Enslaving Chloe

Edited by Rosmarina (whose advice and assistance are much appreciated)

Please do not reproduce this story without permission.

== Chapter 3 ==

Despite loving Chloe very deeply and enjoying serving her very much, in my head I still wanted to be with a man. Although I felt very comfortable being Chloe's plaything in every way, I felt I needed a male presence to dominate me. I now knew two things things I absolutely required in any future relationship: it would be an older man, and he would have to be willing to tie me up.

When I was finally able to go out without being subjected to my mother's ever-watchful gaze I got to meet a few guys, but it appeared that my fantasies were far in excess of any actual experience I could find. My attempts to find an older man who would treat me in the way I wanted were disasters, only distinguished by the degree to which they failed to match my very active fantasy life. Many men were interested in my hot teenage body and in order to get into my pants they would tell me how they would dominate me. But in reality, they were not truly dominant men. They rarely even knew anything about bondage, and if they did it was just some kind of kinky sex game to them. They really knew no more about how to treat a submissive woman than did most boys my own age. Finding the kind of man who would truly understand me, and could give me what I now knew I needed, was much more difficult than I had expected.

Since my time with Tony I knew of various undesirable night spots, bars and night clubs. I thought I knew where to go to find the kind of men I hoped might be able to dominate me. I would dress up in a tight top, short skirt and "fuck-me" heels and head off. But I couldn't simply go up to some hunky looking guy and ask him if I could submit to him, so I just hung around waiting for someone to approach me. It rarely took very long. I always had plenty of offers but most of the guys who tried to chat me up were only interested in a quick fuck or acquiring a young trophy girlfriend to impress their friends. Neither outcome was remotely interesting to me.

I didn't want to be approached with lame pick-up lines. What I really wanted was this: I wanted someone to just pull me out of whatever sleazy bar I was in, take me out into the car park, slap me around a bit and push me into their car without a word. In my imagination, as he drove he would order me to undress. If I hesitated, as I would very briefly just to see what might happen, the stern look he gave me would be enough to have my fingers unbuttoning and unzipping what little I had on. I wanted all this to be done as if the man had total authority over me and there was no need to ask for my permission. I wanted him to act in a way that was firm but not brutal. A way that meant I was expected to follow instructions without question. I was not to question. I was to obey.

Instead I got many puzzled looks and outraged comments from those who found my indifference to their charms impossible to understand. Often I had to move on empty-handed to another bar when I'd worn out my welcome. Very occasionally I'd meet someone with enough charm to enjoy a bit of conversation. Then I'd try to steer the discussion towards to my interests so as to hear his views. It was no problem to get these guys to talk about sex, but I was not interested in just ANY sex. I wanted to talk about a specific kind of sex and if the conversation was not developing as I wished I sometimes asked the man I was talking to if he had ever tied anyone up or in other ways tried to discover if he was on my wave-length. Mostly my attempts fell flat as it quickly became obvious that the guys I met either didn't understand what I was talking about or thought I just wanted kinky sex.

This went on for quite some time. On those rare occasions when a found a potential match, it went nowhere or ended in disappointment. For example, one night I met Dave. He did seem to know what I meant by bondage. In fact he told me sotto voce that I should call him Master Dave. He didn't seem very dominant and I was certainly not going to address him like that on such short acquaintance, but at least he was familiar with the subject. We had an interesting conversation, and then Dave... er, Master Dave as he kept insisting I call him, told me that it would be better if we continued our discussion elsewhere. I liked that he told me rather than asked, but I was uneasy about going anywhere with someone like him. Although I'd often imagined that I would feel swept away by a dominant force and simply do as I was told this presupposed some feeling of recognition as kindred spirits. Dave was clearly lacking in dominant force department so I was very sceptical he was what I needed. On the other hand, if I didn't go along with "Master Dave" at least for a while how would I know if he was what he claimed to be?

