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From: MarArch@ix.netcom.com (the poetic one)
Subject: Checkmate (2/4 - D/s, no sex)
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Checkmate, part 2
by DMGPoet

They sat on opposite sides of the booth against the window, their eyes
locked, planning their moves. He adopted a posture that was forward,
fixed and concentrated on her, his body leaning slightly forward, his
elbows planted on the table before him, fingertips interlaced before
his mouth. She countered by crossing her forearms, also resting them
on the table, challengingly. Between them, as if heaped in the center
of the formica, next to the ashtray and condiment dispensers, was a
gauntlet, ready to be taken up in acceptance of the contest.

He let a slow smile curl the corners of his lips, knowing that the
brightness of his gaze had just leaped several notches, boring into
her even deeper. But instead of seeing her lids flutter in
overwhelming, resolving into a blush and then the beginnings of the
melting, one corner of her mouth curled up slightly in a crooked grin,
telling him instantly that she knew the ploy and it would not work on
her... She was no blushing, vulnerable virgin, susceptable to such
tactics. He would have to try much harder if he was going to be the
one to triumph.

"You know" he said, quietly, amused, "I think you might be here under
false pretenses."

"Oh?" She was casual, seemingly only vaguely interesting. "What makes
you say that."

"Well, didn't you tell me that you were ...submissive?"

"Actually" she said, her eyes flashing for a moment, ".....no. I said
I sometimes bottom."

He nodded, sagely, being well aware of the difference between a bottom
and a submissive. He had played, sometimes quite intensely, with both
submissives and bottoms. And besides the fact that submissives tended
to exude a certain holistic sense of surrender in their play, bottoms
merely absorbed the torment that was inflicted upon their flesh. He
understood that, as a bottom, she could also be the most dominant
female on the face of the earth, who simply happened to enjoy the
physical experience of being the object of sensual attention on
certain occasions.

"And the rest of the time?" he inquired, his voice calm but coaxing.

"The rest of the time..." she paused, making him wait, teasing him for
a long moment, then, ".....I don't."

He leaned back with a chuckle, telling her through this motion that he
was not going to be drawn into a semantic contest with her. That if
they did engage in something it was going to be much more substantial
them mere word play.

"Would you like something to eat?" he inquired, knowing full well that
he would decline, prefering to sit, his gaze fixed on her while she
fumbled with the mouthfuls of the meal, feeling awkward, unable to
retort to his questions without having to choke down a bite of
something or other, by which time he would have moved on to some other
subject or inquiry, keeping her off-balance and, therefore, following
his lead.

"No, thank you" she replied "I've already eaten." And once again she
matched his smile... pawn takes pawn.

The silence fell between them once again for a long moment before he
spoke once more.

"So" he said "in all our little chats, you never did say just exactly
what it is you're looking for. What would make you happy in a.....
relationship."

"That would depend on who it was with" she replied, simply.

"Oh? You don't have any... standards? Any fantasies you want to have
fulfilled?"

It was her turn to laugh, quietly, tossing back her head and allowing
the sound to slip from her throat with ease and openness, before
returning her amused gaze to him once more.

"Why don't you tell me yours first" she said, leaning forward
slightly, inclining her head in that familiar "I am devastatingly
interested in anything you have to say" pose he had seen so many times
before and very seldom found himself being fooled by.

But inside his breath began to quicken as he realized that, yes, she
was indeed fun... someone witty, intelligent, with charm and grace...
in short, a true challenge. With a sudden motion he leaned toward her
as well, so that their faces were now a mere foot apart.

"Tell you what" he said, the edge of conspiracy in his tone "instead
of just trying to work each other up with a lot of teasing images...
why don't we actually talk."

He saw the flicker of disorientation in her face for just an
instant... ah, she hadn't been expecting that.... Knight takes pawn...

But then she quickly recovered, releasing another wide grin across her
face.

"Think you can handle it?" she said.

"I'll live" he retorted.

She held her posture for a long moment before suddenly leaning back
and fixing her gaze on him once again, now from a slightly safer
distance.

