This story is my entry for the 2014 Valentine's Day Story Contest so, if you like it, please remember to vote! I also greatly appreciate any and all comments and feedback, and hope everyone has a great Valentine's Day!
Eric and Daphne pulled into the underground parking lot and he knew she was watching him as he circled deeper and deeper, until he reached his stall.
He backed his black Saturn Sky into his parking space and the thumping beat from the speakers died as he killed the ignition.
In the silence, before he could unbuckle his seatbelt, he felt Daphne's hand on his leg.
"I really appreciate you driving me home from work every night," she said.
Eric looked down at her hand and then met her eyes, knowing he'd see the same look of longing he always saw there. "Daph, we live in the same apartment building. I keep telling you, it's no trouble."
"I just wish you'd let me pay you back by giving you money for gas...or something."
As she slowly stroked his thigh, he said, "I don't need anything, just having your company for the drive home is enough."
"Well, why don't you let me pay you back by taking you out to dinner...maybe this Saturday?"
Eric raised an eyebrow. "Isn't next Saturday Valentine's Day?"
Daphne blushed and squeezed his thigh. "It doesn't mean anything, it's just a Saturday to me. I'll make the reservations, and we can -- "
"Daph, I've told you I just want to be -- "
"Don't say it," she said, pushing her fingers against his lips. "You drive me crazy every time you say you just want to be friends. Why can't we be more than friends?"
Eric felt her other hand sliding up his thigh, and she rubbed her palm across his crotch; her fingers wrapped around and squeezed his half-hard cock when she felt it through his pants.
"Whoa!" he said, pulling her hand away from his quickly stiffening shaft. "Daph, I mean it, I just want us to be friends. Can't you accept that?"
"Yes, of course, friends..." But Daphne wanted to be more than friends. If she had her way, Eric's pants would've been around his ankles with her head bobbing up and down in his lap.
Ever since she'd met him when he'd moved in nearly a year ago she'd been infatuated with him, but he just wasn't interested in her. And Daphne couldn't understand that; every boy she'd ever met had been interested in her.
But no matter how many times she'd tried, Eric had resisted every move, every seduction, and always kept the buffer of friendship between them.
"If you really want to take someone out on Valentine's Day, why don't you ask Saul?" he said.
"Saul? Saul from work? He's nice I guess, but -- "
"He's crazy about you, give him a chance."
"You won't give me a chance..."
Eric reached over and put his hand just above Daphne's breast, near her heart. "I mean give him a chance here, not in bed, and I think you'll be surprised."
Daphne trembled beneath Eric's touch; she didn't know why it drove her so crazy. "Okay," she whispered, reaching up to hold his hand in place. "I'll give him a chance. But if it doesn't work out...you owe me."
* * *
Daphne returned to her apartment and Eric returned to his, a small bachelor suite on the nineteenth floor.
For the price he paid, the apartment was painfully small. But what Eric was paying for was the view. From here he could look down on the city as if from the heavens. At night it looked like a sea of lights, with lives crisscrossing back and forth below him.
As he held his hand up to the window, feeling the cool night air on the other side, he caught his reflection in the glass. He'd love to have given Daphne a chance. She was the most beautiful girl he knew, with an amazing body and a touch that was electric.
When they'd got off the elevator Eric knew that she'd glanced down at the bulge in the front of his pants, and knew he was still stiff from her touch in the front seat of his car.
But how could he explain to her that when he dreamed he didn't dream of her, he dreamed of pain.
And now that he sat at his desk, looking at his laptop, his cock was hard again. But this time it wasn't from Daphne; it was from the black and white images sliding across the screen.
Images of women bound with ropes, twisted into every possible position, gagged and blindfolded as they submitted to their masters, and let them use their bodies for their pleasure.
Eric was sure that if he told Daphne his secret she'd eagerly submit to him, letting him bind and dominate her, using her body in any way he could imagine.
But he wasn't sure if that was what he really wanted. When he dreamed of pain, he dreamed of his own pain. And wondered what it would feel like to be bound, to be at the mercy of another. Never knowing if they would give you punishment or pleasure.
