The Virgin Dating Game

by Sky Corgan

  Damien continued, “There are two other types of collars, the collar of protection and the scene collar. The collar of protection is exactly what it sounds like. It basically places the submissive under the protection of the Dominant. Sometimes, Dominants use this as the first step in the process before the collar of consideration.

  “A scene collar is one used for scene play. It's a temporary collar that grants a Dominant power over a submissive for a specified period of time, usually long enough to act out a scene. During that time, the submissive is bound to the rules of the Dominant. It's more prevalent between Dominants who share submissives and those who sell scene services.”

  “That's a bit confusing.” Everything he was saying now was going way over my head. “So, I won't get the collar of protection, but I will get the scene collar?”

  “Unless you agree to be shared with another Dominant, which if I remember from the answers to your questionnaire, was something you did not want, then you won't be getting a scene collar.”

  “No. I don't want to be shared.” I quickly shook my head. The idea of being handed off to a stranger didn't exactly repulse me, but I was worried I wouldn't get to choose who he shared me with.

  “Do you have anymore questions about collars?” he asked.

  “I'm not really sure I understand what the collar of protection is for exactly, or what a scene is.”

  Damien made a strange face, as if searching for a better explanation. “The collar of protection isn't very common. It's mostly used for submissives who have just come out of abusive relationships. It makes the unowned submissive unapproachable for consideration by other Dominants while still maintaining their submissive position within the D/s community. So, basically, the submissive is not owned by the Dominant who places a collar of protection on her. She is merely shielded by him, which gives her time to heal from her previous relationship before moving on to a new one.”

  “Wow. This crap gets kind of complex. Is there a lot of abuse in the D/s community?”

  “Not usually, but as with all things, there are a few bad apples in the barrel.”

  “So then, the Dominant who puts the collar of protection on a submissive usually eventually ends up taking her on as his submissive. That's why the collar of protection sometimes comes before the collar of consideration.”

  “Pretty much. You're catching on well.”

  “Thank you.” I beamed, pleased with the compliment.

  Damien continued, “A scene is basically a session of sadism and masochism play. The session is set up so the Dominant can inflict pain on the submissive for their pleasure. If you've ever watched a movie where a man pays a Dominatrix to punish him, that's a scene. Of course, payment isn't necessary for a scene to take place. Many Dominants engage in scenes with their submissives for their pleasure.”

  “I don't like pain,” I muttered.

  “That's not true.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “I think I'd know if I liked pain or not.”

  “You like being spanked.”

  “That's not very painful.”

  “Pain doesn't have to be intense for it to still be pain.”

  “I suppose that's true.” I shifted slightly, my body becoming impatient for our lesson. Just the mention of being spanked made my clit pulse with want.

  “Do you understand everything better now?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think so.” I nodded.

  “Good. Do you have anymore questions?”

  “Um, am I under consideration right now?”

  “You will be after we've signed the first contract. At that point, you will need to do your best to follow my rules. When you get the time to read the contract, you'll learn the rest of my rules. The paper with the list of rules are the ones that will be most important to me while you're under consideration.”

  “Alright.”

  We sat in silence for a moment, with me looking at the list of rules on my lap and Damien staring at me awkwardly. Then he spoke again, changing the subject, “So, it appears that the only things you're opposed to are being shared, anything to do with your anus, having sex while on your period, and anything pain related. Is that correct?”

  “Mhm,” I replied, avoiding his eyes.

  “Why won't you have sex on your period?”

  “Because it's gross.”

  Damien huffed lightly, somewhere between amusement and annoyance. “That's the same reason you gave for not wanting anal sex.”

  “Well, that's because they're both gross.”

  “They're not gross. Menstruating is natural.”

  I scrunched my face up. “But it's messy, and I just don't want to do it when I'm on my period.”

  “One thing you should know about me, Cheyenne, is that I don't like being denied.”

  His words sent a shiver down my spine. He sounded so powerful, looked so dominant—so desirable. Damien's dark eyes burned down to my very core, lighting a fire there that swirled with desire for him.

  “I . . .” I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say—what he wanted me to say. Why had I even bothered to open my mouth? When he looked at me in that way, spoke to me like that, I always got tongue-tied and flustered.

  “We can work on all of this later,” he said finally. “I'm sure you're eager to get to your lesson this evening.”

  Yes. I nodded fervently. Oh so eager.

  “Read rule number thirteen,” he instructed.

  What? I looked down at the list, wondering what the rules had to do with anything until I found the one he had requested. My cheeks grew warm as I read it aloud, “I will always tell my Master before I am about to orgasm so that he may decide whether or not to allow it.”

  “This is the first rule I want you to commit to memory. Now, are you ready for your lesson?”

  I could only imagine how he planned to use that rule. Did he mean to deny my orgasm? Hopefully not. My body was already warmed up for him. It wouldn't take much to push me over the edge, the edge that I so willingly wanted to plummet down.

  With a deep breath, I said, “I'm ready.”

  Damien uncrossed his legs. “Tonight, we're going to take a shower together.”

