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A buddy gave me his smartphone number weeks ago. "Call him. Just call him," she said. I’d stopped dating. It wasn’t the guys. Well, maybe a little. "Look, I’m over ‘relationships’ for the moment. I just want to be by myself for awhile. That’s all." My buddy shrugged. "Call him," she said again. I was the youngest of trio girls. Getting taller up, I’d watched my and their man friends. Awkward kisses in the barn. Palms groping, shoveled away, more groping. I had dreams, murky images in my head. And I’d groped with myself some nights, unsatisfied, my groping enlargening my longing. Like pricks were doing now. Oh, I’d had lots of pricks the last few years, phat ones, small ones. pricks that were hair-trigger, and pricks that had to be coaxed. pricks that luved your basic fuck, and pricks that dreamed anything but your basic fuck. And I’d lie in couch later with every one of those pricks (never guys, or men, just cocks), damp, salty, from time to time groping in the dark after they started snoring, and I dreamed more, less, nothing, everything. I dreamed something I couldn’t admit to myself. I dreamed and wanted, but I was afraid. "Call him," my buddy said. It was the invented lying in the dark that stopped me from calling, and the odor of supposed love, and the emptiness, the loneliness, the unhappiness that was always worse after it was over. I was groping in the dark. When I finally made the call, he told me to come alone and to wear a micro-skirt and blouse. No underwear. My Palms shook. I shaven everything that night. Everything but my head. I pushed a stool in front of the mirror and sat in it, naked. I touched myself, my gams opened up and soles resting against the wall on either side of the mirror. I explored each fold of my vag and cunt, then touched my thumbs to my mouth, degustating myself. And I groped my breasts, watching, playing with my puffies until they hardened. I slid my thumbs in and out of myself, the thumbs of one mitt in my asshole, the thumbs of the other in my cunt. And all the while, I watched. I was a stranger to myself. I was nobody I’d ever met before. The first thing he did that night was to truss me arched over a cage. Some other nymph was locked inside of it. "You think I’m going to tear up you?" he said, bending close, but not kneading me. "Only if you’re lucky." And he cocked his head, his eyes sad, as however he pitied me. "Don’t worry." He sneered then, but it made me shiver. "I’m only going to hurt you a little." I dreamed to say something sexy. I dreamed to make him want me. I dreamed to do all the things I’d learned thru the years, the way a nymph takes control. But I couldn’t. I was falling. I was out of control. I was breaking into pieces. He sneered because he knew everything the moment he witnessed me. He’d watched my eyes stroll once he’d unlocked the door to his "special room" and led me inside. The walls were coated with straps, ropes, chain, shackles. My assets was on fire. That night he cut my outfit off me. He shackled me to a iron bar. He locked a mighty steel neck corset on my neck. Chain inbetween my legs, around my breasts. iron in my mouth, my ass. iron clothespins clipping my nipples. And later, electro-hitachi in my cunt. He spread me out spread-eagle, lying on my back. He packaged leather around my neck and tightened. He cut off my air. He made me come over and over. After he was done with me and let me loose, I kneeled in front of him and smooched his boots. He put a thinner neck corset on my neck and locked it in place. "You’ll do everything I say. When I call, you’ll come immediately." I gawped at the floor. "Yes sir." "You’re mine now." I shivered, not from cold, but from something else, something new, an electricity. For the first time, I wasn’t groping in the dark anymore. "Yes sir."