or legs are getting numb or cold. Rope play has its risks. Be honest and tell me exactly what you feel. Ropes can cut off circulation or pinch nerves. If anything starts feeling unsafe, speak up. Say the color word or just tell me what’s happening. I’ve never had anyone be hurt in my club, and you’re not going to be the first. I take this very seriously and your safety is my responsibility. Do you understand?”

There was a waist-high table in the center of the room and Chase guided me to it, helping me up to sit on the end. The table was narrow, with two extensions on either side near the other end, making it look somewhat like a cross. I shifted my weight and suddenly had the panicky feeling I was going to fall off the table.

“Breathe, Abby. You’re fine.” Chase was looking down at me, still smiling. I managed a smile in return.

I heard him moving around behind me. He reappeared holding a white rope, doubled, in his hands.

“Okay. I’m going to start with your waist.” He wrapped the rope around me, gently straightening the rope, making it lay flat against my body. He wound the rope round my waist and up my torso several times, eventually tying it in front of me in a complicated looking knot. He ran the rope up my body, making more wraps beneath my breasts and then above them. From the back he ran one strand down either side of my shoulders, threading them beneath the ropes that ran around my chest.

The sensation of his warm hands contrasted with the slightly scratchy feeling of the rope. His fingers brushed against my breasts periodically, sending little frissons of pleasure coursing through my body.

With gentle but continuous force, he pulled the ropes tight. I could feel them pulling against my breasts, tugging them up and apart, squeezing them. I made a small noise.

“Are you alright, Abby? Give me a color.” Chase’s voice was instantly in my ear.

Chase tied the two ends of rope together in front of me. He then helped me lie back on the table.

My outstretched arms were tied to extensions, in a series of wraps and elegant knots. I could see them by turning my head and they were extraordinarily pretty.

Chase asked me again if I was okay and I said that I was. But this time there was something different in his voice. He’d moved to the end of the table between my legs and I glanced at his face.

“Your legs are next. Just relax.” He took one leg and then the other, bending and manipulating them, pulling them up and out, wrapping them with white rope. I was completely open and exposed, nothing hidden from anyone. I could feel cool air on my pussy, but the heat that had been building slowly in my body as Chase had been doing his magic with the ropes suddenly blossomed. I knew I was wet, knew Chase could see. And at that moment, I wanted him to see, wanted him to know how aroused I was.

He disappeared from my field of vision periodically, moving methodically through his tasks. I caught sight of his face at times and there was a rapt expression, as if he were meditating or in prayer. The occasional question to me came in a voice that had grown softer, lower. I wondered what effect this process had on him, how binding someone in a series of complex knots made him feel.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to mentally examine each part of my body, to feel the ropes against my skin, to tense and relax my muscles, testing my bonds. They were restrictive, but not tight. There was enough give in the ropes that I felt comfortable. I smiled at that thought; I was bound on a table, unable to move but was comfortable.

There was warmth against one breast and I opened my eyes as Chase began flicking his tongue over my distended nipple. There was an instant of profound sensation, bordering on pain, as he bit down lightly. I cried out, watching as he pulled the nipple with his teeth. He held it for a brief instant and then let go. He moved to the other side, repeated this and elicited the same response from me.

Bending his head, he licked and sucked his way across my breasts. The pressure of having them bound made them almost excruciatingly sensitive. Each breath, each flick of the tongue was more intense than the last. It wasn’t long before I was crying out with each brush of contact. There seemed to be no relief from Chase as he continued with this play.

And I found I didn’t want relief. I wanted more. But there was no way to arch against his mouth. I was totally under his control.

At length he moved away. I could hear movement and feel an occasional cool breeze across my heated skin. I knew he was there and I knew Jake was behind me somewhere, watching.

Then Chase was standing between my bound legs, looking down at me. With a start I realized he had taken off his clothes. I let my eyes travel over what was visible to me: a broad, heavily muscled chest covered in auburn hair, trailing down to a thatch at the apex of his thighs. Just visible was the head of a very erect cock, rising up from Chase’s body. And poised between my bound and spread legs.

There was no doubt the outcome of this scene and my body responded instantly with a flood of heat that only increased the wetness I felt between my legs. My breasts were throbbing, both from the ropes and from Chase’s attention to them.

The look on Chase’s face told me everything; that he knew exactly how I felt at that moment. His eyes were hot, so brown they almost looked black. He was breathing hard and fast, not gasping, his face relaxed, totally in control. In this moment, this was exactly what he wanted; I was exactly what he wanted. And he was going to take me, but on his own terms and in his own good time.

I felt his hands on my legs, caressing my thighs. Each brush of his fingers sent searing heat through my body, making my muscles twitch and contract. I strained against the ropes, felt the pressure of them digging into my skin, adding a counter-point of sensation to Chase’s fingers.

The tension in my body had me thrumming, almost vibrating. I was poised on the edge and all he’d done was tie me up and touch me. My eyes met his and with all my will I begged him to take me, silently urging him to fuck me, now, hard, release the tension my body held.

