Saying a story is true is a tricky concept, but this is how I recall that evening about twenty years ago, now. Some parts I remember vividly, while others I admit I'm probably filling in details or idealizing after the fact, maybe even romanticizing a bit.
I was about twenty-six or twenty seven. I joke these days to friends that when I'm trying to remember when various events happened, I organize them in my life according to which ex I was with at the time. This was already my second by that age, Virginia. She was a curly redhead who came from an old money family; very sophisticated, cultured and well educated, which I enjoyed a lot when I was younger, coming from a bit of a cultural backwater, myself. She was also curvy with porcelain skin and nice shapely legs. I've always been a leg man, and all that along with liking red hair probably helped me ignore that she enjoyed various substances a bit too much.
We were going to a dinner party. The others that would be there were in some vague area between casual acquaintances and proper friends. I don't want to go off on some distracting tangent on how I knew them or why the get together was happening. Suffice to say the grouping was predicated on certain mutual esoteric and philosophical interests, social but nothing overtly sexual.
I enjoyed the company a lot, though, and found each of the half dozen other individuals we'd be joining quite stimulating, interesting people. So, I wanted to make an impression, especially since Virginia and I were rather significantly younger than the others. I not only dressed as sharply as I could, in a smartly creased black suit; I think the first not-off-the-rack one I ever owned, actually, if I recall properly. But I wore it now with a turtleneck instead of a button up shirt.
But I also dressed Virginia to show her off, too, as I had noticed the other men glancing her up several times when we had gathered in the past.
Is that shocking? That I'd use my significant other like a piece of meat for bait? She loved it at least as much as I did. First, yes, I meant I dressed her in a literal way. That was one of the games we enjoyed. By that time I was already very into domination and submission of various sorts. Virginia and I weren't really in the sort of formally Master-slave arrangement that would become more common later, but keep in mind this was before the Internet really popularized such usually private and taboo subculture things. I think the taboo stuff was more fun before it became popular and common, actually, but I digress. We both still adored power exchange and had a strong dynamic that always went that way, and she loved being subby. So, I would send her to shower and fix her hair and make-up as I dressed and picked out her clothes. Then she would come out and I would physically put the clothes on her before we went out. I enjoyed doing things like that, that would keep her on a low simmer of arousal most of the time.
That was always my biggest thrill as a dominant. I wanted to feel I had more control over her mental and emotional state than she did.
Presently when she came out of the bathroom, a towel hugged tightly around her. That was one of the tells, along with that tense bunching of her shoulders, the sheepish angle of her neck and the shy cut of her eyes, that this game of ours was already getting to her; this was not her usual demeanor and I adored it, smiling crookedly to her from where I sat on the edge of the bed as she approached.
