The Right Submission

"My favourite position is on top." Will raised an eyebrow and the room erupted in giggles. "I'm named after my favourite flower." My face turned red as all eyes fixed on me. "I own nine pairs of handcuffs." Will chortled and pocketed the scrap of paper.

Olivia picked herself off the rug and sidled up to me on the couch with a knowing smirk. "So, Rose." She put emphasis on my name like she was a detective revealing the killer's identity at long last. "Do you really own nine pairs of handcuffs?"

I rolled my eyes rather than dignify her accusation. Wrong move.

"She's not denying it!"

I threw a furious look at Will. Two truths and a lie was getting out of hand and I needed to put my foot down. More than that, I needed to stay in control. "Not me, I'm afraid. The second sentence is obviously the lie."

"You don't have to be embarrassed about it," said Olivia. I could tell by her unchanging expression that she'd already made up her mind. "So your favourite position isn't on top. I guess you're a bottom."

The room again erupted in giggles like we were all horny teenagers again and not responsible adults with jobs who stayed friends after college. And who inexplicably tried to relive our younger years with dumb drinking games that inevitably became sexually charged.

"This is unexpected, Rose," said Mark. "You always seemed so...straight-laced. I never thought you'd be into kink."

"Good girls have bad secrets," sang Olivia.

I gave Olivia the angriest look I could muster, and fought to keep myself calm. "Uh, guys? That one wasn't me. I'm serious. I don't do that sort of kinky shit." That last claim was technically true. I'd never been kinky before, though not because it turned me off. It's just hard to bring up to a partner that you might have interest in that sort of thing. I looked over at Will. He winked at me over his beer and I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. We'd only known each other a couple weeks, and while we'd slept together, we hadn't had 'the relationship talk' yet. We hadn't so much as established whether or not we were exclusive, and I was thinking of telling a second thing that might make him leave me in disgust? I'd been so lucky for him to even accept me and go out in the first place. Best to keep stray fancies to myself.

"Hey Will," said Beth. For a moment I perked up, thinking my friends were done tormenting me. Of course my friends were never done tormenting me. "Has Rose shown you her handcuffs yet?" Beth leaned forward on her haunches like she was straining all the way across the room to get in close. "What do you even call a bunch of handcuffs? A collection? An assortment?"

Will leaned down to pass the bowl of papers to Grace. "A chain of handcuffs," he said, leaning back on the couch and slipping an arm around my shoulder.

"I dated a guy who loved handcuffs," mused Erica. "He preferred it when I put them on him though."

"Mark's tied me up a couple times," said Beth. "It's kinda fun every now and then."

"Lucky you." I smacked Will's hand away, trying, and no doubt failing, to look angry rather than mortified. "Hate to disappoint you all, but I don't have any handcuffs."

"You're not a top?" Will's hand persisted up and down my back.

"No."

"So you're a bottom then."

"No!" Even I was taken aback at how forcefully I said it. Will withdrew his hand and I regretted my outburst. I wasn't even sure if it was true. "I mean, no, this one isn't me. Some asshole in the room is having a laugh at my expense."

"I dunno," said Olivia with a sidelong glance at the rest of the group. "You always struck me as a bit repressed, Rose. You're the perfect candidate for--"

"That's enough." Grace finally spoke, and there was an air of command to her voice I rarely heard. She reached into the bowl and fished out the next pair of truths coupled with a lie. "Let's move on."

Relief flooded my limbs. No wonder I'd always liked Grace. She was calm, a great listener, and had that uncanny ability to know how anyone felt at a given time. She never abused it either, only used her powers for good.

Grace read the next paper, but my mind was elsewhere. I didn't usually get like this during drinking games. Although I didn't always enjoy them, I always played along. We'd banter, we'd laugh, we'd swap salacious stories that always ended just before the action but left everyone with no doubt as to the ending. I'd participate when it was my turn, but with a touch of apprehension, like I was intruding on their good wholesome sexcapades with a perspective that didn't quite belong. They never showed any discomfort, and they were even pushing me harder since Mark and Beth got engaged and stopped feeding them details. I glanced at Will out of the corner of my eye. Maybe getting engaged was my solution. We weren't anywhere near that stage, but we'd mesh together with time, right? Our lack of personal chemistry was offset by his other qualities. He was kind, gorgeous, accepting of course. And great in bed. Sex can be a dealbreaker if it's bad. As I ran my fingers down his arm, something stirred in my mind. What if he was the one with the handcuffs? Maybe our problems were due to a lack of openness, and a bit of kink would straighten it all out.

