Winter Scene

1.They had chatted, online and on the phone, for weeks before he drove upstate. He liked her wit, her intelligence, and her thoughtful ideas on her life as a naturally dominant woman. She liked their compatibility in other ways, and his willingness to explore new sides of himself. He had been driving for hours now, with a stop at the highway rest area, his mind racing with new ideas but no scene mapped out, just a first meeting, and his hopefulness.

They met as planned, at a country inn restaurant known for its new and adventurous chef and an interesting menu. As they talked about the menu, he mentioned his choice of chicken or beef, without green vegetables, and she ordered fish for both of them, reaching across to feed him Brussels sprouts which he took as she fed him. The food was delicious, and the late afternoon crowd had dwindled as the ordered coffee. He was surprised when after a wide ranging conversation she smiled slightly and reached into her purse, handing him a drugstore pill bottle with no label. He smiled back lightly, taking the amber plastic bottle with a questioning look.

"David, you have a lot of interests, and you talk a good game-but as a real submissive this is where it begins, if you want it- something real, not some online scene. Fill it now." He looked back, his mind forming a question. "It should be obvious, take this container, fill it with your cum, for me, just because I asked. Go to the restroom, you have five minutes before I leave you here." She was still smiling lightly, but with a hard edge visible in her gray eyes now.

He felt his face heat as he flushed, the small bottle in his hand, leaning across the lunch table. He started to speak, then caught himself, and awkwardly slid his chair back. He felt her gaze as he went across the room and down the hall. In the small men's room, he was alone, feeling like a foolish teenager. Her request was ridiculous and humiliating too, but he found himself hardening as he thought about it. With a sharp breath, he slid his pants down and began, keeping a visual image as he pumped himself, trying to get past the feeling of strangeness, suddenly spurting into the small container as he imagined his new role.

When he returned to the table, the dining room had almost emptied, and he handed her the still-warm bottle he had carefully capped, a specimen of his real submission. He tried to meet her gaze as he sat; embarrassed that she now knew the depth of his feelings and his need. She had ordered coffee and the check while he was gone, and she reached across the table to uncap the bottle and pour the milky fluid into his coffee, where it swirled on the surface. "You need to finish the coffee now, David, so we can get going." He looked, still with nothing to say, and took the cup, tasting the bitter musky flavor as he drank it and felt it coat his lips and tongue.

2.It was cold as they stepped outside, pulling their coats around them. She took the car key from his hand and led him to her car, a steel gray German sedan, and opened the door for him to slide in. "Your car will be alright here, leave it." She stopped at the trunk as she came around the car, and as she got in handed him a small bag. "Here, put these on now." He found a pair of well-worn leather cuffs in the bag, dark leather with rings and buckles, and awkwardly fitted them to his wrists as she started the car and adjusted the heat. She pointed to the headrest, and he realized his hands had to go up and behind it, where she linked the cuffs together. She smiled a little as she reached across his body to fasten his seat belt, then reached back to open his shirt and trace his nipple with her fingernails. As she drove the country roads in the darkening afternoon, from time to time she reached to touch him but said nothing. He thought about his new role, cuffed and restrained, just accepting it.

3.When they stopped, it was in the gravel drive of a large Victorian house set off by itself in a small crossroads town, well back from the road. It was white and gray, with tall Italianate windows and a porch, and a barn-like garage in the yard behind it. A small wooden plaque next to the door said "Whitehall", which could have been a name or a place. It was late fall, with few leaves left on the trees and shrubs, and a dusting of snow on the ground. She opened the door and laughed "Stay here" as she got out and went to the house. He was left sitting, arms aching now behind him, feeling the car get colder as the engine ticked. She came back, to open his door, and unclip the cuffs, taking his arm as she helped him up out of the car. She led him to the rear porch, into a small vestibule with large windows and a cheerful collection of houseplants.

She was very matter-of-fact. "David, put your coat on the hook there, takes off everything else, and folds your things on the shelf by the door. Keep the cuffs on, and put on the things you will find in the drawer under the plant shelf. Then come into the kitchen." She went off into the house, leaving him with the awkward feeling of undressing in someone else's house, in this unromantic way. He still had not said anything, not even sure how she wanted him to address her now. He slipped off the coat, and then his shirt, shoes, pants, everything- standing in front of the large window, seeing himself reflected in it, naked and still cuffed. What he found in the drawer made him pause.

