Chapter 1

It had been on his mind eternally, a yearning to meeting those of a similar frame of mind especially those females who had stated they had an admiration for his work, but only via e-mail comments thus far. A meet had been arranged at a quiet café in a small town to the south of where he lived; the venue determined as somewhere where all could remain incognito.

His work had always expressed his strong desire to be submissive in the presence of dominant women, the characters within his stories a way of relieving those desires; now he was to meet face to face with people who had expressed an appreciation of that work, several of them openly dominant women. The idea had his nether regions tingling and made him sweat as he drove south. The thought of some of the comments made by the women about his most explicit of works gave him an erection as he thought of meeting them in the flesh. He turned into the main street and found a parking space, and then walked to the café, breathing heavily and feeling like a condemned man; the innocuous café now seeming like a place of execution. After a brief pause and moment of panic in which he thought of returning to his car, he took a deep breath and walked in.

The chosen venue had a sultry feel to it; though just a café, it was well appointed with comfortable leather seating; the narrow frontage belied its size; like a cornucopia it went way back, passers-by would not see those within who had chosen to sit six or seven tables beyond the window. He looked around at the few people who sat around at the nearer tables; all were obviously just customers, so he then sheepishly approached the counter where a girl smiled at him, his body language showing her that coffee was not paramount upon his mind.

"You must be with the party at tables 25 & 26; just go down and take a seat and I'll come and take your order in a moment." He thanked the smiling girl and was not sure if he felt easier or more scared at knowing exactly where to go. He took a deep breath, adjusted his posture and walked down past the tables where people sat with newspapers, chatting or sipping coffee, oblivious to his adventure. He tried to walk as casually as he could but his legs felt leaden as he prepared himself for visual contact. His inner self was not disappointed with the immediate view he had of those at tables 25 & 26 as he approached, though outwardly they made him all the more nervous. Four women and two men sat at the tables; all were aged between 40 and 60, the women all dressed smartly but casually, all had a powerful look about them, a submissive's heaven. He made his move.

"Hi, I'm a member of the 'net authors' group" This was not the actual name of the website but he felt coy about naming it in public, just in case there was some error. An Auburn haired woman in a tight black dress gave him a broad smile and pursed her lips, and then pointed the seat directly opposite her.

"You sit there, I want to have a good look at you; don't tell us who you are, we are all going to guess who's who when everyone is here." He was sat next to a severe and equally attractive blonde woman, which did not help his erection which he was acutely aware of as it stiffened with the atmosphere. The blonde sat with crossed legs; her ample thighs displayed nicely by a tight bottle-green dress, her chin in her hand as she rested her elbow on the table. She looked at him with a friendly smile which was edged with her natural contempt for an inferior male. The two males said their hellos, and one of them was about to reveal perhaps a little too much about himself, when he was hushed by the third woman, a delightfully assertive brunette in her late fifties with hair in a bun and stern glasses, very shapely in a fifties style retro outfit; she put her upright finger to her lips and looked sternly at him, silencing him immediately and putting him firmly in his place. Though the portly balding male had never met the woman before, he sat back and cowered a little; it was apparent he knew his place, and there was no doubt which gender held the upper hand.

Just as he was beginning to feel a little at ease, a perfectly shaped redhead also of mature years strutted elegantly to the table, black satin leggings and blouse expressing her womanly curves to excellent effect. She simply looked at him and waggled a pointed finger at the bench seat, making him squeeze carefully up close to the blonde; she simply smiled but did not move. The redhead sat down at an angle, as if ready to interrogate him in conjunction with the blonde; he was hemmed in between the two. The auburn haired woman smiled contentedly at all in attendance, especially the three males; the portly male and the third example, a wiry man with a goatee beard, sat smiling too, ogling the women that they sat with. Our author sat with timid smile; he had a reverence for all women, and these were all obviously very assertive examples. The waitress appeared, somehow looking sexier than any waitress could ever have looked in his eyes; his erection now seemed permanent, the soft scent of the closely sat women ensured that.

"Can I take your order now?" The redhead looked down at the bulge in his jeans and responded with a wickedly candid delivery.

"I'll have whatever he's having." The three other women looked him directly in the eye with stern smiles which mad him blush like a schoolboy at first, though the redhead's comment help break the ice; not that the temperature was cool anyhow. They placed their order and the males were asked one by one, what it was they appreciated about women, and who their favourite five authors were within the website. The wiry man mentioned several of the more popular authors, liked bdsm, and women who were adventurous and diverse; he didn't mind them having the upper hand from time to time, but liked to switch with regularity. The women crossed their arms and lifted their chins as he spoke; the redhead's eyes drifted to the bulge in the thin cotton trousers next to her, this was no doubt of more interest. The portly man was more forthright; he loved to be at the beck and call of women, especially younger ones. As he reeled off his favourite authors, the bulge twitched visibly as its owner heard his nom-de-plume mentioned; it stiffened all the more as he perceived that the women seemed to smile with appreciation at hearing the name, yes 'Caspian' was a very good author. He thought he had not given away any signs, but Caspian broke into a cold sweat as he noticed the female eyes upon him, before the portly man had anywhere near finished.