“Don’t be nervous.” He lays me on the bed on my back and strips his clothes off. “I’m going to make you mine, and I want you to remember it as a good experience.” His cock is bigger than ever, and the thought of how much he wants to bury it in my ass scares me. But I’m ready, too. I want him inside me, more than I’ve wanted anything before. He bends my legs back until my knees press up against my chest. He licks me, the tip of his tongue probing into my hole. His fingers come next, working up to three of them. “This is a lot how it’s going to feel,” he says as his finger joints slide in and out of my sensitive ring.

“Mmm,” I moan.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

He withdraws his fingers and I try not to tense up again as he rolls on a condom, takes a tube of lube, and smears it all over his cock, then presses the tip to my hole.

The first inch feels amazing, and I relax a little, eager for more. And then it’s suddenly too much, and my asshole throbs with the pain of a stubbed toe.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “Just hold onto your knees and focus on how much you’re going to like it.” There’s a big push, and the head of his cock pops through. It suddenly feels better. Wow. It’s in. There’s a sense of yielding as my most private, tightly controlled part gives up all control to him. My ass and pussy throb intensely. He keeps pushing, an inch at a time, and I gasp as the rest of his cock slides into my back passage, all the way to the hilt.

He leans over me, watching me intently. “How’s that?”

“Fucking hot,” I manage to say.

He grins and kisses me. “It feels incredible for me, too. You’re so tight around my cock.” He begins to thrust gently, and it feels hella intense. Good, but pain is lingering just beneath the surface. “Rub your clit,” he says, and this makes the difference, tipping the scales in the right direction. He leans back, watching his cock going in and out of my ass, as he spreads my labia wide with two fingers. It feels so wrong that he’s fucking my ass instead of my soaking wet pussy, and the thought fills my mind while I work on my clit. He moves faster and harder, and it feels better and better. My ass has relaxed, and every thrust feels amazing. I start to shudder all over, and then I come, my asshole spasming hard around his cock, big waves detonating through my body.

“I knew you’d love it,” he growls as he turns me around carefully, keeping his cock inside me. He pulls me onto my hands and knees, and he screws me from behind, his balls slapping my pussy as he ploughs my ass. So dirty, and so incredible. He speeds up, drilling me faster and faster.

“You’re mine now, forever,” he snarls in my ear, and a moment later, he comes too, burying himself even deeper into my ass, ejaculating deep inside me with a roar.

He pulls out very slowly, leaving my ass feeling weirdly open and bruised.

“Just tap it like this,” he says, and as his finger presses on it, it closes up gradually.

I go to the bathroom to collect myself. I feel shaky, like I’ve been through something significant and potentially traumatic. But kind of exhilarated too. When I come back to the bed, Adler holds his arms out to me and I sink into them gratefully. He holds me against his chest and kisses my head. I lie there, stunned. When I lost my virginity for the first time, I didn’t guess that I had another, darker, more difficult virginity remaining. Waiting to be taken by a man who had complete domination over me. I’m glad it was him. And if it hadn’t been him, it might never have happened. None of my exes tried seriously to fuck me in the ass. Sometimes their cocks would stray there hopefully, but I just adjusted my hips, and the moment passed. I like the fact that it evidently means a lot to Adler, too. There was nothing casual about it; it was serious, momentous.

“Do you prefer anal sex?” I ask him anxiously, not sure if I could do this on a regular basis.

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “It feels great being in your ass, but you have a beautiful, tight pussy. However, as part of your training, I’m only going to fuck you in the ass for a while.”

My mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”

“Yup. I think it will do you a lot of good.”

I give a shudder.

* * *

Adler is true to his word. In the following days, he continues to message me, telling me when he wants me to wear the butt plug. I’m free to masturbate, but forbidden from putting anything in my vagina, including my fingers. I spend almost every waking minute in a fog of need. I’m turned on practically all the time, and I masturbate at least twice a day in the office. It has the effect that I’m sure he intended. I start to fantasize about him fucking me in the ass, yearn to feel his cock in there again.

