I wasn’t under 18, and I certainly wasn’t offended by alternative sexualities, but my finger was positively shaking over the “Enter” button, as if I expected a flashing light to go off at the local police station the moment I pressed it.
‘Pervert alert,’ the desk sergeant would say laconically. ‘At 11B South Parade Gardens.’
‘Oh really?’ His colleague would look up, eyebrows raised. ‘But she’s a schoolteacher, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah. St Sebastian’s.’
‘Well, they’re all a bunch of oddballs up there. All the same, the Evening News’ll be interested. It’ll make the front page.’
‘Yeah, better call the news desk. I’ll get over to her flat and see about confiscating her computer.’
‘Right you are.’
Argh!
I retracted the finger, my heart beating fast.
Counselling myself to stop being so silly, I replaced it. There was no police link to this website for consenting adults to meet up with other consenting adults who shared their particular kink. This was not a school laptop, watched over by Techno Mo, the head of Information Technology. It was my personal laptop, on which I was absolutely entitled to conduct my own personal business. Any personal business, barring criminal acts.
No policemen were going to roll up at the door wielding handcuffs. Though actually …
But I didn’t have time for cop fantasies.
Was I going to do this, or not?
I took a deep breath and stabbed at the button. I was in. The world seemed to look the same. What next?
I cruised through a few user profiles, occasionally stretching my eyes or exclaiming, ‘Wow!’ at some of the photographs illustrating them. I clicked quickly past anything involving intimate piercings or close-ups of cocks or, ew, was that an enema bag? I lingered over the pretty pictures of girls in corsets, or men with whips, or pleasingly-striped female bottoms. This was what I was here for. People like me.
At the top of the screen, the invitation to create a profile and become a member kept luring my eye toward it, like Jessica Rabbit’s beckoning finger. It all looked more and more exciting, the more I read and discovered. The members made cyber-friends with each other and sent messages if they thought they might have enough in common to try meeting up. I looked for members in the local area and found an excitingly long list of them. I could actually do this. Could I?
Stuart’s words revolved around my head: ‘Go out there and get spanked.’ That was an order, wasn’t it? If I thought of this as obeying his order, it would be easier. I imagined Stuart as a benign long-distance dictator, watching me through some kind of Skype arrangement from his warship.
‘Join the site,’ he urged. ‘Get to know a few fellow deviants. You’re bound to run across one you click with. Find him and, when you do, send me a letter with all the details.’
‘OK.’ I clicked on “Sign up”, waited for the confirmation email, then set to work creating my profile.
So. Username. What could I have? Not one of those blatant ones like Cumsucker69 or Slut4U. I wanted something demure that hinted at the submissive longings behind it. What famous submissives were there? I could only think of O from The Story of O– great book, but not such an inspiring name. It took me another hour to list all the possibilities until eventually, frustrated by the unwanted procrastination, I called myself AtYourService and had done with it.
Next I had to tick a vast number of boxes detailing my interests, vanilla and non-vanilla. I only ticked “music” on the vanilla, not having time for fripperies, then moved on to the interesting part. It was like those old adverts for dating agencies, only instead of “Pets” you could tick “Caning”, instead of “Pubs and Clubs” you had “Multiple Partners”.
Having tick-box identified myself as a corporal punishment fetishist with interests in anal sex, humiliation, and bondage, I moved on to my personal statement.
‘I am new to all this,’ I started, wishing I had a pencil to suck the nub of, ‘so I need to be taught a great deal. Are you a strict but caring teacher?’ Fuck, it sounded like something from the Times Educational Supplement. Should I sex it up a bit? ‘If you can help this curious girl learn the pleasures of submission, please feel free to message me. Imagination and GSOH essential, intelligence and cultural knowledge preferred, looks less relevant than natural authority. Thanks for reading.’
Ugh, “thanks for reading”. I sounded so … wholesome. But who was to say that would turn some of these gentlemen off? I wasn’t looking for the kind of man who wanted to surround himself with Cumsucker69s. I was looking for the kind of man who wanted me. A man like … Stuart.
A picture? No. No way. I wasn’t going there.
I uploaded the profile to MasterMe.com and then had to close my browser, aghast and giggling at the huge step I had taken.
In my bed, I imagined my first meeting with a shadowy dominant man. How would it happen? Would he take me to a dungeon club? Would I have to parade past a crowd of people, led by a chain attached to a collar, wearing only a PVC basque with stockings and suspenders that exposed my tits, arse and pussy? Would they slap at my bum as I passed, commenting on my appearance, expressing their hopes that they might get a turn later? Would they watch as the shadowy master fastened me into a pillory and proceeded to whip my displayed backside until it was red and swollen? Would the crowd then surge up and feel the heat, cupping my buttocks in multiple hands, moving their fingers down to wet them in my cunt, making me come in public, over and over again, oh, oh, oh …
No. It probably wouldn’t happen like that. But the fantasy was strong and suddenly I felt more optimistic than I had done in months.
I still felt optimistic even after a long day of making sure none of the instruments managed to walk out of the music room by themselves between classes. During playground duty I’d had to keep the Buckland Boyz and the Somerstown Crew on separate sides of the basketball court as hostilities erupted over somebody disrespecting somebody else’s lunchbox. And my Year Eleven exam group seemed to have forgotten what a treble clef was over the course of the summer holidays.
But apart from that, it was all good.