In Katies Room Pt 01

I was in the library when I got Katie's message. I saw it just as I hit

"Save"

on my Dostoevsky essay and flipped over to Facebook for a brief mental diversion.

We both worked long hours in our off-campus jobs, and we couldn't always see each other in-between study sessions during the week. The occasional flirty message was good for us; it reminded us that we were in each other's thoughts, and it was a sweet little appetizer for our traditional rendezvous at the end of the week.

This one seemed innocent enough, though:

"Can I borrow your Economics textbook? The apartment's open. My roommate can let you in if you want to drop it off there."

Simple enough. I'd had my face buried in a Norton Anthology since 10 that morning. I could use a distraction.

I grabbed the Economics book and hopped a city bus to Katie's apartment on the East side of town. It was 5 o'clock, and the sun was coming down behind the buildings downtown.

I didn't bother to question why Katie was busy on a Friday night. She was in her third year as a Poli-Sci major, and had just managed to score her first position as a campaign assistant for a local alderman running for State Representative. These days, she spent most of her evenings manning a phone bank and subsisting on instant coffee. When we

did

get together, she always tried to make it worth my while—no matter how exhausted she was.

Katie's apartment was a charming little walk-up with potted flowers on every windowsill. It wasn't a huge place, but Katie always loved the area.

If I'm gonna get involved in politics,

she always said,

I might as well learn to love my neighborhood first. Everything starts local.

I walked up the second floor and found my way to Apartment 232. Always one for a joke, Katie had left a welcome mat on the doorstep with the words

"STAY OUT!"

written in bold red letters. I thought of her when I saw it, and I smiled to myself.

I knocked on the door three times. As soon as it opened, all thoughts of Katie temporarily evaporated.

The woman at the door had hair the color of cinnamon, which fell around her face in a waterfall of elegant ringlets, caught at the back of her head in a neat knot. She looked up at me and smiled shyly, and I stared up into eyes like cut sapphires. Her long white shirt, patterned with musical notes, tantalizingly hid the contours of her slim, girlish frame—all but her legs, in tight black leggings. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted electric blue. I caught myself staring at her feet just a moment longer than I should have, and my eyes snapped right back up to meet her face again. Amused, she raised an eyebrow.

"Hey there," she said, in a drawling New Zealand accent. "You must be the one Katie can't shut up about."

I shrugged, my face impassive.

"I guess," I said. "Not like I can keep track of all her boys on the side."

She gestured inside, and stood aside from the door.

"Come on in," she said. "I'm Sarah, by the way. Just got settled in this semester. If I like it here, maybe I'll stick around."

As I walked into the apartment, I noticed Sarah slip her index finger into her mouth to suck off an errant speck of blue frosting. A cake sat on the nearby table, frosted with that same blue frosting.

"I didn't forget Katie's birthday, did I?" I asked.

Sarah smiled.

"Not hers. Mine. A few of my mates back in Auckland mailed me a cake and some cards," she said.

"Sorry," I said. "If I'd known, me and Katie would have done something for you."

She waved me off.

"It's fine. I wasn't gonna make a big thing out of it. I figured I'd hit the bar downtown. I needed some time to myself anyway. Things have been crazy in the studio lately."

"Studio?" I asked. "You do broadcasts or something?"

She gave a bashful smile.

"Hardly. I'm a dancer. All my life. Jazz, tap, modern, ballet... You name it. That's how I wound up here. The conservatory's famous."

As she said it, I noticed a couple of framed photos on the wall behind her. One photo showed Sarah in the middle of a flawless

grand jeté

, her longs legs splayed out under her pink tutu as she sailed gracefully through the air, her cinnamon-red hair pinned above her head in a cute bun. The other was a playful candid photo that showed her bent over a ballet barre in the same tutu, leaning over just far enough to expose her white panties, which hugged her well-rounded bottom perfectly. Again, I caught myself staring just a little too long.

Hell, nothing wrong with gawking at a picture...

"Katie's room's just that way," Sarah said, pointing down the hall. "She said you might be dropping off her book. She told me to tell you to leave it on her bed. She, uh... She was pretty particular about that, actually."

