I handed Ben the keys to every opening on my body almost as soon as I met him. I didn’t do it on purpose, but simply by running my big flapping mouth, the way I find most of the trouble I get into. Sometimes I even regret it, especially after he’d take me close to or past previously hard-kept limitations. I mean, if I was an alcoholic, I’d probably regret my first drink, right?

Let me back up a bit and explain that I have known since I was 18 or so that I liked guys who were…well, let’s call it take-charge types. It was weird because hanging out with my friends or anyone else, I was Captain Feminist, Girl Power, all that sort of thing. But when it came to sex, nothing beat being told what to do and when to do it…and if he felt the need to slap my ass for encouragement, well, all the better. By the time I met Ben I was 22, and I knew what I wanted—no, needed—from a man.

At that time, I lived in a suburb off of New York City. My normal friends would’ve been shocked to know what I did when I wasn’t with them. Because they were so straight-laced and would not possibly understand, I was sneaking off to BDSM clubs and parties in the city on my own, getting to know people and searching for my ‘One’. I hadn’t found anybody yet, but it was fun to learn about the BDSM community; what fetishes were out there and whatnot. I saw caning displays and whippings and people in cages. I was propositioned by both men and women, which was just so hot, and I also had fun dabbling in fetish-wear.

I should tell you what I look like. I guess I consider myself a cute girl with a hot body. My hair is curly and red, my eyes big and blue, my Irish skin peachy-cream and freckled in places. As for my body, my legs are loooong and slender and they make me look taller than my height of 5’4”. I absolutely love my tits; 36C, perfectly round and pretty with smallish pink nipples. My frame is actually a little too small for them, so they look even bigger on me. As for my ass, well, it could stand some more meat on it but it’s cute and round and loves to be slapped.

Anyway, back to Ben and my big mouth. I was at a club called Cuffs, which was on the large side and had its fair share of apparatuses, both moderately private and extremely public. People were restrained everywhere you looked, in various stages of undress, with incredibly naughty things happening to them. We were sitting in a quieter area, watching a girl wearing only a black lace thong get her ass whipped. (Rumor was she could cum from that alone and since I couldn’t do anything like that I was both skeptical and extremely intrigued.)

The group sitting with me was a mix of new people like me and seasoned veterans of the Scene, and everyone was sharing likes, dislikes, and experiences. I had noticed Ben right away, because of his age, he looked about 25-28 (there were not a lot of people in their twenties in this club, less that were dominant guys, and even less that were cute) but I dismissed him because he looked too young to be any kind of real dominant. Okay, that, and he had a half-naked girl on his lap who was calling him ‘Sir’, and I don’t like to share. He wasn’t adding anything to the conversation anyway, letting his chicky (who turned out to be a perfectly nice person named Samantha) do all the talking, while he stared at the whipping girl. I honestly sort of forgot about him while I talked to her and another woman named Mary.

It really is understandable. First, I had to concentrate on not staring at Samantha’s giant tits while we talked. It takes practice, learning to be casual around the casually naked, but I had been there a few times; I was learning. Second, these women had been around the Scene for a while, and they were asking me tons of questions, all about me. What had I tried? What did I like? When did it all start for me? Gee, I’m so shy, no, really, I couldn’t…

“…and that’s when my ex put me on all fours and just smacked my ass with his belt! I swear, I had no idea he was gonna do that…”

“…really like talking dirty, I mean, I thought I didn’t at first, I had to be forced into it, which maybe it’s the forcing that made it hot, ya know, he’s like ‘say it, say I want you to lick my pussy’…”

“…sure, you could call it a threesome, there were three of us, and we were naked, but it’s not like my friend and I touched each other, we just focused on him…”

It turned out I had a lot to say, and they never seemed to run out of interest. What can I say, I’m always chatty, but having the chance to talk about my secret longings and experiences with people who understood was such a release! We must’ve talked for hours, me, Mary, and nearly-naked Samantha, until it was finally time to leave. I caught a ride home with a giant Switch named Andy, who tried to stick his hand up my skirt when we got in front of my house. No, little girl, you should not take rides from strangers.

