Chapter 1

My name is Robin Perkins and I have to tell you a story that happened to me that completely changed my life.

You see I grew up in a normal middle-class family. My father was a banker and my mom stayed home and took care of us kids and the house. We had the “ideal” life – a nice three bedroom/two bath home, two cars, we even had the white picket fence! You couldn’t ask for a more average American family!

The problem is that I didn’t fit into that mold very well. I was the youngest of three kids – I had two older brothers and being the only daughter gave me a lot of advantages. I was the apple of my Daddy’s eye – being the youngest and a girl gave me a “by” on a lot of the more dirty and unpleasant chores. Plus when us kids got into trouble, all I had to do was bat my pretty green eyes and I got out of it!

Yeah, you could say I was spoiled, but this lack of responsibility had it’s bad side as well. Since I could get away with anything, I tended to push that ... just to see where the boundaries were I suppose.

One area in particular that I pushed a bit too far at times was with boys. Being so free on the leash, so to speak, made it hard for me to find a boy that would put up with my bratty side. I had lots of relationships over the years, but none of them seemed to work out. I seemed to be the town bum-magnet ... the guys I was attracted to either had no job or they were stoners or drinkers or they had several failed relationships in their past.

Oh, the beginning of these relationships was great, I loved the idea of belonging to someone, the sex was fantastic and each of them seemed to be perfect. But soon these guys showed their true colors and it never seemed to last very long.

That is until I met David.

David was amazing. He was totally different than all the other guys I had met. He was different because he didn’t chase me, he made me chase him! We met through a mutual friend at a barbeque one summer. I saw him sitting by himself by the tree in their yard. Everyone else was talking and laughing and having a great time but David seemed to not be interested in the chatter.

I went over to him and introduced myself and he told me that it was all just a bit too chatty for his taste. He was more of a small group or loner kind of guy. So I asked to sit with him to talk some more. He kind of shrugged and said, “If you want to.”

Well, that kind of coolness and disinterest sparked something in me, I wasn’t used to being dismissed like that! I was the center of attention and this man wasn’t showing me the proper recognition!

So I began working on him and I guess it worked because after what would turn out to be a rather exhaustive effort, he finally agreed to start dating me regularly. I should clarify that by saying we went out a few times just casually – out to dinner, to a movie, or something simple like that.

But I kept working on him until one day when we were out for dinner. We had a nice time and he drove me home as usual. He walked me to the door and I asked him if he wanted to come in. Now I have asked him this several times and each time he made up some reason why he couldn’t. And I had every reason to think he would turn me down again. But surprisingly he didn’t this time.

“Sure I guess,” he said when I asked him in. His reply shocked me and it took me a moment to realize he has said yes. We went inside and I told him to make himself comfortable and brought us both a beer.

I sat down next to him on the sofa and I started making polite conversation. Now that I had finally worn him down to the point of coming inside my home, I wanted to see how much more I could coax from him.

I had no idea.

I was busy chattering away like a pissed off squirrel when he turned to me. “Where is your bedroom?” he asked.

I stopped talking looking at him puzzled. I was talking about my new job, how I liked it, and how I was saving up to buy a car and he comes out of the blue asking me where my bedroom was!

“I-it’s down the hallway,” I said pointing down the hall to the right.

“Let’s go,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a statement. It was a command. He said, Let’s go.” and he expected me to take him to my bedroom.

I was so stunned by his sudden and unexpected words that I must have gone into “autopilot”. I didn’t say anything, I just got up and took him to my bedroom. When we got there he shut the bedroom door and sat down on the edge of my bed.

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded, as he sat there ready to watch me strip.

“But...,” I started to protest his commanding me.

“Listen, Robin, you have been after me since the barbeque – you know it and I know it. Now I am here in your bedroom with you. Do you want to do this or not? Because if you don’t I can just get up and leave.

But if I do, that’s it. I don’t play games, young lady. I am here and ready to fuck – are you?” he said. His tone and dominating presence overwhelmed me. I had never been talked to like that in my life. And I liked it – a lot!

That night he took control of me and before the sun came up the next morning, he owned me. Over the next few weeks, we saw each other several times and he spent a few nights with me. I learned that he was a Dominant – I thought he was a god myself and as I was to find out later he thought so too.

But he taught me a lot about the world of domination and submission. He became my Master and I was his willing obedient submissive, willing to do anything and everything he ordered me to do. I adored him.

