“Resistance does not mean walls and fences, nonresistance does not mean open space. If you can understand in this way, mind and matter are fundamentally the same.” -Tsu-hsin
I loved the local coffee shop where I spent most days typing away on my laptop with the comforting bustle of the fellow caffeine addicts around me. I often found myself preoccupied with the people coming in and out; each one of them was captivated by their phone as though it were a long-lost lover. It is not only millennial’s who are transfixed by the glowing screens that have become fused with our palms; people all around have taken to hiding behind them and this rendered most incapable of interpersonal relations. How can we develop any sort of attraction to anyone if most are unable to make eye contact and deny others the simple pleasure of spoken words? Still, I found enjoyment in watching their expressions and imagining their conversations as they typed out their messages with furious intent. The businessman with the furrowed brow, frustrated by his incompetent co-worker who was unable to close a deal with a potential client. The overworked student frustrated by her friend’s inability to communicate directions. The scorned lover venting to her best friend about her cheating husband’s imagined whereabouts the previous night.
Amused with this particular mornings entertainment, the individual I had been waiting for walked in at last. He came in with the breeze and I stole a moment to enjoy the very sight of him. He was gliding a graceful hand through his blond windswept tangles, and wearing a white polo that fit him perfectly and accentuated his shoulders. His blue eyes found mine and pierced the very depth of me. He was twenty minutes late, which had irritated me but the look in those eyes instantly melted that away and made my stomach tighten with excitement, instead.
I stood to face him as he apologized for being late. He offered no accompanying excuse, just a plain apology which I could appreciate. I extended a hand to introduce myself and his answering grip sent ripples down my spine. He motioned me forward. “Shall we?” I grabbed my laptop and followed him into a semi-private room. The space featured a glass panel that acted as a barrier between us and the rest of the world. The man took a seat across from me and we looked at each other with a spreading silence that intimidated me.
Jacob was a Dominant. I had come across his blog months ago while doing some research for an article I was writing. I had become captivated by his beautifully written pieces about his life and his many experiences with bondage. Intrigued, I had taken a chance and reached out to him in the hopes he would allow me to interview him. Not only for a piece I wanted to write for work, but for personal reasons as well. My life is like a chess game. After living through numerous traumatic experiences I feel safest when I control all the pieces; where they go and when. After having read Jacobs work, however, I found I was intrigued at the possibility of being submissive to someone. As I mulled it over in my mind, I laughed at the very notion. I am far too stubborn; I would need to be broken in like a wild horse. I have spent my whole life surviving, control is all I have.
The streaks of sunlight came through the skylight and reflected the gold flecks in the white marble wall behind Jacob. The effect created a halo around his blond head. Ironic, as his personality reflected something darker. “Shall we begin?” He inquired. I nodded and thanked him for coming. I reiterated my interests in learning more about his life and experiences with the intent of using the information for an article I was writing. As I rambled, Jacob observed me intently, nodding politely as I went on. When I was done he pulled out a small black box from his messenger bag and placed it in front of me.
“What you want is clear and I will be happy to oblige you, however, only if we play by my rules.” I looked at the box hesitantly. “Go on” Jacob encouraged. Opening it, I was presented with what appeared to be a silver bullet accompanied by a small remote. My heartbeat quickened as my wide eyes looked down in surprise. “What should I do with it?” I asked coyly while trying to keep my cool. “I want you to insert it inside you for the length of our conversation.” Jacob said calmly. “Consider it a field experiment, if you want to get technical.”
Taking the bullet between my fingers, I allowed myself to feel the weight of it and ran the tip of my thumb along its smooth surface. Lost in thought, I imagined the sensation of having it inside me. Looking back up at Jacob, I blushed. This role reversal was foreign to me; I always make the rules, never the other way around. I rose with the intent of going to the washroom and doing as I was told when Jacob stopped me. “Sit, I didn’t say you could get up.”
Confused, I looked at him. It took a moment when I realized what he expected me to do. Refusing to be unnerved, I sat back down and waited for further instructions. He looked at me and smiled. “Sit straight and spread your legs.” I kept my gaze firmly on his as I followed his instructions. “Take the bullet, moisten it with your mouth, then bring your hand down and insert it.”
Although the idea of doing something like this in public terrified me, I have to admit I found myself getting incredibly aroused by the entire situation. Bringing my hand below the table, I lifted my skirt above my thighs. Using one hand to move my panties aside, I used the other to insert the bullet. Heat rose in my cheeks as I enjoyed the cool sensation sliding inside me. Jacob smiled devilishly and gave me his final instruction. “Place your hands on the table.”
I slid my hands out from under it and Jacob finally rewarded me “Good girl.” and reached for the remote. He surprised me, then, by pushing the button. The pulsing vibration making me jerk against the table. “Just checking.” He smiled again, turning it off. “Now, my dear Taryn, we can begin.”
The conversation started casually. I was given permission to ask some basic questions; where are you from originally? When did you start writing? Who inspired you? As I tried to listen to his answers, the distraction of having something inside me made it difficult to focus. Every time I shifted, the bullet shifted with me. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the combination of Jacob’s penetrating stare with being forced to keep my hands on the table made me incredibly wet with desire. As the conversation edged forward Jacob began asking me questions about myself; why do you want to be submissive? Why the sudden interest? Why did you choose me?
As I thought about the best way to answer, I suddenly felt the low hum of the vibrator between my legs. First setting: Low. Taking me by surprise, I momentarily lost control of my thoughts. The vibrator stopped. “Answer carefully Taryn, for there will be consequences.”
As I began speaking, the vibrator turned on again but I was determined and continued with as much control as I could. Regardless, I could feel the orgasm slowly begin to rise.
Seeing it too, Jacob grabbed my wrist and held it firmly. “Focus!”
I continued speaking as I focused on the pain from his grip and tried to ignore what was happening between my legs. I wanted this interview – it was important. I had to collect myself.
As if reading my mind, his next action put me to the test. Jacob increased the vibration to full intensity and I had to claw my nails into the table to restrain myself.
“Do you want to come, Taryn?” Jacob’s tone had become stern. I nodded shamefully with my eyes on the table. “Then ask me if you can!”
I looked up. I had never asked anyone for anything, let alone for permission to come. The vibration ceased, suddenly. “Ask for permission, Taryn.” Jacob repeated.
The vibration started again. The orgasm was coming and I felt too weak to stop it, too stubborn to ask for permission. The vibration stopped again. Jacob stood and pocketed the remote. I was hot. I was ready. I would have given anything to have him fuck me right there on that table, careless of who saw. Jacob walked over to me and ran his hand along my cheek, down my neck. “This was your first lesson. We meet again next week. Same time, same place. Oh – and you aren’t allowed to touch yourself between now and then.”
He gathered his things and left me breathless and confused but smiling to myself at what was to come. What had I gotten myself into?
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