With many reservations, but coasting on a wave of something close to desperation after after an already exhausting search I followed him out of the bar. I was full of conflicting emotions but I tried to ignore the red lights which kept flashing in my mind. His car was just outside and he suggested I get in. There was still no explanation of where we were going, but I decided to go along and see how things developed. We only travelled for a few minutes and there were no instructions to strip naked or do anything else. In fact we hardly said a word, and my mind was fully occupied with debating whether I was being very brave or very stupid to go with this man.

We soon drove into a yard and "Master Dave" announced that this was where he lived. He got out and I followed him inside. Once the door was closed I had an awful feeling. It was not that I feared being raped or anything like that. Dave did not attack me or seem about to do so. But the house was very untidy and had an unpleasant smell like it had not been aired for a very long time. I stood there trying to decide whether to make some excuse and leave. "Master Dave" said, "Since you want to be my slave you should be on your knees." We had not actually discussed anything about me being his slave, so I was surprised that he'd made the assumption I wanted any such thing. I just looked at him.

"On your knees!" Dave shouted at me as he reached out and tried to drag me further into the house. I took a few steps, more from shock than any desire to go with him. Dave seemed to take my continued silence as assent, and he sat in a chair and unzipped his trousers. He took out his cock and asked me if I wanted to suck it! I didn't, but I couldn't speak because I was still trying to think what to say. Before I could come up with the right words for such a strange situation, Dave said, "I've always wanted a slave girl and you can move in here as soon as you want. While I'm at work you can clean the place up a bit. Just make sure to have dinner ready right on time when I get home or I'll have to punish you. Now suck my cock."

Suddenly it was only too clear what "Master Dave" had in mind for me. It had no connection with the erotic submission I was seeking, but I didn't feel he would understand if I tried to discuss it with him. So I ran.

The front door was not locked and I managed to open it without any trouble. I got out of there as quickly as possible and took off. Somewhere behind me I could hear "Master Dave" yelling. He wanted to know where I was going. I didn't know the answer myself, except it was somewhere else.

After that I was careful not to take up any further invitations to "go somewhere" with a man I hardly knew. I talked to a lot more people, but most of them seemed to think I was some kind of nymphomaniac just looking for excitement. I gradually realised that I was searching in the wrong places and that it was unlikely I'd ever find anyone who understood me this way. That realisation was quite depressing.

Maybe I was simply inexperienced in the ways of the world but slowly I understood that starting a relationship was just about sex to most men, with no deeper interaction involved. What I was looking for was something that extended much further and had the potential to go much deeper. Something involving trust, commitment, understanding, caring, responsibility. These seemed to be foreign concepts to most of the men I met. During all the time I was trawling the bars and clubs I never felt that I could trust any of the guys I met to look after me and care for me. I think most submissive women need and want to feel a real sense of connection with their dominant and this involves some kind of meeting on the intellectual plane as well as many other things. Most of the men I'd met thought it was just bondage, punishment and sex --- end of story.

Then someone told me about a "BDSM Club" and suggested I go there. It was only open two nights a week so I went along not knowing what to expect. The entrance was a small dark doorway with a single bare lightbulb overhead. The bouncer looked like a biker and probably was. I found that as a single woman I didn't have to pay, and when I walked down the steps and emerged into a large room I could see why. Two thirds of the patrons were men. There was a bar at one end of the room and a small stage at the other. Nothing was happening on the stage, so I went to get a drink. It felt like every eye in the room was on me as I headed for the bar.

While I was waiting for some bar service a guy who was already standing there offered to buy me a drink. I very politely declined as I didn't want to feel I had to talk to anyone until I'd had a chance to observe things more closely. When someone buys you a drink there's an unspoken obligation to talk to them, so I preferred to buy my own. Having done so, I quickly retreated to an empty table up near the stage. As I looked around it was evident that this was really just another bar, and the patrons did not seem so very different from the other places I'd already been to during my search. The interior decoration looked a bit tired, and there was not much atmosphere, but I'd seen worse.

