I agreed to meet him on Friday evening, after chatting and flirting and fantasizing with him online for weeks.
We'd agreed to a unique kind of first meeting. We would meet in public, but there was also the understanding that I would be obedient and subservient to him, within reason and comfort level.
And since we were going to be in public, I would be safe. Even more thrilling to me was that since we were going to be in public, anything he would want me to do for him would involve the thrill of possibility of discover and the humiliation of being observed.
By now, we knew what each other looked like through descriptions and photos, and I'd heard the low growl of his voice over the phone as well. Still, on the thin pretext of recognizing me, he had made it clear that he would choose what I would wear. We both knew it was about something else, and I wasn't about to object.
He had also said that I wasn't to drive to our meeting. I guessed he wanted to feel myself out in public in the outfit he chose for as much as possible, but I wasn't sure. I felt my heart beat thinking about it, though, which I suppose was a success already.
The thing was, the meeting was in two hours, and I still didn't know what that chosen outfit would be. He had said he would email me the details, and I was still waiting. I was pacing around my apartment, my faced flushes with nervous anticipation which was again, no doubt, his expert intention. I'd washed and dry-cleaned just about everything I owned, just in case. It sometimes made me nervous how I would fare against a man who knew how to push my buttons so well even before I had even met him.
Time was flowing by, and it was nearly the time I'd have to leave to get there on time. Maybe this was another reason I had to take transit – he wanted to worry about the schedule too. Finally, my phone sounded out, and I jumped across the room to snatch it up and read the text.
Fuck, he was good. I read the details quickly, striding into my room to fetch the items. I was so short of time that I was throwing the stuff on the bed as I read.
Heels, of course -- too damned high to be comfortable in. A push up bra, demi-cup – black or red. Check – my red VS lace number would do nicely. Matching panties – good thing I got the whole set, so the lace thong went on the pile. Stockings, patterned – I laughed nervously to myself, as I'd known it was a mistake to tell him about my fishnets.
I'd made myself a bet about the skirt – tight or not – and I won. The instructions called for a short skirt, but pleated and loose. With him, and me as well, I knew the possibility of exposure would win out over the purely visual appeal of something that hugged my ass.
On top, a white front-buttoning blouse, preferably cotton. OK, I had plenty of those, and I guess I also knew why he wanted a dark-coloured bra. Besides the visibility of my lingerie, buttons, just like zippers, left the thought and possibility of adjusting just now much skin to show. Next was a vest, which was confused me. I mean, I liked the vest I knew he was referring to – which was a tailored black vest that a kind of scooped profile I front and looked good on me – but it would kind of cover up any trace of the bra's colour though my top. Oh well, there was no time to over think this whole thing.
The last note indicated that I was to wear my normal amount of perfume but with red lipstick and lip gloss, I was to wear no perfume, and that I should wear large hoop earrings as my only jewelery. I smiled a moment at the nice, small touches and then got busy getting dressed. Once I was all together, complete down to the wet-look lip gloss, I threw my keys and wallet in a small clutch and rushed out.
Sitting there on the streetcar, I could tell that I was drawing a few eyes, but nothing too unusual. I had left a couple of buttons undone on the blouse but I didn't open it to my limit, never knowing what more he might want. The real excitement was in my mind. My thoughts were racing, jumping from one possibility to the next. Some of my guesses had me mentally begging for more, some had me blushing just at the thought of them, and others had me wondering just how far I would really go. My cheeks reddened just a bit more when I realized that my nipples were stiff, and that my pretty, fresh panties were already being moistened. I had to try and clear my mind, just looking out the window at the buildings and sidewalks flowing by.
I was so intentionally spaced out that I actually missed the right stop, so I had to walk back about three blocks. I was still fine for time, but it was really more walking than I wanted to do in those heels. I was getting more looks now, as the stocking and heels and flirty skirt were much more visible while I was walking. A couple of times I had to reach back and make sure a breeze didn't flip its hemline up.
I walked into the little coffee shop we'd chosen. It was busy and bustling and loud. The small tables, mostly with two seats each, were reasonably spaced apart but were nearly all taken. With a sigh of relief, I spotted him, sitting at a table right in the midst of everything, and I walked over eagerly. I couldn't believe how loud my heart was pounding.
"Hello, Nicole," he said with a confidant smile before I could even sit down. "I'm so glad you're on time, and dressed just how you should be. Please go get us both large caffe lattes, and get extra whipped cream on yours."
"Yes, of course," I stammered. He took control immediately and while it shouldn't have surprised me, it did catch me off guard.
I ordered the coffees, paid and waited for them, standing at the counter. I wondered if he was starting at my legs and the short skirt – I hoped so, but I didn't dare look around to check.
When the two cups were finally in my hands, I had to take another deep breath before approaching him once more. This time he stood as I approached, coming around the table to pull out my chair. I had a surprised moment of appreciation of his gentlemanly gesture, but then I felt just enough of a guiding tug on my skirt to pull it back, and I feel my bare ass cheeks come into contact with the cold wooden surface of the chair.
Without comment, he simply helped me ease in my chair, then returned to his own, sliding into his seat with a knowing smile curling his lips.
"It's lovely to see you in person, finally, Nicole. Seeing you in motion is all that I knew and hoped that it would be."
I was nearly speechless with nerves and excitement but I managed to thank him, return the complement honestly, and start a bit of generic small talk. He was dressed simply in black jeans, a gray t-shirt and a crisp black cotton shirt untucked over that. His scalp was shaved clean. The sexiest thing about him though, more than his ruggedly handsome face, more than the obvious strength in his hand and arms, was just the confidence about him. He was going to ask for, insist on and take what he wanted. I wanted more and more for him to take it from me.
"So, Nicole, we're going to start slow, but we are going to start now. Assuming that you continue to feel comfortable with me, you will obey me and you will do the things I tell you to. I expect you to be prompt about it, I expect you to be complete in your obedience, and I expect you to always be honest about how it makes you feel. Don't assume anything and if you are unclear about something, ask me. Don't try to guess what I might want you to do or say. Is that clear so far?"
"Yes, that's clear, and I can do that," I answered. My heart was starting to pound again.
"Good girl. For starters, while we talk, I'd like you to keep your wrists crossed at the small of your back. In this way, you can think about that there might come a time when I'd want you to be handcuffed while we were out. For today, I would just like you to hold your hands there for me."
"Yes, okay." I slid my hands back and I felt immediately awkward. I had to sit up straight and the posture pushed my shoulders back. Of course, this pushed my breasts out toward him, and the buttons of my top strained just that little bit more.
I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks. It was such an obviously strange way to sit, and it was sure to be noticed eventually. I looked at him, at his smiling response, and then my glace dropped down to my large coffee. It looked delicious.
"Am I allowed to drink this?" I asked him.
"You can drink whatever you'd like of it," he replied with a widening smile, "In fact, I'd like that very much, but you are not to move your hands from their position."
"Are you serious?" I asked as my heart pounded.
"Of course I am. Why do you think I had you get yours with extra foam? It should be much easier for you to lick at."
I looked down again, seeing the pile of foamed milk, sprinkled with chocolate, and tried to wrap my head around what I was being asked to do. It was simple really – just lean down and give it a lick. I'd licked the foam off of coffee drinks like this before. This time I'd just have to lean farther down, since I wasn't allowed to lift the cup to my lips. Was that it? Was that why this was so powerful? Because I had to do it his way? My thoughts were racing, whether it would be more embarrassing to have him see me do it, or have some stranger see it and wonder what the hell was wrong with me.
.... There is more of this story ...