A New Chapter Starts Here

For the first time in what felt like forever, D.J. was smiling—a genuine smile, not a photo pose, but one born of real happiness. The heavy load he’d carried for so long seemed to have lifted from his shoulders.

Over the last year, life had shifted beneath him: deaths occurred, separation and divorce followed, he moved to a new city, and lived alone for the first time in his adult life. He had gone from high school days, through college roommates, into living with a girlfriend and then a wife. Yet never before had he felt this unique blend of loneliness and freedom within his own walls.

Usually not much of a “going out” person, D.J. struggled to make friends in his new town. Most connections came from online forums but didn’t quite click. He met some colleagues at work, though experience taught him to keep them at arm’s length; workplace dynamics change easily, and friendships often suffer along the way.

His one true friend was his dog—always eager to see him, always ready for a Netflix session.

Today was just another Wednesday, but D.J. had settled into a routine. Eager to meet the woman of his dreams, he hit the gym early in the morning. Once an athlete in high school, years of marriage and desk work had left him soft and slightly pudgy. But recently, he’d shed enough belly fat that he no longer rushed to tug down his shirt after removing his hoodie (which often came off with it). He was even considering swimming topless on his next business trip—his first time doing so in two decades. He looked good, and he knew it.

At 42, graying hair showed the passage of time, but D.J. wasn’t hiding them. They were like scars, each with a story behind it.

After the gym and another standard day at work, D.J. stopped by Whole Foods on his way home. He knew he shouldn’t shop hungry, but the fridge was bare, and he planned to grab a salad for dinner to avoid snacking later.

At the salad bar, he caught sight of red hair in the sneeze guard’s reflection. Redheads always drew him in. Instinctively turning, he locked eyes briefly with a stunning woman dressed in business attire. Her cat-like green gaze was intense enough to make him look away, but when he peeked up again, head slightly bowed, he saw her approaching and felt mortified.

Painfully shy around women unless they’ve connected online first, D.J. watched as she walked over and boldly lifted his chin with a touch of her hand. “Hi there,” she said. “I couldn’t help but notice you staring at me. What’s your name?”

“I… I… m sorry I stared,” D.J. stammered. “M… mm… my name is D.J.”

“I suppose I should do the usual small talk,” she replied cheerfully. “Hello D.J., nice to meet you. I’m Kelly. Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it? Blah blah blah. Small talk over. Where are you taking me to dinner?”

His hands trembled with nerves, but Kelly had already done the hard part: she’d made the move. He didn’t need to ask if they were going; he just needed to pick a place suitable for such a sophisticated and beautiful woman. Think, he urged himself. Think dammit.

“Well, what do you feel like?” D.J. asked, punting slightly. His inner critic shamed him for lacking assertiveness.

“Play your cards right,” Kelly winked, “and you might find out.”

Hoping she hadn’t heard his internal monologue, D.J. whispered to himself, Wow… she’s amazing.

“Yes, I am indeed. We’re going to sushi. I know the spot perfectly. Leave your basket; shop later. I’m hungry now—and never shop hungry. I’ll drive.”

She turned and headed for the door. D.J. took a half-step forward, enjoying the sway of her hips as she walked. Her high heels suggested she rarely stood or walked much at work. Waves of red hair curled down to mid-back with every confident stride he admired.

He had never met such a bold yet friendly woman—far from perfect in an unrealistic way. She wasn’t a swimsuit model; she had ample curves, standing perhaps 5’1” without heels, carrying a pleasant softness around her edges. Some might call her overweight, but D.J. thought she looked perfect.

Truthfully, he didn’t care much for sushi, but he wouldn’t blow this chance by complaining. They stopped at a bright red VW Beetle.

“Which place would you like to go? I’ll meet you there,” D.J. offered.

“Just get in,” she said. “We can come back for your car later.”

D.J. did his best to enjoy the sushi despite not usually liking fishy flavors. At least he could handle chopsticks well enough so as not to look foolish. When she asked why he wasn’t eating much, he had a ready excuse: “I’m on a bit of a post-divorce diet.”

“Me too,” Kelly said. “Though mine is more like an eat-everything-in-my-path diet due to stress. I’ve gained about 20 pounds but feel better than ever. How long have you been divorced?”