Sex with David was amazing, the best I’d ever had. I was so happy, everything was going well. I was living the life I always wanted, but never knew existed. I had a hot boyfriend, he took me out to parties and showed me off like I was the Crown Jewels all the time, sex day and night, and he was a good Master – strong and dominant, creative but not cruel. He knew just how far to push me and rewarded me well when I pleased him, which I really tried to do as much as possible.

We lived together as Master and sub for almost a year before it happened. I did something that did not please my Master at all. I was 22 and he was 30 at the time and we were having the time of our life. I loved my Master and my new life so much.

But I had to go and get pregnant. I was on the pill and I thought I was being careful about taking it. But the party life we were living didn’t lend itself to consistency I guess and I missed a few days, obviously. David was my Master and when he wanted sex, which could be anytime day or night but was guaranteed to be at least once a day, he got it. I would never dare refuse him and even if I did, he would probably just have taken me anyway.

David had told me on more than one occasion how he felt about children. He didn’t want to have any right now because he said: “we were in a good place and didn’t want anyone or anything to mess it up.” Actually, he didn’t want any kids because he wanted 100% of my time and attention. I was his submissive 24/7/365, and he didn’t want to share me with anyone.

I was terrified to tell him, I thought he might beat the shit out of me. Although he had never hurt me in anger or beaten me before, I had been in those kinds of relationships before. And I certainly didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know yet what he was capable of if I was to ever make him really mad.

Our sex was always rough and aggressive and while I loved that about him, I didn’t know if that roughness was just for play or if he was really an angry violent man. So I didn’t tell him, I needed to stall for some time to try so I could figure out what to do. So I continued to put on my subbie face and when we attended the many parties we went to, I just pretended to drink.

My drink of choice was usually screwdrivers, so I would say that’s what I had, but actually, it was just orange juice. I sometimes changed it up and ordered a “rum and coke” but held back the rum. Anything to put on the airs that I was the same party girl/submissive I always was.

I got away with my charade for about 3 months, but I began to show my “baby bump” and David began giving me a hard time for putting on weight. He was starting to get suspicious about my behavior as well – morning sickness had kicked in and while I could blame it on drinking sometimes, I would get sick on mornings when we hadn’t partied as well.

One night he confronted me. I guess he worked it out that I hadn’t had a period in a while. I broke down in tears and confessed, telling him how much I loved him and that I wanted his baby. But tears never worked with him during Dom/sub sessions so why I thought they would now, I don’t know.

He didn’t hit me, but he was very angry at me. I tried to explain that it was an accident and I didn’t mean to get knocked up. But he wouldn’t hear my “pathetic excuses” (as he called them). He stormed out of the house and didn’t come back that night at all. I cried until I didn’t have any tears left and the next morning he called me up.

“Be at the pavilion at the park by the house in twenty minutes,” he said, then the phone went dead. I quickly got dressed and got down to the park pavilion in ten minutes. Those other ten minutes waiting for him to arrive were agonizing.

Finally, right at the twenty minute mark, he showed up. My heart leaped when I saw him and I wanted to run into his arms. But he had a serious no-nonsense look on him and I knew that would have been a mistake.

We talked for a bit and I told him again how much I loved him and didn’t want to lose him. But he gave me a choice – either I get rid of “it” or move out. I was too far along to even consider an abortion and even if I wasn’t, I really wanted my baby. So I gathered up my shattered heart, broken dreams, and very few possessions, and I left him.

I moved that week to a neighboring town – I stayed in the same general area because I wanted my son to have grandparents – and spent the next five years working, scraping by as best I could as a single mom and devoted all my time and energy to my son. I named him David because, despite all that happened between us, I still loved his father.

I didn’t date for the first five years while David was a baby and would spend my nights writing in my journal while my son slept. I discovered that writing in my journal, putting down in words all my memories of the times I had with James was in a strange way cathartic, helping me to heal and get out all the feelings, thoughts, emotions, and dreams that I had inside me.

So I wrote and told my journal all about life with David. I described in minute detail all the parties, the sex, every nasty element of the things he would do to me and how it made me feel. I missed him a lot, but each time I looked at my beautiful son, I knew I had made the right decision.

The two things I missed most about my relationship with David was belonging to someone and the sex we had. I very much missed the feeling I had when I was with David, the feeling of belonging to him, of being owned by him. It gave me a security and a comfort that nothing else ever had.

