“Hold onto my arm, Kelli. Walk beside me, holding my arm. Always walk on my left side, and always hold my arm, understand?” he said as he looked over his shoulder at me.
I walked to his left side, and wrapped my right arm through his extended arm. As we walked side by side toward the restaurant, I felt warmth, a certain comfort that I have never felt. I felt like he had me here, positioned beside him, to protect me. To make sure that I was comfortable with him, and that I knew he was not only in charge, but that he wanted everyone to know it. I was falling for this guy and I was falling fast.
He had told me not quite twelve hours ago that he was going to own me. He may or may not know it, but he already did. He could tell me to do anything, right now, and I would do it. All of those questions that he asked me in that long email; I would do every one of them, right now. This guy had a certain presence about him, a certain power. He didn’t express it, he wasn’t pushy or arrogant, but I would do whatever he wanted.
Pleasing him would make me so happy. As we walked toward the restaurant, I began to wonder if I
could
actually please him. What if I couldn’t? What if, I tried as hard as I could, and he laughed at me? What if he told me I wasn’t even good enough to be his fuck-buddy? The thought of that began to make me feel ridiculously uncomfortable. As I stumbled over a hole in the parking lot, I realized that we were at the entrance of the restaurant.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yes, I didn’t see the hole in the lot, sorry,” I smiled as I responded. Walking through the entrance, I smelled him again. The smell made my mouth water. The smell made me want to please him.
“You’ve been here before?” he asked me, nodding toward the menu.
“Yes, several times.”
“Well, Kelli, do you know what you want?”
Looking over the menu, I decided to get the Cobb salad. It was a great salad.
“Yes, I do,” I responded.
The restaurant was a fairly nice Italian restaurant; but the format for it was unique. There was a menu at the entrance, and a cashier at a bar. You ordered at the cashier, and went to your table, and they delivered your food when it was ready. After the initial ordering of the food, it was like any other restaurant, in that it had waiters and waitresses. We stepped to the cashier to order our food.
“Go ahead, Kelli,” Erik said as we stepped to the bar.
“No, you go ahead, I am thinking,” I had no idea why I said that, but I did.
“I will have the Cobb salad,” Erik said, “and a glass of tea.”
Shit. Now, if I ordered the salad, it would look like I was copying Erik. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t an individual, especially after all of the questions that he had asked me. Damn it, I really wanted that salad. I stood and thought, and tried to decide what to do.
“Kelli?” he said as he turned and looked at me.
“Uhhm. I will, uhmmm, have the lasagna,” I said, not even thinking. Surely they sold lasagna; it was an Italian restaurant, after all.
“And a glass of water,” I added.
Erik paid for the food, and we walked to the outside seating area. Watching him walk was hypnotic. He had a very mechanical walk, as if he were programmed to do it. He stood very erect, and moved his arms a little bit, but not too much. He looked straight ahead, but his eyes were attentive to all of the things around him. I enjoyed watching him walk. I daydreamed about watching him walk the length of the parking lot.
The area was a patio outside, that was surrounded by a stone fence, and trees, open to the outside and sky. A sidewalk separated the seating are from the parking lot. As we picked out table and I began to sit, he pulled my chair out from the table for me.
“Thank you,” I said. He nodded at me and sat down. As he sat down, he placed the receipt for the food at the center of the table. I noticed that he had folded it into a neat square.
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked. I felt stupid again, immediately after I asked the question. I felt it was kind of sophomoric of me.
“Your choice, Kelli,”
I thought about what we could discuss. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to eat and fuck. I didn’t even want to eat, I just wanted to fuck. I wanted to show Erik what I was able to do, sexually, and hopefully blow his mind. Making him happy and pleasing him more than he had ever been pleased was at the forefront of my list of things to accomplish today. I decided there was a subject we could talk about, if he would. I decided to try again.
“What about that long text you sent me, the one with all of the sexual questions? What was all of that about? More psycho-babble stuff?
“Well, let me ask you this, first, Kelli. How did reading the questions make you feel, as a whole?” he responded.
I thought about how to respond. I didn’t want him to think I was some weirdo, but I did want him to know I was a sexual freak. I decided to be totally honest, and let him know what I thought, and how they made me feel, and have him decide what was wrong with me.
“Every one of them turned me on. They made me think, and they made me horny. I answered ‘turn on’ to all of them, mentally. And, the more I thought about them, the more I wanted you to be with me, so we could be doing all of those things,” I answered as I crossed my legs.
I thought about it after I had responded, and realized that he didn’t say that he wanted to do those things, he was just trying to decide what type of person I was, probably sexually. I really needed to start thinking before I spoke.
“That is interesting, Kelli. Every one?” he asked, removing his hand from holding his chin, gesturing toward me with his open palm.
“Yes…every one of them, Erik. I do not know how you selected those questions, or what they may mean to you, but each one of them not only sounded exciting, but they also made me very comfortable with what you might want me to do. Are all of them a turn on or a turn off for you?”
I decided to try to use his name more when I spoke to him, he did it to me all the time, completing sentences with my name, or preceding a thought or a sentence with my name. I liked it. I liked it a lot. So, maybe if I did it to him, he would like it as much as I did. I crossed my legs the other direction as I waited for his answer.
“They’re all a turn on for me, Kelli, especially if they’re a turn on for you. Contrary to what you or anyone for that matter thinks about Dominant males, I am probably different than that common stereotype. I want, ultimately, to please you. Making you happy makes me happy,” he paused, took a breath and started speaking again.
“The thought of disappointing you makes me uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable.
Additionally, the thought of making you uncomfortable sexually, or in any way, for that matter, makes me feel terrible. The one advantage I have over many men is this, I have a great understanding of human nature; I know, for the most part, what it is that you want, need, and desire. Maybe more so than you do,” the waiter walked up, and Erik stopped speaking.