The plastic shell device he realized was a sort of penis cage, fitting around him and keeping his cock curved, clearly painful if he hardened. He felt it snap closed and latch, as he dressed in the other items, a pair of low cut nylon lace panties, dusty rose, and high heeled mules, in cheap sparkly plastic. When he stepped into the kitchen, she laughed and his face got hot. "Perfect, David, just what I need here, a house slave. The first thing you need to do here is clean up."

He looked past her to see a kitchen sink piled with dishes and pans, apparently several days' worth. He stepped to the sink, running hot water and finding the soap and brush. "Don't get the cuffs wet, the leather will shrink and be tighter." She patted him on the ass, then poured herself coffee and wandered away, leaving him to his new chores. He washed and dried, seeing himself in the dark kitchen window, working through the pile of heavily crusted dishes. When she returned, she paused to turn him around and squeezed open small metal paper clamps, which she used to pinch the skin around his nipples, smiling as she saw them harden, and seeing him wince as his hardening cock was trapped by the curved cage.

"Keep going, finish the dishes and we can move on to the training you need, you see now why that cage is called the Humbler; a hard cock is something I don't need here. You have another purpose, Slut"

4.It was fully dark outside when he finished the kitchen, shuffling in the high heels, used now to the pain in his feet and the dull ache of the clamps on his skin and the shell around his cock. She came back to put down her coffee cup and look him over, almost naked in the harsh kitchen light. She pulled his wrists to cuff them behind his back, and then took his arm to walk him into the warmly furnished front room. "I think this is probably not the manly submission of your dreams, hmm David? No leather Domme with a whip, no dungeon full of toys, no hard cock cumming. What we have instead is my choice, not yours- a normal setting, and a woman who sees a panty slut with an asscunt to use, which is all you are. I can take what I want, I can make you cumm without touching that cock, and you will love me for it too."

She roughly flipped the clamps off his skin, pinching his hard nipples as she bent him forward, slapping his ass and pushing him down onto a low table. His panties were pulled down to his knees as she cupped his ass and spread his knees, reaching under him to tug the cock cage. His cock hardened and was instantly painful in the hard curved tube. She pushed his legs wider as he knelt on the table, and slapped his ass hard. He felt her turn away, then suddenly cold gel applied to his small hole followed by a small hard rod, his first time there. The buzzing hum spread through him as she worked it in and out, exciting and humiliating at the same time.

"Prostate stimulation, they call this David, but you will think of it as orgasm without being able to cum. I get to use you, to take your body, and you get, well, nothing. Just the pleasure of giving your body to me." Suddenly the vibrations were deep in his core, and he found himself surging and trembling, with juices dripping now from his soft cock in its cage. She used him again, slower and deeper, enjoying the curve of her body pressed against him as he bent low. When she pulled the vibrator out and rolled him to the side, she bent over his chest, and he found himself offering her his nipples, arching his back to lift them to her mouth, suddenly wanting and aching for her to take them.

When she did, the rake of her teeth brought new pain but caused him to lift and offer them more. He realized now how he felt, for the first time a feminine sort of pleasure in offering his body to her, a giving and the ache of wanting, not the usual focus on his hard penis and taking his pleasure. When he mouth left his skin, he felt the loss. She gave him a slap, and moved away as he slid off the table to stand, pulling the panties back up, over his aching cock in the holder, feeling the flush of orgasm fade. When he turned, she was in her comfortable chair by the fireplace, still dressed and composed, and it felt natural to go to sit on the floor at her feet.

She ruffled his hair, and he loved her now.

5.The first day was a Friday. By Sunday, they had fallen into a new routine. In the house, she kept him naked in panties, with sandals and sometimes a loose sweatshirt for warmth, as he learned to work in her kitchen and laundry. He slept on a padded mat on the floor next to her bed. Saturday morning, she added a chain belt around his waist, locked with one long end which she tucked into the panties, so that he felt cold metal and a cock cage all the time. From time to time, she used him when she chose, anywhere in the house, always the same way, with no cock relief and no contact from his mouth to her face or breasts. He learned to be available for the taking, and to take pleasure in being able to give himself to her when she wanted him.

In the evening, she dressed him normally, over the panties, chain, and cage, and took him in the car to local shops and a tavern, chatting about art and music and travel as they had before. As they ate, one part of his mind was always on his submission, and his availability to her. It seemed natural that she chose the food and wine for him, and fed him tastes of the food she enjoyed.

