The Dinner Where My Girlfriend Showed Me Who’s in Charge

Renata was a coworker I barely ever spoke to. Reserved, almost invisible in meetings, one of those people who lower their gaze when someone compliments them. I was attracted to her precisely because of that, because of everything she seemed to keep hidden, and when we finally started seeing each other I discovered something I never would have guessed: beneath that shyness lived a deeply dominant woman, determined to make me hers.

At our last encounter she had handcuffed me to the bed. By the way she smiled while putting the keys away, I knew she had bought some new toy. I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea, but something inside me was sure that night she would make me try it.

—Okay, I’ll see you tonight. Should I pick you up? —I said on the phone.

—No. I’ll pick you up —she answered, and then immediately explained that we were going to dinner at a restaurant.

She arrived right on time. She texted me to let me know she was outside, and when I went down, I felt something strange, as if the roles had been reversed and this time I was the one being picked up. It bothered me less than I thought it would. And it all dissolved the second I saw her: she was incredibly sexy. She loved dresses, and that night she was wearing a very short black one. I got into the car and couldn’t tear my eyes away from her legs, which stood out against the darkness of the cabin and the fabric of the dress.

She pointed to her cheek, silently telling me to give her a kiss. It was insane. Apparently the whole domination thing wouldn’t stay in the bedroom: I’d been beside her for one minute and she was already giving me orders.

—Why do you keep staring at them? —she asked. I knew she meant her legs.

—I don’t know. I think I like them too much.

—Like a fetish?

—I guess so. Though I prefer your legs to anything else.

—Were you always like this?

—No. I think it started the night you made me kiss them.

—Haha, you’re adorable! —she said, and pinched my cheek.

—Mm… thanks? —I replied with a bit of sarcasm.

—Give them a kiss.

—Here?

—Here or at the restaurant. Your choice.

I didn’t think twice. I turned to make sure no neighbor was watching, though the street was dark, and leaned in to kiss her near the knee. As my lips brushed her smooth skin, something lit up inside me. I couldn’t stop: I slowly moved upward toward her thighs, pushing up the hem of her dress with my forehead, until I planted a long kiss a few inches from her hip.

I was surrendering more and more to her command, and at the same time I couldn’t reconcile this woman with the girl I had met, the one who wouldn’t even raise her hand to speak her mind. Taking orders from her had something unreal about it.

—Where are we going? —I asked.

—To my favorite restaurant. They serve Italian food.

***

We arrived, ordered, and while we talked they brought the dishes. We chatted about a bit of everything until I thought to ask her something that had been on my mind.

—Why do you like dominating so much?

—Wow, what a change of subject. Where’s this interest coming from?

—Curiosity.

—Like I told you, at first I only fantasized about having you tied up. I never thought of it as “dominating,” but seeing you like that made me realize a lot of things.

—Like what?

—It turns me on to have power over you. To have you obey me. I always felt fragile in the face of the world, and having tamed you, even a little, makes me feel more secure in myself.

—So you do it as a self-improvement method?

—Haha, no. I do it because I like it. The fact that it’s therapeutic too is just an extra benefit.

—I see. And how did you feel when you had me handcuffed?

—Handcuffed and naked —she corrected with a smile.

—Yes. How did you feel?

—Control. Knowing that exactly what I wanted would be done, and that if you wanted to go faster or slower you’d have to adjust to my pace.

—What else?

—I saw you like you were my pet. Haha. Begging for my attention.

—Wow. That sounds kind of cruel.

—Not at all. It’s sweet.

I felt a strange mix of things. Part of me was offended by the comparison; another part, however, was turned on.

—What’s sweet about seeing me as a pet?

—That I want you. That you want my attention. And above all, that you’re mine.

As she finished the sentence, I felt her foot slide over my ankle and begin to travel slowly up my calf.

—I see… —I murmured.

—I know you like it too. I don’t understand why you resist giving yourself over completely.

Her foot reached my thighs and moved toward my crotch. I began to harden.

—I guess it’s new for me. It makes me feel very…

—Vulnerable? —she said, completing the sentence.

—Yes…

—I understand. Then I’ll have to make you mine little by little.

Her foot reached my bulge and began to massage it over my pants. It was a relief for her to finally do it; I wanted it desperately. The foreplay was delicious, but now I needed more.

—No one can see us, right? —I asked.

—Relax, the tablecloth covers enough. Do you like what I’m doing?

—A lot…

—Should I stop?

—No, please.

—Will you do what I tell you?

—… —I didn’t answer.

—As you wish —and she withdrew her foot.

—Yes! —I blurted before she could pull it away completely, taking her arm across the table.

—Yes, what?

—I’ll do whatever you want…

She started massaging me again. The pants were killing me, but the softness of the fabric of her stocking sliding over me was exquisite.

—Take it out —she ordered.

—What thing?

—Don’t play dumb. Let it breathe, poor thing. It must be suffocating in there.

I got incredibly nervous. I had never done anything like that. I was about to pull my dick out in the middle of a restaurant, and the mere idea of someone calling the police chilled me.

—What if we get caught? —I asked, letting my fear show.

—We won’t. And if we do, I’ll handle it. Okay?

I stopped overthinking it and got to work. I glanced around, slid my hand under the table, and when I reached my crotch, I found the soft fabric of the stocking covering her foot. I didn’t want to get distracted, but I couldn’t help stroking it for a moment: it was the foot of this beautiful woman sitting in front of me, who could turn me on with so little. She slid it downward and played with my testicles, squeezed by the position; I could feel perfectly how she pushed them around.