We meet every two or three days. Every time I arrive at his door, I strip off and leave my clothes in a pile, then buckle the collar around my neck before I ring the bell. Sometime he wants me the second I come through the door; other times he likes to tease. Being naked all the time while he’s clothed continues to feel hot and dirty. He touches me a lot, casually groping my breasts while we chat in the kitchen, his fingers slipping inside me while we sit on the couch. I get the message: I’m his, and he has access to my body anytime he wants it.

He continues to tie me up, either over the bench or standing against the wall. Sometimes he whips me, but just as often he teases me, getting me all worked up, then leaves me blindfolded with clamps on my nipples, desperate for him to come back and fuck me.

And every time he fucks me, it’s in my ass. He always makes sure I’m ready, but his initial gentleness has quickly given way to rougher entrances. If he tells me to come to the house with the butt plug already in my ass, I know he’s going to take me as soon as I arrive. He’ll push my face against the wall of the hallway, pull the plug out, and replace it with his cock. Then he’ll screw me hard and cold. He fucks me over the stool in the kitchen, bent over the couch, and while tied hand and foot to the bench. I come every time, even without being able to touch my clit, my ass so sensitized and ready for him.

“I would love to fuck you in a public place,” he says one day. “Where people are watching, wondering if I’m taking you in the ass.”

“I’d like that,” I say slowly. “Have anywhere in mind?”

“Maybe,” he replies with a smile. “Hold that thought, and I’ll get back to you soon.”

We don’t only have sex. Sometimes we play for an hour or so and then, true to his word, he cooks dinner for us both. During these times his voice changes from his hard, staccato demands and interrogations into his other, softer timbre. When we eat, he gives me a long T-shirt to wear, and we sit at the island in the kitchen or on the sofa, chatting like any other couple.

One night, he asks if I want to watch a movie. “Your choice,” he says.

I hesitate, unused to choosing anything in this relationship. “How about a romantic comedy?”

“Sure,” he says after a beat.

I laugh. “Kidding. I’m actually not a big fan of sappy movies.”

Adler digs me in the ribs until I shriek. “Think you’re funny, huh?”

“Sometimes.”

“Maybe I should make you watch some real violent guy movie to teach you a lesson,” he says, squeezing me tight and muttering darkly into my ear.

I raise my hands. “I’m ready. Maybe I have a thing for guns and ridiculous car chases.”

We flick through recent Academy Award winners and pick last year’s best picture, which neither of us have seen. We settle back on the sofa, but I fidget, trying to get comfortable with the heavy collar around my neck.

“Come here,” he mutters, and he reaches behind my neck and unbuckles it. And then he pulls me against his body, wrapping one of his arms around my shoulders. I sit very still, hardly daring to breathe. Are we really snuggling on the sofa together? Are his lips really resting on top of my head, his breath warm on my hair? I miss the first ten minutes of the movie because I’m reveling in the sensation of being in his arms, of doing something that’s been so normal to me ever since I started dating guys. And he was willing to watch a romantic movie with me. What the fuck? I wasn’t lying about my aversion to sappy films, but if I’d known he was going to hold me like this, Sleepless in Seattle would be playing and I’d be gunning for all the mushy bits to break through his unromantic shell.

He sits still while we’re watching, but every so often, his hand slides up and down my forearm, and more than once, I think I feel him inhaling the scent of my hair. I have to take a bathroom break halfway through. I return to the sofa gingerly, certain that he’ll have changed position, but he welcomes me back and, if anything, holds me more tightly. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, endorphins flooding my body. This moment couldn’t be any more perfect.

And then I force my attention back to the screen. It turns out there’s a dash of romance in this movie, too. A male and female character are reuniting after being separated by a war for the past ten years. The guy tells the girl he always loved her, but he was too scared of what the future held to tell her. The camera zooms in on the girl’s big liquid eyes, full of emotion and understanding, and they kiss. My heartbeat speeds up and my breath catches in my throat. Adler shuffles in his seat, then he reaches for the remote and hits pause.

