Cassies Texts

We had met online two weeks ago. It wasn't an obvious match, but she had swiped right and so I swiped back thinking what the hell.

Her name was Cassie. She was a quiet and quirky academic. She could be a little awkward but it wasn't off-putting. Indeed, her awkwardness was like she was playing at it, creating a persona. But it was a persona I was learning to like. I figured she might turn out to be one of those cuddler girlfriends, physical but not freaky. She was fun and she made me look forward to seeing her. She was really pretty, about 5' 6", red hair, thin but with a bust that grabbed your eyes because of how it contrasted with her petite frame. She wore huge nerdy glasses, and her attire was not provocative but still sexy. She left you with that feeling there was something super-secret-sexy under that veneer. Given our last date, which was our third, that secret-sexy feeling emanated in no small part from a wild 10 minutes of alcohol-fueled kissing in a city park, a session she had abruptly ended with her slapping me playfully across the face, calling me a bad boy and walking off without ever looking back. But she texted me shortly thereafter, so I knew she was still interested.

We had kept texting and now it was our fourth date. We had plans for a show in a small club, to hear music I liked. About an hour before we were to meet, Cassie texted. "Change of plans? Drinks at my place instead?" Curious, but interesting. I texted back and agreed. Five minutes later, she texted, "Maybe tonight we really get to know each other? xoxoxo" You can guess what I hoped that meant. Five minutes later, another text. "Don't be late. Not even one minute." I texted back, "Don't worry! LOL" Keep it light, I thought. "Great!" she responded, and a moment later added, "But I'm serious, don't be late."

I found Cassie's apartment building. It was on the third floor of an 19th-Century clunker in Salem. The city with witches and history and who cares. Cassie buzzed me in. I ascended to her door, which was at the point of a small landing on the top floor. There was loud music on the first floor and I could hear a TV when I passed the second. At the top, I knocked. In response, my phone buzzed with a text. It was Cassie. "You're on time. Good."

Um, ok, but whatever right? I knocked again.

Buzz. "Time for quick decisions," she said. "If you want to leave, no worries, just go home. If you stay, be quick and decisive."

She had not seemed like the kind of girl who liked to play games, but then again what did I know about girls really? She was pretty, she could kiss, and she was inviting me to her place for drinks. Pretty simple formula. "I'm in," I texted back.

My phone buzzed. "Good. I'm going to open the door and step outside. You must not move. I mean be still like a statue. Except your lips."

Weird, but fascinating. "OK," I replied.

The door opened, and there she was. She was wearing a short black shirt, a black tank top and heels. "Hey babe," I said. I wouldn't say she looked slutty, not exactly, but let's just say her outfit gave me a lot of hope for the rest of the night.

"No talking," she said. She walked up and started kissing me. Deeply, with tongue. "Literally no moving," she reminded me and she ran her hands over my shoulders, down back, and then she squeezed my ass pulling me against her. My cock started to move and I knew she felt it. "That counts as movement," Cassie whispered in my ear. "I'll only keep kissing you as long as you're not hard." Cruel thing to say because that mere reference led to exactly that. She giggled and went back inside and closed the door.

Huh? This made no sense. I was left standing there, on a random landing in Salem, hard as a rock. I stared at the peephole, assuming she was watching, and left wondering whether I should text or knock or what? While trying to figure that out, my phone buzzed. "Take your shirt off, drop it in front of the door and step back. Or leave now and don't ever call me again."

I was floored. Was this same nerdy girl I had been getting to know? But why not, I thought. That skirt, those heels, that kiss. This was starting to look good. I did as instructed. The door opened, my shirt disappeared, and the door closed again.

Buzz: "Pants, same drill." And so I did, and the pants quickly vanished. Shoes and socks were ignored.

There I was, standing in my boxers, still hard, getting more confused. A few moments passed. Buzz: "You are so cute." And then another text with kissing emojis, and then a third text.

Buzz: "I'm watching through the peephole. R U ready for what's next?" I texted back, "If you mean the door opens and we have fun, yeah I'm ready. LOL."

Cassie: "LOL indeed. Not what I meant. I asked, R U ready for what's next?"

This chilled me. Where was this coming from? I was lost. She was a doctoral student in literature. She liked libraries. She read poetry. But now this? What was happening? I was getting scared, I'll admit it, but I knew that I shouldn't tell her that. I replied with transparent overconfidence. "Sure. I'm ready. ALWAYS ready," I wrote.

Buzz: "Good. Pick a number 1-10." I wrote back with a "5," not knowing why. Then the door opened and she tossed something outside, and the phone buzzed. "It's a blindfold. You'll be putting it on. So here are the rest of the instructions. Follow them EXACTLY. Put blindfold on first. Then take off your boxers and toss them toward the door. Then put your hands behind your head. You'll be there for 5 minutes - that was your pick if you'll recall. After seven minutes, the door will open and you'll be lead in." She texted once more. "BTW if you lose your hard-on, the clock restarts."

OK, I started to mildly panic. I wasn't sure I could do all that.

"What if someone comes up here," I wrote.

"OMG. This isn't complicated. Then that person will see a naked man, with an erect penis, wearing a blindfold with his hands behind his head." She texted again, "That's OK with me." Another text from Cassie, "I'm waiting. And I'm not patient."

"What if I want out?"

"Then go home, no problem."

"You've got my clothes!!"

"Not all of them. I don't care anyway. Call a friend for help. Tick tock. If you're not naked AS INSTRUCTED in 20 seconds, I'll never answer this door and I'm blocking your number."

It was a terrible mixture of terror and arousal. I wanted to leave, but I also wanted to do what she said. What if I bailed out? Was Cassie bluffing about not giving back my clothes. Tick tock. I wasn't sure whether it was fear or arousal that ultimately grabbed me, but I put on the blindfold, tossed my boxers at the door, and put my hands behind my head. I heard the door quickly open and shut. This was a singular experience. I was so ashamed and freaked out, but it energized me. I stayed hard easily.

Time passed. Five minutes, I assume, but it felt like forever. Eventually the door did open, and I heard the softest of laughs. She grabbed my cock, quickly stroked it twice, and grabbed it tightly. That's how she led me inside. This was embarrassing, but I realized that at that moment, finally, I was behind closed doors with a beautiful girl grabbing my cock. It would all be worth it, I realized. She briskly led me down the hall, and then she shoved me very hard. I stumbled, but landed on a bed. Perfect.

She pushed me further onto the bed and stretched my arms up. I felt handcuffs click around my wrists. Honestly, that wasn't much of a shock. In the eternity I stood on the landing, my mind raced with these erotic possibilities. Handcuffs seemed like an obvious go-to for Cassie at this point.

After the cuffs were secured, I heard a quiet laugh close to my ear. From a clear distance, I heard Cassie's voice, "Oh, Sam. You look good, really good." Then, another female voice. "Cassie, he's really cute. This will work." And then two female voices laughed together. Every muscle in my body tensed, and I started pulling at the handcuffs. The laughter just got a little louder.

To be continued...