It never occurred to me that I was what you’d call submissive.

I didn’t know there was a specific name for the way my fantasies ran. I’d always found myself with bossy girlfriends, women who knew what they wanted and were never afraid to tell me. I was fine following their lead, trailing them where they wanted to go. But for some reason, these dominant desires never continued into the bedroom. There, I’d be the one in charge, or we’d be equals. Somehow their attitudes got stripped away along with their clothes. That’s just how things always went — until Melanie.

With her, things were the opposite. She was docile when we went out. Whatever I wanted to do was fine with her. Bowling? Sure. To the movies? Fine. It wasn’t that she didn’t have an opinion, but that she seemed to be indulging me. I found her attitude charming, yet curious. She was so different from my normal “type.” She almost seemed old-fashioned, often slipping on a pair of pristine white gloves when we were out. The way she behaved intrigued me. I wanted to know her better.

We didn’t fuck right away. But there was kissing, and that’s when things got really strange. Instead of being equals here, or even with me taking charge of her pleasure, she was ravenous. A hellion. I found myself breathless and rock-hard after every make-out session. My lips would feel bruised. My whole body responded in a new way to her kisses. I couldn’t get enough. I thought about her mouth when we were apart, fantasized about the way her eyes looked. So blue and bright. As if they held all the secrets to my every fantasy.

Then we took things to a new level.

She invited me up to her bedroom after a night of dancing. I had been to her place before, but never to the upstairs. She seemed excited to show me her sanctuary, and I was raring to see it. But when we got to the doorway, I had to pause. This was a girl who wore dresses dotted with pansies. This was a lady who had little white gloves tucked in her scarlet handbag. What was she doing with a bed like that? There were handcuffs attached to the headboard and leather thongs on the posts at the foot of the bed. Did she keep the place like that generally? Or had she prepared something special for me?

“I like you, Dave,” she said, and then she nuzzled against me, kitten-like, as usual. “But if we’re going to take things to the next step in our relationship, I thought it would be best for me to be totally honest about what I’m into.”

“What are you into?” My voice was rough with lust and anticipation.

She indicated the bed. The bondage devices. Then she looked at me. “I’m a domme all the way. Are you game?”

I said “yes” before I realized my mouth was moving. Yes. I was game. This is what I’d always dreamed of, what I’d been waiting for: a woman who would take charge of me in the bedroom. She asked me to undress, and then she stepped aside. I took my clothes off while she watched intently. She had magically transformed from the woman I’d been dating the past few weeks into the lover of my most wicked dreams. There was nothing docile about her, nothing at all. She seemed completely powerful, totally in control. My hard-on was instantaneous. I was desperate to be her plaything.

When I was entirely naked, she walked around me slowly. I could feel her eyes on me. It was the most erotic sensation. She hadn’t touched me with her hands, only with her gaze, and yet I felt more excited than I could ever remember being in a bedroom setting. Finally, she seemed to have reached a decision, and she said, “On my bed, on your back.” I hurried to obey. She usually spoke in a low, almost melodious tone. Now, she sounded crisp and efficient. I wanted to please her.

She didn’t bind me right away. Instead, she observed me as she had while I was standing. My cock was pointing to her ceiling. My breaths were quick and erratic, as if I’d raced up the stairs. She smiled at me, and she let her fingertips trail along my chest. I shivered at her touch.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” she asked me.

“Only in my dreams,” I told her honestly.

“I’ll need a safeword.”

I knew what that was, but I’d never thought of what mine might be. I hesitated a moment, then said, “Electric.” Because that’s how I felt. As if she’d turned me on. She seemed to like that, because she nodded and then got to work fastening my wrists over my head and my ankles to the posts of her bed. She did the work quickly and efficiently, and I wondered for a second how many other lovers she had bound to her mattress.

She gave me a wry smile and then said, “You want to ask me something, don’t you?”

I swallowed hard. How had she known? She drew her fingers up and down the length of my dick.

“I could feel that tightening sensation inside me, the one that signaled my climax.”

“You thought I was this nice, sweet chick, right?”

I nodded. Her eyes hardened. I said, “Yes, Ma’am,” and a light spread over her features.

“I am,” she said. “When we go out, that’s how I’ll be. I don’t need to bark orders. I don’t have to be in charge all the time. But in the bedroom, this is what I like.” She slid on one of those white gloves of hers, and she began to majestically milk my hard-on. I was transported. I had never had anything like this happen to me before. She used the slippery wetness of my pre-come as lube, rubbing it in as she pumped my shaft.

“There are all sorts of games we can play,” she said. “But tonight, we’ll go slow. This is your first time, isn’t it?”

I started to nod, and then caught myself. “Yes, Ma’am,” I told her.

“Good boy.”

She jerked me off until I was on the cusp of coming. Then she met my eyes and said, “Don’t.”

“Don’t… ” I echoed.

“Don’t climax until I give you permission.”

I found myself in a very tense spot.

“I should have given you more information,” she said, and she resumed the handjob. I could hardly think straight. She was stroking me softly, a little too softly to get me off. But my whole body felt as if I were poised on the cliff of something major. As if I might dive into a pure turquoise pool of pleasure at any second.

“The thing is,” she continued, “if you want to be with me, I’ll expect your obedience. If you obey my commands, I will reward you. If you fail me, I’ll have to punish you.” She made a faux sad face. My balls tightened.

“How do you feel about that?” she asked. Her free hand wandered down between my thighs. Her fingertip probed my anus. I issued a sigh and a sob simultaneously.

“I expect answers to my questions,” she said, and her voice was both cool and almost bored-sounding at the same time, as if she couldn’t believe she had to explain something so simple.

“I know,” I told her. “I understand. It’s just that… ” I wasn’t sure how to put what I was feeling into words. “I want to please you,” I said, “and I don’t mind if you punish me, but the thing is, I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

“I told you what would happen.”

My mind was racing with pictures of what she might mean by her threat. How would she punish me? Was it impolite to ask her? I wanted to, desperately, so I took a risk, and I said. “Ma’am? How?”

She gave me that look of hers, calculating, piercing, and then she said, “All sorts of ways. You try me. You disobey, and then we’ll see exactly what type of sticky situation you find yourself in.”

Sticky sounded swell to me.

She was touching my backdoor with expert slowness, and I could feel that tightening sensation inside me, the one that signaled my impending climax. I knew I was going to shoot off at any moment. I would coat her gloved hand with my cream. What would she do then? She wouldn’t be able to wear the gloves on the subway. I would have defiled them. I felt a kind of happy warmth build inside me. This was dirty, so dirty, and I was beyond aroused.

She pushed a little harder with her fingertip against my asshole, and that did it. I came, bucking as high as my bonds would allow, creaming all over her glove exactly as I’d thought I would.

I wondered how she would react, my proper mistress, my beautiful domme. She stripped and climbed on top of me, facing me with her pussy against my chest, and she said, “I promised you a sticky situation, didn’t I?”

I nodded and said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Then she spun and presented me with her backdoor. “Rim me until I say stop,” she said, and then she muffled me with her sweet cheeks and I started to lap at her beautiful asshole. And as I did, I thought it’s always the shy ones who surprise you, the quiet ones who have their finger on your pulse.

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