Many of the male patrons were on their own, others were in small all-male groups, some had a female companion. I was the only girl (or woman) on her own. Sitting at the table there was less attention focused on me than when I'd first entered and walked to the bar. Quite surprisingly no one invited themselves to my table right away, but I could see that a few of the single men were considering it. They were just working up the nerve to make an approach, I assumed, but then activity on the stage near me became the focus of attention.

Some stage lights came on and a man came out leading a woman by a chain which was tied around her wrists. She was naked except for a pair of panties. He hooked her wrists above her head to some kind of attachment which I had not noticed before due to the dim lighting. He produced a whip and announced that he was about to give a demonstration of flogging. The woman seemed like she had been through something like this many times before, judging from the bored look on her face. As the man whipped her back she hardly moved and only made a slight grunt after each blow. I looked around and saw that all conversation has ceased and everyone in the room was watching intently.

Gradually the man worked up to some harsher blows and began to swing the whip rhythmically as he moved around. The woman was only making slightly louder grunts than at the start. He finished up with a frenzied burst of blows on the woman's back and shoulders. Then it was over. She had made very little noise throughout, and seemed slightly dazed but otherwise unaffected as the man detached her wrists from above her head and led her away. The lights above the stage went off.

There had been no announcement about what the exhibition I'd just witnessed was all about. Maybe it was some kind of show that was put on periodically during the night? As I was pondering the meaning of all this a man approached and asked if he could join me. He already had a drink in his hand, and I'd hardly touched mine. He didn't wait for my reply before he sat down. He was middle-aged and dressed casually in jeans and a black t-shirt. A beer belly bulged slightly over the top of his jeans. His hair was a bit long for my taste, but he didn't seem too threatening so I waited to see what he had to say.

Unbelievably his first comment was probably the most unimaginative pick-up line ever. "Do you come here often?" he said. I told him I'd never been here in my life. He seemed pleased about that. Maybe he thought it was his lucky day judging from the big smile on his face. I still didn't know his name. Instead he asked "So what did you think of the flogging exhibition?" I told him I'd never seen anything like that before. I didn't want to say anything negative, although my impression was that it was purely done as an entertainment. It was certainly not erotic. I suppose they had to justify the claim that it was a BDSM Club somehow.

I didn't feel like continuing such an unpromising conversation, and my new table companion seemed to have nothing more to say. He still hadn't introduced himself or asked for my name. I gazed around the room, but there was no-one who stood out as looking particularly interesting. I don't mean I expected some specific kind of appearance, and I certainly didn't expect anyone to be wearing leather, or have tattoos, or fulfill any other stereotype of dominance. I think such superficial attributes mean little or nothing. But I did want to feel some kind of attraction, not necessarily physical, but intellectual or spiritual, or to to feel that there was someone with whom I might be able to enjoy a stimulating conversation.

My table companion sat looking at his beer, so I excused myself and said I was going to the ladies. He mumbled something I didn't quite catch as I walked away. My departure was just an excuse to avoid being stuck with someone who didn't have much to say, and after checking my lipstick in the mirror I re-emerged. I was wondering what to do when a guy standing nearby asked "Are you here on your own?" I said I was, and he moved a bit closer. "Did you see the flogging?" he asked. I told him I had. "Would you like to be whipped?" was his next question.

"Do you mean now or some other time?" I responded. He laughed and told me that he was a "Master" and that he would whip me any time I was ready. I wondered what made him a "Master" so I asked. He told me that he had a lot of experience whipping slaves. According to him it was his greatest pleasure to whip a slave and then if she asked nicely he would fuck her and give her the best orgasm she'd ever had. "Just the one?" I asked. He seemed a bit puzzled by this question, as if *one* great orgasm should be enough for any freshly-whipped slavegirl. Instead he told me that he would be prepared to accept me as his slave and train me. All I had to do was get naked and sit at his feet and he would make sure I got the full benefit of his long and extensive experience.

