Gating: A Woman's View

It had always been easy for her. Men were so one-minded. They were so simple. This was not some great hidden secret either. All her girlfriends knew it. Some openly talked about it. Men were animals. All a girl had to do was flash her sexuality in front of some poor male.

Take this current one. She did enjoy their times together. After all, he was romantic and flirtatious. When she dangled the golden prize just out of his reach, he responded. He did not even care that she dated others. Men were such animals.

Then she got the email. She received it in the middle of the day at work. She remembered thinking how charming he was. Obviously, he was smitten. It started so sweetly.

"Flower..."

She was jolted. At first, she was scared. Then her anger washed all awareness of fear from her.

"How dare he? My GOD he was sick! He was worst than sick. The words he used were filthy and degrading. He should be locked up; caged like the beast he was."

She had obviously misread him. Now her nerves were alive in anger, in fear, in emotion. She emailed him back. Not the depraved email he commanded her to send. He was an asshole to prey on women like this. He was a vampire. He was no better than a rabid dog and she vehemently told him so. She forbade him from ever contacting her again. Feeling justified she sent it off. All she had to do was wait for the return receipt to indicate when he had read it.

The next day she received the message, "Email deleted without being read." Now she was enraged. Unable to help herself; not caring who was near, she called him. He did not answer. However, the loud, rambling, tirade of a message she left calmed her down enough to make it through the rest of the day.

Three days later, he still had not contacted her. He was an asshole. That was his problem. He was an asshole who was scared to talk to her. She drove by his house. She drove by not once, not twice, but several times, she found herself diverting to his neighborhood. HE WAS SUCH AN ASSHOLE.

The idea wormed into her head. Send him the silly email. It won't mean anything. It will simply bring him back to her. When they meet next, she would make him pay. She chewed on it. It was such a delicious idea. On the seventh day, she sent him an email with only the following title:

"I am your slave girl; a cunt who is a slut to your desires, a bitch who doesn't deserve your attention and I beg you to take me as your whore."

Of course, he responded. Men really were simple creatures. He wanted to see her. He wanted to meet at the mall early Sunday morning. It was closed until noon on Sundays. However, the doors were unlocked to accommodate the latest health fad among the older set. Often you would see one or two couples; exercising safely away from the elements; speed walking past mannequins imprisoned behind chained, drop down doors. There was something eerie about it all. She put on sweats and left her panties at home. Perhaps she would make him give her head. She deserved it for the last week.

Entering, she saw him across the way. He was partially in a side hallway that led to the restrooms. Her heart raced as she marched towards him. Drawing close, she was stunned when he grabbed her hair -- twisting it, hurting her as he hungrily pulled her mouth to his. She screamed as his teeth snarled down into her lower lip. Shocking her chaotic mind further, she tasted blood even as her heightened senses heard a distinctly metallic "click. He had snapped a collar around her neck.

She silently shouted in terror.

"What the fuck was happening here?"

His hands riding up the attached leash to the collar; he jerked her roughly to the floor. She was aware of his scent; his maleness, even as she realized he had not said one word to her. He yanked her behind him. She found herself crawling on all fours; frantically trying to keep up. At the same time, her mind raced looking for an escape. Her heart pounded. There were people around. Weren't there people around? Where were the people? Why didn't she scream?

He pulled her around the corner and then rasped into her hair.

"Hello cunt."

She had an orgasm.

"This was impossible!"

Her rational intellect shrieked in rebellion. She looked up and he had a faint smile on his face.

"I am the Gatekeeper. From now on you will not orgasm without my permission."

Then he slapped her. Her face burning, she started whimpering.

"You are my bitch-in-heat, my dog whore. Learn what that means."

Her head lowered; crying; she heard a scraping sound along the floor. She was scared to look, so when the filled dog bowl was pushed under her view, she lost control.

"Eat bitch."

As she lowered her face to the bowl, her hips naturally rose behind her. She felt her sweats ripped and knew that her ass, no panties, was exposed to him. As he ran the leather dog leash over her throbbing clit and between her wet engorged cunt lips, a thought filled her awareness.

"I am his, craving, heated, aroused like a whore, I am his."

It really was simple. Women were such animals.