Okay. Fast-forward like six months and get ready to sing ‘It’s a Small World After All’. I was at a birthday party for a friend of a friend, really just dragged along as a last minute safety buddy in case my shy friend Geena didn’t have anyone to talk to. It turned out she knew plenty of people and I was mostly left wandering a stranger’s house sipping absently at a lite beer. I felt sexy in my short black cotton dress and silver-studded heels with my curls hanging loose down my back, though, enough to flirt with some strangers and one vaguely familiar-looking guy.

Ben told me later he had spotted me when I first arrived, recognized me right away, and then he pretty much went into psycho-stalker mode (my words, not his), planning out how to get me alone and use his knowledge to his advantage. I, in turn, was blissfully ignorant. Truth: I am just not good with faces. Realizing I didn’t recognize him, he chatted up Geena and me, somehow steering the conversation so that introductions were never made. He was flirtatious and cute enough to start us vying for his attention. It was really annoying, and being the jealous and impatient type, I wanted to shove my friend off the couch. That thought made me realize that I needed to take a walk. I excused myself, and was absurdly pleased when he followed me. I mean, he wasn’t extraordinary looking: about 6’ tall, with brown hair that looked like it would curl up if it weren’t short, and laughing green eyes. Laughing AT me, really. And he certainly wasn’t built or anything; I thought he looked pretty thin. I was thinking: hot geek. But when I punched his arm, I hurt my hand which made me suspect some lean muscle tone beneath the zeppelin t-shirt and loose dark blue jeans.

By the way, I punched him in the arm because a) he was teasing me and arm punching always works when I don’t have a good comeback and b) I really like when I try to hurt a guy and he laughs it off. It makes me feel very feminine and damsel-y. But I tried it a second time and he caught my wrist with unexpected speed…and squeezed. My eyes widened at the pain of it and I tried to yank free but he surprised me again by not letting go. I found him staring intently and his eyes were dark with…something. Not laughing now.

That was my cue to say Let go, or maybe even Let go, asshole…the words were there but I never said them. He stepped forward with purpose and I instinctively stepped back, my wrist still locked in his painful grip. Again he moved forward. My rational mind was yelling at me, what’s wrong with you?! Take your hand back! Tell him to fuck off! My pride tried its best to rise up and shame me into doing what any normal girl would do, but I just kept backing up. We’d been in the kitchen and I suddenly realized he was backing me into a small, dingy laundry room lit by one naked yellow bulb. We crossed the threshold and he released me and it was like a splash of cold water, waking me up enough to be nervous and embarrassed that I was letting a perfect stranger lead me into such a private spot.

“WAIT, wait, what do you think you’re doing, what is this??” I said it, but my voice had that kind of “outrage” girls reserve for situations they are perfectly happy to find themselves in, and that made me blush. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to look indignant anyway.

He looked at me and the door behind him still stood open. If he had closed it, I know I’d have snapped out of it for real and stalked right out. Then we’d never be where we are today. But he left it open and I was able to tell myself that it wasn’t so bad or private that I couldn’t just take a moment to find out what he wanted…

“What’s the matter, Krisssyyyy,” he stretched my name out playfully but with a hard edge and my stomach dropped from the shock of it.

I stared at him, running our conversation over in my mind, alarm rising in me now. “I never told you my—”

“You did,” he corrected, his voice as mild as any teacher with a student. “You told me your name. You told me a lot of things.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he rushed on, stepping into the room. He was moving closer but slowly, invading my space ever so cautiously, enough to make me nervous but not enough to make me run. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember my Samantha…?” He said it as if we were old classmates talking about a past mutual friend, but his voice was mocking, conjuring the memory instantly of the nice girl with big tits…sitting on some young guy’s lap.

I gasped and stared at him and he smiled wryly back. It felt like goose bumps spread over my body, followed by a rush of heat that made my whole face and chest turn red. I wanted to say something clever but what came out was, “Ohhhh, shiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

He chuckled; I was just damned amusing for this guy. “Oh, relax, so I know you’re a freak, what’s the big deal?” He slid around behind me and put his hands on my shoulders…I was tense as humanly possible and he rubbed lightly. “…really…just because I know you’ve been to Cuffs…” the rubbing was deeper, slower, his voice a little softer. “just because I know…you like guys to hurt you…” I licked my suddenly dry lips and swallowed, feeling myself clench up below in response to his words, which were mere whispers now, his lips next to my ear, “that’s no reason to be ashamed, Krissy. You need to be controlled…don’t you?” His lips and tongue touched the edge of my ear, lightly sucked.

