So a week later, I walked down the tree-laden streets of the East Village that painted the sidewalk into a cluster of light and shadow as the sun filtered through the leaves. I was wearing a beige coat, nothing underneath it, and my slip-in heels. His was a narrow gray building, squeezed beneath tenement buildings. The door buzzer panel was decades old, dilapidated and worn. I pushed a button. A hiss on the door told me to push in. The stairs were crooked. There were no decorations. The paint had peeled and faded a few years ago already.

On the third floor, there was a soft, luxurious, white bath mat in front of a door. There was a wooden board with hooks next to the door. The wood was stained and sealed many times to look luxurious. Compared to the plain, worn building the front of the door almost seemed like an altar. There was a little window nearby that filled the space with sunlight. Only he would have spent that effort to prepare the outside of his apartment. If I would kneel, I would be bathed in rays of sunshine coming through that little window. I checked the apartment number. It was his.

I took a deep breath. Here went another red pill/blue pill moment. I pushed the buzzer square in the middle of the door. I heard a loud gong like from a Japanese temple. I felt rushed to get ready and slipped my coat on the hook. I felt the urge to neatly place my heels next to the door to offer myself completely naked. I kneeled with my knees on the bath mat, and the balls of my feet off the mat.

My heart pounded for him to come quickly and take me inside before the neighbors would see me. Any moment, I told myself. I started counting, somehow expecting that it wouldn't take him more than twenty seconds to come to the door in such a small apartment. Then I bargained with myself that he might have to put something down and take thirty seconds. I upped the limit to forty seconds because maybe he was toying with me. There was just silence - inside the apartment and outside. I was simply kneeling naked in a place where anyone at any moment could walk in on me.

As it became minutes that I was kneeling, I realized that I was handing over more and more power. Other women would have walked away. By staying, I signaled how willing I was, how eager I was, and how submissive I was to his wishes and orders. He'd know that it would be hard and unlikely for me to deny what he was going to do to me once he took me inside. I felt a little scared that he would know how submissive I was and how far he could push me because he would surely take advantage. I got this feeling that he did this to many women. He did not care about their choice. Yet if one stayed, he knew that he had his free way with him to do unspeakable things. "Unspeakable things," I whispered to myself - shocked at hearing my own voice. I had been so lost. But the curiosity as to what might happen didn't let me go.

Then the door opened. I hadn't heard his steps because he was barefoot. He was only wearing a white bathrobe like a French lord. He gave my face one quick glance. My face uncontrollable melted and pleaded with him to take me. I had spent all this time wanting him to come outside to take me in. Now I was desperate. I felt the acute sense of loss if he didn't take me in to experience what I didn't know but hoped to experience.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

Quickly, I opened my mouth to not miss the moment. I opened as wide as I would to please my dentist. Not even seeing his thumb, his thumb was in my mouth. Firmly, a bit painfully, he pinched my cheek between the thumb inside my mouth and his index finger outside. Without any delicacy, he pulled me forward, holding my head next to his hips. I was hunched forward, my butt was high. He pulled me into the apartment fiercely, almost violently. The pain, the sensitive spot in my mouth, the surprise, I had no other choice but to comply with him instantly.

With my head at this hip and hunched forward, I mostly only saw the floor and tried to strain upwards to see the room. The floor was dark mahogany. There was a rug with thick fur. A black leather whip was twisted on the ground. So many plants shone vibrantly green in the light-flooded room. He seemed to be an avid gardener. At the far end of the room was an X-shaped cross with restraints. That's the direction that he dragged me into.

That's how I met him. He never told me his name. He told me to refer to him as "Owner" to constantly remind me that I was his property. I wasn't simply a servant, but I was a thing that was completely owned. Despite the language, he was very caring. In long interviews, he asked me about all my preferences, dreams, and history. He keenly wanted to know every detail of how I experience things, feel about things, and react to them. He'd test me to do things to me and then ask me about the reactions that I showed him. "Why did you look away?" "What does that little smirk mean?" "I noticed you pausing. What went through your head?" He studied me intensely. And he fit his sessions to me like a snug glove.

One day, I told him about my fantasy of "free use." There is something entirely arousing about being used freely, without control, to be looked down on, to be mistreated, to be without influence. There is a whole world that I push away - impolite people, ugly people, pushy people. Sometimes, I want that whole world to flood in and take me over. I dared open up to him that sometimes, I want to be filled with lots of cum by lots of people. He silently nodded. I could see him making plans behind those quiet eyes - like a project plan was forming.

On a warm June day that will live into infamy, he walked me down the neighborhood streets to Tompkins Square Park. We looked like a normal couple. We are both well dressed. So it's natural that some heads turned to check us out. We walked into the park through the entrance with the chess board tables that I had described to you earlier. We hoped a small fence that's supposed to protect the flowers, shrubbery, and grass from being trampled on. I still vividly remember the yellow chalice-shaped flowers because their color was so vibrant and vaxy. The little plot wasn't large, but there was a tree with a giant canopy in the center and some bushes around it. He led me in between the bushes into that little cubby space between there.

