Lacey Learns

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Lacey begins to learn submission from her new Papa.
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I wasn't quite sure what to think.

I sat in the back of the taxi,twisting my dense brown hair around my fingers--a nervous habit of mine. I had never met a guy online before... especially in a situation like this.

We had met on a fetish website. I had billed myself as someone curious about BDSM, public humiliation and submission in particular. I had never allowed myself to be fully submissive before, and what I had been able to find online fascinated me. I, a woman used to being in control of every aspect, was starting to unravel at the seams. I thought that full submission may be exactly what I needed.

The first several men to message me had seemed creepy, but finally one came up that seemed to... click. He was older--thirty-two to my twenty-two--but unless he was a whiz with Photoshop, he was extremely attractive. He made it very clear that he would only go as far as I was willing and that I could opt out at any time with only a word. Besides the sexual, we really seemed to connect in other ways. We shared a love for Disney movies, bad 80s music, and a little Italian restaurant in our city.

That Italian restaurant wasn't where we were meeting tonight, though; he had instructed me to meet him at an upscale place on the other side of town, somewhere I had never been before. He had suggested my outfit for the night: a form-fitting dress of deep crimson and strappy heels. That had seemed odd to me, but I supposed it was all about submission.

I got out of the cab and stepped into the restaurant. Before I could say a word, the hostess beamed at me. "You must be Mr. Soto's guest," she said brightly. "Come straight with me."

My eyebrows raised, but I followed her. I recognized him before we reached the table: a tan, slender man with dark hair and shockingly blue eyes. He was even sexier than the pictures on the web site had made him out to be.

He smiled at me and stood to pull out my chair. "Lacey. How wonderful to finally meet you." He reached for my hand and kissed my fingertips in a way that had my whole body tingling.

"James," I greeted. "I can't lie. I'm pretty nervous."

He smiled easily. "Don't be. Every single detail is in my hands now. Starting with this one: I'd like you to call me Papa." He laughed at the startled expression on my face. "Remember, Lacey, that if any of this is too much for you, you can step away. No matter how far we go, just tell me you're out and I'll let you go with grace. Now keep in mind that to retreat from part is to retreat from the whole; anything less would put the control in your hands, and that's the opposite of what you want."

I nodded. "I understand... Papa." I had to admit it was strange to me, but I couldn't let it stop here. He was too compelling. This entire idea was too compelling.

Without a word, a faceless waiter brought out white wine and salads with a house dressing before disappearing. "I thought about having this out when you came in," admitted James--I mean, Papa. "But I figured you'd want to watch him pour the drink, as this is our first date. You can't be too careful."

"Thank you," I said with some surprise. "Most guys wouldn't have thought of that."

"I'm not most guys," he answered easily. "You can trust me to take care of absolutely everything. You work from home?"

"Yes," I answered. "I'm a freelance writer for a women's magazine."

"And as such," he surmised, "you don't want word of your being submissive to a man to get out. We can avoid any of your usual haunts. I imagine you'd want to."

"Yes," I said again. "You do think of everything."

"Including the fact that I've packed an overnight bag with all the toiletries you may need, pajamas if you want them, and a change of clothes for tomorrow," he informed me. "You're to come home with me tonight, if you decide to continue our relationship. As this is a new beginning, whether we are intimate tonight will be up to you. Now, the wine is delicious, if you'd like to try some."

Most of the time this would be a huge red flag for me, but somehow I trusted him. And anyway, I had pepper spray in my purse. I nodded.

"Mmm," I said on a sip of wine. It was a far cry from the wine-in-a-box I was used to. I'd had fancier labels before, but this was the best I'd had.

"Drink up," he offered, though somehow I knew it was more of a command. "Have you followed my instructions for our date, Lacey?"

His instructions had been this: I was to avoid using the restroom after noon, and drink at least a bottle of water and a cup of coffee. I was to wear black, lacy (ha ha) underwear and a matching bra with no extra padding (not that my C cup breasts really needed it). I was to keep my nails unpainted and avoid jewelry.

"Yes, Papa," I answered. "Though I have to admit I don't know why you wanted... the part with the drinks and everything."

"Why I wanted you not to use the restroom and to drink more?" he offered, and I nodded, embarrassed a little. "I want you to understand, Lacey, that every aspect of you will be under my direction. Everything from when you eat and sleep to when you use the bathroom, and what you wear. From your description of yourself, you keep your life under strict control. I'm teaching you to let go of all of that, and to let me take the reigns, for as long as you choose."

I nod. "Yes, Papa." It made sense. I didn't imagine any of my coworkers would agree, but I was doing this for myself. "Um, may I use the ladies' room?"

"No," he answered. "I want you to prove to me, in this way, that you are as in control of your life and yourself as you say you are. You will not use the restroom until I allow it... and the more you ask, the longer it will be. I can tell you this now: It will not be until we reach my home tonight."

