This is the beginning/set up for a long form story I'm currently working on. It's loosely based on the Greek/Roman myth of Eros (Cupid) and Psyche. My writing style is literary, heavily detailed, consent-focused, and romantic. If these things appeal to you, I'd love your feedback!

I thought that maybe I was just cursed to wander the Earth alone. I turned thirty-three a few weeks ago. My parents are Welsh and English, and I inherited their straight fair hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. I was small, about five-two, with an almost stereotypical English rose look, peaches and cream complexion and small features. I was an associate professor of Classics at a prestigious public university. I was gunning for tenure and I wanted to write books. People told me I was nice, sweet, polished, and of course, smart. I had almost everything going for me.

But. Friends say they were surprised that I hadn’t found love. Never. My longest relationship was one year in college. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t get dates, I easily could, it was just that no one was ever quite right. I was too old to have never been in love, I thought, despairing. Maybe I was cursed.

With that last thought, I knew I needed to get out of my head and apartment. Thick loose sweater, professorial-looking herringbone pants, some boyish oxfords, and I head to a coffee shop.

The weather was so nice that day. The sun was finally shining, people, especially couples, were out and about. It was the kind of early spring day that makes it hard to stay pessimistic. When I think back, I’m pretty sure I was paying attention when I crossed the residential street, but I’m not sure. Anyway, out of nowhere comes this douche canoe Tesla, roaring inches from me. I startled and shrieked as it whizzed by, nearly clipping me. I swear it was less than a foot from me. Then it flipped a u-turn and parked across from me as I ran back across to the safety of the sidewalk.

“What the hell! Where did you come from? Are you okay? I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry…” A dude rushed out of the car and toward me. His face went from anger to anxious sadness.

Him. The then-anxious driver of the Tesla. When I looked up at him, I felt my world spin. The best I could describe it was that I felt like everything around me spun for a moment, and the world landed slightly off kilter. Something changed. I still don’t know if it was the adrenaline, something about him, or both.

“I’m - I’m okay.” I was pretty rattled, then relief washed over me. I nearly laughed. Maybe it was hysteria at such a close call.

“Would you like a hug? You look like you could use one. Or maybe I could use one. No pressure though.” Maybe he was feeling hysterical too, because that suggestion was crazy but also felt right.

“Yeah. I was just about to get a coffee.” He pulled me in and held me in a warm embrace. He smelled incredible, a sort of masculine scent that made me think of freshly cut wood with a faint hint of some sort of sweet spice. Close up, I thought his skin and eyes were even more beautiful. Hm. Clean cut Tesla drivers weren’t at all my type. I wanted to snuggle into this one’s arms. Now that was a crazy thought. This man nearly killed me, and I had just met him.

“Would it be alright if I bought that coffee for you? It’s the least I could do.”

“Yes. Do you need a coffee too?” I wanted to be near this dude. I wasn’t sure why, as I acted on pure compulsion.

“After that experience, hell yeah. I’m Vivek, pronounced viv-ai-k.” He held out a hand. His clothes were as sleek as his chiseled cheekbones and jawline were sharp.

“I’m Carys. It’s Welsh. Pronounced ca-riss. It means love.”

“It’s beautiful. Vivek means wisdom. Wait for me here, I’ll go park the stupid car that I’m afraid to drive and come get you. You were getting coffee nearby, yeah?” I internally agreed with him on the stupidity of his car.

“Yeah. Okay.”

It wasn’t the adrenaline. Coffee stretched into the type of conversation that has a lot of eye contact and laughter. You’ve probably already guessed that he was charming and erudite. He has to be. He was a techie who worked at a company that IPO’d, then he started his own company. This is tech-speak for: he has a small nest egg and has the confidence to speak to investors and manage people. And given all of that, I could already tell he was a very busy person who was preoccupied and almost obsessive about work. It also explained the car and the polished clothes, and the smooth nearly effortless way he turned a near-accident into something that was a near-date.

“Hey, Carys, I know this is a little weird, but would you be interested in going on a date?”

“I would,” I smiled.

“Again, I’m sorry. But I don’t regret meeting you. It feels like - I don’t know.”

I couldn’t put my finger on it either, but I was happy.

Coffee led to a dinner date, which led to a hike, which led to more dinners and more and more time spent together. Finally, after about 6 dates over 6 weeks of hanging out, Vivek texted -

“ Carys, I want to talk to you about something. Privately. Maybe dinner at my place? You can see my place ;-) ”

Admittedly, I can be naive at times, but I knew exactly what he meant. “ Sounds good :) When were you thinking? ”

So I went to his place on a Sunday evening. It was lovely: one of those classic California midcentury houses, with beautiful wood-paneled walls and walls of glass with gorgeous views of the city across the bay and hills. It was as sleek and stylish as he was. He had cooked up a small feast: a snack of spicy roasted chickpeas, rice, palak paneer (a spicy spinach dish with cubes of mild cheese), and a spiced cauliflower dish.

