The Key to Me

The Key to Me

What happens when a nascent domme meets up with a curious but vanilla man?

Author's note: This is a work of fiction. Please exercise caution when meeting new people for the first time. Many thanks to Culloden, Pplwatching, and NightL. Your insight, questions, and suggestions were instrumental in helping me to refine this story far beyond its original inception.

*******

Dora Ortiz sat in the dim light of the hotel bar, thinking about the carefully handwritten note that she had sent earlier in the week. In the era of digital communication, writing may have become a lost art, but Dora had always been proud of her penmanship.

This Friday, 6 pm. Pick up the key card from the bell desk at the Sheraton. I expect you to be dressed appropriately -- business attire. Don't be late.

A few minutes ago, she'd left another note for him with the bell captain, handwritten on the same stationary. Lightly spritzed with her favorite scent, she hoped that it hinted at seduction and pleasure, while the text clearly conveyed command. Absently stirring the Tequila Sunrise she'd been nursing for the last half hour, Dora stared impatiently at the front desk.

She reminded herself not to set her hopes too high. Although she'd been conversing with Derek via email and IM for months, and they seemed to get along well, online compatibility did not always translate to real world attraction. This was the first time she'd agreed to privately meet with someone without first getting to know him in a public setting.

Dora had spent most of the week carefully contemplating the perfect outfit, finally settling on a red silk blouse and black velvet pencil skirt. Simple but elegant black pumps completed her ensemble. Not at all in keeping with the latest fashion trends, it was nonetheless a style that gave her a much-needed boost of confidence. Whatever butterflies she might be feeling inside, Dora knew she looked the part.

She smiled to herself as she waved off a would-be suitor. Still relatively new to her dominance, it was both unsettling and empowering to have men steal hungry glances, only to avert their eyes when she met their gaze. Though sitting alone, she had plans for the evening and was merely waiting for her companion to arrive.

With three years invested in her local scene, Dora had yet to find anyone with whom she had truly clicked, though she'd made some wonderful friends. In time, she had come to realize that she wanted more than sexual compatibility. She longed for a deeper, more intimately passionate connection. She wanted a man who was her equal, yet who would also completely give himself to her because he craved her beyond reason. She hoped that Derek Kennedy might be that man.

Her thoughts spun in a whirl of anticipation. Still, who knew what might happen? After all, this was to be a rather...unconventional first date. He might decide to stand her up. Or try to change the terms upon which they'd agreed to meet. Worse yet, he might become aggressive. Or, or, or. The safety police nagged her with all the ways this meeting could go wrong.

But that could be said of just about anything. Dora was tired of repeatedly doing the same thing while expecting different results. She knew she was taking a huge risk, but she hadn't completely lost her mind. She'd at least had the sense to arrange for a safety call.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed his arrival as he strode through the lobby and approached the desk. She covertly watched as Derek briefly spoke with the young bell stand attendant, who handed him an envelope before directing him toward the elevators. He tipped the bellman before stepping to the side to inspect her note. Dora was pleased to see that he had manners; always a good sign in a potential lover. He was also well dressed, another good sign.

Closing his eyes, Derek lifted the envelope and inhaled her perfume, smiling as he recognized the scent from before. He opened the envelope and slid out her instructions. Though she hadn't spritzed the envelope itself, the note that it contained left no doubt that she wanted him to think about her as he made his way to her room. Her penmanship was elegant, but the message was to the point.

Go to suite 1213 and let yourself in. It will already be prepared. I'll join you shortly. Speak to no one else in the lobby.

Dora had carefully chosen her seat at the bar. If things went according to plan, he wouldn't see her until she chose to reveal herself, and then only when she gave him permission to look. The elevator to the south tower was a short walk from the desk, but he would be walking away from her.

She admired his confident manner as he moved across the lobby and the relaxed way he reached to press the call button. His poised demeanor and sexy smile were unnerving and arousing at the same time. The picture he had shared didn't do him justice.

As the doors closed after him, Dora realized that she had been holding her breath. She slowly exhaled, thrilled that things were going according to plan. She pulled her phone from her purse and made a brief call.

