His To Have

by Devon Birchley

  I stiffen. We’ve never talked about anyone else being involved in our games, and I don’t think I like the idea of it.

  “Were you saying you want your friend to join in?” I ask him later, when we’re lying in bed.

  He smiles. “Would you like that?”

  I bite down on my lower lip, wanting to say no, but unsure whether it’s something I should agree to as his sub. “Would you?” I say instead.

  “No. I would enjoy watching you being tied up, but when it comes to sex, I want you all to myself.” My chest flutters. I want him all to myself. All the time. I love being his submissive. I love looking at him, kissing him, and spending time with him. I love the way we have dinner together and watch movies. When he’s not being a merciless dom, he’s kind and courteous and fun. In practically all the important ways, he’s like a boyfriend. Except that he’s not my boyfriend.

  “Come here,” he says and holds me in his arms. I’ve started to feel like a puppy during these moments, cherished and pampered, but not his equal, and unable to make any claims on him.

  A couple of weeks pass, and Adler continues to push my boundaries further and further. I never know what to expect when I arrive at his door, quickly strip off my clothes, then ring his doorbell. I wonder if he plans a whole scene before I arrive, or if it’s all spontaneous. He always has new games, new ways of humiliating me, making me submit. He’s not a sadist, I’m pretty sure. He doesn’t like to hurt me for the sake of it. If he whips me until my skin breaks, it’s because I’m stubborn, and all he wants is to see me beg. He enjoys making me choose between two equally uncomfortable things. For example, either being left bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the bench for an hour, or deep-throating his cock all the way to the hilt. Either keeping an excruciatingly painful set of nipple clamps on for an extra ten minutes, or submitting to a beating with a wooden paddle, my least favorite implement.

  I worry that I won’t keep him satisfied, that I’m not as good a submissive as the other girls he’s had, and every day, I work at being better, at holding my body just the way he wants it, at taking his cock deep in my throat without throwing up, at taking his cock in my ass with little preparation.

  And every day, my heart twists as I fall for him a little more. Sometimes I don’t want to meet him because, as ecstatic and delirious as I feel after sex, a few minutes later, a chasm opens up in my soul at the knowledge that he’s not really mine. And every little generosity from him is a bitter little reminder of how perfect things could be if he didn’t have a weird aversion to relationships.

  “Maybe it’s a conversation you need to have?” Monica suggests. She’s given up telling me not to fall for him because I’m clearly a lost case.

  “No. Absolutely not.” I’m shaking my head vigorously, even though she can’t see me. “I agreed to this arrangement. If I go back on it now, he’ll just stop seeing me altogether. I can feel it. He’s really”—I search for the right word—“aloof. Like, he’s so kind to me, but I feel that he’s like that with everyone. If I freak him out by confessing my feelings, he’ll probably go out and replace me the same day.”

  “Well I think you’re wrong. But I also know you’re as stubborn as all hell,” she replies.

  One night, Adler doesn’t seem to want to play. When he greets me at the door, there are dark shadows under his eyes and a tightness in his jaw. He orders pizza and takes me onto his lap to watch a movie instead.

  “I have to go away for two weeks the week after next,” he tells me as I get into his bed, feeling oddly chaste. “But before that, there’s a Kinky State Ball, and I was wondering if you wanted to go?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a fetish ball. There’s always a theme, but you can wear whatever you like, as long as it’s latex or leather or in some way pervy. There are also playrooms, and usually a couples’ room where you can have sex.”

  “It sounds wild.”

  “It is. It’s a lot of fun.” He plays with a strand of my hair. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “So…you want to play with me there?”

  “Playing in public can be a lot of fun.”

  “What if I saw someone I knew there?”

  “You’re thinking about your boss, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You could wear a mask.”

  “Really?” I’m quiet for a moment, turning things over. “What would you want me to wear?”

  “I’d like you to be naked, wearing my collar with a leash. Wrist and ankle cuffs. And a mask if you wanted.”

  “You can be naked if you want?”

  “Yup.”

  I imagine myself like that, so many strangers looking at my body.

