Dracul
Posts: 1
Joined: 11/20/2005
Status: offline
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"Create username." He watched the cursor blink in the empty box. It was as if the computer was tapping its fingers, impatient for his entry.
"Master..." The delete key seemed ticklish, it giggled as he pressed it six times quickly.
"I don't want to be called Master until I have a girl who means it." He thought.
"Sir” Delete. Delete. Delete. "Never been knighted." he mused sarcastically, running his fingers through his short hair.
He thought about nicknames he'd had as far back as grade school. "Gizmo" was one he'd had because he was always able to get the filmstrip projector working for the Librarian, and because he'd easily figured out how to set a classmate’s new digital watch. The name seemed wildly inappropriate for this kinky crowd.
Here, "Gizmo" might imply some specialty in attaching dildos to old drill parts in order to make fucking machines. Perhaps it would imply an expertise in electrical play, or the creation and use of some other variety of pleasure devices.
Not that he had anything against toys or their use, but online he recognized that his login name was his opportunity to make a first impression. It was his chance to define himself in 37 characters or less using only letters, numbers, an underscore and no other special characters.
He brought up a new window, clicked a search link and perused the names of other male members of this online community.
"whatnow
SirStan
69Anytime
footworship
slaveCBT
masterTom
slavemale_23
Domi8tor
Techie
CJ325
luvspanx
AdamLost
MarineSgt
subforuse
MasterGabriel
_MrT_
leatherMan1966
daddyforu
Latex_and_Leather
masterscott"
The mouse hovered over the "Next Matches" link for moment, and he felt like a lost tourist checking a map in the middle of a crowded intersection. His left hand was faster than the right and the window closed; command+W FTW.
"Well that was pointless." He decided, rubbing his forehead and yawning. He stretched his back and moved his arms up and back behind him.
Another window was opened quickly and he searched the Internet Movie Database. Mr Grey had been James Spader's character in 'Secretary.' Apparently IMDB had recently decided to remove the obnoxious restriction to force users to login before being able to read the message boards. Some of the posts had interesting insight into the last scenes of the film, and he wasn't sure what movie some of these other people had been watching.
He took some time to image search Maggie Gyllenhaal and decided he needed to write a thank you note to Agent Provocateur.
Returning to the site he tried the name, and a not entirely unexpected error message displayed. "MrGrey is not available, please enter another username."
He did make a habit of having his submissive call him Sir or Mr. Cameron and considered using that- his own last name- but felt doing so would compromise his privacy and discretion.
He laughed as he decided that using his first name as his username, "Marshal" might imply some sort of wild west fantasy or military fetish.
YouTube, Will Smith and user Kevin2302 provided the means of purging the Wild Wild West theme song from his mind.
"Any damsel that's in distress be outta that dress when she meets Jim West." The line had always made Marshal smile.
"JimWest is not available, please enter another username."
He was clearly putting too much time and thought into this.
Marshal Googled quickly for another favorite kinky movie, 'Walk All over Me.' Although none of the character names stuck out- the actor who played the main antagonist had a fantastic name "Lothaire Bluteau"
"It's worth a try," he thought.
Tap, type, tap, tap. "Welcome, Lothaire!" The site responded.
"Lothaire." He laughed at the greeting and his new username. "So much for making some deep philosophical statement of self through my username."
His profile pictures were dark, Photoshop filtered into near non-recognition. A face pic, a shot of him bare chested holding a flogger; both were quickly approved by the site admins as appropriate content.
After some consideration, approving the site photos was a job Marshal decided he would not want. The thought of it appealed to his voyeuristic tendencies and at first it seemed a glamorous enough job.
On this adult oriented site explicitly R rated photos were considered acceptable. Here he'd found more tiny thumbnails of amateur ass, pussy, and breasts then he'd seen on some professional porn sites. Marshal could only imagine that "appropriate content" for the site covered a wild gamut of images and likely made for a very fun inbox for someone.
Hopefully that person had a private office, a box of Kleenex and a jar of Jergens on the desk.
