Today's requester didn't like that either. She seems to think that BDSM is some sort of thing that happens BETWEEN two people, and not just TO one of them. Almost like the people who are into this stuff are REAL people with desires. Like BOTH of them are real, rather than one of them being a walking talking fantasy. It's crazy, I know. But I think she's right.
"I found your bag."
Blood rushes to Lucy’s face when she
saw him sitting on the couch, her toy bag on the floor in front of him. “I can
explain,” she says, stepping forward and wishing she had something she could
actually say.
“I have to say, I was surprised.” He
nudges the bag. It’s open. He’s definitely looked inside. “I had always assumed
that you just really liked shoes. I never knew it extended this far.”
He bends down and reaches into the
bag, pulling out a heavy strip of leather with a buckle on one end, a ring in
the middle, and a chain woven through the ring. The chain leads to a pair of
cuffs that follow the collar out of the bag and onto the couch next to him. “You’ve
got collars, gags, shackles,” he roots through the bag, “a riding crop, whips,
a spreader bar, a wartenberg wheel,” he looks at her with a cunning bit of
surprise on his face. “I’d say you’re pretty well stocked.”
Lucy feels her legs getting weak,
and settles into the chair across from him before she falls down. “Look, John.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” he says.
The silence stretches out between
them.
He shakes his head. “I suspected,
you know.” He draws a riding crop out of the bag and twirls it in his fingers. “The
leather pants, the corset. Fifteen pairs of boots. I should have guessed.”
“Do you hate me?”
He smiles, laughs a little. It’s a
desperate laugh, a sad laugh. “No, honey, I don’t hate you. I’m disappointed,
but not angry.”
“Disappointed in me?”
He sighs. “In us,” he says. “Like I
said, I suspected. I even hoped. But this,” he gestures at the collar and cuffs
next to him, “this isn’t what I hoped for.”
“I don’t need this stuff,” she says.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says. Then he
sighs again. “I just worry that this changes things. That we aren’t going to
work anymore.”
“We can still work!” Her voice
cracks a little bit. “It’s just fantasy. I don’t need it. Please, John.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not.
It isn’t just a fantasy. The toys you have in here,” he gestures to the bag, “they
make it pretty clear that it’s more than a fantasy. This is something you
really like, something you really need. Something that I don’t think I can give
you.”
She takes a deep breath, about to
burst into tears, when something about the situation makes her stop. He’s not
looking at her with judgment or disgust in his face. It’s sorrow. Honest
disappointment. Not in her. In them. In himself? “What do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean I can’t dominate you,” he
says. He takes a deep breath. “I kept hoping that I could. I went through your
stuff, hoping that some of it would turn me on.” He swings the crop a little, more
awkward than a newborn deer. “Don’t get me wrong,” he says, “I love the erotica
you’ve got. But I can’t do it. I just couldn’t dominate you.”
Lucy laughs, almost sobbing. “Why
would you think I wanted you to dominate me?” she asks.
“The leather, the bondage gear,” he
sighs. “Girls always want to be the submissive.”
Lucy crosses her arms, trying to get
mad at his comment. But it doesn’t seem like he’s saying that all women are
submissive, or that they are naturally inferior, or any of the other bullshit
guys had been saying for years. It didn’t seem like he was saying that girls
want to be submissive because that’s just the way things were. There was more
there. Anger? Frustration? “I’m not submissive,” she says. “I’m dominant.”
“Really?” One word. Two syllables.
So much hope.
She smiles. “Really,” she says. “I
didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d be interested. Guys are never
submissive.”
He laughs.
Lucy shifts in her seat a little
bit. “Seriously,” she says. “Every time I used to bring it up, guys would get
freaked out. They’d insist that I was sick, and they’d break up with me. They
didn’t want me to tie them up and fuck them. They wanted to tie me up. If I got
tied up, it was kinky. If they got tied up, it was sick.”
“I know the feeling,” he says.
“You do?”
“The reason I can’t dominate you,”
he says, “is that I’ve never been dominant. I never wanted to tie up the girl.
Never wanted to make her do whatever I wanted.”
“Not interested in that stuff?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve always
loved kink,” he says. “I love the stuff you have here. I just—I assumed that
you wanted me to use it on you, like all the other girls.”
“I’m not like other girls,” she
says.
