4 comments/ 4576 views/ 3 favorites Entering His Dominion Ch. 01 By: sexykinkybitchy347 Amla looked around furtively as she entered the tiny internet café. She did not want to be seen by anyone, least of all Rocky, the arrogant leader of the neighborhood gang. Rocky had been trying to get her attention for the past year. In a small town like Shimla, gangs like his had great power and Amla feared at the recklessness this power might infuse in him. Yet these were tiny botherations compared to what was about to happen today. Today, S was going to send her a picture. 'S' was what Amla used to refer to the man she had been chatting with for the past five months. He had not told her anything about himself, yet he knew all of her deepest, darkest secrets. Her fears, likes and dislikes. Her proclivity towards the dark world of bondage and pain. All of her past sexual experience (or lack of it). The only two things Amla had managed to keep privy were her name and her location. Or so she thought. It had started so innocently. At the café working on a college project, Amla had stumbled upon a chat site. He found her. He spoke to her. Everyday. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He asked questions. So many questions! And always, he would avoid answering hers. Slowly, very slowly, he introduced her to it. BDSM, he said, was a lifestyle. At first, Amla was terrified. She ran to her one bedroom apartment and slammed the door closed, heart beating wildly. Yet she found herself thinking about it. The ropes and the chains. The metal and the leather. She dreamt of submission that night. Every day after that was an adventure. S would give her a new topic to read every night, and she would have to send him an email with her thoughts on it the next morning. Amla secretly loved reading what he gave her. She would devour the articles, eyeing the pictures of the graciously sprawled, naked women with averted eyes and bent heads, and she would imagine herself in their place. What would it be like, to submit like that? What emotions could a person in that position possibly feel? Shame or embarrassment was understandable. But pleasure? Amla scoffed, even as the twinge between her legs gave her nonchalance away. It took her two months of reading, watching videos and learning about BDSM from S to admit to herself that it excited her. For a long time, Amla deterred admitting it to herself, held prisoner by the threads of shame and stigma society had attached to the topic. But when she came one night with a throaty cry, her fingers moving frantically in the wet folds of her pussy, her head filled with images of her body stretched into bizarre positions and held in place with thick cords, Amla realized there was no denying it. She wanted to be a submissive. S did not seem surprised. He explained to Amla that she was 'naturally submissive', and he had discovered that tendency within a week of talking to her. Although this frightened her, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of thrill: he cared, after all! In the past months, she had developed a strange addiction to this man. This man who came into her dark fantasies every night. This faceless, yet somehow beautiful man who awakened something deep within her: a part she did not herself understand. Maybe it was time to explore. She would be done with college in a few weeks, and had no plans thereafter. S had asked if she wanted to come to his city. He would find her a job, and they could give their relationship a shot. It was a terrifying, tantalizing offer. Yet in these months of self discovery, she had shed the skin of the timid, shy girl she used to be. Amla felt newer, braver somehow. And so she had agreed, upon one condition: he would send her a picture of himself. Not the body, she did not care for the size of his penis or the shape of his muscles. She wanted to look at his eyes. As the photo loaded, Amla nervously drummed her fingernails on the table. He already knew how she looked, she had sent him a photograph the previous day. He had sent nothing but a laconic 'Good girl.' in response to her mail. Why did he do this? Withhold his thoughts like this? It multiplied her feeling tenfold. All of a sudden, there was a man staring at her from her screen. S had sent her a shot from the shoulder upwards. Dark hair, a slanting nose, lips set in a grim line. And his eyes! His eyes were like pools of black lava. It was like he could see her, his gaze was so intense. Amla looked away, and bit her lip. She felt her hand straying towards her taut nipples: already protruding through the sheer fabric of her dress. No! She could not. Not in public. Hastily, she typed 'Yes.', printed out the picture and ran home. The next day she was in a daze. College was over, and her friends were meeting for a party before they all went their separate ways. Amla was content to sit in her room and dream