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

Renata was a coworker I barely ever exchanged words with. 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 tucked away, and when we finally started dating I discovered something I never would have guessed: beneath that shyness lived a deeply dominant woman, determined to make me hers.

On our last encounter she had handcuffed me to the bed, ridden me until my cock was raw, and come twice on my face before letting me cum. From the way she smiled while she put the keys away that morning, I knew she had bought some new toy. The idea didn’t quite thrill me, but something inside me was sure that night she was going to make me try it.

—All right, see you tonight. Should I pick you up? —I said on the phone.

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

She arrived right on time. She texted me to say 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 didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. And it all dissolved the moment 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 take my eyes off her legs, highlighted 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 dominance wasn’t going to stay inside the bedroom: I’d been next to her for a minute and she was already giving me orders.

—Why do you stare at them so much? —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. Although I prefer your legs to anything else.

—Have you always been like this?

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

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

—Um… thanks? —I replied, with a hint 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. The moment my lips brushed her smooth skin, something lit up inside me. I couldn’t stop: I slowly moved upward toward her thighs, pushing the hem of the dress with my forehead, until I planted a long kiss a few inches from her hip. I caught the damp, hot smell of her cunt through her panties, and my cock went hard instantly against the seam of my pants. She opened her legs slightly, letting me see the dark fabric clinging to her already swollen lips. I gave her one last kiss on the inner thigh, mouth open, almost biting, and forced myself to lift my head before I tore her panties off with my teeth right then and there.

Every time I yielded more to her control, and at the same time I couldn’t reconcile this woman with the girl I had met, the one who couldn’t even raise her hand to voice an opinion. Taking orders from her felt unreal.

—Where are we going? —I asked, my voice a little hoarse.

—To my favorite restaurant. They do Italian food.

***

We arrived, ordered, and while we talked they brought the dishes. We chatted about all sorts of things until I remembered to ask her something that had been on my mind.

—Why do you like dominating so much?

—Wow, that’s a change of subject. What’s behind your interest?

—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.

—What things?

—It turns me on to have power over you. To have you obey me. I’ve always felt fragile in front of the world, and having tamed you, even just a little, makes me feel more confident 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 an extra benefit.

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

—Handcuffed and naked —she corrected with a smile—. With your hard cock pointing at me, watching you beg with your eyes.

—Yeah. What did you feel?

—Control. 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 rhythm. That I could suck your cock for two minutes and leave you on the edge, and then go sit on your face without letting you cum until I felt like it.

—What else?

—I saw you like you were my pet. Haha. Begging for my attention. Your cock dripping, asking me to let you stick it in.

—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, got turned on, and my cock started swelling against my zipper.

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

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

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

—I see… —I murmured.

—I know you like it too. I don’t understand why you resist surrendering completely.

Her foot reached my thighs and advanced toward my crotch. I started getting hard.

—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 started massaging it over my pants. She ran the full length of my cock with the sole, pressing it against my own thigh, feeling how hard it was through the fabric. It was a relief that she finally did it; I had wanted it desperately. 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.

—Suit yourself —and she withdrew her foot.

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

—Yes, what?

—I’ll do whatever you want…

She went back to massaging me, this time slower and with more pressure, sliding up the whole length of my cock and down to my balls, squeezing there for a moment before returning to the tip. The pants were killing me, but the softness of the fabric of her stocking as it slid over me was exquisite.

—Take it out —she ordered.

—Take what out?

—Don’t play dumb. The cock. Take it out. Let the poor thing breathe. It must be suffocating in there.

I got incredibly nervous. I had never done anything like that. I was about to take my cock out in the middle of a restaurant, and the mere thought that someone might call 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 and got on with it. I glanced around, slipped 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 in front of me, the one who could turn me on with so little. She slid it downward and played with my testicles, tight from the position; I could feel perfectly how she pushed them, how she flattened them with her fingertips over my pants, how she rolled them from side to side as if they were hers.

I unzipped my fly without much trouble and, between the layers of my boxer briefs, managed to free my cock. It sprang out, hard, the tip already shiny with pre-cum. When I finally had it out, I looked at Renata. She looked back at me with parted lips, her tongue just barely visible, clearly aroused by the whole scene. She kept playing, and now the silky fabric brushed directly against my skin. The sole of her foot slid over my glans, wrapped around it, pressed it against my belly, and went back down to the base. Her toes nimbly trapped my cock between the big toe and the second toe, and squeezed it in small tugs. It was maddening. My cock throbbed with every touch and a thick drop of fluid fell onto the stocking, leaving a dark stain.

—Would you like anything else? —a waiter asked. His voice made me flinch.

—Do you have piña coladas? —Renata said, not the least bit rattled, while her foot kept moving slowly over my glans.

—We do, miss. Shall I bring you one?

—Yes, please.

—And you, sir?

—I’m fine, thanks… —I said through clenched teeth, because at that very moment she had pinched the tip with her toes.

My heart was pounding like a drum while she kept doing her thing. Even with the waiter beside us, she didn’t move her foot away; she only stopped moving it for a second. When he left, she went back to the game with renewed eagerness, rubbing the entire sole along my cock, up and down, up and down, until the pre-cum soaked the nylon completely.

—Take off my stocking —she ordered.

I obeyed. I glanced around once more and put my hand back under the table. She rested her foot on my cock, crushing it sideways against my thigh. It hurt a little, not unbearably. I looked at her: she had a fierce expression, biting her lower lip. Without easing the pressure, she waited for me to remove her stocking, which was short and didn’t even cover her ankle. I pulled it down with my fingers, tugging from the heel, while she pressed the big toe against the base of my cock until it made me gasp.

