Everything was perfect. The sun was setting across the sea, turning the clouds into a spectacle of molten lava. The waves were licking at the shore just a few yards from us, a rhythmic, soft noise that was so calming. We were almost alone on the patio, sated with delicious sea food and a little tipsy from the rich white wine. He had whirled me off my feet instantly.

His hand touched mine, and his expression shone with delight when he looked at me, something I had never thought possible. I was the gray mouse, not even five feet on a tall day, awkward and shy. People didn’t see me. But William had seen me, and he was such a contrast. Tall, wide shouldered and muscular. At times, I felt like he could easily snap me in two without even trying. Sometimes, he intimidated me with that strength. But other times, when he wrapped me in his embrace, when we kissed, he melted my insides and made me feel so safe.

I was in one of my tight, knit, brown dresses. It was hard to find grown-up clothes with a body like mine. Stuff in my size was either printed with silly cartoons or embarrassingly frilly. Tonight, I had foregone the bra, even though I had known how my cheeks would burn when he saw me with what amounted to little more than bee stings on my chest, but I needed him to know I wanted him, that I hoped we would take a step more tonight. I’d never been good with words when it came to my feelings or needs.

When he took my hand, rubbed his large thumb over its back and looked me deep in the eyes, it was all I could do not to melt into a puddle of need.

“Billie,” he said, his baritone easily audible over the slapping of the waves and the whistling of the breeze, “will you be mine, forever?”

It was so unexpected. At first, I couldn’t breathe. Joy bubbled up inside me, and I wanted to shout and dance. But then I realized something was missing. I looked around, puzzled, wondering. I tried to say something, but my lips couldn’t find words.

“Are you missing something, Billie?” He grinned and reached into his jacket’s pocket.

Oh. He was teasing me! I held my breath, my nerves so tense you could have plucked a melody on them.

And then his hand came above the table’s edge, and I stared, and stared, and I didn’t understand at all what was happening, for there, in front of me, wasn’t the ring I had expected. Instead, he held up a dog collar, a circled band of shiny, black leather. It had to be a joke. A sick, sick joke! Tears suddenly pooled in my eyes.

I was unable to resist when he turned my hand over, put the collar in my palm and closed my fingers around it.

“William?” I finally managed to croak.

“I’d like to own you, Billie,” he said, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t sure if all that love I had formerly sensed in his voice was maybe just a pervert’s need. “Hide and hair. You’re just so delightful.”

It was too much. I felt the tearing in my chest as my heart was rent asunder. A pained sob broke free, and my vision blurred. With my last bit of remaining energy, I gripped my purse and stood. I think the chair toppled over, but I started running, stumbling drunkenly in my high heels, with only one thought in my head. I needed to get away, get home, and hide from this horror. I ran through the restaurant, and down the road. I took off my heels and ran further, raced through the park, into the small alley where I lived. I spent almost five minutes to unlock my door because my fingers shook so much, but I finally stumbled inside, pushed the door shut and dropped my things on the coffee table - my purse, my shoes, and, as I only realized now with terror, the dog collar.

~~*

I spent the weekend holed up in my flat and called in sick on Monday. I wallowed in my misery and tried to distract myself with reading and painting. It wasn’t really working. Especially not as that damned black dog collar was staring at me from the coffee table every time I walked past it. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.

I realized how alone I was. My parents lived on the other end of the country, and this wasn’t something I could talk to them about. If I was honest, there were few things I could talk to them about – that they named me Wilhelmette should have been a dead giveaway. They were deeply religious, so much that they often seemed to live in a different age than the people around them. They used stilted words and awkward grammar, judged every little word and action and couldn’t understand the concept of change.

When I had secretly signed up at a college at the west coast, I had shattered their little world. I had to live through three months of constant berating, threats and tears until I could finally leave. College was both salvation and hell for me. I could finally learn all the subjects that fascinated me, join clubs and meet people more world wise than the backwards friends of my parents. It too came with its own problems. In the sea of tall, curvy girls, I was continuously overlooked at best. I quickly had to learn to keep from crying when I was asked again if I had gotten lost here, since people thought I was a high school sophomore, not a college student, and I had to endure a weekly hazing after sports classes, which were mandatory.

