Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

"So you really don't have much problem with standing in front of that group?"

She grinned and shook her head and talked about how she spent a lot of time faking it until she made it and knew her work was pretty good to begin with. I couldn't keep from picturing her standing in front of a different crowd of people, nearly naked, small blood trails forming on her back, the pulley lifting so that she was lifted by her flesh and suspended. I pictured her in other ways, pictured her tied with more bondage so that she was helpless, imagined her shivering with a lot more fear in her eyes. Her arms had been free and the atmosphere had been relaxed with her hook suspension. What if it was a different atmosphere? What if she was more terrified, so I could make her cry?

That thought made me swallow. It was the first time I'd thought of myself in it, if I'm honest, and at first I didn't even realize it. It was something I didn't think I'd actually done before Lily, you see. I read stories, I had fantasies, but they were most often about tormenting and degrading a girl who wasn't even a specific girl and the fantasies didn't have me doing it, even if I focused on the sadistic aspect the most. I just pictured a different person and got off on the thoughts.

Until that date, when the little demon across from me gave me so much inspiration just by existing.

See the start of the pattern? I went home that night and read more, abusing the hell out of the "extreme", "hardcore", "humiliation", and "BDSM" tags for stories. My sex drive went into overload and I had always been curious enough, but now I got even worse, somehow. Lily would post new pictures and I would want more. She posted everything that could have ever taunted me, too, pictures of herself in stocks and heavy bondage. She posted pictures where she wore clover clamps with weights on them, where she was tightly bound as if being forced to suffer the hardcore pain. One time she posted pictures of herself tied up with a dildo stuffed in every hole in her body - the one in her mouth connected to a pump even while the rest of her face was covered in latex - and filthy, degrading words written in marker all over her. She asked me out to eat after that one and all I could think of was how the word "fuckmeat" was probably still written on her thigh, the word "cuntslut" was on her tits.

She grinned when I told her the only night of the week I was busy was on Saturdays because I was part of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign. And the great thing about Lily, one of the many wonderful things, was that she wasn't too cool for anything. She knew all about it, too. "Let's see, let me guess. Don't tell me! A rogue?"

I shook my head, smiling and feeling a little shy about it. But the shyness was fast fading when she kept going about how I definitely wasn't a wizard type because AoE hurt too many teammates and I seemed too mindful of that kind of thing. She made me laugh when she got it on the second guess. "A ranger!"

The word "Cockwhore" was on her stomach. Lower down, it said "fuckhole" with an arrow pointing between her legs.

"One of the first games I ever played was with three players who all wanted to be casters," I said softly.

She choked on her laughter and I smiled absently, thinking about how she'd had another set of photos where two other girls had squirted cum in a measuring cup. They'd had Lily between them, her sweet face covered in more humiliation latex while they poured what was in the cup down a funnel into her mouth and she'd looked so perfectly filthy. One of the girls had caned her clit in some kind of punishment after that. I liked to imagine them hurting her while telling her she wasn't being a loud enough little worthless bitch for them when they were so kindly feeding her all that cum.

Another time she sat across from me and asked me about the video games I liked, if I liked them, and Lily was clever with these questions. She'd realized the Dungeons and Dragons thing and asked about the logical correlation: other games. I smiled. "Yeah. Mostly single player ones, like Outerworlds and Borderlands."

She grinned, feigning surprise in that charming way she had. "No, wait! You mean you're not an ultra competitive battle royale streamer?" We were so opposite. She had these pink nails all done up with glitter and I wore jeans and a t-shirt because I didn't have to care when I worked IT. I thought about the fact that a lot of other people must have fantasized about Lily Lofton... and wondered why I wasn't having the normal kind of fantasies.

I was thinking other things, like how the night before she'd put up pictures of herself in more latex, a full body suit of it, one of those frames that cast the body in tight immobility and had a breathing tube because she'd been so strictly bound, her large tits emphasized. Her dominatrix friend had licked and fingered the breathing tube in this perverse way...

