Domination

"On second thought," I relented, "would you massage my feet?"

He grinned broadly in response. "It would be my pleasure," he said, reaching down to slip my shoes off.

"Hold on," I said, and scooted my chair as far forward as possible.

He gently lifted my feet and rested the left one on his lap as he began to massage the right one. I closed my eyes and sighed, relishing the sensation of his knuckles against the bottom of my foot. The firm but gentle pressure of his hands made me wonder what a full body massage would be like. As I began to relax into the massage, he lifted his right leg, and my foot slipped off his thigh. He caught it between his legs.

"Sorry," he murmured, totally absorbed in touching my foot. His mouth hung open slightly as he concentrated. I wiggled my toes, and was surprised and delighted to find them up against his cock. He was incredibly hard. A thrill went through me, and I felt myself grow even wetter in response. I sighed, then groaned softly as he gently pulled on each toe of my right foot. I wiggled the toes of my left foot slightly, nudging his balls. He appeared not to notice this.

"Mmmm, that feels soooo good," I growled, pushing the ball of my foot against his cock. He jumped a little, but continued his massage, moving up my calf. I grew bolder with my left foot, feeling out the head of his cock as best I could through the thick fabric of his jeans. I silently wished that he had been wearing a thinner, softer fabric - dress pants, maybe.

His hands moved inexorably toward my thigh, fluttering softly along the tops of my stockings. He abruptly slid his chair over to the side of the table, dropping my other foot in the process. I pouted. He continued to run his hands up my leg, snapping the garter gently, massaging the inside of my thigh. Finally, he rested his right hand just shy of my pussy. I knew he must be able to feel the heat and moisture radiating from it.

I sighed involuntarily, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. "Why did you stop?" I whispered.

He glanced to his left. "That guy is watching us," he whispered back. "I think he's getting off on this."

"Let him," I said. "I think I'm getting off on this. Please don't stop..."

He gave me an indecipherable look, his face clouding momentarily. When it cleared, he looked at me with his piercing blue eyes. "Want to go get a drink?" he asked.

It was all I could do not to scream in frustration. "S--sure," I managed to choke out, rising hastily and putting my shoes back on, then shrugging on my coat. "Where to?"

"I know a place," he said. "Come on. I'll show the way."

Chapter Three

After a quick trip on the trolley and a mercifully brief walk, we ended up at a bar and restaurant called Silvertone. It had once been a speakeasy, and it retained that atmosphere: below-ground, dim, with Théophile Alexandre Steinlen prints adorning the walls. We sat on high chairs at the bar. When the bartender sidled over, I ordered a Manhattan.

"Classy," teased Jake, ordering himself a bourbon, neat.

"No, I just want something strong to gird my loins," I retorted.

Before the bartender had set our drinks in front of us, his hand was back on my leg. "Gird them against what?" he asked teasingly, touching the inside of my leg in short, quick strokes. I couldn't tell whether he was enjoying the texture of my stocking or whether he was trying to entice me. I grabbed his hand and removed it.

"Enough of that," I chided. "Don't start something you're not willing to finish."

He put on a chastened expression, then pouted at me. "You're no fun," he said, disappointed. "Haven't we both been waiting for a chance?"

I looked at him sharply. "We're just friends. That's all we've ever been, that's all we'll ever be."

"I'm not suggesting we endanger our friendship. I just thought you were always interested in my...quirks. Weren't you?"

"I was," I admitted, taking the first sip of my drink. It was bracing, and it burned down my esophagus, spreading a different kind of warmth through my belly. I would have to be careful not to do anything I couldn't undo tonight. "But Jake, that ship has sailed. If we were going to do anything, we should have done it when we were in high school. Now it's too...complicated. Back then, you were with Lani. And now..."

"Now...what? We're adults. We're both single. What could be the harm?"

"The friendship, for one."

"Come on, Bec. Don't you feel the tension whenever we're together?"

I startled, then quickly regained my composure. "Yes, but..."

"So why not take advantage of it?"

"Aren't you worried?"

"I really don't think there's anything to be worried about. We should just try it. If it's awkward or whatever, we can stop. I think we owe it to ourselves, after all the years of talk..."

I gulped the rest of my drink and ordered another. We sat in silence for a few minutes. I kicked my heels off and let them clatter to the floor beneath my stool. "My feet still hurt," I said plaintively.

"I can help. Are you hungry? Want to order some dinner?"

I hadn't realized I was starving until he mentioned it. "Yes, actually. Should we get a booth?"

