Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

He pulled his head back from where he'd been cuddling me and gave me a flat look. "Lily, I feel like you could damn well do whatever you wanted right now."

Which made me giggle. He had that dry tone of voice again, the one that was only made more intriguing by how gentle his eyes were, whenever he was being funny. "Okay. One second." I stood up off his lap.

And curled up on the floor at his knees instead, so that he tilted his head and stared down at me, as if taking the sight in. Let me try to explain an idea that a lot of people starting out need help with, especially if one partner is into submitting and wants to engage the other partner. Power exchange is a two way street. There are a lot of people who make the mistake of agreeing to a scene, when they're trying things out, and then they'll break the scene halfway through with a new Dom. It's the kind of thing that they just don't think about because they're not used to playing or not used to the rules, but for a sub to do it to a Dom is a cruel thing to do. You see, when you've agreed to give up control and then you break the agreement or just step out of the atmosphere, you rip the rug out from under their feet, so to speak, and it's doubly true if they're new at things. They're trying to figure you out, figure out what makes you aroused, what hurts if you're into that, what goes well with different types of erotic pain. They're figuring out commands and how you like them and what you react to and then suddenly you just break it?

Most Doms I've ever met were pretty much done once you did that. They didn't want to play anymore because the game wasn't fun anymore. It just feels damned stressful after that, where they'll wonder if you're going to follow the rules or not once they're set.

That also means that if you give up a little control or if you create a small bit of power imbalance to someone who wants to be part of it, they'll take the chance. I rested my head on his knee and I started a routine that... Well, I wasn't really aware of the monster I was making with doing that actually. I was just a natural submissive and masochist and I wanted to make him more comfortable, make him happier, make him not feel alone and not feel guilty because everyone on both sides of it feels guilt or self shame, it seems. I like making people happy and I really liked him. We got along well with each other, you know? Two opposites, sure, but he never minded when I took over random things like where we sat at a restaurant, never started arguments about stupid things which was awesome. I'm really absentminded and I'll just decide those things while talking about something I'm excited about, so the formula was there. He liked me, I liked him, and he seemed like he wanted to play. I knew all kinds of games to play. So all I did was all I had to do.

I just talked with him, calmly. My way of thinking was that there was a major religion centered on the idea that a snake once just talked with the first female and made a suggestion and now we're all plunged into freaking chaos, so it had to have some power. And for the first little bit, I just talked about the basics, things like domination in general, and I figured him out on a different level. I had a few months of interactions to go off of, months that gave me an understanding on subjects that made him talk more, on things that made him the most curious, and the answer to both of those was the psychology involved in anything, the mental engagement, which made absolute sense, by the way. He liked things like Neal Stephenson and theory studies.

"I can share a book with you, too," I remember telling him, starting nice and easy.

He was leaning forward to hold me while sitting over me because I think he really liked being that way. "I can't claim that one is a usual one, actually. I... can mostly only do fantasy books."

I took a break to talk about that, too, because I didn't want him to get too nervous over talking about the other pieces, over how he sat over me. I didn't want to leave him with any doubts about how I liked what he'd done in those light play ways. That first night, I just talked enough to make sure he'd be okay because I didn't want to outright shock any sensibilities. I might have gone down the masochism line pretty quickly, but even I don't just start out with shit like tit torture. Doesn't work like that. So I went slow and I started a routine of asking him to come over for more talks at nights after work. This was something that definitely took time at the beginning.

Eventually, I managed to get him to talk about domination. Somewhere along talking about what interested him about it, after he finally told me that too, he started petting my hair, as if it comforted him when he was discussing these ideas. It made me grin, made me nuzzle closer.