I shook my head. "Can't claim to be the competitive or streaming type, no."

After each of these, I would end up at home for the night, reading and fantasizing about her being in the twisted things I read about. It was worse that way, too, to place her in the thoughts, to think of directly doing these things to her. It wasn't just thoughts of her either. I'd think of her with another girl, but I always imagined Lily as my degradation slut. For instance, I'd think of coming in the other girl and then think of making Lily lick and suck what I'd left out of her pussy. I'd think of calling her a horny little fucktoy, of writing it on her tits so she could wear it to work. I watched slave head shaving videos and imagined Lily in tears.

Some of it was realistic. Some of it definitely wasn't. All of it was cruel and sadistic, though. It felt like this build there at the beginning, when we were first talking and she didn't pay attention to this follower named Shere Khan for her fetish page. I knew and she didn't know that and I kind of wondered where she'd lead me. I didn't generally prefer the lead in anything in life, especially not relationships, but I got a little more bold as we talked.

She asked me about books after a few more weeks and the night before, she'd been tied to a table with a speculum in her pussy and her asshole. Both had been gaped obscenely wide while someone stood over her and fucked a cock down her throat, one that was connected to a wooden pole so the person didn't even have to bend down. Her head had been covered in a leather partial dog hood with an open ring gag in her mouth to force her to take it... "Okay, so what are you reading right now, for instance?"

I hesitated and then I told her the truth. "Kushiel's Dart is the name of it. By Jacqueline Carey."

She laughed happily. "Damn it, I don't know that one. What's it like?"

I smiled because I had a feeling she'd really like it, but I didn't say that. "It's really great. I'm not far into it, but it has thought out world building, which is always a bonus in epic fantasy." World building. That was what I was going with.

She grinned. "World building." She said it as if mirroring my thoughts and I ran a hand through my hair, even though she wasn't being mean by saying it, only thoughtfully considering. "That's fair, but leads to another question, then. Are you one of those people who like epics like Wheel of Time?"

I took a drink of beer, smiling again. She didn't know it, but confessing the book I was reading at the moment was something I thought I'd only tell her. She was the first person I'd met and gotten close to, that I directly knew of, who was kinky. That also made her the first person who I might even consider opening up to, talking to. It was the kind of thing I didn't dare hope for too much. Everyone would talk about everything online, but directly getting to talk to someone about things like that? It wasn't the kind of thing you got your hopes up for, you know? Especially if you were an introvert.

I thought of her being forced to take a huge, painfully ridged dildo, thought of the way her pussy had looked spreading with the transparent speculum and thought of her lifted against her restraints in pain when the toy was forced inch by inch, a toy larger than a man's fist. I didn't bring up the book again.

"I love Wheel of Time. I thought Sanderson did really well finishing it, too."

I masturbated to another of the unrealistic stories, going a little bit crazy. It was one where the Master conditioned - er, brainwashed, actually - his slave to associate having her tits tortured with his loving her, while he called her a filthy fucking slut who deserved it. She started to beg for it and all I could think of was Lily and her pictures and how great she was as a person, which made me feel a little bad when I thought about her tits and how large they were for her size instead. God, it was messed up and I know that, but every story was making me crazier and I was inspired by the galleries of pictures of Lily. And I wasn't psychotic, nothing like that. I know there's differences in fantasy and reality and I know some of the stuff I read was twisted and evil. Hell, I had spent half my life wondering what was wrong with me. So you might wonder, "why tell the gory details?"

Because, well, Lily. I couldn't keep from wondering how she was the way she was! You see, she was so happy, so loved, and so sunny. She played these dark fantasy games wherever she went to and she was no saint, but when she was outside, no one would have known. Actually, she was even more cheerful than most people who condemn those kinds of depravity. She was just so basically self accepting in some way. I read these stories that messed with me and couldn't figure out why the hell I was the way I was. It was Lily who made me wonder about the possibility of being not so bad. How did you reach that level of acceptance? How did she go home and not have problems when she looked in the mirror? She spent nights being called names and being abused and she just went home and was totally okay with it? She didn't let the names get to her or anything? I didn't totally understand, but I really wanted to.

