Author's note: These are the first two parts of a story. They are not packed with action or sex but they set the tone for what will follow. Themes are not wildly different from previous stories that I have written, but there will be more twists. This story is based on real-life experiences, blended with fictional elements. Ideas on future chapters are welcome and so is constructive criticism.
Paul
She stared at me, and I stared back at her for what felt like the entire evening. I'd never been the type to approach a stranger at a bar or a party, but that night felt different. The whole purpose of the event was to do exactly that. It was my first munch—a casual coffee gathering for kinky people—which I had reluctantly decided to attend under the persistent urging of my friend Helen.
"The weather's terrible, you've got no plans, and no excuse not to attend the munch," she'd insisted earlier that day. "If you stay in and play Xbox all evening, you're definitely not meeting anyone," she added with a teasing smirk.
Helen and I had been friends since high school, a rare example of a friendship enduring despite years spent studying and working in different countries. As a kinky person herself—a lesbian domme—she had been deeply involved in the communities where she'd lived. When she returned home, she naturally took on a leadership role in our local, much smaller, scene. Helen often argued that kink was far more common than people realized, but fear of being outed kept many from being open about it. This might have been true for me as well: a month earlier, I had ended things with my very vanilla girlfriend. While there were other issues between us, her lack of interest in sexual exploration had been a significant sticking point for me.
"Do you know her?" I asked Helen, "The tall one with the blonde hair."
"It's honey blonde, first of all," Helen corrected me. "And yes, I know her. She's dominant, just so you know. And she's kind of distant—honestly, I'm surprised she even came here."
"Should I go?"
"Not much to lose, I suppose. But don't get your hopes up."
I was still reluctant to make the first move and Helen stood up so she could visit the bathroom. "When I come back, I hope you'll have made your mind up," she said and left.
Five minutes went by, and Helen was still away; I figured there was only one ladies' room and it was busy. I tapped my fingers nervously until the woman I had been exchanging stares with sat down at my table. "For a grown man, you seem very startled," she said, offering her hand. "I'm Lia. Nice to meet you."
I shook her hand and smiled back at her. She was a commanding presence in the room, with long straight hair, a strong, flowery perfume, and a lofty figure that exuded confidence. We exchanged pleasantries, and then she asked me straight out if I was submissive. I told her I was, though it was only a half-truth. The reality was, I also enjoyed being in control in bed. Honestly, I wasn't entirely comfortable telling her what she wanted to hear, but she was incredibly attractive, and I figured I might as well take the chance and see where it led.
Lia fired off a series of questions: what my line of work was, how old I was, my living situation, whether I liked art or sports, and if I'd ever been married. She joked that she always interrogates her "prey." Though the rapid-fire questions made me feel like I was being interviewed, I couldn't deny that I liked the way she took charge.
Helen, meanwhile, did not return to the table at all. She got caught up with some acquaintances of hers and joined them at their table, ordering a new drink. "Go ahead, you've got this," she texted me and smiled from a distance.
"I'd like to have a drink somewhere else, if you're interested."
Lia chuckled softly and clapped her palms once. "Here's the thing. I like you. But I don't want to date you. I'm not looking for a date; I'm looking for a submissive. I have limited time, I'm writing my thesis, I work full time. There's no time nor appetite for dating. That being said, I'm very inclined to offer you a chance to be my sub."
"I don't say I'm not interested, but for me what you're offering is a black box. I don't know what's in it."
"Tell you what. Give me your phone and your email. I'll give you more information later today. And if what I say is of any interest to you, I'll invite you for dinner."
I agreed, and we parted ways. As I made my way home, I found myself reflecting on the situation. On one hand, I was disappointed that Lia didn't want to pursue a relationship, but on the other, I had just come out of a long-term relationship where we had lived together. Maybe it was for the best—avoiding another deep commitment so soon could give me the space I needed to heal.
Normally, on Saturdays that I stayed in, I picked a movie and then fell asleep on the couch an hour later, at the latest. But that Saturday, I was on edge, unable to relax, so I chose to fire up my console and tried to get absorbed into my games.
"Hi there. If you're still onboard, check your email. Don't rush to give me an answer, take your time, and ask me any questions you may have. These rules are a negotiation base."
