[Hello Lovers! Ready for Chapter four?
...usual rules apply: This is 4 of 11 - I can only remind you that you'll enjoy it more if you're up to date with the story so far - what you do with that information is your choice ;)
Enjoy! EG x]
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I arrive at Mr Swift's house at 7pm sharp as instructed.
I'm dressed demurely in a navy shift dress teamed with nude patent heels and I've swept my ringlets into what I hope will pass for an elegant chignon.
As I start up the path, Mr Swift appears in the doorway, closing the door behind him.
'Miss Blake, you look beautiful. Shall we?', he motions to his gleaming black BMW. I nod as he walks around to open the door for me.
Sitting back against the elegant suede interior, I try to readjust to our new situation and as he starts the engine I ask
'So where are we going for dinner, Master?'
'A French bistro in town,' he replies, 'it's very good.' he smiles, instantly putting me at ease.
He turns the radio on and I'm grateful for the classical music filling the car -- I've never been a fan, but it saves me embarrassing myself trying to make small talk.
We pull up outside a very chic restaurant and an attractive young guy with floppy blonde hair and a red waistcoat takes Mr Swift's keys to park the car. Mr Swift lays a firm hand on my hip, guiding me gently to the entrance.
'Bonjour Monsieur Swift!' A tall, slim man in a crisp white shirt, silk black waistcoat and matching bowtie greets him warmly, 'Your usual table awaits Sir,' he leads us to a round table in a corner, draped with white linen and already set with more silver cutlery and expensive looking glassware than feels necessary for two people.
Mr Swift pulls out my chair and gestures for me to sit. I do, as he seats himself to my left and says to the waiter,
'Merci, Marco. We'll have a bottle of the Muscadet please. The salad niΓ§oise to start and the Poulet aux Porto.' He smiles,
'Excellent choices, Monsieur Swift.' Marco offers a little bow and turns on his heel.
'I don't even get to look at the menu?' I mutter, a little petulantly, and he just smiles impassively,
'Miss Blake, one thing all we Dominant's have in common, is a desire for control, and to take care of our subs. As a general rule, when you are out socially with a Dominant, he will decide where you eat, what you eat and so on. Besides, have a little faith, I'm an exceptionally good reader of people and I'm quite sure you'll like what I've chosen.'
His voice is so calm it's hard to stay annoyed.
Marco returns with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket, opens it with a flourish and pours a little for Mr Swift to taste. Satisfied with his answering nod, he fills both our glasses.
'Pierre will be along shortly with your starters.' He smiles and gives another little bow as he retreats.
'I assume you're a regular here, Master?' I ask Mr Swift, cursing myself for the lacklustre attempt at making conversation. He nods,
'In public, Jessica, Mr Swift will be fine. And yes, it's the closest you'll find to authentic French food in the city, though you can't top the real thing. Have you been to France, Jessica?' I shake my head
'No, Mr Swift, I've always wanted to visit Paris, but as yet, no.'
'It's a wonderful city', he nods, 'If you do start working for Crystal, I'm sure you'll be able to fulfil all your desires -- for travel.' He adds, smirking a little, making me blush.
I'm relieved when a waiter approaches the table carrying our food. His uniform is just black trousers, white shirt, black bowtie -- no waistcoat for Pierre, I guess he's a lower rung of the food chain than Marco.
I find myself wondering where I'd fit in the hierarchy. I bet even Marco isn't earning Β£1000 an hour though.
'Bon Appetit, Miss Blake,' Mr Swift gestures to the plate in front of me and I tuck in to the fresh, crunchy salad. I have to admit, it's wonderful.
'Thank you, Mr Swift, this is delicious.' I say in appreciation
'You're most welcome, Miss Blake. Now as I said last night, for the duration of our meal, I'm happy to answer any questions you may have, so please, ask away, be as candid as you like.'
Okay. Where to begin? I chew thoughtfully before asking him my first question,
'If I take the job, will I be expected to submit to punishment?' I almost whisper the last word.
'Almost certainly yes. I have met very few Dominants who don't enjoy enforcing some sort of discipline on their subs. Of course, that means different things to different people, and as I've told you, as a consenting sub, you'd be free to set your own limits, but setting punishment as a whole as a hard limit would massively restrict your potential client base.' He confirms my own assumptions, so I move on to my second question,
'Will you train me in how to accept discipline? I mean, in firmer ways than last night.'