  “A . . . shower?” That was totally unexpected. I supposed that shower sex was just as hot as anything else. Besides, I had never done it in a shower before.

  “Mhm.” He stood, which I took for a sign to follow him.

  Damien led me to the Master bathroom, where he leaned casually against the counter that stretched across the length of the room. His bathroom was every bit as big as my bedroom at my father's house. And it looked every bit as expensive and pristine as the rest of his house. White marble tile with flecks of gold in it led up to a giant basin tub. To the right was the long counter with his and her sinks, and to the left was a massive walk-in shower, large enough for at least six people to stand together comfortably. How can he not call this a mansion?

  “Undress,” Damien commanded.

  I felt strangely insecure under his gaze, though he had seen me naked many times before. Remember what comes after undressing, I told myself as I began to unbutton my blouse. My fingers worked clumsily, ever aware of Damien Reed's smoldering eyes upon me.

  “When you're finished, fold your clothing nearly and place them on the counter,” he instructed as I was sliding off my underwear.

  “Alright,” I replied, quickly doing as I was told.

  Damien furrowed his brows at my folded clothing. “Has no one ever taught you how to properly fold clothes before?”

  “I usually hang these up,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed.

  “I'll expect you to learn how to fold clothing properly. I'm sure you can find several videos on YouTube about it.”

  “Yes, Master,” I playfully mocked him.

  “It's Sir.” He didn't even smile.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes. Until you receive your formal collar, you will address me as Sir. That is what I prefer to be called. Calling me Master de
notes that we have reached a deeper relationship, which we have not yet.”

  The tension in the room was palpable, though whether it was sexual tension or something else, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that he was being very serious, and although I found it sexy, to a degree, it was kind of making me uncomfortable.

  “Now I want you to undress me,” he said, pushing himself away from the counter and taking a step forward so I had room to get around him.

  Undress him. Now that sounded like fun. I tried to hide my lecherous grin as I stepped up to him, inhaling the masculine scent of his cologne. Damien Reed was absolutely intoxicating, and just the feel of being in his personal space erased all of my uncertainty.

  I bit my bottom lip, gazing up at him. When our eyes met, fireworks went off inside my body. Passionate Damien was there, dominating me with his powerful eyes, consuming my body and soul. My heart began to pound in my chest as my hands went to grip the bottom of his white T-shirt. He lifted his arms and bowed his head so that I could take it off, leaving him shirtless and yummy.

  Mmm Damien Reed shirtless. He was the picture of gorgeous, with tattooed arms, pale skin, and a fit body. Tall, dark, and handsome. And totally mine. The thought made me absolutely giddy inside.

  I knelt to take off his shoes and socks, surprised that his feet didn't smell. It was a weird thing to think about, but I had never liked feet. They were strange looking, and kind of gross.

  Thankfully, I didn't have to linger on my knees too long before it was time to take off his jeans and get to the goods. Beneath them, his cock was flaccid, though I knew it wouldn't stay like that—hoped it wouldn't stay that way. I wanted it inside of me. Needed it inside of me.

  When Damien was fully undressed, he walked past me to turn on the shower. Water sprayed down from three metal plates in the ceiling. It was a neat addition to the traditional shower head on the wall. Next to that was a detachable shower head. Needless to say, Damien's shower didn't lack options when it came to getting wet.

  After he had adjusted the temperature to his liking, he motioned for me to step inside. I was thankful he preferred his showers hot. Despite the heat of the water, my nipples began to perk the moment beads of water pelted down on them. For a moment, I thought to conceal myself in embarrassment, but what did it matter. They would have gotten hard the second Damien put his hands on me anyway. And by that time, all thoughts of modesty would be out the window.

  Damien reached up and took a bottle of shampoo from the shower rack. “I want you to wash my hair,” he told me. “You wash it, rinse it, lather again, and leave it in for a minute while you scrub my body. When you're finished washing me, you'll rinse my hair again, then condition it. You'll leave the conditioner in, and while it's setting in, I'll bathe you.”

  I nodded, taking the bottle from him and squirting a generous portion of shampoo into my hand. Surprisingly, the brand was a common one. Then again, Damien Reed was all over the place with what he chose to spend his money on. He lived in a mansion but wore jeans and T-shirts most days, and they weren't even the designer kind. The man was truly unusual.

  I reached up and massaged the shampoo into his short dark hair. It was brown, but so close to black that you couldn't tell from a distance.

  Meticulously, I followed Damien's instructions, worrying the whole time that it wouldn't be good enough. He seemed to like to criticize everything I did wrong, but I supposed that was part of training me to be the perfect submissive, teaching me how to do things the way he wanted them done. It would certainly take some getting used to, and hopefully the payoff would be worth the initial annoyance with the process.

  Thankfully, he didn't say anything while I bathed him. He simply watched me, assessing me the entire time. As I handled his penis, the desire to pop it into my mouth became almost overwhelming. I held back though, not wanting to risk displeasing him. Could a man be displeased by a blow job? I didn't think so. Still, Damien Reed wasn't just any man. It had taken me forever to get him hard during my first lesson with him. He had ridiculous self-control. I shouldn't be surprised that a small bit of fondling didn't do the trick.

