I walked into her apartment, skin still stinging from the cold outside, a stark contrast to the overheated interior of her home. We exchanged shy, almost awkward, greetings and I bent down to untie my boots. As my eyes fell to the floor I momentary stole a look at her, mostly seen in peripherals as my vision landed on my boots. Shoulder length dirty brown (a touch of amber?) hair framed her delicate facial features. Large dark orbs caught every ounce of light in that dimly-lit entranceway and condensed it, forced into down into a pinprick of brilliance that erupted from the infinite blackness of her eyes. Standing in stark contrast to the pale, creamy, skin. For all the black and whites of her facial features, her lips softly screamed of color. Warm and naturally pink, thin yet plush lines that spilled life from the otherwise picturesque image of her face. My slightly numbed fingers were clumsy with the laces of my boots, and I was deprived the sight of her for too long. Finally, my gaze climbed her. Thin feet, left toes turned slightly inward. Right leg crossed below the knee, resting its weight on only the toes. The foot itself seemed arched, as if supported by an invisible heel, highlighting the curve of her leg, and how that leg climbed! Knee gave way to rounded thigh, which seemed to burst from barely visible black shorts. Her figure was obscured from the small, yet oversized on her, loose-fitting knitted beige sweater, which also ran past the fingers of her left arm. Her right arm raised to her mouth, as if nervously nibbling on her thumbnail. The dark pools of her eyes had frozen over in the time it took me to take off my boots and jacket, and for her to assume that obviously rehearsed pose.

"Please, come in” She said softly, taking two steps back. Her movement made me aware of the entranceway expanding into a large, sparsely furnished, living room. To the left, the room deepened to contain a L-shaped couch covered in blankets and pillows. On the right, a long yet thin cubby-style wall unit that contained a few sparse knick-knacks. The wall opposite the couch held a mounted television, youtube video paused. 

"Would you like some water?” the words pulled me back to her, but she had already disappeared into the kitchen though a door I had failed to notice earlier. 

"Please” I respond absently as I went back to the study of her space. Uncovered hardwood floors protested with each step I took as I slowly circled the room, noticing the tightly-drawn curtains, the bundle of canvas paintings leaning on the far wall, the short hallway leading to a dark room, the outline of a large, soft, bed visible in the varying levels of shadow. The floors announced her approach and I turned to meet an extended jar of water. 

"Thank you” I took it from her, raised it in salute, and continued...

"Also, thank you for having me over. I was a little surprised by the invitation”. 

"Were you now?” she responded quickly, as if in challenge or defense at being challenged. I let my features relax into a lazy playful expression, my lips pulling into a crooked smile.

"I was, not everyone is so brave as to invite a person into their home without meeting publicly first”.  At this she withdrew, ever so slightly, within herself. Her body language changed, shoulders pulled together, head lowered, arms folded before her. Another clearly rehearsed pose, designed to make her look small, fragile, in need of protection... Like prey.

"But we know each other, kind of, I feel like I know you... We have past connections... And, you were so open” I couldn’t tell if she is responding to me or reassuring herself, I’m still not sure if she could either.

“We had mutual connections, people that were close to each of us. However, I am not the person now that I was then...” as I spoke my grin turned predatory “And they never knew me in this way”. Nothing of her posture changed, she stood, seemingly, as relaxed as a moment before, but her eyes looked up at me with a genuine insecurity seeping from the newly formed cracks in her frozen shield. 

“You told me what you were” she hesitated “and I’m ok with that, I trust you to... I trust you”.

“So, what am I?” I ask, ever curious for insight.

“Dominant, a Dom? You like reactions... You, like to cause pain... I can take it, I want you to use me, I’ll be a good girl... I promise” Watching her stumble through the sentence, seeing the blood rush to her face causing her to brighten with color, savoring every, long, delectable, pause... I raised my hand to her cheek, running my fingers over her and taking note of her softness. I pulled back to tuck the hair behind her ear and she pulled back ever so slightly, withdrew as if I had just exposed her completely. I took the opportunity to once again run my fingers over her, cupping her cheek in my palm, and raised her face so she could not avoid looking into my eyes.