The sad reality, however, was that for all the hot chics with fake tans, faked smiles and even faker tits, Marshal was sure there was a good bit of photographic material that probably couldn't be accepted. The only time some of these rejected pictures might be shown would be to a jury at a criminal trial.
As if his imagination was an Etch-A-Sketch, he quickly shook off the idea of the office looking like something that belonged in the Playboy mansion and replaced it with a set from CSI. Was every uploaded picture run through facial recognition programs and crossed referenced with sexual offender databases? Probably not, but Marshal bet the parent company had a direct contact at the local police or FBI branch office.
It wasn't long after his photos were accepted that he'd started getting messages. It seemed odd to him that a minimally filled out profile was enough to attract email. The notes were all mostly flattering and from supposedly straight men who wanted to give him a blowjob.
Marshal checked his profile. Dominant. check. Straight. check.
He shook his head as he deleted the messages. Marshal could only assume the inboxes of women on the site were being assaulted like a drunk cheerleader on prom night.
He clicked the link to edit his profile. "About me" the big empty box was labeled.
He sat for a moment to think about what to say, and then began typing.
"Submissive? Inquire within. I cannot train you to be submissive. I cannot teach you the desire to serve."
"About me," he observed the title of the box. He'd not said anything significant about himself.
That little box was quite intimidating. Marshal was surprised at how difficult it was to define himself in this context.
He'd been active in the lifestyle in one way or the other since his introduction to it at 18.
It was a girlfriend who had shown him that the sexual fantasies he'd had were acceptable and a part of a larger alternative lifestyle, a kinky community.
The first date, however, sounded far from kinky. She had asked him to be her date at a sorority function.
"Wait," Marshal had asked. "You're a sorority girl?" She didn't seem the type.
He remembered the way she would moan and even scream in pleasure as he took her; her hands bound with silk scarves to the headboard, or fastened with improvised manacles he’d made with strips of Velcro and a foam mouse pad.
"It's a service sorority." She explained. "We do things for the community. I've volunteered at homes for battered women, danced with horny old men at nursing homes, and served dinner at homeless shelters. This is our Fall Formal, a banquet and dance - you'll need to wear a suit."
"Should I rent a tux?" Marshal asked.
"Okay." She giggled. "So it's our Fall 'not so' Formal. Can you make it down?"
The trip was an easy three-hour drive from his dorm to her door. Her apartment was nestled in the middle of six identical buildings all stacked right on top of each other. This was 1980's construction with half brick and half siding. A gravel parking lot in the back of the building had in effect made the back door to her apartment her front door. The front door stayed mostly locked and was only used by the religious pamphlet pushers, and the occasional UPS delivery.
He sat in the car for a moment and looked at the building nervously. He'd never met this woman before face to face. Marshal had only seen her photos and heard her voice on the phone. They'd met online, mostly chatted online and enjoyed writing intriguingly detailed cybersex scenes with each other. This encounter was really the first time he'd met an Internet girlfriend.
He smiled in confidence at how scary it had been to meet an Internet girlfriend, knowing that it had gotten much easier for him to do so later in life.
He remembered his own nervousness at this first encounter, his fear of her not liking him. His paranoia that she'd decide he wasn't so cute after all.
The whisper of the crunching rocks under his car had revealed his arrival to her. She opened the door to greet him and he saw her awash in the light of her apartment. Marshal remembered feeling his flood of anxiety fall away at that moment.
"Get out of the car, jackass." He said to himself as she waved at him from the door. He waved back, taking off his seat belt and pressing eject on the tape deck. "C'mon, c'mon." He said, listening to the spinning tape heads and waiting for the unique mechanical vomiting sound of the tape ejecting.
Wrapping his arms around her tightly at the door, he gave her a deeply longing kiss. Marshal quickly found himself behind her and inside her as he bent her over the dining table.
His bag was still in the car, her mix tape had been discarded clumsily on the counter and their clothes were strewn about the kitchen as they fucked.
"Oh!" She purred and wiggled her hips as he pressed his cock deep into her. "Yes" she declared repeatedly as he wrapped his fingers into her hair and pulled, causing her to arch her back up slightly.