“Six months. You?”

“Two months, though we were separated for over two years before that. We’re still friends, but he couldn’t handle my success and really wanted kids—I don’t. I guess we should have discussed it earlier, but youth makes us dumb. We cut our losses and parted ways. He’ll likely find some hot twenty-something waiting to get knocked up while marrying a doctor. I’m happy being single, especially since I just made partner.

“You are an attorney?”

“Yes, don’t hate me for it,” she laughed. “I do good work; we focus mostly on environmental law. What about you?”

“I’m a photographer—at least, striving to make a living from it. In another life, I worked in software until our company was bought by Facebook. Lucky enough that I cashed out and could retire if I wanted. These past months have been spent setting up an office and building contacts to sell my photos. Maybe National Geographic will come calling.

“We use photographers for our wilderness preservation efforts,” Kelly noted. “Maybe we can utilize your work sometime, but that’s for another day. I’m stuffed now. Let’s get out of here.”

Slightly disappointed the date was winding down, D.J. said, “OK, my dog is probably hungry and ready to go anyway.”

“Well, let’s swing by your house on the way to mine then,” she suggested.

“I didn’t realize we were going to your place,” D.J. replied, sounding slightly awkward.

“You aren’t paying enough attention, D.J.,” Kelly teased. “I asked you out. I picked the restaurant. And I drove us here. Pretty sure I wear the pants in this relationship.”

“I paid for dinner,” D.J. retorted playfully.

“Exactly my point.” She winked again. “So what does ‘D.J.’ stand for, anyway?”

“Disk Jockey,” it was his go-to answer. He hated giving people his real name.

“Very funny. I’ll get the truth out of you eventually.”

After a quick stop at D.J.’s house to feed the dog and let her outside, they headed off to Kelly’s place. It turned out they lived in the same subdivision, just blocks apart. That’s convenient, he thought.

Her home was well-appointed with an obvious womanly touch missing from his own decor—despite hiring a decorator for all his furniture. He scanned the room and spotted interesting knickknacks: carvings from Africa and Japan, a German beer stein… clearly she was a world traveler.

“So you’ve traveled the globe,” D.J. asked, assuming her impressiveness had peaked. “How many languages do you speak?”

“Fluently? Or enough to get by?”

“Let’s start with fluency.” D.J. replied. “I’m fluent in English, obviously, plus Spanish and German.”

“Ich bin auf Englisch, Deutsch, Spanisch, Französisch, Arabisch und Schwein Latein fließend,” Kelly responded in German.

D.J. blinked. “Pig Latin counts?”

“Just to see if you were truly fluent in German and paying attention.” She winked again. “So here’s the deal: that covers our small talk for now. I’m attracted to you, and I can tell you’re attracted to me. We’re ad

“Let’s cut the pretenses and politeness. I want to retreat to my room for some adult entertainment. Are you joining me or stepping aside? It’s like choosing between the rabbit hole, blue pill, red pill, and so on.” D.J.

Over the past few months, D.J. had been sexually active more often than usual, though it still wasn’t a daily occurrence. He would meet up with a “friend” once or twice each month. Often, this was just him and online porn.

“I’m in. Lead the way,” I said.

“Down that hallway, through those double doors. Enter, undress, take a shower in the master bathroom, then wait for me on the bed while I freshen up.” D.J. tried to keep from rushing down the hall, hovering between a cool walk and a frantic run. He reached the room and spotted a vintage four-poster bed centered in a spacious area. Finding a chair, he stripped off his clothes and moved into the master bath. The shower was custom-built and quite large; seeing the steam function, he wished he could try it out. Beside the shower sat a big jetted tub with more features to explore. But first things first: the bedroom. So he stepped into the shower and lathered up.

Just as D.J. applied shampoo to his hair, Kelly joined him.

Her body was plumper than anticipated yet smooth and undeniably curvy. Her breasts were flawless. Catching her gaze fixed on him, she said, “I had them reduced after my divorce. They also made these 35-year-old breasts look twenty again.” She laughed lightly.