Over time, I made a few friend in the arts classes, but I never had a best friend. And then we graduated and were strewn into the winds. I took up a job with a book store that had a small arts gallery attached, a perfect fit with my focus on both historical and contemporary literature as well as visual arts. I worked long hours in the main season when college terms started, and took time off for myself to draw and paint when things were quiet. Rose, my boss, pretty much let me run my own show and became my only confidante.

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t totally ignorant of the world. That the dog collar wasn’t really a dog collar was obvious to me once the first shock was over. I had heard of the term BDSM. Hell, you can’t study literature without being exposed to the French libertines and the shadier Victorian writers.

Wallowing in self-pity only works for so long.

At the end of the third day, I knew that enough was enough, and that I had to find a way to pull myself out of this hole I was stuck in. In the two weeks before “the incident”, as I had come to call it in my head, I had primed myself. My thoughts had been filled with heated pictures of our naked bodies, of touches and kisses. I had even dreamed about his cock, impatient to see it, to touch it. I had tried dating at college, but the few boys there how showed interest never made me feel that way. The few kisses I had exchanged were more awkward that nice. William, though, had stirred something in me.

I don’t know what drove me to do it. I lied to myself that I needed to proof to myself how atrocious his request was. So I found myself in front of the large bedroom mirror that covered the center of my closet and watched my fingers tighten the collar around my neck. It was unexpectedly supple and the buckle was easy to close. I ran a finger over the front, were sparkling gold letters formed the word “Billie”. How insulting. No, that word didn’t even get close. It was meant as a mark of careless possession, pure objectification, so ruthless and sexist that words paled in the face of such audacity. What did he expect? That I’d say, ‘Yes, Sir’ and kneel at his feet, ready to obey every perverted craving that occurred to him on a whim?

Thinking that question was maybe a mistake, but I could of course control my thoughts as much as I could stack dry sand. Because my book-wise mind knew just the pages to bring up, cross referencing DeSade and Sacher-Masoch and Cleland, realized how such cravings were spanning centuries at least, and putting a tiny voice into my head that started asking what it would be like.

~~*

Work thankfully distracted me on Tuesday. I had Monday’s deliveries to price and stock on top of normal sales business, so there was no time for thinking stupid thoughts.

But once I reached my flat, I was facing myself again. The collar still lay on the dresser, mocking me, beckoning me. A strange heat suffused my skin when I looked at it too long, and then, when I was getting ready to crawl into my bed, I caved and put it on again.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad? Another wave of curiosity washed over me, and before I could think better of it, I stripped off my pajama. The collar was all I was wearing. Would he clip a leash onto the golden D-ring under my name? Make me crawl? Did he want to hurt me too, and spank my poor little bum until I cried?

I lost myself in these thoughts and startled myself with my own moan. My reflection stared back at me with a strange arousal gleaming in her eyes, and her fingers were stroking the puffy mound between her thighs. I’d never been good at pleasuring myself, or at least not since college. It always took me ages to reach the big O, and often I just stopped and fell asleep. That I touched myself outside of the safety of my bed was unheard of. I quickly removed the collar and slipped back into my comfy pajamas, but it took me quite a while to find oblivion.

~~*

Seeing him standing there should have come as no surprise. My work was, after all, where we had met. He was a collector, and I had helped him find a number of rare titles from the nineteenth century. I had been giddy to find someone who shared my love of books, and I had basked in his attention and the little bits of praise he rewarded my efforts with.

Today I wanted to die on the spot. The wave of panic when he entered had me frozen. Would he argue? Be crude and loud? I was terrified he’d make a scene. But strangely, he didn’t. He walked towards the shelves and started browsing through them, looking as focused, handsome and self-assured as ever.

When he approached me, without a book in his hands, I knew I couldn’t escape the confrontation, and my mind screamed at me to flee again, to race into our little warehouse and hide behind a shelf. But Rose was at the other side of the room, and he was, after all, a customer.

“I missed you, Billie,” he said softly and without malice, throwing me for a loop.