When they returned the snow was falling lightly in the glare of the headlights, and they laughed together as they rushed from the car to the back porch. She went ahead into the house, leaving him without a word in the cold vestibule as before, with a choice to make. With no instructions, he thought about his new situation, and what he had learned about himself, then once again removed his clothing in the hall and folded it on the shelf. When he walked into the warm living room, she had lit the fireplace and turned to regard him, the one out of place element in the domestic scene: a middle aged man, fair but not great condition, naked except for the panties and chain belt he wore, going to kneel beside her armchair.

"David, I see you know now what you need, and how we do fit together so well. I think this is the real essence of you, under all that professional exterior." She reached down to touch his chest, and he tensed in anticipation, wanting her hand on him. He waited there as she went to the kitchen, and saw when she returned she had a bottle of wine, one wine glass, a shiny steel bowl, and a coiled collar and leash. He held still as she buckled the leather collar around his throat loosely, clipped on the chain leash, and poured his portion of wine into the bowl. There was really nothing to say.

He bent low to bring his face to the bowl, lapping the wine from it, as she sipped hers from the glass and watched him, appraising him now. "David, there is one other thing you need to learn to do well, as the slut you are now." She surprised him by sliding lower in the chintz arm chair, in the warmly lit room in front of a fire, and using the leash to pull him between her legs. She slid her long wool tweed skirt up her thighs, pulling him to her. "Slowly, use your tongue only, be steady, but show me how much you need this, show me the love without words."

He tried to ignore his hardening cock, painful and aching now in its cage, and focus on her scent, the vision of her glowing skin, the taste of her as his tongue slipped in and gently began to stroke her. She held the leash loosely, just a reminder of his role, not a lover, but a servant, not pulling back until she was satisfied. He learned the feel of her, the swollen lips, the hardening clitoris, the ridges and valleys and the musky taste. His face was against her skin, as his tongue found the rhythm and her thighs gripped his head more tightly. There was no sense of time, just his focus on her center, until he felt her tensing and pulsing as her back arched, and she moaned lightly.

When she pushed him away, she put her hand on his head as she stood, her skirt falling back. She smiled as she moved away, with a tug on the leash. "Good beginning David, I can see you need practice but I did feel your wanting, and that is the essential part." She left him to sleep again on the mat, this time with the collar and the leash draped lightly over her bedpost,

6.Sunday morning she made breakfast for herself, feeding him in his bowl with table scraps, but with a loving smile. The day went as the last one had, with him mostly naked and used when she chose, as she chose, each time reminding him that his new role was all about. In the afternoon, she came to him as he worked in the kitchen, doing the last of the lunch dishes.

"David, I know it is time for you to go soon, you need to get back to the city. I hope you will remember what you learned about yourself here- I like your ability to give, and to get past your old shell of masculine authority or whatever. Your real nature here is for me to think of you as something to be filled and used, an asscunt for me, and a slut who needs this and always has it in his mind, with no part of this being about your hard cock. Here, you need these now; I want you thinking about what you are." She handed him a small store bag, and when he opened it he saw pairs of simple nylon panties, obviously his size.

"You need to get dressed now, leave the cage on the shelf, and I want you wearing panties only instead of underwear, now, every day, not just when we chat and talk. Have a good drive back." She left him in the back hall, as he removed the cage and chain he had worn and slid on the surprisingly soft and silky panties, which embraced his body in a new way. His trousers and clothing seemed to glide over them as he dressed, and he felt a sort of lightness and firmness with them under his normal clothing.

During the long drive back he kept thinking of the newness of the feeling, and what wearing them said about his image of himself. That vague self-image of a movie hero, masterful and sophisticated, was fading fast. When he stopped again at the rest area, as he stood in line at the convenience store, he watched the young woman at the cash register as she worked her way through the sales. She was average looking, in her twenties he guessed, wearing jeans and a store jacket with her hair pulled back. His thoughts shifted from the usual male assessment of every woman to a realization that under her jeans she wore panties, just as he did, the same kind of embracing feeling, a light sexiness he thought now, and the same sense of a body waiting to be filled and shared. He saw himself now as Ms. Snow had seen him, and it gave him a new sense of the corner he had turned.

He knew he would be back at Whitehall again.