Perseverance really does pay off, as it turns out. I didn't know it, but I was looking up at a masochist's goldmine. After even just that first night, I had to stop and take a breath once I was done kissing him goodbye, had to lean against my wall and whimper in a kind of pain. I was so freaking aroused just from talking about these things with someone. Most of the people I had ever met anymore already knew all of where they stood. They'd gone through that discovery or they already had someone showing them. It was this exciting thought of possibility that made it so freaking arousing, the mystery and questions. He'd liked choking me. What else did he like? What was he into? How hard did he like it? What was more, there was how amazingly submissive he was to everyone else and even with the kiss, I'd had to start that, but then there had been this excitement in his eyes. I think if I tried to claim innocence and say that I just wanted to help him out, I'd be a fucking liar. That excitement I had seen meant that I was being absolutely selfish and talking to him with the intent of getting him to play. With me. It was just a look that made me grin, made me have butterflies again. It was something about the contrast again, I guessed, something about the thought of light signs of sadism in someone quiet. It was like...

You know how epic fantasies have this archetype of a quiet antihero or hero? They keep to themselves usually and they don't talk a lot and when they get in trouble for whatever plot reason, they bow their head and they go with whatever someone else decides because they don't see a reason to reach for any violence and they prefer the calm. But then something happens and they have a reason and it makes that moment of their violence all the more of a "holy shit!" moment. Even when it's over the character might be back to calm and patience, but now you know as the reader and you know what they could do. It was like that!

Wow, I thought my friend Deirdre was bad about the romantic daydreams. I was the eccentric who was so cynical that I came across as happy because when I expected the worst of everything, then every event became a nice surprise. But then when I looked in the mirror after that first night... It might sound crazy, but I looked different. I was flushed from how horny I was, from excitement and eagerness. What was more, I didn't want to go play and fix my little arousal problem. I really wanted to stay that way. And that was the thought that made me realize something.

Shit. Everyone always said my playful energy and outgoing weirdness was going to come back to bite me one day and I thought that they might have been right. Because I thought I was infatuated.

————

Alex

A... masochist's goldmine? Really? Well... Thanks. I think? Also, she's damn right she was all that part. That was the type of corruptive, slow work from a fantasy book, since she brought the analogy up!

There was something intrinsically connected with my dates with Lily, this sense of... It's hard to explain, but there were a couple of things. For a start, I hadn't confessed this or had anyone to share it with all my life and it wasn't something I had ever missed because, well, that was par for the course in my life. I just didn't talk much unless someone directly asked first and made it clear what they wanted. That went for everything, even things like books, so it for damn sure went for things like what I sexually liked. So when I finally started to answer Lily, it was... holy shit, it was this amazing thing. I wanted to talk with her about them and I had this gratitude that I could. There were a few reasons why the formula seemed to work and the first was that Lily wasn't awkward with me because she was, obviously, high up on her own submissive tendencies. She understood and that was more than enough for her to work with. She got what it was like to wonder if you were going to be judged and I learned that was because she had been judged for it, and harshly. She got what it was like to look for the right words and she didn't let me stagger for very long. One time, I hesitated and she grinned up at me, sitting at my knees.

"Want to hear an awful story? One time, I got this new phone the night before one of my older cousins flew in to visit the family for the holidays. He's a missionary in Africa, you see. Well, the night before, I had transferred all my photos from my laptop to my phone and just didn't have the time to go through and sort the photos. While he was visiting, my dad told me to show my cousin this picture I had and, I didn't know this, but apparently this phone had a cool little slide show feature. You tilted it and-" She cut off, laughing at the look on my face.

"What did it land on?"

She grinned, then actually blushed. "Don't judge me, but straight up tit torture."

"Lily, that's awful!"

But she was laughing at my knees, so hard she was choking on it. "He said he wasn't into that. I think I broke a missionary."

I was stroking her hair and that was the second thing. She'd have me sit in her chair and I leaned forward while she curled up on the floor. And it didn't feel awkward either, is the thing. You know how most everything in life seems good until you go to start to try it and then anxiety ruins everything? Lily made it so easy. She didn't let me reach the anxiety and after the third night together, I sat without her guiding me and leaned forward and it was only then that I paused with the realization of what I was doing. But Lily already had her head against my knee. She was already nuzzling me.