What floored me about it was how much effort he must have put into planning the meal, buying the groceries, and cooking all this food. He made three dishes just for us.

I squealed, delighted. “It all looks and smells so delicious! You put so much work into this. Thank you so much!”

“I don’t cook much these days, but my mom taught me because she wanted me to know a bit about my heritage. I’m glad you like it.” he said, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

Like it? I loved it. It was all as delicious as it smelled. He was careful with the heat, but everything was perfectly spiced. The vegetables were just right, cooked through but not soggy.

After we ate, he served us some herbal masala chai - that’s tea brewed with milk, sugar, and spices - and asked me if I wanted to cuddle on his sofa. When we got there, he spooned me from behind.

“You smell so good,” I said. Even I noticed how breathy I sounded.

“Hmm, so do you.” Then he tilted my face toward his face, and I turned toward him. He held my face, and came closer for a kiss. Our amazing, beautiful first kiss, actually. I pressed myself against him, tighter as it ended, wanting more.

“Carys, this is what I wanted to talk about,” he murmured before kissing me again. “I have to tell you -” I could feel my cheeks turning pink, and I leaned in again. He kissed me again, this time reaching up and pinching my nipple. Any harder and I would have cried out. I was startled, but it also felt so good. “Carys -” We were both breathing pretty hard. “I want to, but we really should talk first.” I turned around, so that I was facing him. I could see and feel his excitement. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I smiled.

“So,” he paused. Deep breath. “So, the thing is, I’m pretty kinky, and it’s pretty important to me.”

“Okay. Cool.” I really wanted to make out some more.

“Carys, are you horny right now?”

“How could you tell?” It took every bit of self-control not to whine at him then.

“It’s pretty obvious. And because you didn’t care at all about what I said and wanted to keep making out. You’re usually very thoughtful and attentive.” He grabbed both of my wrists in one hand, and held my hands above my head before kissing me again. Then he laid me down on the couch, still holding my wrists, and kissed me again. “How does that feel, that I’m holding you down?” He pinched my nipple through my thin shirt again. How did he know just how much pressure? “Do you like that?”

“Yes. How do you know when to stop?” I whined.

“Because I can read your threshold on your face and in your little whimpers.” Oh. I hadn’t noticed the whimpers. “How would you feel if I tied you down? If I took some cuffs, tied your wrists and ankles to my bed, and had my way with you?” He pinched a little more firmly as he asked, and studied my face.

I felt the surge of warmth creep up through me. My face turned red, and I could feel the wetness between my legs. I looked up with a mixture of fear and excitement. “I - I’ve never done that before.”

“But I think you’re excited by the thought.”

I nodded.

“Are you opening your legs for me because you need me to touch you, naughty girl?”

I blushed. I hadn’t noticed that part of my reaction either. I turned red easily, and I could feel how warm I got then. “Yes.”

“Look at you blushing. So sweet.” He still held my wrists, but used his other hand to lift up my skirt. I squirmed under him. He reached up again, this time under my shirt, and pinched my other nipple through the thin lacy bra I wore. You know, just in case. “Hmm, a skirt and lace underneath. Did you dress up for this?”

“Yes.” My hips, acting out of pure need and desire, pushed up toward him.

He leaned down, hand pushing against my lacy panties. He was so gorgeous, with those big eyes and those perfect cheekbones. His arousal, the woodsy, spiced scent grew stronger and hovered in the air around me. His expression betrayed nothing. He was studying me, intense and almost icy cold. I couldn’t - it was just so much, he was so fucking sexy. “Say please.”

Pure animalistic lust filled me. I felt hotter at how greedy I was for him, and how coolly he appraised me. I shivered and writhed with neediness under him with it. Before I could even think, I was replying to him. “Oh, please.”

His hand reached between my folds, easily finding the hood of my clit before moving it and rubbing it gently. “You’re so wet, and you’re so ready, aren’t you?” His voice, oh my god, it was just so cool and distant. It made me feel so slutty. He began to draw little circles around it, using two fingers, then teasing them down, stopping again just before penetrating me, then back to the circles.

“Yes, please -” I whined and arched under his teasing fingers, squirming helplessly as he held me down and pleasured me.

“You’ll make a very good sub. I can imagine you begging me that way -” Then he flattened his hand against my clit, pushing past the soft inner lips, and pushed his fingers into me, searching until he found a spot I particularly liked. I rose under his hand, putting pressure on that spot.

