My First Meal with the Mistress and Her Secret Makeup Bag

The rules were written from the very first message. We met on an app, exchanged a couple of lines and, when we saw we were a match, decided to meet in a public place to see whether there was chemistry between us.

She caught my attention from the start. Anyone who likes one of my posts gets a few minutes of curiosity from me on their profile, but with her it was days. She had no explicit photos, not even of her face, and yet everything was clearly laid out, organized, detailed. That kind of precision is already a good sign in a dominant.

We arranged to have lunch in a bistro in the city center. She sent me the location and a single instruction:

—It’s usually half empty at this time, we’ll have privacy. Don’t be late. I’ll see you there at two.

And nothing more. She didn’t write to me again, not even to confirm she’d read my reply. That confidence in herself left me intrigued. I got to Clock Square twenty minutes early, pacing around to burn off my nerves, which were considerable. When the time came close, I took a deep breath and went in.

I had prepared for the occasion: a long shower, waxing just in case, a simple hairstyle, and just enough makeup to wipe away the face of someone who works nonstop. The clothes were my everyday ones: jeans, a T-shirt, and a light loose sweater over it. Nothing extravagant.

At the entrance I said I was waiting for someone who had made the reservation. She hadn’t arrived yet, but they seated me anyway, at a table in the back, away from the rest. Her request, for sure. I sat down without ordering anything. I wanted to wait for her.

At two-oh-seven, according to my watch, the waitress came back accompanied by a woman who smiled at me and waited for me to stand up. I did so a little awkwardly, sizing her up out of the corner of my eye. She was about five foot seven, neither thin nor fat, with a body that looked as though it had been taken from an old painting. I gave her two kisses, more relaxed than I’d expected to be. I was going to like her. Or at least that’s what I wanted to believe.

When I went to sit down, she pinned me with her gaze and sat down first. Only then could I do the same.

—You don’t have to obey my orders. Yet. —Her voice was a little rough, like someone who smoked or used to smoke a lot.

—Habit, sorry —I said, shrinking a little in the chair.

—Have you looked at the menu yet? Do you know what you want?

I looked back at the menu for the fifth time without deciding. The waitress came over to take our drink order, and she cut in first.

—We know everything already. Two waters, one hamburger and the salmon, thank you. —She handed over the two menus and ran her eyes through me, searching for a hesitation she didn’t find—. I see you haven’t been intimidated. Maybe you need a little help behaving the way a submissive is supposed to.

I looked at her, not understanding. Then she slid a makeup bag across the table to me just as they set down the water.

—Go to the bathroom and touch yourself up a bit. I’m lending you my makeup.

***

I locked myself in a stall and opened the makeup bag. A note covered the contents: “Put everything on and turn it on.” Inside were panties with a dildo attached and a vibrator, a small anal plug topped with a jewel, and nipple clamps with tiny bells. Then I understood: she wasn’t planning to leave. I was going to suffer that meal, or enjoy it, I wasn’t sure which.

I took off my shoes, my pants, and my underwear. It took me a while. I had to prepare myself a little for the dildo to go in properly, even though the situation already had me wet. I put in the plug first, then the rest, everything tightened inward so nothing would move during lunch. I turned it on. I pulled my pants back up and, just as I was about to go out, I remembered the clamps. I hesitated. If I tightened them too much I wouldn’t be able to stand it; if they were too loose, they’d fall off on the way back to the table. I put them on quickly and went out. The bells jingled. I walked slowly the rest of the way.

—That blush looks very good on you —she smiled, taking a sip of water—. I hope you liked everything.

—Yes. I wasn’t expecting it, but yes. Everything.

The food arrived and she started cutting the hamburger and the salmon into two pieces, also dividing the sides onto my plate.

—On your profile you say you don’t mind your dominant controlling your meals. By accepting the little gift from the bathroom, you accepted that today that dominant is me. So you’ll eat what I decide, and we won’t leave until you finish. I’ve got the afternoon free.

