Invitations

Are you ready for an adventure?

Bethany read the words again. The text message was simple enough. It was the one he used whenever inviting her to let him control the evening, to submit to him. She had done it several times before, and she trusted him to give her an experience to remember. And enjoy.

It wouldn't necessarily be safe. Well, it would be physically safe. Probably. But the whole point of the adventures was to drag Bethany out of her comfort zone. To make her try new things. To excite and arouse her and, if she was lucky, to get her off. But it wouldn't be straight forward.

Devon always masked the end of the game so that Bethany didn't know what was coming until it was too late to back out, whether due to circumstance or restraints. Once she started down the path of an adventure, she would have to finish whatever he had planned. She had to decide if she was ready for that.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face and read the text again. Biting her lip, she typed a reply.

—Yes.—

Her heart raced as she pressed send. What would it be this time? Would he send her to the sex shop to buy another toy? Would he want pictures of her pantyless under her dress at the grocery store? She had already done these things and doubted it would be something so pedestrian so late. It was well after dark in the summer. She crossed her legs in her desk chair and squeezed enough to tease just a little arousal. She imagined the last adventure, sitting naked in Devon's passenger seat on the way home from dinner. She was sure one car they had passed had seen more than she wanted them to, but the risk had excited her, and the reward in bed that night had been spectacular.

Her breath hitched when the phone buzzed. With trepidation she reached for it. The message preview showed only one line, but it was enough.

—Drive to me. Now.—

So simple. So mysterious. She considered what she was wearing — loose pants and looser nightshirt, her lying around the house clothes — but he had said now. He expected her to come as she was. She hoped the summer night was warm enough to keep her from shivering.

She looked at the clock as she shut off her monitor and stood. 11:08pm. She wondered what would have happened had she already been in bed.

Grabbing her car keys and her phone, her ID and a credit card were tucked in the case, she slipped on a pair of shoes, and went to her car. As she started the engine, she texted a reply.

—On my way.—

She put the car in reverse, but before she could start moving, her phone buzzed.

—Park on the driveway next to my truck. Text when you arrive.—

Bethany's mind raced trying to imagine what he had planned. She hesitated. If she was expected to hop into his car to go somewhere else, she would be under dressed. She hunched her shoulders slightly, but still her nipples poked at the front of the shirt. She was indecent, and shouldn't be seen in public. But a tingle between her legs told her she might not mind.

She turned onto Devon's street and it struck her how late it was. And dark. Porch lights along the suburban street were absent. Only a single distant streetlight shown in the neighborhood. Even Devon's houselights were out, which Bethany thought unusual since he was expecting her. She panicked for a moment thinking she had missed direction elsewhere. But she hadn't. He had said to come here.

She pulled into the driveway as directed, stopping next to his Explorer. A shift of the transmission and a flick of the keys and her car was off. Silence settled around her, heightening the hesitation and wonder at what might lie ahead. She took a breath and woke her phone.

—I'm here.—

—Drop your keys in my car window and get in your passenger seat.—

The reply came so quickly, she knew he had had it queued up to send. He's waiting for me, she thought, pleased.

She looked over and, for the first time, noticed a small red light in the darkness of his Explorer. Puzzled, she was distracted from her trepidation just enough to comply with his instructions without thought. She approached the driver side of the vehicle to find the window down about two inches. Just enough to drop her keys through, but not enough to retrieve them. She tried the handle to find his car locked, as she suspected. Once the keys dropped, she would be at his mercy to give them back. Reaching up, she remembered the red light and found the lens of a camera looking back at her, the small indicator telling her it was recording.

Or transmitting.

She couldn't help a coy smile as she alluringly, she hoped, reached up and dropped her keys through the crack. With a little wink, she reached behind her, never taking her eyes off the camera. She opened her passenger door and slid inside.

She had guessed correctly. No sooner had her door closed than her phone buzzed again. And again. And a third and fourth time before she had woken it to view the messages.