***

"That was fun," said Will. "I'm glad you took me to meet your friends."

"Uh huh," I said. I wasn't all that annoyed at my friends; I was used to them treating my sexuality as a bit of a sensation. It did bother me that Will had joined in so readily.

"Tired?" Will pulled me in close, the warmth of his body a buffer against the cold night.

"A little."

His nose nuzzled the top of my head. "Come back to my place," he whispered. "I have something that'll help you relax."

I smirked into his shoulder as we crossed an empty street. I thought about falling asleep in his arms, and that was exactly what I needed. Warmth and security. "That sounds wonderful."

"It will be, I promise." Will pinched my cheek and laughed. "And speaking of wonderful, I've been fantasizing all day about that ass of yours."

I said nothing but my cheeks burned and my confidence melted away. I liked sex, right? Right. So why was I still so awkward and jammed up whenever someone else mentioned it?

Will guided me off the sidewalk and into his apartment building. I felt small, like a child being led. No, I couldn't think like that. I was an adult. I was mature, I was with Will, things were going great, and maybe tonight we could discuss making our relationship official. We'd been on a few dates, we'd had sex, and we'd be having it again soon if his hand on my ass was any indication. I wanted this, didn't I?

"You got really flustered tonight," said Will.

"Lost in thought," I muttered.

"Huh?" We were standing at the elevator, and his face was confused in the bright light.

"Oh. You meant with the others. Yeah, I guess I'm not comfortable having my, uh, private life discussed so openly." But even this confession seemed wrong. I wasn't afraid to talk about my admittedly limited sexual experience when it was just me, Olivia, and Grace. We talked about everything without shame. It's how I knew Olivia only put out on the first date if the guy she was with didn't insist on paying for everything, and Grace was taking a break from dating after a string of unsatisfactory women.

"It was cute," said Will, and I winced again. "But all that talk of bondage got me thinking." He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "I would love to tie you up."

Something in my midsection clenched with anticipation.

"I would love to see you helpless."

Images flashed before me. Will wrapping rope around my arms. Will forcing me to suck his dick. Will spanking me. I whimpered.

"And I would LOVE for you to obey my every command. Just for tonight." Will unlocked his apartment door and had to drag me inside as my legs had decided to stop working.

My heart drummed a thunderous staccato against my chest, but the noise was nothing compared to the percussion in my head. Fear, arousal, longing, humiliation. What did I want? I broke away from Will's embrace to freshen up in the washroom, giving myself a chance to think. I peed, splashed water on my face, and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were wide and my skin flushed. "Calm down," I told my reflection. She didn't stir. "I want to do this." My reflection raised an eyebrow and frowned. It was true, so why was she doubting me? "I need to do this." She hesitated, then gave the subtlest of nods. There it was. I needed to do this. For Will, for our new relationship, for my own curious desire. The thought of being controlled, of being held helpless only made that desire burn hotter. There had always been a few embers of submission there. Maybe now was the time to stoke the flames.

The lights were off when I exited the washroom, but I navigated my way to the couch from memory. Curious how I'd been here before and never thought of inviting him back to my place.

Will was waiting for me, his tall figure outlined from the glow of the streetlights through the window. He stirred as I sat down next to him and took my hand. "I've been waiting for this all day, Rose," he growled. His hand crept up my arm and down my side, caressing my breast.

"I have too," I whispered back.

"You've been waiting for me to feel your body?" He turned to face me, and now two hands were running up and down my body, each pinch of his fingers sending chills down my spine.

"Yes." I reached out, smoothing my palm over his firm, muscular chest. "And to feel yours."

"Getting turned on with your friends but not able to show it?" he asked, and he leaned in. His lips met mine in the sort of firm, possessive kiss I love, yet something in me recoiled.

I pulled back. I needed to temper my excitement, give myself a chance to breathe and assess my own feelings. "What did you mean by tying me up and seeing me helpless?"

