The unease I had been feeling was familiar, almost comforting. It was the last opportunity to back out. To back out and forget this folly. Anxiety, nervousness, excitement--a cocktail of conflicting emotions seemingly bubbling around my chest. Meeting someone for the first time and knowing that we’ll be fucking soon after. Then never seeing each other again.

My back felt cool leaning upon a nearby lamp post. I was wondering if I should just walk up the door, ring the doorbell, and get this suspense over with, or wait for him to come out and get me here and to sneak me in through the back.

I should have asked him.

We talked plenty about what we wanted to do to each other but not so much about the particulars leading up to that. I wasn’t even sure if we were going to have the house to ourselves tonight. Maybe his family was still with him. Maybe I should leave.

Looking at it from across the street, it certainly looked like a family house. One that had seen children laugh, cry, grow up and leave. High walls with a tall red gate concealed a two story house with a balcony overlooking a long driveway. I began to muse about how that driveway must have been the scene of many a game of hide and seek, or war, or whatever odd games kids concoct to kill time.

The midnight air was chilly and I began to grow impatient. Faint hints of muddled baselines and melodies made its way from the nearby clubs and bars to mix with the sound of cicadas singing to the rustling of the leaves.

My phone rang and it felt as if everything had suddenly grown silent.

It wasn’t too late to turn back. There was a bed waiting for me at home, piles of books, cold pizza, a half finished bottle of red wine. Sure, he’d get mad, but he’d get over it. Who was he to me anyway?

If I picked up the phone now, there would be no turning back. For tonight, I would be his. I would be fully obedient and I would be well taken care of. I felt a flutter in my chest, let go a nervous chuckle, and knew the answer was obvious:

“Hello?” I said as I answered the call.

“Hi, sorry, I was in the bathroom. Did you wait long?”

“Not really, I was just admiring your house.”

“You’re here already then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You should have rang the doorbell.”

“Um... I wasn’t sure if... ”

“Oh, never mind, let yourself in the gate.”

I crossed the street and gently applied pressure to the gate until it gave way and creaked open with a deep hum. I slithered through the small opening I had made for myself and was greeted by a figure waving from the second story balcony.

“Be sure to lock the gate behind you,” he said on the phone.

As I turned around to face the gate, he added, “And take your clothes off before you make your way to the front door.”

“What?” I asked, incredulous.

“Hmm... I thought we had an agreement here, J. Do you plan on not making good on that?”

“Um... no, sir. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause on the line. I couldn’t believe that I had disappointed him so soon. Why do I always have to play dumb and naive when I get myself into these things? I know what I’m getting into. There’s no point in playing coy.

The silence was deafening.

“Very well,” he broke in, raising the mood a little.

Then added more darkly, “Don’t think I’ll let your disobedience go unchecked though. You’ll have to be punished. But don’t worry about that. For now, just undress and make your way to the front door.”

I began to undress, painfully aware of the figure watching me from the balcony. It was the first time I was meeting this man in person and already I was baring my entire self to him. If there was any consolation, it was that the walls and the gate surrounding the house were high enough that I could be fairly certain that no one outside could bear witness to my humiliation. It didn’t make me feel any less naked though.

“Good boy. I want you to walk to the front door. Slowly. With your hands behind your head. When you get there, get down on your knees and wait for me. You can leave your phone on top of your clothes. You won’t be needing that here.”

I obeyed and placed my phone on top of my pile of clothes. I wondered if they would be safe left out here in the open. I clasped my hands behind my neck and slowly made my way to the door. The gravel was cool and sharp underneath my feet. I watched the ground move past me with every step. The night breeze blew at my thighs and teased trickles through my bare skin reminding me of my nakedness with every gust of wind. I dared not look up the balcony to meet his gaze. I was in his possession now.

After fifteen steps on the cold, hard gravel of the driveway were two steps leading up to the front door.

