Mystery Dom

I felt good after my stranger left. I spent several minutes kneeling there, my head swimming. I felt like I could handle anything. I could last the full week without orgasm, even if Sir deliberately edged me every evening. I'd be good for him, as long as I was his.

But as the afternoon passed, a note of discord entered my thoughts. Would I be able to last, really? A few hours ago I hadn't thought so, what had changed since then? And if I couldn't, if I had to beg him to fuck me, would he be disappointed? He had said he wouldn't be, but could I believe him?

Yes, I told myself.

Would I still be his? Yes, I could trust him.

Would I be disappointed in myself? Yes, and that was okay. Well, it was a bit silly, but that was okay. I could tell him I was being silly and he wouldn't judge me for it, because I was his and I could trust him.

I went to sit on my couch with my thoughts looping like that, and before long I realized it was 8 p.m. and I hadn't had dinner. I thought I probably should eat, so I got up and stared at my kitchen cabinets for a while. The idea of making a sandwich didn't really appeal. I sat down again. Eventually I ended up in bed, still naked, and eventually I slept.

The morning was easier, because I had a routine. I got up with my alarm, and had coffee and cereal while I wondered if I was able to endure as much pain as he wanted to give me, or if he was holding back. My routine was interrupted because I hadn't set clothes out the night before, so I spent a few minutes looking at my wardrobe while I decided I could trust that he wasn't going to leave me over my pain tolerance. Luckily my "time to actually leave" alarm focused me briefly, and I grabbed some things mostly at random. If I didn't have a section of my wardrobe dedicated to work clothes, I might have shown up in yoga leggings.

I was about ten minutes late to work, which still left me the first person on my team to arrive. That was normal, this wasn't the type of company to closely track hours as long as work was getting done.

Which for my part, today, it mostly wasn't. I sat down and logged in, then looked at my screen for a while. When I heard someone come in I realized it had locked from inactivity. Throughout the day I would zone out, then something would catch my attention, I'd be able to focus for a few minutes, and then I'd zone out again.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized this was my second work day in a row of getting almost nothing done. Probably I wouldn't fall behind enough for anyone to notice, not today. But tomorrow I'd need to snap out of this or my manager might gently pull me aside to ask if I was okay, and boy would that be an awkward conversation.

But imagining the conversation made me realize that I was quite clearly not okay. What was wrong? The words "sub drop" came to mind, I'd heard them somewhere online and - if I'd picked up the meaning correctly from context - they seemed appropriate.

The cure for sub drop was probably aftercare, so I decided I'd get some of that. Just making the decision helped a bit, and in the last two hours of the day I got maybe an hour's worth of work done.

When I got home I messaged my stranger "I need you" and curled up on my bed. I didn't want to break out into sobs just yet, so I kept my eyes screwed shut and my breathing deliberately controlled. I heard my phone buzz with a text message, and then a phone call, but I ignored it both times. They weren't part of my plan.

A few minutes later I heard the front door open. At that point I realized he probably didn't know what was going on, and he might start creeping around softly to keep me in suspense. I didn't want that, but I also didn't want to try raising my voice enough to call down to him.

I have a small bedside table where I keep various sundries, my alarm clock, and the ever-growing stack of books I'm planning to read. My solution was to blindly grope forwards and push the table over. There was a drawn out crashing noise as different objects hit the floor - not very loud because of the carpet, but apparently loud enough. I heard him call out "are you okay?" and take the stairs two at a time. Then he asked "what happened?" from the bedroom door.

Normally I'm very hesitant when making requests. "Would you mind," and "don't worry if it's a hassle", that sort of thing. I've learned that people tend to prefer that over just being ordered around. But when I get overwhelmed that tends to slip. I just told him, "hold me."

He walked around my bed, slowly at first, probably because he had to pick his way over the mess I'd just made. Then he climbed in and started to spoon me from behind.

My plan for aftercare had been that I could cry while he held me. He was holding me now, and it felt hesitant but still comforting. By way of explanation I said the words "sub drop", and then I let myself drop my control. I felt his hold on me tighten as the first sobs started to escape.