"Sure." Jake gestured to the bartender, then rose and held out a hand to balance me while I put my shoes back on. We took our drinks and claimed a corner booth from which we could people-watch. I was beginning to feel a buzz from the alcohol, and needed to put something in my stomach. After brief deliberation, I settled on a cheeseburger, bloody, and french fries. Jake ordered the same. While we waited for our food, I kicked off my shoes again and rested my feet on the leather seat next to Jake. I wanted him to massage them, but I was feeling confused about the direction in which the evening should go. It would have been an easier decision if we hadn't both been staying with our parents.

As if reading my mind, Jake gently picked up my feet and put them back in his lap. Either he was still hard after Starbucks, or he had become interested again.

"When I was walking behind you," he said, "I couldn't help but notice that your skirt is see-through." He grinned, and took a long drink from his glass. "Tell me that wasn't for me," he teased.

I batted my eyelashes at him, and gripped his erection between both of my feet, jerking him off through his pants. "Maybe it was. I thought you were going to massage my feet?"

He grasped my left foot now, running his thumbs under the sole while his fingers rested on the top of it. I sighed with pleasure, closing my eyes and taking another sip. "Are your loins girded?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmmm...maybe," I replied, once again pressing the ball of my foot against the head of his cock.

"So if you're not interested, what's that all about?" he needled, shifting his pelvis back to allow me better access to the stiff bulge in his pants. "Ah," he breathed, as I began working his shaft just as I had fantasized earlier, stroking it with my toes.

"Just a little friendly reciprocation," I retorted, quickening my foot.

His hands abandoned my foot and stroked my calf, aggressively moving toward my inner thigh. "Are you wet?" he asked, sinking under the table to try to gain access to my pussy.

"What do you think?" I teased, moving my other foot to his groin. I grasped his cock between the two soles of my feet, pressing firmly but gently.

He gasped, then blurted. "Please, Bec, can we just go back to my place after we eat..."

I fixed him with my gaze for a moment before sucking my teeth in annoyance. "With your mom home? Are you kidding me? We're not in high school anymore."

"Please," he groaned as my feet worked under the table. "Please. I'm begging you, Bec."

"No."

"Then - - then let's get a hotel room." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began searching Expedia. "I'll pay."

"Really?" I cocked an eyebrow, continuing to massage his absurdly hard dick with my feet. Then I allowed the pressure to abate, pulling my feet back and wiggling my toes to softly tickle his balls.

"Please don't stop," he gasped. "I'm finding a room now. Please...I just...I just want you to..."

"Just want me to what?" I goaded, lowering my voice an octave. "What do you want, Jake?"

"I want you to use me, Rebecca. I just want you to let me give you pleasure. Please. I'll make you come over and over and over. You don't have to do anything but lay back and enjoy it." I felt his cock twitch beneath the material of his jeans, and I sensed a spot of wetness. "Please. I could come right here just thinking about it. Just please use me," he pleaded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

At that moment, our plates arrived. I pulled my feet from Jake's lap and slipped them back into my shoes. After hungrily attacking the burger, I finished my drink and called the waitress over to order another round.

Jake left his food untouched while he frantically navigated on his phone, no doubt trying to find a hotel room for less than $800 a night on such short notice. "Ah!" he said finally. "How about the Hotel Commonwealth? It's only $600. That will drain my account, but it would be more than worth it."

The thing was, I didn't exactly want to fuck Jake. My feelings were more complicated than that. After losing my virginity at college to a douchebag with a Prince Albert and stretched ears, then moving on to a succession of disappointingly mundane encounters, I had found sex to be pretty standard with every guy. It was as if they had all read the same procedure book:: kiss her neck. Roll her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Breathe heavily in her ear. Finger her. Tear panties off. Insert dick. Cum too quickly. The end. With most of them, I hadn't even come close to an orgasm. But that wasn't what I enjoyed most about it.

The fun part was the chase, really. Or being chased. Or maybe both.

With Jake, it was different. We really were good friends. Over the years, the romantic feelings had waxed and waned. But I had always had an urge to exploit the information he'd divulged - to take advantage of the things that he had told me, to exploit his strange desires, but also to withhold myself from him. I wanted to keep the upper hand at all times, but let his preferences guide me in driving him crazy. It was a different kind of chase I wanted - or something more than a chase. Not a relationship exactly, but a different thing entirely. More like a chess game, only all of my pieces would be queens. And the game would depend on his movements, too, but always end with me winning. Preferably, winning by ending in hours of cunnilingus and whatever else I asked of him. No, demanded. Demanded of him.

