Domination

Chapter One

I guess the whole thing started on a whim. Or not a whim, exactly, but more of an experiment. It was an idea that grew slowly over time, building on itself as the years went by. It was a slow burn. It took time for that fire to smolder its way through me, building first to a flame and then to an all-out blaze. Finally, when I was desperate enough for money and feeling really low, it seized me and it didn't let go. Even now, it threatens to consume me. I try to distance myself from it, to intellectualize. Otherwise, I might be consumed completely.

Maybe things really began way back when I was in the tenth grade. It was probably earlier, if you buy what Freud has to say about parents and sexuality, but this is the first time I can remember becoming interested. I had this friend, a close guy friend, in high school. He had always been kind of a funny guy, prone to unique tastes and even stranger desires.

One day after class, I grabbed the keys clipped to his backpack because something about it had caught my eye. One key was not like the others, and I held it up before him between thumb and forefinger, asking teasingly, "Why do you have a handcuff key?" I had a hunch about why he had it, but I wanted him to say it. We had often had late-night chats about his proclivities. He had always had a girlfriend then, but we talked as if he didn't.

It was the sort of thing I did when I was a teenager - flirting with men who were unavailable. I liked to play-act the femme fatale, embodying whatever I thought they wanted. My instincts on things like this never led me wrong, and I would often find myself stepping into a role with my male friends that even I didn't understand until we entered the territory of sex in our conversations. It was something I have always been able to intuit without effort. Sometimes, their secret desires would come to me in dreams. I would wake then, my panties wet, and store away this information until it became useful. It was frequently useful. It had never occurred to me back then that what I really enjoyed was the power. Or, more specifically, the interplay between my power and their power - that intricate game of wanting, not getting, and wanting even more.

Anyway, Jake had blushed furiously then, and told me to mind my own business. I had dogged him to his locker and poked him in the side. "Girlfriend like to play rough?" I'd teased, feeling a warmth spreading in my own belly. "You let her lock you up?"

He just smiled and looked at me in this funny way, like I had unwittingly said something that he hadn't wanted me to know. It had been hard for me to imagine at the time that all our talk of the tactile pleasure of women's stockings and the deliciousness of delayed orgasm had kept anything hidden. It had, though. Taunting him about that key hit a nerve that he had hoped I would never discover. He guarded it closely.

We had parted ways to sit through our separate classes then. I had burned with curiosity for the rest of the day, but hadn't run into him again at lunch or in the hallways. After school, I had hurried home and signed onto IM, waiting for his screen name to appear so I could delve a little deeper into whatever it was that he was trying to hide. When I heard the little door creaking sound that signaled he had signed on, I had quickly closed my geometry book and rushed over to the computer.

blackstargurl: hey

cha0stheory:: hi

blackstargurl: sup?

cha0stheory: nm. doin smith's paper. ugh.

blackstargurl: yah, haven't even started yet. not lookin forward it. newayz, what's with the handcuff key?

cha0stheory: ...

blackstargurl: come on...

cha0stheory: nothin

blackstargurl: orly? cmon jake, u kno u want to tell me

blackstargurl: we're friends, rite?

cha0stheory my gf wouldn't be happy

blackstargurl: that crazy bitch? y do u care wat she thinks?

cha0stheory: bec, she's my gf. i care.

blackstargurl: does she kno wat we talk about sometimes?

cha0stheory: ...

cha0stheory: y would i tell her that?

cha0stheory: u kno she has a temper. u want me to get my ass dumped?

blackstargurl: u don't want to tell me? FINE.

I had signed off with a flounce, not sure why I was so deeply annoyed by his reluctance to expose this nerve to me. It was around that time that our relationship had drifted decidedly more toward the platonic. Whenever he had tried to talk about his fantasies, or mentioned that he was hard and sitting there with cock in hand, I would refuse to talk to him about it and sign off. It was a struggle for me not to engage, but I wanted to keep the upper hand. I dangled his girlfriend's name before me like a talisman, feeling embittered and enraged by his insistence on using me like this without fully letting me in. "Lani wouldn't be happy," I would reply to his overtures. Eventually, he stopped.