I wasn't sure if he was joking as we had only just met and knew nothing about each other. I'd expected any prospective Master would want to know something about me before deciding I could be his slave. I looked at him and pretended to be thinking over his offer. Then I told him that I didn't think I had time to become his slave right now but that I'd keep him in mind. He looked rather annoyed but didn't say anything. I thought I'd better move on.

Someone called out to me. It sounded like "Show us your tits!" but I was too busy scanning the room to think much about it. I didn't want to go back to my table as the first guy to approach me was still there. I wandered back down towards the bar. Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm. I jumped and tried to pull away. The owner of the hand was one of a group of three young guys leering at me in an alarming manner. "Why don't you join us for a drink?" he asked. I said I'd prefer to get my own. "We can show you a good time," was the response. I said I was not looking for a *good time* and that I was about to leave anyway. I was getting a bad feeling about this place. I pretended to see something interesting over near the exit and I walked off. I overheard one of the guys saying, "Must be a lesbian," to the others as I walked off.

It was still relatively early, but I'd had enough. Rather than go through more of the same I went home. Clearly the BDSM Club was not the kind of environment where I'd find a man with a well-considered philosophy about dominance and submission which he could explain to me over a civilised drink or two. Most of the people at the club seemed to regard it as little more than a pick-up joint for any girl foolish enough to be attracted by the BDSM Club image. I could tell from even my limited experience that none of the people I'd spoken to would have had any answers to the many questions I had about the kind of erotic submission I craved. Although I knew that I had a lot to learn, I wanted someone to take me seriously and not just see me as a foolish girl who could easily be duped.

That was the only time I ventured into any so-called BDSM Club, but there were many other experiences like those described above. Most of the men I spoke to never understood that it wasn't all about sex for me; that what I wanted from submission to a dominant man was a meeting of minds. I usually felt that the only kind of meet on offer was my young body as a piece of meat (in their eyes). And when I asked them about their personal philosophy, the best many could come up with was the fake-dom equivalent of "Me Tarzan, You Jane."

Despite my ignorance, I had definite ideas about what I needed. It was not that I could have explained myself very clearly, but I felt I would know it when, or if, I found it. I was confident I would recognise what I was looking if I had the opportunity as it was something that had been within me my whole life. As a young girl I somehow knew that I wanted to be controlled and feel protected. It had nothing to do with sex as I was too young to know about that when these thoughts first started to come into my mind. When, much later, I discovered sex that was just added to the mix. Later still it became a very important part of my desire for submission, but sex was still only one component of what I desired.

I wanted to feel humbled before someone stronger, wiser and more experienced than me. Most importantly such a person would value me and appreciate my love and devotion. I felt that it would be a symbiotic relationship where I would care for and serve my Master and he would teach, love, train and protect me. Such a relationship could only be based on deep understanding, so he would take the time to get to know me intimately. I would be happy to obey my Master and I would do anything he wished. But I would need to feel that I could trust him to look after my best interests. It did not matter if I had to do things I really did not wish to do, as long as I knew Master would not allow me to come to any harm. If he knew me as well as he should my Master would know what I needed, even if I did not know myself. This was the kind of relationship I'd desired all my life.

I had learned that I was submissive, and I thought I knew a little about some ways in which I wanted to express my submission physically, sexually and emotionally. I imagined that all three aspects were involved, but felt that there should be some kind of balance rather than all the emphasis on just one aspect or another. Even though I was still exploring what all this actually meant, and although I lacked much real experience, I had decided that this was what I would seek in a partner. I needed a man who would guide me and help me understand myself. So I had set out on my search with high hopes.

By now I knew very well that bars and clubs were not full of men like that. Quite the contrary, most of the people I'd observed in such places had only their own self-interest in mind. I'd learned this fact early as I'd been to many such places with Tony. But I didn't know what other places I could go where it was possible to talk to almost anyone. It was hardly possible to do so in a cafe or restaurant. Parties were a waste of time, and I was not a party girl anyway. So my options were limited.