Yes, Katya

I met Katya back in my second year at university. She was older than me by about five years, and so even in the early part of our friendship she had a natural way of taking control. I've always liked that kind of confidence in a woman. What I didn't know was just how deep this dominant instinct ran in her, or how far she would be willing to push it if I gave her half a chance. But, as you might guess, I found out about that the hard way.

You have to understand, she was irresistible -- not just to a horny college kid like me -- but to everyone. She was tall, but graceful, and spoke with an easy confidence that intimidated most men. She would look you in the eye and smile in a way that made you think she knew something you didn't. That rubbed some guys the wrong way. She wasn't afraid to turn down their overly cocky advances, either, and they turned pretty sour after that. Unfortunately she didn't have much luck with the girls, either, who said she was a know it all or a bitch -- but in truth they were just jealous of her stunning beauty.

She had blonde, wavy hair, naturally full lips and a body as lean and supple as a jaguar, made all the more apparent by the form fitting black clothes she liked to wear.

I never expected to have a chance with her, and I think that was why she liked me at first: I didn't even attempt to hit on her. And I enjoyed talking to her, at the library or in the lecture hall, or out for food or coffee when our classes were done. I enjoyed spending time with her and could make her laugh, and between the jealous girls and the frustrated boys, my friendship meant a lot to her.

I thought that was all it was -- a friendship -- but later I found out she was hunting me (her words, not mine) the whole time. The more she hung out with me, she said, the more she found herself attracted to what she called my 'true nature.'

'I just noticed how you would do things for me, whenever I asked,' she said once.

'I even played with giving you orders, saying buy me a coffee without the please. Most guys would have got mad, but you didn't even notice. You just obeyed. I liked that.'

There were other signs, too, she said. How she could interrupt me and I would listen, yet I never dared to interrupt her, even when I had something to say. How I'd just laugh when she insulted me, playfully, but never fought back.

'C'mon, Dale,' she said. 'You were my bitch from the beginning, and you didn't even know.'

It's true, but after a month or so of hanging out and getting to know each other, she made her move, and it was a hell of a move. I knew who was in charge after that, that's for sure. Though it was only the first step along the journey of my enslavement. Looking back, it's amazing to see how smoothly she pulled it off. Knowing what she wanted from the start, she took away my freedom, bit by bit, and trained me to be her perfect devoted slave.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about that first move she made: the first time she really risked things to find out if I really was the type of person she could take over, after all...

It was a day like any other: the sun was out and we'd just finished our usual lunch together at the university café. We walked and talked, though as usual I struggled to concentrate on the conversation whenever I looked at her and nearly lost my breath at the sight of her. That day she was being a bit more touchy than usual, putting an arm around my shoulders, standing close to me. She smelled like vanilla, and it was intoxicating to my young mind.

'So what are your plans for tonight, anyway?' she asked casually, smiling. 'Got a hot date?'

I shook my head, mildly embarrassed. 'No, haven't been that lucky in the old dating department to be honest.'

'Oh really? Hot guy like you?'

I knew she was teasing me but something in her eye gave me doubt.

I shrugged. 'I don't know, I just suck at dating. We message back and forth, but then the day comes and it's like they lose interest.'

'I could help you with that,' she said. I stared at her, but she wasn't joking.

'Sure,' she went on. 'Why don't you practice on me tonight? You take me out, and I'll tell you how to do it right. I'll tell you exactly what to do to impress me. Cos if I'm impressed? I guarantee any slut you're matching with will get her little mind blown.'

I laughed, but my heart skipped about eight beats. 'Why do I feel like this is just your way of getting a free meal out of me?' I said.

'Oh, it is,' she said, grinning. 'But guess what? You're still gonna do it, aren't you?'

And of course, she had me there. Thinking back, I really was her bitch, wasn't I?

She met me at my dorm room, and immediately made me change clothes. 'No way are you taking someone like me out wearing that,' she said, eyebrows raised. 'Get that nice jacket, and your black shoes. Come on.'