When he went to college, our friendship had begun to drift into ever-more-boring territory. He had been a few years ahead of me in school, and we had only shared English classes because my mother had insisted that I be given more advanced coursework. He decided to go to a tiny liberal arts school a few hours away from where we lived, because he didn't want to go to a state school. Plus, they gave him full funding, so it was an offer that he couldn't refuse.

Even though I had put the kibosh on our budding discussions of sex, I spent every waking moment with him the summer before he left. When he finally did, my heart ached as if it were a breakup. I knew I had no right to these feelings, though, so I pushed them deep down inside of me. Still, they would gush forth from this secret place, often at odd moments, leaving me sobbing and reminiscing about long afternoons walking the city, discussing Joseph Conrad and Ernest Hemingway. He didn't break up with Lani before he left, even though they had been preparing themselves for separation as she prepared to fly to the West Coast to pursue a pre-med degree at UCLA. I didn't feel too sad about this, because she was a crazy bitch who despised me, and I returned the sentiment. But the fact that she had insisted that they stay together infuriated me.

It became clear to me while Jake was in college that I had had a little school girl crush on him all along. It was humiliating. The crying about his departure to college really sealed the deal when I looked back on things. Our IM conversations after that point were always a little awkward, because now I had a secret that I wanted to keep from him, my own sensitive nerve to conceal. When he broke up with Lani, I felt a little bit hopeful that he might consider me a good option for a girlfriend - or at least someone to fool around with. He was still flirtatious during our IM chats, but he seemed totally oblivious to my affection. Admittedly, I hid it carefully behind a facade of sexual worldliness and genuine curiosity about what (and who) he was doing. I encouraged him to tell me tales of his sexual conquest, and he gleefully obliged. Jake was a serial monogamist, and college was the first time in his life he was able to experience sexual freedom. He still stayed away from the kinkier stuff, but he started to discover that he was desirable to women. I often felt jealous and unpleasantly aroused at the same time. His stories served as accelerant on the flame of my desire for him. It was around this time that I regularly began masturbating to fantasies of teasing him with legs encased in silken stockings. When I thought about how I would deny him an orgasm, tying down his hands but leaving his legs free so they could writhe with frustration, watching the pre-cum dribble down his rock-hard cock while I caressed it softly with my stockinged foot - well, I came harder than I ever had.

When Jake visited during the holidays, we would always try to spend some time together. There were a few times that he brought girls home with him, and I avoided him then. When he wasn't with a girlfriend, we stuck to public places, and talked about his courses, his family, or tales of debauchery at parties on campus. I thought I might be imagining the thick sexual tension and the fog of denied impulses that surrounded us, or at least might be conjuring it into being, so I kept my physical distance from him. Now and then, as we had when we were in high school, we would go back to his house and cuddle in his bed or listen to music. I noted with disappointment that he never seemed aroused when I pressed my ass against his crotch, or let my hand drift to his fly. Sometimes he would show me pictures and videos from his porn stash, and I always had a shamefully violent urge to touch myself right there in front of him. It was all I could do not to reach under my skirt and start masturbating while he watched.

By the time I was in my first year of college, we had switched places: he came home, and I went off to school in New York. Jake had moved back into his mother's house while he decided what his next move would be around the same time that I shipped off to college in New York to pursue...well, I wasn't sure what I wanted to pursue, but I had managed to get into Columbia. In my first semester, it was as if the whole world had finally opened before me. I had never dated much in high school, partly because of the rigorous academics and all the extracurriculars, but mostly because I had always been waiting for Jake to become single, and for our cuddle sessions to turn into much more. Suddenly, men were interested in me. Very interested.

That fall, the baby fat had dissolved from my frame after a summer of Bikram yoga, revealing a new body underneath. My breasts were high, firm C-cups with porn-star nipples that pointed cutely upward. My waist was slim, hips flaring generously. My ass, always my best feature, lost any excess flabbiness, revealing itself to be high, firm, and heart-shaped. My legs, always lithe, now were even longer and leaner. I had grown my black hair over the summer, and its slight waves tumbled down nearly to my nipples. I started wearing makeup: black eyeliner to highlight my blue eyes, foundation to enhance my dewy skin, and peach lip gloss to make my full lips even more succulent. I started wearing skirts and stockings, sky-high heels, and even perfume. This tomboy had remade herself into a sex kitten, and men responded in droves.