D.J. finished shampooing but hesitated about what to do next. “Now it’s your turn. Get my scrubby and wash me. Start with my back; my breasts will be the reward for a good job on my back.” After twenty minutes in the shower, his fingers were wrinkled, and he hoped other parts of him hadn’t suffered the same fate. Judging by how things felt down there, he was fairly certain little D.J. was ready for action.

“OK, I’m clean now, as are you,” Kelly said. “You may kiss me.” D.J. was surprised by her directness. He tried to boldly grab and kiss her like Bogart on a runway, but she gently pushed him back. “Slow down. I said kiss, not make out. That’s strike one. Don’t push your luck. Now go dry off and head to my bed. Lay down and wait.”

The waiting period felt endless, though it was likely only about 10 minutes. First, the lights dimmed and shifted to a reddish tone. Kelly emerged wearing a corset that lifted her impressive breasts even higher while accentuating her curves. She wore a garter belt, no panties, stockings, and patent leather boots covering her calves, all with heels of at least four inches.

She looked like a dominatrix from the online porn he watched. He’d never seen a woman look so natural in such an outfit; usually, they appeared to be wearing costumes. This felt like the real Kelly.

As she approached, he could tell she held something in her hand, though the dim light made it hard to see until she got closer. It was a riding crop. “Holy shit,” he thought. “I went to the grocery store and ended up in a porno.”

“Now, I think we’ve already established that we do what I want. Dinner. Coming here. Showering. I believe it’s clear who is in charge. So let’s set some rules.”

“O..o…o.k.,” D.J. stammered.

“First, this is about my pleasure, not yours. You do not cum unless expressly told to. Is that understood?”

“Yyyyes.”

“Second, you must call me Goddess when we are in this room. Your only words should be ‘Yes, Goddess,’ ‘No, Goddess,’ or ‘I do not understand, Goddess.’ The safe word options are acceptable too. If I am pushing you too far, say ‘yellow.’ It’s like a stop light; it warns me that things are getting uncomfortable. If you want the entire scene to stop completely, say ‘red.’ Know this: if you use red, we’re done for the night. And yes, there will be more nights ahead after tonight. Do you understand so far?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“Good boy. Tonight is your test. I’m going to tie your ankles and wrists to see exactly how far I can push you. Pass this test, and you may become my main boy.”

His head swam. Main boy? Like she has others? He resisted asking for fear it didn’t fit the limited words he was allowed.

“Tonight I will bring you repeatedly to the edge of cumming. But you must let me know before you do, and I will stop. This is called edging. It will be frustrating but very enjoyable. I’ll also test your oral skills to see how you rank among my boys.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Oh, you see, I have three boyfriends. You are potentially number four. Whoever can make me cum best with their tongue gets to cum themselves more often. The others do not get that luxury as much. And trust me, being ranked fourth is no small thing,” she winked. “You don’t want to be Number Four.”

Over the next several hours, she stroked him, sucked him, rode him, and cropped his thighs and balls; he managed not to cum. During breaks from her torture of withheld pleasure, she sat on his face. He ate her with abandon because he did not want to be Number Four.

As it grew late, she had cummed at least a dozen times while riding his tongue. He felt pretty satisfied in that department, and she seemed pleased too.

“OK, D.J., you have done well. I think you deserve to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“However, you face a decision. You can cum right now and accept being ranked Number Four because you are the new guy, or you can hold it and claim the rank earned by your tongue. Either way, when you go home tonight, you will be mine. You will not cum for any other woman again, ever—at least not without my approval. I might loan you to a friend here or there.”

D.J. gulped.

“So, cum now or hold it and find your true rank? Speak freely.”

“I’ll hold it, Goddess.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect that. Very courageous of you. You realize this means you may not cum for a while, don’t you?”

“Yes, Goddess,” D.J. answered, knowing full well he would jack off as soon as he got home.

“OK, your rank for now is Two. That shall be your name as well; I’ll call you Two. Tomorrow, you’ll meet One. And by ‘meet,’ I mean you’ll suck his cock for me.”

“I’m not gay,” D.J. interjected.

He immediately regretted it as the crop smacked hard against his scrotum. “THAT IS NOT ONE OF YOUR ACCEPTABLE PHRASES,” Kelly said sternly.

