Beth

Part One: The Caring Dominant

Beth was an accountant for a small firm. She had a lot of multitasking to do at work. She had to do a lot of things to do that weren't in her job description: getting coffee, filing, bookkeeping. Things beneath her. Beth was smart and she knew it. She had a Masters in Mathematics, she had phenomenal SAT scores, GRE scores, IQ scores. There was a lot of evidence to prove she was intelligent. Her friends knew she was smart. She made witty remarks on girls' nights out, good puns, great jokes, jokes about politics, comments about literature. Beth was fun to have around. She made the other girls feel smart. She deserved better than this job she had. She was on the look out for a better one. This Friday night she went home, poured herself a stiff drink, turned on her favorite detective show, cursed her job momentarily and forgot about it within the hour. Saturday she slept in. Saturday night was going to make up for the week gone by. Another week in a long line of thankless, insulting, degrading weeks.

Saturday night was her best friend's bachelorette party. Jaynah was getting married to a rich corporate lawyer. He had the right clothes, the right real estate in the city, the right job, he said all the right things at family dinners. He had the right stuff. And that's what Jaynah was looking for. She wanted what was supposed to be the perfect man with whom she could decorate what was supposed to be the perfect home, with whom she could populate what was supposed to be the perfect family. Jaynah was going to be a housewife. Jaynah was quitting her thankless and insulting job because her Mr. Right made enough money.

Beth was happy for Jaynah but felt a tinge of jealousy as she performed her primping rituals for the evening. Beth chose her black smoky eye shadow and red lipstick. She chose her perfect little black dress. It was her favorite dress. She slipped on a garter skirt, vintage style, and Cuban heeled stockings. She wore Bettie Page heels with rounded toes and a slight platform. The heels were very high but Beth knew how to walk in them. She had thirteen years of ballet experience. She could walk in anything. Everything Beth wore accentuated her curvy figure, something Beth took pride in, something most men (and women) didn't appreciate.

The party was at a club downtown in the business district where well dressed professionals often went straight from work. Jaynah chose the place for its high end décor, for its extravagantly garnished drinks, and for the good looking and rich potential suitors for her friends. Beth met the girls at the club. They were all letting loose, letting it all hang out. She was ready to do so as well. She sat in between the red-headed Jaynah and Ashlynn, a very slender, girlish looking blond. Beth ordered a Manhattan. She liked the harshness of the bourbon and hoped the bartender would see fit to put two maraschino cherries in the bottom of her drink. Some Manhattans were so inferior.

After about an hour Beth noticed there was a man there. There were many men there, but there was one in particular. He noticed the girls because they were making so much noise and because a group of raucous girls was not the norm at that bar. He was across the way from their table and he bought drinks for the girls. Two rounds of sex on the beach. He was tall, had thick brown hair, was wearing a skull t-shirt, and was muscular. He seemed to be eyeing Beth lovingly. He was swallowing her whole with his eyes. Beth didn't normally get the eyes from men at clubs. She was curvier than her friends. Not fat. She had more of an hourglass figure. She had thick, wavy dark brown hair and blue eyes and Mediterranean skin. For some reason this guy took a liking to her. Her. Not the others. Not the skinny blond. Not the big breasted redhead. But to her. Beth was susceptible to the eyes because she wasn't the one to normally get the eyes. She was vulnerable because she wanted to be the beautiful one for a change.

The man watched Beth with her Manhattan and with the two rounds of drinks he sent over. Then he watched her with her girlfriends. He watched her make her witty remarks. He paid careful attention to the way she crossed and uncrossed her long legs smoothly, elegantly, as if with years of practicing that one movement, as if she knew she was being watched. The man was a good judge of character. He watched Beth toss her hair self assuredly, a rare beauty sitting amidst commonplace good looks, yet there was something else there, something beneath those confident remarks, that poised posture. Beth was shy and the man could tell. This shyness was most appealing to the man and he decided he needed to talk to her, to see more of this confident shyness, he needed a chance to work his charms on her. He needed to get her within his reach, his grasp. He too was confident with his words, with his movements, with the powers of his charms.