  “You’d feel very vulnerable. But no-one would touch you. I’ll see to that.” His voice hardens, and I imagine him leading me around, showing everyone that I belong to him. My clit jumps.

  “You like that idea, don’t you?”

  I make a small sound.

  “And after I parade you around and get you all hot and worked up, I’ll take you to the playroom and whip you a little. And then everyone will see the red stripes on your ass.” My breath catches and I can hardly breathe. He pushes me down on the bed, holds me down with a hand on the base of my throat, and enters me roughly. “And then maybe I’ll screw you senseless.” He fucks me hard, mercilessly, until we both come.

  By the following morning, I’ve decided I want to go to the ball. Part of me wonders if he’d still go if I didn’t, find another submissive to take instead. I look at the Kinky State website and see lots of impossibly beautiful people in elaborate outfits. The ball happens every two months or so. Does he always attend? Sitting in the restroom at work, I flick through the photos from the past year, but can’t see him. The giant knot I currently have in my stomach is jealousy and insecurity. But this is what I’ve wanted all along, to be out with him in a public place, as if we’re a real couple. And now I’m ruining it. I need to get my shit together.

  I message him saying I want to go, but I need an outfit. I can’t do naked. As much as the thought turns me on, I just can’t. He replies a couple of hours later.

  Excellent news. Leave it with me.

  When I get home from work the following day, there’s a delivery. Inside the package is a large pink box with a Japanese name written on it, and inside the box is a beautiful dress made entirely of rubber. It’s an indigo-colored sheath with a lace pattern printed on it, knee-length, with a halter-neck and a very low back. I hold it up in awe. I never would’ve guessed that rubber could be so delicate. There’s a sheet of instructions on caring for it and putting it on, and I powder the inside and step into it carefully. Then I look in the mirror. Wow. I look sexy. I’m no longer the eternal girl next door. I look wicked and dark. It flatters my figure perfectly, even making my breasts thrust forward more than usual. He knows my size. It’s not a huge surprise since he has amazing attention to detail. All his BDSM equipment is exactly the right fit for me. The sex swing was perfectly adjusted to our heights before I ever laid eyes on it. I often wonder whether he’s a crazy perfectionist in everything he does. I can’t keep this dress to myself. I go into the living room, and Dom lets out a scream.

  “Oh my god! You look unbelievable, girl! That dress was made for you! Is it a Haruna Makiko?”

  “I think so.”

  “That’s some expensive shit.” She’s looking at me in deep admiration. “Did you get a pay rise?”

  “Nope. It’s a gift from Adler, the guy I’ve been dating.”

  “Mmm, the man of mystery.”

  My cheeks warm. “It’s for the Kinky State Ball. Have you heard of it?”

  “I’ve been a few times. It’s one of my favorite events. Annnnd I just happen to be performing there this Saturday! It’s only a small gig, but I’m real happy to be there.”

  My mouth falls open. I’m not sure whether to be horrified or relieved that she’s going.

  “So I’ll finally get
to meet him?”

  I perch on an arm of the couch, take a deep breath. “Um, yes. I’m sorry I’ve been elusive about him. We just have an unconventional arrangement. And I was a little embarrassed.”

  Dominique’s eyes dance. “Say no more. Is it the guy you met at the Sexpo?”

  “Yes. But how did you guess?”

  She shrugs. “You’ve just seemed different since then. Happier, more relaxed. Show me a photo?” The only photo I have of him is one I took, like some obsessive maniac, while he was asleep, and I’ve been feeling incredibly guilty about it ever since. Nevertheless, I show her and watch for her reaction.

  “Classy, Rea.” She giggles. “Wait…I know him, I think.”

  There’s a little jolt of adrenaline in my chest. “How?”

  “A friend of mine used to be his sub.”

  “What, really? Was it—was it a good experience?” I ask, not sure what I should be asking, but desperate to know something.