—Here you are, 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 replied, and at the same time she lifted her foot and suddenly let it fall onto my testicles, crushing them with her heel as punishment. The pain tore a groan from me, which I disguised 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, pushing on my balls with her foot.

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

—Put it in your pocket.

I slid it into my right pocket. As I did, I felt her bare foot press against my cock again: touching her skin directly was the biggest prize of the night, what I had been waiting for all this time. Her hot, smooth skin clung to my soaked glans and made it glide without friction. The tension was such that I wanted to cum right there, splatter her whole foot with cum under the table, but that would have ruined the game; I had to hold on. While she crushed me, she massaged with the sole and then with her toes. My arousal had already left a puddle of fluid, and that made it easier for her toes to catch the tip and make it slide in slow circles, smearing it. Then she lowered her heel onto my balls, wrapped them in the curve of her arch, rolled them slowly, and came back up. It was delicious. Every time her big toe brushed the frenulum, a spasm slipped out of me and forced me to clutch the edge of the chair.

She kept at it for a good while, taking occasional sips of her drink as if she weren’t masturbating me with her foot in the middle of the restaurant.

—Are you enjoying that? —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 for me… —I replied.

—Haha, I know. But it would be for me. Maybe I will… —she said, and began to withdraw her foot slowly, dragging her toes all along my cock.

I slipped my hand under the table to keep it there, pressing it against my cock.

—Keep going, please.

—Mmm, that’s more like it. Beg me. Are you mine? Does this cock under my foot belong to me?

—Yes, it’s yours.

—That’s what I wanted to hear!

***

From there on, everything got more intense. She started pressing me against the pelvis, harder and harder, alternating between the base and the tip, running her fingers along my entire length. She grabbed it, tugged at the skin, stretched it against my belly, and then let go all at once. 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, sinking her heel onto my balls until she tore a muffled groan from me. Looking at her face, I understood how much it turned her on to have me like that, at her mercy; she was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, and I’m sure she had her panties soaked under that dress. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, she released the pressure.

—I can’t take it anymore —she said, and stood up to sit beside me.

Now next to me, she didn’t wait even a second. She took a quick look around and grabbed my cock with her hand, closing her fingers into a tight fist and pumping fast, so fast I could barely hold on. I felt the rough brush of the zipper at the base, but the heat of her hand made that detail insignificant. Each downward stroke dragged the skin to expose the glans completely, each upward stroke wrapped it again with a twist of her wrist that made me clench my teeth. Her hand was sticky with all the fluid I’d spilled over the last half hour, and that wet sound, that tiny sloshing under the table, had me on the verge of exploding.

Suddenly she let go and grabbed my balls, closing her fist around them and pulling down slightly. The pain hit immediately.

—What does it feel like when I have 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 when she repeated it she squeezed hard. The pressure of her fist on my testicles made me hunch over and put my hand on top of hers, silently asking her to ease up.

—Yes, I’m yours…

—That’s more like it —she said, and went back to jerking me off, this time leaning against my shoulder and whispering in my ear—. I’d love to get down from this chair right now, kneel under the table, and take it down my throat. Suck you until you cum in my mouth and I swallow every drop. But I can’t, so I’m going to make you cum with my hand. And you’re going to cum hard, for me.

I kept an eye on the dining room, breath catching in my throat. I was about to finish. She tried something new: with her fingertips she circled the tip and drew little loops, slipping on her own fluid, pressing the frenulum with her thumb on each turn. I couldn’t take it anymore, I was seconds from the end, when the waiter appeared at the worst possible moment.

—Do you need anything else?

—The bill, please —Renata said, without stopping the movement of her wrist beneath the tablecloth. I felt my orgasm slip away, and the mere idea was unbearable.

—I’ll bring it right over.

—You have until he gets back to cum. If you don’t, there won’t be anything else tonight. I won’t suck it, I won’t fuck it, I won’t touch it. You’ll sleep with your balls full —she pronounced.

And she kept going, this time much faster, her fist closed around the glans, twisting on the tip. Ironically, now that I wanted it, it had become harder. I needed something concrete to get there, and I knew it perfectly well, though I was embarrassed to admit it: I wanted a blow down there.

It seemed humiliating to ask for something so strange, even though it was obvious she was enjoying it. But the idea of staying unsatisfied, with my balls swollen all night, scared me more than my shame, so I blurted out:

—Could you… hit me in the balls?

—Whaaaat?

—If you want…

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

She let go for a couple of seconds and then I felt the sharp impact of her fist against my testicles. 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 grabbed my cock again, pumping it once more, lightning fast. A few seconds later, another blow. And another. I was so aroused by that mix of stabbing pain and pleasure that within seconds I came with an intensity I didn’t remember. The first surge shook me from head to toe: I felt the cum rush up my urethra in powerful bursts and spray out in thick jets that splattered the underside of the tablecloth, my own thigh, her hand. I bit my lip to keep from moaning out loud while the orgasm ripped through me in waves, one after another, each accompanied by a spasm in my stomach. Renata kept squeezing the glans with her fingers, wringing out the last drop, milking me as if she wanted to empty me completely. When there was nothing left, she gradually slowed down until I was left exhausted, my red, hypersensitive cock throbbing in her palm. Then she wiped her hand with a napkin as if nothing had happened, brought her index finger, still shining, to her mouth, and sucked it slowly while staring at me.

Then 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. Under the tablecloth, my cock was still out, limp and sticky, and I quietly tucked it away while she signed.

I reached for my wallet, but she stopped me.

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