"He's here, and I'm fixin' to head up. You know where I am, so if you don't hear from me by the agreed upon time, round up the posse and come lookin' for me."

With that, she ended the call and sat for a few minutes, gathering her composure. The woman who drew men's attentions was a portrait of self-confidence, power, and sex. Dora silently wished that she felt as confident as she looked.

********

Derek stood in the middle of the quiet, dimly lit living room. The idea of submitting to a woman who he had never met had seemed hot in theory, but in the here and now, waiting in silence for Dora, the stillness of the room began to close in upon him. Doubt began to creep in. He had never even seen a picture of her, although they had chatted online for months. He had sent her his picture, but she hadn't given him one in return. He preferred shapely women with pretty faces and had no idea if he was going to be disappointed.

On the coffee table in the center of the room was a vase of fresh cut flowers. Her elegant script graced the card leaning against it.

Derek, it's been so long. I'm truly looking forward to meeting you face to face. I am so glad that you agreed. Stand facing the windows with your arms clasped behind your back.

A lipstick kiss and her signature perfume on the card made his cock thicken in anticipation. Through the doorway to the bedroom he could see a length of black fabric draped carelessly across the foot of the bed. He hadn't given it any thought when he initially entered the suite and looked around.

Despite what she'd written in her previous note, Derek had hoped Dora would be in the bedroom, waiting for him to comply with her instructions. When he saw no sign of her, he hadn't looked further. Now alone with his thoughts, he wondered what, if anything, might lie underneath the fabric. The soft, glowing light from the flameless candles scattered throughout the room provided no help.

Dora was a mystery he'd been unable to solve. They'd met on an online discussion forum, responding to various comments they'd each made throughout the boards. Eventually, their conversations had progressed to private messages, then to email, and finally to IM.

He had learned of her interest in BDSM, but even after several late-night chats he still didn't quite understand it. Casual sex he understood. He'd even seduced a few women at the lobby bar in this very hotel, been invited to married women's rooms, and had always left each one satisfied.

The difference was that they were always more than completely willing to spread their legs for him, and there was never any illusion that they weren't each getting exactly what they wanted. BDSM was a concept that he had politely but firmly rejected. Controlling someone wasn't about sex, care, or love; it was use and abuse, and only those who were somehow mentally disturbed indulged in that shit.

Instead of severing contact, Dora had continually challenged Derek to broaden his perspective. He guessed it had worked, because the way she had presented her thoughts over the course of their communication eventually intrigued him enough to suggest an in-person meeting.

The clock on the side table indicated it was 6:15. She was late. Maybe she'd chickened out. Maybe he should just get the hell out of Dodge. As his mind raced, he heard the soft snick of the electronic door catch releasing, and his heart skipped a beat. She was here, and it was too late to change his mind.

*******

Thankful for an empty corridor, Dora stood with the key card in the lock; her forehead pressed against the door jam. The brief elevator ride had done nothing to quell her rising anxiety. She took deep, measured breaths to steady herself.

El que algo quiere, algo le cuesta.

Her mother's favorite dicho floated through her mind. Literally translated, it meant "He who wants something, something it will cost him." In order to reach the goal, she'd have to accept the risk. She turned the handle and opened the door.

Dora was pleased to find that Derek had followed instructions to the letter. He had taken off his shoes and socks and was facing the windows just as she had instructed. From past conversation, she knew he worked out, and though she could not see his face, she knew from the picture he had sent that the man was handsome. Broad shoulders filled out his blue, pin striped dress shirt.

Pressing her fists tightly against her stomach in effort to ease the knots, Dora continued her perusal. Tailored black slacks molded to strong leg and ass muscles should have been the perfect distraction, but she just couldn't seem to settle. This wasn't her first time in scene, but this felt different. Weighted. In the past, she'd played in front of a room full of people and managed just fine, thank you very much. She mentally chided herself. The hell's wrong with you, Dora? With no audience to critique her skills or technique, this should be a piece of cake, right? Right?