“Water, tea?” the waiter asked. I raised my hand and mouthed the word
water
to the waiter.
As the waiter walked away, I started talking, “So, pleasing me makes you happy? You want to….” In mid-sentence Erik interrupted me.
“Kelli, stop. Stop speaking. Lean over here. Come here, Kelli,” he said as he leaned to the middle of the table.
I leaned forward, wondering what I had done wrong. I hoped that I did not make him mad, that I did not disappoint him, or make him uneasy with my answers or my questions. When I got to the middle of the table, he moved my hair to the side, and spoke into my ear. As he did his breath went into my ear, and made me shiver. When he did this, it made me feel weak, and instantly made me want him…
“Who, Kelli, owns you? Right now, right here, who owns you?” he asked.
I felt a lump in my throat as I started to answer. I opened my mouth to answer, but the words came out as a whisper and a squeak.
“You….you do. You do, sir,” the words were barely audible.
“Kelli, who owns you?”
As he asked again, he took the finger from his free hand, and started sliding it back and forth across my right nipple. I felt as if I was being shocked. Oh my God, what was he doing to me? Whatever it was I loved it. I felt like I was going to vomit I was so excited. This was a degree of feelings that I had never felt before. He had me more excited by whispering these things in my ear than I had ever been actually being with a guy. He made me feel better sexually, by whispering things to me…
these things
, than any other man made me feel by actually touching my flesh.
“You do, Erik. I am yours. You own me,” I leaned my head to one side, and looked up into his steel blue eyes as I answered.
I no more than made eye contact, and he slid his hand from beside my face, and holding my hair, to the base of my neck. Cradling my neck in his hand, he squeezed my neck in his hand, and turned my head back to where it was. Continuing to hold my neck in his hand, he began to talk again, whispering into my ear lightly.
“That’s a good girl. Yes, I do. I own you. You’re making me proud of you with your answers, Kelli,” he responded. His mouth was almost to touch my ear. His warm breath against my ear and neck made me shiver again. Although it was 80 degrees out, I could feel goose bumps rise on my arms and legs.
“Now, Kelli, what are you going to do when I ask you to do something? Something sexual? What are you going to do?” he asked.
Each time he spoke, his hand tightened on my neck slightly. When he was done speaking, he would release my neck from his grasp and cradle it in his hand.
“Do it, without hesitation. Do it.” I said. The words came out of my mouth immediately. They actually came off of my tongue before I even thought about it. He was amazing at getting into my mind. I crossed my legs the other direction again. As I did, I could feel myself running down my leg, and down the crack of my ass.
I was so wet that it was running down my legs
. I re-crossed my legs, and as I did, I actually
heard
the wetness. I hoped that he didn’t hear it. This was embarrassing. I felt as if I was putty in his hands as his grip loosened from my neck.
“Continue,” he said, and leaned back into his chair.
I didn’t want this to end. This was better than sex. Oh. My. God.
No, come back; squeeze my neck, whisper in my ear.
How could he do that? How could he, in the middle of this, just stop and lean back into his chair? This was more than I could take. Naturally, I crossed my legs again, trying to become comfortable. I heard the squishing sound of my wetness and felt it running down my legs.
Oh shit, I was wearing a dress. I was going to have a wet spot.
“Hold that thought, Erik. I have to use the bathroom,” I said as I stood.
I walked inside and to the bathroom, feeling as if I had spilled something all over my lap. I grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, and went into one of the stalls. Standing in front of the toilet, I put one of my feet onto the rim of the toilet, and the other on the floor. I lifted my dress up and took the paper towels and tried to wipe up the mess. It felt as if I was wiping with sandpaper. I looked at the moist towels, and strangely felt somewhat satisfied. I tossed them into the toilet, and grabbed a handful of toilet paper. I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and attempted to wipe up the remaining mess. The toilet paper broke up into pieces, and rolled into little wet balls on my thighs and ass. This. Was. Ridiculous. I grabbed another handful and dabbed against myself until it was dry. I opened the stall door and began to walk back outside, feeling both embarrassed and satisfied at the same time.
As I walked through the door from the inner restaurant into the outside, I started to walk past a table of guys my age. My nipples were still so hard that it almost hurt. My period was way too close. Hopefully Erik and I could have some crazy sex before it started. As I walked past, I heard one say, “Look at that bitch. I’d fuck the shit out of her. Sexy whore. Dude, look,” and I saw him nod his head my direction. I walked past, acting like I didn’t hear them. Just like being in a bar, people have no respect for women. Thinking it is one thing, but saying it, especially where someone can hear? That’s so far beyond inconsiderate. I stepped to the table and sat down. When I did, Erik looked a little uneasy.
“My turn now, will you excuse me for a moment? I must go to the restroom,” he asked.
“Sure.”
He stood, and walked for the door. As he did, my eyes followed him. His walk, his stride, gate, swagger, whatever people call it. It was such a turn-on just to see him walk. I got lost in just watching him walk away from the table. When he was almost to the door, he stopped at the table of boys and leaned down, placed his hands on the table, and started whispering something. His whisper was harsh, but quiet, like he intended only for the boys to hear, and no one else. I strained to hear what he was saying.
“Listen to me, you little fucks. I heard every word you said about her when she walked by. I am going to let you slide, one time, this one time. Maybe you didn’t realize she was with me…..”
The waiter walked out and Erik stopped speaking and smiled at the waiter. I acted like I wasn’t paying attention. As the waiter dropped off our food, Erik was speaking again, but I couldn’t hear the conversation. As waiter placed the food on our table and walked away, I turned my ear back to the table of boys, and caught the end of this whispered one-sided conversation.