1.They had chatted, online and on the phone, for weeks before he drove upstate. He liked her wit, her intelligence, and her thoughtful ideas on her life as a naturally dominant woman. She liked their compatibility in other ways, and his willingness to explore new sides of himself. He had been driving for hours now, with a stop at the highway rest area, his mind racing with new ideas but no scene mapped out, just a first meeting, and his hopefulness.
They met as planned, at a country inn restaurant known for its new and adventurous chef and an interesting menu. As they talked about the menu, he mentioned his choice of chicken or beef, without green vegetables, and she ordered fish for both of them, reaching across to feed him Brussels sprouts which he took as she fed him. The food was delicious, and the late afternoon crowd had dwindled as the ordered coffee. He was surprised when after a wide ranging conversation she smiled slightly and reached into her purse, handing him a drugstore pill bottle with no label. He smiled back lightly, taking the amber plastic bottle with a questioning look.
"David, you have a lot of interests, and you talk a good game-but as a real submissive this is where it begins, if you want it- something real, not some online scene. Fill it now." He looked back, his mind forming a question. "It should be obvious, take this container, fill it with your cum, for me, just because I asked. Go to the restroom, you have five minutes before I leave you here." She was still smiling lightly, but with a hard edge visible in her gray eyes now.
He felt his face heat as he flushed, the small bottle in his hand, leaning across the lunch table. He started to speak, then caught himself, and awkwardly slid his chair back. He felt her gaze as he went across the room and down the hall. In the small men's room, he was alone, feeling like a foolish teenager. Her request was ridiculous and humiliating too, but he found himself hardening as he thought about it. With a sharp breath, he slid his pants down and began, keeping a visual image as he pumped himself, trying to get past the feeling of strangeness, suddenly spurting into the small container as he imagined his new role.
When he returned to the table, the dining room had almost emptied, and he handed her the still-warm bottle he had carefully capped, a specimen of his real submission. He tried to meet her gaze as he sat; embarrassed that she now knew the depth of his feelings and his need. She had ordered coffee and the check while he was gone, and she reached across the table to uncap the bottle and pour the milky fluid into his coffee, where it swirled on the surface. "You need to finish the coffee now, David, so we can get going." He looked, still with nothing to say, and took the cup, tasting the bitter musky flavor as he drank it and felt it coat his lips and tongue.
2.It was cold as they stepped outside, pulling their coats around them. She took the car key from his hand and led him to her car, a steel gray German sedan, and opened the door for him to slide in. "Your car will be alright here, leave it." She stopped at the trunk as she came around the car, and as she got in handed him a small bag. "Here, put these on now." He found a pair of well-worn leather cuffs in the bag, dark leather with rings and buckles, and awkwardly fitted them to his wrists as she started the car and adjusted the heat. She pointed to the headrest, and he realized his hands had to go up and behind it, where she linked the cuffs together. She smiled a little as she reached across his body to fasten his seat belt, then reached back to open his shirt and trace his nipple with her fingernails. As she drove the country roads in the darkening afternoon, from time to time she reached to touch him but said nothing. He thought about his new role, cuffed and restrained, just accepting it.
3.When they stopped, it was in the gravel drive of a large Victorian house set off by itself in a small crossroads town, well back from the road. It was white and gray, with tall Italianate windows and a porch, and a barn-like garage in the yard behind it. A small wooden plaque next to the door said "Whitehall", which could have been a name or a place. It was late fall, with few leaves left on the trees and shrubs, and a dusting of snow on the ground. She opened the door and laughed "Stay here" as she got out and went to the house. He was left sitting, arms aching now behind him, feeling the car get colder as the engine ticked. She came back, to open his door, and unclip the cuffs, taking his arm as she helped him up out of the car. She led him to the rear porch, into a small vestibule with large windows and a cheerful collection of houseplants.
She was very matter-of-fact. "David, put your coat on the hook there, takes off everything else, and folds your things on the shelf by the door. Keep the cuffs on, and put on the things you will find in the drawer under the plant shelf. Then come into the kitchen." She went off into the house, leaving him with the awkward feeling of undressing in someone else's house, in this unromantic way. He still had not said anything, not even sure how she wanted him to address her now. He slipped off the coat, and then his shirt, shoes, pants, everything- standing in front of the large window, seeing himself reflected in it, naked and still cuffed. What he found in the drawer made him pause.
The plastic shell device he realized was a sort of penis cage, fitting around him and keeping his cock curved, clearly painful if he hardened. He felt it snap closed and latch, as he dressed in the other items, a pair of low cut nylon lace panties, dusty rose, and high heeled mules, in cheap sparkly plastic. When he stepped into the kitchen, she laughed and his face got hot. "Perfect, David, just what I need here, a house slave. The first thing you need to do here is clean up."
