The Surrender

I found myself in an unbelievable situation. My back held tight against the freezing doorway, my wrists were secured high above my head with rough, digging rope to a conveniently placed hook. My red satin shirt hung open revealing an indulgently decorated black bra with a now vulnerable front clasp. My hips swayed vainly trying to gain balance. Only the very tip of my shiny black pin heeled shoes grazed the floor and only if I strained to reach it. I looked around, finally taking in my surroundings trying to map how the evening had brought me here.

I went to the bar after work. The site promised an evening of release and pleasure to any woman willing to submit her self to the pursuit of exploration. What a ridiculous ad and a slogan I would have never approved had one of my idiotic so-called advertising professionals brought it to my desk. For a moment my mind ground with all the common stresses of the office, the way the lights pierced my head like little bolts of unnatural lightning tearing away my patience. The way the women at the front desk chattered unendingly about the most insignificant dribble. The way the men puffed out their chests, clamored to be the first through the doorway to my office. My brain ached with these sudden and frequent stabs of moronic suffering before I took quick deep swig of the strong drink the bartender had fixed me.

I savored the heat rising through my esophagus the pleasant aftertaste on my tongue and in that private moment I felt a light touch on my side. The cool fabric sweeping gently across my skin made me tense and raised my defenses. No one, absolutely no one would dare touch me without my permission and I indeed gave that to no one. I turned ready to make heads roll with a glare that would burn a hole through pure lead. But I was taken aback, my vision cut off by the stunning stranger who pulled me in with his strong arm draped around my back and kissed my neck. He stayed for one delicious moment breathing warmth into my skin, melting my resolve. From that instant I was his completely taken by the charisma and authority the man held like a god, like Atlas held the world.

He knew me. At least he knew about me. He knew I was a desperate professional, a desperate woman who had surrendered her information and a large sum of money to a strange website. He knew that I was a woman wearing a red blouse drinking alone at the bar like the site had specified. But more than that he knew what I didn't tell the website. He knew the words I wanted to hear, the crap that I didn't. He knew what I drank and he knew it wouldn't bother me to see him slip the powder into my glass before offering it to me. It was my drink yet I wasn't allowed have it until he said so. He knew the power that I had; the authority that I reined over others, and yet he treated me like nothing. Like I was his and completely under his control and so I was. The complete surrender to another was intoxicating and I drank deeply of it. I became drunk on it.

This stranger introduced himself as Serif. Of course it was a fake name and an indulgent one at that but at the time it seemed fitting. He was a strong man with large hands and a completely unreadable face. My type, the site new this, but I had no idea I would get such a perfect and real example of the dark man who haunted the dreams I used to have. He stood before me and slid his fingers inside my shirt just barely hinting at touching my skin. With my hands restrained all I could do was push my hips toward him silently begging for more. He would have none of this. He grasped my sides tightly, squeezing painfully and pushed me hard against the door frame. Only after the stinging had erupted across the left side of my face did I realize his large hand had slapped me hard. I fell into my arms, my knees went limp and he drew back slightly looking at me. His head tilted to his left mirroring the tilt of mine mocking my distress.

He resumed his caress on my stomach and slowly got to his knees. His practiced hands found their way around my body to the zipper of my tight, high-waisted skirt. As the zipper descended his strong hand slid down my ass to cup the full measure of one cheek. He was enjoying this. I wasn't just another woman looking for an exotic night. I wasn't a lonely sap looking for someone to love her. I was a strong successful woman that he had playing into his every demand. He had conquered me and he was enjoying the spoils. The rich fleshy spoils of my body were now on display as he pulled off the ridiculously uncomfortable skirt. With a rather satisfied smirk he pulled back to take in the sight of me. From the floor up to my finger tips his eyes measured and judged everything he saw. I felt his gaze slowly reach up from the pointed toes trapped in my patent leather shoes. To the black thigh high tights showing the precise curves of my long legs. To the straps desperately connecting the top edge of my tights up to the garter stretched around my hips. His view lingered at my breasts enjoying the view of my considerable fullness barely contained. My deep, anxious breaths made my breasts heave within the constraining bra. His eyes wandered upward as his legs straightened, he looked into my eyes and bored a hole right through me. All I could do was fall into his eyes, I tried to pin down a color but they seemed to shift and scintillate. This man was a god.