Beyond that, well... I thought about all the times she'd teased me for choosing a Ranger in my campaign and had to smile. Because it made me feel like a high schooler to think the words, but I was pretty sure I had a crush on Lily.

And that dowel rod? It just needed a little more stress, the smallest push.

————

Lily

Even at that point, I actually had no idea that anyone had even referenced my fetish page. The loudmouthed person who posted the comment to tease me about it had apparently taken it down about ten minutes after, realizing that maybe they shouldn't put up that much info (like an idiot), and I never even saw it, but that leads to... Okay, maybe I should explain a little of my secret life, or try to.

You know how everyone has that hidden shadow self, if you believe in Jungian psychology? For me, I felt like I was made up by a lot of my shadow self. That dark side that craved pain, that got off on being hurt and degraded and humiliated in ways to shock some sensibilities felt like the larger part of who I was. The good side felt like a mask. The day after Alex told me about this book, for instance, I liked my boots and a fluffy zebra backpack and the color pink. I was happy Lily, the one everyone adored. I was good girl Lily, the redhead that always behaved herself.

But I also had a date that night. Not a date-date. I mean that I had plans and those plans involved getting to indulge in play piercing. Just the thought of the terror when the needles pierced my back made me shiver in delicious anticipation, made me smile more sweetly than ever so that people loved the happy Lily all the more. Things that would make me mad otherwise were things I let go because I would think of the sharp, singing pain and release, the way the blood would well sometimes. Just the knowledge that I was going to indulge made me deal with the rest of life better.

I've never been very good at describing masochism or why it makes life so much more for me, but I can try! You see, there's an adrenaline rush that follows the hot sensation of sharp pain, but it's more than that too because even before that there's a build of human instinct, of fear. Nature tells us to run from pain, to avoid it, and it gives us incentive to do that with things like fear. But if you force yourself through the fear? If you wait for the sharp crack of the cane or if you go tense with anticipation for the pierce of the needle? There's a split second of baited breath that's like waiting at the top of a roller coaster and, if you've been terrified of heights at the top of one of those, you probably know that sensation of staring into an eternity for one second. And then it's over. For the roller coaster, you drop.

For the pain, it hits like a hot blast and you have to breathe through it, have to endure it. Every time feels like this challenge, too! It feels like something to take, not something that's just easy to coast through. It feels like a trial and a triumph and then there's just the aftershocks of bliss and giddiness. I love pain. I don't know why. All I know is that I was born with this addiction to feel thrill and, sure, things like skydiving would work, but pain is readily available, I've learned. And you can do it safely, if you're careful and you know what you're doing.

It took me time, but I had learned when it was okay to be my darker side around people because there for a while I hadn't wanted to put my mask back on. I had wanted to just be that side of me all the time, but I had figured out that I couldn't do that. So I made sure I could indulge all I liked, without getting myself killed in the process, and I kept my shadow self close to my heart because I loved her. It's a big part of that Jungian philosophy that you embrace the dark side and I had. I don't know if it works for everything, but it worked to make my life all the more exhilarating to do it.

So now, I was just happy all the time. I started to see these moments as the good Lily as Halloween moments, like playing a game. I was a maso slut in good girl office clothing, a good girl who wasn't good, a happy girl who was sinful as hell. The only downside was that people didn't like me anymore once they got closer to me. The kinky people were definitely the most accepting, but even they thought I was too much to ever date. The Sadists and Doms in Sulfur's fetish club had all mostly figured themselves out and everyone has hard limits, you know? Which is good! They should. The trouble was I didn't actually have many limits of my own and I didn't even really have specific fetishes either.