He put his gym bag down. He took my clothes off - the summer dress, the bra, the panties, and the heels. They all ended up in the bag. We were sitting to be low enough to be out of sight. He guided me to lie on my back and placed my hands next to my shoulder. Then he wrapped a few runs of rope around my wrist and tied my wrists to lie open on the side of my shoulder. The rope ran behind my back and around the top of my biceps to restrain me like that. Then he ran two lines to the tree to spread my legs open in happy baby pose with my sex fully exposed. He ran more rope lines around my hip and from my body to make sure I was completely restrained but comfortble enough to lay like this for a long time. Finally, he placed a bright red ball gag into my mouth. He told me to speak. It was muffled. He told me to scream. It was muffled. Finally, he place a nanny cam hidden in a plush penguin in to the crook of the tree to watch me. Also a bottle of lube and a bowl of condoms next to my hips suggested what to do with me. He said that he'd watch me for safety, but not linger to not scare anyone off from using me. Then he walked away and was gone.

I lay there, naked, exposed, alone, and restrained. I worried about all the rough and weird people from the chess corner. I worried about men whose language I didn't even speak having their way with me. Earlier when we walked in, I had seen some immigrants from Africa who had recently shown up at a shelter. They spoke a foreign African language and acted very out of place, very skinny and tall man with rushed, big white eyes. They lingered in the park for hours because they didn't seem to have jobs or know what to do.

Probably, half an hour had passed with nothing happening. The tension had worn off. I was simply lying naked in a well-hidden place. People passed nearby. Nobody seemed to notice or know about me. There was a loud punk concert going on nearby. The noise also made me feel more hidden. Yet there was a mix of boredom and unspeakable tension. Part of my mind was sure that nobody would find me and that people would be too polite. Yet then I'd hear a sound and get startled out of my bones until I realized that it was simply a squirrel jumping from the tree into the bush.

Then it happened. The sound of plants breaking was heavier. I knew that a person was coming close. The person was really close but didn't seem to notice me. I heard a zipper. Then I heard the stream of piss angrily sprinkling the bush branches. The stream was strong. The homeless tend to have these very strong streams. It was definitely one of these people who cared so little to fit into society to not even walk to the nearby restroom. Then there was the pause in the pissing sound. I knew that I had been spotted. I knew that he was looking at me. The stream continued. The steps left hurried like he was going to tell his pals.

The voices at the chess square grew a bit louder, I heard the word "puta" called out loudly. My discoverer seemed to argue vehemently for his point while the others wanted to dismiss him. Then they walked over. The five of them were pretty close. They looked me over. They were the kind of panhandlers who walked around the subway asking for a dollar. They didn't seem scared by me. They felt at ease. They always felt at ease asking for money. They were used to not giving a fuck. One of them started pulling on my ropes. When he felt how firm they were, he said something that sounded like he was sure I wasn't going to go anywhere.

They left. I was by myself for a while. A young college couple that looked like punks living in the street came by to look at me. They had a demeanor like they were told about me and were curious to find out if it was true. He looked straight at my pussy to inspect how well-shaven it was. She hit him on the arm for staring too much. They walked away. I had the sense that word spread about the naked woman in the bushes.

I don't know how to paint it out for you. All the characters that I described in the beginning came out to watch at me and entertain themselves. Mostly, they dove through the bushes to see but stayed at a polite distance. Someone dared taking a look at the condom brands and remarked that they included XL size. I can't really recall all the vivid details, but I felt so helpless and also relaxed as people came to watch me. I think the relaxed came from me being unable to do anything about it. It simply happened that they'd look me up and down, see me naked, and walk away.

A gray-haired retired handyman with stubby fingers squeezed my nipples to try them out. A pink-haired punk girl with a black mini-skirt and over-the-knee black leather boots took out a sharpy and wrote on my belly: "So proud of your courage, unknown girl!" The more people seemed to talk out in the park about me, the more people came with very lusty eyes.

After a couple of hours, black African immigrants came, unfamiliar with local customs, they quickly pulled down their pants. Their bodies were skinny and tall. Their penises were pencil-like and long. The brushed their penises to make them grow harder. They seemed rushed, like they quickly wanted to get it going on. They took a last look around before they seemed to make their decision to plunge down on me.

That moment, my Owner broke through the push. He quickly cut the ropes with safety shears. He threw what he could grab into the gym bag. Then he wrapped me in my trench coat without even putting it on. He threw my whole body over his right shoulder and quickly carried me away. He had wanted to let me have a taste and to feel like it was real without ever getting me in harm's way. I hugged my arms to his body as he carried me down the streets through the light of dusk.