I struggled to find something to say, but he held up his hand.

“You are struggling with yourself, now, I understand that, and I will give you time to process your feelings. I’m not going to stalk you, if you’re worried about that. But I’ll drop by again next Monday, and I hope you’ll wear these for me.” He held out a small box, wrapped in black and golden paper and adorned with a bow.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I took the box from him and hid my hands behind the counter, afraid what Rose would think. Thank god, she was facing away from us.

“If not, I’ll unfortunately need to take my business elsewhere. Until Monday, sweet Billie,” he said with a frown, and I watched him leave.

Rose was getting up to fetch a new stack of books, so I quickly stuck the box into my purse, my heart hammering wildly for reasons I couldn’t discern. To distract myself, seeing there were no other customers in the store, I helped her sort the books into the right slots and tick off the inventory list.

~~*

His impertinence obviously knew no bounds. I stared at the clamps on my palm, mean things with sharp looking teeth. At first I had thought they were identical brooches, two stylized clams finely crafted in yellow and white gold, but looking closer, that didn’t make sense. I thought of hair clips next, but then I saw the curved form of the clamping parts with their metal teeth. And after staring at them for a little longer, understanding dawned.

It had until then been an utterly theoretical concept. The few times I had encountered clamps in one of the cheap damsel in distress novels I indulged in from time to time, I had imagined variations of a clothespin. Nothing as wicked and cruel and ... beautiful as these.

“I hate you, William,” I told the mirror, my voice sounding choked. I was going to put them back into their box, take that to the store and throw it at his face. “You’re such a looser, Billie,” my reflection responded, shaking her head. “You’ll never get laid. You’ll end up an old spinster with a flat full of cats, and William’s going to fuck another girl, he’ll put her on a leash and make her suck his cock and then he’ll fuck her tight little pussy until she screams with joy, but you’ll be sitting here, alone and frustrated.”

“I hate you, Billie,” I whimpered, but she just stared back with a blank expression. “You know what to do,” she prompted.

“I can’t,” I whimpered, twirling my left nipple. “Really, I can’t!”

But my reflection didn’t care. She slipped the spread clamp around my nipple and let go.

“Ow! Oh fuck, this hurt!”

“Don’t be a wuss. Do the other one.”

~~*

I prayed Rose wouldn’t notice. There was no hiding the bumps on my chest. I had considered wearing a bra, but my reflection would have none of it. He needed to see them. That was the point. I had put on the knit dress again that I had worn that night, and the brown made it a little less obvious. My head jerked up every time the door chime sounded, but an hour went by, then another, and the throbbing in my nipples was turning into pain again.

Then he entered, when I was already contemplating heading into the restroom and taking them off.

“Hi, Billie,” he said while he approached me. “How are you this fine day?”

“I’m good, Mr. Carruthers,” I lied, and it was evident in my voice.

“Do you have a minute for me? I’m having trouble deciding between a few books, so I could use your expertise.”

“Sure,” I said, and stepped around the counter on wobbling knees.

I followed him past the first two rows of shelves, then he veered into the familiar section of historic prose. We stopped, and I could feel his delighted gaze touch my chest.

“You’re wearing them, Billie,” he said quietly. “How do they feel?”

“They’re hurting me. William, why-”

He put a finger on my lip, shushing me, and my lips tingled. For a moment, I couldn’t say whether I hated or loved that he could do that. Then his hands gripped my hips and effortlessly lifted me past him. My back touched the wall.

“I need to see.”

“No!” I whispered, stiffening. I tried gripping his wrists and stopping him, but he just took the hem of my dress and slid it up, further and further, not even registering my struggle, until it was bunched around my neck and my whole body was exposed. He leaned close, ran a finger over each clamp, and my breath hissed when my nipples tingled delightfully and smarted at the same time.

“Pretty,” he whispered, staring me in the eyes for a moment, then his large, warm hand touched my tummy and slid slowly lower.

“Don’t!” I manage to squeeze out after a few frozen seconds, but it was already too late.