  When it was time for the conditioner to set in, Damien took control, shampooing my hair and washing me as I had him. Just the feel of his hands caressing my soapy skin made me want to moan. They were large and warm, and I felt somehow protected in his embrace.

  When he soaped up my sex, his fingers were gentle, rubbing back and forth between my folds to get me clean. My clit throbbed needily, but it was obvious he wasn't ready to give it the attention it wanted. Soon, I told myself. Soon, he'll be fucking me. Maybe he'll even press me up against the glass like he had in the cheer studio. How I missed the cheer studio, the excitement of being naked and exposed for all the world to see, the dominance in Damien's voice as he ordered me not to turn around, the rough way he had taken me against the glass. My pussy ached the entire day afterward. It had been a good kind of pain. The kind of pain that comes from being ridden hard and put away sopping.

  Instead of switching places with me, Damien grabbed the detachable shower head and rinsed off my back. The setting on it pulsed hard against my skin, giving me a massage as it went. I groaned at the pleasure of it. Never before had I felt so pampered. It was well worth waiting for my turn to be bathed.

  “Put your leg up on the bench,” Damien instructed, and I did as I was told.

  Damien changed the setting on the detachable shower head to a gentle flow to wash off my chest. Down the shower head went, between my breasts, over my stomach, and pausing at my mound. Instead of continuing its descent, the shower head moved away from me and out of view. I didn't think much of it until I heard a click behind me. Then Damien's arm was reaching around me, pulling me against him, while the shower head was pressed between my legs, the setting dialed all the way up to Oh-My-Fucking-God.

  My body tensed against him, my breath instantly becoming ragged as the hot water jetted across my sensitive clit. I wanted to close my legs—wanted to postpone the orgasm. It was coming too fast, racing through my body with dizzying speed.

  I grasped Damien's hand, practically clawing my nails into it. His breath was on my neck, his eyes watching my body struggle not to writhe from exquisite pleasure.

  As if my orgasm wasn't happening fast enough already, Damien pressed the shower head flush with my skin and began rubbing it against me in a circular motion. I barely had time to cry out, “I'm coming,” before the pummeling water sent me over the edge. There was no time for Damien to deny me. My body wouldn't allow it. All I could do was wait for my orgasm to play out and hope that he wasn't too upset.

  If he was disappointed though, it didn't show. The moment I had spoken the words, Damien's free hand began roaming. First, it pinched and tugged on one of my nipples, which sent a delicious aftershock to my cunt. Then it wandered down between my legs for proof of my words, his finger pressing the tiny nub to feel it contracting.

  He pulled the water away, returned the shower head to a gentler setting, and placed it back in its cradle. All the while, I stood as still as I could, panting and waiting for my next instruction. Damien wrapped his arms lovingly around me, giving me a kiss on the neck before saying I could rinse the conditioner from my hair and then do his.

  When I was finished rinsing his hair, I wrapped my arms around Damien's broad shoulders, pressing my head against his back and sighing contently. To my surprise, he grabbed my hand and lifted it up to his lips, kissing it gently. The tender moment lasted for but a second before he turned the water off and then opened the shower door to step outside and grab a towel.

  I sighed, wishing he would have allowed me to please him as he had me. Maybe it wasn't over yet though. Surely, he would want to have sex; I hoped.

  We toweled ourselves off, and Damien went into his bedroom to get a fresh pair of boxers. I felt a bit icky putting back on my old clothes, but I didn't have much of a choice.

  When we were both dressed, Damien told me to follow him to the living ro
om, so I could retrieve the contract before I left. I scowled at his backside, hoping for some hot sofa sex. The shower head felt great, but I required a different kind of head to soothe the need between my thighs.

  When Damien picked up the paperwork to hand it to me, his expression was all seriousness again. Any hint of love or affection had washed off in the shower, and he was back to being strictly business.

  “You failed again,” he commented plainly, causing my stomach to twist with discomfort.

  “I know,” I replied. “I didn't have much time to think though.”

  “I know. That was partially my fault.” He sighed, but didn't look too disappointed. “We're going to have to work on orgasm control with you. You go off faster than a teenage boy.”

  I laughed, “I can't help it. It's what you do to me.”

  He smirked. “I'm glad I please you so greatly.”

  “You do. More than any man ever has.” Almost as soon as I said it, I realized how stupid it sounded. After all, I had only been with one other man.

  “Shall we discuss your trial then?”

  I sighed internally. The uncertainty was there again, but then I thought about Damien's tender kiss in the shower and tried to put it aside.

  “Perhaps you'd like to think about it overnight,” he continued. “Usually, I set a trial of two weeks. But our situation is a bit different. You have school, and I can't expect you to come over every night without your studies suffering.”

  The idea of coming to see him every night wasn't unappealing. That would mean more sex for me. And more sex would definitely make me a happy camper. But I knew he was right. I could remember the time when my mother was in the hospital, how hard it had been to juggle all of my responsibilities.

  “You said the time I'm under consideration is basically just to see if I'm actually interested in being your submissive, right?” I asked.