Sarah pulled up in front of her house but sat in the car before going in. She'd left Tom, "Sir", just 30 minutes ago and needed to process the experience. She was filled with thoughts, questions, and vivid, visceral echos of the morning, all of which clamored for her attention and consideration.
What had just happened? What did it mean? What sort of woman does that on a first date?
To be fair, it wasn't exactly a traditional "date", was it. It was two adults who knew what they wanted and had communicated those desires to one another prior to meeting. He'd known ahead of time that she wanted - needed - to learn to submit to a man who would dominate her so perhaps what just transpired should have been expected.
But it hadn't been expected. She did not anticipate when she left the house hours earlier that she'd end up doing what she did in that quiet tree-lined alley. She was still on a journey of self-discovery and figured she would ease into things more gradually. Not that she was complaining, it had thrilled her to the core. It was just... unexpected.
Was their first fuck an anomaly ("first" fuck?)? Should she slow things down with him? Did she even want to see him again now that she had not only uttered the words, "I'm a slut and I want to be used" but had proven it by allowing him to use her? But oh, it felt sooo good to say those words, to follow his commands, to submit to his strength.
Images started to crowd out the questions and Sarah began to lapse into the memory of being on her knees, licking and sucking as instructed, feeling him slide into her... It felt so good to let go, to be taken, to allow those "wrong", those "dirty" desires to drive her actions. She had called herself a slut yet he had called her a "good girl". He was a gentleman and she appreciated that but deep down did she want him to call her filthy names? Was he too gentlemanly? Did she desire someone more crass? More rude? What did her inner slut really want? She had so much to learn about her newly-developing self. Perhaps he was the right man to teach her as well as to allow her to discover what was coming to the surface from deep within her.
Throughout this reminiscence and among all of the questions and the thoughts, one particular emotion was conspicuously absent. Sarah felt absolutely no shame for what she'd done and what she'd allowed him to do. Upon realizing this, a different emotion began to rise; she was proud of what she had done. She was finally allowing her true sexual self to emerge. All her life she'd known, to greater or lesser degrees, that she craved submission and perhaps now she'd found a man who would take the reins she longed to hand over.
Sarah gathered her things, preparing to walk to her house from where she'd parked on the street. She began to open the car door before remembering that she was filled with more than just thoughts and questions so she grabbed a sweatshirt from the back seat to tie around her waist.
---
That afternoon, Sarah was in the kitchen when her phone alerted her of a new email. She was in the midst of making tea so she finished the pour, lowered the bag into the scalding water, and picked up her phone. Excitement rose in her chest when she saw that the sender was Tom Smith.
<<< Sarah, this morning was wonderful and I'd like to see you again.
<<< If you're available on Saturday morning at 9:00 and would like to meet, please respond with the following phrase,
<<< "Yes Sir, on Saturday at 9:00 I'll be wherever you tell me to be and do whatever you tell me to do."
<<< If you wish to meet, write that and nothing more.
<<< If there is anything else you'd like to ask or discuss you may follow your response with a second email.
<<< -Mr. Smith
---
Soon after pressing "Send", Tom received Sarah's response. He smiled broadly upon reading the single sentence, repeated verbatim.
Three minutes later came a second email,
<<< Sir, if I may make a request, would you please tell me what to wear?
Damn, she beat him to it! Hoping she'd respond positively, he had already begun composing an email prescribing her attire.
<<< Your eagerness pleases me and the appropriate tone of your request is noted and appreciated.
<<< Wear jeans, boots, a shirt, and a jacket; leather if you have one. Unlike our first meeting, this time you will wear panties.
<<< Do not wear earrings.
Sarah felt happy that she had pleased him and his direct instructions elicited a warmth within her. But no earrings? What was that about?
---
On Saturday morning, both arrived on time; she in her car and him on a motorcycle with a second helmet strapped to the rear seat.
"Are you OK riding on the back?"
She said she was so he helped her with the helmet then handed her a pair of riding gloves. Once they were both ready, she gripped his shoulders, placed her left foot on the peg, swung her right leg over the back of the bike, then wrapped her arms around his torso.
Up into the hills they rode. Sarah did not know a lot about motorcycles but it seemed obvious to her that this one was both powerful and agile. He operated it with calm, practiced skill and she felt safe and at ease as they wound their way past twisted oaks, finally stopping at a small suburban park with a Spanish name.
After parking and removing their gear, they walked until they reached the base of a long staircase built into the side of a hill. They ascended the rustic wood steps and sat at the top overlooking distant hills and a nearby baseball diamond. Large trees provided shade and seclusion.
"Thank you for meeting me today, Sarah. Last week was wonderful but for all I knew, you might have been content with it as a one-and-done sort of thing. That obviously would have been your prerogative but I'm very glad you're here with me now."
"I've been thinking about all of this a lot, Sir. The power dynamic you and I discussed leading up to last week and then all of the things we did there in that alley; all of that taps into a very deep part of me that I need to explore. The way you commanded me, took me, the way you used me, the way you fucked me... to be honest with you and honest with myself, it felt so good and it felt so right."
Tom reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a thin piece of red leather. It had snaps on the ends and was similar to a dog collar but the treated leather was neatly stitched. He placed the collar on his thigh but said nothing about it.
"You told me last week that you're a slut."
That word. A surge of heat and excitement rose within her.
"You proved to me last week that you are a slut. A submissive, obedient, cock-hungry whore."
Sarah breathed in sharply. These filthy words excited her immensely but at the same time they challenged her. She suddenly realized that this man knew her in ways no one else had ever known her. What would he do with that knowledge?
What would he do with her?
What would she allow him to do?
