We'd become friends over time, always seeing each other at the club,  flirting, teasing.  At some point we'd exchanged numbers, and then he came  over for some late night conversations.  Something about him fascinated me.   I couldn't have put my finger on it... perhaps because he was so different.   Perhaps it was because I had never spent any real time talking to a male  Dominant.  The type of Dominant that interested me -- a hard player, one  who dealt pain.  And yet he wasn't abusive.

 Well, I guess that depends on your definition of abusive.  I've seen the look, when a sadist is truly enjoying hurting someone else.  Unmasked, the  glee on his face scared and unnerved me.  He liked to make her beg... to beg to stop.  It was still within the terms of safe word, but it frightened me.

 He was different.  He dealt pain because he enjoyed it, but his needs  of sadism were similar to the needs of masochists.  And I based that  judgement not only on myself, but on what I had seen in the needs of others.   He played hard, and demanded much from his submissives.  Yet it was done  with a level of caring.  He clarified that in scene was different.  The person  was different.  The way he treated them was different.  And after scene he  was different.  Caring.  Calming.  His presence spoke of that.
   I'd fallen asleep in the late afternoon, and his call at 8:00pm  awakened me.  Well, sort of.  I'm never quite awake when I first wake up...  I  get to this middle stage which, if it's too heavy a sleep will put me right  back to sleep after a phone call.  At 75 to 80 degree weather I wasn't  sleeping that deeply.

 He told me he was thinking of going out, and asked me if I wanted to  join him.  In a half-drowsy state I told him I was probably in for the night.   We hung up.

 Five minutes later I was fully awake and called him back, explaining  the fact that I had been asleep, and asking him if the offer still stood.  It  did.  Fully awake I teased him, asking his suggestions as to what I should  wear.   We narrowed it down.  My new black stretch mini-skirt... possibly, I  said, coyly not wanting to commit.  I knew I would though.  I knew he would  like it.  And I love to tease.  I hinted at him I might wear my new heels, 5"  spiked black patent leather.  But perhaps not...  I still teeter too much.   Haven't quite learned to walk in them.  But the excitement in his voice when  I mentioned them made me want to try.  I didn't identify the feeling until  now, but he made me want to please him.  It was part of his style.
 We ended the call, and I hurried to the shower, washing quickly and  toweling off.  I didn't have too much luxury time, but I managed to rub lotion  into my skin and let the last part of my hair dry naturally so it would curl.   Using the blow dryer completely dries it out and leaves tangles.

 Then I had to figure out what to wear.  The black skirt, of course....   Possibly a shirt?  No, a black body suit.  Of course there were choices there  too, because I have several.  I chose a simple one, with a high neck and the  shoulders cut out.  It was little warm out at the time for longs sleeves, but  I didn't plan on taking a jacket and knew it would cool down.  Garters  seemed like too much work, so I opted for sheer black panty hose.  And then I  tried on the spiked heels.  And teetered.  Walking from one mirror to the  other, I applied my make-up, hoping that my feet would get used to the  height.  They began to hurt.

 With a sigh I put them back in the closet, pulling out my next highest  heels, which are about 3 1/2".  High, but not exciting.  As it turned out, I  was ready early so I wondered around the apartment and decided to do one  last quick check on mail.  Logging on, I delete list stuff, and then log off.   Then I wandered back into the bedroom, applied perfume, and thought about  those spiked heels again.  On a whim, I traded them out of the closet.
 Strangely, this time they didn't hurt as much, and it seemed like my  step was firmer.  I guess wearing the lower heels had made my feet familiar  with the shape.  I decided that I could wear the high ones that night.   Pleased with myself, I smiled as I went to answer the door buzzer to our  building.

 I opened the door and stepped back, waiting until I heard his steps on  the last set of stairs to walk out the door.  He smiled as I appeared, and the  appreciation in his eyes made me feel beautiful.  He held out a bunch of  flowers.