That was only the beginning. It soon became apparent that she was taking her role as dating coach very seriously. For the whole dinner, everything I did was subject to correction and judgement. She told me what to order, and how (more confidence!). How to move (slower). Even how to eat. Over and over she said things like 'Your dream girl would want you to...' or 'If you want to get your dream girl? You better...'

I wanted to believe she was hitting on me so badly, but I couldn't believe it. She seemed so far out of my league, yet it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way she was treating me. At the end of the dinner I walked her back to her apartment across the road, substantially more broke, for all I cared. I decided to test the waters.

'You keep telling me about what I should do for my dream girl on the date,' I said. 'But you haven't said anything about what she wants after.'

'That's because what happens after depends on how well the date goes. If she likes you or not. And judging by tonight's performance, I don't know if you won her over.'

'So, you're the coach. Tell me how to win her over.'

We stopped at her front door. She tilted her head, thinking. 'Well, that all depends on the girl,' she said.

I persisted. 'Tell me about her, then,' I said. 'My dream girl.'

Now, she smiled. 'I think your dream girl is the kind of person who knows what she wants,' she said. I agreed with that, and she went on. 'So by now, she either tells you to get lost, or she invites you in.'

'I know what to do if she tells me to get lost,' I said. 'So what if I get invited?'

The smile faded from her face. 'Then you need to let her take the lead,' she said.

I swallowed.

'And if she tells you to make her a drink, you do it. And if she tells you to drop to your knees, you do that, too.' She stepped closer, and because she was in heels she was nearly a full head taller than me. 'And if she gives you an order,' she said quietly. 'You say Yes, Katya. Because she knows what she wants. Right?'

My mouth was so dry it was a miracle I got the words out at all. 'Y -- Yes?'

Her hand came up, gripping my throat, and pressed me against her door, not hard, but firm. I'm a fairly athletic guy, and it wasn't like I couldn't have pushed the hand away. I wasn't afraid, exactly, but in that moment it was like she had some strange power over me. I found myself wishing she would squeeze a little harder. 'Yes, what?' she said.

'Yes, Katya.'

Smiling again, she drew back her hand and stepped back. 'See?' she said, eyes twinkling. 'It's easy. Anyway, I had a nice time tonight, Dale. Did you want to come in for a bit?'

And I saw it all, then -- I'm sure of it. Just as she saw my true nature, I saw hers. I saw that she wanted me, not just for sex but for everything -- that she wanted to take me over, to own me. And that she was giving me the choice, then and there, to accept her offer or not. The deal was clear: step through that front door, and you're my bitch. For now and forever. If not? I guess we can still be friends. The choice was mine.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you it was not a hard choice to make.

***

The moment I shut the door behind me, she had control. When I opened my mouth to say something she put a finger to my lips. 'You know, I really enjoyed our conversations today,' she said. 'But I feel like some silence for a while, so why don't you shut up?'

I clamped my mouth shut, surprised, but also partially relieved. It would, after all, save me from saying something stupid, which in my current state was very possible. I was still processing her hand on my throat: had it really happened? Was I dreaming?

'Go get me a glass of wine,' she said. 'Then come find me in the living room. I'm gonna watch a show or something to wind down.'

'Yes Katya,' I dared. That, it seemed, was fine, because she gave me a short nod and then disappeared into the next room. I found the kitchen easily enough and poured her the wine, which I brought to her, heart hammering in my chest. She'd turned on her television and was watching a show I hadn't seen about vampires.

'Kneel down next to me,' she said. I gave her the wine and obeyed.

'Take off my heels. My feet hurt so I want you to massage them for a while.'

I did as she asked, and for a long time that was all we did: she watched her show, sipping from the glass and ignoring me completely while I massaged her feet. I felt almost drugged, intoxicated by her power. I was so locked into the trance I almost jumped when she next spoke.

'I know you think you're going to have sex with me,' she said. 'But you're wrong. You're never going to have sex with me. Ever.'

I wasn't sure if a response was needed, and I wasn't sure what I'd say, anyway, so I remained silent. Though I will admit, something in me broke at those words.

