Beau of Les Belles Pt. 01

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This work is copyright by the author. Commercial use is prohibited without permission. Archiving and reposting of this story UNMODIFIED is permitted provided that no fee is charged, either directly or indirectly (including so-called "adult checks") AND provided that this disclaimer and attribution to the original author are maintained. I hope you enjoy this story. I enjoyed writing it.

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This story is intended for mature audiences. You must be 18 or older to read this story. This story contains violence and non consensual sex. It is purely fictional. No one should really do the things described in this story, which are purely fantasy. If this subject matter offends please DO NOT read. Thank you.

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A Tale from the Early Days of Les Belles -- Part 1, the introduction.

Les Belles Dames Sans Mercy Hath thee in a thrall!

1. A Chance Meeting Leads to a Date with a Stranger

It was just going to be a first date with a pretty young woman he met pretty much by chance. She was tall and trim. Gray eyes, full lips, a wide, smooth brow and tawny hair cut sensibly above her shoulders. Dorky glasses made her look very hip. Radiating attitude to spare. He didn't know much else about her.

They met at a local coffee house. Both had ordered straight espresso, double shots. When a little steaming cup appeared on the counter, both reached for it. Their fingers touched. She left her hand on the cup and scrutinized him, making clear she felt it was her coffee not his. He wasn't bad looking, she decided. Curly brown hair with soft brown eyes and a strong chin. He was medium height, a little short of six feet, and average build.

"You first," he deferred.

She let a little smile play on her lips. "Are you sure?"

"That you can be first? Yes, I'm sure."

""I like guys who put me first," she teased.

"I like women who are upfront about what they want," he replied.

"Well what I want is to come first. Everytime" She looked at him suggestively over the espresso cup and saucer she held with both hands as she sipped. . She was wearing a lightweight man's shirt tucked into her jeans. He couldn't help but notice her smallish breasts poking provocatively through the soft cotton fabric.

"Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?" His espresso appeared on the counter. He picked it up.

She went to a free table, sat, and looked at him expectantly. He joined her.

"Do you mean that or are you just saying it?" She looked at him, obviously appraising what she was seeing.

"Yes, I mean it," he replied a little on the defensive. "In a relationship between a woman and a man, it's the woman who should come first. If a man doesn't believe that, what satisfaction is there in it for the woman?"

She downed her espresso, then looked steadily into his eyes and spoke very quietly so that he had to lean forward to hear her. She leaned toward him too. Suddenly their conversation seemed very private and very personal.

"I like what I'm hearing, and what I'm seeing," she declared.

"I do too," he answered.

"So you say, but what do you know about me? For starters, I'm a very demanding person," she continued. "It isn't easy to satisfy me. When I say I like guys who put me first, it means you're going to pay lots of attention to my wants and needs, and it means you might not get what you want at all, if it's not what I want. Or, what if I want something you don't? You'll just have to do what I want anyway. And I may not be very nice about it, either. This rose comes with thorns, sharp ones that can scratch if you're not careful, or maybe even if you are. If you get involved with me, you'd better keep supplied with plenty of band aids! Not that my way of doing things doesn't have a certain appeal with some guys at least. At least, so they say. I do like sex and I do like trying things." She lifted her chest and pouted a little. "Okay, all that being said, are you interested in giving this a try? A simple one-word yes or no will do, without any hedging, please."

She was a real control freak and completely open about it, he thought. Probably, she was a complete tyrant. That, and very sexy. It made a dangerous combination. He felt like he was trapped in her gaze.

"Hard to decide?" she asked, smiling archly. "Things can get very hard for some guys with a woman like me. Are you one? I think so." She thrust her chest forward even more, taut nipples showing clearly through her shirt.

"Yes," he replied. "I mean, yes. Yes I'm interested."

"I think I'll take that as a yes." Her smile broadened. "It's Labor Day weekend. Are you busy?"

"I'm wide open."

"Good. We'll meet here, out in front at 7 tonight. Have dinner first. Don't be late. Get out of that silly sweatshirt and wear something nice." Her hand brushed his cheek. "Do shave beforehand, okay? And don't make any other plans for the weekend. I have an option on your time, if I decide I want it, okay?"

