The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  “No,” I told him, lifting the page, so he could see and pointing directly at the list of soft limits.

  He frowned. “Chey, I really want you to try those things. Just once. If you don't like them, we'll put them back on the list of hard limits.”

  “You tried to trick me with this. You should be the one punished.”

  Damien's mouth twisted into a grin. “Alright, you got me there. Part of me did hope you wouldn't read it.”

  “That's horribly horribly wrong of you. Is it normal for a Dominant to be so deceptive?”

  “No,” he admitted. “And I know it was wrong. Is wrong. But you're really missing out if you don't try those things.”

  “I'm well aware of that. Stop being a bad Dominant. Move then where they belong, or I don't sign.”

  Though I was a bit upset, the whole flow of the conversation was playful. It was amusing to see he'd resort to such trickery to get what he wanted. Then again, he had tried to slip his cock in my butt a few times, so maybe I had given him too much credit. Damien could be a sneaky one.

  “Fine,” he said, standing up and leaving the room.

  For a moment, I thought he was actually mad that I had seen through his little scheme, but then I decided it didn't matter. He should have known better, and he would certainly get over it.

  Damien returned minutes later with several items in hand: a piece of paper, a chain collar, and a small box. He only handed me the paper and then went to sit back down. When I looked at it, I noticed it was a revised list of my hard and soft limits, with everything in the right place.

  “You anticipated I'd find out,” I muttered.

  “I did.”

  “I feel like I should read this whole thing again, just in case you slipped something else in there I don't approve of.”

  “Nothing else is out of the ordinary, I promise.”

  I gave him a suspicious glance. “If it is, can I punish you?”

  He laughed. “You really don't trust me that much?”

  “Not after this.” I flicked the contract.

  “Chey, I promise. There's nothing else sneaky.”

  “Good. Give me a pen then. I think I'm ready.”

  “Are you sure you don't want to discuss any of the stuff in there first?”

  “I'm sure. I think I can handle this.”

  “Alright.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and handed it to me. When we had both signed the contract, he offered the chain collar to me. “Take off your collar of consideration. This is going to be your new training collar.”

  I tried not to frown as I took it from him. The thing was thick and heavy in my hand, and I knew it would be nowhere near as comfortable as the leather collar. Part of me wanted to ask if I could just keep the one I had, but I knew that wasn't how this worked.

  Fastening it around my neck signified the next step in our relationship, and despite the fact I didn't particularly like the training collar, putting it on did fill me with a strange sense of accomplishment. Things were progressing as they should. Six months in training, and I would be getting my formal collar—the wedding ring collar. Damien Reed would belong to me, and I would belong to him in a very official sense. That was all that mattered.

  My heart sped up as Damien offered me the box. For a moment, I hesitated, fearing my own reaction. No matter what was inside, I could not show disappointment or seem ungrateful. As my Dominant, Damien could make me wear whatever he wanted.

  When the lid came open though, relief rushed through me. The collar inside looked more like a piece of costume jewelry. A braided strip of black leather formed a choker, bound at the back by a small padlock. Attached to the front of the collar was a silver infinity charm inlaid with white rhinestones.

  “It's . . . lovely,” I said, pulling it out of the box and then looking under the lining for a key to the padlock.

  “I have the key,” he told me.

  “Do you want me to put it on now?”

  “No. It will only be used for when we're out in public together.”

  “Like when we go to the munch?”

  “Yes.” He paused, “Do you know what that symbol is?”

  “It's the infinity symbol.”

  “That's correct. I chose it because I hope we'll be together for eternity.”

  I swooned at his words. In a fit of emotion, I crossed the space between us, wrapping my arms around his neck and giving him a gracious kiss. He looked genuinely shocked by my actions.

  “I love it,” I told him, feeling suddenly childish for my dramatic reaction to his words.

  Damien smiled warmly at me. “I'm glad.”

  I slipped back over to my side of the sofa and placed the collar carefully in its box, admiring it for a moment more before I closed the lid. A symbol of Damien's love, or at least his desire for us to be together. Strangely, I could hardly wait to wear it.

  “Now that the fun part is over, it's time for your punishment,” he said.

  In that moment, I was so stupidly happy I didn't even care. Nothing was going to ruin my mood.

  Damien continued, “Since I did kind of try to deceive you, I've decided to be merciful. Technically, with all of your recent slip-ups, you've earned about an hour of punishment. I'll reduce your sentence to thirty minutes though, and even give you a chance to reduce it further.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I said gratefully, setting the box down on the coffee table.

  “I'm going to ask you two questions about your previous vocabulary words. For each one you answer correctly, I'll subtract ten minutes from your punishment time. However, if you get one wrong, I'll add ten minutes, so instead of being punished for thirty minutes, it will be for forty minutes. If you get them both wrong, you'll be punished for fifty minutes. If you get them both right, you'll only have to endure ten minutes. If you get one wrong and one right, then you'll be back at thirty minutes. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I nodded. While I understood, it didn't seem like much of an improvement if I lost. What was it with Damien and all these games he liked to play?

