My name is Victoria Daniels and what I'm about to tell you is true. Life is often stranger than fiction. For me it started with a short cut--a means to end.
See, I was about to start law school and knew that meeting someone and maintaining a relationship would be nearly impossible. The thought of even a few more frustrated, sexless years was more than I could bear, but I didn't have time for the meet and greet, the get to know you, or the drama.
I didn't need to care if he liked my taste in music or books, or if I liked his. All I really cared about was if he liked my taste in sex. And to be honest, I wasn't experienced enough to even know what my taste was, but I was about to find out and fast.
I lay in bed naked and wanting and as my hands eased over my body, I wondered what it was I really wanted. So often women never consider this. They meet a man, fall into a sexual habit, and lose sight of or never think about what they'd honestly want.
I have an analytical mind. A smarty-pants. A nerd. A person sex never came easy to. I think too much, and it often gets in the way of the big O. This time when my hand stopped rolling the nipple of my left breast, I decided I was going to imagine every last thing I'd like to happen to me sexually. I was going to write them down and then actively seek a sexual partner who I could explore fantasies with. Not someone to love or someone to marry, but someone to satisfy and someone who could satisfy me.
These are my journeys of self-discovery and my dates with the Dom. My first revelation was the fact that the multitude of mundane decisions I made on a daily basis zapped my energy. The bedroom seemed like a good place to relinquish command. I wanted things to happen to me. I wanted to surrender control so without guilt, shame, or choice, I could actually enjoy sex and maybe, just maybe, not think away arousal.
I'd heard the term before: submissive. It always made me think of some mindless woman. I mean, really, what sane woman would completely submit to a man?
That's how my research started. I got on the Internet and looked up the terms Submissive and Dominant, found sites where people who lived the lifestyle existed, and set up a profile.
If I had it to do over again I might have done a bit more research first. Read more before I set up my profile, looked at what others were interested in. But no, I slapped on a profile and waited. Within two days the emails started. Um, yeah, I'm in law school so I'm not stupid. I didn't give my regular email. I set up a phony one. I became an 'Erotic Writer.'
I didn't want to give a fake name in case I decided to meet the person, so I went with what I knew I was going to do. I wanted to exchange fantasies until I could find a match. A person who I could live them with.
I thought my partner would get me through what was sure to be a tough period of my life, and then I'd move on to a normal existence. What is normal anyway?
The fuck I'll ever find out now. My normal will never again be the average. It took me a week or so to meet Michael. Compared to some of the people I exchanged stories with, Michael seemed almost as vanilla as I was. Curious, intelligent, and exploring the way I was. The difference between us was he knew what he wanted. He'd always known and had started his sexual exploits as a Dominant. After about the third fantasy exchange, I knew I wanted him to do the things I dreamed of, wanted to please him in ways I'd never pleased another man.
Only I had a problem. I hadn't exactly been honest with Michael. Well, I had in the fantasies, but not in the reality. I had told him I was a student. What I hadn't told him was I had taken twenty years off between college and law school.
He thought he was getting a twenty-two year old fairly innocent, when in fact, he was getting a forty-three year old one instead. How the hell could I meet him? One look at my body and he'd surely be disappointed.
I had children of my own in college. My divorce had just become final and I put my half of the house in a savings account, got a tiny apartment, and moved on to my dream of law school and of real sex.
I wasn't a virgin when I married my ex, but my few unskilled lovers did little to increase my expertise in carnal knowledge. No 'Studly-Do-Right' ignited a grand passion in me and since my ex was a get on, get off and roll over kind of guy, I'd had a lifetime of wanting, a lifetime of imagining.
But why hadn't I told the truth? I asked myself that as I sat waiting in Starbucks. I'd told Michael exactly what I would be wearing down to the earrings. I figured he'd look at me and move on, disappointed or pissed off that I'd lied. Or maybe he'd fuck me anyway. Pick a fantasy of his and go one round just for the hell of it.
Every younger man that walked in made my pussy throb more. Could this be the man who'd maybe take control?
Deep down I knew in about an hour I'd be creating another profile, one that wouldn't lie. Then I heard a voice. "Is this seat taken?"
I looked up at the man standing in front of me and wondered why the hell he'd picked the chair next to me when there were still plenty available.