My hands trembled as I grabbed my tablet to open the file; I didn't like reading on my phone.
Basic rules
You are to address me as "Mistress" in private and "Ma'am" in public. Use of my first name or pet names is prohibited.
Your presence is required twice a week, one of which must be either Friday or Saturday, unless previously discussed. More often meet-ups are voluntary and have to be mutually agreed.
When you come to my home, you take off your shoes and clothes, you wash your hands and you come kneel next to me with your eyes looking down. Unless I speak first, you are to remain silent.
Disobedience, sarcasm, or talking back are not allowed. When you are given an order, you say "Yes, Mistress," and execute it.
Unless you are given permission, you are not allowed to use any piece of furniture. Your place is at my feet.
Although household chores are not part of your duties, personal service is. Things like baths, hair brushing, massages etc. are expected and welcome.
You are not permitted to present me as your girlfriend or say to anyone about me. The same goes for me as well.
You will be asked to highlight your limits. Whatever is included in our itinerary can be used at any time, at my discretion.
To be fair, I'd never been in a relationship that started with a set of rules. It was an intriguing approach, though I figured any arrangement would likely be short-lived. In my opinion, intimacy and romance were essential for a long-term partnership.
I sent Lia a positive response, which she received with enthusiasm. She then forwarded me a spreadsheet listing various fetishes, which I was to rate from one to five—one being a hard limit and five a must. "Take your time to read through them carefully, and maybe do some research. Sleep on it," she said in her text.
"I would appreciate it if you gave me the list with your own answers, from a dominant standpoint. Let's say to know what's coming."
"None of my previous subs have asked for it but I will do it. It will be fun to complete the survey."
Lia also asked about my schedule during the week and announced that she would cook me dinner on Tuesday evening; she also mentioned that until further notice, none of the rules were in place.
I spent a good portion of my Sunday filling out the survey. Some of the entries genuinely terrified me—and earned a 1—but for the most part, I kept an open mind. Later that day, she sent me her own list, which was a relief. Adapting to hers would certainly be challenging, but she didn't seem drawn to the more 'hardcore' items I had already crossed off my list. She was also unaware of mine, since I hadn't sent it yet. When I asked why she had those preferences, she explained that there were certain acts she was open to trying occasionally, to satisfy her partner. She also asked if I had any fetishes related to clothes or colors, which I did. "I don't mind dressing up a bit if it makes your knees weaker," she revealed. Her words cracked the strict façade she had built during our earlier conversations, hinting at something kinder beneath.
If I said I wasn't nervous driving to her place on Tuesday evening, I'd be lying. I brought a good bottle of red wine, carefully selected my clothes, and gathered all the courage I could muster. She greeted me warmly and had prepared a lovely meal—chicken breast with roasted potatoes and vegetables—that paired perfectly with the wine. I also noticed she was wearing a skirt with tights and low heels—exactly the kind of outfit I'd mentioned liking—something a bit unusual for cooking at home. But the most striking detail was the blue leather collar waiting on the other side of the table, a silent reminder of why we were sharing this meal together.
"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?" she said after we finished our meal.
"Nope," I shook my head.
"Anything you'd like to share?"
"I don't think so."
"Not even the fact that you're not submissive?"
She caught me by surprise; I didn't expect her to find out this soon.
"Your friend Helen is a little chatty. I found out your profile and figured you're a switch."
I wouldn't personally describe Helen as chatty, and I wondered how Lia had discovered this secret; there was no way Helen had told her who I was.
"I was impressed by you. Wanted to maximize my chances. I apologize."
She scoffed, "If a switch wants to accept my terms, I'm more than happy to take him. Taming someone who has dominant instincts is a challenge of its own, which I relish. I don't appreciate lies, though."
"I'm sorry; you're right. It was an impulsive decision."
"Is there anything more I should be aware of?"
"No. But I would understand if you thought otherwise."
At this moment, I really thought I had ruined my chances, and I was prepared to leave.
"My offer stands. However, I had prepared a welcome present for you which you"ve now lost. You've also lost the chance of penetrative sex and of eating me out for the next two weeks."
