The stranger gives me a slow, seductive smile with bourbon still on his lips, and pays the tab before leading me towards the door. I wink over at Scott right before we leave and he doesn't look happy. I shake off the frustration over his attitude. Jerk.

I can’t let the nagging feeling of wanting our friendship back to normal stop me from enjoying ticking this box on my list.

The stranger leads me over to his...it's a quick Uber. Shit. When you Uber--the person who requests the ride puts in the address. Scott may have been partially right. This is going to be a damn hassle when I leave. It'll be rather awkward to ask him his address so I can order one to take me home. And a bit expensive.

But right now, I don't care. Right now, I want to come, and this sexy bourbon-eyed, bourbon-flavored man is going to get me there. Hopefully more than once.

The ride is mostly silent, but the air is charged with electricity and tension. I "accidentally" graze his leg with mine again. He gives me his knowing smile again. I adjust my position so my dress hikes up a little farther on my legs, barely covering my panties, rejoicing when I see his nostrils flare in response. My entire body tingles with anticipation and the slightest hint of nervousness.

With each item on my fuckit list, I've done something a little crazier. Granted, this was only the second if you don't count fucking my best friend. Who knew buried underneath my prim and proper behavior, this side of me was lying dormant inside.

The Uber stops in front of a really nice apartment building. No way can he afford something like this if he was an unknown artist. I shove away the continued curiosity of who he really is, and take the hand he holds out for me as he helps me to my feet.

He doesn't release my hand until we're inside his place. He gestures to his couch. "Make yourself at home. Wine?"

I sink into the plush black leather. "I'd love some. Thanks."

He disappears into the kitchen, and I try to calm my racing pulse. This is exactly what I wanted. And it had worked! I couldn't believe how easy it had been.

He returns and sits beside me, handing me a wineglass.

"Thank you."

"I need to tell you a truth now."

"Okay." The word is drawn out, revealing my growing anxiety.

He stares steadily into my eyes. "I'm into kink."

My breath catches and my eyes widen. "I see."

"I need you to tell me another truth. Have you ever tried BDSM? Are you into it?"

I sip at the wine, flushing as I remember myself bent over Professor Roux's desk. "I've been spanked, but that's it. I've never experienced anything else."

"Did you enjoy it?" he asks, but like he already knows the answer.

I purse my lips, a little uncomfortable with talking about it like this with a stranger. "I did."

"What do you know about the lifestyle?"

I shrug. "Just what I've read in novels."

His lips twist. "Those aren't exactly the most realistic portrayals."

"Okay."

"Are you interested in experimenting? I'll go gently since you aren't experienced."

I postpone my answer by taking another sip of wine. I'm not sure, but I've come this far. "I am. I think."

He nods, a little business-like. "Choose a safe-word. That way if you are in pain or want to stop, use it and I will stop immediately."

My brow wrinkles in thought. "Uh...pineapple?"

He smiles. "Excellent." He takes my wine from me and sets it on the coffee table. "One more truth." He leans close until only a whisper separates us. "I've wanted to taste you all night."

I smile back at him, anxious to see if he tastes the way he looks. Like bourbon. Like sex. "Me too."

He slides along the couch, moving with slow and careful movements like he's worried I'll bolt, like I'm a wild thing he's trying to tame. I'm not sure he's wrong. My heart's trying to pound out of my chest, and I drank way too much bourbon because my head won't stop spinning.

He cups my jaw in his palm and presses his lips to mine. His taste is exactly what I thought it would be. I light on fire from his touch, flames flickering over my skin. I shiver and press my body into his. His mouth grows harsher and possessive in response to my whimper. His hands move to grip my upper arms and dig into my skin with almost bruising strength.

He pulls away. "Until you use your safe-word or I release you, you are mine to command. You will obey me and not question my commands. If you don't, you will be punished. I won't hurt you, but there are many ways to punish you without pain."

I'm so worked up, I'll agree to anything at this point. "Okay."

He glares at me. "You will refer to me as "Sir.""

I nod. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl. One of the ways I might decide to punish you, is not allowing you to come. If you continue to disobey, I won't fuck you. And I know you want to be fucked." He slides his hand up my dress and rubs my pussy through my thong. "You're already so wet and ready for me to take you. Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, sir." I'm breathless with lust.

"And I will. As long as you are a good girl, I will fuck you as much as you can handle. And then I'll fuck you again."

My fingers flex against his hard chest, my nails scraping at his shirt. He reaches around to my back and slides the zipper of my dress down, peeling the fabric from me, revealing my bare breasts. He leans back from me in order to admire them. My eyelids are heavy with desire and my chest heaves with shortened breaths, making my tits jiggle. He palms them, his skin warm.

"They're beautiful."

So I've been told. By everyone who’s seen them except Adam.

My back arches as he thumbs my nipples and a moan falls from my lips. He captures the noise with his mouth, pressing me back into the couch, covering his body with mine, never releasing my tits or my mouth.

The leather is cold on my back, making me shiver and press closer to his warmth. He kisses down my neck, down and down and down to my breasts, replacing his hands with his hot mouth. He sucks my nipples hard, and I gasp, clutching tighter to his back. He rises and peels the rest of my dress off until I'm clad in nothing but my stilettos and my black, lacy thong.

He growls at the sight of me, tossing my dress to the floor. I stare up at him, my pulse skittering, wondering what comes next.

He doesn't make me wait long to find out. He opens the drawer of the table beside the couch and pulls out some sort of small chain and what looks like a cross between a cat toy and a feather duster. It has a long thin black handle with bright red feathers at one end and the head of a crop at the other.

My chest tightens in response, my eyes wide.