"I'm waiting for someone," I managed to say calmly despite the emotion that bubbled beneath the surface.
The corner of his mouth turned up. "I'm here to meet a writer."
The shock of his smile overwhelmed me. I should have realized a young man could never have pulled off the emails he wrote me. Maybe I wouldn't be such a disappointment after all.
"Michael?" I asked wide-eyed.
He nodded. "Are you my erotic writer?" There was something in the way he said 'my' like I already belonged to him and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that although he had never touched me, he owned me. I belonged to him in a way that I had never--would never--could never--belong to any other man.
I could feel the blush spreading up my neck and over my face. This man knew my innermost fantasies. Things I had only just admitted to myself.
His brown eyes twinkled and he sat down. The way he looked at me warmed me from the inside out. Proprietary and thick with desire.
"Looks like we both lied. Are you disappointed?" I asked.
"Not at all. You?"
I shook my head. And I meant it. In many ways I was relieved that he was an older man. A man even older than I was. I didn't have to worry about him finding me unattractive because of my age. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why I had lied in the first place. Except at first I didn't think I'd have the courage to go through with it. In the beginning my brain pretended the correspondence would be enough.
"I wasn't sure I'd go beyond the emails," I said as an excuse.
"I knew you weren't a kid from the chat room. I set up a new profile so I could talk to you. I wasn't sure if you really wanted some young guy or not, but figured with your intellect you'd get bored with the twenties crowd pretty quick and then settle in with me."
"We haven't exactly had sex yet."
"Of course we have. We just weren't in the same room when it happened." He paused for a second and then added, "Yet."
That one word made me shiver. He was right. We'd sent each other our deepest desires and agreed to meet to enact them. This was the next step and my body thrummed with excitement.
He plugged his computer into the wall and opened a word document. "Now we agreed we'd set up a contract. He took out an envelope from his briefcase and handed it to me. His STD free form. I glanced at it and handed him my clean bill of health.
Holy shit, we were really doing this. Calm, cool, and collected, we discussed and typed out a sexual contract.
"We agree for the next eight weeks we will meet once a week for the purpose of sexual congress and that during this time neither one of us will have sexual relations with another person?"
"Agreed." Had I really just said that?
As he typed he spoke in a businesslike, professional, unemotional manner. "And during this time period we will email the night before and the night after the visitation for instructions and reflections?"
I nodded. "Agreed."
"For the purpose of the eight meetings we will follow out the fantasy for the day or evening as it may be and will use safe words in case you at any time feel uncomfortable?"
I nodded again, this time too nervous to use my voice.
"And as a submissive partner, for the duration of our contract you will surrender your body to me?" He didn't just glance at me for consent this time. His fingers stopped moving on the keyboard and he looked directly into my eyes awaiting a response.
I swallowed hard. My mouth seemed suddenly dry and hard to open. He waited patiently without condemnation. If I had said no, he would have packed up without any hard feelings. I could tell.
"Yes." A mere whisper of a response, but one that had him grinning.
"That's my girl. This might be a good time for you to tell me your name. Real first name. You don't have to tell me the last at all."
I hesitated, but there didn't seem to be any point in lying. Since I'd be having sex with this man, it might be nice if he called out the right name. "Victoria."
"Like a queen," he said.
"I don't think she was very submissive."
"Notoriety in itself takes away a person's power to be," he paused as if he were searching for the right word but couldn't find it. He shook his head "You can't be yourself when the whole world is watching. You have to hide your weaknesses and your pain."
I understood that kind of powerless. It was who I was when my husband of nineteen years decided he no longer loved me. "I understand completely."
He looked like he didn't believe me, but didn't argue. "Okay, we were to submit five fantasies each and could take out the two we liked the least. I'm going to give you the remaining eight to peruse so that if there are some you would prefer to do after we have known each other a little longer and there is established trust, then we can put those at the end. Other than that, we'll put each fantasy in an envelope and won't know until the night before which fantasy we'll be performing."
He handed me the fantasies and I scanned through them. I separated them into first half and second. "These first four can go in any order. The others can go in any order after the first four. Does that work for you?"
"Are they mixed in terms of yours and mine?" he asked.
I looked through them again. "Three of yours in the first four. Three of mine in the second. Mine are a little scarier than yours." I glanced down not able to meet his eyes.
"You find that odd?"
