Seduced by the Alphas

I had always had this dark and nameless desire within, right from my first cognizant memories. They grew with knowledge and time. I cannot say why this was, but I desired to be owned in completeness by a dominant man. Of course, these desires were a closely guarded secret. A thing for alone time fantasies, or the occasional risque drawing hastily scribbled in the confines of my school workbook. Not something to be seen or spoken of. However, they were always in the background driving me toward my eventual fate.

I did share my secret with one though in my early childhood. My best friend Anne, was an odd girl, abnormally short, even shorter than I was. She was plain of feature, with thick glasses, chubby features, and mousy curly brown hair, and her rather eccentric parents were English and drove around in Land-rovers kind of like the Queen of England.

I can remember she had this delightful, tiny stone cottage called South Cottage in her backyard. Surrounded by an idyllic English garden full of the most beautiful flowers. I was envious, I must confess.

This delightful play space was a complete freestanding replica of her parent’s own cottage, the purpose it had been built to serve so many decades before I still do not know, a servant’s quarters perhaps, and I have never seen another like it. Anne’s parents had decorated it and turned it into a playhouse. It was full of toys, games and puzzles. Best of all it had a ledge running all the way about its upper walls, and on this sat a Noah’s Ark complete with every kind of Breyer toy animal, walking into it two by two. She gave me a couple of those animals, and I still have them to this day. But I digress.

I shared these odd desires to be conquered that I had buried inside with Anne, but not in the way I actually carried them. I spoke of them to her from the dominant side of the equation, and it fired something in her. She reciprocated, and we found we would spend hours in South Cottage, or at the school under the shade of the large pines talking about dominance and willing slave boys. That though wasn’t really what I wanted, but it filled the void for me in my formative years.

I am sure as Anne entered adulthood she became that dominant we discussed. I can’t imagine her being any other way. It was for the most part all we spoke of. Our entire friendship was based on this obsession. We lost contact though after I left the area and went to high school. Once more I had to sequester my feelings.

One so misunderstood often lived a lonely life. I would watch movies, make sketches, and read endless books, my young fertile mind firmly set in the scenario of being the willing slave girl. Conquered, taken, shackled, loved. I crushed too easily on the handsome bad boys. I imagined sitting before fearsome figures of history like Genghis Khan, or Julius Caesar. Perhaps being abducted by pirates and enslaved on the high seas? I loved Planet of the Apes and any moves that featured slaves.

Then one day I happened on a tattered Gor novel in a secondhand sale. ‘Slave Girl of Gor’ the title proclaimed, and I felt like I had struck rare treasure. I took it home and it felt like the best fifty cents I had ever invested, as I avariciously digested its contents. It was fuel for the unquenched fire that was rapidly rising in me. I searched for more in every secondhand book place I could visit. My parents fortunately didn’t vet everything I did and looked at, and I amassed quite the library, reading them over and over in their dog-eared perfection.

As I waited, I fumblingly practiced the positions that a kajira must know by heart during my alone time. It became a discipline like yoga.

By the time I came of age, I still had elected to decline every opportunity for budding romance wherever it presented. None of my age appealed to me. I guess some found me standoffish or odd, but I was saving myself for him.

Where was he, who was he, I really didn’t know? I lived my mundane life and looked for him in my every waking moment. Wondering if he ever came along would I be ready, could I really be what my deep dark desires wished me to be? Could I live darkly and fully, surrender myself to a greater power? Putty for him in my servitude, doing whatever he wished day in and out without complaint? The question remained unanswered.

Until the day he wandered into my life, I was about to find out what it would be, I the lamb, to dine with the lion.