“It is not so simple... It is never so simple” I said while adding warmth to my smile, to reassure her, relax her, set her at ease. I held here there for a long silent moment and watched her eyes begin to thaw. I took pride in her ease, at being able to ease her, to be the reassuring presence that we do not all get and, before I extended the moment too long, I removed my hand to once again leave her free to move about the room.

“I do like reaction, but I want more... I want to take the time to learn you. To touch and taste and feel and breath you in, to hold you in my lungs and know you with every sense. I want to test your body, see how you react to my words, my presence, my touch. Does it give you pleasure when I touch you there? What about there? How about when I touch you like this? How do you react when my fingers trace your body, memorizing every curve and contour, discovering every peak and valley? What do you feel when my fingers dig into your skin? When my nails bite into you? Or when I sink my teeth into your flesh to taste you? I want to learn you. Every way I can give you pleasure, and every way I can challenge you. Everything that reassures and comforts you, and every way I can challenge you. I want to know what makes your blood boil, and what your limits are. I want to file it all away, every detail of you. Of who you are, what you like, what you want, what provokes you, what motivates you, what are your passions, thoughts, dreams, nightmares? Then, once I’ve studied you as thoroughly as I am able, I want to combine elements to see how you react to two things you like, or dislike, three, four, five? I want to take all our experiences and use them to take you further, higher, make every encounter more. I want to pin you right up against your limits and, gently, lovingly, with care... Push. Not recklessly, nor without caution. I want to teach you that you have no limits. That you are capable of anything. You are stronger, smarter, and more able than you realize. I want you to look in the mirror and see what I see... A fucking incredible person who is strong enough to give herself over to the pleasure of another, not everyone can do this. I couldn’t. So, instead I’ll always try to be worthy of your gift, the gift of you. I’ll try to be a person worth giving yourself to”. 

What had begun as an attempt to explain my motivations to her, changed. As words spewed from my lips and I began speaking less to her and more to myself, looking within. A myriad of still-frame images flashed though my head; my hand tightened around her wrist, her head forced back at a painful angle with my fingers tangled in her hair, her eyes looking up at me the moment before she takes me in herself. At the thought of that I was ripped back to reality, the abruptness of it surprised me and it took a moment to absorb the scene before me. 

Her eyes were locked on my own, they seemed three times larger than they had before. The expression in them was sublime, an inseparable blend of relaxation, satisfaction, caution, and the complete awareness of the moment one only sees in an animal trying to evade a predator. Her lips worked soundlessly, forming words that were lost upon me. Her face no longer reflected the picturesque image from before, rather it was an explosion of colors. Starting pink, then red, deepening to an almost wine shade. I loosened the pressure from her neck (when had I grabbed her?) before her lips went blue and watched her breathing deepen and body sag, ever so slightly, my arm wrapped about her waist to pull her closer and provide support. We stood there, her leaning into me with her head resting against my chest and I holding her firmly until she regained herself and looked up at me. Every trace of ice had vanished from her eyes, now they seemed to simmer just on the edge of boiling. 

“May I?” I asked so softly the words would have vanished in any space between us. Luckily, there was none. Her gaze stayed locked on my own, a doe cautiously watching the wolf, and she slowly nodded. I uncoiled my arm from her waist, placed my hands on her hips, and forced her to take two steps back. 

“Undress.” Our eyes stayed staring into each other and I saw a moment of venerability, genuine, unrehearsed venerability. It made me want to gently hold her close and smother her in my affection. To erase whatever, whoever, had crept into her head to place insecurity there. I wanted her to be able to see herself as I see her. I thirst for the sight of her, hunger for the feel of her, and am nourished by her presence. It is ludicrous to me that such a creature should be insecure about her body. This, I decided, is something I will have to correct.