  “Your first word is auction.”

  Maybe he was taking it easy on me. This word, I remembered.

  “An auction is a meeting where Dominants get together to auction off their slaves and submissives for a specified period of time,” I replied with confidence.

  “Very good. Ten minutes down. Now your punishment can't be more than thirty minutes. Your next term is black sheet party.”

  I took a deep breath. This one was a bit more difficult. “A black sheet party is a party for those into the BDSM lifestyle,” my answer sounded more like a question. I couldn't help but feel like I was leaving something important out.

  “No.” Damien shook his head. “A black sheet part is an orgy for people who are into BDSM.”

  Damn. Oh well, thirty minutes was still better than an hour.

  “Cheyenne, I only give you ten words at a time to memorize. Is it really that difficult?” He arched an eyebrow at me.

  Here was the degradation I had grown to expect. Damien was in full Dom mode now. I could see it in his eyes.

  “Sir, please do keep in mind that I have a full load of college work I also have to concentrate on during the week.”

  “I do keep that in mind. It's why I give you only ten words instead of fifty to memorize.”

  Holy crap. Would he actually expect me to memorize that many in a week? It wasn't impossible, but seemed a bit excessive. I hoped he wouldn't be upping the load during my holiday vacation.

  “I'm ready for my punishment, Sir,” I said, bowing my head respectfully. The sooner it was over with, the sooner with could get on to things that were more fun, like perhaps a round two in the bedroom.

  Damien pulled something from his pocket. I stared at it curiously. A tennis ball. What did he plan to do with that?

  He held it up, so I could see it. “I want you to take this over to the wall and use your nose to keep it in place against the wall. No hands. Each
time you drop it, another ten minutes gets added to your time. Do you understand?”

  You've got to be fucking kidding me. There was no way I was going to be able to hold that thing in place for thirty minutes. What happened to him being lenient?

  “Sir, if you may forgive me for saying so, I don't think I'm going to be able to accomplish this task without dropping the ball several times.”

  He handed the small thing over to me. “Think of this as a lesson in your bodily discipline. You'll get better at it with time.”

  I scowled. “But what if I drop it fifty times?”

  “Then I hope you're prepared to spend the night. To the wall with you.” He waved me away dismissively.

  While I had wanted to spend the night with Damien almost since I had met him, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Grudgingly, I took the ball and headed over to the nearest wall, not even looking back to make sure the place I had picked pleased him. With a sigh, I positioned the ball against the wall, then pressed my nose to it, refusing to let go until I felt certain it wouldn't roll away.

  “Put your hands behind your back. I'll let you know when the time is up,” he told me.

  I dropped the ball for the first time five minutes in when my nose started itching. My heart sank as it landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Ten more minutes was added to my punishment time.

  Damien sat on the sofa for a while, reading something on his phone and watching me in his peripheral vision. Eventually, he left to take a shower, warning me that he'd know if I cheated. That's when the ball dropped a second time thanks to me scowling. He had to have cameras planted in the room if he was making that threat. And I didn't put it past him to watch them after I left.

  The happiness from my swooning at his loving words faded away with my continued submission to his punishment. Damien entered and left the room several times, and I could have sworn he was purposely trying to make me mess up. While the thought brought me even more discontent, I didn't dare to show it, lest the ball drop again.

  Minutes felt like hours standing as still as a statue. I tried to imagine watching a movie from start to finish while I waited, though my brain seemed to have the fast-forward button pressed. Then I repeated the words 'Yes, Sir' in my head about two dozen times. After that, I decided to count to pass the time, having nothing better to do. Every time I dropped the ball, the count started over.

  My feet ached, and I shifted my weight. The ball fell. Damien entered the room. The ball fell. My nose got a twitch. The ball fell. A random shiver rolled down my spine. The ball fell.

  I was quickly becoming tired. How long had I stood there? How much longer would I have to stand there? How many more times would the ball fall? I was beginning to think Damien was serious about keeping me there all night. His kindness had turned into cruelty. Instead of standing against the wall for only thirty minutes, I was certain I had been there for well over an hour.

  Finally, Damien walked into the room and announced that my punishment was over. I sighed in relief, stepping back and catching the ball in my hand as it fell a final time.

  “Now what must you do?” he asked me.

  “Thank you for my punishment, Sir. I was punished because I continued to forget to call you Sir. I will do my best not to make the same mistake again.”

  “Good girl. It's late. Bring me your definitions and then you can go home. Oh, and you have a second set of definitions to write that I want turned in tomorrow afternoon. Do you remember the term you forgot?”

  “Yes, Sir. Black sheet party. It's an orgy between those within the BDSM lifestyle.”