“Bathroom break,” he announces, getting to his feet and stretching.

I glower, watching his retreating back, certain that something just passed between us.

When he comes back, he’s far more casual. He doesn’t wrap his arm around me, but sits next to me, his shoulder just brushing mine.

* * *

“You look happy,” Hugo says when we’re having beers on a Friday night. He’s been living here for three weeks now, and he seems happy, too. He likes his new job, and he’s been on a couple of dates with one of his workmates.

“I am,” I say, surprising myself. I’ve been so wrapped up in Adler for the past few weeks that I haven’t had time to think about the fact that I don’t feel lonely anymore.

“Who are you dating? Tell me it’s not the guy from the club.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

Hugo sighs. “He was an entitled asshole.”

I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t. I can’t explain to Hugo that it’s a game we play. He wouldn’t get it at all. A part of me feels deeply uncomfortable that I’m doing this thing he’d probably think was very weird and maybe even disgusting.

And it bothers me I have this situation that’s exciting and fulfilling, but I have to keep it quiet from everyone—everyone except for Monica, of course. With her, I share every juicy detail.

“Stop, Rea, you’re getting me too horny, and Rick is away all week,” she moans.

“I’m not apologizing. Remember all that stuff you used to tell me about your sex life that totally scandalized me when I was Miss Innocent and Prissy?”

“But this is on a different level. This is a real-deal dom-sub relationship.”

“Yeah, I know. But—”

“But what? Why do you suddenly sound so down?”

“I want more. Every time we do something normal together, like watch a movie or he cooks dinner for me, I wish he was my boyfriend.”

Monica lets off an epic groan. “Girl, do you realize how lucky you are? You’ve got a seriously hot guy who fucks you exactly how you like to be fucked and treats you respectfully. A lot of guys who are into that scene are seriously fucked up, believe me. At best, they’re giant nerds, and at worst, they’ve got a lot of issues. Enjoy it for what it is, and please don’t ruin it by trying to turn it into something else.”

“But I want him to be more than a sex partner. I’ve never met someone as cool and charismatic as him. He says he doesn’t have relationships, but I don’t get it. He’d be the perfect boyfriend. I think I’m falling for him.”

“Rea, listen to me. You need to stop that right now. He’s not a keeper. He’s there to have fun with for a while, explore your dark side, which it sounds like you’re doing extremely well, then go find yourself the all-American boy of your dreams to settle down with.”

“You’re right,” I say, after a long pause. “He’s been very open with me about how he feels, and I don’t have the right to try to turn it into something else.”

But the feeling doesn’t go away.

The following day, Adler has a surprise for me. There’s a black leather swing hanging from the ceiling of the S&M room. There’s a strap to support my ass, and each leg slides into a separate loop. When he swings me back and forth, my legs swing wide apart. He watches me, very pleased with his new toy. Then he gets undressed and watches me some more, idly stroking his cock. At last, he steps forward and plunges it into my pussy, ending a two-and-a-half-week drought. Fuck. It’s almost indescribably good. I’d forgotten how sweetly intense it felt, with none of the awkwardness of anal sex. It’s just pleasurable. And with the swing bearing my weight, I lose myself to the pleasure of his cock pounding into me.

“What have I done to deserve this?” I gasp.

He gives me a wicked smile. “You’ve done everything I’ve asked of you. And this is your reward.”

It turns out the swing can be adjusted to support my weight in different ways. With a few tugs, I can lie on it face down while he slides his cock deep into my throat, and then he spins it 180 degrees and fucks me from behind.

“I wish I could do rope work,” he says. “I’d like to have my friend come and tie you up in a very restrictive position.”

I stiffen. We’ve never talked about anyone else being involved in our games, and I don’t think I like the idea of it.

“Were you saying you want your friend to join in?” I ask him later, when we’re lying in bed.

He smiles. “Would you like that?”

I bite down on my lower lip, wanting to say no, but unsure whether it’s something I should agree to as his sub. “Would you?” I say instead.