Given permission, the words tumbled out. “Oh, please, Master...oh, god, please...take me now! Please...please...” my words trailed off into incoherent pleas, ending in what sounded like a sob. I realized I was crying, tears running down my face.

Chase stood for a moment, watching me, his look telling me everything he was going to do.

Then he was in me, thrusting hard, his suddenness taking me by surprise. I cried out...I screamed. My body was held captive by the ropes; I couldn’t push back or away, twist or thrash. I had no choice but to give up any last illusions of control I thought I had. I stopped tensing against the ropes, let my body relax, let my mind stop focusing on what I was supposed to be doing or feeling.

And when I did that, everything changed, for the better. I let Chase have complete control, let him dominate me...trusted that he would make everything right. And it put me at the center of it all. I wasn’t able to move, to actively participate in this, but all of Chase’s attention was focused on me. The rush I got from that realization that was amazing.

The touch of the ropes on my skin faded away. I stopped focusing on Chase’s cock inside me although it was the center of everything I was feeling. But it was more than that now. Something shifted in my body and while I was aware—acutely aware—of each pounding thrust into me by Chase, it was no longer just my body that was responding. My mind stopped trying to register each physical sensation, to put a name to it. I just accepted it and felt it.

And then I felt everything, not individually but as one giant sensation. I stopped feeling the ropes on the surface of my skin but felt them on some deep cellular level. That melded with the pounding and thrusting of Chase in my body. And all that suddenly changed into just wave after wave of pure pleasure, with no apparent beginning or end. My mind went blank and my body took over.

I remember hearing my name being called from a distance. Chase was asking me for a color. A color? Um...

“Purple.” It was the color I was seeing splashed across the insides of my closed eyes.

“Abby, honey, give me a color.” It was Jake, close to my ear. I opened my eyes.

“Oh, green. Please, dear god...green.” I closed my eyes as the sensations started to fade away. I slowly came back to my body, felt the ropes biting into my skin. I realized Chase was no longer between my legs. I tried to look, to turn my head, but my body felt like someone else was controlling it and it wouldn’t respond.

There was a tugging at my arm and I realized Chase was untying me. As each limb was free, I moved it, experimentally at first, wiggling my fingers and toes, tensing and releasing my calf and thigh muscles, forearms and shoulders.

Finally they sat me up, Jake holding my arm, Chase undoing the knots with swift fingers. I closed my eyes, leaning against Jake, his solid warmth, his familiar scent in this strange place acting like an anchor for me.

When I was free of all the ropes, Jake helped me down from the table. My legs were shaky and I was starting to shiver, just as I had after my first session with Jake.

Then I was sitting in an oversized armchair, wrapped in a blanket. Jake was crouched at my feet, gently chafing my hands. He looked worried; a frown creased his forehead. I reached out and stroked his cheek.

“Shh...” he took my hand, kissing my fingers. “Don’t try to talk. You’re probably going to be hoarse for a while.”

Jake’s looked changed to one of mild surprise. “You really don’t remember, do you? Chase said you’d gone into subspace...” I shrugged, not knowing what that meant. Jake reached for a glass of juice from a nearby table and handed it to me. I drank greedily, the sharp tartness cutting through the residual fog in my mind.

“It’s hard to describe. Some people say it’s like an out-of-body type feeling, or they can’t remember what happened.” He was still holding my hand. I’d stopped shaking and now was intensely curious about what exactly had happened to me.

“What did I do? What happened to me?” Jake reached the glass, which I realized was empty.

“You went somewhere, Abby. Your body went limp, then you had some kind of huge orgasm that went on for the longest time. Chase asked you for a color, you know, green or red...and you said purple.” He smiled.

“That’s not one of the safe word colors. I panicked for a second, but then you told me green.”

I nodded. “I remember hearing your voice. That’s all. But, my voice? Did I make noises?”

Jake’s smile broadened. “You sure the hell did. Like none I’ve ever heard.”

Jake took me to his house. I had fallen asleep in the car and woke up as he pulled up beneath the portico. On autopilot, once he’d opened my door, I headed for the tower room door. But with his arm around me he gently steered me toward the door for the house. He guided me upstairs and into a large bedroom with a king-sized bed. Nice guest room.

He pulled back the covers, sitting me on the edge of the bed, taking off my shoes, gently undoing the zipper on my corset, kneeling in front of me briefly as he slid my skirt down my legs. I was dimly aware I was missing my stockings.

“Lay down, Abby.” I may have fallen asleep standing up. Without opening my eyes, I let Jake help me beneath the covers, pulling them up around my shoulders. I was aware of movement on the bed and then the dim light that had been the only light in the room went out.

Jake’s arms went around me, pulling me against his body. I snuggled against him, then struggled awake for a moment.

“You can sleep in your own room, Jake. You don’t have to sleep in here with me.”

I woke up to bright light and a large expanse of sheet between Jake and I. This bed is almost bigger than my apartment.