I swallowed. I hadn’t expected it all to start so soon.

—I thought we’d take it slower.

I shifted in the seat and the bells rang. She smiled.

—The slow part ended the moment you put everything on. You’re under my command. Start eating. Now.

I speared the salmon and, as soon as I had it in my mouth, the dildo started vibrating. Softly. I let out a breath.

—One bite of each thing, in order. Hamburger, salmon, fries, salad. —I nodded, gradually drifting into another world—. From now on I talk and you listen.

***

She took a tablet out of her bag. She showed it to me from a distance: a very long chart of likes, limits, and doubts that, according to her, we were going to fill in while I ate. I was only allowed to answer yes or no.

—And if you really hesitate about something, you can explain yourself. But don’t overdo it.

So I limited my conversation during the next hour, chewing on an increasingly strange mix of flavors, drinking when she ordered me to, with the vibrator never stopping. The list went on: accessories, collars, rope and chain restraints, forced positions, cages. She listed them and I nodded, discovering with shame that she had studied my profile down to the last detail. Every item she read out was, in fact, a desire I had confessed somewhere online.

—Waxing is important —she said without looking up—. The rest of the body, always bare. Down there I like hair, but short and neat. Do you understand?

—Yes —I hurried to answer.

—Humiliation is the foundation of my relationships. I like getting inside someone’s head, and you like having someone get inside yours. Verbal humiliation? Insults?

—Yes. Yes to both —I murmured, red-faced, as if I had no other color left.

Three times she dropped something on the floor and three times I was the one who bent down to pick it up, feeling everything I had inside, hearing the jingle of the clamps just as people passed by. Every time I thought the rhythm was easing, she turned the vibrator up for five seconds and then lowered it again, keeping me on the edge and denying me everything.

—Is it strong? Let’s turn it down —she said at one point, and the vibration shot up instead of easing. I grabbed the table—. Oops, little mistake.

I leaned back against the chair when she finally brought it back to the lowest setting, relieved, convinced I was going to come in the middle of a restaurant.

—Orgasm control? I shouldn’t even have to ask. It’s mine. —She made a note on the tablet—. I want to make one thing clear: you’re only allowed to masturbate when I say so, and even more limited when it comes to coming. It’s not the same thing.

I nodded. My breathing was fast and I could feel my underwear soaked through.

***

Dessert arrived, some pancakes with fruit, chocolate, and cream that she slid to my side with a smile.

—Cut them into pieces. One piece at a time. There’s still a lot of the list left.

I drank all the water she ordered me to. When I had none left, she took her own glass, took a sip, moved the water around in her mouth, put it back in the glass, and passed it to me.

—Here. I’m done.

I drank it without a word, more aroused than humiliated, which scared me a little. While I chewed the last pieces, the dildo changed rhythm: the tip began moving back and forth.

—There are three pieces left. You’re not leaving them there.

She turned the vibrator up and I couldn’t even hold the fork. She called the waiter, asked for a takeout box for the leftover pieces, and as soon as the guy walked away, she shut everything off at once.

—Ask for the bill.

I moved to pay, but she already had her card out. When I stood up, thinking we were heading for the exit, she stopped me with a hand on my arm.

—The bathroom. Or had you forgotten?

***

She walked in front, setting the pace. I followed behind, horny, disoriented, stuffed to the brim. She pushed the door open, checked that no one was there, and turned toward me. She scanned me with her eyes, lifted her hand, and slapped me across the cheek. It wasn’t hard, but I hadn’t expected it. She grabbed my chin, squeezing my cheeks, and shoved me into a stall.

I let her do as she pleased. At that moment I was completely hers. She unbuttoned my pants, slid her hand inside, and laughed.

—But you’re soaked. I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on your meals than I thought. —She switched off the vibrator and started taking the dildo out—. What do you want?

—To come —I said. Another slap.