The man waited for the two drinks to take their effect on the women and he walked over to the girls' table. He didn't have to say, "Hi." Jaynah, blurted out all slurry, "Thank you so much for the drinks! And you are…?" The music was thumping in the background. Or in the foreground. It was so loud you could barely hear a thing.

"James," he said. "I'm an accountant."

An accountant? "And who might you be?" He directed his attention towards Beth. Beth turned her head aside.

The other girls looked at each other in surprise, or confusion, or both. No one ever paid attention to Beth. To them Beth was too 'thick,' too nerdy. Especially not likely to pay attention to Beth were muscular dark men in skull t-shirts.

"Beth," she finally answered.

"Care to have a drink? My table's right over there." He gestured towards a high seated table with one lonely drink atop it. He was alone. The girls all turned red and shooed Beth away. Beth and James shared a quick drink. He was charming. Beth was susceptible. She wanted to meet someone. She was never the one that got hit on at bars, or glanced over at the park, or flirted with in the grocery store. No one ever liked Beth.

"Beth," James said. "What do you do for a living?" James was starting her off with small talk. He liked to ease his charms onto women slowly. Start them off with something simple and then move in for the kill.

"I'm an accountant too." Beth was suspicious of James. Why was he talking to her? Why wasn't he talking to one of her more attractive friends? Beth decided to confront James.

"Why are you talking to me? I'm not the skinny blond. I'm not the chesty redhead," she challenged, leaned back in her seat and waited for him to respond, not expecting anything impressive to come out of his mouth.

"I was watching you. I was watching the way you walked to the bathroom." Beth was flattered he noticed her superior control in her high heels. "I was watching the way you crossed your legs under the table. I was watching you talk to your friends. You're smarted than they are." James had pushed all the right buttons. Beth turned her head away again. There it was. That confident shyness.

James swiftly convinced her to go home with him. The girls saw her clutch her purse on her way out, James' hand pulling at her arm. Jaynah gave her a 'thumbs up.' Another girl winked at her. Beth could barely keep up with James' pace to the door. Is this really happening to me?

When they arrived at his apartment Beth was impressed. It was impeccably designed, immaculately kept with an open floor design. He had a darkly decorated kitchen, cherry wood cabinets that had been stained cherry to give them an almost bloody appearance. His kitchen counters were dark granite and his faucet had a sleek modern design. His dining room table was off to the side of the kitchen and rustic looking, maybe made of older, salvaged wood. His couch and coffee table were in the middle of this large space. His couch was made of a deep orange leather and despite its sleek lines, looked very comfortable and inviting. The coffee table was a large animal print ottoman with a tray over it. Beth could see some steps up to a room to the right of the couch. That must be the bedroom.

He offered her another drink. She accepted and they sat on the couch together. He put his hand on her thigh. Gently at first, but then he squeezed it really hard, pressing on her curves as if swallowing her leg whole with his hand. He exhaled rather deeply, savoring the feel of her skin, her flesh. Beth sensed the power of his grip, she sensed she had no say as to what was going to happen next. He squeezed her thick thigh. He squeezed her waist, her breast; he pulled at the collar of her dress with one hand, gently pulling at the zipper on the back of her dress with the other. Beth didn't know if she should resist because James was attractive but he was pressing her, moving so fast. She felt his hot breath on her ear. He kissed her. Gently at first, kissing the outsides of her rounded lips, then softly licking them. Then he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her deeply. After a kiss like that she decided to help him with her dress.

Beth, with her dress unzipped, was pulled by James into his bedroom. He pulled off her dress and her panties but left her heels and stockings on. He left all of his clothes on. That t-shirt. He said nothing. She said nothing. He laid her down on her stomach and laid himself on top of her. She felt his weight on her. But then she noticed something: a hook on the wall, just above the pillows. It was very industrial looking and it was drilled into the wall by four sturdy screws. Beth panicked. She squirmed. She tried to get out from beneath him.

