This is a story that is somewhat based on a personal experience. Enjoy!
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I got dressed very carefully for my date this evening. I had been asked to go out for a couple of drinks by the guy in our local pub who ran the quiz night. He had caught my eye as soon as I had gone in yesterday evening, and when his green eyes met mine I had felt as though I had been electrocuted.
All evening I was acutely aware of him, and every so often I felt the intent heat of his gaze fall over my face. When he approached me, he held out his hand and introduced himself. I blushed deeply, shook his hand and told him my name. He held my hand longer than necessary, making me blush hotter. A familiar feeling of arousal stirred in my stomach, and I pushed away the dirty thoughts that suddenly bloomed in my mind's eye. Almost as though he could see the thoughts too, a wicked grin appeared on his face and he let go of my hand to run his fingers through his soft copper hair, pushing it back from his face. My mouth watered.
He sat down opposite me and we talked late into the evening. He told me how he had started his business up from scratch and that he ran the quiz as a way to de-stress at the end of the week. I told him about my studies and how I hoped to receive my qualification next year. At this he had tilted his head to the side and looked me up and down, slowly.
'How old are you, Kitten?' I felt the blush return to my cheeks. Even though I had told him my name, he had only referred to me as Kitten from the moment he sat down. It didn't help that in my deep, dark, sexual fantasies, I was always dominated by a strong man who balanced caring and cruelty as naturally as breathing, who used me for his own desires as well as making sure my needs were met, who referred to me in my best behaved moments as his 'good little Kitten.' Maybe this guy WAS some kind of psychic. I shook my head, remembering that he had asked me a question.
'I'm 22,' I replied, biting my tongue to fight the impulse to add 'Sir'.
'22,' he sighed, and he almost seemed sad. I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. 'I'm afraid you may be too young for me, Kitten. A man of 34 shouldn't take advantage of one so young.'
At this I burst out laughing. He cocked his head to the side again, this time confused. I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle my giggles, and straightened my back as I pushed my laughter down.
'My last boyfriend was 40. Honestly, I think my parents would be thrilled if I were to date someone so much closer to my age.'
The wicked grin re-appeared on his face, and it was my turn to look confused.
'So you'd like to go on a date, would you?' he smirked. Realising what I had said, I flushed deep red again and dropped my head, mortified. He chuckled darkly, and reached out to lift my chin, meeting my eyes.
I felt my desire build at his touch. I inadvertently leaned forward, and his hand moved from my chin to cup my cheek. His eyes roved over me slowly, taking in my new position: my legs were slightly parted, my breasts were pushed up between my arms, my hands were resting flat against my thighs. He let out a noise that I could have sworn was a growl, and returned his darkened eyes to mine.
'When you look at me like that with those beautiful eyes, how could I refuse such a request?' he purred, and gently stroked his thumb over my lower lip. I dug my nails into my thighs to stop myself taking his thumb in my mouth. He noticed, and growled again. He pulled his hand away from me, and I saw the effort that it took him to do so. He closed his eyes briefly and breathed out slowly, and when he opened them again they had returned to their usual light green.
'So, when are you free for a date, Kitten?'
'Tomorrow?' I blurted, then bit my lip at how desperate I had sounded. He laughed lightly, took my hand again and kissed my palm softly.
'It's a date,' he smiled. 'Meet me here at 7pm, OK?'
'OK,' I grinned back.
'Until tomorrow, then.' He stood up and went back to the bar, and engaged in conversation with the landlord.
I waited until I could feel my legs again, then stood and left the pub, forcing myself not to look back. My walk home took much longer than it usually did as I fantasised about him all the way. Images of him stood over me, with his hands in my hair as I knelt at his feet, flooded my mind. I had always dreamed of serving someone, and this might be my chance to experience that. I had no way of knowing whether he was even remotely interested in those things, but something in the way he had looked at me this evening, the way he had controlled his own responses, made me hopeful.
The next day was pure agony, time went by slowly and I couldn't concentrate on any of my usual tasks or assignments. I had to resist the urge to masterbate to images of him controlling me, telling me what to do, me serving him, making him drinks and food, seeing that his sexual needs were met. When I finally got home and changed for the evening, I had to change my underwear too.
For the date I chose a tight fitting black top that dipped low, showing off my breasts. I wore dark blue skinny jeans that hugged my ass and curves, and slid my feet into sandals with low heels - I had noticed our height difference yesterday and wanted to appear a little taller. I finished the look with very light, natural make-up and a thin silver choker necklace. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I wondered if what I wore would please him, and the thought made me moan. I shook my head in an attempt to think straight, and made myself set off out of the house.
As I approached the pub, I noticed him stood outside. He looked incredible, in tight fighting black jeans, a blue button down shirt and black boots. He had a leather biker jacket slung over one shoulder, and under his arm was a motorcycle helmet.
