The Submissive I Met on a Work Trip

I had arrived in that inland city a couple of days earlier for a supplier fair. My part ended Friday at midmorning, so I decided to steal the weekend from the calendar and stay. That same night, with no one to answer to, I looked for a place recommended in a travel forum. I had no expectations. I just wanted a decent drink and to watch people.

The place surprised me for two reasons. The first was the age of the clientele: not a trace of twenty-somethings, just men and women forty and up, exactly what the review had promised. Those recommendations are rarely right. The second detail was the lighting. It wasn’t sunk in that aggressive dimness typical of trendy clubs; you could make out faces, gestures, glances. And glances, that night, were what mattered.

Since I was alone, the first thing I did was lean on the bar and order a gin and tonic with a Japanese gin I like for its citrusy, almost floral aroma. While I waited for the ice, I watched. Then I saw her.

She was dark-haired, warm-skinned, with more curves than a mountain road. She wore a short black dress, black stockings, and red heels that deliberately broke up the ensemble. She had a generous chest, barely held in by the fabric, and a way of holding her glass, with two fingers, that betrayed patience. I stared at her without trying to hide it. It didn’t take her long to notice. And when our eyes met, there was nothing innocent in hers.

I couldn’t say how much time passed. In circumstances like that, you stop counting minutes. At some point I crossed the place and stood beside her.

—You don’t usually come to places like this alone —I said.

—I come when I’m looking for something specific —she replied, without taking her eyes off me.

Her name was Daniela. She was from there and worked as a representative for a watch brand. She spoke slowly, choosing her words, and up close she got me even harder: those thighs, that mouth painted a discreet red, that neckline that seemed on the verge of winning the battle against the dress. But there was something else, something beneath the conversation, a current I thought I recognized and that I also liked.

At one point I slipped my arm behind her back and pulled her toward me. I expected a sign of protest, a body that tenses. There was none of that. She let herself be guided as if she had been waiting for the order from the beginning. We stayed staring at each other, very close, for a dense instant. Then our mouths found each other.

Daniela kissed well. Her full lips clung to mine with a mix of hunger and surrender, and our tongues explored one another without hurry. Meanwhile, my hands traced her back, slid down to her ass, and lingered on the curve of her thighs over the stocking. When we broke apart, we were both breathing differently. And I already knew what that current was.

—You have a car —I said. It wasn’t a question.

—Yes —she answered.

—Then let’s go.

We left the place and walked to the parking lot. Before she could take out the keys, I gently pushed her against the cold body of the car and held her chin.

—I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into —I said in her ear—. And what I expect from you.

She swallowed. Closed her eyes for a second. And answered in a different voice, smaller, almost a whisper:

—Yes, sir.

That confirmed it. What I had sensed at the bar, what drew me to the way she lowered her gaze, was exactly that. Daniela was submissive. And I was going to take the night seriously.

***

The drive took about twenty minutes. We barely spoke. Every so often I’d put my hand on her thigh and squeeze it, and she would keep driving, eyes forward, cheeks flushed. We arrived at a small villa in a quiet area on the outskirts. She left the car in the garage and we went into the house hand in hand.

As soon as we crossed the threshold of the living room, I grabbed her by the hips and gave her a simple order, without raising my voice:

—Get undressed.

She obeyed without complaint. She pulled down the side zipper, let the dress fall, and began taking off her stockings. I stopped her.

—No. The stockings and the heels stay on. A woman can be elegant even naked.

She stayed that way, in stockings and red heels, breathing hard and with her nipples already hard from the cold or from anticipation, probably both. I made her kneel on the rug and told her to wait while I went to the bathroom for a moment. When I came out, already naked, she was still in exactly the same position, with her hands on her thighs and her head slightly bowed. Good sign.

I walked over and took her by the nape.

—You know what you have to do.

She did it at once. Daniela had the mouth of an expert: sometimes she took the whole cock in, other times she focused only on the tip with her tongue, and other times she ran all the way up and down the shaft while looking up at me, checking the effect she was having. She was driving me insane. I gripped her nape firmly and started setting the pace myself, thrusting in and out faster and faster. When I couldn’t hold back any longer, I came in her mouth, and she, like the good submissive she was, didn’t let a single drop escape.

I pulled her up from the floor. Her eyes were shining and she had a smile that was asking for more. I led her to the back of the sofa and made her rest her chest on it, leaving her ass stuck up in the air. Before continuing, I pinched her nipples between two fingers and twisted them slowly. She let out a sharp moan, halfway between complaint and plea.

—Stay still —I said.

I stroked her ass cheeks with my open palm, unhurried, tracing circles, letting her relax. And just when she started to let her body go, I delivered the first slap. The sound cracked through the living room. Daniela jerked and let out a cry that was half pain and half pleasure, because pain, dosed at exactly the right moment, can be one of the best things in the world.

—Do you want me to stop? —I asked.

—No, sir —she panted—. Please, don’t.

I slid my hand between her legs. She was soaked. I put two fingers in her cunt and moved them slowly, noticing how she clenched around them, how her breathing went out of control second by second. I brought her to the edge on purpose and, just when her thighs began to tremble, I pulled my fingers out. She protested with a frustrated moan into the sofa cushion.

—Not yet —I murmured.

Then I started a series of spankings, varying the intensity, switching cheeks, changing the intervals. The fun was in never letting her know when the next one was coming. Sometimes I waited two seconds, sometimes ten. Sometimes I barely brushed her, sometimes I marked her skin red. Daniela writhed, begged, and the more she begged, the wetter she got. I regretted not having anything with me besides my hands; next time, I thought, I’d bring the rest.

***

I made her sit up and led her to the bedroom, tugging her hair just enough to show who was in charge. I put her on all fours on the bed, with the heels still on, hanging off the edge. I held her mane with one hand and, with the other, guided my cock to her entrance.

I entered slowly, millimeter by millimeter, so she could feel exactly how I was filling her. She arched her back and let out a long moan. I started pumping in a controlled, deliberate rhythm, letting her get used to it, and only then did I start increasing the pace. The room filled with the sound of our bodies colliding and with her voice, less and less restrained.

—Ask for it —I ordered.

—Can I... can I come, sir?

—Not yet.

I made her wait a few more seconds, thrusting hard, until her whole body went taut. Only then did I give her permission. Daniela came with a cry, with a spasm that ran down her back. I didn’t stop. I stayed inside her, keeping the same relentless rhythm, until I felt her come again, this second one in a wild shudder that made even her legs tremble. That was when I finished too, emptying myself inside her while holding her hips still so she wouldn’t move.

We collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and breathless. The tension of dominance dissolved all at once into something softer. I held her from behind, pushed the hair away from her nape, and kissed her shoulder. She reached for my hand and intertwined her fingers with mine. We stayed like that for a long time, with caresses and low voices, until sleep overcame us both.

***

I woke up well into the morning. Daniela was still asleep, face down, with a calm smile on her lips and light slipping through the curtains. I looked at her for longer than necessary. Then I got up quietly, gathered my clothes, and left them folded on a chair.

Before leaving, I found a pen and a piece of paper in the hallway. I wrote down my phone number and, underneath it, a single line: “Call me when you want to misbehave again.” I left the note on the nightstand, where she couldn’t possibly miss it.

Whether she called me or not is a matter for another story.