My eyes closed, I couldn’t hold back a small gasp, but I would not say yes. His grip tightened, as if not pleased with my lack of reply and I weakened further, unable to move, unbelievably turned on. “Don’t lie, Krissy. Don’t. Lie. I know how you need it. You probably want to be taken right now. Do you want me to prove it?” His right hand slid down my shoulder…down my arm…my hip…slowly…making me want it to move to better places. “I can check. If I put my hand in your panties, what will I find? Hmm?” He kissed my neck, then, and I felt shocked again, familiarity like that from someone who had no right…but I said nothing. His hand that was still on my shoulder slipped around my front, above my chest, the hand on my hip slid around my waist, and he yanked me back roughly, forcing a choked little sound from me. Something impossibly hard was pressing against my ass, and his hold felt like steel around me. Like he was losing control, losing patience. “Come on, Krissy,” his voice was almost a growl, his restraint stretched thin. “Give up. I can already see your rock hard nipples through your slutty…little….dress…”

Excitement raced through me as I refused to answer, struggling lamely against his hold, wondering what he would do about it…I barely dared to breathe, feeling that violent potential all around me. My eyes flicked to the washer and dryer…so convenient, really, to shove me down, yank up my dress and—

He stepped away from me and my whole back and ass felt cold from the lack of his body, my neck still feeling wet from his mouth. Disappointment coursed through me and I started to turn, some of the tension releasing.

“I think you should shut the door and then come to me.” I looked at him in surprise and he continued, sounding completely reasonable now. “I think it would be…really great if you did that. But it’s totally up to you. If we’re staying here, you should shut that door, or else we need to be getting back.”

He smiled at me and once I got past the ‘what the fuck?!’ part, I think I might’ve been pouting somewhat. Inwardly I was thoroughly put out that he was putting it all on me. What kind of dominant didn’t just take what he wanted?? Now I had to make some kind of choice. Obviously, any girl with sense (who wasn’t a total slut) would leave. He was only going to use me. Was I really going to have casual sex with some stranger in a stranger’s house, with so many people not far away? I imagined Geena wouldn’t approve, for one.

But that just was not as big a factor as I wanted it to be. I was more turned on by our little ‘encounter’ thus far than you can imagine. He was a fantasy come to life. This in mind, I walked to the door reluctantly, trying my hardest to talk myself out of wanting this. I shut it with little hesitation even so…and depressed the small button lock on the knob. I gave myself a moment of self-flagellation; oh, how could I show him I wanted this, it was humiliating…

I turned to look at him and he hadn’t moved. And just that suddenly it was clear to me what he had done. What I had done.

I’d submitted to him. Already.

He knew the moment I shut the door that permission was granted. I was his now. I’d made the choice and handed myself over to his mercy.

I was walking to him before my mind could finish processing it. I got within arms reach when he grabbed me, yanking me to him. I lost my balance and stumbled into him, but he swallowed my startled cry into his mouth with one crushing, breath-stealing, triumphant kiss.

Ben’s kisses. They need their own explanation. I have never felt someone claim ownership with just their mouth on mine. His kisses were HARD, his hand snarled into my red curls and pulling my head back, forcing me to offer my mouth up, his lips pressing and moving in a way that I just had to open mine, his tongue in my mouth with no hesitation, aggressive on my tongue before sucking it into his mouth, as if he could even make me kiss him the way he wanted. This was not romance, more like a Master kissing his slave, if she had lost herself to him on a bet. He had won and he was lording it over me.