   He was dressed in all black, the silver chains on his jacket the only  relief to the solid color.  His dark hair pulled neatly back into a short pony- tail.  We exchanged a warm hug which brought me to tip-toes despite the  heels, and then he followed me in, closing the door behind him.  I went into  the kitchen for a vase and water.

 "You look incredible" he said with an intensity that both made me  smile and turn away in embarrassment.

 I tried to pass it off lightly with a "thank you, kind Sir", as I put  the vase down on an end table.  I turned and he was following me.  We hugged  again and then were on our way.

 "Your car or mine?"  I asked.  Silly question.  His.
 -*-

 I was very impressed just standing on the street looking at his car.  It was not the car that impressed me (a dark grey Nissan Sentra), but the fact  that it was actually clean!  Even I don't keep my car that clean.  Even the  inside was spotless.  A perfectionist, I thought.

 On the way to the club we talked about music.  It seemed we had  similar taste, and Dream Theater was playing in the CD drive.  About half way  there he casually changed the subject.

 "That outfit is beautiful."  He told me.  "And you know how it would  really look nice?"

 "How?" I asked, looking at him.

 "With a collar."  He gave me a moment to digest that information.  I  had to admit it had crossed my mind.  He reached up to one of the pockets in  his jacket and pulled out a collar.  Which he'd "just happened" to have with  him, of course.  Right.

 I took the collar in my hands and gave it a long look, pretending to  study it while my mind raced.  It was a simple collar, black leather that  buckled in the back, with a silver ring in the front.  I was torn.

 Carefully I placed it on the dash board, not exactly refusing it, but  the accepting it either.  I wanted to....  I knew it's significance and implications.   I had fantasized about it for a long time.  Mentally I felt safe with him, and I really wanted to put on the collar, but there was a part of me that held  back.

 Decisions.  Implications.  It was the implication that bothered me.  To  put on the collar would mean to be owned.  Once on, I would not remove it.   He would.  I don't know where I came up with this logic, I just did.  And I  thought of Lasher.

 Lasher and I have an open relationship--as long as we talk honestly,  and are safe we make it okay.  But to not belong to Lasher?  Even in scene  space?  I did not know.

 Then I realized I was being silly.  I would not change my love for  Lasher no matter who's collar I wore.  I think I secretly wished it was his  collar.  Then even if I was in scene as someone else's submissive it would  still be his collar.

 Once I rationalized this out, the decision was easier.  Yes, there  would be repercussions from the scene, but it was something I wanted to do,  and I thought I could handle any repercussions.  Tentatively I picked up the  collar and buckled it on.  He looked over at me, brushed his hand over my  cheek and gave me a warm smile.  My heart jumped with excitement.

 There is something freeing about submission.  It's exciting and scary  at the same time.  Here I was, sitting in the car of someone I knew and yet  did not know at the same time.  Change the context, and you change the  person.  I now knew _of_ this person sitting next to me, but I did not know  him.  And the newness of that alone was exciting.  New scene.  New person.   New freedom... I just felt very alive at that moment.
 -*-

 The club was called Jacques, and it was very interesting.  Apparently,  it was a major hang out for TV's, TG's... PeeWee Herman....  It's a long story. Let's just say I could have done without PeeWee.

 We circled around and made the customary greetings, he knew more  people than I did, but I knew a few.  The women there were gorgeous.  Some  pre-op, many post-op, most very beautiful, and absolutely convincing.  In the  back there was a small stage set up, and the women could come up and Lip  synch very professionally to the music.  As they sang people would hand  them money in compliment.  He handed the woman singing a dollar as she  performed.  Then he handed a dollar to me to give to her.  Uncomfortable and  a little shy I looked at him for reassurance and he nodded forward toward  the stage.  I slid over on the cushion and held out the dollar.  A graceful hand took it from me without loosing a beat.  I scooted quickly back out of the  spotlight and we continued watching the show.  Well, if you can call it  watching.

 Part of me watched because the women were truly fascinating.  But  there was another part of me that was acutely aware of the dynamics  between us.  I scooted back across the couch I was quite close to him.  I was  sitting, hands folded together over the back of the couch, sitting sideways  to it.  And he stood above me, almost touching but not.... at least not at first.