Inwardly, she sighed. She'd never been an accomplished liar, particularly to herself.

Casual play partners no longer fit the bill. Sure, eliciting a physical response was fun as all hell, but it was no longer enough. She craved the emotional intimacy of a deeper bond but hadn't realized until this very moment that she'd already begun tentatively forming one with him, at least from her end.

She was probably setting herself up for an epic fail, but the giddy thrill that shot through her whenever she conversed with Derek made her think that perhaps he might be the one, no matter how sternly she lectured herself.

He was turning her on without moving a muscle on that delicious body. If she didn't get her jangling nerves under control, she was going to disappoint them both. Not exactly a world crisis, but damn it, she wanted this to work.

Derek had convinced himself that he wanted this. The slowly heightening anticipation and excitement that had been building throughout the week had invaded his consciousness at the most inopportune moments. Earlier in the day, a client had nearly been accosted by an over exuberant fan. At his weekly pickup game, he'd almost taken an elbow to the nose. To say that his concentration had been suffering was a vast understatement.

Now, standing in the center of a soft pool of light, he was torn. The itch between his shoulder blades told him he had her complete focus as she contemplated her next move. He felt like a meal under glass, and that made him as uncomfortable as it made him hard.

Fantasy was one thing, reality quite another. Could he REALLY hand over control to a woman he'd never met? They'd chatted online for quite some time and he liked what he knew of her, even though he'd never even seen a picture. They seemed to have good chemistry, but what did he truly know about her? How did that old saying go? "On the Internet, no one knows you're a dog."

What 'n hell am I doing here? I must be out of my ever-loving mind.

*******

The soft scrape of Dora's shoes against the carpet told Derek she was moving closer. It was difficult not to lift his eyes, turn his head, and steal a glance as he heard her drawing near. She'd been quite clear he was to keep his gaze lowered until given permission to look at her. Abruptly, the soft footfalls ceased directly behind him. The silence of the room bore down upon him like a weight, broken only by the sound of his own ragged breathing. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke.

"Well now, aren't you a tall one? Obedient, too. Nicely done, darlin'. I'm pleased to see you can follow directions."

Dora paused as she contemplated her next move. So far, he'd complied with her demands, but they'd barely begun, and she was unsure of how far she could push him. After all, he was a newcomer to all of this.

So are you, her subconscious taunted, relatively speaking. Oh, shut up, she retorted. So what if I am. HE doesn't have to know that. Confidence, baby, confidence. Fake it till you make it.

Mentally thumbing her nose at her subliminal doubts, Dora returned her attention to Derek.

"I love a man who knows how to dress. Now let's see what you're made of, darlin'."

Moving up behind him, she skimmed her palms down the sides of his ribcage to his belt, lightly tugging before stepping back a couple of paces to give him room. "I want to see that body you're so proud of. Lose the shirt."

Derek hesitated, suppressing a slight shiver as the sound of her voice washed over him. It was pure sex; warm and mellow, but with a hint of smoke - like fine, aged scotch. The smolder of her voice made his cock grow even harder, stretching the fine material of his slacks.

Dora circled around to stand in front of him, finally coming into his field of vision. Although he hadn't lifted his gaze, his superior height gave him the advantage and he could see that she was tiny in comparison to himself. And yet somehow, she seemed larger than life. Derek could almost FEEL the force of her vitality, and he couldn't help but respond to it.

He noticed the details. The tailored cut of her clothing. The soft waves of her mahogany hair. It was apparent she was every inch the classic lady: elegantly sexy, appearing somewhat aloof. The light, floral scent teasing his nostrils matched the perfume from her previous correspondence. Her red silk blouse and black velvet skirt added to her allure. Despite all of that, or perhaps because of it, his pride rebelled. He could feel the lust rising within him, but he wasn't used to having a woman tell him what to do.

His gaze was still on her feet, but he hadn't moved. Dora kept her expression impassive, summoned up her nerve, and in a neutral tone, addressed him.

"Is there a problem, Derek? You can leave any time you want, but if you're going to stay then you will obey me. I won't ask again."