  Her lips tighten. “She said he was an amazing dom. But she totally fell for him, which wasn’t what she’d planned at all. She ended up confessing her feelings, and he told her he didn’t feel the same. It was a total headfuck for her, and she stopped seeing him. Even now she can’t stand the sight of him.”

  “Wow.”

  “Have fun, girl. I’m sure you are. And he’s such a hottie. But make sure you keep that heart of yours safe.”

  I smile weakly, but my stomach is totally churning. When I get back to my room, I surprise myself by bursting into tears. He’s probably got a whole trail of broken hearts looking back at him. I pull the dress off as quickly as I can and stuff it back in the box. And I’m just one more silly girl falling for those caramel eyes, which hide an unyielding will.

  13

  All week I wrestle with my feelings. I should just stop this right now. Before I get any deeper into it. But Adler messages me more often than usual, telling me how much he’s looking forward to taking me to the ball. I begin to sense that it has some symbolic significance to him. When I meet him on the Thursday before, he’s rougher and more possessive than ever, fucking me more-or-less all night long. As soon as I walk through the door, he pushes me to the ground, and forces himself into me fast enough to make me yell out. And that’s the theme of the evening. His cock is hard and relentless, and he doesn’t quit until he’s come once in my pussy, once in my mouth, and once in my ass. His hands are rough on my body, but he doesn’t whip me.

  “I want you to look your best on Saturday,” he says, massaging some lotion into my tender ass cheeks.

  Saturday arrives. I sleep well the night before, but all day I’m restless and on edge.

  “See you later!” Dominique calls gleefully as I head to Adler’s house late afternoon. As I arrive, I receive a text telling me not to get undressed. There’s a woman waiting for me—a make-up artist. I’m so relieved since my skills are limited to doing smoky eye shadow. I’m also touched by Adler’s thoughtfulness and generosity.

  I sit on one of the kitchen stools and Caitlyn spends an hour doing my face and hair. And when she’s done, I don’t recognize myself. I look incredible, and kind of sinister. Like a geisha crossed with an evil doll. My face is very pale with little, red button lips, and my eyebrows are dramatic black slashes reaching almost to my hairline. Pinkish-red eye shadow covers my entire eye area from my eyebrows all the way down to the bottom of my cheeks where it fades out so it looks like blush. My hair is up in an elaborate series of knots and coils. Even Jeremy wouldn’t recognize me if he saw me tonight.

  Adler gets styled too with some clever use of shadow that makes his face look lean and angular, and his hair is slicked back with a pomade. His outfit is a black military jacket with silver buttons and a mandarin collar, matched with black leather pants. He looks commanding and a little cruel. It’s delicious. His eyes fill with desire when I put the dress on and step into my heels.

  “You look even more stunning than I expected,” he says. I look at the finished product in the mirror. I felt nervous all day, but now with the make-up disguise, I feel sexy. I can be anyone tonight.

  Adler comes and stands behind me, putting his arms around my waist. “We look like a good couple, don’t we?” he murmurs. My stomach lurches. Because we do. And because we’re not. “There will be a lot of eyes on you tonight. Don’t forget who you belong to.” He produces my collar and buckles it around my neck. It’s heavy, too heavy to forget about, and the thought of other people seeing it and knowing that it’s an ownership collar brings a frisson of arousal.

  We have dinner. Chicken and rice—so you’ll have energy, but it won’t bloat you. He thinks of everything. While I painstakingly reapply my lipstick, he mixes up a couple of vodka tonics, which takes the edge off my lingering nerves.

  “Let’s go to the ball,” he says, taking my hand and leading me out of the house.

  The taxi driver rolls his eyes at us, and I start giggling because I feel like I temporarily belong to a different world—a liberated, unpredictable one where anything is possible.

  Adler starts laughing, too. “I love the way people get freaked out by a little bit of latex and make up,” he says. He lifts my hand and kisses it. “You look so beautiful. I can’t wait to show you off.”

  My heart gives a little jump. “Will some of your friends be there?”

  “A couple, maybe,” he says, as if he doesn’t care one way or the other. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t name a single one of his friends. He never tells me about nights out, and while I’m sure he has people over to his place some nights, the house is always immaculately tidy, and there are no signs that anyone else has been there.

