From Seduction to Submission

by R. R. Greaves

  Again Natalie’s jaw dropped before she regained her self-control, excusing herself to go to the bathroom. When she stood, he stood as well, and as she walked away from the table she was repeating his words in her mind. It would be so naughty. There was nothing overt about that comment, she thought. Why did she find it so damned erotic? On reaching the bathroom, she found she was wetter than she had realized and more than a little flushed. Confused by her feelings, which she seemed to have little control over, she decided to close out her dinner date quickly and get away from this ‘Mr. James’.

  On returning to the table, he stood as she approached, sitting down only when she did. She noted this overt display of old style manners which only served to remind her how rare it was to see such displays these days. She could not help but be impressed. She realized he had already paid the check, and there looked to be a sizable tip on the table. He then stood, smiled and said, “Thank you for being such a delightful dinner companion. I must take my leave.” He held out his hand, which she took and felt his firm hand envelop hers as he gently shook it before kissing the back of it like before.

  “It has been an interesting experience Mr. James,” she replied. With his other hand he held out a business card which she took automatically without taking her eyes off his.

  “Call me.” And he was gone.

  She looked down at the burgundy colored card. In flowery black writing it simply stated his name and cell phone number, but what took Natalie’s interest, and made her heart skip a beat, was the small mask, a pair of dangling handcuffs and a riding crop taking up the left side of the card. She had no intention of calling him and very nearly screwed the card up and left it on the table, but almost without thinking, she threw it into her handbag.

  On her way home, she ran the evening’s events through her mind. She could hardly believe the breathless arrogance of the man. There were a number of things that fascinated her: his looks; his smile; his obvious intelligence. She dug his card out of her hand bag and studied it once again before she crawled into bed, leaving it propped up against her bedside lamp. Turning out the light, she could feel the tautness of her firm nipples as she lay there, one hand drifting down to her newly wet vulva. She held her hand over it, clamping her legs together with Mr. James on her mind, until sleep overtook her. Deep inside her subconscious, she knew she would not be able to resist making that call.

  Chapter 2 – The date

  Natalie awoke before her alarm. As she reached over to turn her light on, her hand hit the card she had left there the night before. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she looked at it once again, and thoughts of last night came flooding back. When she thought about his arrogance and self-confidence and the way she had been treated, she threw the card across the bed in disgust. “He doesn’t deserve me,” she said aloud.

  Stepping into the shower, the jets of water hit her breasts, and although they caused her to startle and jump back, her nipples hardened nonetheless, and thoughts of him flooded back. Wondering about the fact that he had not even touched her except to shake and kiss the back of her hand, she said to herself, “Why am I even thinking about him?”

  As long as it had been since she had been with a man, she thought back to her first close up view of him and smiled. She was not used to gazing into the leather clad crotch of anyone, let alone an attractive man, but she had to admit that it looked quite hot. She wondered if her face was red when she first looked up and met his gaze. She had been taken by surprise, and as she thought about it, she realized it was not done by accident. It was obviously exactly what he wanted to happen and again she could feel stirrings deep inside her.

  Muddling through breakfast, she caught up with the morning news and took care of a few emails before heading off to work. Her day dragged, and more than one of her colleagues noticed her distant look and asked if there was something bothering her. She assured them that everything was fine and continued with her work, but as she spoke to different partners and clients, she found herself absently comparing them to Mr. James. The difference was that she could handle these men, but there was something about the mysterious Mr. James that she was afraid she could not handle. Instead of frightening her, that thought somehow excited her, and she had to work to keep bringing herself back to the here and now.

  With the work day complete, she breathed a sigh of relief and headed home. She entered her one bedroom unit, on the edge of the city between the trolley line and Sea Port Village, and kicked off her shoes. Throwing her handbag on the bed, she went back out to the kitchen and poured herself a cold glass of wine. She looked at the label and noticed it was Chablis. Again she pictured herself looking over at this ‘Mr. James’, slack jawed but still responding to his toast. His boyish smile burnt into her memory, along with that moment where she picked up the hint of steeliness in his voice.

  Heading back to her bedroom, she removed her blouse, carelessly tossing it on the floor with her other laundry. She then loosened her skirt, letting it slip to the floor before bending over to pick it up and hang it back in her closet. She stood there in her bra and panties and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Starting front on, and then turning sideways, before turning as far as she could. She looked back over her shoulder to study her reflection. A combination of genes and hard work had kept her body in quite good shape for her age. As she studied herself, she said aloud, “What’s not to like? Mr. ‘I like people who acquiesce’ can kiss my tight little butt.” She then wondered what she had done with his card. She remembered leaning it against her bedside lamp, but it was no longer there.

