Forty-Eight

I had met others online before, but most were uninteresting and unattractive, so I had tried not to get my hopes up for my first meeting with D. That proved difficult because his banter was so engaging. When he told me he'd been a Dom with previous partners, I admitted enjoying some rough play and was interested in delving into that more. D suggested we meet in a sex shop as a fun little introduction. I was worried I would feel pressure in such a scenario and said as much. What if we don't like each other? I posed. Then we go our separate ways, no questions asked. I need to get something at the store anyway. D made it sound so simple. 

We'd agreed to introduce ourselves in the parking lot. D stepped out of his car in dark dress pants, a royal blue dress shirt, and the most luscious black skin I'd ever seen. I could hardly breathe as he strode toward me. We shook hands as though this was the most common of meetings. He was powerful; anyone could see that, but a command in his eyes and voice alluded to a much deeper strength.

Inside the sex shop, D whispered, I have an idea. He approached an employee who led us to the remote control vibrators section. Would I be willing to wear one? In public?

I park the car in front of his house and pull out the flask tucked in my purse. One shot won't do anything, but I need the placebo effect. I glance at the clock: 10:58. Shit. I exit the car and triple-check the address, then open the front door and step inside. I can see the light from the TV in the living room, but the volume is low, and I can't hear anything else. I set down my purse and quietly take off my clothes. I decided against underwear, but I have the lacy bra on and something he wouldn't expect: knee-high socks. I smile, then remember my mission. 

Am I really prepared for this? Playing rough with a boyfriend a few times is hardly the same as toying with domination. What am I looking for? Do I want to be hurt? Is it pain I want to experience or something more cerebral? What if he is too intense for me? What if I am a disappointment? I take a deep breath, lower myself to all fours, then crawl up the stairs.

D told me stories of past partners and scenarios. The seriousness with which he commanded himself and his lovers intimidated me. It wasn't a game, it was a role. Not a character he played but a responsibility he chose to accept. I was drawn to his confidence, honesty, experience, and knowledge. His respect for me. How was it possible that this person, practically a stranger asking permission to cause me physical harm, seemed to respect me more than anyone I'd ever met? I'd had men try to seduce me and offer to do crazy things for me, and yet this one, calmly asking about my pain tolerance and interest in being spanked, made me feel like a queen. Being asked to crawl across the floor to him felt like a privilege. 

Yes. 

Yes, Sir.

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