The sound of his voice made my body tingle. How could I admit it unnerved me that my fantasies were kinkier than his? "No, not really," I lied.
"So this is going to happen. You're not going to renege after you think it over?" His gaze held on to mine as if he could somehow discern the real answer from my expression.
I'd have to be crazy to go through with this. But then again, so would he. We didn't know anything about each other and we planned on acting out our erotic fantasies, stripping down and fucking, down and dirty, without even finding out if we liked each other. Who was I kidding? We knew we'd get along from the chat room and the dozens upon dozens of emails. "No. I want this."
He held out his hand, palm up, waiting. I placed my hand in his and the physical connection sealed the deal. We'd connected emotionally over the past two weeks, and we had joined in every way but the physical.
"One week from today my hands will touch every inch of you inside and out."
My nipples puckered. He was a head turner and the thought of him touching me, fucking me, made my entire body tingle with need. "We could start tonight, couldn't we?"
He squeezed my hand and laughed. "No. It's important that you spend the week thinking, wondering what fantasy it will be. I want your body primed for mine. I want you so orgasmic that the mere sound of my voice is enough to get you off." His voice was low, seductive, and sexual.
"Pretty close now. I'm not kidding."
"I want you too. So much right now my balls ache with it. But I make the decisions, remember? And we're sticking to the fantasies. After the eight weeks we can renegotiate. At that point we can continue with or without the set fantasies. But for the next eight weeks, we follow the contract. Agreed?" He rubbed his thumb across the center of my palm. I tried to pull my hand away but he held on asserting his control already.
Fuck no, I wanted to say. I bit back a snarky remark and gave him the only response that would get him in my bed. "Of course."
He removed his hand from mine and stood up. "We should still email everyday until our first date. After that, we follow the contract--one email before and one email after. No more for the rest of the week. Leaves us the time we need in our schedules without things getting complicated and also boosts anticipation." He unplugged the computer and placed it in his bag. "I'll email the contract as an attachment."
I didn't want him to leave. Didn't want him to walk away from me. What if I never heard from him again? "I'm not sure what to say, pleasure doing business with you?" My sarcasm slipped out and I could tell from his expression I'd have to learn to keep it in check. This might be more difficult than I originally thought.
"It will be a pleasure, my Victoria. I promise you that." His eyes glanced down to my breasts and I moved my arms to cross them in front of my chest. "Don't." The one word, low and commanding, caused me to drop my arms at once. "I love that your nipples are so hard I can see them through your dress. I can't wait until they are naked and exposed to my hands and mouth. Perhaps next Saturday?"
He smiled then and kissed the top of my head, then he walked away.
That week was the most torturous I had spent in a long time. The week my ex-husband left me hadn't even seemed so long. What would happen? Which fantasy would be the first one? The thoughts and the emails that ensued that week kept me in a state of constant arousal. I knew by the time I actually met him it wouldn't take much for me to go over and I knew the first four in the line-up so the anticipation heightened. Friday night the email came. Wear a dress, no bra, no underwear. Okay, that still could have been more than one of the fantasies in the collection. Then I read the next line. Meet him at Club Maxx, a nightclub. Dancing. That meant my fantasy of Ben Wa balls.
I'd heard about them, but wondered if they could produce the sensations that were promised. In less than twenty-four hours, I'd know.
The next night I washed and dressed with care. I shaved every inch of hair away. I slipped into one of the sexiest dresses I could find, and set off for my first adventure. The one that would change my life. I was going to meet a man I hardly knew for sex and nothing more than sex. At least that's what I thought. What happened instead was the most liberating, life defining night of my entire life.
It was the night I became me. The real me. Not the one that had only existed for the past umpteenth thousand years.
I met Michael in front of the club and his eyes perused me and seemed to like what he saw. He looked handsome and all I could think of was, before the night was over, this man would be inside me.
A soft breeze lifted the bottom of my dress and my hands quickly held it down. Michael's eyes twinkled with amusement. He knew as well as I did that had it gone up an entire line of people would have had a birds eye view of my ass.
His hand went around my side and rested on the small of my back. He paid for us to get in and we found a small table next to the wall. Nestled in the darkest corner, it provided the most privacy.
Michael pulled a necklace from his pocket, a thick wide width of gold that would fit around my neck like a collar. "I'm going to put this on you at the start of each of our adventures and take it off at the end of the fantasy. It's a reminder that the role play is on."