"Shhh-shhh-shhh," he said, he pulled a gag from a trunk at the foot of the bed and placed it over her mouth. "Don't worry. I'm going to take good care of you." She heard him pull more things from the trunk and felt him cuff her wrists to hooks on the wall above the pillows. Beth was paralyzed. He placed straps around her curved thighs and cuffs around her ankles. He hooked her ankles to her thighs and spread them wide open. Beth felt saliva drip down around the gag. She felt her neatly penciled in eyebrows wrinkle. Her red lipstick smeared across her face as she struggled on the bed, that gag in her mouth, clasped behind her head. How did she get into this? But he was so cute.

She felt him run his fingers through her hair. It seemed to her that his fingers were running through her hair lovingly, but she couldn't tell for sure. She was confused. He ran his fingers along her scalp, massaging it, then grasping a handful of hair and pulling her head back by it. Beth let out a moan. She got a good look at him. Even now, even when she was so terrified, she felt attracted to him. Beth always fantasized about gentlemen, men who opened doors for her, who wined and dined her, men who proposed on bended knee offering up a beautiful ring. Nothing like this. Not men who pulled her hair and tied her down and gagged her. This was freaky. But there was something loving, something caring, something appreciative in his actions. The way he touched her, he understood the beauty of her curves like other men didn't. The way he ran his fingers through her hair. The way he tied her down, it was so care-ful. Beth found herself appreciating him much in the way he appreciated her. She found herself appreciating in him what other women might not appreciate so much, this aggressive side, as he seemed to understand and value the very things she liked about herself that other men and women just didn't 'get.' He was taking good care of her.

So when he took off the ball gag Beth didn't scream. She heard herself breathing heavily. She felt herself become engorged, her skin hot, her lips swollen from the gag, her eyes attuned to his every move. He shoved something cold into her mouth. She could tell by the feel of it against her teeth, the sound, it was made of glass. He shoved it deep inside her throat, moving it in and out briefly and removing it. He replaced the gag. Beth accepted it. She felt the now warm glass thing, now covered in her saliva, run down her back and run up and down her slit and ass, as if deciding. It decided upon her ass.

Beth had never tried anal sex before. She thought it was kind of dirty. But something about this glass thing along the outside of her anus, warm, wet, was a good sensation. She relaxed. He waited for this and entered her. He squeezed her rounded ass, moving the glass thing in and out, squeezing her harder and harder and finally spanking her. Just once. Hard. Beth felt shock. She felt her heart stop. She also felt increasingly wet and she also heard James undo his zipper.

He pressed her thighs further open and pressed his cock into her now soaking wet cunt. He slid in slowly, squeezing her ass, pressing himself all the way in. He was huge. This hurt. Beth found herself liking it, liking the feeling of being stretched to her limits in so many ways. He moved in and out of her slowly. All the way in. All the way out. He was fully dressed. Beth was down to her heels, garter belt, and Cuban heeled stockings. She lay there, spread open, naked, bound, gagged, powerless, happy, taking it. He began to thrust into her more quickly, but just as deeply, bracing himself with her hips. He fucked her hard.

She could hear his breath hasten. She felt a drop of sweat on her back. Then all of a sudden he pulled himself out of her. He pushed his fingers into her, as if examining her. She knew she was gaping because he was so big. She heard his breath hasten again, but he wasn't inside of her aside from his fingers. He was masturbating. He was looking at her. He was looking at her.

He came and then left the room for what seemed like an immeasurable amount of time. Beth lay there. Immobile. Drooling a bit. He finally came back and untied her and brought her some orange juice. Beth's head was spinning. This was not what she had fantasized about, this what not what she had in mind, yet, somehow, this was exactly what she had wanted all along. Someone who liked how she looked. Someone to care for her. Someone to bring her juice.

Part Two: In Over Her Head

After Beth's evening with James Beth didn't know which way was up. Everything she thought she wanted from a man had been turned on its side. James gave her his number and they shared a prolonged kiss in his doorway. His elderly neighbor coming in with her dog glared disapprovingly at them. Beth's dress was askew, her hair was tousled.

"I'll come with you. I'll make sure you get a cab," he said. And he walked her downstairs. She opened the front door for them. Throwing his arm into the air with one swift gesture he hailed her a cab within moments and helped her in. Beth rode the cab home as if in a daze, in a daze or denial, about the evening's events.