 I don't know which one of us starting it; I can't remember whether I  leaned back to rest against him, or he started playing with my hair and neck.

 Gently at first, brushing his fingers through my hair, and sliding his  thumb over my lips.  And then more demanding.  Gripping my hair firmly;  holding my neck in place.  Occasionally pulling it a little as a reminder to  me that he had control of the way my head moved.  I leaned my body toward  him.  His other hand moved to tug gently on the collar around my neck.  Then  at some point, using my hair, he pulled my head backwards and gently kissed  me on the lips.  I stared at him, unable to break the eye contact as if  magnetically pulled.  Finally I did, lowering my head as far as the grip on my  hair allowed, still leaning against him.  And we proceeded to watch the  show.

 Occasionally he would move away, walking toward the open space on  the floor to hand a singer a dollar.  About the third time he went to do this I stopped him.  There was a feeling there of wanting to please him.  And this  time I knew how to do it.  With my eyes and my hand I motioned for the  dollar.  Surprised, he handed it over.

 I smiled at him, then clutching the dollar rolled over on the couch so  that my heels were waving in the air, and the rest of my body stretched on  the couch.  I thought about the picture it made as I held out the dollar as  high as I could.  The black skirt and teddy molded to my body, and the gold of  the heels glittering in the light.  I felt his hand reach out and grab one. There was a definite appreciative gleam in his eye and smile.  He let go  of the heel and I straightened up slowly, curling my body effortlessly back  into position.  I received a kiss as a reward.

 At 12:00 the club shut down, and it took them about 15 minutes to get  everyone out of the club.  We hooked up with three friends and discussed  moving on, or separating from there.  Suggestions were thrown out until we  were thrown out, and finally we decided to join the three of them at one of  their houses.

 By this time I was truly starting to thing of him as Sir, although I had not yet vocalized it.  But I felt like I had fully placed myself in his hands,  and was willing to go along with whatever He wanted.

 We arrived at the house directly after the others, and got half way up  the stairs when I realized I'd accidentally left my purse in the car.  I wasn't  worried about my purse, but I was worried about the safety of his car if the  purse was visible.  Stopping, I turned to him and explained.  I started to  apologize but I was cut off, and he gripped me roughly by the arm and the  back of the hair and yanked me around.  He called an explanation to the  others and we went back down the steps.  At the bottom he let go of my hair,  but kept a grip on my arm as we walked back to the car.  I apologized to him  and explained that it was not my purse but his car that mattered.  Halfway  back he stopped and kissed me; a quick, punishing kiss, and then kept us  walking.  We retrieved the purse and then finally made it into the house,  where we joined the rest in the living room and talked.

 At some point everyone started comparing and showing toys, and  scene just seemed to start.  He, then he and I topped one of the others while  she leaned over the bed.  We worked well as a team, he was easy to match  pace with.  He set the pace, of course.

 Then the two others played, all of us helping out a little until they  were exhausted.  Finally, it was our turn, and he used the leash clipped to  my collar (when had it been clipped on?  In the car, I think....  funny, I had  forgotten about the leash until writing this now.) He used it to bend me  over, scratching my thigh with his nails. Then he pulled me straight and used  my hair to pull my neck to the side.  His bite to the muscles at the top of my  shoulder took me too my knees.

 It was an incredible sensation, to have my knees collapse under me  from pain.  I've only had that happen once and it was because I passed out.   This was not all that far from it.  My eyes were shut, and my knees just  collapsed under me, bringing me down to the floor sight unseen.  It was pain,  but it was a pleasurable pain.  I whimpered under it.  When he let up I opened  my eyes.  I heard him whisper "very good" like a caress under his breath.   And then he helped me back up.

 His next moves where not quite as gentle, as he threw me down on the  bed, pinning me with a hand on my neck, and kicking my legs apart.  His nails  raked my skin, scratching down my back, bottom and thighs, and then back up  again. I wiggled under his fingers, and he placed one of his legs between  mine, to keep them from closing.  I tried to hold them apart without his help. I remember moaning, feeling his hand jerk my hair back and then stopping to  kiss me.  I moaned into his kisses, leaning forward, trying to express my  gratitude.  Then he would start over again with his nails.