His fingers slipped inside my frilly white panties and over my puffy Venus mound, making sparks explode on my skin. The tip of a finger found my opening and rubbed gently around the outside. My legs started trembling.

“You’re wet,” he observed quietly. “You’re wet for me.”

I closed my eyes. The wet finger trailed higher now, slipped between my labia, and unerringly found my hidden button of lust. I froze, but he didn’t attack it, that would have been too much, too soon. He slowly circled it, and I had to bite my hand to keep the moan from getting out and alerting Rose to our shenanigans.

A heat unlike anything I had ever experienced when playing with myself suddenly built in my lower body, and my eyes went wide. “Stop, please!” I pleaded urgently, gripping his wrist once more.

“I’ll stop when you say you’ll be mine,” he said, smiling with the confidence of a man who knew he had won.

I wasn’t this easy. I held out as long as I could. A second. I faltered. “I’ll be yours,” I declared, my grip on his wrist turning frantic, and he stilled his hand.

For a minute, we stared into each other’s eyes. Then he leaned close and mashed his lips on mine. His finger started moving again, and his other hand gripped the back of my head. This time, he rubbed directly over my swollen pearl, and there was nothing I could do.

The heat turned into a furnace, formed into a volcano, and then condensed into a sun before exploding through my body as a supernova, obliterating every conscious thought. I screamed into his mouth, but he mashed our lips together so hard that nary a sound escaped.

He withdrew, and I couldn’t keep myself upright. My back slid down the wall until I was sitting on the ground, staring up at him with glazed eyes, my pussy still twitching with aftershocks and leaking onto the hardwood floor, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

“I will be away for a few days on a business trip, but I’ll be back at the end of the week. I’ll pick you up Friday at eight. You’ll spend the weekend with me.”

No question. Just a statement. Maybe an order. I rubbed my face to clear my head. “What should I bring?”

“Your toothbrush. You won’t need anything else.”

“Oh,” I said stupidly.

“You should get yourself presentable before your boss catches you,” he said with a wink. “See you Friday.”

I took a deep breath. Then I scrambled upright and hastily pulled down my dress. I felt dirty. My panties were soaked, and I was sure I could smell them. I needed to go the restroom, clean up and remove these damn clamps.

My cheeks nearly burned to a crisp when I turned into the main aisle and almost bumped into Rose.

“Didn’t he find what he was looking for?” she asked.

“He – uh – he already had it. The book, I mean. But I’ll find something else for his collection.” Oh fuck. Why did everything suddenly sound like a double entendre? I prayed she’d stop prying.

“Good. Make sure you find something for him, Billie. He’s a good customer. Keep him coming back.”

“I will,” I promised, nearly dying with shame, and squeezed past Rose. “I gotta go to the restroom,” I apologized.

I thought I heard her chuckle behind me, but I had more important things to focus on.

~~*

I was nervous. I almost started biting my nails. The big hand moved to three minutes after eight. I looked down at my high heels. Yes, they were spotless. Just like the five times I checked before. I had my purse. My toothbrush was inside. The clamps throbbed, but it felt comforting in a way. I ran my fingers along the edge of the collar, and a shiver raced up my spine.

I yelped when the doorbell rang, and then I almost yanked the door open, catching myself at the last moment.

He had always worn a suit. Tonight, he was in jeans and a white polo shirt, with a brown sports coat that fit him well. He had the buttons undone, and I got a glimpse of his chest.

“Hi, William,” I managed to greet without stuttering.

“Hi, Billie.” He took a step forward, and I realized I was blocking the way. I hurried stepped backwards until we were both inside. “Where’s your collar?”

My breath hitched. My shaking hands reached into my purse, and I pulled it out. He took it from me, opened the clasp and wrapped it around my throat.

A whining noise escaped me.

He closed the buckle and took a step back. “Perfect,” he said with a warm smile that stirred up butterflies in my tummy. “Your toothbrush?”

“In here,” I said, patting my purse.

I was taken off guard when he lifted the strap of the purse off my shoulder, reached inside and took out the toothbrush. I stared at it when he pushed it into my hand. My head followed the purse, which he put on the small dresser next to the door. “William?” I asked.