One of the things I said she was like was Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and it took a few weeks of these talks before I realized that sadists were her snakes. The cute little mongoose in that story was death to snakes. This cute little mongoose wasn't dangerous because of how well she could tussle or how well she could overpower, though. No, this one was dangerous because she was addictive to talk to.

You see, Lily Lofton had this superpower where she could make anything sound like a romantic intimacy. It took her all of a few talks to realize I liked things more along the sadism and humiliation lines and she started talking about those. I didn't ever want her to stop talking about them, either. There's one conversation that I'd never forget because it just encompassed who Lily was so totally.

She was talking about needle play. You see, after she'd brought up the pictures on her phone and after we'd talked a few more times, I'd finally gotten up the nerve to ask her if she had those pictures because that was her thing. "I..." She hesitated. "Okay, tit for tat. I have a lot of things, really, but it's definitely... part of one." She frowned, trying to think of her words, while I felt a little guilty because I knew these answers. I had seen her pictures and she didn't know that. But the guilt was a little overwhelmed by the fact that I just wanted her to keep speaking. It excited me to hear her talk about these things and it gave me these thrills. Not just arousal, although that was definitely part of it. "Um. I like the rush, you know? Like the nail thing. For a start, the nails aren't actually nails. They're just needles that are made to look barbaric, almost piercing needles even."

"Really?" I had always thought they were bigger. The hooks used in torture suspension were fucking nightmarish in size.

"Yeah!" She grinned up at me and she was so excited, like we were talking about a movie and not goddamn tit torture. Her blush was even gone. I'm telling you that I still contend Lily was sent to me by the devil. "It's not about them being a larger gauge. The smaller size works for the purpose enough because it's still that piercing pain, still a point that you have to watch when it's happening, you know? And that's the real purpose. The fear and the conflict. You see, you get this rush with the pain, this awesome giddiness, but you really don't want to go through the pain to reach it... but you do, though. It's the reaction, the self struggle, and that rising choke of terror. And then it hits and it's like a sudden burst of release."

She was torture with these conversations. I had fantasized so much and I had seen those pictures of hers, so I could imagine it on her face. It was even worse with her at my knees, looking up at me. I'd stroke her hair and stare down into her blue eyes and I could easily see those gazes that had always been hidden in her pictures, ones of excited fear, ones of anticipation, ones where the pain hit and her eyes watered, ones where she stared up in pleading. I don't know what those moments made my face look like, but I know she always seemed to know when she could take advantage of them.

She'd lift up and meet me for a kiss and she always made this soft little whimper of a sound that made me thrill. She had taught me what that noise meant from her, though not in words. Of course, the first time I still hesitated and I was still a little tentative when I touched her throat. But then, Lily gave me a louder, begging whine when I did and it was the kind of obvious sign that definitely meant "green light". I choked her, just a little. Each time made me feel a little more wild, too, because each time was this tease, especially with the conversations we were having. I pulled her hair and I learned really fast what kind of choking and hair pulling turned Lily on the most. It felt a little like getting drunk off her kiss, sadism drunk. I had all these images running through my head, this blend of her pictures and how she had stopped posting any of them at all since the night we started talking. It was how I knew those things about her, how I'd read all these stories and had all these ideas in my head.

So that's how it started and, for a while, it even stayed that way. Lily was so careful, so playful. She took her time, too, making sure I didn't feel uncomfortable with whatever we talked about, making sure she didn't have me talk about too much too fast. Even later, I loved to imagine her as my wicked little demon, working to draw me out. Of course, demons don't stay in a stasis of conversation. Lily had learned that the things that made me most embarrassed to talk about were fantasies. I could talk the philosophy with her easily, especially when she had me desensitized to feelings of shyness, which took a shorter time than you might expect. But this devious little demon was weaving her magic for an end goal and she took the first chance she saw. What was more, she didn't just lightly addict me. She unlocked the goddamned flood gates.