"How about this instead" she proposed, "I've met an awful lot of
people this way. I'll bet you have too. We decide to meet, check each
other out and see if we want to take it the next step. And frankly,
sometimes it can be really boring."

"Oh?" he ventured, genuinely surprised by such an admission. "Why
boring?"

"Well," she said, easily, "I can tell pretty much in the first couple
of minutes whether or not I want to rape somebody. I don't need a
whole song and dance about it."

The tiny gasp escaped him before he could stop it, and he had to
divert his attention inward, away from her, momentarily to difuse the
tingle that raced through him at the simplicity of her statement and
what it implied. He saw instantly that she knew she'd gotten to him
and he conceded that point to her. Queen takes Knight.

He chuckled softly then nodded, encouragingly. "Go on."

"Well" she continued "usually we just sit around making a lot of small
talk and feeling each other out but really, we both know pretty much
right away if it's going to go anywhere or not... so, rather than just
do all that again, why don't you and I do a little something different
this time."

"And that would be....?"

"Why don't we ask each other.... oh.... three questions... about
anything at all... and then answer them absolutely honestly. Wouldn't
that be a nice change of pace?"

He faught back the urge to explode in delighted noise of laughter, and
instead quickly straighted himself, clasping his fingers on the table,
as if about to set on some important, weighty business.

"I think that would be delightful" he said, his expression as amused
as his voice. "How would you like to start."

"Why don't you ask me first, since it was my idea."

He fixed his gaze on her once more, taking a long, silent moment to
drink her in again. Yes, she really is fun... and attractive... and
quite a challenge. He could feel the tickling throb at the crotch of
his jeans and mentally added 'enticing' to the list of other assets he
had noticed.

"All right. First question...." He paused, allowing the drama to build
for a moment before continuing.

"What does 'submission' mean to you... really..."

She absorbed the question and slowly nodded, impressed that he would
choose to use it on something besides the typical, self-centered 'do
you want to play/fuck with me right now' kind of frivolities. This,
she realized, deserved a genuinely well considered answer...

"Well... submission is when someone gives themselves completely to
someone else."

"How completely".

She fixed him with a probing look.

"Completely means.... completely" she said evenly.

"No restrictions? Limits?"

He almost thought he saw her begin to roll her eyes, disdainfully, but
perhaps it was a trick of the light.

"Oh, well, of course, you don't want to damage them. After all, when
someone is giving your their body, mind and soul, you should take care
of it. I mean, you don't want to be like the child who unwraps his
toys on Christmas morning and then smashes them.... or do you..."

She leaned forward and stared at him, deep and focused.

"That's my first question to you. How do you feel about pain."

He allowed a smile to play out along his lips before leaning back,
adopting his sage posture.

"That all depends" he said, almost coy.

"On...?" a hint of strained patience in her tone.

"On whether or not it is felt as pain. In the right circumstances pain
is just.... another very intense sensation... and it can be quite
pleasurable."

"And have you ever felt such pleasurable sensations? Or do you just
inflict them."

He grinned wickedly at her.

"That's a different question" he said, but then chuckled softly. "Yes,
I've felt them. I began on the recieving end of things..."

"Nooooo" she said, playfully mocking "You?" She laughed, leaning back
and tossing her gaze upwards momentarily, before fixing on him once
more.

"Oh yes" he said, casually. "I was submissive long before I ever began
exploring my Dominant side."

"I see" she replied, slowly, her eyes narrowing now, her mind turning
over with wicked images.

"All right, my turn again" he said, noticing her growing reverie and
wanting to stop her thinking in that way. He leaned forward, planting
his elbows on the table. "Who" he said, measuring out his words as if
they had some great import "has the real power... the Dominant... or
the submissive."

She gazed at him a long moment, as if trying to read some page in his
mind through shadows. When she spoke, her voice was low, soothing,
almost an invitation.