"Okay, yes."

She stood and walked out, leaving him to bus both her cup and his. He realized she'd not given her name, nor asked for his. He wondered if she would be there at 7. He knew he would.

It was about ten minutes after 7 when she made her appearance. He was wondering whether to give up on her and leave. He wore a tweed jacket and sportshirt, open at the collar. She also wore a sportcoat, but with a light blue button down oxford shirt and a man's tie. They both wore khaki slacks. He was well dressed in a conservative way. She looked fashionably androgynous with her slim, athletic physique. He was only an inch or so taller even though she was in flats. She said hello and told him how much better he looked

than earlier, then beckoned him to follow. She walked him to her car, holding the door while he got in. They drove to a suburb he was not familiar with and stopped at a nondescript bar. The door handle on his side didn't work. He had to wait while she came around to his side of the car and opened it for him.

Much to his surprise, it looked like a lesbian bar. There were women seated together, some holding hands. There may have been one or two other men at some tables, but they could have been masculine looking women.

"Hi, Math," called the waitress, moving toward them. "And you too, cutie." She pointed at a curtained booth. "Make yourselves comfortable and I'll be right with you."

Math gestured for him to sit and when he did, she sat on the same side. "This is so nice and private, isn't it?" she said. "I have you all to myself."

"Math" he said. "That's unusual. Short for something?"

"Mathilde."

"I like it. It's you."

"What should I call you?"

"I'm John."

They spent the next hour talking about him. He shared his personal life, living situation and stories of his past romances. She confirmed that he lived alone and had no current romantic entanglements. He had several drinks. She nursed a single glass of wine, and then switched to mineral water, reminding him that she was the one driving. She got up to go to the women's room and was gone for several minutes. When she returned, she had one more drink for him. This would be his fourth. It was more than he wanted to drink but she'd bought it for him and it seemed rude to refuse. The mild sedative that she'd added to the drink, along with his consumption of alcohol, insured that he would be sleepy for the upcoming car ride.

When they got up to leave he felt a little unsteady. She took his arm and walked him out to the car. She helped him in, and put the seat back a little. Remarking that he looked tired, she suggested he close his eyes for a few minutes so he'd be rested for later. He did feel really sleepy, so he put his head back as she suggested. It wasn't long before he was drifting off. In a few minutes she asked quietly if he was enjoying the ride. When as expected he didn't answer she smiled and turned on some music. They drove on into the night.

When he woke they were driving down a country road he didn't recognize at all. It was dark. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep. He asked. "Oh, awhile," was all Math would said. After a few minutes, she turned onto a tiny lane. She stopped, used some kind of switch to open an electronic gate, and then drove through. In about five more minutes they drove up to an old farmhouse.

"Is this where you live?" he asked.

"Country place. I decided that, with you free all weekend, we could spend tonight up here."

"Are we far from town?" he asked.

"Not very," was her curt reply.

"Which direction have we been driving?" he continued his questioning, begging to get annoyed.

"Hmm, let's see. We turned left once or twice and then right. I think there was another turn in there. Then we were on a winding road. Several more turns. Then you woke up."

"Come on. Where are we?" he insisted. Her evasive answers felt like she was mocking him. He stared at her profile. Yes she was pretty but this was getting really annoying!

"I told you. My country place. Actually, it's not just mine. It belongs to a group of women I'm part of. Is this something you really have to know all about?" Her tone had turned scornful.

"Why won't you tell me?"

She stopped the car and turned toward him. Her hands stayed on the steering wheel. "Why do you have to know? Is this your masculine way of making yourself feel everything's under control? Or, are you just scared of me and need to have an escape route?"

"I don't like being in the dark. I like to know where I am. Is there something wrong with that?"

"I'll take you home if you're not comfortable with me," she declared. She was toying with him. It was fun to push him around a little and see how easily he'd give in. He would give in, of course! She was very adept at pushing males around. For now, it was fun to do this to him using the force of her personality. It would get his visit off on the right foot. Soon enough, she would be using other kinds of force! When he didn't object, she shrugged her shoulders dismissively and restarted the car.

