He'd never been to a dinner at a fancy restaurant before, and when he looked up the restaurant online, it seemed like it was a pretty fancy place indeed. Not quite tuxedo-only, but not the kind of place where people would go in jeans and sneakers, so he ended up buying some nice clothes for their first date. He really had no idea how to dress up or what constituted appropriate attire, so he just made his best guess. He hoped it would be pleasing for her. A part of him realised how ridiculous it was that he was buying dress clothes for a first date with a woman he barely knew, but he was nervous enough about the whole thing that anxiety and self-doubt overrode whatever rational sense he could try to muster regarding the matter. It was more important to please her than to risk upsetting her. He remembered how suddenly she'd gotten upset when he hesitated in the park yesterday, and he wanted to avoid doing that again at any cost.
He showed up on time, but she wasn't there. For a moment, he had a terrible thought that it had all been a joke, that she'd told him to meet her here just so she could stand him up as a way of making him feel weak and stupid, and so it was with a flood of relief that he finally saw her walking toward him a few minutes later. She was maybe five minutes late, because it had been important for her to be able to observe him as he waited for her, for her to be able to see him without seeing her, so that she could prepare to be in control of the events of the evening.
She offered him a radiant smile as she walked up. "I'm sorry I'm late," she said in the most honey-sweet voice he'd ever heard. Except that he barely heard it, barely even registered her words, because in front of him was Liz wearing a cleavage-baring dress that brought his attention to her abundant assets in a way that he hadn't seen before.
In truth, Liz was not a large-breasted woman; she was average at most, but she would never have admitted it to anyone, certainly not to Roger. Liz knew as well as anyone that when it comes to manipulating men, breasts are power, and that a man will readily do things for a large-breasted woman that he would never do for anyone else. It was for this reason that she had combined the low-cut dress with a padded push-up bra hidden underneath. It was a simple trick, and one which many women didn't like because it was fake, but for Liz, it was important to maintain the upper hand, and that meant ensuring that Roger understood that she was above him in every way. Just as she convinced him that his penis was small, she would convince him that her breasts were large. Of course, if they ever got into a situation where she'd have to take her bra off, the illusion would be shattered, but this was not a concern for two reasons. First of all, she had no intention of taking it off any time soon, and if things went well, she might never have to do so in his presence, since it would be easy to deny him the privilege of seeing her undressed. Secondly, even if she ever did decide to allow him to see her nude, the illusion that her breasts were huge would by then be so thoroughly implanted into his mind that he would still believe they were large upon seeing them, no matter what his eyes told him, just as she would gradually convince him that his penis was weak and inadequate no matter how much pleasure she received from it.
It took only one look for Liz to know that it was working. Roger was not the kind of guy to stare; he had been taught well enough to understand that it was impolite to stare at a woman's breasts, but even so, he couldn't stop himself from letting his gaze stare at them a little too long, more than long enough for Liz to notice how he reacted. She knew that the effect would be exactly what she wanted: her breasts would hypnotize Roger, making sure that his attention was so thoroughly distracted that she could speak to him without him thinking about what she was saying, allowing her to plant thoughts directly into his mind without the risk of him rationally thinking about them. Things were off to a good start.
"It's okay," Roger said after a moment in response to her apology for being late. "I mean, I don't mind," he gasped in a voice that was more an exhalation than a vocalization.
"Of course you don't mind," she said with a giggle. "You don't mind anything that I do. You'll let me do anything I want." And then, after a moment, her face suddenly became very stern again. "Won't you, Roger?"
She asked the question with such a sudden harsh tone that Roger actually stepped back and put up his hands, as if to defend himself. "Of course, of course," he babbled. "You can do whatever you want. I won't mind."
"It's not just that you don't mind," she said slowly, as if to make sure that he could understand her words. "You
want
me to do whatever I want. It's important to you that I get whatever I want, and that I'm allowed to do whatever I want, and that you'll help me to get what I want and do what I want." After a pause in which Roger stared at her in dumb silence, she asked pointedly: "Won't you?"
"Yes, yes, of c-course," Roger said, stammering.
"Good, I'm glad. That makes me happy," she said with another brilliant smile. "You like making me happy, don't you, Roger?"
"Of course, Liz," he said, nodding with agreement.
"Then tell me," she said quietly.
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me what you like doing," she said with a playful smirk.
"Um... I like making you happy."
"Tell me that you'll do anything to allow me to get what I want."
"Um... I will do anything to allow you to get what you want," he repeated. She could tell by the way his eyes were still on her breasts that he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. Good. Everything was going according to plan.
"Let's go inside, shall we?" she said, motioning with her head toward the restaurant.
"Yes, okay," Roger agreed, walking to the door and opening it.
As Roger began to step inside, Liz suddenly barked out: "
STOP!
" Roger, in some alarm, let go of the door and turned back to look at her.
"What kind of a gentleman are you?" she asked him with a hint of anger in her voice. "You're taking a lady out to dinner and going in before her? You're supposed to hold the door open for a lady, you subhuman male."
She saw that he was actually shaking now. A combination of fear, anxiety, confusion, and something else was taking hold of him and causing him to tremble visibly. That was a very good sign. "I'm sorry," he blurted, opening the door again and stepping aside to allow her to enter.
"That's better," she said. "Make sure you don't make this same mistake again. I won't be so forgiving next time." Without waiting for an answer, she went inside, allowing him to trail after her.
It was one of those restaurants where the dishes were too fancy for someone like Roger to even recognize them. Various names, many of them French, most somehow foreign in origin, stood on the menu, and Roger had no idea what most of them were. He mentioned this to Liz, who offered to order for him, which he readily agreed to. She smiled in appreciation, took his menu from him, and when the waiter came, she ordered for both of them. Roger didn't even recognize what the food was when it arrived, but it was good, so he ate without complaint.
About half-way through the meal, she asked him suddenly: "Roger, my dear, I need to go to the bathroom for a moment. Could you please find it for me?"
