I was working out the finishing touches on a deal over lunch at a tavern near my downtown office. I work for a large telecom company, and this deal would improve our computer support levels and save my department six figures in our annual budget. I had arrived early, my adversary in negotiation needing to check out of his hotel before our final meeting.
That's when the unlikely couple came in. Their physical appearance in itself was notable. She was tall and athletic; not unlike a blonde version of myself. Her heels elevated her several inches over his slender frame. But what resonated with me was their demeanor. She was commanding, he was deferential. As they made their way to a table, I could only see her well, him being eclipsed by her larger frame.
Once they were seated, the man was facing in my general direction. I recognized him as a fellow employee from a different department of my office. We had never spoken, and I didn't know his name, but I walked past his desk at least twice a day, on my way in and out of the building.
When the waitress came to take their drink orders, the woman spoke for both. That's when I knew what they were. Regardless how formally they identified it, there was no mistaking it - she was a Domme, and he was her sub. It takes one to know one, and while we had never met, I certainly knew her.
I was grateful for the large plant between us, which allowed me to lean to one side and steal brief glances at my choosing. My view of her was from slightly behind, allowing me to discern her demeanor while avoiding her peripheral view.
I could also see her shapely stockinged calf below the hem of her dress. Her legs were crossed, and she casually bounced the top one. The sunlight streaming through the window periodically flashed off something at her ankle. I surmised it was an anklet, but I was too far away to see a chain. What I did see was the thing catching the light -- a small key.
So, her boy was locked. How lovely! I looked forward to the next time I saw him at work, now that I knew the secret he had in his pants. Ten-to-one it's encased in some pretty little panties, I mused.
My lunch partner's arrival forced me to drastically reduce my prurient surveillance of the couple. I turned my focus to the remaining details of our contract, while at the same time talking up the rush hour traffic that he was bound to hit on his way to the airport. It wasn't a lie, but I did exaggerate a bit, wanting to send him on his way as soon as possible.
By the time my deal was settled, I volunteered to cover the tab, but told him I wanted to stay and finish my drink. I bade him blue skies and settled in to catch up with my new friends. Up to this point, I had only been able to discern that they were engaged in a fairly emotional discussion.
Now I saw things at their table had progressed, but not in a good way. Their discussion was animated, and he was clearly distraught. When he dropped a napkin and bent down to retrieve it, he stayed down longer than necessary. I leaned forward in time to see him kissing her foot. By the time he came back up, he was crying openly. I felt an instant pang in my heart for both of them. Him for his obvious anguish, and her for the embarrassment of the public scene her boy was making. I wondered if he was one of those subs overly prone to emotional outbursts.
I knew I was mistaken when he handed her the anklet chain. She took the key off it, kept the chain and handed the key back to him. There could be only two reasons for that. Normally it would be so he could release himself, but his misery precluded that explanation. The alternative was that she no longer wanted to hold his key. That she no longer wanted to be his Domme. This was a breakup -- one not mutually agreed upon.
I flashed back to my first sub. To the haphazard way we had both stumbled into our respective roles. How vulnerable he had been, how ineptly I had asserted my authority, not knowing any better. How sadly it had ended. I wanted something better for them.
It had been over a year since I had enjoyed having a dedicated sub, something more difficult to find than might be imagined. Beta males who court the lifestyle can make for a fun diversion, but most lack the devotion I require. The need to center their life around the adoration of a woman. In most cases, better to put them on the cocks they need to suck and leave them to revel in their feelings of inferiority.
A long-term, Domme/sub relationship is far more special, and rare. Now I had the chance to snatch up a sub who knew what he wanted; and better yet, was already trained. The opportunity was simply too promising to pass up. I settled my tab and hurried back to the office, intent on getting there before my quarry.
Stopping by his vacant cubicle, I did a quick visual scan of his workspace whilst pretending to jot a note to him. His computer monitor held an assortment of post-it notes, including one addressed to him. Just his first name -- Don -- but it was all the clue I needed. Returning to my own desk, it was a simple matter to pull up the organizational roster for his department. Sure enough, there was only one Don - Donald Armstrong. I sent an E-mail to his corporate account, using a personal account that didn't reveal my name. He would learn that soon enough, if he proved worthy. I sent it after hours, so he would have a night to let his new situation sink in before he saw it. The letter read,
* * *
Hello Don,
We haven't met, but I know you're going through a very tough time right now. You don't know me, but I understand and am in a position to help. You've lost someone very important to you. I can fill the hole she left, provided we are compatible.
You haven't used your key yet, have you? I know it was tempting, but it didn't feel right, did it? Being unlocked is a special reward, and you just don't feel you deserve a reward. If I'm wrong about that, please don't reply. I wish you all the best, and hope you find another Domme who will give you what you need.
But if I'm right, RSVP to this invitation for a private interview at 6245 Riverside Drive this Saturday at 1PM. And bring your key.
Mistress Jacqueline
* * *
His reply was time-stamped at 9:36 AM the next day. Given that he probably went through several re-writes, I judged he had made his decision in less than an hour. Perfect; not too hasty, but no prolonged agonizing either. I read it a second time, hoping for further insight.
* * *
Mistress Jacqueline,
How do you know? How could you know? I was convinced my mistress must have told you, but she swears not, and I believe her. So, I am left to reply without knowing. But you obviously do know. And you are right -- I haven't used my key, for exactly the reason you stated. It's like you're in my head. It's scary, yet somehow comforting.
I feel compelled to trust you; to trust the fates that brought me to your notice. Rest assured I will arrive at the specified time, for I am nothing if not a person of my word.
* * *
Interesting, I thought. The more common form of that phrase would be "a
man
of my word." A woman might naturally use the more generic formulation, but in this case, I couldn't help thinking a more conscious process took place. Interesting, but perhaps not surprising.
Promptly at 1 PM that Saturday my doorbell rang, and I watched through the ring camera as he fussed with his hair in the reflection of the sidelight glass. Out of nowhere, I was struck with an analogy in which I was the spider, and he was the fly. The only difference being that flies don't volunteer to enter the web. I opened the door and saw the mix of recognition and confusion as he struggled to place me.
"Mistress Jacqueline?"
"Yes, Don; welcome to my home. Please come in and have a seat."
We made ourselves comfortable in the living room. I got him to give me a brief background on his situation. I was relieved to learn the breakup was not related to any failure on his part. His Domme had moved out of state to pursue a career opportunity. He wasn't financially dependent on her; he was simply emotionally bereft. So far, he was checking all the boxes. He wasted no time revealing what was on his mind.
"I can't stop thinking about it... about how you knew. Please tell me."
"I realized you would ask me, and I've considered the options. I will tell you if you insist, but first I want to share my thinking. I acknowledge the value in telling the truth, but where is the virtue in telling every child that Santa isn't real? I don't have all the answers, and I may not always be the right person to provide the ones I have. Sometimes imagination can provide welcome comfort. Let me ask you, curiosity aside, is it
really
important that you know?"
He was turning it over in his head and I was pleased to see there was genuine deliberation.
"I thought it was important, but I also see wisdom in your words. Perhaps for now, it's enough to know you will tell me if I ask again."
"I promise. And I too, am a person of my word."
Was it my message that made him smile, or my highlighting of his own phrasing? Playing with an unfamiliar body is always fun, but my greatest pleasure is derived from exploring that largest of sex organs.
"Tell me Don, how long had your previous relationship been exclusively Domme/sub?"