The instructions.

Bethany's heart raced. The corners of her mouth pulled up, and then down, as she absorbed the information on the screen.

She put her phone on the dash in front of her and looked around. Not seeing anyone, she braced her feet, lifted herself off the seat, and slid her sweats and panties over her hips and down her thighs. She let out a little gasp when her bare bottom made contact with the car seat. She had not been sitting there long enough to sufficiently warm the leather surface but, like jumping into a pool, it took but a moment to acclimate. She bent forward, awkwardly removing her shoes with her pants binding her legs together at the knees. Her belly fluttered thinking the restriction might be a hint to her body of what was to come.

Free of her shoes, she pushed the pants the rest of the way off, leaving them in a pile in the footwell. Only when she had straightened up did she remember the camera recording her every move with enough of a high angle to perhaps see her bare thighs. She smiled toward the glowing red dot, then checked and rechecked every window she could see in the neighborhood, searching for any sign of life that might prompt her to abort. But her only option other than following the instructions was to safe out and ask for her keys, something she really didn't want to do.

Steeling her resolve, her eyes constantly scanning neighboring windows, she pulled one arm then the other in from her sleeves. Brushing both against her puckered nipples under her shirt, it struck her that it wasn't cool enough to cause such a state. She smiled, hugging herself for a moment, then pushed the shirt up to her neck and over her head. She clutched it for a few last moments in front of her breasts before practically throwing it onto the pile at her feet lest she change her mind. She fumbled for the door catch and pulled.

The interior lights of the car came on, temporarily blinding her. In a panic, she jumped out of the car, closing it a little more loudly than intended. Though the evening was warm, the breeze was cool on her bare skin, a constant reminder she was naked. She squatted, using her car on one side, and Devon's SUV on the other to block any spectators she might have missed. Directly across the street stood the one house she couldn't hide from, and she wondered if any late night wanderers might be hidden behind its darkened windows.

She watched for several moments before deciding there was no movement. No unexpected — she couldn't quite call them unwanted — witnesses to her adventure. She peaked over the door and through the window into her car, spotting one of the two things she forgot in her haste. She yanked the door open, reached in to grab her phone off the dash, pushed the power lock button, and closed the door again before anyone could notice the second flash of interior lights.

It wasn't until the mechanical clenching of the door mechanism that the depth of her precarious state fully registered. She was squatting, naked, on a driveway in the middle of an upper middle-class suburb. A shiver of thrill rippled through her, involuntarily and suggestively arching her spine and nearly making her topple over. With her left arm against her car for stability, she couldn't help it as the fingers of her right glided over her hard nipple, down her belly to her shaved mound and beyond. The touch sent waves of pleasure through her, heightening her anticipation of whatever Devon had in store for her.

But she couldn't. Not yet. She didn't have permission. She pulled her hand away, resisting the urge, and wiped the moisture on her thigh. It was time to move. She would never actually get to Devon if she stayed hunkered down between the cars. She took a deep, calming breath that had little of the intended effect, stood, and trotted around the front of the car to the side of the garage. Only when she was past the threshold of the alley between houses did she stop to look back.

The landscaping rocks along the sides of the houses were sharp and jagged on her bare feet — more so than their daylight appearance had led her to believe — which left her stuck in the open between the buildings, unable to use either for cover. She kept moving toward the back of the house, worried now only about the wooded ravine in front of her and the neighbors to the left. One window on the second floor contained a light, but the others were dark. Both bore risk, though a lit room less so than a darkened one. Sure, someone was awake, but their vision wouldn't be able to penetrate the darkness between the houses.

She jumped, startled by the buzzing in her hand. Another message from Devon, now that she was out of his camera view. She looked at it, sheepishly biting her lip as she read through the next set of instructions. It would be a big step. More risk. Though she trusted Devon, she would have no recourse if something went wrong.