I was into the really dark things, the hard humiliation that would make me see stars with adrenaline and thrill. I'd done some things that I'd never thought I would be into because a sadist spun the scene the right way. That's how I got into watersports really hard for a while, actually. There was a guy who was into it and I was adventurous enough to try most things out, even if they made me a little wary, but sometimes people will do something just the right way. That first time trying piss play had been one of those times. He'd called me a foul fucking whore and told me I deserved it for being so goddamn dirty. It hadn't even been anything particularly violent, you know? It'd just been this wicked condescension and filthy thing and God, that was exactly what I was into. Being brought low, being brought to tears, being made to take something while being told I deserved it for how much of a bad fucking girl I was.

But that meant that I hadn't really found a sadist that fit well with me for some obvious reasons. I didn't have so many limits, so I had to be careful for a start. I also didn't dig on the high protocol domination and I was really submissive, definitely, but it was usually only a mindset I could keep hold of in the bedroom. I was too much of a flirt and I was a formulaic bundle for jealousy. There were all kinds of issues with my trying to date someone who might be into everything I wanted to do and try.

But I think the easiest way to describe the entirety of it is to say I had too much of a dual nature. I was submissive, except not always. I was happy-go-luck, except I was violent. I was the good girl stereotype at first sight.

I was anything but good.

————

He can always claim that I had hand in these breaking moments, by the by, but he had some play in it, too! His book, for instance.

I ended up buying his book about a week after he told me about it. I didn't always go out, believe it or not, and it had been a while since I'd read anything, an embarrassing amount of time. I sometimes didn't have a lot of time and I loved talking and flirting with people, but reading was just good for the soul. Sometimes it felt nice, even to my chaotic self, to start a bedtime routine where I'd just read a few chapters. Okay, that wasn't all of it either. If I'm being honest with you, I really liked Alex. He was calm and I wasn't. When I felt a little too excited or anxious, I could go down to his offices and find him for lunch and he always just let me guide the way while I prattled on and on. He never seemed like I stressed him out either, which was something I worried about since I seemed to stress out a lot of people by being high energy all the bloody time. And sometimes he had this dry sense of humor that was all the more funny because he was so shy about it. I just... I liked him.

So I remembered the book he mentioned and started reading it. It took a few nights before I got the context of the book and when it sank in the direction the content was taking, I remember jolting upright in bed, horny and excited. See, the place in the book was built on the ideology of "Love as thou wilt". That was the creed, but here's the really interesting part. The main character had a spot in her eye, one that marked her as belonging to a specific god of the world.

The god of punishment in a creed of "love as thou wilt".

I disappeared for a three day span, excepting work, and I finished the book in those three days. Once I reached a certain part, I just couldn't put it down. It was so good and it was kinky as hell. The involvement of things like gods made the atmosphere all the darker and the language of the book was almost flowery, which contrasted the content and made it stand out all the more. It wasn't light either. It had things like blood play, things like branding. It made my heart race, made me feel this nervous flutter in my stomach. It's true that I'm a hell of a masochist and I've played with some scary fucking people, but here's the thing you learn from something like BDSM.

Life is about contrasts. For instance, I've played with some sadists who will soothe their submissive with a soft kiss while they're hurting her and pressing her limits and that one kiss is enough. In the midst of all the violence and roughness, that one brush of softness seems like the most gentle thing in the world because of the contrast. Well, that goes backwards too and it goes for other things in life. Alex and I had been talking for a while by then and at first it had started out as my curiosity, but it had turned into something more. It turned into interest and this warm sensation of being near his calmness, of him just letting me talk myself out of all my pent up energy. But the thing is, in all that time of talking, not once had he mentioned anything vaguely sexual, not even to make a joke. He didn't even look at me the way some guys did, the way they'd stare at my tits or something. He was always nice, always easy going, and he never crossed that barrier.

And then he gave me a book and the contrast made me feel... it made me feel shy, almost nervous. It gave me butterflies. I bounced on my toes while waiting for him before lunch and I wasn't even planning on telling him I wanted to get that. I was planning on something else.