Sunday Dec 24, 2017
It wasn't their first date. This time, it was her turn to pick. She had chosen an out of the way place, just for tonight's conversation. It was the right one for tonight, she thought. The food was good, but the booths had walls, and the ambient music was just loud enough that no one outside the booth could hear their conversation. She needed to talk, to tell him, and she needed him to hear.
They had been dating for a while. That is to say they had been out together, but not very long. They certainly hadn't had sex. Not that both of them didn't want to. But the anticipation of, and the small hints that were thrown about over the evening, kept their desire piqued.
He was gentle, at least with her, but he gave her space to be who she was. And he was a gentleman. Not the puffed or patronizing kind, no. He cared about her. Not too much. Enough. She spoke, he listened. Not just being silent waiting for her to finish what she was saying. He heard, he thought about it, then if she had asked, commented or acknowledged.
Their relationship was blooming, taking shape. They learned each other's edges. He was very patient. Never pushing, always respecting her as the strong independent woman she was. He encouraged. She was waiting to make sure. She so wanted to trust him with... all of it.
She really liked him. He was intelligent, not too much so, but some might say street smart. Tall and broad, capable and… He didn't miss much. Eyes that surveyed, saw deeper. He walked with purpose, not fast, not slow. Deliberate.
And she knew exactly how he moved. Watching, from the edges of her vision. Efficiency of movement, smooth and assured. Once, as they held hands and walked, she had turned and barely glimpsed the bulge. Turning quickly, she avoided the subject. It wasn't just that she wanted that. No. She wanted something more, something particular.
She knew she had to tell him. About all those books and videos and toys she kept. Hidden away from even her closest friends. What would they think? What would he think? She was hoping this time it would be different. But that had been months and months ago.
Looking across the table she could see his lips moving. Her eyes following each movement; wishing, wanting, wondering. That quirky smile, the occasional mischievous sparkle in his eyes that would so quickly disappear. He leaned forward slightly, asking, then waiting.
Silence. Drawing out, and on. She started, momentarily surprised. Was he waiting for her? What had he said? Her breath came faster for one, then again. He grinned widely and pointedly asked again. “What is it? You seem distracted.”
Her voice faded, caught, started again. “I, uhh. Ummm..” His hand came up, held her chin. Their eyes met. He leaned in, his soft, warm lips capturing hers… It was the same as their first. She melted. Her cunt twitched. Once. Twice. She could feel it building. She wanted, so badly to let go. Tumbling into the kiss, her tongue answered his. Strong arms pulled her closer. Pulled her to him. She gasped and drew back.
He released her instantly. She sat back into her chair, moved the lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes. Blinking, he asked. She reassured him. She was going to have to open herself. It was time. She knew. Praying this wouldn't be like the last.
She started, about the box with the toys, and the books, and the videos hidden in her secret place. She poured out her desires, explained her fantasies, about dominance and submission, and she watched him closely. His face impassive, listening, absorbing everything. Just for a second, that twinkle and then back to receptive.
Hoping this wouldn’t be like the other. That one had sat, with a shocked look. Judgement. Condemnation. Finally, with a hateful, cutting remark, left her sitting. Alone. Exposed. Abandoned. Sobbing. It had taken almost a year to venture out. She couldn't bear that again.
She was almost done. She had one more confession. His unreadable face had dissolved and in its place was a warmth, care and safety. He waited, patiently, affectionately. Their eyes met. Had he always known? She leaped into the abyss. She whispered, softly, “I want… I need… to be owned – mind, body and soul.”
Sitting stock still, wanting to run, hide, she looked down at her trembling hands. Sensing his movement, she lifted her head slightly. Her breath trapped by the lump in her throat as he stood. Slowly, and without looking down, he put on his coat.
Fighting back tears, she could feel her hands start toward her brimming eyes. His hand, a firm grip on her wrist cut her short. The slight pressure brought her to her feet. A quick flip with his other, splayed some bills on the table. Out through the other diners, through the front door, and into the night.
With his hand still in place, she followed him closely. He released her, as the door to the car swung open. She wasn't sure… His guiding hand on her shoulder, she sunk into the seat. Her mind was spinning, thoughts here, there everywhere. Was he taking her home? Could he be the one? Or… no. Please. No.
She could sense his determination. But for what? She didn't want to speak. She had done enough. Spilling her life onto the table for his … Approval? Judgement? Acceptance? Worse… Rejection.
His hand on hers, a calming gesture. Was he just taking it all in? What was that she had seen when their eyes met? Could it be happening? Or… But he didn't speak. And neither did she. The road dragged on. Her thoughts chaotic, frantic. The headlights from onrushing cars illuminating the shimmering tears of her exposed life.
Finally, the ride was over. He pulled into her driveway and came around to her side. Opening the door, he helped her up and out. She stepped each leg, wooden. He opened the front door, and in she walked. The lights were still dim, but the streetlight shone in from the front window. Her living room in stark relief. His hands lifting her coat, the rustling onto the rack. She stood, numb.
He moved away, silently. What now? Minutes, like hours, passed. The tick of the clock. The hum of the fridge. He returned. Pulled her close. Speaking in her ear, firm yet softly “shoes.” She was wide awake. Alert. Her cunt thrummed, feeling the wetness as she removed her shoes one, then the other.
He was behind her now. She could feel the texture of her area rug under her feet. His hand in her hair. His hard cock just brushing the back of her thigh. His voice filled with… control. Command. Desire. She spasmed. He whispered, “the dress.” Her hands pulling it up. He stopped her with a word.
“Neatly.” She paused. Folding the silken cloth, placing it with purpose, returning to him. She stood. He admired the red matching bra & garter set and the stockings that came up to the clasped bows. His gaze swept up and down, she felt him linger briefly on the dampness that soaked through her panties.
He spoke, “You dressed for me.” She blushed, and nodded. Their eyes met again. She saw it. What she had been waiting for. For years. For a lifetime. She looked down. He smiled, his pleasure radiating from him. His hand on her shoulder, easing her down. She knelt.
His fingers entwined in her silky locks, he quietly sighed, "You're Mine." The lush carpet soft on her knees, welcoming her to the place she belonged. Finally. As she lay her head against his thigh, the tears flowed… “Yes, Sir.”
©2017 Barak & Brat Sheba