Submissive Sex Slave Chapter 1: Scarlet

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Scarlet

I sat in the restaurant sipping my wine, nervously swinging my legs as I waited for Steve.  He’d said this dinner was important and that I should not be late.  He’d sounded extremely serious.  He also hadn’t told me to dress up or to wear the sexy black dress that he liked, or, as he often suggested, not to wear panties.  All he had said was: ‘Please do not be late, Scarlet. I have something important that I need to discuss with you.’

And the way he had said it made me think he was going to end our relationship.  Steve was going to break up with me and I was terrified.

The last few months with him had been amazing. We had met, perchance, at an art exhibition.  I had been wandering around on my own and he had very stylishly and expertly picked me up.  ‘Take this,’ he’d said,  passing me a glass of white wine.  ‘You look like you could do with a drink and some company.’  He hadn’t really given me a choice.  And so we had walked around, looking at the art, nudes mostly, silently, side by side, two strangers.

At the end of the exhibition he had asked for my number.  But he had not waited days to call me.  There were no games with Steve.  He had called me that night, told me he was madly deeply insanely attracted to me and just like that, said, ‘ What about sex?’

I am not that kind of girl.  I mean, I may think about sex a lot, often dream about it and go to bed at night with my fingers in my own panties, but I had in fact had very few sexual partners.  There was Mike who I had lost my virginity with, Brian who I had fucked behind the bicycle sheds at college and then John, my fabulous holiday romance.

But I had never just had sex for sex.  And especially not with a stranger. Yet Steve was gorgeous, bright, interesting and – well – we had both felt an extraordinary connection.  From the minute he had come up to me and said ‘Hello,’ I had felt something.  A tingle, a tingle that had gone from my neck, down my breasts, to the pit of my stomach and down, deep down, between my thighs.

My nipples had immediately got taut, straining against my shirt, and I had felt wet straight away.  I had been wet while we looked at the art.  I was still wet when I got home.  And by the time he phoned me, I was totally deliciously soaking wet. 

And so, I had given him my address and that was that.  He came over, immediately.  I had not had time to shower, to put on fresh underwear or to fix my lipstick.  He had walked through the door, pushed me up against the wall, lifted my skirt, and right there, right away, he had fucked me. I had come, straight away, so hard and so good.  And then he had carried me into the bedroom and we’ had done it again. And again.

I had never come so often in my life and so hard and deep and brilliantly.

And when he left, kissing me on gently on the cheek, then the neck and then the eyes, I knew that I wanted to see him again.  And do that, again. More than once.

Steve had everything.  He was good looking and he was smart. He seemed to have a lot of money and he definitely spoiled me. He would come over, bringing me gifts of chocolates, flowers, perfume and sometimes, just sometimes, gorgeous hand stitched French lingerie.  We went out for dinners and he always paid. He drove a beautiful car and he wore elegant well made clothing.  But I had never been to his home.  And I had never questioned it, thinking he would take me when he was ready.

But now, a few months later, he wanted to talk to me about something serious.  Why, why, I thought, could we not just carry on the way we had been.  It was so good, so perfect, so damn sexy.  Why did it have to end?

Why did everything have to end?

Just then, as I was about to give up and leave the restaurant, Steve arrived.  He was wearing his black Armani suit, his hair was slicked back, he had a little stubble, and my God, he was just so sexy.

‘Hey,’ I said.

‘Well, hello. Scarlet, you look incredibly beautiful.  I think I’m going to order champagne tonight.  Dom Perignon?’

He beckoned the waiter.

So he is not breaking up with me, I thought.  Maybe he is going to propose!

I took his hand under the table and placed it on my thigh, quite high up.  Sexy.

‘Do you want to tell me what this is about?’ I asked, expectantly. ‘I have been feeling a little bit nervous.’

‘Scarlet,’ he said. ‘I am not going to play games.  Let me get straight to the point.  I really like the time I have with you.  I like the sex we have.  I have to be honest.  I absolutely love fucking you.  I love fucking you in your house, in the kitchen, on the table, the couch, outside when the neighbour’s are right next door, in the bathroom, in the bath and in fact, absolutely anywhere.’ 

‘Yes,’ I said.  ‘I love it too, you know that. But, I can sense there is something else.  Something you need to tell me. What is it?’

I was a little breathless.  Talk of fucking can do that to me.

‘The but,’ he said, ‘Is that this is not enough for me.’

‘What do you mean, Steve?’  My heart sank.  He actually was going to break up with me.

He started to explain.

‘I have other desires too, dear Scarlet. There are different  things I like to do.  I like – how shall I put this – I like a little role play.  Not just French panties.  A little more than that.  I like, how shall I say this, I like, I want, I want to tie you up.  Hard.  Fast.  I want to spank you. I want to whip you.  I want to use chains.  I want to…

Oh my God.

I knew what he was talking about.  I had never done it before.  But as he was talking, I was getting wetter and wetter. More and more turned on.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘I would like you to do all those things to me.  Yes.’

‘Those things are called BDSM, Scarlet.  And I am rather serious about them. I will explain everything to you tomorrow.  You will  finally come over to the house.  I have a driver, Candy. She will collect you at 9 am. And then I will give you a tour.  You will also understand why you have not been over before.’

‘What should I wear?’ I asked.  ‘And should I bring anything with me?’

‘You need to commit first Scarlet.  What we are going to do is quite a departure from what we have been doing already.  This is a little subversive and a little kinky.  You might find you do not want to do it when you understand what it is.  You may get scared.’

‘I am ready for this,’ I replied.  ‘I could bend over right now, at this table, on your lap, have you pull up my dress and spank me.  I would love that.  I would love to feel your hand, strong, hard, against my ass.’

Steve looked at me.  I think I may have shocked him.

‘If I could fuck you right now, right here, I would,’ he said.  ‘But I cannot.’

Instead he summoned the waiter. who brought over another bottle of  champagne, popped the cork and filled our glasses. We drank. And we ate.  And we drank.  And I kept his hand on my thigh the whole time.  Just a little bit higher, this time.  And just a little harder.

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