Selena Kitt

Katie and the Dom

It was Mr. Thomas Dunn, in the library, with the book. Her best friend, Lori, kept saying. “If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have this stupid bee in your bonnet about this whole BDSM thing!” and she was probably right. It was quiet, polite, balding and bespectacled Mr. Dunn coming into her library looking for “ The Erotic Bondage Handbook ” who had created an itch she couldn’t quite scratch, who had set her, unwittingly, down this very path, a long and winding road that now ended with Katie sobbing uncontrollably, naked, on her knees, and choking on a ball-gag.

Katie learned everything from books-she always had. She supposed most librarians did. So while it started with her own copy of “ The Erotic Bondage Handbook,” it didn’t end there. She moved on to more titillating fare quite quickly, from Anne Rice’s novels, written under a pseudonym, of course-there was always an air of the obscene about the topic, no matter where she turned-to “The Story of O.”

She couldn’t seem to get enough of the commanding Doms, the bright red spankings, the maddening restraints and there was something about the allure of a flogger that promised to sting like bees and fall like rain on the tender, untouched terrain of her pale white flesh that left her breathless and desperate, twisted in her sheets at night, crying out with longing.

And then she started going to the BDSM Internet sites. At first it was just to glean information, and then, she had to admit, to meet people. Maybe there was someone out there, someone local, who might be interested in teaching her? Because more than anything, Katie wanted to learn. She wanted to be the one on her knees in front of her master, following his lead, giving herself over completely to his desires.

Well she’d gotten what she wanted, and as Lori, from whose mouth dripped the most tried and true cliches, had warned before she went to meet Patrick for this first-ever play-date, “You should be careful what you wish for!” Lori was also full of stories about serial killers who posted ads on Craiglist just like Patrick’s, psychos looking for their next eager, willing victim. Lori had been sure that Katie was doing this at her own peril.

And Lori had turned out to be absolutely correct.

Once Katie was naked and shackled and gagged, she’d discovered something she didn’t expect-she was afraid. This man wasn’t a psycho. He’d made her sign an agreement, they’d negotiated a safeword and limits, they’d worked out the scene, just exactly what he would do to and for her. She knew she was taking some risks. She was, after all, in his basement, in a soundproof, padded room-but it was a nice, suburban house with a picket fence for god’s sake! And Lori knew where she was and why she had come. She had safeguards.

So why was she trembling with fear?

As Patrick plucked equipment off the wall-a crop, a flogger, things they’d discussed-she suddenly realized her mistake. She didn’t trust him. For whatever reason, she didn’t trust this man to take her where she needed to go. In fact, she was quite sure that he couldn’t, that this, whatever it was they were playing at, was wrong. After all her anticipation and dreaming about this moment, she knew, as Lori would say, “with every fiber of her being,” that she needed to stop.

She knew her safeword-she’d had it in her head for months and had told Patrick what she wanted to use-but she couldn’t say it because the red ball gag in her mouth made her effectively silent. He’d given her clear instructions though on how to “tap out” if she was gagged-three short taps on the mat and the scene would end. Except her hands were restrained above her head. And she was sure Patrick hadn’t anticipated her wanting to end things before they even really began!

Patrick turned toward her, tall and lanky, a handsome specimen of man in his snakeskin boots and leather pants, his shirtless chest smooth, his belly flat and ridged with muscle. There wasn’t a thing in the world wrong with him. She liked him a great deal, in fact, had since the beginning, or she wouldn’t have agreed to any of this in the first place.