I fought not to squirm in my seat. I had had to go pretty badly for several hours now... but there was no way I was going to lose control of this fundamental act. I tried to only pretend to sip my wine, but he quickly called me out and ordered me to finish the glass.

"After this you will drink only water," he ordered. "I want you to have a clear head on our first night together."

I was grateful for that... surely water wouldn't move through the system as quickly as alcohol. I downed the glass of wine, then fought to distract myself.

I hadn't known what quite to expect on our date, but much of our conversation was surprisingly normal. We liked the same baseball team, and lamented their recent loss. He talked about his work--he owned a small financial firm. For awhile, it was easy for me to forget the strange situation I was in.

I couldn't forget my bladder. I was near ready to burst when Papa stood from the table and asked me to dance with him.

I practically leaped out of my chair. Standing had to be better than sitting regarding the pressure on my bladder. But about halfway through the song I realized there was no way I'd make it much longer.

"Papa," I whispered desperately into his ear, "I know I'm not supposed to ask but--"

"No," he said firmly.

"I'm not going to..." I couldn't finish my sentence, years of strict control and humiliation clamping my throat shut.

"Not going to make it much longer?" he asked gently. I nodded, embarrassed. "Don't worry, Lacey. I will take care of you. Let's go home."

The car ride was part torture, part pleasure. He had a (relatively) small limousine waiting for us, and the driver dutifully raised the privacy screen as we slid into the backseat. "Is this yours?" I asked in awe.

"Yes," he said with a smile. "One of my favorite luxuries. I have a feeling that you, my dear Lacey, are going to be another."

His hand danced along my thigh at the edge of my dress. I forgot my bladder momentarily as a flush came over my body.

He leaned in close, breathed on my neck and had me shuddering. When he kissed it, everything tingled.

His hand edged up slowly, slowly as he kissed my neck. I had never let a man touch me on the first date, and found that was exactly what I wanted him to do.

His fingers found the edge of my black lace panties. He skimmed over my already-wet center, making me shudder as a finger danced over my clit through the flimsy fabric. Then, using two fingers, he tugged my panties down my hips and they settled around my ankles.

When he cupped me, I nearly lost control of two things: My sanity, and my bladder.

"Wait," I burst. He pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you telling me to stop?" he asked, all patience.

"No, I just..." I flushed from arousal and embarrassment. "I really need to use the ladies' room and I can't..."

"Yes you can," he reassured me gently. "I won't tease you too hard. It's less than five minutes until we reach the house. Although I told you asking for that would delay it, I'll be kind as it's your first day. You may use the bathroom as soon as we get home."

I thought I could probably handle five minutes. I relaxed and he began kissing my neck again. His fingers gently rubbed circles on my clit, but he kept true to his word not to get too intense and make me lose control.

Still, his hands were so magnificent that I was near orgasm when the car came to a stop. I tugged my panties back up hurriedly. I was more desperate to pee than I had ever been in my life.

I noticed absently that the house was large--not a mansion, but certainly big enough to get lost in. I was too busy trying to hold control of my bladder to pay much attention to it, though.

Papa pulled out his keychain, flipped through his many keys in a leisurely fashion. The knowledge that a bathroom was so near was enough to make me twice as desperate, and I hadn't known that was possible. I had to all but hobble on my skinny heels to fight the pain emanating from my bladder.

As the key finally turned in the lock, it was almost as though a key turned inside me as well. At exactly the same time, I felt my body betray me as a thin stream of pee shot into my panties. I clamped down harder, praying with all I had that I could hold control and Papa wouldn't notice. I couldn't bear to disappoint him, despite having just met him.

He slowly set his coat down on the hook. "Welcome to my humble home," he said, then teased, "Well, not so humble. Make yourself at home, Lacey."

"Where's the restroom?" I blurted out.

"Oh, I'd forgotten," he chuckled. "It's down that hallway. The door at the very end."

All of a sudden, it became very clear that I wasn't making it to the hallway let alone the bathroom. I felt warmth rush down my legs as the pressure in my bladder abated. James--Papa was looking into my eyes, then when I didn't move for a long moment glanced down.

I looked down at the floor, humiliated. For several seconds, I fought and failed to take control as I wet myself. The tight-fitting red dress had a large wet spot down the front, and there was a puddle forming on the hardwood floor at my feet.

I felt tears prick at my eyes. "I'm so sorry," I spluttered. "I don't... I haven't done that since I was a kid." As he looked at me, his face blank, I felt like a kid who had wet her pants in front of the entire class: Humiliated beyond belief. Tears streamed down my face as fast as wetness streamed down my legs. "I'm so sorry," I repeated.

