Jo leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, letting the day slip from her mind. As a freelance designer working from home, she depended on little rituals to mark the beginning and the end of the workday. Jo liked her rituals. She started each day with a quick jog and an unhurried breakfast, and ended each day sipping a glass of wine in her silk robe, taking a few minutes to clear her mind.
She closed her eyes, thinking about how far she’d gone in the past year. The first months after quitting her office job had been frustrating, but Jo finally had a steady flow of gigs and plenty of free time for hobbies. She thrived on projects, on clear tasks with a beginning and an end. Whether finishing a logo for a client, doing a crossword puzzle, or learning a new knitting pattern, she liked to face a challenge, figure out what she needed to, complete it, and move on.
The late afternoon autumn light shined like a spotlight through Jo’s windows, illuminating her latest accomplishments. She’d finally perfected the layout of her apartment, and she admired the way the simple couch, low and sleek tables, and window seat traced a flawless line around the room. Drawings and calligraphy projects stood patiently along the walls, waiting to be given away to friends. Her inbox was empty, testifying to the completed design she’d just sent to another satisfied client. A new sweater lay half-finished on a work table, its stitches accumulating row by row in pleasant order. Everything was in its place, either completed or planned out to the last satisfying detail. Well, almost everything, she thought, looking at the fetish site loaded on her laptop. This conversation… this man was spoiling her perfectly structured evening. He was well-spoken, but seemed to be in no hurry to take her where she needed to go. Jo wondered if he even had a destination.
She ran a hand down the outside of her silk robe and typed.
And what would you do to me if I fought back?
I’m sure you’d want me to wrestle you down. I doubt I’ll need to resort to that.
I’m good with my hands. I’ve yet to meet a women who couldn’t be overcome with a foot rub and a bit of leather. You can struggle as much as you like after that.
She pictured it for a moment. Jo certainly wasn’t opposed to bondage, but so many of the kinksters she’d met seemed to delight in making things so complicated. All these baroque scenes of domination and display—what was the point of stretching everything out to that extent? Jo found something elegant in sex with a forceful man who didn’t rely on toys.
Her last boyfriend, Andrei, had been pretty vanilla when they started, but it had been easy to convince him to dominate her in bed, to play at taking what she knew he wanted. He’d held her down, spanked her, and grabbed her hips roughly enough to leave bruises. She’d directed the action from the bottom, which had let her always get just what she wanted. It had been pleasurable. Satisfying. Still, she’d ended it and here she was, on a fetish forum with a self-professed lifestyle dominant. Jo shrugged and ran her palm experimentally over her nipple, shivering with a stronger jolt of pleasure than she expected. She was enjoying this. For now, anyway. She typed again.
How would you bind me?
Usually I like to start with bondage mitts, but for you, I think, handcuffs or a sleeve.
It’s a bit self-indulgent. You’d be charming trying to provoke me to spank you with your hands tied behind your back.
No stringing me up and whipping me like that redhead on your page?
Eventually. It took her a long time to earn that.
Jo looked at the picture of the redhead on his profile. She had assumed the woman was a professional fetish model; she looked incredible. Her round ass curved out deliciously beneath the tight corset, her long legs straining in the ballet boots as her arms stretched above her, bound by thick iron chains. Her ass was tensed, and topped by even red stripes. A pole extended from the floor between her legs, and her hair was wild and matted. It was a well-composed shot, but upon closer inspection, the sweat on her upper back and the disheveled hair made it clear it either wasn’t staged, or was staged incredibly well. Jo could almost see her shaking.
Jo clicked to the next image, and this one was far less professional. It was a close-up of the redhead’s face, the lower half covered by a leather mask and the edge of a black posture collar outlining her jawline and making her head appear to float in space. There were fingers in the image, lightly touching her forehead as if to comfort her or brush away her matted hair. The woman’s eyes strained at the hand, heavy lidded and with a sort of arousal that bordered on awe. Her pale skin was flushed, and she seemed to be struggling against the collar to press into the hand. It was as if they were frozen in a moment, both enjoying the pleasure of her being his. The last image had been appealing, but this one made Jo gasp. She’d never been quite that helpless, or that aroused. She moved her hand under her robe and lightly stroked herself. Bondage had always been something she could take or leave, so why was she so wet?
And what could I earn in an evening?
That really depends on you.