"No, wait. Don't," he exclaimed. He wasn't ready to go home. Being taken by a pretty woman to her country place was not something he was about to pass on. So he conceded the argument. "You have a point. I guess I'm being too uptight. I don't need to know where we are."

She stopped the car and turned to him again, this time putting her hands in her lap. "Correct. You don't need to know, and I'm not going to tell you. That's that. You say you accept this. But do you really mean it? Right now, I think it's more than a little doubtful. If you do want to stay, you'll need to convince me you mean it."

"Well, I do. I put myself in your hands."

"Do you? Or are you just trying to manipulate me by pretending you'll go along with what I want? Well, it won't work. You'll either do what I want, or you won't. If you do try to manipulate me, I won't be very nice about it. Things may get nasty. So, you've been warned. If you don't really mean it about putting yourself in my hands, I'd advise you to take up my offer to drive you home. I'm serious."

He was up against her pushy, domineering side again. She really left no room for argument. He couldn't help feeling annoyed, and nearly couldn't help himself arguing with her. But he had the strong feeling that she would go ahead and dump him, and she was just too intriguing and too pretty to risk it. She was hot. He was willing to put up with it. He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Do with me as you will, madame," he replied. "I am your servant."

"Don't try to make a joke of this, John," she said in a quiet voice.

"It was just trying to lighten things up a little, okay? But I mean it. You're a fascinating person. I'm not used to women being so open about taking charge. I'm not saying I don't like it. I'm not used to it, that's all. But there's something about the way you are that I really like alot. But to be honest it also makes me feel pretty nervous. So, what I'm trying to say is, yes, I mean what I said. I put myself in your hands. I'm not trying to make a joke of it."

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. "That was so sweet," she said. "I think you do really mean it." His submissive streak was wide and just below the surface, that much was obvious. She congratulated herself silently. Once again she had picked an excellent candidate for the Les Belles brand of female domination. The only question was, whether he'd put up any interesting resistance or turn out to be a complete marshmallow, once she got to work on him in a serious way breaking him to the submissive's role.

"I do mean it," he offered, looking into her eyes.

"Even if that means I'm not going necessarily going to be very nice to you? I can be nice, but I certainly won't be nice all the time. This is something you'll just have to accept."

"Okay. I see where you're going with this. You're saying you get to be nice when you want to and not when you don't. If you have to be nice all the time, even when you don't want to be nice, it would mean you don't come first. Well, it's a chance I'm willing to take. I'm still interested, okay. I don't expect you to be nice all the time. I'm saying I accept that. No, I'm saying it's part of your fascination for me somehow. You're very upfront about all this. You're obviously a very dominant personality. You're difficult and you make no bones about it. I don't know why, but it's part of what makes you so attractive to me."

"Let's go inside. Let's do it right now," she said, getting out of the car. Since his door wouldn't open from the inside, he waited for her to let him out again. She walked to the front of the car, paused and threw her head back. With her hands she smoothed her hair. Continuing the motion, she ran her hands down her body from her shoulders to her thighs, then turned toward him with an expression that smouldered. She continued to his side of the car and opened the door for him. Before he could get out she was headed to the front door. He followed, watching the sway of her hips. He was still a little wobbly. When he got to the door took his arm, guiding him through the door. They came into a small mudroom. There was a bench by the door with a pile of assorted shoes next to it.

"Outside shoes aren't allowed. Take them off, and your socks too," she insisted. He started to ask why but thought the better of it. He sat and removed his shoes, leaving his socks tucked inside. She kicked her shoes off and stepped into a pair of sneakers.

He was about to ask for something to put on his feet when she took his arm and guided him forward. The place was fairly large and nicely finished. He saw a large living room and a dining area furnished with a big table and fine chairs. Over the table was an interesting looking modern chandelier. It all looked very expensive. They crossed the hallway and went through a door that led to steps down to a furnished basement. It was a large room with leather couches and dark wood paneling. At one end was an alcove with a bed in it that protruded just a little into the main room. Around the alcove were floor to ceiling cabinets. There was a wet bar on the opposite wall. The floor was nice linoleum tile. It was cool against his soles.