'I know you think that's what you want, Dale,' she went on, her tone sympathetic. 'But I'm going to show you that you don't really want that at all. What you want is exactly what I want. What you want is what I'm going to give you. What you want, Dale? Is to give me pleasure.'

I thought about that. She wasn't wrong. I mean, I did want to have sex with her, very very badly. But I liked the idea of giving her pleasure.

'What I'm going to show you, is that my pleasure is actually all that matters to you. I'm going to show you that I can take everything away from you. Everything. And you won't even care, as long as it pleases me. And that starts tonight.'

With that, she reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling me in front of her chair. She drew her thighs apart and, with the same firm grip she'd had on my neck earlier, she directed my head between them, hiking up her black dress with her free hand.

I knew what to do -- it didn't take a brain surgeon, after all. Now and then, she gave me feedback: 'faster, slower, lighter, harder...' but soon her words became light gasps of air and I felt her body tense as I licked her, finally, to orgasm.

I was about to pull back, but her hand remained firm on my head, stopping me. After a minute, she drew me back in. 'Start again. Slower.'

Again, I licked her, slower and slower and then faster, feeling her body tighten and relax, her moans of pleasure, and by the time she came I almost did as well, touching myself with my free hand.

This time, she let me draw back, but when she saw where my hand was she reached out and slapped me across the face, stunning me.

'What are you doing? Did I say you could touch yourself?'

'N -- no, Katya.'

She bit her lip, her face flushed. 'You don't get it yet, but I'll show you. Your pleasure doesn't matter. Pleasing me is all that matters to you. Go into the bedroom and lie face up on the bed. And lose the clothes.'

I did as she said, spreading out on the luxurious king sized bed. I noticed a pair of handcuffs at each of the bedposts, and it didn't surprise me when she used them to fasten my wrists at opposite corners of the bed, spread eagling me.

Now, something strange happened: She stood at the side of the bed, arms folded, looking me up and down with a measured gaze. Just as I was beginning to feel self conscious, she muttered: 'Maybe the jailbird.'

With that cryptic statement, I watched her open a chest of drawers against the far wall. When she returned, she was holding a small metal cage with a tiny lock. 'This is a chastity device,' she said in a calm, matter of fact voice. 'It's going to help me show you that my pleasure, not yours, is what matters. You see, it's impossible for you to touch yourself in this thing. And it's also impossible to take it off without the key. And I bet you can guess, smart boy that you are, who's going to hold the key.'

Without waiting for a response, she climbed on top of the bed, straddling me. The room was cold, and I'd lost my erection while she fumbled in the drawer -- not to mention the metal of the cage itself was icy cold. By the time I heard the key click in the lock, I had gone completely soft.

By now, it was as if I had been hypnotized. Everything was moving so fast, everything she said and did so overwhelming to me, that I had no choice but to go along with it. I was still half convinced I was dreaming, but I hardly cared. And when she stood at the foot of the bed and began to remove her clothes, piece by piece, I cared even less. If this was a dream, I hoped I never woke up.

That feeling would fade, eventually, but for the moment all I could think about was the beautiful naked woman standing before me. Tall as she was, she wasn't lanky or skinny but fit, agile looking. There was a light in her eyes, a kind of hunger, but at first I couldn't understand what she planned to do with me, now that my hands were tied apart and my cock was locked up in her cage. The metal device was shockingly small, too, so that it felt like someone had a tight grip of me.

Turning, she rifled once more through the drawers, and this time when I saw what she retrieved my mouth fell open. 'I don't know if... I've never...'

It was a strap on, complete with adjustable harness. The dildo was probably small by conventional standards, but it looked large enough to me. As she tightened the harness, it stood to attention, sleek and black. Katya opened a bottle of oil on her desk and poured some over her new appendage.

'You don't have to worry about any of that,' she said, looking me up and down eagerly. 'That's the whole point -- this isn't about you. See -- this is my kink. This is what I like. I like to get a nice boy like you all tied up so he can't move at all, not even a little.' She began to massage the oil into the strap on, stroking it as if it was part of her.

