I met Katya back in my second year at university. She was older than me by about five years, and so even in the early part of our friendship she had a natural way of taking control. I've always liked that kind of confidence in a woman. What I didn't know was just how deep this dominant instinct ran in her, or how far she would be willing to push it if I gave her half a chance. But, as you might guess, I found out about that the hard way.
You have to understand, she was irresistible -- not just to a horny college kid like me -- but to everyone. She was tall, but graceful, and spoke with an easy confidence that intimidated most men. She would look you in the eye and smile in a way that made you think she knew something you didn't. That rubbed some guys the wrong way. She wasn't afraid to turn down their overly cocky advances, either, and they turned pretty sour after that. Unfortunately she didn't have much luck with the girls, either, who said she was a know it all or a bitch -- but in truth they were just jealous of her stunning beauty.
She had blonde, wavy hair, naturally full lips and a body as lean and supple as a jaguar, made all the more apparent by the form fitting black clothes she liked to wear.
I never expected to have a chance with her, and I think that was why she liked me at first: I didn't even attempt to hit on her. And I enjoyed talking to her, at the library or in the lecture hall, or out for food or coffee when our classes were done. I enjoyed spending time with her and could make her laugh, and between the jealous girls and the frustrated boys, my friendship meant a lot to her.
I thought that was all it was -- a friendship -- but later I found out she was hunting me (her words, not mine) the whole time. The more she hung out with me, she said, the more she found herself attracted to what she called my 'true nature.'
'I just noticed how you would do things for me, whenever I asked,' she said once.
'I even played with giving you orders, saying buy me a coffee without the please. Most guys would have got mad, but you didn't even notice. You just obeyed. I liked that.'
There were other signs, too, she said. How she could interrupt me and I would listen, yet I never dared to interrupt her, even when I had something to say. How I'd just laugh when she insulted me, playfully, but never fought back.
'C'mon, Dale,' she said. 'You were my bitch from the beginning, and you didn't even know.'
It's true, but after a month or so of hanging out and getting to know each other, she made her move, and it was a hell of a move. I knew who was in charge after that, that's for sure. Though it was only the first step along the journey of my enslavement. Looking back, it's amazing to see how smoothly she pulled it off. Knowing what she wanted from the start, she took away my freedom, bit by bit, and trained me to be her perfect devoted slave.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about that first move she made: the first time she really risked things to find out if I really was the type of person she could take over, after all...
It was a day like any other: the sun was out and we'd just finished our usual lunch together at the university cafΓ©. We walked and talked, though as usual I struggled to concentrate on the conversation whenever I looked at her and nearly lost my breath at the sight of her. That day she was being a bit more touchy than usual, putting an arm around my shoulders, standing close to me. She smelled like vanilla, and it was intoxicating to my young mind.
'So what are your plans for tonight, anyway?' she asked casually, smiling. 'Got a hot date?'
I shook my head, mildly embarrassed. 'No, haven't been that lucky in the old dating department to be honest.'
'Oh really? Hot guy like you?'
I knew she was teasing me but something in her eye gave me doubt.
I shrugged. 'I don't know, I just suck at dating. We message back and forth, but then the day comes and it's like they lose interest.'
'I could help you with that,' she said. I stared at her, but she wasn't joking.
'Sure,' she went on. 'Why don't you practice on me tonight? You take me out, and I'll tell you how to do it right. I'll tell you exactly what to do to impress me. Cos if I'm impressed? I guarantee any slut you're matching with will get her little mind blown.'
I laughed, but my heart skipped about eight beats. 'Why do I feel like this is just your way of getting a free meal out of me?' I said.
'Oh, it is,' she said, grinning. 'But guess what? You're still gonna do it, aren't you?'
And of course, she had me there. Thinking back, I really was her bitch, wasn't I?
She met me at my dorm room, and immediately made me change clothes. 'No way are you taking someone like me out wearing that,' she said, eyebrows raised. 'Get that nice jacket, and your black shoes. Come on.'
That was only the beginning. It soon became apparent that she was taking her role as dating coach very seriously. For the whole dinner, everything I did was subject to correction and judgement. She told me what to order, and how (more confidence!). How to move (slower). Even how to eat. Over and over she said things like 'Your dream girl would want you to...' or 'If you want to get your dream girl? You better...'
I wanted to believe she was hitting on me so badly, but I couldn't believe it. She seemed so far out of my league, yet it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way she was treating me. At the end of the dinner I walked her back to her apartment across the road, substantially more broke, for all I cared. I decided to test the waters.
'You keep telling me about what I should do for my dream girl on the date,' I said. 'But you haven't said anything about what she wants after.'
'That's because what happens after depends on how well the date goes. If she likes you or not. And judging by tonight's performance, I don't know if you won her over.'
'So, you're the coach. Tell me how to win her over.'
We stopped at her front door. She tilted her head, thinking. 'Well, that all depends on the girl,' she said.
I persisted. 'Tell me about her, then,' I said. 'My dream girl.'
Now, she smiled. 'I think your dream girl is the kind of person who knows what she wants,' she said. I agreed with that, and she went on. 'So by now, she either tells you to get lost, or she invites you in.'