—And I was hoping you’d say you wanted to eat my cunt.

I nodded so enthusiastically that she smiled again. She swapped the plug for a larger one, pulled down my soiled panties, and put the dildo in my mouth so I could taste myself. Right then the bathroom door opened and someone came in. She yanked my sweater up and jostled my breasts so the bells wouldn’t stop ringing. It hurt. I moaned and then went quiet again, my eyes screwed shut, until the person left.

—Those poor clamps have been on a long time —she teased—. You take ages to eat.

She brought one nipple to my mouth and sucked it, easing the pain in a wave of pleasure while her other hand did the same. A tear escaped me. I could have come with the slightest further touch. She ordered me to pee, right there in front of her, and the release was so intense that I came without meaning to. Another slap brought me back to the present.

—I didn’t give you permission. Let’s get out before they suspect anything.

I pulled myself together and, when I looked in the mirror, I saw a flushed woman who knew exactly what had just happened during that meal.

***

I followed her expecting a goodbye, but she led me through several streets to a doorway.

—It’s not my place. It’s a dungeon, I rent it by the hour. I came earlier to leave a couple of things, that’s why I was late. I have it until ten.

We went upstairs. The room was ready. She ordered me to undress and I obeyed slowly, feeling small in front of her, my belly swollen from everything I had eaten. She caressed me, squeezed me, put her hand inside me again.

—You’re still soaked, even though you already came. Without permission, by the way.

Next to the bed was a low cage. She took it out, put me on my knees with my chest pressed to my thighs, and locked me inside with a padlock. She secured my hands to the sides, replaced the plug with a larger one attached to a fixed bar, and fitted me with another dildo that would vibrate every three minutes.

—So you don’t fall asleep.

She tied my hair to the cage, leaving my head tilted up toward an opening I hadn’t seen. She put a gag in me, open-faced, with a cover, like a drain stopper, and spit into it.

—Some friends are coming. I’m not going to tell them you’re here, so don’t make a sound. Just in case, I’m leaving you instructions.

She put a blindfold on me, taped a piece of paper to my forehead, and shoved me under the bed. The vibrator started up, subtle but firm. I heard the door close.

***

The minutes passed and the door opened again. Two voices. I did everything I could not to be found, but in a moment of silence the vibrator gave me away.

—I think I found the surprise they promised you.

They dragged me out, tore the paper from my forehead, and read it aloud: a list of what they could and couldn’t do to me, only with my mouth, without removing the blindfold. Things no one should have known on the first day. How else, if not, had she prepared me like this?

—We don’t have much time —one of them said—. Come on, swallow.

And the first time I swallowed with her as my mistress, what I swallowed belonged to someone else. I took it gladly. They ordered me to keep some in my mouth as proof, closed the gag again, and left laughing.

***

The door again. Her laugh. I knew it was her.

—They found you. That means you’re not very quiet. Good to know. —She opened the gag—. They left me an appetizer. Swallow it.

I did, in two goes, with a strange taste I couldn’t wipe away through the opening of the gag.

—I like you. Maybe I’ll keep you. —She opened the padlock, took off the dildo and the plug, and helped me out, my stiff joints cracking—. Kneel. Hands on your thighs. Chest out.

She took me to the bathroom and started gently, with a series of enemas that left me on the edge, my belly tense like a pregnant woman’s. When she had finally emptied me and I felt better, I watched her undress slowly. If I could have opened my mouth wider, I would have.

She swapped the gag for another one with a dildo sticking out. I knew what was coming. She tied my hands behind my back and made me suck her until she came, fast, without bothering to hide it. Then she turned me over, cleaned the dildo on my wet face, and fucked me with the same firmness. I loved it. I savored it. And I asked her permission to come.

She took her time giving it. But she gave it. And I came after wanting it for so long, with the absolute certainty that I would see her again.

And this was, in case there was any doubt, the first time I met her.