He was determined to make a date with a dominatrix, wanted to learn the art of submission...and pain...from an expert. And he'd been googling ads looking for one nearby that could fulfill his needs.
Images of men bound, their bodies being teased by beautiful latex-clad mistresses...being punished beneath their high heels and whips. These were the images that filled his head as he undressed, neatly folding his clothes before he crawled naked into his bed.
Sleep came swiftly and Eric dreamed, but tonight the dream was different.
There was a storm outside and he could hear the rain beating against his window, but above it he heard a dreamy voice singing, calling to him like a siren.
Eric sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes, trying to cast off the shackles of sleep. Like a prisoner he rose from his bed and was pulled toward the siren's song.
Was it coming through the walls? He didn't feel like he was asleep, he felt like he was awake and the music was coming from the apartment next door.
But the song was too beautiful, too dreamlike, as if it came from another world. And now he heard more than one voice singing.
The sirens' call pulled him to the wall of his apartment, and he saw himself standing naked in the full-length mirror.
The sweet sound seemed to be coming from beyond the mirror. Eric stepped forward and in the semi-darkness banged against a small end table.
As he struck the table it thumped against the wall, and the face of the mirror rippled like a pool of water.
Eric reached forward to touch the glass and his fingers dipped through the cool surface, sending rings like water on a pond rolling across his reflection.
Now he knew he knew he was dreaming, and as he stepped through the mirror he heard the sirens' song even clearer.
Beyond the mirror there was only darkness, with an infinite amount of pinpricks of light shining in the dark like stars. He felt like he was afloat on a shipless ocean with the night sky all around him.
The sirens' song called him toward one of the stars and he glided toward it, as if carried by wings.
But then he heard another voice, a second siren calling dreamily to him from the beyond.
Eric stopped, torn between the dream sirens. The first ones called to him, begging him to come to their Mistress, while the second siren sang of love, and her search for it.
Something flew toward him out of the darkness -- a butterfly. It flitted about Eric's head and tried to get him to follow, to lead him toward the dreamy voice of the second siren.
But the other sirens' voices grew even stronger, and their song, though irresistibly sweet, was no less sad than sweet, and lapped Eric's body and soul with a fatal lethargy.
And as their song carried him toward them, he looked back as the butterfly and his keeper's siren song faded into the darkness.
Eric saw the pinprick of light he was being drawn irresistibly toward grow into a portal, and as he went through it he stepped out of a mirror into a chamber.
He had no idea how he knew it was a chamber, as the walls couldn't be seen, but as the sirens' song faded, their prey successfully lured across the sea of night, he knew he was being watched.
"Hello?" Eric said.
As if in answer, a blonde-haired woman stepped forward from the darkness. Eric's eyes drank in every inch of her -- the dominatrix of his dreams.
She was wearing a tight, black leather corset dress that barely contained her full, perfect breasts and was high enough to reveal her matching leather panties. Black glovelets were wrapped around her wrists, and a pair of black high-heeled leather boots stretched up mid-thigh, completing her outfit.
Eric could see the soft skin between her boots and panties was pale white, as if it rarely saw the sun, and as his eyes drifted up her body, savoring every inch, he spotted a silver collar around the pale skin of her neck.
If her body had fulfilled every one of his fantasies, her face shattered them. He had never seen anyone so beautiful...her beauty was otherworldly. Her perfect, heart-shaped face was framed by long, silky blonde hair that cascaded across her shoulders from twin ponytails that rose from the top of her head like horns.
But as Eric watched her, she wasn't watching him. She looked over her outfit as if it was the first time she'd ever seen it, and when she finally looked up at Eric, standing there in his nakedness, her eyes saw through him and she smiled wickedly.
The dominatrix turned her palms face up and lifted them, and the walls were revealed around her in the form of a dungeon, complete with every instrument of punishment Eric had fantasized about.
She turned to examine them, running her fingers curiously along their lengths, and Eric could see the back of her dress was open and laced together so that he had a full view of her flawless ass.
Her fingers drifted over the different whips, floggers and paddles hanging from the wall and she glanced back at him, as if trying to decide how she should punish him first.