  She looked around the bed failing to spot it before dropping to her knees to look under the bed. Still not seeing it, she checked under her pillows, tossing them aside in the process. With a frown on her face, she then reached over and pulled out the top drawer of her bedside table. Still not spotting the card, she dumped the contents unceremoniously on the bed and rummaged through the scraps of paper, hair clips, tubes of skin cream and all manner of other items that found their home there. Still not seeing it, she pushed everything off the bed back into the drawer before returning it to the table. She knew it couldn’t be in the bottom drawer, but she slid it open anyhow. Her favorite vibrating egg and the 8-inch silicone dildo caught her eye – Big Black, she called it in a politically incorrect fashion, but still no card.

  Where could it have gone, she wondered, as she slammed the drawer shut and lay back on the bed? She realized that once again she was flushed and her breathing rate had increased. Was this due to the exertion, or was this to do with her thinking about Mr. James? She leapt up and ripped the bedclothes off, shaking them before throwing them onto the floor. Then she was on her hands and knees on the bed, running her hands around the fitted sheet whose old elastic meant that it did not fit so well anymore. There it was, stuck in a fold of the bottom sheet, just where it had landed that morning as she cast it aside.

  Picking it up, she lay back on the bed as she held it up to read it once again. “Conceited prick,” she said to herself.

  She noticed the lettering on the card was embossed, standing out from the surface. She found herself running her fingers gently over the little handcuffs, then up and down the riding crop. “What the hell does this guy get up to?”

  She then realized her legs had closed and without consciously thinking about it, she was pressing her thighs together. He had said he wanted to see her again. Did she want to see him again? She knew what the answer was even though she was conflicted. She HAD to see him again, or at least to call him to see how this would pan out.

  Having heard about bondage and discipline, or B&D as it was known in the stories she had read, it was unclear to her why anyone would be interested in handcuffs and a riding crop. And what part did a mask play in all of this? A little shudder went through her as she ran this through her mind. She thought back to when previous lovers had held her wrists over her head as they had their way with her and how that temporary feeling of helplessness just a
dded to her excitement. Her right hand drifted down to her breasts, and she gently pinched her nipple though the material of her bra and felt it harden to her touch before moving to her remaining nipple, yielding the same result. She wanted to call him, but she knew she should not call while she was in this frame of mind. She needed to be cool and in control of the call. She could not trust herself at this point.

  Rolling over, she put the card back on the bedside table in front of her phone before opening the bottom drawer of her bedside table. She was not looking and initially her hand closed around Big Black. She thought for a few seconds before releasing it and retrieving her vibrating egg. Holding the egg against the outside of her lace panties, she could feel the moisture that had already darkened the red lace covering her labia. She wound up the variable control wheel with her other hand, and her mind conjured up a vision of Mr. James, his leather clad legs straddling her as he pulled both of her arms up over her head. She imagined the steel handcuffs closing over her wrists as she stared at his bulging crotch, hiding its contents with the layer of black leather that she obviously found so intriguing. The egg was doing its job as it took her where she wanted to go…

  Eventually, she wound back the control to zero and relaxed, her body and mind spent. Mr. James was not a priority anymore, and she only thought of him as a vague and unimportant weirdo. Over the next couple of hours she gave him little thought as she went about her nightly business, but it wasn’t too long before he crept back into her thoughts. She knew enough about herself to realize that he was not simply going away, and because she was wont to make decisions early, sometimes regretting them later, she decided she was going to call him.

  Because it would be a phone call, she would have control in that anytime she felt uncomfortable she could simply hang up, and that would be the end of it. She also reasoned that because he had maintained so much control over last night’s activities, actually total control, she would take great delight in giving him some of his own treatment back. She would see who would acquiesce to whom.

  After finishing dinner and her usual single glass of wine, she decided another glass was not unreasonable under the circumstances. As she sipped the second glass, she was feeling a little buzz. That’s when she decided she had to make the call. She had thought a lot about it and had run different scenarios through her mind. “We’ll see who controls the conversation this time,” she said to herself as she picked up the phone.

  She made herself comfortable on her bed before dialing the cell phone number on the card. Her fingers were shaking as she sought out each button. Before the connection was made, she hit the off button and slammed the phone down onto the bed beside her. Why is he affecting her this way? Then she thought about it and she knew that he was not like most other men.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and hit redial, and this time she persevered. It rang a number of times, and just as she was about to hang up, it answered.

  “Hello Natalie. I’m glad you called. I have been waiting.” She was confused. Firstly, she heard the Australian drawl but it was all part of a combination of words that she was not expecting to hear.

  “H...Hello James…uh… Mr. James.”

  “I am glad you were paying attention last night when I told you to call. I was beginning to think that I may have been reading you incorrectly.”

  She could feel herself blushing. She retorted angrily as she tried desperately to get the upper hand, “And just how were you reading me, Mr. James?”

  “I found you fascinating to be with. You are a beautiful woman and obviously intelligent. You look after yourself, and you looked great in that little black dress. You looked like someone who would rise to a bit of a challenge. Someone with a bit of fire in their belly. I like women like that. They impress me.”

  Just as her defenses were under attack, and she was trying valiantly to maintain her anger, he finished with that. “So I impress you!” she almost spat.