I leaned in to him and he clasped it around my neck, running his finger along the length of it. "Now you're mine." He smiled with the excitement of a child who just received a puppy for Christmas, and I wondered if he thought of me as a pet? "How are we going to manage this?" I asked thinking of what was to come.
"Relax. We haven't even ordered drinks yet."
A waitress came over and we did just that. Michael started a conversation about the traffic earlier and the accident that caused it. As we talked of mundane things and the situation started feeling more like a date, I saw him slip a small package out of his jacket, open it, and bring the balls under the table. "Scoot closer to me," he said.
I moved closer and reached for the balls thinking maybe I'd stick them in my purse and go to the rest room.
He tapped my hand with his and shook his head. His hand started a slow trek up my leg under my dress. He leaned in to me. "Bring your ass to the edge of the chair and spread your legs wide."
Holy shit, he was going to insert the balls right here at the table! Not that anyone could really see. It was dark and all the action was taking place under the table. But I knew what he planned.
"This is just the first of many things I will command you to do. It's not a question, Victoria. You must obey."
I laughed nervously. "Must? There are still the safe words."
"Those words are only to be used if you're afraid or need more clarification. They're not words for you to lightly throw around."
I hated the disappointment I saw in his eyes. More than anything I wanted to please him and that gave me courage. "I understand. Remember, this is my first voyage."
He nodded briefly, but didn't postpone the inevitable. "Give me your pussy now."
My hands clasped the sides of the chair to stop shaking as I slid my butt down to the edge of the seat. The wider I opened my legs, the faster my heart pounded. The feather-light touch of Michael's hand inched its ascent until it reached my lips. The tip of his finger slid slightly into my slit, coaxing. It circled around my clit and cajoled until my juices flowed like honey.
As soon as I was wet enough he inserted the Ben Wa balls and removed his fingers from my pussy. "Now clench the walls shut. This is important when you get up and while we're dancing you must clamp them tight together to keep them in."
I clamped down on them, jailing them inside me as the waitress approached with our drinks. We sat there, sipping and chatting, as if we were no more than a run-of-the-mill couple. I was just an average female there on a simple date.
Yeah, right. How many of them had no underwear on and two one inch weighted balls stuffed inside them. I'd be willing to bet none.
A slow song came on and Michael stood. "Time to start the dance. As carefully as I could, I stood, gritting down on my vaginal walls for all they were worth. His hand held mine, gentle yet secure, and he led me to the dance floor.
Michael pulled me close. The clean fresh aroma of his clothes mixed with his own masculine scent would from that moment on remind me of lust and yearning. Our bodies swayed, and the weight of the balls rotated inside me. He'd tucked one up next to the G zone and it was sending some serious sensations.
The slow number switched to a fast one, and the anxiety must have shown in my face.
"Don't worry. Just clench and stay close to me." He kept his hand on the small of my back and we were close enough that our dance was more of a grind, very much like many other couples on the dance floor.
His hand squeezed my ass and pulled me flat up against his erection letting me know what I'd get later. The pressure as it moved against my clit under just a thin layer of cloth increased my arousal until my breath became more labored.
The tightening in my crotch increased until my body stiffened and a moan escaped. His mouth descended upon mine to catch the next one. As my pussy convulsed and orgasm tore through me, the taste of whiskey on his tongue tantalized my mouth. I shuddered and quaked in his arms and melted against him.
"Beautiful. My sweet, sweet girl. I'm so pleased with you," he murmured into my ear.
The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a soft clunk, and I groaned. My eyes glanced down to the floor and his followed mine.
There in the middle of the dance floor, rolling away from us, were the sticky Ben Wa balls that had only a moment before brought me to orgasm.
I can't imagine the expression of horror on my face, but Michael leaned in and whispered. "Well, we won't be using that set again. Looks like I'll have to buy you another. Please be a little more careful next time, darling." And then, hard as he tried to contain it, he started laughing. After the initial shock, I found the amusement in it and joined him as he pulled me toward the front door.
We couldn't get out fast enough. Once outside we leaned against the building and laughed for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn't ever remember being so lighthearted, so happy.
We stood grinning at each other, two kids in adult bodies. His mouth met mine sending shivers through my body. The taste, the scent of him assailed my senses until he was all there was.
