Authors note: This is the first serious bit of fiction writing I have ever done, and as such I am desperately hungry for feedback. You can contact me at [email protected]. Please, tell me what you think. The characters, especially John, have been inspired by personal events, but as I am not so lucky as him please let me know about problems with the authenticity of the bondage, or just tell me your ideas about where I should take the story next.
John stalked around the pale form in front of him, taking in the full view of her. He walked slowly, taking his time, though she had waited long enough already. He heard the clink of metal, and his eyes dropped down to small feet encased in black ballet boots, locked with small silver padlocks to a wooden spreader bar. His eyes trailed upwards, following her pale, shapely legs wrapped in black fishnets to her bare ass pointed proudly up at him. Her upper body bent forward, forced into a severe strapado by a black leather monoglove pulling her arms upward by a chain attached to the ceiling.
“Hello, slave.” He said softly. With another clink, she shook in her bonds as her sensory deprivation finally ended, a small mew emanating from out from behind a rubber ball gag as her firm breasts heaved below her. He walked around her, a single finger trailing from her ass and traveling along her side. The tip of his finger was barely grazing her skin, but she twitched and shook as he traced a meandering line down her side. He reached down and tugged lightly at the chain connecting her breasts and pulling at the rings through her nipples. This time her moan was tinged with pain. Reaching down he pulled the silken blindfold from her eyes, and her green eyes blinked before focusing pleadingly on his face.
“I know you have been waiting patiently, but now the time has come.” He ran his fingers through her raven hair. Her freckled face shined in the low light of the room, and electricity ran through his body at the sight. He had to only wait a little while longer, and she would be his.
With trembling fingers, he drew the slick rubber ball from her full, crimson lips. He brought his lips to hers, and stars erupted in his head as they kissed deeply.
She reluctantly pulled her lips away, and she blushed as her eyes dropped to the floor. “Please, master, I cannot wait anymore.”
“I know, my love. Just trust me.” He walked around to her side, and looped a red, silken rope around her waist, knotting it and tossing the other end around a ring on the ceiling. John heaved, and she felt her hips slowly rise, straightening her legs. John continued pulling until her legs were forced into a rigid en-pointe. She gasped, keenly aware of how her pussy stood exposed before him, and her juices began to flow as the moment she was waiting for approached. No matter how much her pussy ached, she was helpless to do anything. John looked on as she shook in her bonds, her freedom at every point blocked by supple leather and sterling silver. His cock stood ready, but he had only wait a little longer.
“Now, slave, have you decided? Will you be mine?”
She breathed deep, her breath shuddering. The time had finally come. “Yes, master. Make me yours.”
With a careful reverence, John walked to the edge of the room, where on a small table lay a black case. His fingers fumbled on the clasps as he opened it, revealing a silver collar adorned with only a small ring. He lifted it from the cushion and it fell open in his hands.
“As you wish.” He grabbed her hair, and roughly pulled back her head to reveal her slim neck. The silver collar fit perfectly around her neck, and as lock clicked there she gasped. Though the metal was cold, it burned around her throat. A wave of heat washed through her as the permanence of her decision dawned on her. There was no key to this collar. It was permanent.
“You are now my slave. I will take care of you, keep you safe, and in return you will give yourself to me. All of you.”
“Ye… yes master.” she gasped. Her eyes grew distant as she fell into a trance. She did not need to worry about anything anymore. Master would take care of her. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations racing across her body.
“Now… for your reward.” He gripped the sides of her ass, bringing his cock tip to graze her burning lips. His slave gasped as he plunged within her.
* * *
John bolted awake in his bed, sweat pouring down his body. His eyes blinked open, and his spirit fell as he saw only his tiny dorm room bathed in the morning light.
This was the fifth time John had had that dream, and each time he had awakened at the worst moment possible. The dream girl haunted his mind everyday. While he worked through his biology lab, the smell of her hair wafted through his mind. While he typed articles for the school paper, he could taste her on his lips. It was absolute torture.