After Jake broke up with Lani and settled in the city permanently, he finally settled on studying for the LSAT and getting into law school. His mother was a lawyer, and she had always encouraged him to follow in her footsteps. He hadn't been able to formulate a better plan for himself, so he followed her advice. I didn't have any contact with him at all during my first semester, and I was so busy dating that I didn't think about him much at all. When I came home for the holidays, we agreed to meet up at a Starbucks. Even after all the years, and all my recent conquests, I found that I was excited to see him, and to share my own sexual exploits.

I went shopping for the occasion. First, Wolford, which sold stockings that were so buttery-soft it was almost a sexual act to ease them over my legs. I had taken to wearing old-fashioned garters, so I bought a thigh-high pair in soft black. I paired these with a sheer black skirt that hit around mid-thigh. For my top, I selected a silken lilac button-down shirt, sheer enough to show the black lace bustier I wore underneath. I wore a pair of moderate heels to accentuate the length of my legs, but nothing overly slutty. I aimed to look like a professional woman, fresh from a day at the office. Over all of this, I wore a black peacoat with a flared skirt. This made it appear that I was naked underneath except for the stockings. I thought that Jake would appreciate this.

I took my time bathing, letting my skin silken in an oil bath. I allowed my hair to dry into natural loose waves, then carefully applied my makeup. After dressing, I appraised myself in the mirror. I looked unbelievably hot. Impulsively, I slipped off my panties and kicked them away. I already felt overwhelmingly aroused. Maybe Jake and I would sit side by side at the coffee shop, and I would take his hand and guide it up my leg, letting his long fingers brush my freshly-waxed pussy and feel how wet it was. Maybe then I would rise, skirt the table, and sit down across from him, giving him a teasing look. Maybe I'd slip off one of my shoes under the table, and then maybe I would slowly trace my manicured toes up the inside of his leg, and lightly flick them over his hard cock. Maybe I would push a little harder, pressing my toes in to let the head of his trouser-clad erection slip into the cleft between my big toe and the rest, and slide my foot up and down his stiff shaft until I could feel the pre-cum soak through his pants...then stop. Maybe then we would go back to his mother's place and I would allow him to eat me out. Maybe I would deny him any attention at all, sitting on his face for the rest of the afternoon while he writhed beneath me, my stockinged thighs pressed hard against his face, quivering, suffocating him in my juices as I came over and over and over and over...

I sighed in exasperation, shed my coat, then pulled my vibrator from my nightstand. I would have to relieve some of this pressure, just so I could retain some sense of control when we were together. I was already soaking wet, and easily inserted the pink silicone device into my tight pussy after I lay back on the bed. It was cold and hard, and I nearly came just from the sensation of my walls tightening around it. I positioned the pink rabbit ears over my clit, then clicked it on. I grunted, coming immediately. Then, panting and moaning, I pushed myself to have three more orgasms. When I slid out the vibrator, it was slick and fragrant with my own fluids. The wet spot on the bed soaked through my comforter and the sheets, straight through to my mattress. I luxuriated in the post-orgasm relaxation for a moment, then glanced at the clock. I was almost late! No time to clean myself up, I threw on my coat and rushed out the door.

Chapter Two

I saw him first when I entered the Starbucks. It was one of our old high school haunts. He was in the basement, near the back, where we used to play chess and watch the feet of the people walking by. When he noticed me, he smiled broadly and said loudly, "What's up, SLUT!?"

I blushed. Same old Jake. Shameless faux-extrovert. I bit back a moment of anger. Damn if he didn't look good. Really good. He was wearing a snug black t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a pair of high-end jeans. Back when he had been with Lani, he had let her dress him in the prepster zombie look of khakis and sweaters. I was so glad to see him back to his old self.

I crossed the floor toward him, noting the mischievous sparkle of his blue gaze. A blonde lock flopped over his eyes. It was unpretentious - he probably had just rolled out of bed to come see me, raking a hand through his hair and pulling on whatever smelled clean. He had a few days' growth of reddish stubble that I instantly wanted to feel on my inner thighs. My crotch, still feeling a bit sticky from air-drying in the unseasonably warm Boston air on the way to the Starbucks, began to pulse as if I hadn't had four orgasms before leaving the house. I was losing my faculties before he even opened his mouth. I sat down across from him and squeezed my legs together a few times - to steel myself or excite myself even more, I didn't know.