Her hands slid down her sides, pulling the loose sweater tight and giving me a peek at her hourglass figure, hands spread to hold the sleeves from overtaking them. Then, just the tips of her fingers came to rest on the skin of her thigh. They stayed there no more than half a second but it felt like hours before the turned upward, sneaking under the knitted fabric. As she searched for the waistband of her shorts the sweater was pulled up at its sides, revealing the luscious curve of her hips but forcing the sweater to bunch in front of her. Her thumbs hooked the band and, slowly, intentionally, and without us ever breaking eye contact, she slid them down, bending at the waist so as to emphasize the endless distance they were forced to travel to reach the floor. With her shorts and underwear still around her ankles she straightened, gliding the tips of her fingers back up the endlessness of her legs. Her eyes turned playful as she hesitated, fingers tucked into the bottom of her sweater. She tugged up three times raising the fabric, and her shaped eyebrows a little higher each time. She paused after that, as if gaining courage, and in a single, sinuous, movement lifted the material off of herself. It fell to the floor beside her, forgotten by us both, and she stepped forward, out of her shorts and underwear, to stand before me.

My eyes drank deeply. If the skin of her face and legs were cream her torso was pure as an unbroken snowfall. The gentle curve of her neck gave way to pronounced collarbones, following those led me to the smooth curve of her shoulders. For all the gentle, almost dainty, appearance of them, they had clearly carried the weight of her experiences. Yet she stood firm, tall, unbroken by these events. They had tried to crush her, yet the steel in her had remained. My thoughts were pulled back as she locked the fingers of her hands together before her, as if attempting to conceal this most private area from me. However, my eyes ran up her arms, not down, and saw two wonderfully rounded breasts. Here the snowfall was broken by two wonderfully pink, dollar-sized, nipples. They had been woken from their slumber by the sensation of fabric running over them and there they stood. My tongue and lips ached to touch them, taste them. My teeth itched from desire to squeeze them and observe how she reacted. How would she flinch? What sounds would she make? How sensitive is she and how much can I push?

“Say something...” She was barely audible. 

“Shhhhhhh” I motioned her to silence. 

“I’m enjoying my view” I said with a grin, baring my teeth, allowing part of the predator within me to be seen. She saw it too, how despite the reassurance in my smile, warmth never touched my eyes. They remained hungry, focused on her. I glided forward, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat, once again holding her captive with my eyes. This close I could feel the warmth of her breath hitting my chest, yet still she felt too far away. I raised both my hands to the sides of her face and explored the contours of her features with my index fingers, mirroring speed and force on each side. It started with tucking her hair back behind her ears, then with both fingers touching the center of her forehead, just below the hairline I traced outward. My fingers cut down just in front of her ears to dance along her delicate but pronounced jawline, just as they met at her chin my middle fingers jumped to her brow line, following the curves of her face they rounded her eyes to meet back at the bridge of her nose. The dark pools of her eyes were lost to me at that time, and it felt like I had been cut off from my only source of nourishment. I felt abandoned and alone, drowning in my desire for her, but as my fingers found the tip of her nose, her eyes shot open again. Renewed, refreshed, the calm surface of them only highlighted the tremendous current beneath and I was swallowed by it. She consumed me then and there, I ceased to exist and only my hunger remained.

My hands wrapped around her throat, fingers slightly interlocking at the back of her thin neck with my thumbs pushing into the underside of her jaw, wordlessly telling her I wanted her to keep looking into my eyes. Her head angled back and I bore into her with my stare, recording everything I could see in her. I moved my thumbs to the sides of her neck, unlocked my fingers, and in one swift, firm, and very intentional movement, I dug my thumbnails into either side of her neck and slid down her sides, leaving angry red lines as I went. Her jaw clenched and I heard a sharp intake of air, her eyes took on such a venerable and fragile look, and she trembled with the explosion of sensation. Down her neck, over her collarbones, and falling over the sides of her shoulders like a waterfall gaining momentum. As I approached her wrists my hands uncoiled to close about them, firmly, not with the intent to cause pain, although it did cause a little. I felt her pulse as my hands enveloped her, it sped, making me think of a hare fleeing for its life. However, she moved not a muscle, only watched me with those exposed, luminous, orbs. No fear, no anger, no panic at potentially being devoured. Only acceptance, desire, eagerness to nourish another and be appreciated for it. This was not a hunt, it was a sacrifice. She wanted, needed, to be wanted, taken, used. Not by just anyone, people had used, and hurt, her before. They had left her feeling empty because every bite they took, they took for themselves and without love or appreciation for her. It was then I became aware that as I watched her eyes, feeding on her reactions, she studied me. Watching my intent, my hunger, evaluating how I responded to her responses. This was not a rabbit fleeing for its life, but one poised and ready to kick should she be mistreated. My respect and desire for her grew.  

