The restaurant then dungeon

Restaurant then dungeon

That night I did not have him come to Me directly.

I summoned him first to the restaurant.
Table at the back, low light, away from curious eyes.

He was already seated when I arrived.
Hands flat on the cloth, as ordered.
Eyes down.

I sat across from him.
I said almost nothing during dinner.

Each time he lifted his eyes, I put them down again with a look.

During the meal I let my napkin fall.
He came at once to my feet and handed it back.

I allowed him to kiss my pumps.
I watched the waitress smile.

He ate in silence.
Drank in silence.
Waited a long time for Me to finish.

Then I went to the restroom and left something for him in the ladies’ room.

Pretending I had forgotten it, I ordered him to go there and bring back his gift.

He returned smiling, one hand closed.
I made him open it in front of the waitress who had come to the table.

A knowing smile with her.
An embarrassed look from him.

At the end of the meal I held out my coat.
He stood, took it, and followed Me.

My driver was waiting in the restaurant car park.

The usual procedure to the dungeon.
Opaque glasses. Short drive. Silence.

Inside, I removed the glasses.
He held out the envelope.
I took it without comment.

“Naked. On your knees.”

He obeyed.
I dropped the coat.
Black latex, pumps, cap.

I came closer and set the sole of my foot on him, still hard.

“You were well behaved at dinner.
That gives you no rights.”

I put him on my St Andrew’s cross.
I bound him, arms spread, without hurrying.

Then I took my time.
First the crop. Slow. Precise.
Every stroke calculated. Every pause deliberate.

Then my gloves on his skin.
Then the Wartenberg wheel.

He moaned once.
I stopped at once.

“One more sound and I stop for good.”

He fell silent.
I continued. Longer. Deeper.

Long enough for him to understand that the restaurant had only been preparation.
That real control started here.

Feeling him swell, I put Kali’s teeth on him.

His arousal was locked in that frame.
The harder he got, the deeper the teeth went.
Pain and pleasure.

I pressed against him.
The latex scraped his skin.

I took a vibrator and used it until he came across the latex.

I looked at him, still bound, short of breath.
I released him from the cross.

“Wipe it with your tongue. Calmly. Slowly.”

“Tidy. Dress. Wait for My signal.”

He obeyed in silence.

That night I barely needed to speak.

The look in the restaurant, the latex, the cross, the tools and the silence were enough.