"Who are you?" said Eric.
She didn't speak but, as if in answer, he heard the sirens' voices whisper: "We seek her, but she is lost to the shadows..."
The voices were all around Eric, as he said, "Who? Who is lost?"
He went to walk toward the dominatrix and nearly stumbled as something pulled at his foot. Looking down, he saw that both of his legs were shackled to the floor.
He reached down to try and free himself, but invisible hands grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms painfully up and above his head, binding him to the Saint Andrew's Cross that had appeared behind him.
He struggled against his bindings as the dark dominatrix strutted toward him, a black and red flogger in her hands. She reached her fingers up to touch her silver collar and it vanished, reappearing around Eric's neck, its weight cool against his skin.
Eric knew he was in a dream but, as he felt the bindings cutting into his flesh, the pain felt so real.
Suddenly she was right in front of him, so close that he could feel the unnatural heat of her body in the cold chamber.
Her hand caressed his smooth, well-muscled chest and she brushed her fingers lightly against his nipples, exploring his body. She pressed her cheek against his and sighed, as if she'd gone ages without knowing the touch of flesh.
Sliding her right hand across his taut stomach and down across his groin, she dragged her long fingernails across his swollen erection.
She smiled at him and dragged the tip of her tongue across her lip in anticipation. Stepping back, she held up the flogger, testing its weight in her hand.
Eric felt a faint flicker of fear. "What are you going to -- "
She reached out and twisted his nipple hard, silencing him with a scream of pain.
Eric had dreamed of pain before, but never anything like this. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as she drew back the flogger and whipped it forward.
Eric tensed for the blow but the first strike of the soft leather tips flicked almost painlessly across his skin. He let out his breath, but caught it again when she struck a second blow, just a little bit harder.
She gave him a naughty, knowing smile as she whipped the flogger back and forth across his skin. Starting at his chest, she struck him over and over, each stroke harder, each stroke lower.
He could feel the pain now, intensifying as the tails of the flogger inched down toward his crotch. As a blow sent stings of pain arcing across his abdomen he started to grow afraid.
How was it going to feel when she struck lower with the flogger? His abdomen was strong enough to take the blow, but his cock and balls were so tender, so sensitive. How would it feel when those leather tails curled beneath him and bit into his soft flesh?
She was inches away from his cock, which hung heavily down between his spread legs, and Eric clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to wake from the dream...from the nightmare.
He heard the flogger as it whistled toward him, and he screamed as the tails cut painfully into the soft flesh of his ass.
Eric opened his eyes in shock and realized he'd somehow been turned around, and was now facing the cross; his mystery mistress was behind him, twisting the flogger for another blow.
As it cut into him again, Eric cried out: "No! I can't take any more...please...Mistress."
She already had her arm back, aiming a third stroke, but she stopped and dropped the flogger to the stone floor.
She stepped close to him and pressed her body against him from behind, the cool leather of her dress soothing against the raw skin of his well-whipped ass.
Reaching her hand around, she found that his cock was completely erect. She sighed as she wrapped her fingers around it and started to stroke it.
Eric moaned as she pumped his shaft, and felt his balls tightening as she jacked her hand back and forth, faster and faster. He knew he was about to come, and groaned as he closed his eyes, ready for release.
Suddenly he was free, his bindings and the cross were gone and he slumped to the floor, his cock painfully erect and throbbing. His Mistress stood above him, giving him a look that let him know he wasn't allowed to come -- yet.
Eric sat on the floor, dizzy and trying to catch his breath, when somewhere in the distance, beyond the mirror, he heard the other dream siren calling, looking for him.
Before he could look toward the mirror his dark Mistress grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at her. Smiling, she held out her other hand and offered him a pomegranate.
Eric felt hungrier than he'd felt in his life. He tore through the skin with his teeth, tearing off a jagged piece of flesh so he could see the sweet seeds beneath.
He was about to eat but hesitated, and held out the opened pomegranate toward his Mistress, offering her the first taste.
She smiled sweetly at his offer, shaking her head no as she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. On the soft pink flesh, six pomegranate seeds glowed like rubies.