Sure I was part of my family, but that was just it – I was part of the family. With David, I WAS his family. I was everything to him and him to me. He didn’t have a family – at least any that I knew of – so he focused on me. It was nice to be that connected to someone.

I missed the sex too – the amazing, heart-stopping, fuck-me-till-I-can’t-walk-away sex that we always had. He never failed to leave me a panting, cum-leaking mess, unable most times to speak and always unable to even walk to the bathroom to clean up.

I had brought my vibrator and a few of my sex toys with me when I had left him, so, for now, I had my toys and my memories of my sexual adventures with him. Which helped a lot on those many nights when I would be especially lonely and ended up masturbating while my son slept.

David was kind enough to have the rest of my toys and things sent to my place about a month after I moved. The note said he didn’t want them anymore because he couldn’t look at them and remember us. I guess I understood his logic, although at the time it was like salt in an open wound.

Once my boy was almost 5, I decided to move to a nicer place in a better part of town so that he could go to a good school that was closer to where we lived. I had gotten promoted at work and was making more money so it was time to move up. I started dating again too ... or at least trying to. But it seemed like my dating skills hadn’t improved any with age. I still was a bum-magnet, drawing every loser and deadbeat within 100 miles!

Some of these ill-fated relationships lasted a few months before things hit the skids and some of them didn’t last more than a date or two. But eventually they all showed their true colors and I finally realized the guy wasn’t what I needed in my life.

I guess what I really wanted was a man like David, but that would accept a woman that already had a son. Which was a pretty tall order, and I didn’t hold out much hope of filling it.

It didn’t help that I lived in this small Arkansas town, either. Conway, Arkansas isn’t exactly known as a dating mecca. I tried dating a few times, but when the conversation got around to what we liked in the bedroom and I told them my likes, they all seemed to be freaked out by it and that was the end of that.

There were times when I would go a year, sometimes longer, between relationships. I may have a date or two between relationships (I considered anything more than a handful of dates a relationship in my book!), but nothing more. Then I would swear off men for a while and just concentrate on my son and my job.

But it never seemed to take very long before the next hopeless case stumbled into my life. And they always seemed to be just what I was looking for, my Mr. Right, and I would try one more time to find love and happiness.

Besides the fact I was sorely missing a sexual partner in my life, one that could be the man and Master that I needed, I was also hoping to one day meet someone that could be a good father for my son David.

He was a really great kid. He always seemed really happy and was never any problem, but I just felt that maybe he needed a father figure. He had asked me about his father a few times over the years and I had just told him that I loved his dad, but it had just not worked out. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his father didn’t want him, at least not when he was young, maybe later when he was older and could understand things better.

The years slipped slowly by as time does. My son grew like a weed and my life wrapped around him. I threw myself into my work and raising David. My sex life dwindled to less than a trickle, and I wasn’t getting any younger. I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding a suitable partner and seriously considered marrying my vibrator since it was the only one who understood me!

It wasn’t that I was unhappy. I had my relationship with my son and that was wonderful ... we were the best of friends and even though he was now a teenager, he was never embarrassed to be seen in public with me. The two of us would go to the movies and shopping and do other things together.

Once in a while, we would bump into one of his friends from school or something when we were out. But unlike a lot of kids his age, he didn’t seem to mind being caught out on a date with his mother. He even introduced me to his friends as “his girl” – something that always made me smile and made my heart soar!

Looking back on it now, I feel like there were times when he wanted to feel like he was the man of the house and it was his job to look after me. I had never suggested it or put any kind of pressure on him to take on such a responsibility, but I think he felt he was getting older and it was time for him to step up. I admired him for wanting to take care of his mother that way, it was very grown up and mature of him. I wish there were more men that thought like that!

Almost before I knew it, my “little boy” David was 18 years old. I was starting to wonder when he was going to start dating girls and bringing them home to meet me. He was a good-looking boy, much like his father in a lot of ways ... tall, dark and handsome. And with his charm and easy-going nature, he should be dripping with girls!

I hate to admit it, but sometimes on especially lonely nights, I lay in my bed with my vibe in my hand and my mind would go back to the days with my Master. I would remember how the sex was back then as my vibe did its best to replace him. In my artificially-induced lust, I would start to wonder if my son was well hung like his father too.