“Look, outside my home, you are D.J., and I am Kelly. Inside this house, you are Two, and I am Goddess. Outside the home, nobody knows that I own your cock. Inside the home—and inside your head—you know I do. So understand: sucking cock doesn’t make you gay; it makes you submissive. It marks you as a good boy who does as he’s told—one who may get to cum soon. Oh, and there is one more thing. Would you like to know what it is?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“Before I untie you, I’m going to ice your cock down until it’s soft, then put you in a chastity device. See, I knew you were thinking, ‘I’ll just go jack off at home.’ Nope. The cock is mine. You don’t touch it like that without permission. Are you familiar with chastity devices?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“Speak freely: what is your experience with them?”

“I’ve seen them online, Goddess. I follow some chastity blogs on Tumblr. But I’ve never been in one or even considered it. I’m not a sissy boy like they usually are in the pictures online.”

“I didn’t say you were a sissy. Nor would I want you to be one. But now you are an owned boy. Bet you didn’t think you’d find that at Whole Foods.”

“No, Goddess.”

“Do you mean ‘no’ as in you didn’t expect it? Or ‘no’ as in you don’t want to be my number Two boy?”

“No, I didn’t expect it. And I do not want to be the Number Two boy.”

“Oh, if you aren’t interested, I’ll untie you and you can go home. I expect your discretion regarding my lifestyle, and we’ll both live our happy lives.”

“I want to be number One.”

Kelly smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

She returned with a bag of ice and a device just like the ones he’d seen online. The ice was necessary because even thinking about it was making him get harder again. She slipped his balls through a ring, tucked his cock through it, and placed the cage over his now flaccid shaft.

“This is the fun part,” Kelly smiled. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,

“Goddess.” The sound of the lock clicking shut echoed. A sudden wave of panic washed over him. He understood that he was unable to relieve himself, even if he tried. His pulse quickened and his breathing became shallower.

Kelly gently stroked his cheek with a tender voice. “Now, do not be afraid, boy. You remain in the position of Two. This means you must keep it on for just two weeks before you are freed to climax. Poor Four has to endure four weeks each time around. He was ahead of you as Three. He will likely resent learning that I have taken another boy.”

She held up two keys, letting them jingle near him. “These belong to your cock. One key stays with me always; the other is secured in my safe so it isn’t misplaced. You will be released after two weeks, provided you do not shift ranks. If you manage to surpass One for that top spot, you will be fortunate indeed. The one at the head does not need to perform oral service and can climax whenever he chooses. Being One is certainly what you desire.”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“Very well, Two. I am going to free your restraint now. Put on some clothes while I drive you back to your vehicle. Continue with your daily routine as usual; I will contact you often for updates. We shall meet at least once before the two weeks are up and you are unlocked. I plan to assess your mental state every day.”

D.J. returned home, where his dog welcomed him warmly. His pet’s life seemed unchanged by all this drama. Yet he knew things would never be quite the same for him again. Still, a smile played on his lips; contentment was evident.

TO BE CONTINUED

Very Nice! I enjoyed reading it.

Good story. Needs some editing for grammar, but not a lot.

> member_1f353e1d87 wrote: Good story. Needs some editing for grammar, but not a lot. I'm quite positive there are grammatical and spelling errors. It was stream-of-consciousness writing and I didn't even re-read it for what little editing may have come from that. Just written and posted in about 40 minutes.

> member_1f353e1d87 wrote: Only 40 minutes? Damn, it takes me a lot longer to get ideas out. Looks good for such a short time, much better than some stuff I've seen... Damn, only forty minutes? It definitely takes me way more time to pull my thoughts together. For that little amount of effort, the result looks pretty solid—much nicer than some other things I’ve come across.

Great story. Can't wait to see what happens next.

> member_1f353e1d87 wrote: Only 40 minutes? Damn, it takes me a lot longer to get ideas out. Looks good for such a short time, much better than some stuff I've seen... I type fast and when it's unedited stream-of-consciousness stuff, it comes out fast. That makes sense; my typing speed helps, especially with that loose style. Plus, I often write myself into a corner and struggle to get back out, so forty minutes is actually quite impressive for me!