Beth spent Sunday and the subsequent week as if in a blur. All of her activities seemed to blend into each other until the week had finally passed and it was Friday again. Beth contemplated calling James. BDSM. He was so much more experienced than she. He knew so much more about all this than she did. It was part of the power he had over her. She partly liked it. Partly. She didn't know how to talk to him about it. She didn't really know what to talk to him about at all. She didn't know anything about him, except that he liked her. He seemed to like her for her. Beth felt this duality within her. She felt she'd experienced something monumental, something life altering. And for that, she felt experienced. She felt she had learned more than most women had in a lifetime but at the same time she felt the power James had over her. He was still her Dominant superior. He knew more about her than she knew about him, he certainly knew more about BDSM than she, and she had the sense he knew more about their relationship than she. But that middle part, that BDSM part, it taunted Beth. Beth hungered to know more and she was shamed to learn it from James. She felt that although that weakness in her made his power play so much more seductive, she didn't want to reveal it to him. A part of her was still "normal." A part of her had not fully submitted to him and yearned to learn more outside of James' control.

So come Friday Beth had a plan. She slipped into those same super high heels. She put on that smoky eye shadow and rummaged through her lipsticks for the perfect red until she found it. It was called "ladybug," appropriately so because it made her lips look like two rounded wings of a red lady bug, slightly parted in the middle. She wore a short skirt and a halter top. No stockings this evening. No panties. Her destination: Club Controversio, a BDSM club. It was located in the warehouse district. She wasn't going with any girlfriends tonight. Beth didn't think her friends had the capacity to understand what she was going through, her transformation. This was going to be strictly educational. How dangerous it was for a lovely young woman, dressed as she was and going alone, to a BDSM club in the warehouse district never crossed her mind.

Beth took a taxi. The club was located at the intersection of two alleyways. The taxi wouldn't go down the alleyway. Beth had to walk. In her heels. She'd never thought of it before, but Beth had been restraining herself every time she wore those heels. They were a form of bondage. Her strides were short; the walk to the club from the taxi was long. With nothing but the sound of her heels clicking on the uneven pavement Beth pondered her self-restraint. She then pondered how slowly she had to walk, her inability to run, and finally the danger of the whole situation crossed her mind. She tried to walk more quickly without sacrificing the coolness of her stride.

When she finally entered the club her hair was a little wind blown and her cheeks and thighs were red from the cold night air. An indifferent black woman with stick straight, honey brown hair tied up into a tight ponytail took her coat and directed her to the bar. Beth walked past several rooms on the way to the bar. The rooms were set apart by long blackish purple velvet curtains that hung floor to ceiling, and in each room was acted out a different scene. In one room a totally naked woman stood stretched out by chains and was flogged by a man dressed all in black, wearing a black mask. In another room a man stood with his pants around his ankles, bent over a bench, restrained by wrists and ankles, and was paddled by a woman in a most impressive latex costume. In another room a woman, totally naked except for the collar around her neck sat on her feet with her hands tied behind her and the most elaborate rope tying her breasts and sex. She pleasured a man also dressed all in black. Each room had spectators. Beth could see there were more rooms around the corner but she already knew to which room she would go.

She had the sense she was cheating on James, not because they were an exclusive couple, but because his superior knowledge over her was a part of his power over her and she was, in a sense, going behind his back and obtaining more knowledge. This was both exciting and saddening for Beth. She went to the bar and ordered a Manhattan. And then another. No one spoke to her while she sat at the bar. Everyone at the club was self-absorbed. After her drinks had taken their effect Beth walked seductively, the way she knew how, over to the room she had chosen earlier in the evening, the one with the woman and the paddle.

Currently, there was another woman restrained over the bench there. She was wearing a skirted beige business suit with a conservative 1940's style blouse, as if there right after work, like a business man might go to a strip club. The woman with the paddle had administered a most formidable spanking, as made evident by the redness in the business woman's ass, the runny mascara on her face, and the fatigue in her posture.