'I like to take away all of his power and make him helpless, just like you are now. And then? Then I like to make him mine. I like to hurt him a little, just because I can. And I like to fuck him until I come. Me, not him. That's what I like, and that's what I'm going to do to you.'

She was almost breathless as she spoke that last part, her hand stroking quickly, dripping with oil.

I could have struggled, even then. My legs were free, and I could have kicked her away (although it would have been easy for her to move around the side of the bed and stop that). I could have tried, anyway. But I didn't. I didn't, because of course, she had been dead on when she guessed my 'true nature'. And so instead, as I saw her moving towards me, I spread my legs apart, just as she had spread her legs for me earlier.

From the moment she pushed inside me, I felt her power. Not her physical power -- though she had plenty of that -- but the power she had over my mind. As she found her rhythm, moving slowly at first, then a little faster, she put one hand on my neck and I knew, in that moment, that she owned me completely.

I grew hard in the cage, but it was tight and unforgiving, and Katya had no interest in that, anyway. She was grinding into me with her hips now, causing me to lift my legs up higher. I let out a small gasp with each thrust, not used to the new sensation. I felt something building up inside of me, but I didn't know what. It was a sense of helplessness, mingled with the intense lust I had for her.

She kissed me, furiously, her tongue pushing into my mouth as she moved faster and faster, more urgently as she neared her climax. Rearing up, she looked down on me from above, both hands on my neck and squeezing now, and I looked back up at her filled with a sense of awe. And in the very same moment that the thought 'She owns me' entered my mind, she spoke it aloud, her whole body hot and flushed with pleasure: 'I own you!'

And she came, riding me, for what seemed like a full minute, her vanilla sweat dripping onto my face and her hands squeezing my neck until I felt the blood rushing in my ears. I didn't orgasm -- didn't even come close -- but those moments were the most intense I'd ever felt in my life, more intense than any orgasm I'd ever had, that's for sure.

She pulled back and collapsed, sighing, beside me, and we lay like that for a long time, saying nothing.

When we'd caught our breath at last, Katya spoke. 'I was right, wasn't I?'

'What do you mean?'

'About my pleasure being all that mattered.' I thought about it for a second and realised that she was right. She hadn't even touched me, really. The whole night had been about her, about her using me to please herself, like a toy. And yet, as I said, it had been better than anything I'd ever experienced.

'I've never felt like that before,' I admitted. 'Never.' Her face was on my chest, and I felt her smile with those full red lips.

After a pause, she took a deep breath. 'You have a choice now, Dale.'

'What?'

'I'm going to unlock your handcuffs. And if you ask me for the key to that cage I locked on you, I'll give it to you. You get this one, just this once. If you do that, we go back to being friends, just like before, and this whole night can be our little secret.

'But if you don't ask me for the key? I'll never give it to you. Ever. You'll be locked up for me, and I'll own you, body and soul. As much as a human being can own another one. You won't always like it, but if you don't ask for the key, that's what you're signing up for. Do you understand?'

For a long time, I stared up at the ceiling, struggling to think clearly. I was so full of her touch, her smell, her power, there hardly seemed room in my mind for anything else. In the end, I managed, 'Yes, Katya.'

After a while, she unlocked me and we had a shower together. As if nothing had happened, we talked about something that had happened in class and laughed about it. Then we got dressed, and Katya told me she was tired and needed some sleep. She walked me to the door.

There was a moment when we looked at each other on the threshold. I felt like she was waiting for me to say something, but all I could think about was how beautiful she was, how her eyes were so clear and blue. And how much power there was in that steady gaze that intimidated so many men.

'Good night, Katya,' I said.

'See you tomorrow,' she said, smiling, and closed the door.

I got all the way home and went straight to bed -- it was past midnight now. Almost immediately, my hand strayed of its own accord below my waist and encountered the unforgiving metal bars of my new cage.

'Oh,' I said, in the dark.