“I told you. All you need is your toothbrush.”

All of a sudden, I felt a tug on my collar and looked down, then my head snapped up and I stared at his face. He had hook a leashed to it while I was looking at my purse! He tugged again.

“Let’s go.”

“No!” I gasped. “We can’t! Not like this! If anybody sees me, they’ll-”

“They’ll think you’re mine. Which you are. Aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for my answer. He plucked the key from inside of the lock, opened the door and pulled me outside. He switched off the light, locked up and slipped the key into his pocket. Then all I could do was scurry after him down the stairs, out onto the sidewalk and to the gleaming black sports car that was apparently his.

He held the door open and waited until I was inside, then he slipped the loop at the end of the leash over the small clothes hook above the door.

When he was seated himself, he smiled at me and patted my thigh. “Good girl.”

~~*

The flat was huge, and unlike anything I had seen before. It was all just one single room. Kitchen, dining area, living room, bedroom – all was one single open space. Even the bathroom was just a section next to the sleeping area, with a glass walled shower and just a waist high enclosure around the toilet providing some privacy. It was ... hedonistic. Yes, that was the word. I told him so.

He smiled. “Finally,” he said. “There’s the smart girl with the big words again. I missed her.”

I blushed madly and stood next to the large dining table, watching him while he took off his jacket and slipped it on a hanger. “I don’t know why I’m going along with this, William.”

“Really?” He went to a dark wooden panel that ran horizontally along a wall and pushed a hidden button. The panel slowly swung down and revealed a well-stocked bar. He poured himself a whiskey and dropped two ice cubes into the glass. “Barbaric, I know,” he said lightly and picked up a taller glass. I watched him pour rum, whiskey and different juices into a shaker together with crushed ice. I gave it a few shakes and poured the mixture in the glass, poured a little grenadine on top and stuck a straw into it. Then he approached me.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” I said hesitantly when he held out the glass. “I’m a lightweight.”

“I know,” he said.

I took the glass and clinked it against his.

“Take a large sip,” he said and nipped on his whiskey.

It was sweet and delicious. You couldn’t really taste the alcohol, but I felt it the moment it reached my empty stomach. “It’s strong,” I observed, stirring it with the straw. “Good, but strong.”

“As it’s supposed to be.” He took another sip of whiskey and eyed me over the rim of his glass. “I had expected more questions.”

I took a deep breath. Then I took another long sip, alcoholic buzz be damned. I needed all the courage I could get. “I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you expect. I have no idea what to expect myself. What am I to you? Your girlfriend? Your lover? Your ... sex slave?” My throat barely got out that last one, and shivers raced up and down my spine.

He swirled his remaining drink and smiled. Then he slipped and arm over my shoulder and led me towards the kitchen area. “You’re mine, Billie. Let’s not limit that to a narrow definition. You’re whatever I want you to be at any given moment.”

“Like property,” I said. We stopped in front of the wood topped cooking island.

“I like the term ‘valuable commodity’ even more, Billie.” He took the cocktail from my hand and stepped back. “Take off your panties.”

“How romantic,” I said. I tried to glare at him, but there was a strange, exciting tension in the air that made me lightheaded. So I whimpered instead, slipped up the hem of my dress and pushed my panties down. I stepped out of them and stood back up, straightened my skirt and wiggled nervously on my feet.

“Are they wet, Billie?”

“Soaked. You like saying my name when you say crude things.”

“You caught me there. Show me how wet they are, Billie.”

I gulped. This was all so crude and weird, but somehow, it was terribly exciting. I folded the gusset inside out, held them up and bit my lip, embarrassment washing over me. My nipples suddenly reminded me that they were still there, still clamped and throbbing and sensitive. Something like a small moan escaped my throat.

He chuckled and leaned close. “You weren’t wrong,” he observed, and took my panties from me. He carefully folded them so the gusset was at the outside. “We shouldn’t put such a wet, dirty fabric on this pristine wood,” he said with a smirk. “Now what to do with them...” He looked left and right, then he focused back on my and softly gripped my chin. “I know. You’re going to hold them.”

