A Professional Man

He was quite simply the picture of a confident, charming, successful, handsome man. Perfectly groomed, his nails cut and filed, every hair in place, his teeth straight and white and his eyes, beautifully deep pools of blue. He was sat opposite me, his suit crisp, his demeanour commanding.

A strong, capable, professional man. It was obvious that the suit had been made for him, and the shirt wasn't off the rack either. His broad shoulders were made to look even broader by the cut of it. The waitress didn't even look at me, not a glance, it was obvious who would be ordering the wine. The commanding and charismatic man opposite me. And he did. With no discussion he chose the Chardonnay and asked for two glasses. At that he put the menu down and turned those baby blue's on me.  I smiled gently, not willing to give away whether the wine pleased me or not. That would be my secret. I could see the hint of concern and curiosity in his otherwise unphased demeanour. He wondered. He didn't know whether I would be pleased.

Looking him directly in the eye I raised my hand to my necklace where I was wearing the key to a padlock. I tapped it three times, just to remind him that his cock was caged, and I was his keyholder. To remind him that whatever it looked like to everyone else I was in control today. My face a picture of innocence and subservience I made him drop his eyes from mine, and in just that gesture I could see that I had lit a fire in his mind. When his eyes returned to mine they were filled with desire, though I couldn't decide whether it was the desire to have me, or to be completely controlled by me.


The wine arrived and of course the waitress poured a small amount into his glass to taste. He made a show of swirling it in his glass, lifting it to the light to see the colour, sniffing it and finally tasting a small amount. He would be punished for that. The show of it. It was unnecessary. I would have been impressed but for the exaggerated way he went about it. There is no need to taste wine to check its not corked, the smell is sufficient, he knew it and I knew he did. I like confidence, I like show, but in his case understated is just more commanding. That was the role I wanted him to play. To be seen to be in charge, knowing all the while he was my plaything.

In any case he nodded, apparently the wine met with his approval . I was quite sure it wouldn't meet with mine. Of all the white wine's he could have chosen Chardonnay is the only one I almost always dislike. Still, on tasting it I was convinced that it was a good Chardonnay, so he knew how to order good wine.


The waitress came back and described the specials to us, smiling at me occasionally but then directing almost all of her attention at him. As she went through them I nodded my approval at a couple of the items, the lamb shank, the stoved chicken. I was sure he missed my signals, but when he ordered for me I was pleasantly surprised. He had noticed my slight nods, and ordered the stoved chicken with seasonal vegetables. I smiled and nodded my approval.

I asked him to tell me about his work. Staring deeply into those blue eyes, I was the picture of an attentive, interested little play thing for him. We discussed the result of the most recent elections in the UK.  I was surprised to find that he was an avid Conservative.  I suppose I shouldn't have been.  We discussed the proposals for offering married couples tax breaks and the cuts to inheritance tax that had been Conservative policy before the Con/Lib coalition.  I probed his support for both, but he didn't read my distaste.  At that I smiled inwardly and tapped the key again. I ran my nail over it and he watched my finger as if transfixed.  I hadn't decided whether to continue this session after the meal, but the idea of correcting his political naivety was starting to entertain me.  I wondered whether he had ever been caged before. He certainly said he was experienced, but my touching the key had his breath speeding and I could see his arousal in his eyes.

Dropping my hands back to the table I asked him about his last holiday. He went to Egypt, on the cruise that I took the previous year. We discussed the monuments, the temples and how it felt to stand on the damn holding back the Nile. At that our dinner arrived, and I notice his surprise, he had forgotten that this was not a date, that he was playing a role. He had started to relax and just enjoy my company. I grinned wickedly at him. One eyebrow raised I speared a carrot viciously, raised it to my mouth and bit into it.

We talked some more over dinner, but he never let down his guard in that way again. He was conscious of the role he was playing, and never dropped into casually chatting. He ordered another bottle of wine during the meal. A much better choice this time. Then time for desert. And he ordered me apple pie with cream. He would pay for that. I hate cream. When it arrived I ate it slowly, savouring every mouthful, thinking about the sort of punishment I would dish out for his failure.

The meal ended and of course he asked for the bill, it was given to him and he paid it. He didn't know what would happen next. I had told him in advance that I may not go back to his room with him, that I might decide to go home. He was booked into a hotel, well really a dungeon cottage.  A mix of thoughts about the evening swirled through my head.  On the one hand he had executed the role I set him remarkably well, and that boded well for other types of play.  Whilst men rarely interested me the power play with this one was erotic.  His political views almost the polar opposite of mine and I liked the idea of mocking them and him when I had him powerless.  On the other I wondered whether it was simply the act of subversion, making a mockery of established gender norms that dinner provided that I had found erotic.  The exhibition of it.  I turned my eyes back to him taking in his face, his shoulders and chest.  For the first time he squirmed under my gaze.  Seeming to want to display his submission outwardly.  I smiled slightly and returned to my thoughts.  His attentiveness had been pleasing, and the though of dishing out some punishment for his failure to order the correct desert and wine was entertaining.

Thoughts of how to punish him appropriately abounded. Obviously the various methods of inflicting pain were an option. My cane, crop, flogger. He wasn't worthy of my hand yet. But that was too simple for this man, and then there was the wine to consider. Sensation play should never follow wine. He should be humiliated. Reminded of his unworthiness to serve, his lack.

I lent into him and he wrapped one arm around me, his hand resting on my waist. Tilting my head up to look into his eyes I told him to call a taxi. Once he had called it I lent further into his embrace, my head resting on his chest. My mind ran through scenario's... this was going to be one interesting weekend...