Even worse was his growing passion for bondage. Ponygirls, ballgags, pillories and butt-plugs danced through his head every night, always tied to the dream girl. It was his great passion, but also his darkest secret. He ate up the stories he found online, and his favorites were of strong men bending women to their will and making them their willing and obedient slave. It made him faint to think about having a beautiful girl who trusted and loved him, bound in front of him and unable to avoid his ministration. He wanted to be able to just reach out and play with those exposed nipples, watching them engorge with hot blood before trapping them in the steel embrace of a clamp. He dreamed of leading her by a slender chain attached to her tender nether lips…
John cursed under his breath. He was tired of wallowing in self-pity. He was a 22 year-old male, he should be putting himself out there, though that was easier said than done. The last three girls he had gone out with had all been disasters. The first two had been hyperactive balls of stress, driving him up a wall before finally ditching him within week, and the third had been great until he had worked up the courage to ask her to let him tie her up during sex. He had no idea what he was thinking. He had been a little drunk from the party they had gone to, and what should have been some innocent sexy-time had turned into a tearful confrontation. After calling him a freak and storming out, she had told her friends about it, effectively drying up the dating pool for a year. Not that it mattered. The experience had destroyed his courage for dating since.
Fuck it, he thought. He would get nowhere if he didn’t at least try. He doubted anyone would match up to his dream girl, and even if they did, he might as well be the dirt beneath their feet. He was not bad looking, and kayaking and hiking had kept him slim and fit, but he had never been confident, and he was frankly a bit needy.
After hurrying through his day, John walked down the road towards the nicest bar in town with low spirits. It was likely going to be a busy night, as the quarter had finally ended and everybody was celebrating. Another rejection seemed inevitable, and even if he found someone interested, chances are it would be vanilla. John sighed. It was not all about the sex. Not really. He had spent so much time researching and thinking about BDSM, it had become part of him. To have someone to accept him, someone to trust who would not judge him, to take care of him…
Or I could just get drunk, he thought. That was a solid plan, too.
Too many drinks later, John was slumped over the bar, wondering about how hoofboots are reinforced in between bouts of self-pity. Several young women had tried catching his eye, but that had only made him sink lower. He grabbed a napkin and began doodling absentmindedly.
“Hey there, artist,” said a low voice.
“Who?” He lifted his head up from the bar, and his heart stopped.
“What are you drawing there?” she said. Deep, piercing green eyes found his, before darting down to his napkin. “Wow, either you ride horses or you have an interesting night-life.”
Gears ground in John’s head before he suddenly remembered what he had been drawing. He hastily crumpled up his half finished drawing of a bit-gag.
“Uhm… um sorry.”
“For what?” she asked. Her freckled face broke into a broad smile, and his gut dropped a mile through the floor.
Blood rushed to his face, and his head began to spin. “I, uh, have to go.” He stepped off the bar stool and immediately stumbled over his unstable feet.
“Hold on there,” she said. Her hands, delicate but strong, gripped his arm. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Take care… of me.” His world turned to black.
* * *
John always hated hangovers, but this was different. He felt different. He felt soft blankets beneath him. He opened his eyes, but there was no morning light. He moved to wipe his eyes, but something held his wrist. His head was so cloudy; he had no idea what was going on.
“Hello, handsome.” A voice whispered, hot breath tickling his neck.
“Mrgmhmph?” He tried to speak, but something bitter tasting jammed his mouth open and smashed his tongue down into the bottom of his mouth. Now he was panicking. He thrashed his limbs, but he was held fast by his ankles and wrists.
“It's okay. You are safe and sound in your room. Your super let me in. He thinks you drink too much.”
He moaned again, but a finger on his lips silenced him. The slender tip moved down his neck, trailing down his neck to his chest. Goosebumps shot up all over his skin, and he trembled at the feather-light touch. Another hand stroked his head, and then pulled off the material blocking his sight. He blinked, then his eyes focused on his unknown tormentor.
Next to him on a huge bed laid the dream girl made flesh, lying on her stomach gazing at him, a blindfold in one hand and the other tracing circles on his exposed chest. Her feet, bare except for black fishnets, bounced up in down like a schoolgirl as she grinned wickedly at her bound prey.
