Chapter 6
The next time I saw M was at a local pub she'd asked me to meet her at.
Not the posh kind with craft beers and weirdly expensive snacks. This one had a sticky carpet, the smell of old wood varnish mixed with stale ale and faint chip fat, and one of those fruit machines wheezing in the corner like it was dying a slow death, or maybe that was just the bloke feeding it his week's wages with a glazed look in his eyes.
The place buzzed with low conversation, the clink of pint glasses, and the occasional screech of a chair dragging across the floor. Somewhere near the bar, someone laughed too loud at something that probably wasn't funny. A telly on mute played old highlights from a Premier League game nobody was watching.
She was in a booth at the back, the kind with cracked leather seats and a view of everything. A glass of champagne in front of her, because of course it was champagne, and a book in her hand like she didn't know she was single handedly rearranging my brain chemistry.
What kind of person drinks champagne in a place like this? A terrifying one, that's who.
I'll be honest, I was very surprised why she'd picked such a grubby pub, also, so close to my flat.
I walked over, trying to act normal. Not like I'd just spent three minutes outside wondering if I was meant to kneel or say "Miss" or what not.
"You're early" I said, sliding into the stiff seat across from her.
"Nope. You're late" she said, not even looking up.
"Alright, fair enough. Blame the trains. Transport For London nearly killed me."
She smiled a bit, but didn't say anything. I could see something in her eyes, though. Like she was keeping track. Like I'd just added something to some secret list she was building in her head.
"You'll pay for that later" she said, still flipping a page. Somewhat like how I'd just flipped her temper mildly.
And I smiled like a proper idiot.
After a pint and a bit of foot stuff under the table that nearly gave me a stroke, she leaned in and said "We're not going back to mine tonight."
"Oh?"
"Mhm. We're going to yours."
Now, my flat's not awful. But compared to her place? It's like a panic attack with shelves. Bit of IKEA, bit of whatever I found online during lockdown, and a lot of laundry in corners I pretend not to see.
"You sure? It's not exactly fancy" I said, thinking about my crusty kettle and the weird smell in the hallway I still hadn't found the source of.
"I'm sure" she said. "I want to see where you hide."
That sentence hit me straight in the gut. Not in a bad way. Just... deep.
Chapter 7
When we got in, she didn't say much. Just walked around slowly, looking at everything. Like when you get a pet dog and it's checking which personal belonging to piss on first.
Not in a rude way. More like she was... learning me.
She looked just as stunning from behind. Every so often, I had to resist the urge to wrap her up in a big bear hug from behind and hold her like I never wanted to let go.
Which would probably get me slapped. And not in the good way.
She spotted the photo of me and Mum on the bookshelf, the cracked "Tech Wizard" mug, and the sad avocado plant I keep trying to keep alive even though it's clearly given up on life, I'll blame it on the vape fumes from the shop, over my lack of care.
Then she turned around and said "Strip."
I blinked. "Wow. Bit romantic."
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you always talk back when you're supposed to be on your knees?"
"Only after a Guinness," I mumbled, already taking my hoodie off.
Note to self! never drink Guinness before submission. Makes me chatty.
She moved in, put her hand on my chest, and pushed me gently till I was sitting on the bed. Then she just stood there for a second, watching me.
"Tonight we're playing with ownership. With edges. And consequences" she said, voice lower than usual.
It all felt... intense. But right.
She tested me. Played with how far I'd go. Slapped the inside of my thighs when I got cheeky. Said things that made me feel both small and safe at the same time. Like she saw the parts I usually hide and didn't mind them.
Even the bit of belly I suck in when I walk past mirrors.
"Stay there." She commanded. Walking over to her fairly large handbag, grabbing some rope from it.
"Hands up, to the bedframe" She sternly demanded. Removing her clothing and just letting it join the pile I'd already built up.
M climbed on top of me, straddling my chest with a slow, deliberate pressure that made my breath catch. Her skin was warm against mine, her thighs pinning me in place. She took each wrist in her hands, and I felt the soft brush of rope, then the sudden tug tight, unforgiving, but calculated. Not enough to cut off circulation. Just enough to remind
I couldn't move unless she allowed it.
She wiggled her hips, pushing her crotch closer and closer to my face. Before revealing the ballgag she'd somehow hidden right next to where I lay. Draping it into my mouth before lifting my head to fasten it securely.
"This thing has gotten you into enough trouble today, so I'm taking it away."
Then came the bit I really didn't expect, as she lowered her mouth closer to my ear and whispered.
"Bambi."
I flinched. Proper flinched. Not because it hurt, but because I knew that name. And I didn't think I'd ever hear it again.
It was from ages ago. Some girl at work in HR called me that once, because I fell flat on my arse whilst entering the building and tripping on the step. Thought it was funny. I didn't, neither did my arse.
But, no way. No way this was the same woman?!
I looked up at M, confused. "whht... ho mm youh know tha?" Muffled by the mouthpiece.
She smiled. Slow. Like a cat with a mouse, as she began to lower herself onto my face, applying light pressure.
Instant frustration, knowing I could fully smell her heavenly scent, yet not taste a single thing.
"I told you," she said, soft as anything, "I've been watching you longer than you think."
She briefly lifted herself, allowing a few breaths before tucking my nose straight back.
"You work three floors below me."
I swear my brain just... paused.
"I'm a shadow project manager" she said, eyes flicking down to meet mine.
She paused for a moment, tilting her head slightly as I tried to pull my hands free.
"The first time I stumbled across your profile on that kink site, I was so surprised to see you. Even more surprised you didn't recognise me the first time you came to my place."
I tried to use my tongue to push the gag out enough to speak, but it was useless. As it didn't even budge.
She smirked. "Better shoes and you wouldn't trip so harshly"
I should've been embarrassed. Instead I was hard. And very confused.
Also, slightly paranoid about all the dodgy emails I'd forwarded to myself from my work inbox.
"Relax, pup" she said, slightly grinding her hips, pressing my face slightly deeper. "I'm not here for your job."
"I don't mix business and pleasure," she said, slightly raising herself off me again whilst dragging her nails gently down my chest, "unless I know exactly what I'm doing."
I gulped. "Sho you've jus been... upshhairs thish whole time? Watchin me fix prinners?"
"No. I've been observing" she said. "How you shrink when people talk over you. How you joke when you're nervous. How you help everyone even when you're shattered."
Then she whispered, right by my ear, "That's not lurking. That's curiosity."
And then, "And curiosity is the first step to possession."
