Two Velvet Gloves
Themes/content warning: Female Led Relationship, FemDom, male sub, high heels, Keyholder, cockcage, mild CBT, consent as rapport in a LTR
You'll be here in a minute. You're taking me out for dinner tonight and you're never late. We're going to the finest restaurant in town, and I've dressed for the occasion. The stockings that you love me to wear, tucked into a pair of heels so high that I am almost the same height as you when I wear them. A figure-hugging black velvet dress that emphasises the smooth, firm curve of my arse. I've put my long, red hair up in an elegant bun, adorned with a black and antique gold feather fascinator. Now I am taller than you. I put on a wolf faux fur shrug that makes people stop and stare. Only some of them notice the tiny golden key hanging like a pendant around my neck on a fine gold chain. One last thing, to complete my outfit - two long, black, perfectly fitted velvet gloves.
I hear your car pulling up outside. Then your key in the door, and your footsteps on the stairs. They fall silent outside my door.
"Come!" I command, and you open the door and enter.
You see them as soon as you come into the room. The gloves. I see you swallow nervously, and I know that you're hard in your cage now. You know what to expect, I've trained you. You swallow again. I walk over to you, and with one gloved finger I tip your chin up so you're looking straight into my eyes. I lean in to kiss you, leaving scarlet lipstick on your lips. Laughing, I command you to fix the perfect lipstick that I've just ruined, but I don't allow you to remove the traces from your own lips. You're mine. I own you and everyone will be able to see it.
We walk out to the car, you hold the door open for me, as I slide gracefully into the passenger seat. You drive us to the restaurant, and I take your arm as we walk through the door. The waiter comes, addressing you - you're the man after all. I allow it. The menu comes and I choose two meals. I can never decide what I want to eat, so I choose two and try both, allowing you to eat whatever's left. When the waiter comes and takes the order from you, he thinks you're ordering for me. It amuses me. When he's gone, I reach forward and caress your face with my gloved hand. You swallow hard. Under the table, I run the toe of my shoe up your calf, before pressing the heel sharply into your groin. You take a sharp intake of breath, before whispering:
"Thank you, Goddess."
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When I've finished eating, I have desert. I take my time to eat it, savouring it slowly and looking you in the eyes as I place each mouthful languorously into my mouth. Every now and then, I lean forward and caress your cheek, or touch the golden key hanging at my throat. You're not allowed desert.
The waiter comes and you pay the bill, leaving a generous tip. Not that the waiter deserves it - misogynist prick. You stand and graciously come to attend me, pulling out my chair and arranging the shrug on my shoulders. I take your arm and lean into you as we walk to the car. You open the door for me, and when I'm settled, you get in and drive us home. It's not far, but there's time for me to tease you a little...
"What have you been fantasising about lately, baby?" I ask, I want to get your blood flowing a little before we get home.
Besides, I genuinely want to know - what better way to tease and then deny you than by knowing exactly what you want?
We arrive back at my place. You open the door for me and escort me to the living room, before preparing fresh mint tea for me to drink. Once I'm settled, I send you downstairs to the playroom to prepare yourself for me. I write a little, while I'm waiting. I like to write stories about you, it helps me plan our time together. It's a very enjoyable way to talk about what we might like to do together - and reading my stories makes you so horny.
After a while, I come and find you. You know I'm coming, you can here each slow and deliberate footstep on the stairs. Those heels know a thing or two about building anticipation. I walk into the room to find you naked and kneeling for me. Naked that is except for a golden metal cock cage, the one you wear for me on our dates. I call it your dress cage. It's a little roomy. I like making you hard inside it. I like to see your cock bulging and straining for release. I'm a kind Goddess though, I allow you to have a smaller one for daily wear and at night, so that you're not troubled by bothersome erections.