"Ah." He leaned back on the couch, and his hands left my body. Strange how cold and incomplete I felt without them. I had half a mind to tell him not to stop, to grope to his heart's content, but he was speaking and he sounded serious. "I know I should have told you this at the start, but I guess I was waiting for the right time. The truth is, I'm a dominant. I'm a master. I get off on control. If you're not into that, I get it. I won't push you. But if you are..."

So many emotions were threatening to break free, but the one I let out was my excitement. I was willing to do this. "I've never...I've never done this before. But I guess I'm, you know, curious? It's kind of exciting to think of you taking control."

He smiled in the dark and kissed me again. Then his hands were back, pulling me into him until I was in his lap. His erection poked my thigh and his hands crushed my ass cheeks. "Rule one," he growled into my ear. "Refer to me as master."

"Um, ok," I said, wishing I didn't feel and sound so uncertain. "Master?"

"Good. Rule two. Tell me to stop at any time, and I will. Rule three." He smirked and began kissing along my jaw and down my neck.

I shivered. "What's rule three?"

He stopped and stared at me until I realized my mistake.

"What's rule three, master?"

"Rule three is you react only. Move when touched and speak when spoken to." He kissed me again, softer this time, and stroked my hair. I purred. Something about the way he switched from commanding to gentle turned me on and reminded me how lucky I was to have him. More images flashed in my mind, some good, some bad. I couldn't decide which ones I wanted and which I didn't. "What would your friends say if they knew?" he chuckled. I winced but didn't reply.

"Stand up and turn around," he said.

I complied, and he ran his hands down my back, pulling them away when he reached my ass. A sudden sharp smack caught me on the right ass cheek and caused me to hiss in surprise.

"Too hard?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Master," I quickly added. Something was wrong but it wasn't the pain. I was used to pain. I could handle it. I wanted more. I wanted him to take me here, to force me down and have his way with me. To be as rough as possible. What I couldn't understand was the accompanying feeling in my stomach that I was sinking down and the walls were rising up and suffocating me. "More, please."

He lifted my skirt up, exposing me ass and thin panties. He struck me again, this time across the left cheek with a loud smack. Twice more, once on each cheek. "You have no idea how hot this is," he growled. He smacked me again. "You're so fucking hot, Rose."

"God," I said, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe if I squeezed hard enough I could push out the intrusive thoughts and only the hot, horny ones would remain. Then he reached around and grabbed my dick. I gasped. Not in embarrassment; I was out about being trans. I wasn't ready yet.

"You're not hard. Why aren't you hard yet, Rose?" he chastised.

I knew it wasn't going to work. "I told you last time," I said. "I don't just get hard. It takes time." I pushed his hand away from my crotch.

"Aren't you forgetting your place?" he hissed. His other hand let go of my skirt and grabbed my arm painfully.

Something burst inside me. Anger, humiliation, and something else. "Let go!" I spun around and he took a step back.

"Woah." Will threw up his palms. "What's wrong?"

"This isn't working for me."

"Oh?" He sounded disappointed, but there was also a harsh note to his voice as though he was controlling his temper. "Do I need to put you over my knee like a bad--"

"No." I shivered, this time from apprehension, not arousal. I knew I could be throwing away another relationship with another person I'd initially thought was too good for me. I didn't even know why, I only knew I needed to get away. The emotions were back, they were swirling in my head, and I wasn't sure which one was coming out next. "I'm sorry, Will, I'm not in the mood tonight. I...I need to go."

"What the hell, Rose?" He raised his voice, sounding offended. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on with you. Kink is all about communication."

"I can't," I said, and for once I felt like I was being entirely honest. "I'll talk to you later, ok? But I can't be your, I dunno. Kinky sub or whatever. Not tonight. I'm sorry, Will." I didn't dare look back at him as I hurried to the door and grabbed my shoes. I didn't put them on until I was outside, the cold empty night reminding me I was alone.

***

"Damn, he broke up with you?" Olivia put a hand on my arm. "What an asshole." Olivia, Grace, and I were finishing lunch in the cozy corner of a cafe, having one of our earnest discussions. Olivia reached out to snag one of my leftover fries.

"It was kinda mutual," I said, smacking her hand away. "I knew whatever tenuous relationship we'd built up over the past two weeks was unlikely to survive me walking out on him." I sighed and kneaded my temples with my knuckles. "I was willing to try and patch things up, you know, apologize for what I did and talk about it. But he was pissed at me. It's hard to be apologetic when someone is pissed at you."