————

We were talking about ropes and rope bondage and I eventually got up the nerve to say the words on my mind. "No offense, Lily, but that sounds like it's pointless when you said there's the straps for just about everything." Because I'd love to have her tethered, but the rope thing? God, have you seen some of those videos? It can take a freaking age.

She grinned up at me, getting this wicked look in her eyes that made me pause. It was impossible to have these conversations with Lily and not learn to read her, figure out her mannerisms and expressions. That look made me wary. "I don't think you're thinking of it quite right. Boring in videos, sure." She teased a hand up my thigh and her voice was husky with this sexual purr that made me burn a little more. "But think of real life. You'd get to tie each knot and wrap each layer of rope and, with every one, you'd know that your victim was getting more and more helpless. They'd be more and more at your mercy, so you could do whatever you wanted."

She stroked her hands higher up my thighs, on her knees. "Lily..."

She giggled. "It'd be this teasing build." She massaged back around to the outside of my legs and all I could think of was how we'd been teasing each other for weeks. She had started texting me too and even that was a tease, although she had yet to crossover our conversations with messages. I thought this was intentional on her part, keeping these conversations out loud, building this tension. She stroked back down to my knees. "And you could make it last as long as you'd like, too, because you'd be the one making the rules. You'd know that you were suffering the tease, but your playmate would be suffering way more because they wouldn't know what you wanted to do afterwards. They'd just be trapped in anticipation build and waiting." All I could see was Lily, forced to wait for that curl of my hand around her throat. I had seen how she reacted to that enough to know how much she loved it, how it made her wild. The thought of her unable to lift up for it, of her with her wrists wrapped in coils of rope behind her made me...

"Okay, Lily. I get it." My voice was hoarse. Weeks. We'd been just talking and kissing and teasing for weeks.

"But just to make sure, you know, you'd be able to decide when you'd made them wait enough and then you could..."

I hissed out a breath when she finally brushed my cock over my jeans. Her touch was so light and gentle and God, for weeks. She pressed her palm, just hard enough to be enough pleasure through the denim and my head fell back, while I tried to think straight. Instead, I just remembered those pictures of Lily under two Dommes, with a funnel gag and cum being poured down it. When I looked back down, she was smiling wickedly and she pressed her lips to my jeans while I watched her kiss hard enough for me to feel it. I threaded my fingers through her hair and she lifted her head with a moan of her own.

And I knew what she wanted and liked. I hadn't done this with her before, but we had had some great make out sessions where I knew what that tilt of her head meant. I hesitated even so, but then I tightened my hands in her hair.

I used my hold to press her back down so that she made this cry of a hot sound. "Christ," I whispered. It was good.

It was so damned good. She wasn't even blowing me, but I could have done just that for a long fucking time, sexual pain of need or not. I lifted her head, then forced her back down in a blowing motion, just to see it. She moved with my touch too, bowing so easily. She made these low whining sounds of desire that made me hotter than hell and I didn't wonder if I was doing the right thing. Lily had been so careful with how she talked with me and, in a twist that made me horny, she'd been the one to train me. I watched her work as I guided her and I realized something else. I didn't have a particularly dominating demeanor.

I didn't need it. It was definitely enough that it turned me on to see her in even that mild form of degradation. Something about it flat did it for me, something about the fact that she was just made to do the motion because it was a turn on to humiliate her. It made me think of her being reminded that even when the hole in her face wasn't being used, it was still just another hole to fuck.

"Stop stroking me." I said it in another soft voice and then thrilled when she obeyed me. The truth was I didn't mean to actually say it as a command. I said it more from the fact that I was getting too turned on too quickly and didn't want it to be over, but when I wasn't thinking about it, it came out as a command. It was some kind of magical addiction when she obeyed, when she placed her hands on my thighs and let me just control her head.