I unzipped my fly without too much difficulty and, between the layers of my boxer briefs, managed to free myself. When I finally had it out, I looked at Renata. She looked back at me with parted lips, clearly aroused by the whole scene. She kept playing, and now the silky fabric brushed directly against my skin. It was maddening.

—Can I get you anything else? —a waiter asked. His voice made me jolt.

—Do you have piña coladas? —Renata said, not the least bit rattled.

—Yes, miss. Would you like me to bring you one?

—Yes, please.

—And you, sir?

—I’m fine, thanks…

My heart was pounding like a drum while she kept at it. Not even with the waiter standing beside us did she remove her foot; she only stopped moving it for an instant. When he left, she resumed the game.

—Take off my stocking —she ordered.

I obeyed. I looked around again and slipped my hand back under the table. She rested her foot on my sex, pressing it sideways against my thigh. It hurt a little, but not unbearably. I looked at her: her expression was fierce. Without stopping the pressure, she waited for me to remove her stocking, which was short and didn’t even cover her ankle.

—Here you go, miss. Do you need anything else? —the waiter came back with the drink. This time I saw him coming and yanked my hand away, which surprised Renata.

—No, thank you very much —she answered, and at the same time she lifted her foot and let it fall suddenly onto my testicles, crushing them with her heel as punishment. The pain ripped a groan from me, which I covered with a cough when the waiter turned his head. I don’t know whether he suspected anything; in any case, he left.

—Why didn’t you warn me he was coming? —she said, nudging me with her foot.

—Sorry… —I murmured, and finished taking off her stocking.

—Put it in your pocket.

I slipped it into my right pocket. As I did, I felt her bare foot press again: touching her skin directly was the greatest reward of the night, what I had been waiting for all this time. The tension was so great that I wanted to finish right there, but that would have ruined the game; I had to hold out. While she crushed me, she massaged me with the sole and then with her toes. I had already leaked a little, and that made it easier for her toes to catch the tip and make it slide in slow circles. It was delicious.

She kept going for quite a while, taking occasional sips of her drink.

—Are you enjoying it? —she asked.

—A lot.

—Wouldn’t it be funny if I stopped right now and didn’t let you finish?

—It wouldn’t be funny to me… —I answered.

—Haha, I know. But it would for me. Maybe I will… —she said, and started to withdraw her foot slowly.

I slipped my hand under the table to hold it there.

—Keep going, please.

—Mmm, that’s what I like. You begging me. Are you mine? Does this thing under my foot belong to me?

—Yes, it’s yours.

—That’s what I wanted to hear!

***

From there everything became more intense. She started pressing me against the pelvis, harder and harder, alternating between the base and the tip, running her fingers all over my length. She repeated the cycle over and over, increasing the pressure little by little to the limit. When the pain became too much and I lowered my hand to stop her, she pushed even harder. Looking at her face, I understood how much it turned her on to have me like that, at her mercy; she was breathing hard, just like I was. Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to take any more, she released the pressure.

—I can’t hold out any longer —she said, and got up to sit beside me.

Now next to me, she didn’t wait even a second. She glanced quickly around and took me firmly in hand, jerking me fast, so fast I could barely hold on. I felt the rough rub of the fly at the base, but the heat of her hand made that detail insignificant.

Suddenly she let go and gripped me fully by another, more sensitive part, pulling slightly downward. The pain came at once.

—How does it feel to have me holding you like this? —she asked.

—It hurts a little…

—You said you were mine. So I can do whatever I want with you, right?

—… —I said nothing.

—Right!? —and as she repeated it she squeezed hard. The pressure of her fist made me hunch over and place my hand over hers, silently asking her to ease up.

—Yes, I’m yours…

—That’s more like it —she said, and started jerking me again.

I kept an eye on the dining room. I was about to finish. She tried something new: with the tips of her fingers she circled the head and drew loops. I couldn’t take it anymore, I was seconds from the end, when the waiter appeared at the worst possible moment.

—Can I get you anything else?

—The bill, please —Renata said. I felt my orgasm slipping away, and the mere idea was unbearable.

—I’ll bring it right over.

—You have until I get back to finish. If you don’t, there won’t be anything else tonight —she declared.

And she kept going, this time much faster. Ironically, now that I wanted it, it had become harder. I needed something concrete to get there, and she knew it perfectly, though I was embarrassed to admit it: I wanted a slap down there.

I felt humiliated asking for something so strange, even though it was obvious she was enjoying it. But the idea of being left unsatisfied terrified me more than embarrassment, so I blurted out:

—Could you… hit me down there?

—Whaaat?

—If you want…

—It’s the first time you’ve asked me that. I’m proud of you. Haha, with great pleasure!

She let go of my hand for a couple of seconds and then I felt the sharp impact of her fist. The pain shot up into my abdomen; asking her, far from making her gentler, had encouraged her to hit harder than usual. She let out a little laugh when she saw my grimace and resumed the rhythm. I was so turned on by that mix of stabbing pain and pleasure that within seconds I came with an intensity I didn’t remember, spilling myself completely under the table. She gradually slowed down until I was left exhausted, and then she wiped her hand with a napkin as if nothing had happened.

Afterward she leaned over me, turned my face, and gave me a tender kiss on the lips, followed by a hug. She stayed like that, wrapped around me, until the waiter arrived with the bill.

I took out my wallet, but she stopped me.

—Relax. I invited you —she said, taking out her card to pay.