Philemon

There are many things that make a Domme and not all of them are smutty. I'm currently tripping on the power rush I've engineered by gradually taking charge of this man from a distance of several hundred miles away. In the back of the cab, I allow myself a faint smile as I recall the progression of events.

I had been in a lull at the time, not keen to pursue or hunt for a change. I'd had some difficult life situations to navigate and they had been occupying much of my thoughts. Instead of my usual hunting grounds, I'd opted for regular social media interactions, and so it was that I stumbled across him on Reddit. He'd been quite outspoken about an issue in a forum I engage with and this caused my formally dormant Domme to prick her ears up.

From a distance as it were, I observed him parry verbally with others and noted with interest his strong willed personality. There was a definite thrum of curiosity if not a vibe of desire swelling within me at the thought of breaking the will of such a man. Of course this was ridiculous since I had no idea of his age or looks or life situation. So dastardly as I am, I made a second account -- a ditsy flirty twenty something and used it to interact with him, to test. To gather further information.

Alas, but not unhappily, Ditsy flirty Lauren who was purposefully an open book, clearly didn't appeal to Phil_8888. He wasn't rude or anything, but he shut down her advances in a short space of time. But not before he'd explained he was much older than she and married.

I stayed away for a few days after that, thinking. Neither LilsexiLauren27 nor Bathshebatoyou77 were online at all till the following week. Lauren offered an apology via direct message to Phil for being so forward. His response to her was brief.

"No worries."

Bathshebatoyou77 (me) limited herself to merely posting responses in the forum, usually enigmatic ones I had concocted whilst supping my evening gin. One in particular caught his eye.

He'd posted about the use of soundtracks in films -- fairly normal considering we were both members of the Film&Cinema forum. He'd commented about the 2017 Dunkirk film that he'd just watched and how distractingly loud he'd found the soundtrack. I posted a little known piece of trivia, that according to Sir Kenneth Branagh, thirty Dunkirk survivors in their mid nineties who attended the premiere in London, stated that the movie had accurately captured the event, but that the soundtrack was louder than the actual bombardment.

Phil_8888's response was light hearted.

"Hey! I'm not ninety! I just don't like the feeling of my eardrums bursting whilst watching a movie."

Inexplicably, he'd added a winky face emoji.

I'd not yet begun to flirt up until now. I'd been cautious. But something had made him step out of his usual unapproachable style.

What though?

I could only assume it was the stories I post on Reddit. He must have checked my posting history and had seen them. Later I discovered this to be true.

Before long we were direct messaging, often until the early hours. Initially it was naturally about films and associated subjects, but as time went on, we became more personal. I learnt that he was early fifties and he lived a good distance away from me. He had been unhappily married for some time. (To be fair, I took that with a pinch of salt. It is an oft used line amongst men of a certain type and his 'type' was yet to be seen.') I am nothing if not hugely cynical of humankind in general.

After a few months we swapped numbers and moved to WhatsApp. There we got our first sighting of each other. I felt a definite jolt at seeing his cheeky, sculpted face and broad shoulders. I spent altogether too long examining his profile photo. But when he admitted to me he'd done the same, I didn't feel quite so bad.

The move to WhatsApp was a turning point. We became bolder, more personal. He brought up the topic of my stories.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so but I really like your Domme stories," he said one night. "Is that something you write about from personal experience?"

I chuckled in the dark to myself, surrounded by my whips and chains. I've been asked this question thousands of times. I always reply as I fancy.

"I guess so."

Always make them work for information. Make them thirsty.

Thirsty he became. His questions came thick and fast. The following night was the same. I decided I was being too giving and skipped a few nights. When I returned he was eager to know more and very forward.

After less than a month he made his desire for me known openly. There were hints no more. He wanted to experience what it would be like to be dominated. He didn't want to just hear about it. He wanted the reality. I inwardly questioned his eagerness. I also questioned why he'd spurned the advances of fake LilsexiLauren27 when many men would have jumped at the chance. I had after all, dropped huge hints that she was willing and hot -- a Scarlett Johanssen look alike no less.

I could only conclude it was the kink I represented that appealed.

After a few days deliberating, I agreed to his proposal on one condition. He must give himself to me for a full two days and nights.

This put him in quite the situation, I knew. I think he'd imagined that I'd go to him. Meet in some low brow hotel -- where I'd just whip him a bit, fuck for a few hours and then go. My proposal, my demands, would require much more though, like lying to his useless self centred wife, arranging plane tickets and taking time off work.

"Faint heart never won fair lady," I told him, when he went quiet briefly. "You must save your fear for the bedroom."

He responded with a wide eyed and then an aroused emoji. That very same morning he booked his tickets at 3:46am, ten minutes after I'd signed off.

So here I am, today, in the back of this cab, wearing black leathers and lace, on my way to pick up naughty boy Phil from the airport.

I'm still not sure what I'll do with him when I get him to my lair, but I know one thing...he's in need of discipline. Because he shouldn't have made me wait so long and he should have asked me what he should wear when instead he had to be told.

The cab pulled up outside the terminal and there he was as ordered, wearing black form fitting jeans, black boots, smart white shirt -- two buttons open, shades on, three day stubble and suitcase in hand. I didn't get out to greet him. The driver did so and opened the boot for him to stow his case. It would have been nice to watch his ass as he bent over but there would be plenty of time for me to fully appreciate his attributes, once I got him home.

The door opened to my left and in washed the pine needle scent of his cologne.

"Afternoon Mistress," he said. "Shall I sit in the front or the back?"

I smiled graciously and patted the seat in front of him.

"You may sit here."

"Thank you Lady Sheba."

Silence reigned on the journey home. In between the unsaid, much was said. Much was inferred as his nerves strung out tight. All the time his body spoke of his apprehension and the fullness of his desire.

As I observed his Adam's apple bob, I knew I was going to enjoy this next 48 hours to the max. I was going to enjoy him -- this uninitiated and undefiled man called Philemon.