Wrestled Into Submission

Erica Marshall was in town for three days.

It was just supposed to have been another stop on the road for the professional wrestler. Just another city, another crowd of screaming fans, another opponent, another match...

But then she had seen him sitting by himself on a bench. She had been out for a walk after lunch, preparing to head back to her hotel room and rest up before that night's show, when she suddenly realized he was watching her. Looking over his shoulder, he didn't even seem to notice her staring directly at him, not really paying attention as she passed by.

She had kept walking, but she found herself glancing behind her every few seconds. The man was still there when she got to the end of the next block, so she turned around and walked past him again. He gave no sign that he had noticed her either way this time.

After circling past him twice more, she finally stopped in front of him. "Can I help you? Is something wrong?"

"Oh!" His eyes moved rapidly between hers, the ground, hers again. "No. No ma'am."

Something about him fascinated her. Maybe it was his posture: shoulders hunched slightly forward, avoiding eye contact, a general air of submission that was somehow both humble yet desperate for approval. Or perhaps it was his clothing: loose fitting jeans and an unremarkable black polo shirt, the collar buttoned tight. It looked like what one would wear to work in an office. And yet it was Sunday afternoon.

She decided to try a different tack. "Well, I'm sure there are some other parks around here that don't get much traffic. You shouldn't let me bother you." She started to turn away from him, trying to sound dismissive, but hoping he might react differently.

To her delight, he stood quickly. "I didn't mean to disturb. I apologize if I did." His voice was soft, and she could tell from the tremor in it that he was nervous.

He seemed to realize how anxious he appeared, because he took a deep breath through his nose to steady himself. Then he smiled slightly, clearly determined not to let a brief encounter ruin his day. "My name's Ben, actually. I was just enjoying some sunshine before heading home to take care of some laundry."

His attempt to sound cheerful made Erica want to see whether she could knock him down again with a single word, just to watch him squirm. "Well," she said casually, "my name is Erica Marshall. I guess we're neighbors for now since I'm staying at the Marriott."

The effect of her name dropping was immediate and remarkable. First his jaw dropped open; then he stammered out a weak apology, "oh sorry." But he recovered almost immediately. Before Erica knew what she wanted to do next, the words were already coming out of her mouth.

"Maybe you could show me around the neighborhood sometime -- if your schedule isn't too busy with housework, that is."

What was she doing? It wasn't often these days that Erica met someone new outside the business. As soon as he saw who she was, he probably expected her to ask him to dinner at a fancy steakhouse and then take selfies of them together while they drank champagne. Was that what she wanted, though? That kind of thing was fine with her manager, and it certainly helped promote her brand. But she was tired of being that person, especially when she wasn't working. If anything, she wanted to find the exact opposite of that life tonight.

As she explained to Ben why exactly he needed to meet her back at the park in two hours (and yes, it would involve dinner), he seemed increasingly confused. He asked her several times what she meant by all this. When they parted ways, he was clearly worried that she wouldn't show up later, but promised to wait anyway.

Back at the hotel, Erica couldn't concentrate on reviewing her match strategy or going over her pre-match ritual. This entire conversation had come completely out of left field for her. In fact, it felt amazingly refreshing to be caught off guard for once. After she spent the first hour pacing around her room, unable to focus on anything else until she confirmed that he hadn't emailed or texted her anything (he hadn't), she finally gave in and decided to embrace the adventurous feeling that had seized her earlier.

With only minutes before she needed to leave, she hastily scribbled instructions on a piece of paper she pulled from the stationery drawer and stuffed it into her pocket along with her phone and credit card.

When Ben saw Erica approach across the grass, he tried to stand up straight and look less awkward than the last time he had seen her. Still, she greeted him sitting on the bench where she had found him three hours before.

Her plan had come together quickly. She wanted him to drive her somewhere -- she wasn't entirely sure where yet -- so she had called her assistant and told him to bring her car to their original rendezvous spot after the show. For now, she simply wanted to sit quietly with Ben for a minute and study his reaction to everything.

Finally, she broke the silence herself. "You know, Benjamin, I am pretty famous in my line of work. Do you have any idea who I am?"

Still looking down and avoiding direct eye contact, he muttered, "yeah, I've heard of you." His tone suggested that maybe people hearing that response usually followed it up with something uncomfortable or embarrassing, but Erica wasn't done studying his behavior yet.

She nodded approvingly. "Good. You can call me Mistress from now on."

Before continuing, she paused a few seconds to savor his confusion and uncertainty. It was fun watching him try to decide whether to continue responding respectfully or ask clarifying questions.

