The ruby liquid sparkled and winked in the candlelight as it was expertly poured into the crystal wine glasses, which clinked together merrily in an unspoken toast, causing the alcohol to dance and sway. Rose smiled, moving the goblet to her painted lips and sipping slowly, keeping her dark eyes on the man seated opposite her. It was hard to imagine that this guy was an active participant in BDSM; from all the stereotypes she had heard, part of her had expected to be greeted by a large biker with a shaved head and tattoo-covered arms, before being whisked back to a shoddy apartment, painted black and furnished solely in leather. Instead, this gorgeous, charming man, clean-shaven and muscular, had appeared and escorted her to the most glamorous restaurant in town. She smirked to herself; maybe she should have tried getting into this stuff years ago…

Her partner leaned forward, intent, interested.

“So, Rose. Tell me more about yourself.”

She placed her glass back on the silk tablecloth with a small sound of annoyance.

“God, I don’t know what else there really is to tell. My life’s not all that exciting. Why can’t we talk about you, instead?”

“That’s not true; I think you’re fascinating. Come on, tell me what you like to do for fun or something,” he prompted, apparently not hearing her last question. She laughed.

“I don’t usually have time for fun. I’m a paralegal for Berger and Ames. My nights are usually spent stressing and poring over huge books, not…well, nothing like this.”

He placed his strong hand over her delicate one.

“I’m glad I get to be the one to change that. Maybe I’ll be able to make all that stress melt away…”

She blushed and looked down at the table, unable to meet his intense gaze. He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Rose…you know you have nothing to be afraid of,” he reassured quietly. “I know you’ve never done anything like this before, but I promise it’ll be amazing if you just let yourself relax. Trust Master.”

She slipped her hand away, occupying herself, instead, with the present he had brought her: her floral namesake, petals clad in bright crimson, whose hidden thorns pricked her fingertips as she nervously played with it. Deciding it was time to leave, he asked for the check, and, taking her arm in his, walked her out to his car, accidentally leaving the gift alone and drooping sadly off the table’s edge.

The small bits of conversation on the way back were mostly forced and awkward; Rose seemed more focused on continuously smoothing out her black skirt, while her date maneuvered the winding roads back to his home, allowing her to be alone with her thoughts.

The dim glow of the headlights flashed against the house’s yellow siding as the couple pulled into the driveway. The vehicle’s motor purred in gentle appreciation as the two surveyed the building, an appreciation that was mirrored by the almost-hidden smile on Rose’s face. The man she knew only as Master broke the silence first:

“Well…here we are. Don’t feel pressured to come in if—”

“I don’t,” she whispered.

“This is a big decision, Rose. If you come in, you’re agreeing to be mine—”

“I know.”

Slowly, deliberately, as if giving her time to change her mind, he killed the engine.

“C’mon, then,” he said, cracking open his door. “Let me show you around.”

At his cue, she also exited and followed him up two little concrete steps to the front entrance. Master’s key struggled to fill the lock for a moment, but, finally, he twisted the knob and invited her inside.

The living room was perfect: a soft-looking sofa, a big-screen TV, several nice armchairs, pictures lining the wall; a small kitchen, stocked with slick, silver appliances, lay beyond that. Between the two resided the only thing that seemed out of place: an old, slightly-banged up door, an ordinary brown rectangle detracting from the space’s charm.

“So…this is pretty much it,” Master said, gesturing around.

“What, you sleep on the couch?” she smiled, brushing past him and flopping down on said piece of furniture, sinking into its comfy cushions; he grinned back, glad to see her sense of humor returning.

“No, I actually have a very nice bed; I just didn’t want you to call me a prick and storm out if I led you straight to my room.”

He joined her on the sofa, putting an arm around her that she happily snuggled into.

“Besides,” he added, “if you want an intro to bondism, that’s not where we’d be headed, anyway.”

She looked up, curious eyes locked on him. He nodded towards the old door.

“That’s where all the magic happens.”

“Okay, well, let’s go, then,” she ordered, focused on the small passageway.

“Hey, not so fast. I’m the master here,” he laughed, playfully smacking her butt. “I get to make the decisions.”

She turned, a teasing smile lighting her face.

“I’m sorry. After you, then, Master,” she said with a bow. Standing, he moved towards the door and motioned her to follow him; like a good slave, she obeyed with pleasure.