  “Excellent. You are dismissed.”

  Exhausted, I quickly hurried to my car to retrieve my vocabulary homework. When I turned it into Damien, he looked at it with no hint of approval. It must have satisfied him well enough though, because he didn't say anything further.

  Afterward, he led me to the door. All hints of perversion that had been in my mind before my punishment had faded away. The only thing I was thinking about now was going home and relaxing for the rest of the afternoon in a less stuffy environment. For as much as I wanted to be by Damien's side, moments like this made me doubt myself. I hated his punishments, even though he made me lie and say I was thankful for them. It was all part of my training though. Hopefully, someday he wouldn't need to punish me anymore.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  My stomach twisted nervously as I got ready for the munch the following day. Even though Damien told me I could dress casually, I still wasn't sure what to wear. Would my normal style be looked at as too conservative? I could only imagine that most of the other submissives, if not all of them, would probably be in sexy attire to please their Masters.

  That made me wonder if Damien actually liked how I dressed. While the formal contract contained a clause about him being able to choose clothing for me, he had never spoken on the subject. He was pretty straight forward, so I imagined that if my wardrobe displeased him, he would have said something about it by now.

  With a sigh, I picked a black blouse and matching pencil skirt from my closest. If I wasn't going to dress sexy, the least I could do was dress in all black. Isn't that what most BDSM people wore? I wasn't sure. Most of the time, Damien just sported jeans and a T-shirt. Bah, whatever. I was done thinking about it.

  Once I was dressed, I fastened my public collar around my neck and checked myself out in the mirror. My fingers lightly grazed the rhinestones, admiring how they shimmered in the lamplight. Infinity. He wants to be with me for infinity. It was an endearing thought, one of the few things that kept me going after the previous afternoon's punishment. I will never forget to call him Sir again. I will try harder, to be a better submissive, to please him and avoid punishment.

  Damien looked ready to go when I arrived at his door. He opened it with a smile, which was unusual. He's excited about this, I realized. Maybe he's excited about showing me off. Or perhaps he's just happy for us to be going out in public together, the same that I am.

  Like a perfect gentleman, he led me to his Corvette, and then opened the door for me to step inside.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked as we pulled out of the driveway.

  “I'm not really sure how to act around these people,” I admitted.

  “Just act as you normally would. This is a very casual event. There's nothing to worry about.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You look beautiful, by the way.” The words sounded awkward coming from his lips, as if he wasn't sure if he should say them or not.

  “Thank you, Sir.” I smiled.

  The rest of the drive was spent in silence. Part of me wanted to turn his radio on so we'd have noise to fill the void, but I was too afraid of punishment.

  We pulled up at the location, which looked like a mix between a bar and a restaurant. I had heard of the place before, but had never been. It was downtown, and I very rarely ventured downtown.

  Tension built inside my chest as we got out of the car and walked to the restaurant door. Though Damien had told me that these people would be normal, I still wasn't quite sure what to expect. An image of leather-clad fetishists insisted on invading my mind, but I knew that wasn't right.

  Damien asked the hostess if our party had arrived. I stuck to his side as we were guided through the building and into a room that was partially closed off from the rest of the restaurant. Several tables had been pushed together to accommodate our group. It was a small gathering, much smaller than I had anticipated.

  As expected, everyone was older than me. Instead of being the leather-bound crowd I had imagined, they were all dressed in normal attire, and they all wore smiles, greeting us brightly. Most of them seemed to know Damien, standing up to shake his hand or give him a hug. He introduced me as his submissive in training, and I bowed my head respectfully, only answering questions that were asked of me, too nervous to engage in further conversation.

  We seated ourselves at the end of the table, and I listened to Damien make
idle chitchat while we waited for the rest of the party to arrive. The conversation was just as casual as the dress code, mainly involving talk about what had been going on in their lives since the last time they had all seen each other. I kept my eyes to the table, somehow feeling anxious despite all the friendly faces around me.

  “Damien Reed,” a woman's voice said as if the name amazed her. “Isn't this a pleasant surprise?”

  When I looked up, a cold chill stabbed at my heart. I knew this woman, had seen her before—in his sex video.

  The way she looked at Damien spoke volumes about her desire, and when she embraced him, she held onto him too tightly, for too long. In my mind, I was prying them apart, pushing her away from him, telling her she already had her chance. For whatever reason, they weren't together anymore. He belonged to me now—to me and me alone, and I didn't share.

  “Danica, this is Cheyenne, my submissive in training,” Damien told her as he broke away from her inappropriate hug and gestured to me.

  I stood, though I wasn't sure why. Maybe I thought it was the respectful thing to do. Or perhaps I purposely wanted to wedge my body between them. Whatever the case, it seemed to work. They took a step back from one another as Danica reached out to shake my hand.

  “My replacement,” she said, sounding only the slightest hint bitter. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”