I moaned into his mouth and tried to press myself to his hard dick. I wanted to move it along, I wanted his hands on me, his cock in me, I wanted him to spank me and use me and take what he wanted. Obligingly, his hands found their way up to my tits, squeezing and stroking over the thin cotton of the dress and the lace bra beneath. It would have been easy for him to slide his hands down the stretchy neckline, pull my tits out for his reach. Hell, I would’ve done it myself, and I started to, which was when he located my nipples and twisted them. He did it so hard that I suddenly found myself gasping and squirming. It hurt too much to stay still but I fought the impulse, the need to push his hands away. I whimpered and stared up at him as he added a hard pinch to the twist.

“Did you want to show me your tits, Krissy?” He twisted hard the other way and I moaned, writhing. “Yeeesss, Bennn, pleeeeeease…”

“That’s a good girl” he told me, letting my nipples go and then rubbing them with his palms which felt unbelievable. “You have such big, beautiful tits don’t you? But if I take them out” his eyes were glued to my body and he was squeezing, fondling, rubbing as he spoke, taking his time, as if he could do it forever, “If I see your tits right now, I’ll fucking rape you right here.” I felt my pussy clench as he spoke and it’s a wonder I didn’t puddle on the floor by then. “I love to fuck girls with big, perfect tits like yours. So I would have to fuck your tits. I would fuck your mouth and choke you on my cock.” I moaned and his eyes flashed, “And then I’d fuck your sopping wet cunt until you screamed. Understand me, Krissy, no matter what a horny little slut you are, I could make it rape. You will want me to stop and I won’t. Everyone will hear you scream while I fucking destroy you, and then you can explain to them that, yes, you did let me. Do you want that?”

I reminded myself to breathe…I listened to his words and felt the size of his cock through his jeans. I’d already felt the strength in his arms, knew he could do what he said…but I wasn’t so irrational that I’d forgotten the crowd of nice, normal people inside the house. I was taking too long to answer, I guess, and green eyes flicked up to meet mine as his merciless fingers started their twisting again. “No, no,” I answered quickly to make him stop, and my voice was so hoarse and small, so meek and sexy I could barely recognize it as my own.

He sighed then, his hands reached around to my ass, still over the dress, and he pressed me so tightly against him that I thought his cock would bruise me. His hands squeezed my ass hard and my heart pounded while I waited for him to decide what happened next. Voices in the kitchen made the decision for him and we jumped apart guiltily; I SO didn’t want to be caught in there with him. I moved to the door to listen, and also to get away from him and calm my slutty ass down. I needed to think straight. And not be caught. Listening by the door served this dual purpose.

It sounded to me like a small group, 3 or 4 voices, mixing some drinks and thankfully not concerned with the laundry room. They were just getting into a discussion about whether to measure the vodka or just dump it in when Ben’s hand closed over my mouth and he pressed me gently but firmly against the door. Startled and totally certain that whatever he had in mind was a bad idea, I struggled as quietly as I could. He held me tightly and then his whisper stopped all movement from me. “Finger yourself.”

It wasn’t a suggestion and I was obeying before I could think about it. I slid my hand up my dress and then into my panties, noting they were already soaked with sweat and other liquids. Now that I wasn’t struggling, Ben’s free hand made its way back to my tits, playing with them again in a way that made me moan into his hand. He whispered instructions to me while party guests still chatted in the next room, a few feet away on the other side of the locked door.

“Slide one finger in…that’s it, rub yourself where you want my cock to be…add another finger…fuck that pussy for me…yeah, good girl…” I moaned softly; that phrase is kryptonite to me, among others that I bet he was pretty familiar with. “Now stop. Take your hand away.”

I thought that was a crappy idea and tried to give him a dirty look over my shoulder and got another wicked nipple twisting for my efforts. I gasped and his whisper was chastising. “I did say now.”

I pulled my hand out from my panties reluctantly, dragging it over my needy clit in the process. When my hand was free, he wanted to see my two glistening fingers. He uncovered my mouth and said “Open.” I obliged and he pushed my own fingers into my mouth…watched intently as I sucked them clean, half turned toward him so he could see me do it. A voice in the next room suddenly laughed so loud, so close, that I jumped and turned fully towards Ben, looking at him with pure panic.