I raised an eyebrow, and Sarah shrugged.

"I know, it sounded a little off to me too," Sarah said. "Whatever. Katie's funny like that sometimes. I don't always understand how her mind works."

I wanted to believe her. But the idea of waltzing into Katie's room when she wasn't there made me nervous.

Sarah must have sensed my apprehension. She gave another dismissive wave of the hand.

"It's fine, love. It's Katie's room, not King Solomon's Temple. Go right in."

It seemed so simple. Just leave the book on her bed. Nothing lascivious about that. So

why

did I feel a funny little prickle at the small of my back?

This

would

be the first time I'd be setting foot in Katie's room. We'd made love just three times since we'd started dating. But each time before, we'd done it in my apartment. This was mysterious territory for me.

I shrugged it off. Sometimes my nerves get the best of me. I learn to ignore them when I need to.

I left Sarah behind in the living room, walked down the hall, and opened the door that waited at the end.

Katie's tastes ran towards minimalism: her white walls were bare, but they contrasted nicely with the angular black furniture. She had a desk strewn with notebooks and election flyers, a bookshelf crammed with paperback novels, and single extra chair leaning against the wall.

She told me to tell you to leave it on her bed,

Sarah had said.

I looked towards the bed, and an unexpected sight immediately caught my eye.

The sheets and blanket on her bed were midnight blue. Against those dark sheets, it was impossible to miss the white slip of paper sitting on top. It was folded up neatly, and one word was written on it in bold black letters:

"DAVID".

Katie left me a surprise note? The girl liked to flirt, but I'd always assumed that she was above coy romantic games. Still, the note intrigued me. I couldn't ignore a note with my name on it, after all.

My errand forgotten, I dropped the textbook on the ground and unfolded the note. First, there was a lengthy message scrawled out in black pen. Katie had written as small as possible, as if she was desperate to cram in every word. And under her message, I could see some kind of numbered list.

This was a first. What the hell was Katie playing at?

I started reading at the top of the note:

"Hey David. Are you sitting comfortably? If not, feel free to take a seat on the bed. I don't mind. Confession time: you can keep your Economics book, if you want. I borrowed one from a friend of mine last week. Sorry about all the cloak-and-dagger shenanigans, but I didn't want to shock you too much with a message out of the blue. So from here on out, I'll be honest with you.

Listen, David... I remember that little 'confession' that you made to me, that second time I came over to your apartment. I remember what you told me about your 'tendencies.' I remember, and I've been thinking for a while about what you told me."

Taken aback, I stopped in the middle of my reading. I knew exactly what she meant.

The second time we'd gotten together at my apartment, we'd both had a few more drinks than we'd planned on. We needed to de-stress, so we were both a little more talkative than usual. Katie told me about her first high school crush, and she told me which professors she'd sleep with if she had a chance. And then

I

told her about the fantasies that I'd had since I hit puberty.

All my life, I've dreamed about being Dominated by a beautiful woman. The details about my fantasies have changed with time, but some stay the same.

Pain. Submission. Helplessness. Surrendering power. Worshipping women like Goddesses.

Even after five serious relationships, I'd still never met an openly dominant woman. I had to be careful about coming clean about my tendencies. I was a skinny kid from Boston who was studying to teach Literature; I had enough people pegging me as "weak" without admitting that I fantasized about being spanked.

"I know it's never easy to admit that you have a submissive streak. Hell, if I was like you, I don't know if I'd ever be able to admit it either. But I want you to know right now that

I don't respect you any less.

And I think it's time that I rewarded your trust in me. You've got a taste for submission? Well,

I've

got a taste for Domination. I don't usually admit that to guys until we've been serious for a while. But I think you're ready for my darker side.

I told you I'd be working late at the campaign office tonight, right? Well, that was only half-true. If I got my timing right, you should be reading this at around 5 o'clock. I'll be home in the next hour. If you can handle a night of fun with me, it'll start then."

Handle it? Hell, I thought I'd have to

ask

Katie to go that far with me. I never dreamed that she'd propose the idea herself.