Some time later I mostly stopped crying. He was still with me. He hadn't spoken since he entered the room - or if he had, I hadn't been listening - but when I'd been quiet for a minute or so he said, "I'm sorry. I guess I fucked up."

He didn't elaborate. After a few moments I told him, "say more."

He told me, as explanation-not-excuse, that he'd had a previous relationship with a sub who had similar interests as me. She'd been experienced when they'd met, and had been the one to draw him out. It had been a great education for him - but she'd needed very little in the way of aftercare. In fact, she often preferred not to receive it.

She had told him she was unusual in that regard. And he normally remembered it. But something about my body language yesterday had triggered a habit that shouldn't have been triggered, and - it's not that he'd forgotten that I wasn't her, he'd known that he didn't know my limits, but -

He fumbled over his words for a bit, trying to explain, but I thought I got it. In the moment he'd mixed things he knew about me with things he knew about her and invented this whole new person in his head, and that person was just different enough from me for things to go wrong. But I didn't think I could explain that any better than he could, so I just said, "makes sense." Then, "helps to know." We were quiet for a bit longer as feelings passed over me and through me.

We spent the next few hours with him cuddling me. Mostly in silence, but we spoke a bit about what had happened so far and what we thought might happen soon. I didn't know how I'd be feeling going forwards, and he accepted that.

I also didn't know if I wanted to know who he was yet. I decided I didn't want to commit myself to anything in this state. So while he generously picked up the books I'd knocked on the floor, I hid myself under the duvet. My blindfold was probably somewhere under the pile, and it was easier than keeping my eyes shut.

But before he left, I shut them again and pulled the duvet away and we kissed deeply.

---

The next day I was feeling pretty normal. Maybe a little drained, but I managed to start getting work done again. Wednesday was similar. Then Thursday, my libido came back.

I hadn't expected it to be so abrupt. I was daydreaming in a meeting that could have been an email, and suddenly I was remembering our second encounter. How he'd gagged me with my own panties, and beaten my ass and cunt and clamped tits. I idly rubbed my thighs together under the table.

I managed to resist going to the bathroom afterwards, but when I got home I stripped, and I rubbed myself a little. I tried to remember what I'd been wearing that night. I'd come home and got changed -

Okay, yes. I found the outfit, and put it on. Then I started to partially remove it. I rolled up the hem of the thin black skirt and tucked it into the waistband. I pulled the blue top up over my head, but kept my arms in the sleeves. That made the next parts a a bit awkward, since to move my hands from in front to behind me I had to bring them to the floor and step through like my top was a skipping rope. But I felt like if I tried to just put my arms through the sleeves directly, the fabric wouldn't bunch up right or something, and it would look slightly off.

I undid my bra strap, letting the cups fall forwards, and then brought my hands back in front. I found my blindfold and placed it on my forehead but not over my eyes. I found somewhere to lean my phone to get the angle I wanted.

I took the panties off and stuffed them in my mouth. They were dry - my pussy was wet, but not

that

wet - and I had trouble not gagging, but I made sure they were almost entirely inside, just part of the waistband dangling out.

Without picking my phone up, I tapped the screen to set the camera on a timer. Then I stood in position, pulled the blindfold down over my eyes, and stepped back through my arms. I heard the camera shutter click several times, adjusting my body slightly to try to get variety.

When it finished I pulled my arms out of my sleeves, my panties out of my mouth, and looked at the photos. Blindfold with my hands behind my back, my cunt and tits exposed, and my panties trailing out of my mouth, I hope I looked a lot like I had done that day, a week ago. There was just one thing missing. I picked one of them - one where my arms were pushed back and my chest forwards - and sent it to him.

18:52, Me: My tits are missing your clamps, sir

18:53,???: Mm. I'm sure they can be reunited soon.

18:53, Me: Saturday, sir?

That was my way of telling him: yes, I'm still up for Saturday. I still didn't know what he had planned. There was a bag in the corner of the room, sitting ready for Saturday, and I didn't even know what it contained.