"Lacey," he said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "I was kind to you, kinder than I would have been was this not our first date. I slowed down on touching you, even when I had made it clear I was in control. I allowed you access to the bathroom as soon as we made it home. And still, you failed to control yourself and wet yourself like a small child." He stepped toward me, tipped my chin up and forced me to look into his eyes. I found disappointment there, but also compassion. "It's all right now, Lacey. I told you I would take care of you. It's obvious that that's what you need."

"You don't... you're not going to make me leave?" I asked in surprise. Even as a small part of my mind told me it was James's fault I had had an accident to start with, that he had probably intended it from the start, a new and bigger part of me yearned for Papa's approval and his care.

He laughed gently. "Of course not, my pet. Come on now. We'll give you a bath."

He reached behind me to unzip the dress, slid it down my shoulders. He tsked as he felt the wetness on my black panties, and my skin flushed again with dual humiliation and arousal. He tugged the panties down and ordered me to step out of my shoes. He then lifted me in his arms, the way one would a child, and carried me into the bathroom.

He murmured soothing words as he lathered my skin with perfumed soap. He washed my privates with a washcloth, and somehow it felt anything but sexual. But when he set the cloth aside and slid a hand down my side and over my hip, I felt my breathing start to go sluggish.

His hand slid lazily over my hips, then inner thighs. Finally he began to rub my clit gently, then harder as I started panting. Then he inserted two fingers into me and pumped furiously, bringing me maddeningly close to the peak.

Then he stopped.

I moaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration. He laughed, a long, full laugh that had me falling for him even harder.

"You don't get to cum tonight, Lacey," he told me gently. "That will be your punishment for having an accident. Unfortunately, that means that I don't get to cum tonight either."

"Yes you can," I said, suddenly eager to please him. "We can't have sex or I'll... you know, but I can give you an orgasm."

He nodded in assent and I reached up out of the bathtub to free his cock from his dress pants. He was hard, and he was big. Not so big it was intimidating, but big enough I knew it would bring me worlds of pleasure when the time came.

I took my time in giving him his pleasure. I had always enjoyed giving oral. My tongue skimmed along his shaft, then swirled over his head before I finally took him into my mouth. I went back and forth gently at first, then began sucking furiously as he twitched his hips. I could feel his cock tightening as he got close to the edge, and he started to thrust madly into my mouth as I took in his full length. When he finished, I swallowed every drop of hot, sticky cum, then licked his cock clean.

He zipped himself back into his jeans, then smiled at me indulgently. "Thank you for that, Lacey. I wouldn't have asked that of you, since I don't intend to let you cum tonight."

"I wanted to pleasure you," I answered simply.

"You're taking to your new role very well." I glowed with the praise as he drained the tub, then wrapped me in a towel.

"Come to bed with me, Lacey," he said. "Stay with me tonight."

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AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago

Well written. When will we be rewarded with more?

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
Lacey

can come any time she wants to. All she has to do is cross her legs and squeeze her thighs together--with her natural rhythm. She's a poet and genius afterall.

Then "write a little poem about it." Belle & Sebastain

And William Packard will use it--your poem--in his poetry writing class. And include female students quotes in his intro to a NYQ issue. How disgusting your poem is they say. The girls in the class. "I mean, '19: Narcissicist (sp?)' is just gross." (Paraphrased.)

Another girl: "Covey's just talking about masturbation. We all do it. We just don't want to admit it." Paraphrased.

Girls who wouldn't blink an eye when reading "Portnoy's Complaint." Well, he's a guy. Females just have to hold it in and suffer.

Not. She's never just "held it in and suffered" when there was no reason to. (She tried not to have an orgasm during parts of her pregnancy, afraid of a miscarriage.Until when she was overdue to give birth. Then she just thought, go for it. This baby's late. Come ("cum's" crude, sexist -- I'll fucking talk like an English major if I want. Assholes.) all you want. Now you're just helping things along.

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
I love this story--

it reminds me of Marnie in the movie by that name: paraphrased: Marnie: "I need to freshen up." Mark: "You're fresh enough."

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
I don't care if he wants to have sex with men or whatever--

he's started wearing women's clothes and makeup--sometimes--and the thing is--he doesn't think the kind of being I am is something too degrading for him to be.

Oh. You don't realize most males DO think this? Think again and again.

I don't want to ever again live with another human who will not be willing to BE FEMALE LIKE ME.

p.c.

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
My husband wants to be like me--

with everything it means to be a female--he still wants to be one.

I don't mean like physically changing his sex or anything like that.

I'm just now realizing this. While I'm being freaked out by all this-- I've told him so much about how I've felt so hurt by being female and--yes--culturally--inferior--even in America.

And my husband reveals to me--his secret--that he's all his life had to hide his "feminine" self, in his words his "girl self."

He meant it when he expressed feminist political views.

My psychologist, "Why do think he's telling you this? Pat."

(No. He couldn't REALLY want to be one of the kind I am.)

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