"I know we've kept things pretty vanilla so far. If you'd rather not go any farther, this is your chance to back out. Just walk right out the door, and I won't think any less of you. But if you

are

interested, stay right where you are and follow my instructions."

When I read the first item on the list, my heart leaped in my chest.

"1. Take off your clothes."

Back in the living room, I could still hear Sarah's footsteps creaking on the floorboards. I'd already spent so much time in Katie's room, she must have been getting suspicious. Christ... Did she know? She and Katie were close enough, but would Katie have told her something like that? Katie

did

always get chatty after a few glasses of wine.

I shrugged off the shock and read the next item on the list. When I saw it, I wanted to groan.

"2. Seriously, take off your clothes.

Now

. Don't even bother reading on until you're done. Take off every shred of clothing. I want you bare-ass naked when I get home. If you're too modest for that, everything's off."

I tried to stand as still as I could. Hell... There was no way in hell I was stripping with Sarah outside the door. But if I didn't make a sound, maybe she'd forget I was here.

No. Bullshit. That was wishful thinking, and I knew it. But against all odds...

Close by, I heard the jingling of keys, then the sound of the door swinging open. Sarah must have been gathering up her things and leaving. She

did

mention heading out to the bar, I remembered.

A second later, I heard the front door swing shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of the door locking. I was alone, and locked inside Katie's apartment.

Well, that settled it. I didn't have a key. It wasn't like I could leave the front door unlocked. I'd

have

to wait around for Katie. Just the excuse I needed.

I took a deep breath.

A full-length mirror was bolted to the nearest wall. Against every rational impulse, I turned to the mirror to look myself over.

Stupid. I knew I'd just get more self-conscious if I looked at myself while I undressed. But in spite of it all, I felt excitement mingle with my apprehension. This was my first night of real, true domination. How long would Katie make me wait for her? Knowing her, she'd wait

just

long enough to make me squirmy.

With clumsy fingers, I moved my fingers to the top button of my flannel shirt. It was the first month of winter, and I'd long since packed away my t-shirts and dug out all of my heavy plaid shirts. Katie teased me about them sometimes; she called them my "lumberjack shirts".

Slowly, row-by-row, I unbuttoned my shirt and let it hang loose on my shoulders. Underneath my shirt, I could see the thin mat of black hair covering my chest and stomach.

Some guys hit the gym every week because they want to look good naked. I do it for stress relief, but I can still appreciate the results. I'm not a bodybuilder, but I'm firm in all the right places. I bench-press just enough to keep my pecs hard, and my upper arms have all the marks of regular weight lifting.

I slipped off my shirt, then held it up, folded it into a neat square, and bent down to lay it down at the foot of Katie's bed. Even if I was ready to get steamy with my girlfriend, I still couldn't stop being a neat freak. I wanted to make a good impression; if I left my clothes strewn all over the floor of her bedroom, Katie might just use it as an excuse to be cruel...

I bent down to unlace my black Converses, pulled them off, and laid them down next to my folded-up shirt with the socks stuffed inside. When I moved to unbuckle my belt, I felt my hands shaking even more.

With that damn mirror in front of me, my bare chest was impossible to ignore. It was double the humiliation; as if it wasn't enough to strip down in Katie's room, I had to do it with my own naked body staring right back at me.

Focus, David. Nothing to be scared of,

I thought.

It's nothing she hasn't seen before.

But I knew that was bullshit. Every time we'd made love in my apartment, we'd done it in the dark, and we'd been naked

together

. This was new: I'd be naked and vulnerable in a well-lit room, with Katie fully clothed, free to look me over at her leisure.

Man up,

I told myself.

At least you know damn well you'll be hard when she sees you...

I undid the buttons of my dark-washed jeans, slid them off of my legs with ease, and folded them up. And as I looked myself over, I gave one more deep breath.

You always wanted to submit to a woman like Katie,

I thought.

So give her what she wants.

I slid my finger into the elastic waistband of my boxers. Slowly—

very

slowly—I lowered them, exposing my cock. In the mirror, I watched my circumcised cock twitch and pulse as goosebumps spread over my bare legs and chest. The cold, hard reality of the situation hit me.