"So," he said, smiling that crooked smile. "How have you been, college girl?"

"Great!" I said, returning his grin. "How have you been, Mister Lawyer?"

"Not bad. My mom is driving me crazy, though. Law school this, law school that. Pretty sure I'm going to breeze through the LSAT, so she needs to calm the fuck down. You want a coffee? I was going to go up and get a refill."

"Chai..." I said. "...dirty." I raised a coquettish eyebrow at him, and giggled.

"Yes, mistress," he replied, and bowed his head slightly before rising to fetch our drinks. "I'll be right back."

While I waited for him to return, I considered my options. On the one hand, I really, really wanted to fuck him. On the other hand, I really didn't want to ruin our friendship. The tension was unbearable for me, though. Even though he wasn't letting on, it was possible that he had felt it too. After four months of experience dating (and sleeping with) all the men I could get my hands on, I knew that I had pretty good radar for their arousal. I often felt turned on without knowing why, then realized that I was intuiting what they were feeling. It was a gift, I guess you'd say.

Would it really ruin the friendship if we fucked? I chewed my lip as I thought this over, getting lost in my own head. I didn't notice when he came back.

"Nice shoes," he said, setting my dirty chai in front of me. "Nice legs." His eyes sparkled.

Fuck, I was in trouble.

"Ahem, so...how's your sex life?" Damn. I had meant to change the subject. Oh, well.

"Dry." He frowned. "Too dry. Yours?"

"Since we're talking metaphorically, I would say...hmm...wet. Soaking...wet." I stared him down, challenging him to say something to up the ante. He just raised his eyebrows and pried the lid off of his coffee. He liked to drink it black, but I could never stomach the brewed coffee at Starbucks. He said he liked the intensity of it.

Intensity...again, I drifted off into fantasies of his face buried between my legs. Orgasm after orgasm, until my clitoris was so sensitive that just his breath would push me over the edge. I uncrossed and recrossed my legs, pulsing my thighs together. My pussy throbbed, aching for the flicking of that wicked tongue. He had once told me that he practiced for cunnilingus, a typically logical Jake thing to do. On one of my visits home, he had demonstrated for me. He was very talented. But back then, I had been trying to push any thoughts of a relationship out of my head. He had been dating someone, and I had been...wanting him.

I tuned back in just as he was saying, "...but that didn't work out too well. She reminded me too much of Lani."

"Huh?" I fumbled, trying to regain my composure.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked devilishly.

"Nothing. Just that I wish I hadn't worn these shoes. They hurt my feet."

I slipped my right foot out of its heel and extended my leg toward him underneath the table. I arched and then stretched it, needlessly drawing out the motion. He grabbed my foot and tickled it.

"Hey! Give that back!" I couldn't help but laugh at the tickle.

"I could give you a foot massage. You know how good I am at that."

"Yeah, Jake, you tell me that you're good at a lot of things, but I wouldn't know...at least not from personal experience." I pouted slightly, and attempted to pull my foot from his hands. He wouldn't let go, and began lightly running his fingers up my ankle and toward my knee.

"Come on. Maybe you should try me sometime," he retorted, running both thumbs under the sole of my foot. "Are these Wolfords?"

I startled a bit. "How did you know? You been wearing expensive stockings lately under your lawyer pants?"

He blushed furiously. "I'm not a lawyer yet, Bec. And I know because Lani's mom used to buy her all these expensive clothes. Lani used her credit card once to buy some lingerie to wear for me. She told me that Wolfords were the best stockings out there. After fucking her in them, I have to agree." He began to slide both hands up to my knee again, massaging and caressing, clearly enjoying the sensation.

I felt the seat growing humid under my ass. Why hadn't I worn panties? What the fuck had I been thinking? I abruptly pulled my foot out of his hands, and put my shoe back on. It was getting to be too much. I might have to make a hasty exit, since I seemed incapable of changing the subject, or thinking about anything else... I hated not being in control.