My life changed significantly after that random encounter in the hardware store. Jake, the owner, had forced me to confront my desire to be sexually submissive in the back aisle of the store. That encounter culminated in my kneeling in front of him and sucking his cock with my hands bound behind my back.
The following day, he'd delivered the rope I'd purchased to try out self-bondage. As an experienced dom and rope expert, he had insisted. And I couldn't seem to stop playing with fire. When he'd finished showing me a few basics and seemed prepared to leave, I had begged him to stay. I wanted him to tie me up in the ways he'd whispered to me in the store. Things got heated from there, and before I knew it, I was agreeing to Jake's demand that I would be his. Without any full understanding of what that might entail.
I can't claim to have been completely innocent. I'd trawled all the websites. Thought about it for years. But the idea of this -- belonging to a man I barely knew, had just met a day ago -- was beyond ridiculous. The man seemed decent enough, but this still seemed like a bad idea.
I'd had time to think about things as I showered. Jake had gone to pick up the pizza he'd ordered for dinner from the brick-oven place two doors down. Leaning my hip against the cool tiled wall, I let the water revive me. I tried to get my brain to process at a somewhat normal speed after three mind-blowing orgasms. I needed to ask some good questions over dinner and be prepared to negotiate my way out of this if I had to.
I was so fucked.
The truth was that I didn't want to raise objections, didn't want to get out of anything. Ridiculous as it sounded, I wanted to belong to him. All my late-night longings swirled in my head as the water swirled down the drain. I saw myself in a heavy collar, on a leash, at his feet; saw myself bound in his ropes. That trembling that had never really stopped for the last two days amped up again. I fought it down, breathed, and started making a list of questions.
By the time I emerged, fully dressed and armed for battle, Jake was back. Instead of using the large dining table that doubled as my desk, he'd set things up on the coffee table at the other end of the large room. He'd pulled it close to the oversized, well-weathered leather sofa. He'd also rifled through my scanty kitchen supplies and found plates, glasses and silverware, even napkins. I was impressed.
As I came into the room, he was uncorking a bottle of red wine that he'd picked up with the pizza. He lifted it toward me with a raised eyebrow and I nodded, so he poured two glasses. I hovered a bit uncomfortably; he had made himself at home to the point that I had nothing to do.
When he'd finished pouring the wine, Jake leaned back on the sofa and stretched out his legs. He looked me over as if I was purposely testing him. "Take off your clothes," he said in a level voice that did not invite argument. "I like seeing your body."
I unconsciously clasped my hands behind my back. My voice sounded unsteady. "We need to talk about this. What I said back there...in the bedroom. I need to know what it means."
He opened the pizza box and took out two slices, putting one on each plate. "Of course you do," he said reassuringly. "We're rushing the gate with this in every way. I'd be worried if you didn't have questions. Now take off those clothes and come sit beside me so we can talk."
I found myself doing as he commanded. It sounded reasonable coming from his mouth. After I'd folded my clothes and put them on a nearby chair, I walked to the sofa and sat down, leaving a buffer of space between us. I could see he wanted me closer but decided to let me have my way on this one.
He handed me a plate. "Eat," he ordered.
My eyes flashed at him as I muttered, "Bossy."
He smiled, but there was some steel in his voice as he said, "I believe the correct response would be 'Yes, Sir' and I would advise you to remember that from now on."
I ducked my head and took a bite, slowly chewed it, then reached for my glass and took a long swallow of wine. Finally I looked back at him and said sweetly, "Yes, Sir."
He laughed, the first time I'd heard him do so. The sound was unaccountably warming. It made me want to press up tight against him. Instead, I started asking my questions.
"What does it mean, to be yours?"
He watched me, making sure I took another bite before he answered. "It can mean a lot of things. It's up to us how to define it. For now, let's say that it means mostly what I said to you. That you will not let anyone else touch you except me, and that you'll let me be the one who teaches you the things you long to know."
I considered this. It sounded rational -- if any of this was rational. "For how long?"
He drank some of the wine and apparently enjoyed it as his eyes half closed when he swallowed. I wanted to trace the path of it down his throat with my lips. I was in some deep trouble.
He looked at me again. "I'm not an ogre. Either of us can decide not to continue at any time. All I'm asking is that, if you're going to explore this, you do it with me as your guide and partner." He put his glass down and stroked a finger down my thigh. "You've got good instincts, but you're incredibly trusting. I wouldn't want to see anyone take advantage of that."
I couldn't help a wry smile, "Except you?"
I'd pushed him too far. His brows drew together. "You should be taking this very seriously. You just allowed me to tie you up, a man you hardly know. Granted you let your neighbor know, but..." he paused, looked a little pained, "so many things could have happened."
My jaw nearly dropped at his seeming double-speak. And yet, he'd been ready to leave. It was me who had begged him to stay. On some level I just seemed to trust him instinctively. Why? I had no answer to that.
I put my hands up in surrender. "Okay, I get it. Let's say that I agree -- conditionally -- to this. I still need some idea of what you would expect. I know there are things...limits, lists...that people in this situation talk about. Right?" I'd started out confidently, but my voice ended with a little upward quaver that made me want to slap myself.
His eyes went to my near-untouched slice of pizza meaningfully, and I took another small bite. "Little bird," he said, in the voice that wrapped me in a sensuous layer of silk, "Let's just explore this for now. I'm not sure you know enough to make reasonable guesses about limits and lists at this point. I promise I will listen to your concerns if something doesn't feel right."
Something about the way he said it made me shiver. Because what I heard is that he'd listen to my concerns, but then he would make the decision about whether or not to proceed. And the idea of that was making me wet all over again, despite my efforts to have a neutral conversation about this.
What's worse, he knew it. Gently clasping the thigh that was closest, he drew it toward him. "Let's start with basics," he said, voice low but firm. "When you're with me, you will always sit, kneel or lie with your legs apart. To show me you're available to me at any time, ready to please me. Do you understand?"