Creeping forward, she let her eyes adjust after the bright screen of her phone. She glanced up, wondering if the occupants of the lit room might have noticed, and then to the street, including every dark window in her appraisal. Her pulse raced with the prospect of being seen. Perhaps caught. What might someone do with her in her current state? She hastened her step swearing at twigs and uncomfortable clods of dirt as she made her way to the landing.

A flight of wooden stairs led up to the deck. Several of them creaked under her meager weight. They wouldn't last more than a couple of years before needing to be replaced, she thought. At the top of the stairs, she froze in a crouch. The sliding glass door leading from the lower deck into Devon's living room was right in front of her. But the drapes were closed, glowing only dimly from a small light within. She could detect no movement in the shadows. She had no idea where Devon was, though she assumed he was in his home office watching the feed from the camera. Or cameras, if she had to guess. She scanned the area for such devices but didn't see any.

Careful to avoid any enjoyment-ruining slivers, she padded across the lower deck and climbed the four steps to the upper. Here the window and sliding glass door looked into the kitchen dining area. They were slightly better lit than the livingroom, but no more occupied. She searched through the glass to glean some hint of later plans but found nothing. Looking to the left, out onto the deck proper, her heart skipped at identifying the implements of her kink.

There was a rectangular metal table with a glass top heavy enough to require two people to comfortably move. Usually in the middle, it was pushed against the railing. Chairs were shoved to the side as well, leaving an open space before the glass door. Snaking out from the substantial table was a length of chain. Under the table, in the glow of the dim kitchen light, she could make out a padlock anchoring the chain. On the other end of the chain, a pair of handcuffs. Resting atop the cuffs was a wide piece of shaped leather with a strap to hold it comfortably over her eyes.

Bethany shivered. This was almost too much.

Almost.

She glanced into the woods, into the kitchen, and back toward the no longer visible lit neighbor's room. Seeing nothing that would allow her to abort, she took the three steps toward Devon's preparations, turned toward the kitchen door, and knelt at the end of the chain. She spread her knees as wide as she could into the expected position of submission. Normally she would lay her hands on her thighs, or more often clasp them behind her head. This time, however, she reached behind her and picked up the blindfold, ensuring she could find the cuffs once it was on.

Pulling the soft leather over her eyes, she attempted another breath to counter the rapidly thumping heartbeat in her ears. It was even less effective than the last time. With her vision removed, she could only imagine what was to come. And the risk that someone unexpected may find her. The pounding increased as she searched her memory, thinking about the objects around her. Which of them might make noise. Which she might use to defend herself. Or free herself. Or throw against the glass to alert Devon.

Mustering her last bit of resolve, she reached behind her, found the cuffs, and secured them around her wrists. With the final ratcheting of the closure echoing in her mind, her senses were consumed by the sound of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the hooting of a distant owl. The world around her came alive in the moment she was completely at its mercy.

# # #

Mariah

—Would you like to go on an adventure?—

Mariah looked at the text message. Devon. She had known him most of her adult life and he was a trusted friend. However, recently, during one of their late-night chat sessions, she had learned they had yet one more thing in common. BDSM. Pandora's box had been opened and they would both have to live with the consequences.

She wasn't exactly sure how it came up. All she remembered was, in a slightly inebriated state, their conversation had drifted to porn. Neither were naive and the discussion wasn't at all judgmental. If she recalled correctly, they had started talking about eCommerce and how the porn industry, in many ways, led the way from a broader digital economy. It figured that horny men, and women, had been driven to find ways of giving away their money in order to see one another naked and in the throes of passion. It was after perhaps one too many drinks that Mariah had confided in Devon her interest in the kinkier side of the internet.

It didn't seem like much of a revelation, and Devon took it in stride. But through a series of questions, Mariah had shared more than she had intended to. What she liked. What toys she had. She shared, but learned new things about Devon, too. While she was more of a bi-curious bottom, she was also a little top-curious. Devon, on the other hand, was more of a top who occasionally entertained trying the other side. "Maybe someday we'll go on a little adventure together," he had eventually suggested.