"Trust me. It will give you pleasure and if it does not, use your safe-word. It's called feather-play and will heighten all your senses."

I nod, eyes still trying to understand what my body will feel.

He shoves the chain into his pocket. "Close your eyes. Keep them closed until I give you permission to open them."

"Yes, sir." After one last desperate glance, I do.

Nothing happens for several long moments, the pressure building inside me even though nothing but the air in the room touches my naked flesh.

At last, the slightest brush of the feathers slides down one of my arms. I jerk and tremble, squeezing my eyes shut hard so I don't give into the temptation to peek. The feathers leave my arm and trail across my collar bones, then down through the valley of my breasts and he draws circles around my belly. I squirm, wanting contact on my nipples, but he ignores me. He turns his attention to my legs, teasing the back of my knees, the inside of my thighs.

Goosebumps follow in the wake of the feathers, rising along the path. I grip the fabric of the couch beneath me and bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. My pussy is drenched and my nipples are pebbled, begging to be touched. I want him to fuck me. I'll do anything if he'll just fuck me.

Instead, he continues the strange torture. The feathers touch every inch of me except for the parts that ache for it most.

"Please, sir."

"Please, what?"

"I don't know. Anything. Fuck me, touch me. Just please, sir." I barely remember to tack on the "sir" at the end.

"Keep your eyes closed." Pleasure and pride makes his voice gruff. He likes it that I begged.

I hear the tinkling of metal, and almost open my eyes.

Cool metal trails up my belly making me shiver. Partly from the chill, partly from anticipation.

"This will hurt just a little, but it will add to the sensations. If it hurts too much tell me, it's supposed to mostly just feel like a strong pressure."

Something hard clamps onto one of my nipples and it tightens, sending fissures of pain zooming through me. I barely hold back a scream. But the pain morphs, it isn't as sharp, it's actually rather pleasant. It's unrelenting, the constant pressure. He clamps my other nipple, but I'm more prepared this time. I whimper, but the pressure returns quickly after the first flash of pain.

It’s like no other sensation I’ve ever experienced..

But it's not enough. I'm so close. So. Close. Why won't he just fuck me?

He slides off my thong and adjusts my position on the couch, spreading me wide by propping one of my feet against the back of the couch and the other on the cushion underneath me. I give a passing worry to my sharp heels puncturing the fabric, but if he doesn't care, neither do I.

Maybe now he's finally going to fuck me.

Instead he uses the feather again. Up and down my legs, along my neck and ears, then teasing over my aching nipples. The different sensations drive me wild until I'm almost thrashing, tilting my pelvis, my core desperate for contact.

He brings the feathers back to my thighs, with each brush getting closer and closer to my pussy. It's been so long. I just want to come. Tears prick at my closed eyes and the sounds coming from my mouth would be embarrassing if I wasn't so horny and desperate.

And if I didn't know he was loving it.

He yanks a little on the chain between my tits, sending small shots of heat through my body while he continues his torture with the feather.

My body shakes uncontrollably. He yanks again and I can't hold back the scream this time. "Please, sir."

"Oh, beautiful girl. We've barely begun." His tone carries a dark threat.

I don't know whether to be dismayed or thrilled at his words. All I know is I will do whatever he wants me to. If he will just fuck me, dammit.

His lips press against mine, plundering my mouth. His shirt pulls at the clamps on my nipples, bringing me even closer to the edge. I've never come without any sort of clit stimulation, but if he keeps this up, I'm convinced I'll have my first time.

He raises up away from me, making the chain sing and finally, finally, finally, the feathers glide over the lips of my pussy. I open my legs wider, wanting him to have as much access as my joints will allow.

He slides them all the way down to the crack of my ass. I tremble and tense my body to try and stay still. I mutter curses. The feathers are so light, they do nothing other than tease, and make it worse.

"Open your eyes."

I do, blinking them against the lights. The stranger is seated on the coffee table beside me. "Look at yourself."

I frown, but obey. I'm open wide and my nipples are clamped, the chain twinkling from the table lamp's light. My breaths are short and fast, making the clamps pull.

I look back at him and he smiles darkly. "Open your legs wider."

I don't know if I can, but I try. My legs spread a little farther until my lips are open, revealing my glistening clit. He stands and stares down at me, the feather whip thing at attention in his hand. He takes a couple steps away from me until he's by my legs and then he turns to face me, his eyes zeroed in on my center.

I watch as he trails the feathers back down my body. He starts at my neck, then trails them across my clamped nipples, dips them into my belly button, then slides them over my mound and down one of my thighs. He slides it up my other thigh and then through my wide open cunt. I can see the moisture make the feathers damp.

"You are so wet and gorgeous."

I whimper. "Please, sir."

"What do you want?"

"Please make me come, sir."

"Yank at the chain."

"Yes, sir." I lift a shaking hand to grasp the chain and pluck at it, gasping at the shards of pleasure it causes. I pluck harder, the only real pressure I've gotten all night. I cry out.

He lifts the feathers and spins it so the crop part is on top.

And brings it down directly on my clit with a sharp slap.

I scream and shatter and buck and gasp. The climax is short, but strong, burning through me like fire. The room spins and the tips of my fingers go numb from how tightly I clench my hands into fists.

Before I've caught my breath, he removes the clamps, rubbing my sore nubs with gentle fingers, which brings another rush of heated pleasure. He tosses them and the feathers on the coffee table before helping me up. My limbs are heavy and I'm having a hard time moving on my own.

I slump against the couch, tremors still twitching through me. He hands me my glass of wine and I take a gulp, hoping to steady myself.

"Well? Would you like to go farther?"