18:53,???: Saturday

18:54, Me: I'm going to be good for you until then, sir

18:55,???: Happy to hear it, slut

18:55,???: We're going to have a lot of fun together

18:57, Me: And, um, sir

18:57, Me: So that you know

18:57, Me: You don't need to go easy on me

18:57,???: :)

---

It was difficult not to cum that night, but I managed it. I wore the same bra and panties to work the next day. I was worried I'd be unfocused again, but the warm glow in my loins managed to be pleasant without distracting me much. And then I spent the evening with my hand on my clit, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

He messaged me an address just before noon.

5pm. Bring the bag and your blindfold

. Looking it up, it seemed to be a somewhat isolated cottage half an hour's drive towards London.

He hadn't told me what to wear, so I figured whatever I chose I probably wouldn't be wearing it for long. But I still wanted to look good, so I put on a matching underwear set and a strapless yellow sundress.

I left early becuse of nerves, and barely noticed the drive. Before long I drove through an open gate in a tall hedge, and parked next to a single other car, though there was space for several more. The house looked fairly normal, stucco walls and a tiled roof. Maybe a little larger than similar ones I'd seen, and much more hidden from outside view.

I'd received a message while I drove:

when you arrive, ring the back doorbell and put your blindfold on

. So I picked up my bag, walked along a path around to the back, and did as instructed.

I was getting nervous. I'd thought maybe I should tell someone where I was going in case I disappeared, but then there'd have been a whole Conversation that I hadn't wanted to have - not a judgemental one, but still embarrassing - and I didn't like thinking about that. So although I hadn't decided not to tell anyone, because I knew that would be a dumb decision... I also hadn't actually told anyone, and I was just now realizing that that was approximately as dumb.

But then I heard the door open, and he said "good girl", and put a hand behind my head and another on my hip and kissed me again, and I felt safe.

He took my bag and my hand and led me blindly inside, telling me to mind the step, and around a few corners. "I'm not quite finished setting up. Get changed and wait here, no need to stay in position or anything. I'll be back in about half an hour, I'll knock before I let myself back in. Okay?"

"Yes Sir," and he left me again and I heard a door close. I removed my blindfold. I was in a bedroom, or at any rate a room with a bed. The bed had black latex sheets and no duvet or pillow, so it didn't seem like its primary purpose was sleep. One corner of the room had a St Andrew's Cross, and there was a sex swing dangling from another.

And he was setting up somewhere else. So, okay. Most likely this cottage was used as a dungeon. I'd heard of places like this. I'd sometimes looked them up while horny and fantasizing. They were expensive. How much was he spending on me?

I relieved myself in the en suite, then returned to the bedroom. My bag wasn't here, but on the bed there was a smaller cloth bag that I recognized as my own. Inside was my outfit, the same black lingerie I'd been wearing the first time we'd "met".

Except not quite. I got naked and started to dress myself, and as I did I realized that some of the items weren't mine. The stockings and garter belt, they were. But the thong panties had bows on the sides, so they could be pulled away if the waistband was untied. I didn't own any like this. Had he brought them to my room last week, planning in advance that I'd wear them today? Normally I would have worn panties over the straps of the garter belt, so they could be removed. But that wasn't an issue with this pair, so they went underneath where they could hug my body more tightly.

The bra and the high heels were mine, but the collar wasn't. It was similar, but mine had a D-ring in the back, and this had one in front. Where a leash might get attached. I hoped it would do.

There was a hood, too. Black spandex, with a hole in front for my mouth and a large cut-out in back that my hair could pull through. I tried it on, and thanks to an extra layer of fabric over my eyes, it completely blocked all light. I tested, and I couldn't even tell if the light in the room was on or off. That was much more effective than my own blindfold, which let in some light around the edges.

When I was dressed and I'd tested the hood, I stretched myself out on the bed, being careful not to poke the sheets with the points of my heels. The rubber was smooth and cool to lie upon. It was slightly larger than my own bed, and I could spread eagle myself without reaching the corners. I bucked my hips up and down a bit, pretending my limbs were tied in place. Or simply held down by four strong men, while a fifth knelt over me on the bed. Would he spank my tits, making my cry out as they bounced around? Fuck my pussy mercilessly? Would he finish inside me, or on me, showing the world how I'd been used? And when he was through with me, would he trade places with one of the others?