 It's a good thing I'm a moaner, not a screamer.  Our scene was  interrupted suddenly by a knock on the front door.  He and I froze, and our  host and his girlfriend closed the door behind us as they went to the front  room.  It was the police.  One of the neighbors had called about the stereo  being up to loud.  We'd been so wrapped up we hadn't even heard the music.  I  think our host started breathing again after the officers left.  That pretty  much ended the scene, and wrapped up the night.  Straightening clothes,  everyone left shortly after that.

 -*-

 It was 4:00am when he and I drove back to my place.  On the way I  explained to him that I was torn, that half of me wanted to invite him in to  continue the scene, but the other half was scared because I did not trust  myself.  I was horny, and hormones have this strange way of screwing with  one's judgment.  At least it does with mine.   In the past, when I had  allowed hormones to overwhelm judgment I had beat the hell out of myself  later.  And I explained all of this to him.   He said he was also torn.  Part of him wanted to stay and play, and the other part of him just wanted to cuddle  me and fall asleep.  I felt a little abashed that I had not thought about  cuddling.  Usually that crosses my mind.  I guess my hormones were in  overdrive.

 In the end, he did come up to my apt.  To use the bathroom.  And  somehow the hug goodbye ended up on the with both of us on the couch,  cuddling, tickling, and loosing items of clothing at the same time.  And then  we were naked, rubbed up against each other teasing and cuddling at the  same time.  All in fun... and mutual pleasure--kissing, pinching, running  fingernails over each other.  And then the question came up again.  The couch  was becoming small and uncomfortable and the bed seemed like such an  attractive alternative.  Again my fears stopped me.  I felt comfortable with  him.  I wanted.... more from him.  But I was afraid to trust my own  judgment.  Sensing my fear he just held me as we talked.  He reassured me  that just because we chose a more comfortable site, did not mean we  automatically were going to have sex.  It made sense....

 For a while, we just cuddled on the bed.  I curled up against him and  he just held me.  It felt nice, but I had a lot of nervous energy and was  having trouble holding still.   I think I switched to uppity bottom.  Teasing  him, threatening to pull leg hair, looking for ticklish spots on his body.  To  his credit (I believe) as a Dominant, he did not show any reaction to the  annoying things I did, although there was some definite response to my  pleasurable teasing.  We were talking, and although I don't remember the  exact words of our conversation, but I remember the essence.  He was  talking about full submission, and being always curious, I was asking  more  questions.  I didn't understand his explanations.  I do now.

 At some point he said something on the order of 'the submissive has  to make the choice to serve....'  I thought about that.   "What if I don't want to have the choice?" I asked him.   He asked me what I suggested to remove the  choice.            I might as well have offered myself up as a lamb to a slaughter  when I suggested something about 'through pain'.  Quickly, I found myself  pinned on my stomach with his teeth in the muscle of my shoulder, and his  nails raking my legs.  I wiggled and moaned against the pain.  He spanked my  bottom with his hand a few times while continuing to bite.

 A quick break in here, to explain something.  Normally, when I scene  with someone I tell them no open hand spankings.  It is something that is  sexually intimate to me, and I generally do not bottom that intimately.   Unless it is with Lasher, I don't mix sex with topping or bottoming.   Somehow submissive is different because it required a deeper level of   intimacy.

 In the car ride over we talked about the previous scene.  He told me he  did not spank me because he remembered my saying something in the past  about not allowing that in scene.  I was touched by his memory, but  explained to him that it was OK in a Dom/Sub scene, just not top or bottom.   The scratching he had done in the earlier scene was just as intimate to me.

 Now he took full advantage, forcing my head into the pillows as he  spanked me.  His hand spanks were hard, but not strong enough to evoke the  same "dancing" reaction that the biting or scratching had before.

 "Do you have a paddle?"  he growled in my ear.