“You looked like you would be out for a while so I took the liberty of surfing your computer. You should really learn to delete your browser history, you know, as well as hide your little toys better. It’s a shame to leave such nice bonds unused.”
While she talked, John watched her free hand continue trailing down his chest before finally gripping his rapidly swelling cock and igniting a supernova of lust in his loins. His head swam with pleasure. It felt so good…
“Luckily for you, we have some common interests. Unluckily for you, I am no sub.” She grinned at him; her eyes shining wickedly as her hand continued to absentmindedly manipulate his cock. Fear rippled through his stomach, along with a surprising tint of excitement.
He pulled again at his bonds. What was he thinking? This was not right. He was a man. How could he let someone half his size control him?
With an amused twitch of her lips, she grabbed his chin and jerked his gaze back to her face, forcing him to look deep into her eyes. They flashed a bright green, and in the emerald pools he saw a threat not voiced, a command left unsaid. His mind went blank and he slumped down into his sheets. She flashed him a smile full of joy and gratitude, and warm pleasure spread through his body for pleasing her. 'Oh', he thought. 'That’s how'.
“That’s much better,” she purred. Her free hand continued her careful ministrations, but his eyes stayed locked on her radiant face.
“The thing is, when I look at you, I do not see a dom. I see a slave still confused about who he really is.” He couldn’t tell if the sublime pleasure racing through his body was because of her hand stroking the head of his penis or because of the thought of being at the complete mercy of the beautiful woman before him.
“Here’s the deal. You come home with me for a week as my personal slave, and I show you what you have been missing all your life. You refuse, and I untie you, leave right now and you never see me again.” She played with a strap on the side of his face, and pulled the bit-gag, for that’s what it was, from his speechless mouth. “Will you be mine?”
John was speechless. Here she was, literally the girl of his dreams, but it was all wrong. He had always thought he was a dom, that this situation would be different. He had done all the research to prepare himself, but now that he was here, he felt his security slipping away. He couldn’t move an inch. Thick leather bound his hands and feet, and now he was entirely in the hands of this stranger, who could control him with a single finger on his cock.
He must have hesitated a bit too long, because she leaned forward close to him, her raven tresses falling over his chest. “I understand if you are having trouble deciding.” She whispered into his ear. “If you do say yes, know that you won’t need to worry about a thing. I will take care of you, and of anything you need. Nobody will see you. Nobody will judge you. You will be all mine.” Her lips burned on his neck, and he sighed. He arched his back, electrified by each sensual kiss. She sat up and straddled his chest, and his eyes were compelled to follow until he gazed up at her. She was so utterly delicate, yet so powerful. He had never seen a more beautiful sight.
“I will push you farther than you have ever thought possible. I can make you feel things. All you have to do is say yes. Say ‘yes, Mistress’ and you will be mine.” She leaned down till her face was inches from his, so close he could count the freckles on her delicate nose. She gazed deep into his eyes with heavy lidded eyes; full lips parted and breathed hot, perfumed air down onto him. He closed his eyes as his head swam, and his dream from the night before slowly faded from his mind. A weakening part of him screamed in his head: what would happen to school, his job? How could he even be considering this? He breathed in, gathering the strength to refuse, but as he opened his eyes he was stopped.
It was her eyes. For that brief moment, her facade broke, and the sad eyes that looked at him were the same ones that stared back at him in the mirror every morning. In them he saw fear, worry and lust. In them he saw answers to the questions that haunted him. This was his chance. He knew he could not go back to his shitty life. He had to piece together this part of him, to understand. He had to know why he felt this way, why this appealed to him so much. He had to know.
“Yes, Mistress.” He breathed.
A smile lit up her face, making her look like a schoolgirl who just received a valentine. She giggled and stroked his face, and his eyes went dull with bliss. Everything would be all right.
“You will not regret it. Now, I need to pack up for the trip to my house.” She jammed the bit back into his mouth before again placing him back into darkness with the blindfold. “There we can begin.”
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story continues in Dream Girl Part 2: Day 2