He was still sleeping, clutching a pillow to his chest. I slid across the bed, gently pulling the pillow out of his arms and replacing it with myself. Jake stirred briefly, then opened his eyes. There was a slow dreamy smile on his face. He reached out, brushing what must have been a tangled mess of hair from my forehead.

“Tired, still. But better...rested, I mean. My muscles feel sore, like I’ve been in the ring for ten rounds.”

He nodded, pulling me close. “I can imagine. You went through a lot last night.”

“Did you enjoy yourself, Abby?” His voice was light, his question innocent enough, but there was something underlying it that made me tense up.

“I think I did. It’s too soon to tell.” And it really was. There was a great deal to think about, to try to understand.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Jake?” I tried to look up at him, but he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. There was a long pause, as if he was choosing his words with care.

“Let’s say I learned a lot.” His voice was tense. I pushed away from Jake, sitting up next to him.

“What do you mean? What did you learn? This affects both of us, not just you.”

Jake looked up at me for a moment, then pushed himself up to sit next to me. He took a deep breath but wouldn’t look at me for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, hesitant. This wasn’t the Jake I was used to. I waited.

“When I saw you last night with Chase, when he was fucking you...I realized I didn’t want that...didn’t want to share you with another man, even in the context of a scene at a club.”

He looked at me. There was vulnerability in his eyes. Something had changed tonight in Jake, something important and vital, and I wasn’t sure where this was headed.

“Jake, you could have stopped the whole thing. You were there; you could have stopped Chase.”

He took another deep breath. “I know. But you were so...you were enjoying it so much I didn’t want to take that away from you.” He turned to me.

I let myself into my apartment, tossing my keys on the coffee table. I’d been gone less than twenty-four hours but it seemed as though a lifetime had gone by.

My relationship with Jake had changed. For the better, I wasn’t sure, but it had been irreversibly changed by our visit to Chase’s club.

And deep down, I realized that I quite possibly loved him as well. Although in the moment, I wasn’t brave enough to admit it to him. But he didn’t seem to need me to say the words. I realized he still needed to control the situation, to be the one to take the lead, even in showing his vulnerable side. Even admitting he loved me. And for now, I was okay with that.

Jake was a puzzle; it seemed there would always be something deep and inscrutable between us that I couldn’t quite reach, something he held deeply guarded from me, maybe even from himself. I didn’t know.

He’d hinted in our first meeting at a ‘dark period’ in his past. Did it have something to do with being a Dom?

There was something so tightly controlled about Jake. It was almost as if he had secrets or experiences that made it impossible to just let go, to be vulnerable, even when still in full control. And at every session, I couldn’t help but feel as though he hid another side of himself from me. That he took his memories, his secrets and put them – and the fear they created in him – away in a box, locked it tightly and then pushed it away. From the tortured look that I’d seen in his eyes, I had no doubt that he always knew where that box was, knew how to find it, even in the dark. I wasn’t sure if it was the secrets he was afraid of...or the fear itself.

And I realized with a start, it really didn’t matter. We all had secrets, carried baggage, kept things hidden. Who was I to make Jake reveal what he didn’t...or couldn’t...tell me?

And in understanding that, I realized I could love Jake for who he was, right at this moment. I may come to regret not knowing whatever his secrets were, but for now, I was happy.

On the way to take a shower, I saw there were a couple messages on my answering machine. Probably Leslie.

I sighed, hitting play. The first was a hang up, but when the second one began I froze.

It was Chase. His voice sounded strange in my apartment, almost like an intrusion, but one that made my heart thump and my stomach muscles clench in memory. At first his words made no sense so I hit replay.

‘Abby, this is Chase. I just wanted to let you know that I have your collar. I took it off during our session for safety reasons and forgot to hand it back to you.’

My hand flew to my bare neck. There was a pause during the message and I thought Chase had simply hung up until I heard his voice again. This time it rumbled through the speaker in a low, deep growl.

“I had a great time with you last night Abby. If you’re ever interested in coming back to the club as my guest, I’d love to see you again.”

My finger hovered over the erase button for a long time, as I found myself lost in the memory of the previous night. I finally turned away.

Chase and Jake are about to go head-to-head in a merciless fight to win Abby’s heart.

Jake is an inexperienced Dom, intrigued by the idea that he could hold so much power over a woman, especially one as beautiful as the curvy, plus-size beauty Abby Phillips.

BDSM club owner, Chase Thomas is an aggressive alpha male who doesn’t take no for an answer, and where Jake is still finding his way into the world of domination, Chase is a skilled and experienced Dom, willing to take Abby beyond the realm of simple desire and into a world of never-ending pleasure that is unlike anything she has ever known.

Abby finds herself caught between two very different, yet equally powerful men, both beautifully broken in their own way. It doesn’t take long before Abby discovers that there is only one way out – she must choose to serve only one of them.

What will Abby do when she is forced to say goodbye to either Jake or Chase? And what will happen when the beautiful submissive discovers that she just might be the one in full and complete control?

Find out in “Stripped”, part two in the riveting “Guilty Pleasures” series!