“No. I would enjoy watching you being tied up, but when it comes to sex, I want you all to myself.” My chest flutters. I want him all to myself. All the time. I love being his submissive. I love looking at him, kissing him, and spending time with him. I love the way we have dinner together and watch movies. When he’s not being a merciless dom, he’s kind and courteous and fun. In practically all the important ways, he’s like a boyfriend. Except that he’s not my boyfriend.

“Come here,” he says and holds me in his arms. I’ve started to feel like a puppy during these moments, cherished and pampered, but not his equal, and unable to make any claims on him.

A couple of weeks pass, and Adler continues to push my boundaries further and further. I never know what to expect when I arrive at his door, quickly strip off my clothes, then ring his doorbell. I wonder if he plans a whole scene before I arrive, or if it’s all spontaneous. He always has new games, new ways of humiliating me, making me submit. He’s not a sadist, I’m pretty sure. He doesn’t like to hurt me for the sake of it. If he whips me until my skin breaks, it’s because I’m stubborn, and all he wants is to see me beg. He enjoys making me choose between two equally uncomfortable things. For example, either being left bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the bench for an hour, or deep-throating his cock all the way to the hilt. Either keeping an excruciatingly painful set of nipple clamps on for an extra ten minutes, or submitting to a beating with a wooden paddle, my least favorite implement.

I worry that I won’t keep him satisfied, that I’m not as good a submissive as the other girls he’s had, and every day, I work at being better, at holding my body just the way he wants it, at taking his cock deep in my throat without throwing up, at taking his cock in my ass with little preparation.

And every day, my heart twists as I fall for him a little more. Sometimes I don’t want to meet him because, as ecstatic and delirious as I feel after sex, a few minutes later, a chasm opens up in my soul at the knowledge that he’s not really mine. And every little generosity from him is a bitter little reminder of how perfect things could be if he didn’t have a weird aversion to relationships.

“Maybe it’s a conversation you need to have?” Monica suggests. She’s given up telling me not to fall for him because I’m clearly a lost case.

“No. Absolutely not.” I’m shaking my head vigorously, even though she can’t see me. “I agreed to this arrangement. If I go back on it now, he’ll just stop seeing me altogether. I can feel it. He’s really”—I search for the right word—“aloof. Like, he’s so kind to me, but I feel that he’s like that with everyone. If I freak him out by confessing my feelings, he’ll probably go out and replace me the same day.”

“Well I think you’re wrong. But I also know you’re as stubborn as all hell,” she replies.

* * *

One night, Adler doesn’t seem to want to play. When he greets me at the door, there are dark shadows under his eyes and a tightness in his jaw. He orders pizza and takes me onto his lap to watch a movie instead.

“I have to go away for two weeks the week after next,” he tells me as I get into his bed, feeling oddly chaste. “But before that, there’s a Kinky State Ball, and I was wondering if you wanted to go?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a fetish ball. There’s always a theme, but you can wear whatever you like, as long as it’s latex or leather or in some way pervy. There are also playrooms, and usually a couples’ room where you can have sex.”

“It sounds wild.”

“It is. It’s a lot of fun.” He plays with a strand of my hair. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“So…you want to play with me there?”

“Playing in public can be a lot of fun.”

“What if I saw someone I knew there?”

“You’re thinking about your boss, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“You could wear a mask.”

“Really?” I’m quiet for a moment, turning things over. “What would you want me to wear?”

“I’d like you to be naked, wearing my collar with a leash. Wrist and ankle cuffs. And a mask if you wanted.”

“You can be naked if you want?”

“Yup.”

I imagine myself like that, so many strangers looking at my body.

“You’d feel very vulnerable. But no-one would touch you. I’ll see to that.” His voice hardens, and I imagine him leading me around, showing everyone that I belong to him. My clit jumps.

“You like that idea, don’t you?”

I make a small sound.

“And after I parade you around and get you all hot and worked up, I’ll take you to the playroom and whip you a little. And then everyone will see the red stripes on your ass.” My breath catches and I can hardly breathe. He pushes me down on the bed, holds me down with a hand on the base of my throat, and enters me roughly. “And then maybe I’ll screw you senseless.” He fucks me hard, mercilessly, until we both come.

