Perils of Arousal Ch. 01

There was darkness within the room that was not often appreciated in human nature. Few appreciate the tender fashion of darkness, how it was much like a velvet glove that caressed the flesh lovingly. There were few who could appreciate darkness as much as he, whether it is natural or artificial. Within this room, a young gentleman sat, disheartened at recent revelations. His sexual adventures within the online world had been disturbed. His girlfriend, through her paranoid nature, had decided that she could search through his files. What she had found had disturbed her. The love that she had placed upon him had been lost through the revelations. She had searched and searched. There was no doubt. It was obvious. His dark fantasies had been found.

She had been both enraged and saddened. How could he be interested in such fantasies? How could he find pleasure in such decadent desires? How was it that pleasure could be found in such twisted darkness? She had asked him a thousand questions. He had remained silent. This did nothing but anger her more. She found his silence to be little more than a confession. He confessed to his twisted sins. Her desires, as tender and beautiful as they were, he thought, were upon the verge of mundane. There was no sexual exploration. There was no sense of passion and hunger. It was but an act of common lust. He appreciated the beautiful lustful acts that the two explored with one another but it remained much the same. There was no explicit hunger or desire.

With such thoughts upon his mind, she had left him. She had decided that she was better to seek someone whom was much the same as her; reserved, quiet and mundane. Those were her words. She could not remain with a man whom had such desires. He had said nothing. This, so she presumed, was his confession. This was his acceptance. In truth, the silence was nothing of the sort. Beneath the pursed lips, he was angered. She had no right to search through his files. He was upset. How could she judge him in such a fashion? Was love not meant to be the acceptance and embrace of one's faults? It was apparent that the pair's views upon love were quite different. So it was that he now sat, troubled, unable to face the world.

The world, however, wished for him to embrace his life. In order to appease himself of his sins, though also to relieve himself of the problems within his mind, he deleted all the files upon his computer. The online world which he explored was lost. It had been deleted. It had been terminated. Like his relationship, there was nothing to salvage. The hours passed in silence as file after file was deleted. There was no return call. There was no hesitation from his girlfriend. He had left. It was the end. Or so he thought. He thought that she hated him. He thought she had left him because he was twisted. Instead, she had a different purpose. She had an ulterior motive. He wanted to sleep but the pain was too great. He wanted to sleep but he could not. He was too disturbed.

As he remained upon his bed, looking upwards towards the ceiling, he heard the knock upon his door. It was late. Who would knock upon his door at this hour, he thought to himself as he groaned and headed towards the door. The sight both frightened him and aroused him; a woman, cloaked in darkness, stood upon the porch in a beautiful black corset, a short black skirt and boots that were frighteningly aroused. He stood in silence. He was too stunned to speak. The woman said nothing. She remained, as commanding and confident as ever. She neither moved nor spoke. It was intimidating. He wanted to retreat backwards but he was too allured. The sight was perfect. It was part of his dream. He smiled, though he did not know why.

"You are going to let me in." He recognised that voice; it was his girlfriend. What was she doing? He did not understand it. What drove her to this? Was it love or lust?

"Of course." He opened the door wider to let her in. She slapped him hard upon the cheek as she stepped through the door and he winced in pain. What was this? What was happening? It was all happening too fast.

"You will call me Mistress. Understood?" For some reason, he did nothing but nod. She slapped him again. He winced in pain and cowered under her prowess. What he done now? What reason did she have for slapping him this time? He was growing aroused...but frightened. He had never seen this side of her.

"You will answer with your voice, not your head. Say it again. Call me Mistress." He was quivering. She was confident. This was a frightening situation. It was as though his life was within her hands. He could sense that it was as though a blade was pressed against his throat. If he made a mistake, he would lose...he would lose her.

"Yes, Mistress." He struggled but it came. His voice lacked confidence. It seemed that she had stolen his confidence. She grasped the collar of his shirt and thrust him onto the ground. He fell downwards onto his knees. She seemed to hold a commanding presence. As he attempted to stand upwards, the sole of her boot pressed against his spine. He could feel her heel digging into his spine. He struggled but it was a futile struggle, as though he was beginning to accept his role. He was the submissive man. She had accepted him. She had embraced him but this was beyond his dreams. This was beyond his imagination. This was reality.

"My boots are dirty. Lick them clean." He groaned. She dug her heel into his spine. He winced. He turned onto his knees and her boot was pressed against his lips. At first, he was timid. His tongue outstretched. He could taste the rain. He could taste the dirt. Regardless, he continued. He became more passionate. She chuckled as he licked the boot clean, his saliva giving it a gentle glow. She pressed the other boot against his lips. He repeated the process. She laughed once more, though more gentle. Clearly, she was impressed with his submission.

"What do you say?" She asked as she took the boots away and once again pushed him to the ground. He groaned. She truly was encompassing the role of the Femme Domme.

"Thank you, Mistress." He stated proudly. She grasped his collar and dragged him to the bed. She laughed as she searched through a box of sexual pleasantries and withdrew two pairs of handcuffs. He began to resist. This was too far. It was too much. He growled at her. She slapped him. Hard. What was wrong with her? It was as though she had become possessed in her dominating role. She grasped his hands. The handcuffs were snapped onto each hand. He was now restrained, tied to the bed.

"What's wrong with you? Why are you doing this?" She slapped him once more. She was growing more and more possessive. She was growing more and more dominant. It frightened him. He had never expected this. He had never wanted this to happen. "Shut up! You wanted this, you dirty little pervert. You wanted to be undermined. You wanted to be tortured. It's all part of your twisted little fantasy. Now, I'm fulfilling it. Why are you complaining?" Despite himself, he moaned. It was a moan of sensuality. His mind screamed its anger but his body was against him. He was growing aroused. She could sense his arousal. She had always known of his twisted fantasies. She always knew when he was aroused. He hated her for that.

"I...I...I don't...understand." He said between his moans of delight as her hands decided to roam across his figure. She was being dominating but her gentle nature was also revealing it. He was quite thankful. He was growing frightened of her commanding prowess. He appreciated her commanding presence but it had grown too much for him.

"You will understand." She stated as she tied the handcuffs against his legs. He was now completely restrained. This was not right. He couldn't understand it. She had always been gentle. She had always been quiet...reserved even. This new side of her was too much for him. He couldn't handle it. He did not expect her to be quite so commanding. He never expected her to be quite so confident.

"Wait here." She stated firmly. He struggled. Where was she going? What was she doing? Where else could he go? He looked at her, puzzled. He was distorted...confused. She betrayed herself for a moment as she kissed him upon the lips. It was hard. It was rough. She left in a moment, leaving him trapped upon the bed with his hands and legs chained to a bed. He needed an explanation.