Bicycle

Chapter 1: There's one in every workshop

There is one in every workshop, every committee meeting, every training session. The one who knows everything, who answers all the teacher's questions, offers help to the other students and dominates every discussion.

In this workshop I was taking, it was the lean woman in the page boy haircut. Rather fit, not that pretty as the world counts, but her angular face had its charms, medium height, clothes just so, everything new. She had tried to control everything. Always talking, quickly, fluently, always self-possessed. And you know what is the most annoying about her? She was, most of the time, right. If she'd been an idiot, we all could have laughed at her, but she was smart. That made it more difficult to shut her up.

And then, why does everyone just go along with people like that? Let them get away with it. I didn't. Those times she was off-base I went at her. Never lost control, just was forceful and clear and didn't let her get away with bullshit. I did it just out of irritation, I wasn't all that interested in the topic we were forced to attend by the job.

She had self-possession, she could sound good. But when she was out to lunch, I chopped her off at the knees. A couple of times it seemed like a battle of the wills and she fought back, but I had chosen my spots carefully and I didn't back down, overriding her once or twice.

At the end of the conference, our paths crossed as I was walking out of the room. I wasn't going to give way either, but she abruptly crossed in front of me, speeding up to do so. She was putting on one of those expensive outdoorsy coats people who don't really go outdoors much wear. All full of pockets, and little zippers and big yellow accent panels. I suppose it would protect against the storms that had started up outside and it almost brushed my nose as she whipped it on. I went to say something, but she strode ahead and grabbed her bicycle which she had parked right in the hallway outside the class room.

Now that did piss me off, it was illegal to do that, and I knew that if I tried it, I'd get nailed by the cops, but there was just something about her personality that told me that she'd get away with it and would intimidate the cop into not giving her a ticket if she was caught.

So off she went and that was that. Didn't expect, nor want, to see her again. Went home, did my stuff in the evening and went to work the next day. That was that.

Except it wasn't. The next night when I got home and fired up my computer I found an email from her on it. Now that was odd. How did she get my home email from a work conference - our work info was on the class list that was passed around. I had personal web sites, maybe she got the email from those.

In any case it was an odd message, she said that she owed me money from the lunch and that she'd be happy to come out to this place near where I lived and meet me to repay it. She named a coffee shop at the edge of a mall near where I lived. She proposed a time and asked if that was OK with me. I was more than a little annoyed. She didn't owe me money for lunch, we had put our money in and there had been some back and forth, but I was pretty sure she hadn't taken more than her share. Nor did I like the naming of a date and time.

This all sounded like her up to her old tricks of telling people what to do. However, the beginning and the end of her note raised some questions. The first sentence, was this. "I'm very sorry to bother you, but I beg of you to let me approach you, and submit to you that I have been bad." The last sentence was this, "You can punish me for this as you wish."

Now, one problem us kinky types have is that vanilla people use words from kink land and don't know what they mean by it. But there sure were a lot of them, beg, submit, been bad, punish me. Could she be sending a signal? Or just being a tease, because everything in between those two sentences was abrupt and official sounding. But what the hell, I could play along. Perhaps I'd complain that she had taken even more money than she thought.

I replied, accepting her offer, and closed by saying, "You can approach me at this time. I'll be interested in what punishment you propose." She emailed back accepting.

The day and evening she'd named came around and so that Friday night after work found me in the little coffee shop, at the edge of the mall, looking out over a the huge parking lot and wondering how she'd play this.

I was five minutes early, she came right on time. I saw her walking across the parking lot, with the same yellow accented jacket along with jeans, low shoes and leather gloves. Tall and lean, making an attractive package. She came in quite assertively, walking abruptly, looked around, saw me, and came to a stop and seemed to shrink in size. She walked slowly over to me, eyes downcast most of the time.

She introduced herself and just stopped. I wondered what she'd do if I just continued to sit there looking at her while she stood. But there was something going on her, I could tell that now. I indicated the seat opposite me and she sat down, taking off her gloves.

"Hello," I said, evenly, looking directly at her.

"Hi, ah, hello. I wrote you the note, I'm pretty sure I owe you $5 from the lunch."

"Are you sure it was $5, it might have been $7," I said, just to cause trouble and throw her off.

"Yes," she said, eyes darting at me and then looking down again. This was a different person from the confident, assertive one I'd seen at the workshop.

"That was an interesting note you wrote."

"It was."

"Didn't expect to get that from you. Didn't expect I'd hear from you at all."