about the future, but her she had been dragged along. The party was as boring as she had expected: Amla spent the night nursing consecutive glasses of whiskey by the fireplace and thinking about S's eyes. As she left with her friends, Amla was aware that she was quite tipsy. They stumbled along the deserted roads, shivering at the cold. Amla was even colder, having forgotten her jacket at the party. All she wanted to do was get home. "Where are you girls off to?" Rocky and his cronies came out of nowhere, blocking their path. Internally, the part of her brain that was not numb cried out in fear. It was late. There was nobody to come to her aid, and she was too drunk to fend Rocky off alone. He marched right up to her and threw her over his shoulder, heading for a nearby building: Amla watched the world upside down, only half aware of what was happening. Before she knew it, he had her up against the wall and pressed his mouth on hers: slobbery and demanding. Disgusted, she tried pushing him away, but her arms felt like lead by her side. "Get..off me!" she managed a small cry. Rocky laughed, a loud guffaw that seemed to echo everywhere. "You can't run away today, darling. I've wanted this for far too long." Suddenly, his hands were off her, and she was falling. Before she could hit the ground, a strong arm caught her. Amla looked up, and could not believe her eyes. S! Was it really him? She stared, open mouthed, as he punched Rocky across the jaw with his free arm, throwing him to the snow. "What..you.." Amla tried forming a coherent sentence, but a combination of the whiskey and her chattering teeth hindered her. "Hush now. Let me take care of you." S draped his coat around her, picked her up and walked towards her house. Somewhere in the back of her mind, an alarm went off. How did he know where she lived? How did he get here? What was happening? But no answers came. The last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep was S hovering over her, tucking her in to bed. "Go to sleep, sweet pet. We shall talk in the morning." Entering His Dominion Ch. 02 Amla awoke with a start, clutching the sheets wildly. In her dream she had been drowning - swallowing water, yet managing to breathe somehow. In a flash, all the events of last night came back to her. Gasping, she looked around for him, and there he was. Leaning against the doorframe, watching her. She was still in yesterday's clothes. That meant he hadn't undressed her, at least. "I haven't touched you." "Oh. No, I mean..", Amla stuttered, at a loss for words yet again. S sighed. He walked up to her and held her chin, pulling her face up towards his. He brought his face within three inches of hers and just stared at her with those eyes of his. Amla looked away, terrified, unable to meet his intense gaze. "Look at me." His voice was calm, yet there was a ring of finality to it that Amla could not ignore. She peeked up at him, her eyes wide with fascination and fear. "I haven't touched you yet because you haven't officially agreed yet. Believe me, if you had, I'd be slamming you against that headboard right now, fucking you raw." Amla gulped. Every part of her was tense, and she was shivering. "I said yes. To the email," she managed. "That isn't official." S straightened. "Go get yourself cleaned up, I'll get the final documents out. If we are to begin, we begin today. Right now. You say no, and I'll walk out the door. Now go," he strode away, towards the living room. Still shivering, Amla stepped into the shower. A million thoughts were running though her head. Did she really want to do this? Yes, she realized. She did. But how safe was it? She didn't even know this guy's name. But the fact that he hadn't taken advantage of her the previous night convinced her. She wanted to do this. All her life, Amla had missed out, simply because she was scared. Not this time. As she let the warm water slide over her naked body, her hand slipped down to her mound, freshly shaved from the previous day. She wondered what he would be like in bed. That voice, those eyes - oh, those eyes! How they intimidated her. She imagined looking into them as he slammed into her, and her fingers caressed the tiny nub of her clitoris. Her eyes closed, she spread her legs and leaned back against the wall, putting one arm above her head in mock submission. As S moved faster and faster behind her closed lids, Amla's fingers moved faster and faster till she came violently, gasping and spluttering, her eyelids fluttering open. She marveled at how there could be water all around her, outside her, and she could still be so wet. Smiling, she stepped out, wrapped a towel around her naked, slippery body and stepped outside. S was sitting at the dining table, poring over some documents. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Amla standing there, still wet from the shower and in nothing but a towel. He got up and walked towards her, running a finger along the trace of a drop of water from the base of her neck till it disappeared into the towel. Amla shivered slightly, and closed her eyes. "So. This is your version of a yes, I'm guessing?" "Yes. Yes.. Sir," Amla's voice seemed feeble even to herself, in comparison to his deep confident tone. "I did draw out a contract, but going over it and signing will take a while. And with you in that towel and that wet tangled hair, I don't think I want to wait much longer," S looked down at the bulge in his trousers, and Amla followed his gaze. Slowly and hesitantly, she reached down and rubbed her hand along the bulge. It seemed to respond, moving upwards and bulging out even more. Feeling bolder, Amla unzipped his pants and let his cock spring out against her palm: hot and heavy. As she stroked it, S turned her face upwards. "Look at me when you're stroking my cock, pet. Now on your knees. Show me how you can use that mouth of yours. And don't look away." Amla's eyes reflected her alarm. Look at him while she was giving him a blowjob? In the tiny sphere of her sexual experiences, Amla had never looked up at the guy when she was blowing him. It had always seemed too derogatory, too demeaning. "Now." His order left no room for hesitation. As she knelt, S slipped her towel off. Now she was naked and he completely clothed. Amla's shivering intensified. She took his penis in her mouth and looked up at him, standing over her. Although the room was dark, Amla could make out the smile in his voice when he spoke. "Good girl." Amla was not prepared for the sudden rush of satisfaction that flooded her. She doubled the effort of her actions on his penis, sliding it down her throat as much as possible while cupping his balls in her hands. She slowly ran her tongue over the base, looking up at him playfully. Suddenly, S grabbed a fistful of her still-wet hair and guided her mouth up and down the full length of his cock, pumping it into her face. Amla was left choking and spluttering, trying desperately to keep up as he intensified his pace. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she gagged, blurring her vision of his looming form. She tried pushing him slightly back so she could breathe, but S grabbed both of her wrists with his other hand and held them captive above her. He would pull out long enough for Amla to draw a gasping, spluttering breath and then keep pumping. And all Amla could do was look up at him, pleadingly, with tears in her eyes. In a heartbeat, she realized she was completely at his mercy. And what was more, she wanted to be. S pulled her to her feet and threw her on the bed, climbing on top of her. Pinning her arms above her, he looked into her eyes, wiping away the tears. Amla spread her legs involuntarily. She was turned on beyond imagination, and all she wanted was to feel him inside her. She wanted to be taken, she wanted to be owned. Agonizingly, S rubbed the tip of his cock against her slippery pussy lips, but did not enter her. Amla whimpered. "Who do you belong to, Amla?" the use of her name startled her. "You, Sir. I belong to you." The answer came naturally, instinctively. S leaned down and kissed her, long and hard. Amla melted against his mouth like butter against a hot knife, arching her body up towards him. He reached down and fondled her breasts, cupping and squeezing, his tongue fiercely claiming her willing mouth. Amla could not take it anymore. How could she be so turned on, and yet so far from satisfaction? "Please, Sir.." she whispered, almost sobbing with need. "Please what, pet?" he growled, moving down to nibble at her rock hard nipples, making her gasp in shock and pleasure. "Please fuck me. I need your cock inside me, Sir. Please." Amla's voice rose to a high-pitched pleading. Her eyes, desperate and frantic, met his calm and controlled gaze. S smiled and pushed inside her tantalizingly, without looking away. Amla moaned as she felt the combined power of his gaze and the full length of his cock entering her. This man! He started moving faster, pumping in and out of her hot, wet cunt. S grunted as he fucked her. It was a raw, guttural sound, sending waves of pleasure coursing through Amla. He took her left nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching slightly. The sudden jolt of pain combined with the feeling of Sir's cock pushing deep into her threw Amla over the edge. She screamed, coming to the most violent, shuddering orgasm she had ever had. S slammed into her once more and took his hard penis out, spilling his thick cum across her belly. Looking up at him through half-closed eyes, Amla sighed contentedly. "Thank you Sir." He laughed. "Let's get you cleaned up, pet." As she followed him to the bathroom, Amla realized she really was a submissive. She had submitted to this man, and had loved it. And she still did not know his name.