She grabbed his hair and wrenched him close so that her mouth was right by his ear, and hissed, "Neverborn!"
* * *
Eric bolted upright in his bed, the word echoing through his head. Neverborn...never born...never borne. He could still feel the sting of her lash, the pain of her touch.
His heart was pounding through his chest and he was soaked in sweat. He kicked off his blankets, trying to cool himself down, and fell back on his pillow.
Eric had dreamed of domination before, but never anything like that. The pain had felt so...true.
He looked at his alarm clock and saw the time was three thirty four.
He needed more sleep and closed his eyes, still not sure if he'd had a dream or a nightmare.
Eric knew he was starting to dream again when he heard the faint song of his dream siren, telling him to wake from the dream.
And then he opened his eyes; he was still in his bed. But in the darkness he could see a shadow...a silhouette...someone or something was crouching at the foot of his bed.
Eric felt panic crawling over him as he tried to sit up, tried to reach for the light, but it was as if invisible arms were pinning him to his bed.
He freed an arm and reached out in the darkness, a weight on him as he struggled for the light switch. And then he felt something seize his arm. Blind panic tore through him as he tried to pull away, and it tried to pull him off the bed, into the darkness.
Eric awoke screaming; it had only been a nightmare. But then he felt it -- something was still holding his hand.
He yanked it away and scrambled back across his bed as he fumbled for the light switch.
When he turned it on he saw her, a dark-haired girl kneeling beside his bed.
"Who the fuck are you?" said Eric. "How did you get in my apartment?"
She grabbed his leg to try to calm him down. "Don't be afraid. I'm here to serve you, Master."
Eric jerked his leg away and blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the light. The girl was stunningly beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than the dominatrix of his dreams, and he realized she wasn't a girl -- she was a woman.
She wore a small, dark top made of black feathers that barely covered her large, full breasts, which were out of proportion to her small frame. And as she kneeled, he saw the only other thing she wore was a tiny pair of black silk panties.
When she saw him admiring her, and felt his gaze sliding across her soft, exposed skin, she swept her long, black hair back over her shoulder so he could see her breasts better.
Eric looked into her dark, shining eyes and saw the look of longing, the same look Daphne had.
"What do you mean...you've come to serve me?"
"Exactly that. I want to serve you as a slave, with you as my Master."
Eric had e-mailed and chatted online with others interested in the BDSM lifestyle, and wondered if she was one of them, if she'd somehow learned where he lived.
He followed her gaze to between his legs and, realizing he was completely naked, yanked the sheets up.
"How did you get in my apartment? And what are you doing here at three thirty in the morning?"
"Anything you want me to, Master." She laid her hands palms up on her thighs and thrust her breasts forward.
"No, I mean -- "
They both started when the light unexpectedly went out, and they were both illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights outside the window. The rain was still beating down, but above it they heard the soft song of the sirens, searching for him, calling him back to his dark mistress.
The girl's dark eyes went wide with fear, as she looked to the mirror and then back to Eric. "Don't listen, Master. Don't go to her, I can give you what you need."
Eric started to sit up and she quickly climbed on to the bed and straddled him, pinning him down with her weight. He could feel her heat pressing against his hardness through the thin sheet.
The warmth of her body felt amazing as she lowered herself against him, but he felt himself falling away from her.
Eric felt as if his soul had left his body and was being carried toward the sirens by their song. "Get off me, slave," he said, in an empty voice, and she had no choice but to obey.
He stood up and she saw he was under their spell...under her spell. She had to do something, so she sang.
As soon as Eric heard the enchanting sound he stopped and looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time; the girl couldn't have been much older than twenty, but her voice was timeless.
The sirens' spell broken, Eric realized he knew whom she was, the second siren who'd called to him in his dream.
She smiled and a tear ran down her cheek as she sang, and saw the recognition in his eyes. She held out a closed hand to her Master and, as he gently pried her fingers back, a butterfly flew free and circled him.
But the song from the mirror grew stronger, and beckoned him again, and no matter how passionately she sang he couldn't resist it. He stepped toward the mirror and she grabbed his hand, trying to pull him back from the darkness.