"Well, I just had a feeling - about the money."

God, she was nervous. About what? That she messed up, that she wanted to date me, that she wanted to have me beat the shit out of her, not sure yet. She certainly wasn't acting like a mistress, that's for sure.

"You could have mailed me the money."

"That, wouldn't have made up for the inconvenience to you, I felt I should come forward, make the effort."

"Sort of like a little punishment for being bad."

I saw her eyes widen a bit when I said that. I looked at her. This teasing was kind of fun, I wonder how explicit she'd get before I'd committed myself.

"Yes," she said, hands twisting in her lap, "a little punishment."

"But what if I want a different punishment."

"I guess you could ask for whatever you want."

"You don't know what things I might want."

She, took a deep breath, looked at me, eyes open, frank. "That would be something I'd have to risk."

"What sort of risk are you willing to take?" I could spin this out for a while, it was fun.

"You seem like I could trust you." I really hoped all this mental footsie was not me reading things that weren't there.

"You'd be willing to submit to my punishment."

"I can be very submissive."

"How submissive?"

She stopped, looking at me with real fear in her face. This was it, the line, the cliff. She'd say something now about BDSM and over she'd go. She'd have to risk that she understood my real meaning. But I'm the Master, it's not for me to have to take the risk, the slave has to commit herself, risk humiliation, be open. They like doing that anyway.

"How submissive?" I said again.

"Anything. I, I can't keep from going deep."

"All night and into tomorrow."

"All weekend if you'll have me."

"Oh, I think I'm going to have you. Fairly often. Tell me, what made you think of approaching me, taking this risk."

"You were the only one there who stood up to me. That made me wet. I had to see if you were that dominant in private life."

"You didn't have any evidence of that, not really."

"You never lost control when you argued with me, never."

"Doesn't prove anything."

"I didn't know, not till you replied and used that word, punishment."

"You like that word."

She looked at me again, a note of pleading came into her pretty voice, "Please punish me, severely, hard. No mercy."

"You were very bad in that class."

"Yes."

"Very bossy, pushy."

"Yes."

"I am quite sadistic."

"Yes."

"I like to torture women. You understand, this isn't tie and tease."

"God, I hope not."

"Tell me what you take."

"Heavy pain. Humiliation. Being broken. Forced to use my safe words. And," she looked up at me quickly, trying to judge me, I assume, " … torture."

"Torture." Just the word, making her explain.

"Like I was captured, a spy, and enemy. Tortured."

"Till you break."

"Yes."

"And this will go through to Sunday afternoon."

"Yes."

"And you are mine sexually."

"Yes."

"You have your car in a safe spot."

"I took the bus here."

"Good." I sipped my coffee. "Put your gloves back on, and follow me to the car. Don't speak unless told to." I stood up.

She did follow me, walking three steps behind me like a good slave should.

I opened the door and she got in. I got in the driver's seat. Reaching below my seat I pulled out a pair of handcuffs and fitted them over her gloved wrists. I locked them down snuggly and double locked them. I got a leather strap out and secured it around her ankles. A second leather strap went around her torso below the breasts and then around the seat, I pulled this tight and buckled it and she was pinned in the seat.

Finally, I pulled out a small blindfold. Holding it where she could see it, I said, "What's your safe word?"

"Red."

"The traditional red, yellow, green. Good." I fitted the blindfold over her eyes. It blocked the light but was not obvious from the street, especially through my tinted windows.

I started the car and drove to my house. I used the opener and we drove into the garage and I had the door shut behind me.

We sat there for just a second. Then, abruptly I slapped her face and she cried out in surprise.

I reached over and gave her a rough kiss.

"Both will be your fate tonight. You have no more choices, other than the single one of when to use your safe word. No choices. I will not ask you what you like or what turns you on, because I think that is the very thing that does turn you on."

She nodded twice.

I put my hand on the back of her neck. I put a tone of gentleness in my voice. "Use your safe word if you are about to be damaged, use the yellow if you need to warn me of something. We haven't played before, some exploration will be inevitable, a false start or two." I grew fierce. "You will be honest with me. Never, never lie to me or use that safe word because you got an attitude. I will be able to tell."

She nodded again, just once.

"You have no choices. I will break you and make you use that safe word. That will so humiliate you, little miss confident-I-have-it-all-under-control. You and your fucking bicycle."

I got out of the car and came around to pull her out. By her hair. It would be a good beginning.

[ On to chapter 2 ]