He spanked her ass with his large, flat palm and she yelped, grinding her wetness back onto his heat.
Their enthusiastic greeting caused them to be late for the start of the Formal, but they laughed about it the whole night. Marshal teased her by inspecting the stability of their dinner table at the banquet hall, giving it a surreptitious shake down and pressing on it as if to gauge the weight limit. She kept her hand on his leg during most of the awards presentation, and bent over seductively in front of him at ever opportunity; taking care to make sure he noticed the generous view down her evening gown.
"I have a surprise for you." She said as they settled into the couch back at her apartment later that night. Marshal noticed the devilish sparkle in her eyes as she reached over and began removing his tie. After taking off his glasses, she fashioned his neckwear into a blindfold.
"I'll be right back for you." She whispered.
Marshal sat back on the sofa for a few minutes comfortably. He'd never been blindfolded before that point and found the restriction and the tightness of the knot at the back oh his head exciting.
He heard her make a glass of ice water, start some soft music, and listened to her soft return.
Marshal was led gently into her bedroom. There he could smell a scented candle and remembered that fake citrus scent. He imagined for a moment that the blueberry and strawberry smells had come from the sexual torture of Strawberry Shortcake and her friends.
This was the night, he realized, that he had really accepted the idea of kink into his life. Before that night rough sex, bondage, and even spanking had been dark fantasies, a shame he hid from himself and others.
That changed that night. She had bound his arms with something soft and silky, tied him tight to her bedposts, and crawled on top of him. She dripped ice on his throbbing cock and nipples and she teased his lips and tongue with her wetness, keeping herself just out of his reach.
Continuing to squirm and wiggle above him - she never let him get his mouth on fully on her, only giving him the occasional lick. He felt helpless and frustrated and it aroused him incredibly.
She put her mouth around his throbbing and lowered her wetness against his own waiting mouth, forcing him to bring her to orgasm.
When she was cumming, Marshal finally quit pretending that he was still tied up, removed his blindfold and managed to wrestle her over onto her back. She squealed with delight as he restrained her properly to the bed and began dripping the melting ice against her erect nipples.
"My turn to play." He growled, biting into her flesh with his teeth and pulling her nipples up and away from her.
Looking around the room he noted several white taper candles had been lit in addition to the large scented candle jar. Plucking a candle off of its holder he held it above her and observed the splatter of the wax against her flesh. The ice was next, rubbing over her nipple to cool down the flesh before more wax splashed down from the candle.
She was panting, moaning, and looking at up to him with a mix of surprise, submission, and desire.
The wax covered both nipples, and spread down her belly to form lines to the tops of her thighs. He saw that she was wet, and explored her with his fingers, moving them in and up softly as he continued to drip the wax against her chest and belly.
Soon he blew out the candle and prepared to mount her.
"Do you want me inside you?"
"Yesssss" She purred quietly as he rubbed her clit with the head of his cock. "Please fuck me."
As their bodies moved together a train passed on the tracks across the street. Her screams where mixed with the train whistle at the crossing while their rhythmic motion on the squeaky bed was absorbed by the rumble of the cargo carriers on the track.
"Submissive? Inquire within." He reviewed his profile information on the site.
"I cannot train you to be submissive. I cannot teach you the desire to serve."
He added. "I cannot tell you who you are. I can only teach you the things I like and what I don't like. Using that information to please me is entirely up to you. I'm a patient, kind, and caring dominant who can help you explore your fantasies and discover yourself. I am interested in you, as a person, as a woman. I'm not interested in making you into something, or someone you are not. I do not desire to break you down and mold you into what I want. I would rather build you up, support you, and encourage your submission and your sexual explorations. I am looking for an intelligent woman who will have the strength to beg to have me inside her body, mind and heart. A woman to give me control- not because I demand or command it- but because she knows it is the right thing for her, to serve and please me. This woman will be given the gracious reward of my trust, being pleasured and pampered by me, used by me- and who will earn a place in my home, and in my heart."
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Chapter 1. The Profile - 
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