'Oh, I absolutely will, yes.' He smiles at me with a deviant glint in his eye and I hear my own breath catch in my throat. 'Don't look so worried Jessica! I'm not going to move straight to whipping you mercilessly - we'll take it slowly and build up your tolerance.' I must still look unconvinced as he continues,
'A Dominant doesn't set out to cause physical harm to his sub, Jessica - quite the opposite! Punishments are designed for the submissive's pleasure as well the Dominant's and a good Dom is very in tune with his subs limits and will only ever push her as far as he knows she can go. Plus, in the unlikely event that a Dominant does overestimate your limits, you'd have the option to safe word.' I see. That immediately makes me ask him about something else that's been on my mind.
'Speaking of that,' I start, tentatively, 'Hypothetically, if I was with a client, and I did safe word, how do I know he'd stop? What if he's enjoying himself too much and just carries on regardless?' Mr Swift smiles at me, with a look of something that might be, admiration?
'That, Miss Blake, is a very astute question, and I'm glad you've asked it.'
Oh. I think, well yay me!
'I'm sure you're aware,' he goes on, 'that many -- let's say more conventional sex workers, do sadly find themselves in unpleasant situations. Some men, sadly, lack respect, which is entirely unforgiveable.' His face has darkened, but brightens as he continues, 'Crystal, on the other hand, has built an agency that excels in all ways, but especially in her safe guarding of her precious jewels.'
I rest my hand on my chin, giving him my full attention,
'The agency is very exclusive, Jessica. Not simply because it's expensive, but also because it is very discreet and difficult to come by. Every client you meet will have been thoroughly screened and vetted, and made to sign an agreement to abide by the agency's standards. The men you will submit to are wealthy, influential and intelligent. Any breach of the agreement they sign would do far more harm to them than you. Does that set your mind at ease, Jessica?' I nod. It actually does.
'Now, you can ask more questions while we eat our main course. For now, put your clutch bag on the table.'
Confused, I do as I'm told.
He produces a small silver butt plug from his inside pocket and slips it inside my bag.
'I want you to go to the ladies Jessica, remove your panties, insert your toy from last night and bring your panties back to me.'
My eyes widen. Is he for real?
'Do I need to remind you of the importance of prompt obedience, Miss Blake? Please don't think I'm not capable of punishing you right here in the restaurant.'
Yes, he's for real.
'But I don't have any lubricant!' I hiss in a low whisper.
'Then slide it inside your sweet cunt first. I'm sure it's full of your creamy juices by now - those are the best lubricant of all.' He sits back and sips his wine.
This is it. I either need to safe word or go and do as I'm told.
My brain is screaming red but the aching between my legs is taking control.
I excuse myself and get up, trying not to giggle as he briefly stands too like the perfect gentleman he is. Oh, the irony.
As I sit in the bathroom cubicle, I try to calm my breathing and gather my thoughts. I know I don't have long to complete his instructions.
A grand an hour, I tell myself.
Though I know that the reasons I'm planning to go through with this are actually far less practical and much more wanton.
I tug my panties off and fold them up neatly, stuffing them inside my clutch and retrieving the silver plug. I'm surprised at how small it is - not much thicker than the dildo I used last night, and certainly shorter. I can do this.
I spread my legs, tilting my hips so I can access my tight hole. I dip my fingers briefly in my pussy. He was absolutely right of course, I'm already dripping. I smear my creamy juices over my tighter hole and push my fingertip inside.
Get on with it, Jessica, I urge myself inwardly, he won't like to be kept waiting.
I take the silver toy and push it deep into my pussy easily, pumping myself with it a few times to get it as slick as possible. Breathing deeply, I position the tip against my puckered hole and push gently. As it stretches me open, I'm surprised by how easily I take the whole thing, less so by how good it feels.
As I stand, my cheeks clench around the plug keeping it in place and it feels, wonderful. I take a breath, straighten out my dress and leave the cubicle to wash my hands.
When I return to the table, he smiles warmly at me.
'Everything alright Miss Blake?' He asks, standing to pull out my chair.