Then she pulled the note from her pocket and handed it to him. "This has instructions on how to serve me for the rest of today. Are you ready to start?"

A look of shock crossed his face before he answered, "yes Mistress." The moment the words came out of his mouth, however, he realized he had spoken without being directed, and he started fumbling through possible corrections.

Erica held up one hand to stop him. "Just keep reading, Benjamin. We'll see what happens when you finish."

Most of the note described the restaurant she had selected: its location, parking details, and even how to order. At the bottom was a list of rules for how to behave throughout the evening. They wouldn't have been terribly unusual for someone who knew the protocols of BDSM. However, she also wrote in several specific expectations for Benjamin: no eye contact unless given permission; always refer to himself in the third person and her in the second person; never speak without direction, and so on.

By the time he got to the end, his hands were shaking noticeably, which delighted Erica. She loved the power trip she got during matches when fans cheered wildly, but it rarely happened to such a satisfying extent in her personal interactions. Watching him struggle with basic tasks like holding onto a piece of paper excited her more than she wanted to admit.

Once he finished, she took the slip of paper back from him. He looked relieved, thinking his ordeal might be complete.

However, Erica noticed something important about his body language that intrigued her. Even though he trembled with nervous energy, he didn't run away. Instead, he waited hopefully for what might happen next. That sparkle of desire made her realize she could go further than she originally planned.

"Benjamin," she said softly. When he failed to answer, she repeated herself louder. "Look at me, Benjamin!" This time, he forced himself to comply slowly and stared directly at her feet as instructed. "I think you want to follow my orders because you know deep down that it will make you happy to do so."

His eyes darted between hers and the paper she still gripped tightly in one hand, then returned to the ground. His head hung low. Finally, he spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Mistress."

---

The restaurant was called The Alembic. Located in Chicago's financial district near the Board of Trade Building, it had a minimalist design esthetic with clean lines and sparse decorations. Despite its simplicity, though, the atmosphere managed to exude luxury and sophistication.

As they sat at a table near the front window, Erica smiled slightly at Benjamin's attempts to maintain polite small talk. Every now and again he would glance around the room, clearly hoping to catch sight of something familiar that might help fill the silences. Whenever he did so, she felt a thrill of satisfaction knowing that he was anxious about pleasing her and eager to impress.

"So, Benjamin, tell me something interesting," she began. "Why is this restaurant named 'alembic?'"

He tried not to let his relief at an easy question show too much. Clearly wanting to prove that he knew things other than wrestling moves, he launched into an explanation. "It comes from alchemy. The word describes a type of vessel that could change matter -- turn metals into gold and stuff like that. Alchemists used them when searching for ways to achieve immortality by ingesting certain elixirs."

If he thought that showing off his knowledge of obscure trivia might win favor, she wanted to see just how far he would take it.

"Wow," she replied noncommittally. "How fascinating. So I guess the food here makes you live forever if you eat enough of it?"

He hesitated for a moment, looking unsure of himself again. "Well, no... But the idea behind the place is that eating good food can give us experiences that are better than anything we've ever had before."

She laughed. "Oh, well then maybe that's why I picked this place! After tonight, maybe we won't even remember our names anymore once we have experienced the perfect meal!" She giggled at his expense until she caught his expression.

Clearly, he wasn't sure whether to join in or continue trying to impress her. It seemed unlikely that his strategy of appearing smart would succeed anytime soon, so maybe another approach might work better.

When their server approached the table after taking their drink orders, Erica leaned forward conspiratorially. "Ben, there's something fun we should try."

Her sudden shift to a less formal address startled him. "Um, yes ma'am?" It appeared that her choice of words threw him completely off kilter.

Erica grinned at his uncertainty. "Let's play a game. Since you already know who I am..." she paused for effect, watching his face carefully for signs of recognition. "...I will tell you what kind of food I'd like to order. When the waiter returns, you've got to order for the both of us only your best imitation of my voice. If you manage to fool them, then you get to decide where we go afterward."

He looked visibly worried, and his mouth dropped open slightly. However, before she could push him harder, he finally managed to recover enough to respond. "But I don't think anyone will believe me! You're famous, right?"

She smirked. "That's part of the challenge. Do you accept?" He nodded tentatively, waiting for what came next. She continued. "Good! Then pay attention: I'll be ordering the mushroom carpaccio with black garlic aioli to start. Got it?"

Ben nodded quickly, repeating back her selection under his breath to commit it to memory.

