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beach blanket to sit on.

We walked quite a distance, holding hands and talking. Admittedly, I was kind of fascinated. He spoke like an adult. Not even similar to the boys I had dated prior. Where they had surfing dreams and avoided responsibility, Zayn had goals and ambition. It was beyond refreshing and, the truth is, I was becoming attracted to him.

Yes, that was my fault. I know. Don't look at me like that! Yes, I should have run screaming. I know that now, but I bet you would have done the same thing, had you been in my shoes.

The wind whipped up and I was freezing. He pulled me close, wrapped us in the blanket, and we made our way back. He asked me to sit with him in his Land Rover and talk for a while longer. I agreed. Okay, I admit it. That was my fault too, but I'm only human, and I wasn't ready to say good night.

The moon was full, affording us some light, and he put the heat on. I thought he was being terribly considerate. I'm so used to boys offering the bare minimum, that I actually found him intoxicating. Tell me you would have asked him to take you home. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Instead, he asked if I would join him at his house. It was a nice alternative to my cracker box apartment, so I did. Yes, it was a lapse in judgment, but it felt harmless, at first.

His house was luxurious. I dug my toes into the thick carpet while he poured drinks, offering, "Go ahead and put your feet up. Get comfortable."

I curled up in a corner of his fluffy sectional couch, and he took a seat next to me, saying, "You're very beautiful, Samantha. How is it that you were available on such short notice?"

I thought for a long minute wondering how much to reveal. Should I actually confess, the last time I got fucked over and stabbed in the back, was the actual last time? Should I tell him, bare minimum boys can go fish the bottom of the barrel? Do I confess this town is full of boys in men's clothing, and I need an actual, grown up, adult man? I opted for the answer which required the least explanation, "I swore off men."

"You did," he asked, sounding intrigued.

"I did," I affirmed, offering nothing further.

"What is your excuse, Zayn?"

"I had a meeting that ran late, Samantha, and I couldn't get you off my mind. I decided to roll the dice, so I called you."

"I see," I said, feeling as though I may faint. "It seems circumstances conspired to bring us together tonight."

"Precisely," he breathed, and kissed me slowly, suckling my lower lip, and then deepened the kiss, while holding both of my hands.

He looked deep into my eyes, asking, "Why did you swear off men, Samantha? You don't strike me as someone who's attracted to women."

"No," I confided, "I don't have an attraction to anyone, and that was the point. I desire no one," I confessed.

He pulled me into his arms, holding me gently, and said, "Yet here you are with me."

I definitely should have run screaming, but his point was everything. How in hell was I going to deny that?

He kissed me senseless taking liberties which would paint me a liar, if I had said I wasn't attracted to him. Yes, I should've run away but something, all the way down deep in my soul, made me stay. Admittedly, there was no logic involved, and barely a thought process. Everything was mental, emotional, and visceral.

He held me to him, kissing me intensely, with his hand on the back of my head, not letting me deny my own longing, not allowing me to turn away, and I melted into him. He stood swiftly and carried me into a dark room.

I know it was reckless and ill advised, but I was weak where his decisiveness was strong. It was as if he knew that I desperately needed his strength.

He set me back on my feet and pushed my back to the wall. It was cool against my heated skin, and I shivered as he pressed himself to me, trapping me in his embrace.

He kissed me hotly, spreading my arms out wide, and I didn't know what to expect, until I felt the steel handcuffs click shut around my wrists.

I panicked and tried to pull away, but he laid against me with all of his weight, issuing, "Shhh, it's okay. I won't hurt you. Calm down, Samantha."

We all know that, at this point, I was far beyond trusting any man, but it was too late now. I decided to reason with him.

"I don't like this, Zayn. Release me."

He smiled derisively and then his lips claimed my own. He reached for buttons and zippers, letting my dress slip to the floor, and he stood back admiring my naked body while I flailed, sputtering, "I mean it. Release me now."

Zayn slid his hands down my throat, over my shoulders, and he squeezed my breasts gently, whispering, "So fucking beautiful. You're truly a vision."

I kicked violently, trying to nail him right in the safe deposit box, but he was too close for me to do any damage.

His hand slid down my abdomen, and my thighs exploded. I was overwrought, and fighting him wildly. He knelt between my thighs, breathing hotly against my exposed pussy, and he slid his hands down my thighs, and over my calves, all the way down to my ankles, and then snapped restraints around me there. Zayn stood and discarded his clothing.