Possibilities teased Mariah's subconscious, but they didn't discuss any details on that fateful night. After realizing what had come to light, each walked back their position, feigning distant curiosity instead of earnest interest, and it didn't take long for the subject to turn to something more benign.

That was a week ago.

Since then, they had chatted several times on line, and met up socially with a group of friends over dinner. Among them was Bethany, who was either Devon's girlfriend or his friend with benefits — she couldn't decide which, though she didn't pry and didn't judge. But through the several interactions with him, the subject of porn and sex hadn't resurfaced.

Until now.

Go on an adventure, she repeated to herself.

She wasn't certain he was referring to a sexual encounter, but there had been plenty flirting and sexual tension throughout their relationship that Mariah was fairly confident it's what he meant. The question was . . . did she want to? Would their friendship survive such an encounter? She thought it would, but the risk gave her pause. It also occurred to her that there probably wasn't anyone she trusted more with which to explore her fascination in the subject of BDSM. She knew he would keep her safe, whatever they did. And who knows? Maybe it was exactly what her life needed. She sent a non-committal response.

—Maybe?—

She stared at the phone. The anticipation that built waiting for his reply told her what her answer should have been. And when several minutes went by without a response, she changed her answer.

—Sure.—

—You won't regret it.—

She almost jumped with the promptness of those four words. Wondering what came next, she was in the middle of composing her questions when her phone buzzed again in her hands.

—Find that favorite buttplug you told me about, put it in, and drive to my house.—

Whoa! she thought. That escalated quickly. But it didn't really surprise her, not when she thought about it. The whole point of the adventure was letting him take control.

—Time your arrival for exactly 11:15. Do not be early. Do not be late. Text me when you're here.—

Mariah looked at her watch. It was 10:38. She didn't have much time.

She hopped up with more enthusiasm than she expected and went to retrieve the requested item. She wondered if she had time to clean up at all, but a glance at the clock on her nightstand suggested otherwise.

Opening her small chest of toys, she dug past the fur-lined cuffs she had only worn once by herself, the one vibrator, and the other dildo, and found the small cloth pouch she was looking for. Taking the bottle of lube with her, she retreated to her bed where she sat and extracted from the pouch a smooth glass conical object with a flared base. It wasn't too big, but the rare occasion she had worn it shopping, she had had to cut her trip short to deal with the distracting stimulation it had provided.

Dropping her pants and laying back on the bed, she lubricated the plug and pushed. In and out, she slowly made progress until, finally, the widest point passed her sphincter and was sucked into place. Suddenly in the mood, she traced a finger through her nether lips, but a glance at her nightstand made her heart skip. 10:58. Now she had to hurry.

Barely remembering to lock the front door on her way out, she made it to Devon's neighborhood with a couple minutes to spare. She stalled, remembering his instructions to not be early, and rolled to a stop on his driveway behind his Explorer at exactly 11:15. With a satisfied smile on her face and the constant reminder in her rear of why she was here, she texted her arrival. Moments later, her eyes widened as she read the lengthy reply.

—You have a choice. If you're ready to jump into this adventure with both feet, I want you to take off your clothes and walk to the front door. If you're not ready for that, you may keep your clothes for now, but still come to the front door. You will see a pair of handcuffs hanging there. Lock them on your wrists and ring the bell.—

It was the moment of truth. How badly did she want to explore this new side of her relationship with Devon? She noted the implication that choosing to keep her clothes would be temporary, at best. Looking around the neighborhood, she found almost no lights on. It was late and the houses were all dark leaving but a single street light in the distance against the darkness of night.

Mariah determined the likelihood of being seen was minimal, and the reward of the adventure was high. She bit her lip and, as she debated pros and cons with herself, discovered her hands, of their own volition, had moved to the buckle of her belt. She paused, looking down in disbelief. Was she really ready for this? Both feet into a world she had only imagined?