  “As a matter of fact, you do.” Listening to his voice she could picture him sitting across from her with that half smile and the somewhat detached look. “It is not often that I meet someone with as much spirit as you. So much so, that I would like to see you again. Tomorrow at my place for supper. Please be here at 8pm. I will text you the address.” The phone went dead.

  “What… wait… Aarrrrgggghh!” she almost screamed as she slammed the phone down again. She could almost feel her blood boiling at the way she had just been treated. The arrogance- the prick! As she lay there slowly regaining her composure, once again she realized her nipples were hard, and she was feeling the familiar stirrings between her legs as she clenched them together. Just as she had decided that she was not going to be one of Mr. James’ conquests, there was the trill of her phone telling her she had received a text. She stared at the phone for a full minute before snatching it up and looking at the message. It read simply: 118 Harborview Cres, Hillcrest. Apartment 8. Wear something in leather. She deleted the message.

  Sitting at her computer later, after trying fruitlessly to finish some work, she went to Google maps to have a look at the address he had forwarded, despite having deleted it from her phone. It was in an up market part of town. She looked at the street view, impressed by the opulent exterior of his apartment building, before she shut down her computer and went to bed.

  Awaking after a fitful night’s sleep, Natalie realized that Mr. James was never far from her mind. Despite his continued presence, her working day actually went quite quickly, and before long she was in her car heading home. She found herself wrestling with the thought of whether she would head out for supper, or whether she would have a quiet night at home by herself. It wasn’t that she was concerned about her safety in the presence of this man. He was obviously known at the restaurant and his address was in a busy and highly sought after part of town. No. There was something else that was bothering her, and after some self-reflection she realized it was her that she was scared of. She was afraid she might see, and experience, something that she liked, something that she had been unconsciously yearning for.

  After eating a light snack, she called a trusted friend, Jo-Anne, and asked her to make a safe call. On giving her the address of Mr. James she asked for a call at 9:30pm. Jo-Anne was happy to help out and reminded her of their secret code word, apples, to confirm that everything was ok. If there was no answer to the call, she would send a text message. If she did not get a reply within five minutes and if the secret code word was not used, Jo-Anne should send for the police. Jo-Anne knew better than to ask too many questions as they had both done this a number of times over the years, and she knew she would hear many of the details later, be they good or bad.

  Natalie took a long hot shower, shaved her legs and then applied the minimum make up before dressing. By the time she was finished, there were four different dresses strewn over the bed, and she had tried three different pairs of panties before deciding on what she would wear. Although Mr. James would not even be seeing her panties, let alone getting inside them, the ritual of selecting the right ones made her feel good.

  It empowered her just knowing what she was covering; effectively wrapping herself in a package that she was fairly confident he would be maneuvering to unwrap as soon as he could. This time, however, she would be holding all the aces. With a good understanding of the way the average male mind worked, she would use that knowledge to her advantage. It would be her who would decide if the seeds of this relationship germinated, or whether it simply withered on the vine from the start.

  His final instruction helped her decide what to wear, and she decided on jeans instead of a dress. She pulled on a pair of high-waisted denim jeans. A white tailored cotton blouse enhanced her trim figure and ample breasts without sending the wrong message. She finished the outfit with knee high black leather boots with 5-inch heels. As she walked around her apartment, the boots gave her a feeling of confidence and power. She knew that there would be men everywhere who would salivate at the s
ight of her walking by dressed like this, her hips swaying as she strode along in those heels. Yes– this was a power outfit. Still and all, there was something in the back of her mind that told her she should be prepared for the unexpected. Mr. James was certainly no ordinary date and if anything, she was going to be in the lion’s den.

  The rush hour traffic had eased as she made her way towards Hillcrest. She found the apartment without much trouble, parking on the street about fifty yards from the entrance. She was about fifteen minutes early, and as she alighted from her car, she realized she was quite nervous. She took a number of deep breaths before walking up the street, away from the apartment, to kill some time.

  Eventually, she made her way back to the entrance of the building, arriving there at 7:56pm. Although hesitant, she pushed the intercom button and heard it buzz. There was no response. She gave it a minute or two, trying to decide what to do. Is this some sort of sick joke she wondered. Have I got the right place? She checked her phone again, probably for about the tenth time as she looked around, wondering what to do. She checked her watch and saw that it was now right on 8pm. Trying the intercom once again, there was no verbal acknowledgement, but the entry door clicked open, and after looking around to see if there was anybody about, she entered the building.

  Taking the elevator to the fourth level, she glanced around the atrium lobby and identified his apartment. Quickly checking herself over, she took another deep breath, squared back her shoulders and knocked firmly on the door. The door opened and the sight that greeted her took Natalie’s breath away. Mr. James looked even nicer than she had remembered him as he stood there in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt with a black leather vest over the top. The vest was open and hung loosely over his lean frame. He wore simple black ankle-high boots to complete the outfit. He was smiling as he held out his hand in greeting. As Natalie offered her own up, he gently took it and bowed to kiss the back of it. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said simply. “Please come inside.”