2. Caught in the Web

"Sit, while I make you some chocolate," she instructed, walking to a wet bar. "Chocolate is a great pick me up, or pick you up in this case. Lots of caffeine and especially the way I make it. I want you fully awake for the next several hours."

In a few minutes she handed him a steaming cup. The hot liquid was very thick and had a powerful chocolate flavor. It wasn't very sweet.

"To a very interesting evening," she offered, touching her cup to his. She downed hers and he felt it was only appropriate to do the same. "OK, here's something that's really interesting," she continued, withdrawing a pair of handcuffs from her pocket and holding them up. "Have you ever played with these before? Hold out your wrists and I'll show you how they work."

"Hold on. I'm not sure this is something I'm interested in."

"Have you ever been handcuffed? For entertainment, that is. I'm not asking about your arrest record."

"No, and I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"How do you know unless you give it a try?" Her tone was taunting.

"I just don't know if it appeals to me."

"I think you're just scared of this, aren't you? I may have misjudged you. Are you really too much of a coward to try something new? I thought you were interested in what I like to do. I like putting a guy in handcuffs. But, if you're too scared to try it out ..."

"No, I'm not scared," he exclaimed. "I'm perfectly willing to try new things. It's just that..."

"Good," she replied, snapping a cuff on his wrist.

"Wait a minute. I didn't agree you could do that." He tried to jerk his hand away but she held on to the other cuff. He looked down at the steely ring around his wrist. It felt strange. He could twist his wrist inside the cuff, but it was too tight to pull his hand through. The metal felt hard and cold against his skin.

When he looked up the expression on his face showed fear, surprise and excitement. Math's smile declared victory.

"I don't know about this. I think maybe you should take it off and then we can talk it over, ok?" John urged.

"Excuse me. What about all those things you said a few minutes ago, about you being willing to do what I want to do? Were you just saying what you thought I wanted to hear? Okay, let's get my car and I'll take you home." She stood up and pulled on the handcuff.

"Wait a minute. I didn't say I won't go along with this. I just want to know why you want me in handcuffs. I don't think that's out of line," he demanded, trying to put her on the defensive. "Why don't we try me handcuffing you?"

"Oh, I see. This is what you meant when you said you'd do what I want. Except not quite what I want. Sort of, what I want, but the opposite, huh?"

"You're the one who brought up the idea of handcuffs."

"And you're the one who said he was putting himself in my hands. And, who said he liked me being in control of the situation. But not exactly. Because, if I do handcuff you, you'd be a lot less in control, and I'd more in control. So now it doesn't seem like such a good idea to do what I want, contrary to what you said when you wanted me to invite you in. If so, time for us to take you home."

"No, I don't want to leave. I'm just kind of nervous, that's all. I don't need to be in control. I was just trying to make a point, okay? Handcuffing someone is pretty extreme. Yes, I'm kind of nervous about it. You'd feel the same way if it was you we were talking about being handcuffed."

"Aha! You are scared of me. You are! Scary me!" she teased, grinning at him. "But maybe you should be scared. Remember, as I told you, I'm not always very nice. With you in handcuffs, I really could take advantage of you. Is that scary? But it's also part of the thrill, isn't it? But let's not push it too far at least not to start. I understand how you might feel nervous. So, let's not rush into anything too scary right away. This is just something we're trying out, right? How about this: since it's your first time with handcuffs, let's do it with your hands staying in front. Being cuffed with your hands in front isn't such a big deal. It's not like having your hands cuffed behind your back where you really wouldn't be able to protect yourself at all. With your hands in front we'll just link them together but you'll still be able to use them pretty well. Yes you'll still be handcuffed but with your restraint being pretty much symbolic compared to something more effective where you'd actually be helpless. Or, are you too much of a coward to even try hands cuffed in front?"