I went limp, exhausted from struggling fruitlessly, and he took me at my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. He slid his fingers over my clitoris, demanding, "Tell me you don't want this, and I will release you."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He ravaged me, with his hands on me feeling everywhere, kneading, seeking and drawing me out, and I responded brazenly, unable to fight what my body demanded.

He suckled my neck, leaving dark bruises there, and whispering, "I will brand you with my lips, giving you fulfillment you never knew existed, until you cannot crave another man."

Then he knelt, and slid his fingertips up my thighs, and dragged one finger through my soaking wet slit, saying, "I knew you wanted this."

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut, denying the truth, even as my body showed him proof.

He pressed his lips to my cunt lips, and kissed me, breathing heavily, he drove one finger into me, and I cried out, "Zayn!"

"Yes," he hissed, lingering between my legs, "tell me what you desire." He drove his finger into me, and slammed his fist into my sex, working me rhythmically, and driving me straight into the teeth of white-hot frenzy.

Again he stood, and forced my lips open, wrapping his tongue around my own, and then cupped my buttocks and drove his rock-hard cock into my depths, and I was delirious, begging him, "Please release me. I want to hold you."

"Not yet, my lady. Not until I teach you some things about yourself."

"Please, Zayn."

"Hold on, my anxious slave."

He drove himself into me, hard and fast, and I tried again. "Please, please, I need you."

He whispered, "Shhh, Samantha. Trust me," and he rested my head on his shoulder, stroking my hair. For a long time, he let me rest and recover.

Desire coursed through my veins, and singed my soul, but I was too weak to continue.

Finally, he released me, carried me to an enormous bed, and gently laid me down. He laid on top of me, kissing me gently, and I wrapped my legs around his torso, as he pushed my arms above my head. I was so lost in him, that I scarcely noticed what he was about, until he tightened restraints around my wrists.

"Zayn, no."

"You still have some things to learn, little one."

"But I don't need this to learn," I insisted.

"And that shows me how little you know about yourself, sweet slave."

With some strength renewed, I sputtered some more, but he promptly ignored me, whispering, "Shhh. Hush now, or I'll get the gag."

I shut up immediately, and he secured my ankles to the bed posts. Zayn stretched out and tied a scarf around my eyes.

I hated it. I am a woman who uses every one of her senses to stay one step ahead at all times. I am control personified.

I fought the restraints, pleading, "Don't do this to me, Zayn. Please, release me."

Lightly, he stroked the curve of my waist with his fingertips, whispering, "Give in to me. Trust me."

"I can't! Zayn, please!"

"Not yet, Samantha. Relax now. Trust me."

"Zayn, I suck at trusting and I demand that you release me!"

"That's not how you speak to your master, little one."

"You're not my master. Let me go!"

"I don't think that's what you really want."

He crawled atop me on all fours, and I silently cursed the blindfold, that prevented me from guessing his next move.

Zayn dragged his full, firm length through my soaking wet slit, and I unwittingly bucked beneath him. He whispered, "I knew you wanted more."

I stayed silent, trying to predict what he would do, and he pushed his palms up my abdomen to squeeze my aching breasts, and then feasted on them. He kissed me down my belly, and I whimpered with need devouring me, and he slid the side of his palm in my slit.

My breath grew ragged and I lifted my hips, aching for him to fill me, but he tormented me, whispering, "That's my girl, such a beautiful, needy cunt."

I collapsed, dissolving into tears, and he wrapped me into his embrace, just holding me and letting me sob.

"Shhh, I know what you want. Trust me. I'll give you what you need. Surrender, sweet slave."

And I finally did. I stopped trying to guess his next move, stopped fighting him, mentally and physically, and I waved the white flag, laying down the weapons in my arsenal.

And he devoured my lips, with his hands defining me, and then thrust into me so hard and so deeply, it made me scream. Zayn grabbed my ass cheeks, and forced my hips up to meet his thrusts, with his balls slapping me hard.

I crested a precipice and fell into a firestorm, trusting him to rescue me. I incinerated my former self, and released the woman who was filled with frustration, bitterness, and rage, letting go of everything I had known previously, allowing myself to be reborn in his arms.

As my cunt throbbed, clinging to his thick girth, I knew that he would help me to figure out this new identity, and I trusted him to give me what I needed.

In the end, I stood before an enormous chasm, watching a flood carry my baggage away, while he kept me safe in his arms, and when I tried to get dressed and leave, he issued the one word which irrevocably changed the course of my life, "Stay."

I snuggled into his arms and rested my head on his chest, whispering, "Yes, Master."

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