My First Submission Began in a Fitting Room

I came home utterly exhausted almost every day. I worked in a cheap clothing store inside a huge shopping mall, and every shift was the same: empty racks, garments strewn across the floor, fitting rooms left a wreck, and customers demanding miracles with fake smiles. I arrived with my head burning and my body tense, as if I needed someone to squeeze me exactly where it hurt.

That was why, as soon as I closed my bedroom door, I stopped pretending I was a normal girl. I stripped, looked at myself in the mirror, and brought out what truly calmed me: a pair of clamps, a small plug, and the absurd need to feel pain in order to come. I didn’t know where it came from, but the sting in my nipples, the pressure in my ass, and the pinches on my thighs made me so wet that sometimes I came in less than ten minutes, panting, legs spread and face burning with shame and pleasure.

I lived alone most of the time, although I shared an apartment with a friend who spent more nights away than at home. That freedom had made me an expert at hiding my habits. No one suspected anything when they saw me: a blonde with soft features, a fit body, a firm ass, and the face of someone who had never done anything truly dirty. And I encouraged that image because it suited me. Inside, though, I had spent months fantasizing about submission, humiliation, and orders whispered in my ear by someone who knew exactly how to handle me.

That Tuesday I had woken up soaked. I didn’t even remember the dream, only the feeling that I had been on the verge of something incredibly intense. I slipped my hand between my legs while still half-asleep and found my pussy hot, swollen, needy. I started slowly, barely brushing my clitoris with two fingers, gathering my own wetness to spread it more effectively. Then I opened the drawer, took out an old belt and a thick dildo that still intimidated me every time I saw it.

I positioned myself against the headboard, slipped the belt around my neck, and pulled with one hand while guiding the toy’s tip toward my entrance with the other. The combination drove me crazy: the pressure on my throat, my pussy forced open, my ass still occupied by the plug from the night before. I pushed slowly, feeling the burn of its width entering inch by inch, and my legs trembled from pure arousal. When I finally had it buried all the way inside, I began fucking myself with clumsy, desperate thrusts, stifling moans while loosening and tightening the belt.

I came quickly and hard, my thighs rigid and my vision blurred. The orgasm shook my entire belly, and I lay there for a few seconds, breathing with my mouth open, my pussy throbbing around the dildo. Then I showered, got myself just presentable enough, and went to work with the feeling that I had emptied myself out, as though nothing special was going to happen that day.

I was wrong.

The first few hours were quiet. Few customers, some tidying, and routine questions about sizes that weren’t where they were supposed to be. In the middle of the afternoon, I saw a woman walk in who stood out simply by the way she moved. She wasn’t flashy or showing anything off, but she had the kind of stark confidence that forced people to look. She wore black leggings, heavy boots, a short white T-shirt, and carried a jacket in one hand. Her dark hair was tied in a high ponytail, leaving her neck bare. And on that neck I saw what made me swallow hard: a wide black leather collar with metal rings at the front.

It wasn’t just any accessory. I knew exactly what it was. I had seen it hundreds of times in photos, videos, and forums I visited at dawn with my heart racing. I tried not to stare, but I looked again. And she noticed.

—Hi —I said, approaching her in my best professional tone—. If you need help with a size, tell me and I’ll find it for you.

She held my gaze with a calm half-smile.

—Yes. I need a specific size in these two pairs of pants. This place is a mess.

—I know. People rummage through everything, and then we have to guess where each thing ended up.

I went to the small stockroom, searched around, and found one of the two styles. When I came back and handed it to her, my eyes went to the collar again. She lowered her gaze for a second, as though following the path of mine, and gave me a clearer smile.

—You like it, don’t you?

I felt heat rush into my face.

—What?

—The collar. You looked at it twice. The second time, you nearly undressed it with your eyes.

—Sorry. It’s just… it caught my attention.

—Do you know what it’s for?

I could have lied better, but my nerves made me sound clumsy.

—More or less. Something to do with submission, I suppose.

—Don’t suppose. You know. —She said it without harshness, but with a certainty that left me standing still—. And no, it isn’t mine. I wear it to detect looks like yours.

My mouth went dry. I had to wet my lips before speaking.

—I don’t know whether that’s good or bad.

—That depends on whether you like obeying or only fantasizing about it.

My pussy reacted before my mind did. A pulse of wetness passed through my crotch inside my uniform pants. She saw it in my face; I don’t know how, but she did. Then she took my hand. Nothing aggressive. Just her fingers closing around mine firmly and calmly. It was ridiculous how quickly that gesture soothed me.

—Relax —she said—. I’m not going to eat you alive in the middle of the store. My name is Vera.

I told her my name. She watched me for a few more seconds, as if measuring how far she could push without breaking anything.

—My partner and I are involved in that scene. If you’re genuinely interested and it isn’t just an act, we could talk.

I didn’t have my phone on me, so I dictated my number. I did it with unbearable embarrassment and, at the same time, with the exact feeling of stepping into the place I had wanted to enter for months. Before going to pay, she lifted the pants she was holding and said:

—I’m going to try these on. Come with me and tell me how they look.