Jo rolled her eyes, trying to picture a haughty, masculine smirk on that delicate face. She’d been talking to Alex for about a week, and had been admiring his pictures from afar for a little longer. He had wide eyes and expressive lips, and a low hairline with a slight widow’s peak. It was almost feminine except for the stubble, and something hard along the jawline. At twenty-eight, she was only a few years younger than him, but there was something about his eyes and the half smile he had in his pictures that made him seem older. The thought of going out with him, of even holding hands or kissing in public seemed slightly scandalous in a way she couldn’t quite unravel.
Jo went back and read the conversation. There was something that was bothering her—something about what he had said seemed off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. After a moment, she spotted it.
What makes you think I’d try to provoke you?
You ask a lot of questions.
Alarm bells went off, and she quickly typed a reply and pressed enter.
I can find someone else if you’re not willing to answer questions.
Alex’s reply came quickly.
Sorry, I didn’t explain myself clearly. I think you’d provoke me because you ask a lot of questions. You make very few requests, but challenge everything I say. You asked me what I’d do if you fought back. I’m sure you’ll enjoy finding out.
The alarms quieted in Jo’s mind. Still, best to make sure that he had the right idea.
I’m not looking for a relationship. Just a play partner.
Of course. I’d be very happy to get together and play.
Jo noticed her hand resting on her sex, doing nothing in particular. She felt a twinge of irritation, but made plans for coffee the next day and said goodbye, signing out of the site. She’d met infuriatingly cryptic men on the Internet before, and they were almost always far more tractable in person. They were both playing roles, after all, and it would be easier to explain what she wanted in person. Who knows—maybe she’d give him the chance to show her just what that redhead was enjoying so much.
Jo stretched out on the couch and ran her hands along her body. Her long dark hair spreading out across the cushions was the only thing sprawling and disordered in the apartment. She closed her large, hazel eyes and stroked her small, pink nipples, rubbing her shapely legs together sensually.
She remembered the first time she’d been able to get Andrei to dominate her. Andrei was masculine in an emotionally reserved and somewhat repressed way, and he’d been self-conscious about his strength around her. Getting him to hold her down hadn’t been hard, but getting him to overpower her had taken longer. It had irritated her that he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, as if he were afraid she were some delicate thing he might accidentally break.
She thought about how she’d finally gotten him to give in. They’d been making out on the couch and she’d asked him to hold her hands behind her back. He had, gently clasping her two thin wrists in one large hand and fondling her breasts with the other. She’d started to struggle and he’d let go with a questioning look. When she told him to hold them while she struggled, he’d looked confused and frustrated, and his grip had been grudging.
Jo had shocked both of them by slapping him in the face.
“Listen, gentle giant,” she said, using a name she knew grated on him, “you’re not getting anything if you don’t take it.”
“Jo… alright, give me your hands.”
She slapped him again.
“Take them, bastard.”
He reached out hesitantly, and she slapped him a third time.
He let out a growl and grabbed both her wrists, pulling them down in front of her. She had expected him to pin them behind her back but instead he had held them there, staring into her eyes with a look that made her tremble. When she had tried to press her body against his, he’d shifted his grip to her upper arm, holding her in place, paralyzing her with his stare. Then he had leaned down and bit her lower lip so hard that she’d thought it would bleed.
Jo bit down hard on her lip while she fingered herself, remembering the encounter. He hadn’t held her hands behind her back like she usually instructed him to do. For the next hour, her hands had just been one more part of a body he had claimed. He’d pinned them above her head as he lay on top of her with her legs over his shoulders. He’d held them against her sides with his knees as he fucked her face. He’d made her wrap them around his back as he took her against the wall, and made her hold them in front of herself as he spanked her ass. Looking back, she was sure he would have stopped if she had wanted him to, but at the time she felt completely at his mercy. Jo had never come so hard.
As they lay there, gasping in the aftermath, Jo had realized that it would never happen again with him. Andrei wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew that she had wanted it, but there had been something guilty in his body language as he held her, as if he had had to silently will himself not to apologize. After that day, he would spank her and screw her roughly sometimes, but it was always so safe. He’d do what she asked of him and no more.
Jo closed her eyes and put the relationship out of her mind. She hooked her middle finger inside herself, rubbing her clit gently with the other hand, and came with a little whimper. As she lay there, she thought about Alex. Could this dominant man who had made no promises other than to bind and torment her give her something that her accommodatingly brutish Andrei couldn’t?