Meeting A New Mindset

This is my first story and will be the first of four installments. Feedback is appreciated.

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It's hard to know what people want. When you click on a story like this, are you looking for carnal scenes in way too much detail, or are you looking for characters you like in situations you'd fantasize about? I'm not sure, but it's really just my story. So, I think I'll start.

At twenty-three years old I stereotypically had the world figured out. I woke up three days a week (Sunday, Saturday, and Monday) to attend different classes at a local community college to get my nursing degree. I woke up four days a week to go to a job at a nursing care facility as an "administrative assistant" which was really just a kind respectful way to say secretary/go-fer. I'm a shorter girl at 5'4" with a curvy body that anybody would call an hourglass shape. I was 135lbs and a little self-conscious about those extra five pounds. This'll come into play later. I was vain about my hair, a brilliant coppery red, and my eyes that were bright enough to be basically a dead match for the color.

I wrote stories like the ones posted on sites like this one. Depraved little fantasies about young girls giving their power and bodies up to people in authority: teachers, bosses, coaches...even one about my own boss, but it was all the normal ones you get thousands of on here. I felt like if I wrote it down it was out of my head and I could go back to being a normal student/worker. I thought I'm a good writer; I like stories like the ones I wrote. Maybe if I posted more stories like mine would pop up.

Here's the snag, though. I'm a prideful girl. I was frightened that I'd get mocked for my poor story lines, or bad grammar. This is the internet after all. If submitting my stories would be anything like the times I've tried to get "Youtube Famous" for instructional videos, it would be bad. Besides, this site had given me a lot.

So, that's how I began to seek an editor. There were pages and pages of ones to choose from. Finally after checking out a few I settled on stupidpopmediareference. Mostly because the name made me giggle, but also because they said that they specialized in reviewing BDSM literature and would help me to create a realistic story. My message was simple:

"Hey there, I'm currently finishing up a pretty large piece and it'll be my first time posting on this site. Help me to not get embarrassed the way my main character loves to? I want a realistic story, but something stimulating."

I thought it was playful enough that he/she'd respond with a resounding yes. While I waited for an answer I looked through his profile. I'm not sure why. It didn't matter who that person was, only that they'd help me and could do the job. After I convinced myself I just wanted to see if the profile had spelling mistakes in it I could spot, and that I wasn't being a horrible snoop, I dug in. I saw that he was a male, age 33 to 40, a tall height (which I think every guy puts), and he was at least from the same state I was. I got lost in one of my favorite authors and was panting by the time I finished one of the pieces I'd been working on. That's when I noticed I had a reply from stupidpopmediareference.

"I'll need to know more about the story than that. Does it fit in with what I normally review? I want to give you a good experience."

I blinked. Oh, he'd need like a story synopsis. I guess that made sense, but I didn't like telling this stranger a little blurb about my character, Emily getting railed by her golfing coach, and then the school therapist she confessed it to. Then I blinked again. This entire story was going to be read by him in its rawest form. Did I want to just hand this over to a stranger? But then, once it's all said and done, it'll be read by tons of people...so what makes him special? He was just trying to "give me a good experience." I giggled a bit as I'd used that exact line as one said by Emily's golfing coach when he made her give him head and made her suck on a popsicle first.

Instead of writing out a new bit about the story, I copied and pasted that scene in quotations. It had her getting tied to the benches with her legs tied up by her neck as he violated her with her popsicle. It fit the stories he had reviewed, and I was being extra bold by including the same line he'd sent me. What if he didn't get it? At the bottom of my message I included "Yeah, it seemed he wanted to 'give her a good experience too.' I'd love your help getting this story posted." It seemed very flirty to me, but I was excited from the idea of so many people now associating my username with this filthy story. I wanted to sound confident, and yes...flirty.

I didn't expect him to answer any time soon, so I hopped on my school website and checked my email. There was an email from a fellow student, Derrick, who needed help with part of the A&PII homework. I smiled as I was able to help him, though I didn't understand why he'd taken the time to compose an email to me when he could've just googled it. He was a nice guy, and I assumed he did It to give me a little ego boost, and I let him know I thought so in my reply...and I thanked him for it. Then I opened another tab, and went back to the last site and went into their chatrooms.

I like to spend an hour or two chatting before I go to bed, and I've got a pretty tight little group of internet friends on here. They were mostly submissive females who came to me for fashion and makeup advice. It was a well-known hidden secret that I was a "beauty guru" on Youtube. I really wasn't, and hadn't even gotten a play button yet. I acted humble while still directing them to my page to feed me views and likes. My friends had subscribed. I went in and said my "hellos" and felt a little bubble of pride as the conversations stopped to tell me hello, or to type my name in all caps with lots of explanation points. I felt happy in this little virtual world, and better yet, unjudged. These were the people that would read my fantasies. These were friendly, fun people who wouldn't be as cruel as the strangers on Youtube.

It wasn't until I was deep into a conversation about the latest movie release that I noticed a new member had entered the chat. It was him! My reviewer. I opened a private message and was shocked to see he must have opened one as well, because there was a message waiting for me in the window:

"If you want me to review your story I will, but you won't like what I have to say based on that little snippet you sent me."