I reached up, but he shook his head, narrowing his eyes. Then I felt his thumb press lightly down on my chin, and I understood.

“William?” I asked, but he just intensified the pressure, and I knew it wasn’t up for discussion. He wanted to put my sodden panties into my mouth. “Why?” I gasped, then I succumbed to the pressure.

“I want to see you blush.” He slowly pushed the wad of fabric past my lips, and a musky, bitter-sweet taste coated my tongue. My nipples tingled again, delightful warmth filled my lower body, and I didn’t understand a thing.

His finger pushed upwards on my chin, and I closed my mouth, feeling nasty and ashamed. “Your eyes are so pretty when you’re embarrassed,” he praised, and the warm feeling intensified. Then he reached down and pulled the hem of my dress up past my waist.

His strong hands wrapped around my midriff, and he lifted me effortlessly onto the island.

I whimpered with needy embarrassment, for he could, for the first time, see my pussy, puffy and dark with arousal. I had never developed a thick patch of hair, so I had taken to shaving it.

A breathless groan pulled my attention back to him. His eyes were wild and dark, focused on my exposed sex, and he was breathing hard. “Oh my god,” he said quietly. “It’s exquisite.”

I swooned. My heart was trying to escape my chest. I had always been self-conscious about my girlish pussy, but in his face, I saw pure adoration.

His hands suddenly gripped my legs above my knees and lifted them up and out. I had to lean back onto my elbows, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. William leaned forward, spread my legs even wider, and then his lips touched the inside if my thigh near the very top, which sent my skin on fire.

I was dying, and soaring, and whimpering through my nose when he kissed and licked and nibbled on that soft, sensitive skin there, causing feeling I had never believed possible. I wanted to cry out in delight, to tell him how unbelievable this felt, but with my mouth stuffed, I had to struggle to get enough air through my nose. He licked my pussy lips with long, wet strokes that made the muscles in tummy dance. He bit my labia, pulled with his teeth like an animal about the devour me, and I whined and creamed. It felt incredible, like a dream, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, his lips wiggled between my pussy lips and found my clit.

He sucked hard, almost painfully, and flicked it with the tip of his tongue. I thought I was going to melt, and then all that pleasure exploded out of me and crashed over me like a huge wave. A squeaking sound filled the air, and spots started dancing in my vision. My body twitched and jerked out of control.

Only William’s strong hands kept me on the island top.

Aftershocks racked my lower body when he coated my pussy lips with gentle licks, and a tear trickled down my right cheek. I felt so incredibly grateful for this wonderful gift.

He lifted his head and grinned at me.

I probably looked silly with my cheeks bulging from being stuffed with my panties, but I grinned back deliriously.

Suddenly, he growled, lifted me and threw me over his shoulder. I squeaked, but he didn’t pause. He carried me across the flat and threw me onto the bad. His hands pushed my legs wide apart, and he knelt between them.

My breath froze when he undid his fly and pushed down his trousers. I had been sure he was big, but I’d had no real concept. The stiff cock that he exposed was massive and long. And for the first time since I met him, I became fully aware of the enormous difference between us. I stared, and trembled, and only realized he had reached out to my pussy when a fingertip touched my opening and pressed against it.

I was sopping wet, thank god, and his finger slowly slid inside, stretching me like two of my own digits, reaching so much deeper than I could myself. It felt incredible! I arched my back and moaned through my nose.

He slowly began to finger-fuck me. In. Out. In. Out. My breathing adapted to his rhythm; my tummy started rolling with his thrusts. I lost myself in the hedonistic pleasure.

He stopped. Pulled out.

I whined.

Then the pressure was back, stronger, and my whining rose in pitch when the stretching was back in renewed intensity. He had added a digit, and I nearly lost my mind when he had stretched me enough to resume the fucking. At that moment, I loved him.

I felt a pillow being moved under my butt. His fingers slipped out, making me whimper with need. He tilted my legs up a bit and leaned over me. This time, the skin pressing against my opening was like silk, and I couldn’t breathe. I tried to reach down to make sure he went slowly, but he gripped my wrists and pushed my hands far above my head, nailing them to the mattress with his weight.