 "Yes Sir," I whispered.

 "Get it!" he commanded.

 I started to explain that it was in the top drawer next to the bed,  which was right next to him but he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me off  of the bed.  "GET IT!" he ordered sharply without letting go of the crushing  grip on my arm.  Quickly I opened the drawer and fumbled for a paddle.  I  heaved a mental sigh of relief that it was on top.  Gingerly, I handed it to  him, and was immediately thrown back down on the bed on my stomach.  The  paddle came down hard and accurately, pausing only when I threatened to  hyper-ventilate, and then only to let me half-catch my breath.  With each  blow of the paddle my body twisted involuntarily, feet kicking, and hips  twisting to get away from the paddle.  And yet loving it's feel.  Only his hand pressing on the back of my neck kept me on my stomach.  My hands were by  my head, held by nothing but sheer will.  I never even thought to move them  to protect myself.

 "Tell me what you want." he spoke quietly against my ragged  breathing.

 "I want you,"  I replied "But I am still afraid.  I still don't trust  myself."  The paddle came down again.  Three series of blows, with  breathing breaks in between, landed squarely on the burning heat of my  backside.  I don't know if he counted.  I wouldn't be surprised.  I couldn't if I had been asked right then.  My brain felt as if it were shut down, and all I  could feel was my body.  Pain and pleasure mixed with intense need.

 "What do you want." he stated again.  Not a question, rather an  inferred order.

 "I want you....but"  I started. And was cut off as he kissed me harshly, silencing what I was saying.  The paddle came down again, and I swallowed a  sob of pain in the back of my throat as I twisted under the blows.  He paused  long enough to ask again.  This time I did not hesitate.  "I want you" came my  quick reply.

 "Where?"

 "I want you inside of me." I whispered.

 "Louder."

 "I want you inside of me, Sir." I spoke this time, though fairly quietly.

 He jerked my head up by the hair.  "Louder!"

 "I want you inside of me, Sir!"  Prompted by the paddle my voice rang  out in the room.  It continued.

 "Describe what you want!"

 Between paddle strokes and moans I tried to force words out.  Words  that were not part of my every day vocabulary that still embarrass me now  to say.

 "Please Sir," I begged, "I want to feel you deep inside of me... "

 "Where?" he asked.  I blushed as I realized he wanted me to be more  graphic.  The paddle continued.

 "In my vagina, Sir."  My body was crying for sex.  Real sex.  The paddle  continued.

 "Please Sir," I babbled "please....  please, I want to feel you inside  of me.  Deep inside of me.  Your cock in my vagina."  I surprised myself with  the last.  Pain is a wonderful motivator.

 At this point I was completely given over.  All doubts gone, just  physical cravings.  Cravings for the pain and the pleasure.  All sensations  mixed together, existing only for what he wanted.  I had completely  submitted to his desire.

 He called an end to the scene.

 -*-

 It's hard to describe the feelings I felt wash over me when he called  an end right there.  Some relief, knowing that the pain had ended, some  confusion, my head clearing rapidly from the pain, but mostly  disappointment, that it had ended.

 He lay next to me, sensing I think my disquiet, and stroked my hair  and back as my breathing slowed.  When I could almost breath naturally I  turned over and looked up at him, staring for a moment before I spoke.   "Thank you Sir," I whispered.   He smiled and kissed me gently on the lips.

 It was 7:30am, and he was understandably exhausted.  Unfortunately, I  was not, so he took up an earlier offer of a back massage and relaxed under  my fingers.  I persuaded him to take a nap, and that I would take a shower or  something because I was not sleepy.  He fell asleep almost immediately.

 Meanwhile, I picked up the apt. and then showered to cool myself  down.  Around 9:30 I went back into the room and quietly placed a glass of  cold water by the bed.  He was a light sleeper, and awakened to look at me.