His hand reached my breast and rubbed the nipple through the cloth. "I won't break with this first one, especially since it's your fantasy, but next time I think we should base the night loosely on the fantasy. We don't have to follow the exact order as long as we complete the deeds. Come on, time for the encore."
I knew what he meant. It was time for him to fuck me and my pussy throbbed with want. We walked quietly to the back of the parking lot and found his car.
Since it was in the middle of the evening, there was no movement in the lot. Too late for people to be arriving and too early for them to be leaving.
The moon wasn't full like it was in my fantasy, but it was close enough. The sky was dark and Michael had parked his car as far away from any of the lights as possible.
He pressed me up against his car, and stood behind me, kissing my neck. The sound of my dress unzipping seemed to echo through the night, a prelude to his hands sliding from my shoulders down to my breasts. "Just because it wasn't spelled out in the fantasy doesn't mean I can't touch. I've wanted to feel them all night." My nipples hardened at his touch. "Good girl. They ache for me, don't they?"
I wasn't sure if it was rhetorical or not, so I answered just in case. "Yes."
A little rumble of a bit back laugh escaped him. One hand slid down beneath my dress and toyed with my pussy, stroking and flaming the fire. When his hands abandoned my half-clad body, the cool night air dotted it with goose bumps until I heard the foil rip and the movement of him sheathing his cock.
"Spread your legs more, that's my good Victoria. Bend a bit, yes." The tip of his cock nudged my opening so that just the head entered me. I groaned and wiggled trying to impale myself. It was real. My cock less days were over. The slow journey to my core was maddening. I wanted to scream with joy and plead with him to move a bit more quickly.
Finally, he filled me completely. "Now you're mine, Victoria. Completely mine. Only my cock will fill you and I will fill you once a week for the next eight weeks. When I'm not having sex with you, you will not have sex of any kind. You will not masturbate unless you do so in front of me at my command."
He pumped into me slowly, deliberately, mastering my body, claiming it as his own. "I am your Master now. Say it for me. Tell me who I am." He thrust into me hard to show his command must be met.
"I belong to you, Michael. You are my master."
I groaned for as soon as the words left my lips, I knew they were true. As if a load had been lightened from my shoulders, a sense of freedom enveloped me, a freedom to be who I was meant to be. He would give me orgasms, allow me to have them the way I had never allowed myself. He had taken the choice away from me, taken away the guilt and the fear. My pussy spasmed and I groaned.
"Open your mouth, Victoria. Let the sound out."
I did and my orgasm hit harder. "That's it baby, no holding back. Not ever with me." His voice tightened and I could feel the jerk of his cock as his orgasm hit.
He kept his arms around me and kissed along my neck and shoulder. Then I heard the zip of his pants and the zip of my dress. He placed my hand in his. "Let me walk you to your car."
Once again goose bumps arose on my arms and I shivered. What if it was all a lie and he never meant to see me again? What if the whole thing had been just a ploy to get laid?
We reached my car and I looked down to the pavement afraid of what I might see in his eyes. He reached around my neck and unclasped the necklace. My eyes welled up and I whimpered.
He kissed the top of my head. "Taking off the necklace just means the role play has ended for the night. It doesn't mean we have. You are still mine. Don't think for a moment I'd give you up so easily."
The tears came for real then and humiliation followed. I'd fucked some man I hardly knew and was getting upset that he might leave me. Leave me, like my ex. Leave me, when I barely knew him to begin with and had no hold on him.
He kissed at my tears, licking them off my face. "Let me take your sorrow, Victoria. Let me take it all away from you and give you pleasure instead.
I sighed. "Michael. . . . " I couldn't formulate a sentence. Had no idea what I even wanted to say.
"Do you enjoy being mine, Victoria?"
"Yes. I want to be yours. I'm grateful I'm yours."
He kissed me then, hard and breathless. "I'll email you tomorrow and then no communication until Thursday night when I open the envelope." He kissed the tip of my nose, turned and walked away.
I drove home in a fog trying to make sense of the night. I'd fucked a man I'd only met once, believed he somehow had possession of me in some intangible way, and had two raging orgasms. Most importantly, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the glory I basked in would return in exactly one week. But what would my next date with the Dom require of me? I smiled with anticipation.