I was naked and alone in Katie's apartment, with the door locked behind me. It didn't get more vulnerable than that.

Or

did

it? What else did Katie have planned for me?

I let my boxers drop down to my ankles, plucked them up, and dropped them down on top of my neatly folded pants and shirt. This time, I didn't bother to fold them. Then I turned back to the note.

"3. Are you naked now?

Good. I know I'll get an eyeful soon. Now, go to my bedside chest and open the top drawer. You'll find four sets of shackles. They're a perfect fit for this bed. Trust me—you're not the first person I've tried them on. Take them out. You'll need two for your hands, and two for your feet."

On wobbly feet, I tiptoed my way across the bedroom to the black wooden chest of drawers by Katie's bedside table. There were just two drawers, so I pulled out the top one—and what I saw just made my cock grow harder.

Light glinted on silver chains and shone dully on polished black leather. There were leather shackles attacked to sturdy chains, a shiny red ball gag with a leather strap, a tiny ring of black latex that could only have been a cock ring, and two pairs of wicked-looking handcuffs.

Christ... How long had Katie been this well-stocked? I'd always been shy about my submissive side, but I never dreamed that Katie would be this ready to dominate me.

"You're not the first person I've tried them on,"

the note had said. Was I in over my head? Did her taste for domination outstrip my taste for submission?

But it didn't matter. If I was going to submit to Katie, I'd need to trust her. So I would.

I grabbed the four leather shackles and walked back to the note. There were just two items left.

"4. Loop the chains around the bedposts to tie them down. Then lie down in the bed, and strap yourself in. I know you'll need to leave one hand free. That's alright. I'll finish the job when I get in.

5. Wait. If you want to give your cock a little stroke, go right ahead. It's the last chance you'll get for a

long

time."

I swallowed hard. My hands were still shaking.

Hell...

I thought.

Nothing like a strong pair of shackles to keep your hands still.

I followed Katie's orders, passing the round leather straps through the metal chains and tying them tightly around each bedpost. Each set of leather cuffs came with a silver buckle, just strong enough to keep them tight. The chains seemed thin and elegant, but I knew that they were more than enough to hold me down.

This is it,

I thought, looking the bed over.

No turning back.

But I remembered the last item on Katie's list.

As gently as I could, I gripped my half-erect penis in my right hand and ran my fingers up and down the shaft, gently ticking the rim with my thumb. I felt my cock come alive in my hands.

The anticipation of it all was more erotic than even the naughtiest foreplay. I knew I'd have my eyes riveted on that goddamn door until Katie walked through it.

I planted my bare ass on the bed and rotated around. I leaned forward, grabbed both leather shackles, wrapped them around my ankles, and pulled the buckle tight. Just to test them out, I pulled my ankles as far as I could from the headboard, but found them unyielding. There was no getting out of these things until Katie freed me. But how long would that be?

Moment of truth...

I laid back and rested my head on the pillow, then reached back to clamp down the nearest set of shackles around my left wrist.

I looked up at the mirror. Katie had positioned it perfectly: I had a perfect view of my nude body as I lay back on the bed. In the mirror, I watched my cock as it began to rise again, pointing perfectly up at the ceiling fan.

Stay calm, David. You can do this

.

When I was younger, a shrink taught me to count my breaths in groups of four when I needed to calm myself down.

Don't focus on anything else,

he always said.

Just breathe deep and count your breaths

. So I did.

In the mirror, I watched my bare chest rise and fall as I breathed in. But that wasn't what caught my attention: my exposed, reddening cock was twitching in time with my heartbeats, becoming so sensitive that I couldn't ignore it.

Still, I kept up my breathing, starting my count over every time I reached four.

Don't think about the time. Just lie back and wait. It'll all be worth it.

I don't know how long I waited until I heard a key turning in the front doorknob. The sound of the door opening was as sweet as a church bell.

I heard footsteps—steady and heavy—on the floorboards in the living room, making the floor creek. It seemed like an eternity before I saw the doorknob turn. And then...

The door opened, but it wasn't Katie standing in the doorway.

Sarah stood there, a smile of sweet contentment on her face, looking down at me like a gambler with a winning hand.