 "Shhh" I said, "Get some sleep.  I'm going to run down and put money in  the parking meter for your car."  I took my time, combing out my hair and  brushing my hair before 10:00 when the meters started.  It gave me time to  think.  My body was still whispering 'I want him' at me, and my mind was  trying to persuade me to go along.  I made the decision it was OK, that I  wanted to and would have no regrets.  When I entered the bedroom again  around 10:30 he was awake again, so I sat down on the edge of the bed and  stroked his chest.  Looking him directly in the eye I told him 'no regrets'.
 -*-

 He told me that if I wanted it, I was going to have to put on a pair of  garters.  What color did he wish, I asked, black, black and green, pink, red, or cream?  I like garters, and have a few.  Red was his request.  Of course that  was the one I couldn't find.  We settled for black garters and red fishnet  stockings.  I sat in the bed next to him and put them on.  When I was done, I  stood up to hook the back, and then turned to show him.

 Gently he pulled me down to him, kissing me gently at first, and then  harder with more urgency.  When he finally pulled me off of him, so I was  laying on the bed, I saw him reaching for the paddle.  I buried my face in a  pillow, actually relaxing at the thought of re-starting the scene.  At least  until the first blow hit, then my bottom reminded me just how sore I had  already been, and then I was tense.  I whimpered into the pillow as his hand  on my neck kept me there firmly and the paddle came down.

 "Tell me." he ordered sharply, changing his grip to grasp my hair  firmly, using it to pull my head sideways.

 "Please Sir," I gasped between spanks, "Please I want to feel you  inside of me so much.  I want to feel your body against mine, with you deep,  deep inside of me.  Please....  Please Sir...I want you so much.  I want to feel your cock deep inside of me.  Please Sir."

 Finally he stopped.  I heard him drop the paddle on the bed, and the  sound of the drawer opening as he reached for a condom and lubricant.   I  tried to catch my breath into the pillow, my body too pliant to move.  And  then the grip of his hand on my hair, pulling me up until I was on my elbow,  forcing my head up high.  He pushed my legs apart with his knees, spreading  them wide.  Then I felt him up against me, touching the entrance of my  vagina with his penis.  Teasing.  I had no leverage to push back against him,  but that did not stop me from trying.

 "Please Sir," I cried, "Please..."  He entered me swiftly, almost to the hilt in one stroke.  The pleasure and relief washed over me, leaving me  gasping and moaning at the same time.  And then he proceeded to fuck me.   Not love--pure sex, and lust.  He used my hair to pull me back against him,  while denying me the leverage necessary to get to my knees.  Instead I was  in almost frog position, with my legs kicking on top of the sheets as I tried  to pull back against him.  With his spare hand he raked my back with his  nails, scratching hard and causing me to twist and arch my back with each  stroke.   Occasionally he would bite my shoulders.  I could feel myself  getting close to orgasm.

 "Oh, Sir.  Please Sir.  May I cum Sir?"  I begged.  I did not know if he  was the type of Domme who required their submissive to ask permission first,  and I was not about to risk finding out the hard way.  "Please Sir, may I  cum?"  I begged for permission for release at least 10 times before it was  granted.  It was only about a minute after permission was granted that my  body sailed over the first wave of orgasm.  I remember babbling "Oh Sir!"  repeatedly between moans.

 He carried me over at least 5 more orgasms pinching, scratching,  spanking, before he finally let go.  I was almost completely incoherent by  the time he roared out his orgasm, and moaning consistently.  When it was  over we collapsed together.  Absently the thought crossed my mind for a  towel since we were both hot and sweaty, but I figured I could deal with the  sheets later.  I half rolled toward him.

 "There is a towel off the side of the bed," I grinned at him.  "You're  closer."  He groaned and leaned over the side to retrieve it.  I love the way  men always seem to end up closer to the towel. *smile*  Intuitively I knew  the scene was over.  The mood in the room had shifted drastically, and  neither of us had the energy left to continue it anyway.  Or at least, I  certainly didn't, I cannot vouch for him.  He did fall back to sleep shortly  afterwards however, so I would assumed he was also exhausted.

 Another short cat nap, another shower for me and one for him,  breakfast on a TV tray by the bed, and he left.  I think I smiled for the entire rest of the day, at least.