“Yes, yes, please!” And he worked me, circling my clit and rubbing it as my moans turned into small cries and then finally penetrating me with his fingers again and rubbing that wonderful spot in the best way possible. “Oh my god, you’re going to make me cum if you keep doing that…”

“Yeah? Are you? Show me what a naughty horny girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” He was looking down at me.

And those words did it for me. He was making me feel hotter and hotter, my face turning red with fiery pleasure. My muscles tightened on his fingers. I cried out as I felt myself cumming for him, squeezing my eyes shut and letting the waves of pleasure flow through me.

He released my wrists as I laid back, beautifully spent in the best way possible. Then he pulled down my panties, just a few inches, and flattened his tongue against me and lapped up all the cum I had poured for him. I moaned and surged toward him, but he pulled my panties back up and smoothed my skirt down. Then he slowly, lasciviously licked the two fingers he had touched me with, before lifting me onto his lap. The only signs I had of his desire were the tightness of his arms holding me in a stronghold, and the length of him pushed against my ass

“What a sweet dessert.” The cool distance in his tone made me tremble with heated arousal. “So Carys, before you got so horny that you couldn’t have a conversation,” I closed my eyes and trembled “ - well, that worked out well. You responded to the little gentle ways I was dominating you. Now, I want you to take off your clothes and sit down across from me, and I’ll ask you some questions.”

I was on autopilot, so fucking horny and wanting him so badly that I obeyed without a second thought. I stood up as he released me, and stripped off the sweater and skirt. Then the pale icy blue lacy bra and panties. He eyed my figure with care and appraisal, and the way he studied me told me he liked what he saw.

“Now sit down, on your knees, and open your legs for me.” I flushed again, red at the thought of how hard my smallish pink nipples were, and because I was dripping onto his sofa.

“Good girl.” A lovely, warm feeling flowed through me, and I smiled at him.

“Do you like being a good girl for me?”

“Yes, I don’t understand why it felt so good when you said that.” I knew I liked him a lot and felt very comfortable around him, but my candor still felt surprisingly easy.

“Hm. You’re so naturally submissive. It feels good because you’re enjoying submitting to me, the way you’ve obeyed me tonight, and you want praise for doing so. You’ve never done anything like this before?”

“No. How are you so calm?”

“I like control, Carys. That’s what I meant when I said I was kinky. In the sex parts of a relationship, of course. And with your consent and full awareness. Not with the manipulation and harm to you that an abuser would use. And with control, whereas an abuser is out of control. For this type of pleasure that you’re clearly enjoying. I can see how wet you’re making my sofa.” His gaze focused between my legs, where I was dripping with the thought of being controlled.

“Would you like it if I called you a slut? Because you’re drenched right now.” I shifted on my folded knees, opening my thighs wider for him. “Well, your body and horny pussy answered for you. I had this idea. And it’s a pretty wild one. You know how we haven’t been able to hang out too much, because the startup is keeping me busy?” I nodded. “Well, once we finish raising this round, I’ll have more time. Three weeks. In that time, I’d like to train you to be a very good, pleasing submissive. If you please me, I’ll fuck you.”

“What - what will I have to do?”

“I’ll send you things to read and videos to watch at home. I want to train you to take a throat fucking and suck cock like the slut you’re aching to be, for example. This means watching the videos, and taking dildos down your throat. You’ll come here two nights a week, Mondays and Wednesdays, and I’ll leave you written instructions. I’ll be in my home office, here, those nights, and you’ll be here, outside of the office. I’ll set up old school camcorders to make sure you finish your lesson. And you’ll only orgasm when I tell you it’s okay for you to orgasm or touch yourself.”

“A guy I dated for a couple months said I was submissive, too, and that it wasn’t his thing. How do you know? What am I doing?”

“You like it when I take control, I get the impression that you’re drawn to me when I do. When I met you, you relaxed when I took charge of getting coffee with you. Even when it’s something like…I tell you to pick the restaurant. And tonight, when I was telling you what to do, when I was calm, cold, controlled…you’re responding to that. Sexually. You didn’t answer my question. Do you want to be trained to be a slutty submissive for me?”

I thought about that. About being alone in this lovely house, maybe naked, while sucking a fake cock while he recorded it. I imagined him watching me after, getting hard and maybe touching himself...it was one of the hottest things I could imagine myself doing. And the thought of arousing him with it...I sighed, because I could feel myself making an even bigger mess of his sofa.

“And I’ll learn about what kinky and submissive mean, in more detail, through this training?”

“You will.”

“Yes. I want to do it."