  He’s different again tonight, excitable and chatty. I try to put my nerves aside and match his mood.

  We pull up in front of a row of railway arches. There’s a small open door with a line of people in big coats and crazy hair waiting outside. My dress feels very restrictive as I climb out of the taxi. Adler takes my hand.

  “Relax,” he breathes into my ear, and suddenly I do. As if it’s a command, spoken deep into my soul. We don’t have to line up; he has some kind of VIP tickets. As we pass through the door, a cavernous space opens up. Wow. I’ve walked past these arches on the street many times, and I never would’ve guessed that all this lay inside. As we wait at the coat check, I catch a glimpse of the interior, a riot of colorful latex and bare flesh, moving in time to heavy electro, and I’m suddenly impatient to reveal my own outfit.

  Adler pauses to kiss me before we enter the main room.

  “You look unbelievably beautiful,” he murmurs. “This is your night, Reagan. And I want it to be the wildest, most exciting night of your life.”

  The décor is incredible. There are installations along the walls, hanging from the ceilings, everywhere. Most of them with a heart theme. I’d completely forgotten that it’s the valentine’s ball.

  The place is full of beautiful people. There are some girls so impossibly tall and stunning that they must be models. My head snaps from side to side as I see evil nurses, corrupted nuns, spine-chilling gas masks, and full-body latex suits. There are lots of bare breasts and asses, and at least two naked girls. One is wearing nothing more than a leash and long boots. The other is wearing a leather bra with open cups and straps around the waist and the top of her thighs in an imitation of panties. The sight of them makes me hot and a little uncomfortable. I feel both relieved and envious not to be them.

  “Do you wish I was naked?” I ask Adler.

  He lays an arm around my waist. “No. I want you to feel like a princess tonight.”

  Tingles run through my body. I do feel like a princess on the arm of this incredibly sexy man. Lots of admiring glances are thrown in our direction. I’m wearing his collar and everyone can see that I belong to him. I like this feeling a lot.

  “How about we get drinks and I give you a tour?”

  There’s a small, speakeasy-style bar, and he gets us Champagne cocktails in old-fashioned glasses.


  “I love this!” I say. “It’s like a classy event and a kinky playground all rolled into one.”

  He smiles, and I can tell he’s relieved that I like it here. “A little different from the Sexpo, isn’t it? You’ll get the occasional douche in here. A couple of guys always get kicked out for inappropriate touching, but most people are very cool and respectful.”

  “Hey, bro!” a loud, drawling voice calls, and a guy dressed as a circus ringmaster appears in front of us.

  “Hey, Callum!” Adler replies with warmth as they clap each other on the back. “Callum, meet Reagan.”

  Callum flashes me a huge grin and air-kisses me on both cheeks. “Don’t worry, I won’t mess up your make-up,” he says. “So, you’re the reason why we haven’t seen this boy for a long time.”

  I open my mouth and close it again, having no idea how to respond to that.

  “Yes, she is,” Adler says, sliding his arm around my waist. What? I almost say.

  “And who could blame you?” Callum nods, graciously. “I’ll catch you both later.” And he’s gone again.

  “Callum’s a good guy,” Adler explains. “We’ve been friends for a few years.”

  “He seems like fun,” I say, although I really want to ask what he meant. I’m confused and kind of stunned.

  After that, somebody comes up to us every few seconds, greeting Adler with affection. Adler knows a hell of a lot of people. And I feel obscurely proud at the way that he immediately introduces me. His friends seem nice, full of compliments, and several of them remark they haven’t seen him for a long time. But they don’t hang around, and I get the sense that he holds them at a distance.

  There’s one big, dark dance room playing techno. It has a stage at the front where the performances will be, he explains. There are two smaller dance rooms as well, one full of video screens showing some very freaky porn and another playing trance. Everyone in there seems to be lost in euphoria, arms waving like tentacles, eyes blanked out like untuned TVs. “They’ll be there all night,” Adler says with a grin.