Derek contemplated her statement. Dora puzzled him because she was not the type of woman he normally associated with. He generally preferred a more laid back, easy- going type of woman; one who didn't stand on ceremony, and who thought nothing of hanging out with the guys.

Women had taken their clothes off for him countless times. His usually came off after theirs, fumbled in their eager fingers between hot kisses. Still, the immediate sexual attraction he felt for her was impossible to deny. Her voice broke his train of thought.

"A pity. I had hoped you wouldn't waste my time, but I can see I was mistaken. You may leave."

Dora hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. She knew this was the moment of truth and had decided to gamble, perhaps the first of several this evening. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her Derek would never yield control to her, and she had been a fool to invite him here.

Derek had never had a woman ask him to leave. The disappointment in her voice, the disappointment in HIM was not something he was used to, and it stung more than he cared to admit. His cock was hot against his leg. He wanted Dora, but he knew that if he stood his ground she was going to walk away.

His hand moved to loosen his tie before he even knew what he was doing. Slowly, deliberately, he removed his cuff links, placing them neatly with his tie on the nearby coffee table. Next, he pulled the tails from his waistband, before moving his hands to the line of buttons. He drew the sleeves down the length of each arm before carefully folding the shirt in half and placing it onto the growing pile of clothing. Finally, he grasped the hem of his white, cotton undershirt, pulling it up and off his body in one smooth roll of muscle.

While he hadn't exactly performed a striptease, Derek didn't need to look up to know that Dora was watching him with approval. He knew she liked what she was seeing, because every woman he'd been with before her had liked what they saw when he took off his shirt.

Dora concealed the relief that swept through her as her eyes drank in his chiseled pecs, wide shoulders, and muscular arms. Smiling, she caressed his cheek. "That's better. Good boy."

Inexplicably, Derek felt his stomach cliff dive even as the endearment rankled. He was no boy.

"I'm goin' to very much enjoy playin' with YOU, darlin'. The only question bein', where to begin? There're so many delightful possibilities." Dora tapped a finger against crimson lips. "You know, I'll bet you have the most scrumptious ass. Nice and firm, just the way I like them."

Circling behind him once more, Dora continued. "Be a good boy and show me."

Derek kept his eyes on the floor, a slight hesitation before his hands dropped to his belt, loosened the buckle, and slid the leather free of the loops. It joined the rest of his clothing on the nearby table. Stepping carefully, deliberately, out of his pants, he folded them neatly and set them next to the rest of his clothing.

Dora admired his physique as he straightened. She savored the familiar flush of excitement and dampness between her legs as he slipped off his boxer briefs, leaving him naked before her. She admired his sculpted ass and legs, drinking in the view.

After a moment of contemplation, she nodded decisively. "I do believe that part of your anatomy will be the focus of my attention today. On your knees, darlin'."

Derek wasn't sure what to make of that. On the one hand, his cock was already rock hard. His balls ached with the force of his lust, and the scene had barely begun. What would it be like when she actually touched him? On the other hand, where was she taking this?

Snippets of previous conversation chased across his memory. He remembered things like the importance of safe words, and there'd been a checklist filled with all sorts of activities that had tantalized more than he wanted to admit.

But beyond possible likes and specific limits, he couldn't recall an agenda being set. Was she going to fuck him with a strap-on? Spank him? Both? Various possibilities skittered through his thoughts, filling him with equal parts excitement and apprehension. What, exactly, would she demand of him? Only one way to find out, Kennedy. Nervously, he cleared his throat and knelt.

"Yes, Ma'am."

*******

"Yes, Ma'am." Two words Dora most loved to hear. It wasn't the first time they had been addressed to her, but something about the way he said them shot a thrill straight to her core. The tremor in his voice spoke of trepidation, of vulnerability, though he'd probably deny it with his last breath.

The hardness of his beautiful cock spoke of lust. She could see the tension in his body warring with his arousal. The tautness of his muscles, the rigid set of his wide shoulders, the nervous licking of his lips: all belied the calm demeanor he strove to present.