He looked at the fear in my eyes and I saw how much he liked it. He mouthed the words “Finger Your Clit.” I needed no translation, nor was he impressed with the worry and dismay he must’ve seen on my face. Resigned, I slipped my hand back in my panties and began to lightly play with my clit, slipping the tip of my spit-wet finger around and around that hard little nub…I started breathing hard, my brow furrowed in concentration, leaning my weight on the door…no moaning, no noise, my eyes were shut. This madness with Ben had been going on for a while now and I’d been so very] turned on the entire time. I masturbated enough to know it wasn’t going to take much and it was going to be big. I felt it coming, building, any second now, oh, it already felt sooo good. Ben’s hand made its way back to my mouth, and I bit him, not meaning to but just so close and tense and tightly wound that I just had to do something or scream. He pushed his body against me and his other hand snaked up in my hair, tightened enough that I opened pleading blue eyes and looked at him. His face was so close to mine and I stared, panting, ready. “Cum for me, little girl.”

I let those words, softly spoken as they were, ring over and over in my head, and it was enough…my moan was low, trembling, and long, muffled perfectly by his restraining palm…I felt my pussy contract over and over, this final release made the muscles in my legs give way and only Ben’s body against me and the door behind me kept me from sliding to the ground as I gave in to pleasure ordinary sex could never, ever give me. I rode the aftershocks in complete and utter satisfaction with one deep breath outward…I looked at him with vision that seemed still fuzzy at the edges as I slowly caught my breath. Coming back to myself, I reached for his impossibly hard cock and looked a question at him and he laughed, pushing me away. “That’s not for you today.” If my brain wasn’t still on temporary vacation, I would’ve been pissed and asked bitchy questions, instead of accepting it quietly. But Ben had put me in a completely submissive headspace and it would be a struggle for me to get out.

That was the start of a lesson we both learned: Normal Krissy was a demanding, righteous bitch. Submissive Krissy underneath would put up with a LOT. Believe me, Ben made note of it.

I was too out of it to realize the kitchen had cleared out but I followed Ben like a trusting pet when he took my hand and led me there. The brightly lit and incredibly ordinary room had me feeling more grounded and I took some cleansing breaths to help it along. I yanked my hand back from his and straightened my dress unnecessarily. Unperturbed, he dug a cell phone from his pocket and held it out to me. I squelched the part of me that wanted to automatically give him whatever he asked and rolled my eyes at him.

“Oh, come on, we can hang out some time. I have to leave, I’ve got, uh…something to do.” His smile was charming and my answering one was wry.

“Good thing your jeans aren’t tight or everyone here would know exactly what you need to do. I guess Samantha’s getting a call tonight.” I thought I was so bold, stating it outright like he would be shocked and try to hide it, a normal guy reaction to a normally difficult situation. But his smile turned mischievous because of course he didn’t give a fuck.

“Samantha’s an excellent choice to finish what you started. Jealous? You could join in…”

“EW, no thanks, have fun!” I shoved him, part playfully and part forcefully away from me. Of course I was jealous, and ordinary enough to realize this sharing thing was bullshit. But he was the most intriguing guy I’d laid eyes on, and he had me at ‘What’s the matter, Krissy’. (It would have been Hello, if I’d known who he was and what he wanted…you understand.) He laughed and held the phone toward me again.

“Come on, give me your number, freak. That’s how I’m going to put your name in: Freak.”

“Then how will you differentiate me from the other freaks you see?” I said snidely and he laughed, his eyes appreciative.

“Differentiate, I’m impressed, a freak with a brain! Are you a nerdy freak? We could play schoolgirl…”

“Let me guess, you’ll be the big dumb school bully,” I snatched the phone away and put my number in as if I was making a huge and annoying sacrifice. “There. Go away. I hope all the girls you know are busy tonight and you have to help yourself. I’m sure you have lotion and tissues.” My voice was oh-so-sweet and I actually batted my lashes at him.

His eyes scanned me wickedly. “I already know one girl who’s free, so you better hope I find another. You’re not ready for what I want to do to you.” My mouth fell open with no words coming out, long enough to make him laugh.

Others meandered into the kitchen then and there would not be any more alone time for us that night. I never got to question him further about that last comment. But I was very glad, when he left, that he had my number.

I just had to see him again.

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