I still had my eyes cast down but noticed movement by the doorway. I don’t know when exactly he had made his way down but here he was standing in front of me. I made my way up the two steps and knelt down just as he had told me to. I looked down at his shoes and I stayed put so that he may could examine me.

“That’s a good slave. So, are you ready for tonight?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Aw, look at you. Would you quit looking so miserable. You know very well that you want this just as much as I do.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

He ran his fingers through my hair.

“You’re not a whore,” he continued. “ I’m not paying you to stay here. You're free to leave anytime you want and you have just as much ‘control’ as I do.”

Somehow, that was the most humiliating thing. Knowing that I was freely giving myself to this man. It was that dirty desire to be used like a whore. These dark cravings. My dirty little secret.

Then, he added, almost tenderly, “I respect your boundaries, J. We’ve talked plenty about this. You only have to say the word.”

I nodded meekly, eyes still refusing to meet his.

“But then again,” he added, his voice suddenly thick with desire, “I think I like what a pitiful slut you look like.”

With a sudden ferocity, he grabbed a handful of my hair and wrenched my head back so that I was staring straight into his cold cruel eyes. I trembled and tried to look away when a glob of spit struck me right underneath my eye. My eyes widened and my body tensed up in shock. Aghast from what he had just done. Then he smeared his spit across my cheek with his free hand and then gave my it a few playful slaps.

“Yes, that’s exactly how I want you to look.”

***

Still on all fours, holding me by my hair, he walked me around the house. First to show me the living room, then to have a glass of water in the kitchen. I stayed on my knees and kept my back arched and ass out as much as possible. Those were part of the rules we had set. I knelt up as he handed me a glass of water and he sat on the kitchen table to admire the view.

“My submissive little sex kitten. Mine all night,” he said without addressing anyone in particular.

He seemed happy with me. Or at the very least, content. I felt proud. I crawled up to where he was sitting on the kitchen table, kissed his bare feet, and nuzzled up to his cock, already growing hard under his pants. He unbuttoned and lifted the small flap of fabric to show me the zipper. I understood what he meant and fumbled to grasp at it with my teeth. As I undid his zipper, I began to smell the familiar mustiness of a man’s sex. Its a scent that makes me weak and makes me want to submit myself all the more to him. Zipper down, I still had his underwear to deal with. He was wearing Calvin Klein trunks that showed off the outline of his cock magnificently. I wouldn’t be able to remove them. My mouth isn’t dextrous enough to remove his underwear without risking a nip at his skin. So I continued to nuzzle at his cock and show him how eager I was to get to it. Hoping he would relent and unveil his manhood to me.

“How bad do you want my cock, whore?” he asked.

“More than anything.”

“Good.”

He took off his underwear and put me face to face with his manhood. All 7 glorious inches of it. I naturally licked his balls first letting his cock wipe pre-cum along my face as I did so. Then I licked up and down his shaft not afraid of getting my face dirty with pre-cum and saliva. He was getting so hard. I took that as a queue to take his dick in my mouth and choke on it. He grabbed my head with both of his hands and made me look straight up at him, his dick still in my mouth. Then he started thrusting his cock while pumping my head forward and back, faster and faster. I was gagging but caught breaths as needed. He gave a few forceful thrusts then he pushed me away and held and open hand in front of my mouth.

“Spit on my hand,” he said.

I spat into his palm then he smeared it, the saliva and the pre-cum, all over my face, lubricating it. It was a sticky, slippery mess. He grabbed my head again and began rubbing his cock along the side of my face. He placed some fingers on the backside of his penis to ensure contact.

“I’m going to cum on you like this, whore,” he grunted.

I folded my arms behind my back almost instinctively and let him take control of my head. He was pumping his cock on my cheeks faster and faster. Then tensed up and shot a load on my forehead.

It was warm and oozed down my forehead, tracing my brow and falling off my cheeks.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said.

I composed myself--sat down on my heels, straightened my posture, put my hands behind my head, and knew that I was.

***
To be continued...