Christmas Eve, 2003. Baltimore. Central Station, the gay bar on the corner of Charles and Read. It’s early, only 7 or 8 in the evening. I am 27, so I feel the night is very young. The bar isn’t crowded, and I spy a woman a few feet away. She’s taller than me, broader, has a sense about her that’s different from me: she’s dominant. I can feel it.
My drunken memory doesn’t recall how my friends and I ended up sitting with her, C., and her friend. Once we did, though, the flirting came easy. And I went home that night with C.–and her roommate, a gay man who’d been cruising for his own Christmas Eve party. He didn’t score at all, but on the way to their pretty and spacious Charles Village apartment, we stopped at 7-11 and he bought me a pina colada slushie. In my vodka’d and Camel Lit mouth, it was heaven.
We get to their apartment, and C. informs me that before she can pay any attention to me, she must exchange gifts with her roommate. To ensure that I don’t bother them, she retrieves wrist cuffs from her bedroom.
“Kneel,” she says, standing between the living and dining rooms.
I do, and she clasps my wrists together.
“Be good,” she whispers, and pulls down my tights and little panties, swats me on the ass.
She starts to walk away, but turns back to roughly pull my tank top down, leaving my breasts exposed.
I knelt there for nearly an hour, ignored. I tried, initially, to get C.’s attention, but the more I thought about obeying her, the more excited I got. Finally, I lay down on my side and rested–figuring I’d need it.
I was right. When C.’s retrieved me, she pushed me into her bedroom, tossed me onto the bed. A box of jumbled toys lay open on the floor. I felt her hand first, spanking me, turning me sweetly pink, then a light shade of red. Then I felt her leather paddle–heavy smacks, but with soft thick leather that made me feel sexier and sexier with each unrelenting smack.
When she pushed me onto my back, she unhooked my wrists, only to hook them onto the headboard. She slid a slim butt plug into me, effortlessly, and then I felt her fingers–hard and intense, pounding my cunt. One finger, then two, then three–I screeched into an orgasm, and then another, and then another.
At some point she let me go–wrists unbound, orifices empty, I curled up and slept there in her bed. I remember she laid her hand on my forehead, kissed my face, wished me good sleep.
I’d been her toy on Christmas Eve. I woke up still drunk, craving another Pina Colada slushie, my body deliciously sore.