He had always talked about men who wanted to relinquish their control to a woman - who wanted to relax into being a mere object. The comfort of submission, he called it. He liked reading forums on Silk Road that specialized in this distinct kind of relationship. Men cleaned houses, he said. They came over dressed in whatever you demanded, and were content to serve as a piece of furniture. You could make them lick your floor clean if you wanted. He had always tried to talk me into trying it, but I had felt reluctant. It was weird, to find some guy on the internet and give him the keys to my house. It would be even weirder to invite a stranger over to massage my feet, or walk around in a French maid costume complete with platform heels. Still, my curiosity about this never left me. It seemed like it could be fun, with the right person. Oral sex on demand? No obligation to reciprocate? Total control of a person? It sounded like the perfect sexual relationship to me.

"Okay," I relented. "The Commonwealth it is. And you're paying for a cab, too."

He finished the transaction, then quickly devoured his burger and fries. I only managed to eat half of mine, but I did finish a third drink. I was definitely feeling drunk, and irresistibly horny. I was positive that I was so wet I had soaked the back of my skirt, and I hoped that it wouldn't show too much while we exited the dim restaurant.

While we waited for the bill, I shamelessly shoved my feet back in his lap, aggressively trying to jerk him off through his jeans. I think he came close, but the sensation was too dulled by the fabric. I knew he would come quickly if my expensive stockings came into contact with the sensitive head of his cock.

He called a cab as we waited, trying to maintain his composure while completing the quick transaction. After we paid, I put my shoes back on and we half-stumbled outside. We were both drunk, but it didn't seem like he would have any problems getting it up. I shook my head, dismissing this habitual thought. He won't get a chance to use his cock tonight, I thought to myself, unless I let him. The sense of control I had filled me deliciously. I could make him do anything. He had begged me. It was a little pathetic, actually, how badly he wanted it. I could tell that none of his past relationships had been successful in this regard by how desperately he had begged. This would be his first experience, too, and that made me a lot less nervous.

When the cab arrived, he climbed in first. It was the kind with a high divider and a plexiglass window between the front seat and the back. Jake reached a hand over and placed it on my thigh, wasting no time in getting to my soaking wet pussy. I suppressed a yelp. His hands were cold. But they felt like sweet relief on the hot, swollen flesh between my legs. My clit felt enormous and erect, and when he brushed his fingers lightly brushed it, I shuddered, involuntarily coming instantly.

"You're so wet," he breathed in my ear. "Did you just come?"

I nodded. "Fuck," he exhaled. "I'm not going to be able to get enough of that."

His fingers fluttered around my clit again, then drifted down to caress the stockings stretched taut over my thighs. He was panting with anticipation. "Please," he gasped, "Bec, just promise that you'll do whatever you want to me. I have no limits. You can even hurt me if you want. I just want you to use me. Please."

His fingers drifted to my clit again, and he easily slid two fingers into my cunt. "Soooo fucking wet," he gasped again. He began to move his fingers in and out, and my muscles clenched around them. He curled his fingers to put pressure on my g-spot, and I exhaled sharply. "I bet you like that," he whispered in my ear, breathing heavily. "Come for me again, Becs. Please. I just want to make you feel good. You are so fucking hot and wet right now. I know you love this." I obliged, and had the strongest orgasm I'd ever had in the back of a cab, the Haitian driver jabbering away on his cell phone while Jake's fingers pressed against that little nub of nerve endings deep inside. He brought me to orgasm twice more in rapid succession before we reached the hotel. After paying the cab driver, no doubt in Rebecca-scented cash, we checked in with the concierge and proceeded to the elevator.

When it arrived, we found it empty. Jake stepped in before me, and I could hear him still panting slightly from the cab ride. He pressed himself against my back, grabbing my hips and pulling me against him, and this time I could feel his erection against my tight ass. He grasped a breast with one hand, and leaned me back against him slightly while his fingers went to work again. I had orgasm number five courtesy of Jake just before the elevator doors opened to a Midwestern-looking couple, who managed to simultaneously express both fear and disgust at two drunken strangers committing sexual acts in an elevator. Jake and I laughed as we ran down the hall to room number 572. He slid the keycard in, and let me in first.

I immediately flopped on the bed. "Goddamn," I sighed contentedly, "I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."

"You don't have to..." he said. "You can have me do anything you want. I'd love to taste that sweet little ass of yours. Or you can just sit me on the floor in front of you and tease me with your feet."

"Well," I said, "my feet do still hurt."

Jake approached the foot of the bed, slipped off my heels, and knelt before my feet. He began kissing the soles, rubbing the rough stubble of his cheek against the fine texture of the stockings.

"Bec - - I mean Mistress - - I am yours tonight. Do with me as you wish."