After that fantasy was played out, I got up and walked precariously to the sex swing, feet tapping on the polished floorboards. I'd gotten these shoes for self bondage, and I'd been tempted to get ones that I didn't think I'd be able to walk in at all. I could get everything else ready and put them on on the bed. But I'd realized that I'd probably occasionally forget something, and then I'd rather hobble to get it than take my shoes off. So I'd gone for four inch heels, which was enough that I had to take short steps, each heel just barely landing in front of the other toe.

I gripped the straps supporting the swing and hopped up into it. It had a fairly narrow seat, but concave and flexible enough that I could nestle my ass into it without feeling like I was going to fall out, as long as I leaned back. On each side, two loops dangled down. My legs would fit through the lower ones and my wrists through the smaller ones.

Careful to keep my balance, I tried out the leg straps. One by one I drew my legs up to my chest, then threaded my feet through the loop, careful not to catch the heels. I positioned the loops just above my knees and then I fiddled with the appropriate bits of plastic to shorten the straps. My legs were pulled up and apart, exposing the crotch of my panties. I didn't place my wrists through the other straps, but I held on to them and imagined I was restrained in place. My tits available to stroke and fondle, my pussy there for the taking. Apparently cocks can get deeper at certain angles than others. Would I be able to feel the difference? I pretended to struggle and kick, having no leverage so I just wobbled around stupidly.

For whatever reason this fantasy was less fun than the last. After a few minutes I carefully freed my legs and hopped down, and made my way to the last piece of furniture.

The cross was fully upright, and comfortably padded. It had several attachment points: cuffs for each hand and foot, a collar, leather buckled straps in the middle of each limb, and two more straps for the torso. The cuffs and collar were attached by carabiners, so if someone was already wearing a set, they didn't need to swap into these - except my collar was facing the wrong way.

I wanted to know what it would feel like. Spreading my legs, I didn't think I could cuff both my ankles without faceplanting. But I did cuff my right ankle, and buckled that thigh to the frame. Feeling behind me, I managed to grab the straps that went around my waist and just under my breasts, and secured those. Then with just one hand, I managed to cuff my left wrist and buckle my forearm in place. Half bound, I stretched my free leg and arm out to pretend I was fully helpless.

The pretense made me start twitching my cunt back and forwards, wishing it had something to grind against. But then a knock at the door interrupted my fantasizing. His voice was muffled, but he spoke loudly: "on your knees in front of the door, slut."

I made an "ah!" noise and then tried to call back loudly enough that he'd hear me, too. "Um, just a minute Sir!" Had it been half an hour already? I frantically started unbuckling.

I'd freed my arm and one of the torso straps before I guess he lost patience. "I'm coming in, slut. Shut your eyes if you have to." And I shut them and heard the door open.

Footsteps walked quickly over to me, and then the hood was pulled over my head. He took my hands in his and roughly pinned them back up next to the cuffs. His leg pinned mine in place. The soft fabric of his clothing pressed against my body and his breath was hot in my ear as he asked "did you get lonely without me, slut?"

I swallowed. "Sorry Sir. I was curious."

"About?"

"I wanted to know what it was like, Sir."

"And?"

Oh god. "I liked it Sir. I..." I swallowed. "You can't really use my holes like this. So I felt like if I'm tied up here, it's because you just want to hurt me Sir. Because you like it so much." Because he simply enjoyed causing me pain, enjoyed it enough that he didn't need anything else from an encounter. "I- that was hot, Sir."

"Mm. So after begging me to fuck you -" he had one leg free, and he pushed his thigh into my crotch and started grinding, making me gasp - "you're fantasizing about me not doing that at all? You just want to be a painslut for me, is that it?"

That wasn't it at all, I definitely wanted to get fucked. I just also liked the idea that there were many ways he could enjoy my body. "No Sir, I-" I trailed off, I couldn't find the words. I hoped he was just teasing. Before I could figure out how to reply, I felt his body adjust. He kept my legs and arms pinned, but he pulled away from my crotch, and his body slid down a bit, and then I yelped when he bit my nipple sharply.

"I'll use your body how I feel like, whore," he told me.

I was pretty sure that meant that yes, he was just teasing and he still planned to fuck me. "Yes Sir."