"Nah, you dodged a bullet, Rose," said Olivia. "Sorry to say it cuz I know you liked him, but sometimes you like a guy and he turns out to suck. Sometimes he wants to do anal and you hate anal. Or sometimes he wants to do weird kinky shit and you're not into it. Happens."

"That's the thing," I said, lowering my voice to almost a whisper. Olivia and Grace leaned in like we were plotting something conspiratorial. I glanced around to make sure nobody else was close. "I was into it."

"Oh? Ooohhhh." Olivia's mouth formed its own O-shape to match what she was saying. Grace said nothing but her eyes narrowed and she leaned in closer.

"Or," I continued, "I thought I was into it. Something was wrong though."

"How do you mean?" asked Grace.

"It's hard to explain." I leaned back a bit and thought over everything that had happened between me and Will last night for the third time. "I guess it didn't feel like he entirely respected me." I wondered if this was a turning point for me. Will was far from the first person I'd fucked who hadn't respected me. I'd had partners, both men and women, who'd seen me as a 'dick girl,' but once I'd started seriously dating, I'd always held out for someone who could see me for more than anatomy. Will had been that person. "It's not like he fetishized me, but he did make me uncomfortable."

"Comfort is key," said Olivia, reaching again for my fries. "Can't be comfortable with a guy who wants to chain you to the wall and whip you."

"He didn't say anything about that," I said, smacking her hand away again. I felt that surge of annoyance I'd felt last night, as though she, like Will, was satisfied only understanding me superficially. "He berated me when I wasn't turned on enough."

"He saw you as existing to serve him and fluff his ego," said Grace. She always came in at the right moment to catch me off guard, and now her eyes bored into mine with unblinking intensity. "And even if you wanted that on some level, you needed to know that he cared deep down about you and your comfort."

"Shit," I said. "Maybe that's it. You're a genius, Grace." I ran my fingers through my hair and watched as Grace reached across the table, slipped her hand past the remnants of my grilled chicken sandwich, and took one of my fries. She ate it in small bites, never breaking eye contact.

"Unfair," said Olivia.

"Was he the first person you tried kink with?" asked Grace.

"Yeah," I said. "If you're willing to stretch the definition of 'tried.'" Grace didn't respond, though she seemed more alert. Maybe she was sitting straighter, or maybe she was watching me more closely.

We left the cafe and wandered a couple blocks before Olivia remembered she was meeting her sister. She was always meeting someone. "Remember, Rose," she said, "you deserve someone who loves you and makes you happy. Don't settle." She gave me a hug and left. Something about her compassion hurt. I wanted to yell after her that it was hopeless. What was the point of dating when it only resulted in disappointment? Better to stay alone and hookup on occasion. Then again, I still had someone who'd listen to me rant.

"Got anywhere you need to be?" I asked Grace.

"Nope. In fact, I was wondering if you'd like to talk more. You seemed to realize something about what you want, and if so, I'm always here for you."

There was more I wanted to talk about. I resisted the urge to hug her because she wasn't a huggy sort of person. But she sure as hell was the sort that would respect wherever you came from. "My place is nearby. Wanna go there?" The city during the day felt so impersonal, like I was a stranger among strangers.

Safely in my apartment, we settled onto the couch and I reached automatically for the remote. It's not that there was anything on Netflix I wanted to see, it's just that my brain associated the couch with glazed eyes and pretending to watch shows while playing with my phone. Ugh.

Grace put a hand on mine and pushed the remote back down. Her hand was firm and gentle and I complied. "Did he do anything specific you didn't want? Was he too rough?" Grace asked.

I grimaced and ran over the events again. "That's what I thought at first, but no. If anything, I wish he'd been rougher. The meanness was so weird but in a good way. Like I said, it felt like he didn't respect me, and then I resented him. I'm convinced there's a difference between meanness and disrespect, and he crossed from one to the other. I think It made the whole experience awkward."

"He pushed you, and you weren't comfortable."

"Yeah." I grimaced. "He wanted me to call him master, and it felt so weird."

Grace snorted with quiet derision. "Of course he did. His ineptitude was matched only by his arrogance. He is no master."