I followed her to the fitting rooms with my heart pounding in my throat.

***

She chose the last cubicle, the most secluded one. At that hour there was hardly anyone around, and the store music was playing softly. She went inside, left the curtain half-drawn, and began undressing without any theatrics, as if I weren’t a nervous employee but someone she had already tested before. She took off her boots, lowered her leggings, and was left in a black thong that disappeared between her firm buttocks.

I tried to look away, but it was impossible. I was fascinated by the control with which she moved. She didn’t need to reveal anything more to dominate me.

The new pants fell at her feet far too conveniently to have been an accident.

—Would you pass them to me? —she asked.

I bent down to pick them up. As I was straightening, I felt her hand on my shoulder.

—Stay like that.

I obeyed without thinking. She placed two fingers in my hair, right at the nape of my neck, and tilted my head slightly upward. My face was at exactly the level of her pubis, covered by the thong. I could smell her. It wasn’t my imagination: she smelled like an aroused woman, like real heat, like a wet pussy behind thin fabric.

—Look at me —she ordered.

I did. From below. Feeling small in a way that aroused me instantly.

Her hand tightened a little in my hair and brought my forehead toward her crotch until my skin brushed the fabric. Then she gave the smallest tug, just enough to press my mouth against the thong. My breathing became clumsy. I felt my own wetness running between my legs. If she had told me to stick out my tongue, I would have.

But she didn’t. She let go abruptly and held out the pants.

—Now. Give them to me.

I stood up so dazed that I nearly stumbled. She smiled when she saw my face.

—You liked it.

—Yes —I admitted, too weak to pretend.

—We’ll see how much you like obeying for real.

She tried on the pants, came out, paid, and left. I finished my shift soaked, unable to concentrate. As soon as I got home, I found her messages. She had been direct without being vulgar: she had enjoyed meeting me, wanted to see me with her partner, and promised to treat me well if I knew how to listen.

That night I masturbated thinking about her hand in my hair. Only that. My mouth pressed against another woman’s wet fabric without having tasted anything yet. I came with two fingers inside me and my thumb pressing my clitoris, imagining her watching me from the doorway and deciding whether I deserved to continue.

I agreed to have breakfast with them that weekend.

***

We met at one of those brunch places that looked far too beautiful to serve ordinary coffee. I arrived on time and saw them waiting outside. Vera was just as self-assured as she had been in the store. Beside her, her partner made an impression in a different way: tall, strong, broad-shouldered, with a serious calm that didn’t need a raised voice to make itself felt. He introduced himself as Bruno.

We went in, ordered, and at first the conversation was so normal that it almost threw me off. We talked about work, schedules, the city, trivial things. They were pleasant and completely natural. That lowered my guard more than it should have.

Vera was the one who broke through the facade.

—So, did you leave wanting more the other day?

The question struck me between the legs. I glanced at Bruno for a second. He didn’t look away.

—Yes —I said—. I got home and masturbated thinking about you.

Vera gave a low laugh. Bruno raised one eyebrow slightly, interested.

—Good —he said—. At least you don’t waste our time pretending to be perfectly innocent.

—I’m inexperienced, not a liar.

—Even better.

Vera rested her elbows on the table.

—If you continue with us, you’re going to learn two things from the start. First, submission isn’t about posing or saying yes to everything because you’re horny. Second, obedience is proven.

I nodded. I could feel my pulse in my throat.

—Are you willing to obey a simple order right here? —she asked.

I looked around. People having breakfast, waiters, soft music. The question soaked me instantly.

—Yes.

—Then come with me to the bathroom. And don’t question anything.

I got up behind her, my legs trembling.

***

We entered a spacious stall and she locked the door. The air smelled of soap and cheap air freshener, but to me it seemed like the most charged place in the world. Vera turned toward me and held my gaze until I lowered my eyes on my own.

—Squat —she ordered.

I obeyed. My breathing had already gone ragged before she touched a button on her pants.

—Don’t answer me in long sentences unless I ask you to. Yes or no. Understood?

—Yes.

She lowered her underwear and grabbed me by the hair with a sharp gesture, bringing my face to her pussy. It was glistening, opened by desire, hot even before I touched it. My first breath of her scent made me moan involuntarily.

—So this is what you wanted in the fitting room —she murmured—. Then earn it with your mouth. Have you ever eaten pussy?

—No.

—It shows. Learn quickly.

She pressed my head against her and I awkwardly stuck out my tongue, first making an uncertain stroke from bottom to top, gathering her wetness. The taste hit me full-on: salty, intimate, thick. I licked again, firmer this time, spreading my tongue over her lips and moving up to her clitoris. Vera responded immediately with a restrained moan that aroused me even more.

—Don’t suck as if you’re kissing. Lick. Put your tongue inside. Get dirty.

I did as she said. I opened her pussy better with my mouth and tongue, going in a little, pulling out, then rising to her clitoris again to make faster circles. She braced one hand against the wall while gripping my hair tightly with the other, setting the rhythm with small tugs. The more I felt her wetness soaking my face, the more turned on I became. My pussy throbbed between my legs, begging for friction, but I didn’t dare touch myself.