My fingers tightened periodically about her wrists, in a throbbing manner but increasing in strength with each pulse. At the same time, I slowly turned her, guided her with my body but held her with my eyes, so her back faced the couch. Then I squeezed, actually squeezed her, tiny, fragile seeming, wrists groaned as bone grinded on bone. The break of pattern and difference of intensity took her by surprise and she flinched in pain. Her eyes dropped to her wrists for a split second, but it was all the time I needed. My right hand flew from her wrist to close firmly about her neck, not making an impact with her; it conformed to her throat, feeling more like a support, or lost protection, that had found its way back. Meanwhile, my left arm coiled about her waist. As my left arm pulled her toward me, my right lifted her and pushed her further from me. Lifting her off the ground and grinding her into me as her legs instinctively wrapped around me. We stayed there for a long moment, locked together, her suspended by me and I enthralled by her. Slowly, I stepped forward and lowered her to a slouching position on the couch, her tailbone barley on the edge of the cushion and neck craned to a ninety-degree angle as the back of the couch forced it up. I felt her legs unlock behind me and loosened my left arm from under her to bring it back and grip her left ankle. I guided it out beside her and planted her heel into the lip of the couch. Smoothly, patiently, taking my time, I switched hands on her neck and used my newly freed hand to place her right leg in the same position. I loosened my grip from her, stood, and backstepped a few feet to admire the view. 

There she lay, body contorted into an unnaturally awkward pose that left her completely exposed to me. Dark eyes venerable and watching me through her spread legs. I waited long enough to see her start to make little, self-conscious, movements and then I allowed my eyes to fall between her legs, and made sure she saw it. I was guided by a small runway of neatly trimmed dark hair that led me to a glistening pink slit, lips already beginning to engorge as she leaked on to herself. I took a moment to watch her, opened to me, allowing herself to be opened for me, and I was overcome with the beauty of her, by the strength of her. 

My gaze rose to meet hers once again and I smiled, smirked playfully, before stepping towards her. Lowering myself to my knees on the floor before her I leaned into her, my chest between her legs I could feel her warmth on me even through my shirt. The fingers of my left hand gently ran up her leg as my right closed about the back of her neck. I rose her, gently, as I leaned further in to meet her lips. She parted them for me and we tentatively kissed each other, lips uncertain of the other, testing, tasting, probing, learning each other and how we move, how we come together. As we gained confidence our kissing become progressively more passionate, lips spreading further, tongues darting out to lightly brush up against one another, more and more, deeper and deeper. What started out shy and hesitant evolved into a passion, hunger, for each other. Mouths opened as much as our jaw would allow, tongues dancing, wrestling, in her mouth, my mouth, between us. There was no more telling where she began and I ended. Time, as we measure it, ceased to exist and there was only her. Eyes, lips, tongue, consuming me just as I consumed her. Desire, passion, affection, lust, pulling us closer to each other. Her arms wrapped about my neck and shoulders, hands reading me like braille, and legs locked about my waist as she grinded her pelvis into my abdomen. 

Light moans vibrated in her chest, pressed against my own so tightly it was hard to distinguish from whom the sound and feeling originated. They climbed through her neck, tickling my hand which studied the shape of her, the feel of her, and slid from her lips. However, with nowhere to escape they passed from her lips to mine and disappeared down my throat, one more part of her consumed by me.

“Please” she stammered breathlessly, “Please fuck me”. I pulled back to admire her disheveled appearance. 

“Not yet” I chided her “I want to taste you”. My eyes playful, smirk once again plastered on my face. I reached back with both hands to unlock her legs from me and replant them on her sides, once again leaving her awkward and exposed yet this time too full of need to even spare a thought as to her humility. Her lips were swollen and mashed together from the relentless grinding against me. I looked down at my shirt to notice her smeared all over me. At that she had the presence to look abashed.

“Do not be embarrassed, this is a compliment” I smiled as I pulled my shirt over my head and discarded it somewhere beside me on the floor.

“Allow me to thank you properly for it”