He smiles, joy and relief evident in
his eyes. “I know,” he says. “I’ve always loved that about you.”
“So you aren’t mad?”
He laughs. “I think I’m excited.”
“Why?”
“You’re dominant,” he says. The
silence stretches out. He takes a deep breath. “I’m submissive.”
She raises an eyebrow at him. “No
you’re not,” she says.
“Yes I am.”
She shakes her head. “No. You’re
vanilla. You’ve always been vanilla. I brought up spanking and bondage when we
were first dating. You looked like you were going to throw up just talking about it.”
He gives her a sheepish grin. “I
thought you wanted me to spank you,” he says.
“You weren’t even interested in
anal.”
He shrugs. “I never wanted to fuck you in the ass.”
A smile starts to itch at the sides
of Lucy’s mouth. The voice in her head tells her to be careful, to wait and
make sure she understands things right. “You thought I wanted to be tied up?”
she asks. He nods. “And it made you feel sick thinking about it?”
“I could never hurt you,” he says. “Not
even consensually.”
“But you’d let me hurt you?”
He shrugs.
“Answer the question.”
He looks away from her, rubs a hand
down his face. Takes a deep breath. “Yes,” he says. “I’d let you spank me, I’d
let you whip me, kick me, trample me, tie me up. Anything.”
“Anything?”
He shrugs. “There’s nothing in that
bag that I would say no to,” he says. “Not as long as it was you using it on
me, and not the other way around.”
She laughs. “You’ve got to be
kidding me.”
He shakes his head.
“Really?”
He shrugs. “Why do you think I’ve
never argued about the boots?”
“You like boots?”
His face flushes, and he nods.
“And being tied up?”
More nodding.
“Why did you take the collar out of
the bag?”
He shrugs.
She stares at him.
“I,” he takes a deep breath and lets
it out slowly. “I wanted to wear it,” he says.
“You know that the chain keeps your
hands up like a begging doggy.”
He nods. Lucy smiles, wondering if
maybe he’s already tried it on.
“You like that, don’t you?” another
nod. “Do you want to be my little doggy?”
“Y-yes.” His face turns even
brighter red as Lucy takes a step towards him. She drops to her knees in front
of her, kneeling in the least submissive way anyone in the history of the world
has ever knelt. There’s not a hint of deference there, not the slightest sense
of actually being on her knees. She is just lower down, forcing him to look her
in the eyes. Lucy on her knees in front of John, him somehow still in the more
submissive posture.
“Okay,” she says. “Put it on.”
His hands shaking, he reaches out
and puts on the collar, buckling it behind his neck. He slips his hands through
the cuffs, his ears so red that they look like they’re going to burst.
Lucy looks down and sees that his
blood is not all in his face. “You’re
sure?” she asks.
He nods.
She pulls the strap on one of the
shackles, tightening it around his wrist.
“Positive?”
“I’ve always wanted this,” he says.
She pulls the other shackle tight.
He smiles. She yanks the chain, and he comes off the couch, landing heavily on
his knees. She turns him around and unlocks the little padlock.
“You should have said something,”
she says, snapping the lock into place through the buckle, locking the collar
in place.
“I know.” He starts to shake, but
not in fear.
She reaches into the bag and pulls
out something he hadn’t mentioned. She lays the harness on the couch in front
of him, then starts laying out three of her larger dildos next to it. “So just
to be clear. Everything I’ve ever offered, everything I suggested that we do,
everything you said no to: you’d be fine with it, if I was doing it to you
instead of you to me?”
He swallows hard and nods.
“Including anal?”
He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”
She runs a hand over his head,
loving and gentle. Then she pushes forward, pressing his face into the couch.
She reaches around and undoes his belt, his button, and pulls down his zipper.
She starts to slide down his pants,
stopping only long enough to rummage in her bag for some lube. She puts it
right in front of him so he can stare at it as she starts buckling on the
harness.
“That’s yes Master,” she says. She
ties a strip of leather around his raging erection and ties his balls off
separate from one another, rubbing them gently and then giving each one a light
slap that makes him jump.
He groans. She squeezes, and he
whimpers.
“Say it,” she says, letting him go
and grabbing the lubricant bottle from in front of him.
“Yes master,” he says.
She looks down at him, reaches
around and puts one hand on his cock, then starts pressing in from behind.
“Good doggy,” she says.
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