* * *

By the following morning, I’ve decided I want to go to the ball. Part of me wonders if he’d still go if I didn’t, find another submissive to take instead. I look at the Kinky State website and see lots of impossibly beautiful people in elaborate outfits. The ball happens every two months or so. Does he always attend? Sitting in the restroom at work, I flick through the photos from the past year, but can’t see him. The giant knot I currently have in my stomach is jealousy and insecurity. But this is what I’ve wanted all along, to be out with him in a public place, as if we’re a real couple. And now I’m ruining it. I need to get my shit together.

I message him saying I want to go, but I need an outfit. I can’t do naked. As much as the thought turns me on, I just can’t. He replies a couple of hours later.

Excellent news. Leave it with me.

When I get home from work the following day, there’s a delivery. Inside the package is a large pink box with a Japanese name written on it, and inside the box is a beautiful dress made entirely of rubber. It’s an indigo-colored sheath with a lace pattern printed on it, knee-length, with a halter-neck and a very low back. I hold it up in awe. I never would’ve guessed that rubber could be so delicate. There’s a sheet of instructions on caring for it and putting it on, and I powder the inside and step into it carefully. Then I look in the mirror. Wow. I look sexy. I’m no longer the eternal girl next door. I look wicked and dark. It flatters my figure perfectly, even making my breasts thrust forward more than usual. He knows my size. It’s not a huge surprise since he has amazing attention to detail. All his BDSM equipment is exactly the right fit for me. The sex swing was perfectly adjusted to our heights before I ever laid eyes on it. I often wonder whether he’s a crazy perfectionist in everything he does. I can’t keep this dress to myself. I go into the living room, and Dom lets out a scream.

“Oh my god! You look unbelievable, girl! That dress was made for you! Is it a Haruna Makiko?”

“I think so.”

“That’s some expensive shit.” She’s looking at me in deep admiration. “Did you get a pay rise?”

“Nope. It’s a gift from Adler, the guy I’ve been dating.”

“Mmm, the man of mystery.”

My cheeks warm. “It’s for the Kinky State Ball. Have you heard of it?”

“I’ve been a few times. It’s one of my favorite events. Annnnd I just happen to be performing there this Saturday! It’s only a small gig, but I’m real happy to be there.”

My mouth falls open. I’m not sure whether to be horrified or relieved that she’s going.

“So I’ll finally get to meet him?”

I perch on an arm of the couch, take a deep breath. “Um, yes. I’m sorry I’ve been elusive about him. We just have an unconventional arrangement. And I was a little embarrassed.”

Dominique’s eyes dance. “Say no more. Is it the guy you met at the Sexpo?”

“Yes. But how did you guess?”

She shrugs. “You’ve just seemed different since then. Happier, more relaxed. Show me a photo?” The only photo I have of him is one I took, like some obsessive maniac, while he was asleep, and I’ve been feeling incredibly guilty about it ever since. Nevertheless, I show her and watch for her reaction.

“Classy, Rea.” She giggles. “Wait…I know him, I think.”

There’s a little jolt of adrenaline in my chest. “How?”

“A friend of mine used to be his sub.”

“What, really? Was it—was it a good experience?” I ask, not sure what I should be asking, but desperate to know something.

Her lips tighten. “She said he was an amazing dom. But she totally fell for him, which wasn’t what she’d planned at all. She ended up confessing her feelings, and he told her he didn’t feel the same. It was a total headfuck for her, and she stopped seeing him. Even now she can’t stand the sight of him.”

“Wow.”

“Have fun, girl. I’m sure you are. And he’s such a hottie. But make sure you keep that heart of yours safe.”

I smile weakly, but my stomach is totally churning. When I get back to my room, I surprise myself by bursting into tears. He’s probably got a whole trail of broken hearts looking back at him. I pull the dress off as quickly as I can and stuff it back in the box. And I’m just one more silly girl falling for those caramel eyes, which hide an unyielding will.