—That’s it. Keep going, slut —she said through her teeth—. I want to come in your mouth and on your face. Don’t stop.

The word went through me like a shock. Slut. Said like that, using me. I moaned against her pussy, and the vibration made her press my head harder. I began eating her with real hunger, forgetting everything else. Long strokes, a firm tongue on her clitoris, short sucks, saliva mixing with what she released. She was soaking my mouth completely.

Vera raised one leg, braced it against the toilet, and gave me greater access to her crotch. She rubbed herself directly against my face, using my mouth as if it were another toy. I breathed whenever I could, turning my head just enough to get air before burying myself there again. Her moans were no longer discreet; they were low and hoarse, growing more tense by the second.

—Don’t slow down. Almost there. Swallow everything I give you.

My hand went to my thigh on its own, looking for support, not touching myself. I was dripping inside my jeans. My jaw hurt, and I kept going anyway, digging in with my tongue, sucking, letting her use me. Vera took out her phone with her free hand, aimed it downward, and I understood that she was taking a picture of me with my face buried in her pussy. The humiliation made me moan again.

A second later she came. I felt it in my mouth and across my lips, a hot release as she held me tightly against her and trembled over my desperate arousal. I swallowed without thinking, obedient and excited, continuing with gentle licks while the orgasm passed through her. When she finally loosened her grip on my hair, my chin was wet and my breathing was in tatters.

—Look at me —she said.

I lifted my face. She smiled when she saw me smeared.

—Not bad for your first time. Don’t clean yourself up yet.

I swallowed. My mouth tasted like her, and it drove me crazy.

—What about me? —I asked, more desperate than I would have liked.

Vera pulled her underwear back up with complete composure.

—You, when you’ve earned it.

The denial hurt exactly where it aroused me most. She noticed my expression and gave a small laugh.

—Come on. Bruno needs to see you like this.

—I’m embarrassed.

—Get used to it. Properly carried shame is useful too.

We left the bathroom. I walked with my head lowered, my face burning, the area around my mouth sticky. When we reached the table, Bruno watched me for a full second without saying anything. That silence was worse than any comment.

—Lift your face —he ordered at last.

I did.

His gaze traveled over my glistening mouth, my disheveled hair, the trembling of my lips. He smiled very slightly, just enough.

—Good start —he said—. Next time I’ll taste you.

All I could do was nod.

—Go clean yourself up. You’ve learned enough for today.

I obeyed. But I left the place worse off than when I had entered: hot, empty, and fiercely in need of more.

***

When I got home, I didn’t greet anyone, check anything, or even take off my earrings. I went straight to my room, closed the door, and stripped on the way to the bed. My underwear was soaked and smelled like me in a way that made me feel both ashamed and proud. I looked at myself in the mirror for a few seconds: swollen lips, bright eyes, hard nipples beneath the T-shirt I tore off in one pull.

I wanted to repeat every second in that bathroom, but this time in my favor. Or as close as possible.

I opened the bedside drawer and took out a medium-sized black dildo, smooth and perfect for fucking my ass whenever I needed that clean pain that sent me over the edge. I spat all over it, savoring the obscene gesture of putting in my mouth what I was later going to open myself with from behind. While I coated it with saliva, my other hand searched for my pussy and found my swollen, sensitive clitoris, almost sore from being aroused for so long without release.

—You’re such a dirty girl —I whispered to myself, remembering Vera’s tone.

I lay on my side first, raising one leg. With the fingers of one hand I spread my ass, and with the other I brought the tip of the dildo to my entrance. I clenched my teeth at the first push. My ass yielded slowly, with that thick burn that made me release little broken moans. I pushed farther, breathing deeply, feeling it open me inch by inch until it swallowed the whole thing.

I stayed still for a moment, enjoying the pressure. Then I began moving it with short thrusts. Every entry pulled a moan from me; every withdrawal left me begging for the next. I put two fingers into my pussy at the same time and found myself so wet they nearly slipped in without resistance. I began fucking myself from behind while penetrating myself from the front with my fingers, squeezing my nipples with my free hand until they were hard and red.

The image of Vera using me with my face between her legs returned all at once. Then Bruno appeared, serious, telling me that next time he would taste me. I came thinking about that. Not gentle caresses or tenderness, but orders, saliva, shame, and my body responding like a grateful bitch.

The orgasm clenched my pussy around my fingers and made me push the dildo deeper into my ass, until I felt that delicious twinge that emptied me completely. I trembled for a while, still pinching one nipple, my thighs wet and my ass throbbing around the toy.

When I finally relaxed, I lay on my back, open and panting. I brought two fingers to my mouth and tasted my own wetness while thinking about the message I knew would arrive sooner or later. This was no longer just about hidden fantasies in my bedroom. I had obeyed someone for the first time in real life, swallowed her come on my knees in a public bathroom, and discovered that it didn’t frighten me nearly as much as it aroused me.

One idea excited me above all others: next time, Vera would not be the one putting me to the test.

And I was already eager to find out how much I could endure.