Elise had the misfortune of being a "good girl" all her life. She was the one who easily did very well in school, attended church regularly, respected her parents and community, and was in many ways all-around decent, not ever a source of embarrassment. Her parents always proudly countered other parents' complaints of their children's problems with, "Oh, Elise never does that."
Whether the others were cheating, taking drugs, staying out late, being rude, or worse, she began to hear a condemnation in the innocent praise of, "Elise never does anything bad". To her, that statement didn't accent the good stuff that she had done but instead focused her mind on all that she hadn't done, made her wonder why others did those things, and she didn't.
It began to haunt her. Elise decided that she needed to dirty her image, so she attended the "wrong" kinds of parties, learned to "swear like a sailor," and skipped church when she could. Still, even after all that and months of living with her now-ex-boyfriend while she attended college, some who even knew the fact of their co-habitation still thought she was a virgin. She wasn't, but her reputation in many circles was that strong, her lifestyle that tame. She had no intention of outwardly appearing extremely bad, but she needed to know the deeper "bad girl" side to take the edge off her doe-like naivetΓ©. Moreover, she felt she was really missing out on something.
This ache worsened every Christmas because of a song that played frequently in the season, "Feliz Navidad." She knew that it simply meant "Merry Christmas" in Spanish, but in her mind it often sounded like an endless taunting of "Elise never does, Elise never does ..." Each year she tried to ignore this silly association, but it increasingly reminded her of a big emptiness within her. She wasn't sure exactly what to do, but in December, after one too many renditions of "that song" at the office, mall, and everywhere, she finally realized it was time to take action.
In an online personals web site she skipped past the "nice guys" section and ventured into territory she had barely even heard about, BDSM. Several men she contacted there turned out to be absolute creeps, but eventually one intrigued her, gave her a new pleasure at the idea of being naughty and of diving into the deep end with him. He said his name was Jake, but she strongly suspected that wasn't his real name. After a short time, they agreed that she would visit his house, or at least one he said was his. Not knowing important information generally annoyed her, but Elise inexplicably felt okay about this situation. "Well, here goes," she thought.
At nine o'clock sharp, she stood at the front door of a fairly new and well-tended house in suburbia. Just as instructed, she looked under the doormat and retrieved a plain envelope addressed in typed letters "For Elise." The note inside told her to ring the bell, count slowly to ten, walk in, shut the door, then turn around instantly and look through the peephole to where she was now standing and then wait for more instructions. Odd, to say the least, but it seemed innocent enough to her. New worlds mean new things, so she soon entered the house.
What surprised her was that all the lights were off and it was totally dark. In fact, the only light came from the porch light through the peephole, and her curiosity more than Jake's note led her to look through it, wondering if there was in fact some marvel to be seen. Almost immediately though, a masculine voice, betraying a slight accent she couldn't identify, asked simply, "Elise, do you trust me?"
For a second or two her mind cried out silently, "Hell no, you idiot! I don't know a damn thing about you; it's dark in here, and I'm scared for my life and safety! What I'm doing here I'll never know. I should run now and never look back. For a smart woman I'm being incredibly stupid, and yet you ask if I trust you when I haven't even seen you or even the house? I'll probably be dead by morning, that's how much I trust you!"
However, something inside her had recognized in his voice a reassurance, a conviction that she would find what she had looked for all these years. Their written communications had been respectful, asking about preferences and experiences, getting to know each other. His voice sounded like what she hoped it would. Later she decided it must have been because of the tone of his voice that she said aloud and almost meant, "Yes, Jake, I do trust you."
"This evening will be easy for you then, Elise, easy and very enjoyable because all you need to do is what I tell you, to trust what I do and not fight it. Will you do that?"
After she somewhat hesitantly agreed, he continued.
"I'm so happy to hear you say that. From now on, however, when you answer me, say Yes, Sir or No, Sir. Will you do that?"
She paused, beginning to get an idea of what would follow, knowing this was her last chance to avoid the total submission she dreaded and desired. Resolutely, she replied, "Yes, Sir."
"Don't move."
Elise felt a man's arms reach around her head and secure a blindfold. Next fur-lined cuffs were attached to each wrist then pulled behind her back and clicked together. She heard a different click, felt a slightest warming, and knew a light was on, so only she was still in the dark β in more ways than one. Still recovering from this new awareness, a collar clasped around her neck and something clicked to it. It couldn't be what she thought it was, or could it? The answer came when she was pulled by the leash and stumbled forward through what seemed to be a hallway and into a large room.