A few minutes later, their server arrived to present the evening's specials. Without missing a beat, Ben turned to the young man and asked politely in a flawless imitation of Erica's confident tone, "We'll begin with the mushroom carpaccio with black garlic aioli, please." The waiter appeared confused, but took down the order nonetheless. As he walked away, Erica couldn't stop herself from bursting out laughing. Not only had Ben nailed her inflection perfectly, he also sounded completely natural as he placed their appetizer.

After several more courses, during which Benjamin successfully mimicked every one of Erica's dish choices without fail, their conversation moved on to other topics. By then Benjamin seemed somewhat more comfortable speaking freely. Still, he never quite lost the look in his eyes that suggested anxiety over doing something wrong at any moment. That hint of desperation kept Erica engaged throughout dinner despite herself.

Finally, when they finished dessert, Benjamin spoke up again nervously. "M-ma'am, you said I won because nobody noticed my impression earlier... So may I ask where we're going next?"

"You'll find out very soon, Ben," she answered simply, standing slowly from her chair as the server approached with their bill. "But first, you're going to pay for our dinner." Ben gulped audibly, reaching for his wallet before handing over his credit card with trembling hands.

As they left together through the revolving door, Erica couldn't help thinking that this night might actually turn out exactly as planned. She hadn't expected such a compelling submissive to cross her path while passing through Chicago; however, now that he had found her, she wasn't about to let him slip away so easily. In fact, as she led him back toward the park, she wondered whether his training might be more enjoyable than she originally thought.

---

The door to her hotel room clicked open. Benjamin stood behind Erica, waiting silently for instructions. She beckoned silently for him to enter.

Once inside, she pointed towards a spot near her bed. "Strip, Benjamin, and kneel here." Her voice acquired a sternness it hadn't had before.

He hesitated briefly before removing his clothes and placing them neatly on the floor. Once fully nude except for socks and shoes, he knelt as directed without looking up or moving once settled into position.

Erica watched him closely for several seconds. His posture was good -- back straight, legs spread just wide enough apart to expose himself fully. Satisfied, she removed her own clothing piece by piece and tossed each garment onto the armchair in the corner. Finally naked, she stood in front of her suitcase and retrieved the items she had packed before leaving for the restaurant.

First, she buckled the leather spider gag onto his head, securing it tightly to hold his jaw shut between four leathery projections. Next, she clipped metal handcuffs to each wrist before fastening them loosely around the metal frame of her bed to keep him pinned in place.

Then, without another word, she stepped forward to straddle Benjamin's face and lowered her dripping pussy onto his mouth.

For the next forty five minutes, Erica sat scrolling through her phone while Benjamin dutifully lapped at her cunt. Despite her best efforts not to make noise, she felt two separate orgasms build within her until waves of pleasure radiated throughout her whole body. Each time, she fought hard to stay silent as her hips shook involuntarily against him. Only once she had recovered some composure did she finally slide off his face and remove the gag.

Before he could recover enough to stand, she grabbed the riding crop she had brought along. She used its long shaft like a cane to guide his body into various positions before striking him lightly with the leather end. Then, she attached cuffs around both ankles and wrists before tying them securely to the footboard of the bed.

She climbed onto his chest facing his feet so that her dripping crotch rubbed against his forehead. Looking down past her breasts, she saw him straining unsuccessfully not to stare directly at her, and smiled as his cheeks began turning redder under her gaze.

Next, she leaned over to press her wet armpit into his lips. As soon as she felt him tentatively begin sucking, she wrapped one leg around his neck so that he had no choice but to continue licking her. His nose tickled against sensitive skin beneath her raised bicep as he continued cleaning every trace of perspiration from her flesh.

By this point Benjamin seemed exhausted, but Erica didn't relent in her torment of him. Instead, she retrieved the Hitachi wand from her bag and used it to bring herself to orgasm a third time while watching carefully to see how he reacted. His eyes remained locked on her crotch as she came, never wavering despite her moans of pleasure.

Finally, she slid off his chest and placed the vibrating head of the Hitachi against the head of his cock. Pressing firmly, she held it there as he began to moan loudly and thrash against the restraints holding his limbs in place. He made noises she had never heard any man make before, and she reveled in knowing that she had pushed him past all previous limits tonight. Presently, he shot ropes of come across his stomach, and she kept the pressure steady until they were spent.

As his breathing slowed, she released the tension on the handcuffs binding him to the bed. Soon afterward, he fell asleep still bound and naked. Without even bothering to cover herself first, she crawled underneath the comforter and passed out almost immediately.