I didn't understand. I was offended, and somewhere in the back of my mind I understood what he was going to say, but I couldn't let him know. So instead I played naïve, "What're you talking about?"

"In the snippet you send me, your girl was actively mocking the lifestyle. She was wrestling with self-esteem issues. That's not a problem, if anything that shows you're a writer capable of understanding character development, but you write in that paragraph that it was these self-esteem issues that made her a good submissive."

I licked my lips. I'd talked to submissives in chat. They were honest with me, and to be honest with you, that was the unifying trait, a sense of worthlessness...or lacking. Still, I felt a sort of friendship with these girls, and wouldn't betray them to someone I'd just met. Much less a man who could take advantage.

"It's just a story. It's her mindset." I typed back with a little shrugging emoji.

"Then you should have written it in her perspective. Instead you make it the opinion of the narrator. Which is you. Let me see the rest of it. Maybe I'm overreacting and I owe you an apology."

I couldn't help it, I wanted to send him a jab, "Oh, do Doms apologize?"

"When they're wrong they do. A lot of people write spank bank stuff on here. When you said you wanted something realistic, I thought you wanted to write something more meaningful than that." I was embarrassed at what he said. Should I have been trying to write more? Would I offend my friends rather than trying to relate to them. Suddenly, another message ran through. "You can tell me if I'm stepping across the line, but have you been in a Dom/sub relationship irl?"

It didn't feel like he was being condescending, just asking if my views were tainted by real life experience. "No." I replied honestly, "I haven't. But I talk with a lot of girls on chat here that have been."

"They told you they have been?" He asked back. I thought. One did. But one out of five does not a good score make.

"One did." I admitted. The conversation went on like that late into the night. Slowly I found myself getting to like this guy. He was opinionated, but funny, and never hesitated to let me know that any information questions he asked me didn't need to be answered if I was uncomfortable. In fact he seemed to go out of his way to make sure I was the captain of the amount of information I divulged.

I looked up and it was already 2AM. I told him I would send him my story in exchange for something. I was so curious.

"Sure, tit for tat seems fair. What would you want of mine?" He asked and I sucked in a lungful of air as I prepared myself to type.

"Maybe a picture of you? I'm so curious to put a face to a name! ;)" I typed...thought about it, then deleted the winky face.

"Oh! I thought you meant like a sample of my writing."

There was a pause. "Okay. Let me send you a link." And there it was. I was excited and fumbled to click on it.

And there he was. Broad shoulders and a thick neck. He was handsome, but not strikingly so. He had brown hair that was flecked with a bit of grey and a beard. And he had amazingly beautiful eyes. They were blue and bright, except for a patch of brow in his right eye. Neato.

"Your eyes are really pretty." I wrote back. I knew it was stupid and sort of cringed as I hit enter.

"It's sectoral heterochromia. I was born with it."

"Are you sure it's not Maybelline?" I giggled at my own joke, hoping he'd get it.

"Lol, maybe it is. You don't know for sure." I smiled honestly, then apologized, telling him I'd need to get off for the night. We promised to meet up on chat at a convenient time for both of us. Then my heart twisted a little as he typed, "It was really nice getting to know you. You're not like the girl you write about." I was happy.

That night I tossed in my bed. I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation online. He'd mentioned that he was a Dom in real life, and had taken a break from the lifestyle until recently. I thought about what it would be like to be a submissive for him.

My mind swirled into a living room with plush slate grey carpeting. I was on a black little pillow, kneeling with my hands in my lap, facing palm upwards. I'd read that this meant you were ready to serve your Master. I was naked and my hair was curled and laid in soft red ringlets down my back and away from my face. My makeup was very natural and gleaming around my throat was a gold colored cord of solid metal with a o-ring attached at the front. I was looking up at him. He'd said he was tall, about 6'5" and I pictured him towering over me in a dress shirt and a pair of jeans. He looked down at me and leaned down to pull on my o-ring stiffly, leaning me in closer to his waist.

My thighs were hot and I could feel my sticky warmth flooding my excited pussy, but I refused to touch myself yet to this thought. I didn't know anything about this man. I didn't know how I'd even react in this situation!

But still my mind spun with images of him stroking my hair, telling me I was beautiful, and telling me that I belonged to him. Pausing only long enough to make me confirm it with a shakey, but lusty voice. I could lean forward and rub my face against the bulge in his pants, my cheek being abraded by the coarseness of the denim. My hands had changed position and were now locked together with leather-lined gold metal plated cuffs which were chained to each other with three ring, and then bound to my neck ring with what looked like a bike lock. I was whimpering and begging to taste his cock.

Meanwhile I couldn't fight it off any longer. My body was tense and when my fingers found my little button I actually gasped at how stimulated I was. I worked at it for a little before slipping two fingers deep inside me and pulling them down to stimulate my g-spot. I knew how to make my body sing for me, and as I pinched at my tight little bud on my breast with my other hand I pictured this man who's name I didn't even know yet leaning down in my ear and whispering, "Good girl." It a strong orgasm that this fantasy ripped from me, and I knew I'd need to talk to this man again tomorrow.