"At first, the submissive. He can use his safeword to stop anything...
or his safe sign, if I happen to have him nicely gagged. But slowly,
over time, he surrenders to me little pieces of his soul... little
bits of his trust... his devotion... his love... he learns to hunger
for the things I can do to him... the feeling I can give him... the
heat he gives to me... and I take him, slowly, step by step, a piece
at a time... until I'm at the center of his soul, and I've swallowed
up his will. Then I own him, body, mind and spirit. He will refuse me
nothing... you'll let me do anything I want to you. Rape you, torment
you... own you. Then you'll know absolute peace and total love."

The silence fell between them once more and he felt himself flushing,
the blood filling his cheeks, prickling his neck and strangling his
breathing in small, shallow gasps.

Damnit, he cursed to himself, that was a mistake. You should never
have told her. You handed her that one, and stepped right into it.

He made a quick mental note to be on guard for such tactical moves on
her part in the future and allowed a low chuckle to boil from his
throat.

"Bravo" he said, quietly. "Now... your turn."

"Who" she said "makes the better submissive. Males or females."

He averted his eyes from hers as he considered this for a long moment,
then turned back to her.

"Well... it might be pride of sex, but.... males."

"Why" she said, quickly.

He fixed her with a level gaze, probing deeply into her eyes.

"Because women are so much crueler than men. And it takes a better
submissive to endure that sort of... intensity."

He leaned forward, now drilling her deeply with his gaze, his voice
low and even.

"A man may have his submissive kneel before him, her legs spread wide,
body open and vulnerable... but he will not have her kiss his boot, or
endure his wrath... or keep her aching and hungry hour after hour.
Women, when they strike, strike hard. They like to see a man jump and
whimper. They like to see him in agony for their sake. They like to
conquor him... to absorb his torment straight into their sex and use
it to lubricate their lust. And when a woman rapes a man... she truly
rapes him... even if he offers himself for that impaling. And when she
drives deep into him, she stabs into his soul. And he bleeds tears for
her sake. A woman can be completely devoted to her Master... but only
a man can truly be owned."

The silence was absolute, as if the world had stopped, leaving only
the two of them, fixed deep in each other. And now it was her turn to
struggle with her breathing... her turn to flush a crimson in her
cheeks... her turn to throb and begin to ache.

Slowly he smiled and leaned back, satisfied.

"Of course" he said, mildly "that's just my opinion."

He could see her shake herself out of the grip of the images that had
taken possession of her mind and for a moment her eyes flashed, almost
annoyed, before she too leaned back to study him.

"Now" he said, all business once more, "my turn. How much independence
do you think a submissive should have?"

"Independence?" she said, somewhat suprised, then laughed softly. "As
much as is practical, I suppose. I want him to be self-sufficient when
dealing with the world, of course. I don't like dishrags. But when he
is with me, or under my power.... then he is mine... to do with as I
will, when I will... to serve me and please me and by serving me....
to make me love him."

"Depend on him?" he asked, mildly.

"Yes" she said, simply.

"Fair enough. And your final question?"

She leaned forward once more, slowly, deliberately, a no-nonsense air
in her tone and posture.

"How" she said evenly "would you feel... if I were to share you."

She smiled and his own upturned lips answered calmly.

"Well" he said, a hint of mock resignation in his voice "IF I were to
be in that position, and IF such a thing were to be pleasing to you...
then, as a devoted slave.... I would want to be the vessel of your
pleasure... now wouldn't I."

"Yes" she said, her voice a harsh whisper "you would."

They sat, staring into each other deeply, each beginning to get lost
in the other, feeling the flush of aroused blood coursing through
them. He wondered if she could sense the hardness in his cock as it
ached below the surface of the table. She wondered if he could smell
her arousal, even as her sex began to weep past those aching, swollen
lips.

"You know, don't you" he said quietly, his voice as open and honest as
ever it had been "one of us is going to be totally owned, body and
soul, by the other. You were aware of that."

She smiled, her eyes narrowing slightly, looking across at him with
shadowed, mysterious yet blazing concentration, allowing the wav of
tingling pleasure to ripple through her from her now moist sex.

"Figured that out, finally, did you?" she said, a hint of amusement in
her tone. Her hand slid easily across the table and lightly patted the
back of his, almost in mock comfort.

"Good boy" she purred....

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