A Strong, Independent Woman

Please note that while firmly a lesbian story, this contains significant elements of surrender and submission...

The townhouse was filled with the sound of conversation and laughter, the guests happy that Friday was here and the weekend stretched ahead, the warm glow of the host's assortment of period lamps casting shadows across the ornate Victorian features. Caitlin sipped her gin and tonic, surveying the gathering with the same analytical eye that she applied to a client's financial reports in her role as a strategy consultant.

Six months into her senior consultant position and on the fast track to partner while still in her twenties, her life was panning out just as she'd planned since her Cambridge days. Everything in Caitlin's life proceeded according to schedule and under her control, everything... professional, personal, all of it.

She maintained control, established boundaries, and never deviated from her carefully constructed path. Woe betide anyone who got in her way.

Single as she had been for most of her professional life, she didn't really mind... most men couldn't cope with a strong, fiercely independent woman like her. Those who tried to fight fire with fire were soon cast to one side, while those who were willing to take a more subservient role in a relationship didn't last much longer.

Fiercely loyal to her friends, she would go to the ends of the earth and back for them... but it took a lot for someone to earn that epithet.

"There you are!" Emma, her university friend and the party's host, appeared at her elbow. "Come and meet Virginie... she's just arrived from Paris. I've told you about her, remember? My friend from my year in France?"

Caitlin did remember. Emma's stories about Virginie, Emma's fellow student turned academic, had always seemed rather exaggerated, tales of a woman who lived entirely by her own rules, who commanded rooms without effort, who had both men and women falling at her feet. Caitlin had always found these stories ridiculous, the product of Emma's tendency toward dramatic embellishment, and felt something approaching pity for the men and women in the stories if they were really true.

"Of course," Caitlin said with a cool smile, allowing herself to be led through the crowded living room.

She spotted Virginie before Emma could point her out... it would have been impossible not to. The Frenchwoman stood by the fireplace, gesturing animatedly as she spoke to an enraptured small group. A similar age to Caitlin and Emma, her dark, almost black hair cascaded down her back, catching the firelight with each movement. She wore a simple black dress that somehow looked anything but simple on her tall, toned, elegantly curved frame.

"Virginie," Emma called, "this is Caitlin, my friend from university I mentioned."

When Virginie turned, Caitlin felt an unexpected jolt. The Frenchwoman's eyes, deep brown with flecks of amber, seemed to see right through her professional composure and her face... she wasn't just beautiful, she was beautiful in a way that you rarely encountered. Even as someone who had never had any interest in women, Caitlin could understand why many would be attracted to Virginie.

"Ah, the brilliant consultant," Virginie said, her accent strong. She extended her hand, but instead of the expected handshake, she clasped Caitlin's fingers and held them a moment longer than social convention dictated. "Emma tells me you're quite the force of nature in your work."

Caitlin withdrew her hand with deliberate casualness. "I work hard," she replied, her tone clipped and professional. "Success isn't particularly mysterious."

"Is that so?" Virginie smiled slightly in amusement. "Then perhaps you can explain why so many who work equally hard fail to achieve what you have."

"Better strategy. Clearer focus," Caitlin countered, irritated by the implied challenge. "And a refusal to be distracted by... irrelevancies."

"And what do you consider irrelevant, I wonder?" Virginie asked, her gaze too perceptive for comfort.

Before Caitlin could respond, Emma was called away by another guest, leaving the two women alone. The departure of her buffer left Caitlin momentarily wrong-footed, but she recovered quickly.

"I've heard quite a bit about you," Caitlin said, deciding to seize the initiative. "Emma seems to think you're something of a free spirit."

Virginie laughed... a rich, genuine sound that drew glances from nearby guests. "That's a polite English way of saying what, exactly?"

"That you enjoy... experimentation," Caitlin said, arching an eyebrow. "Particularly in your personal relationships."

"While you prefer control," Virginie observed, unruffled by the implied criticism. "In all aspects of your life, I imagine. How exhausting that must be."

"Not at all," Caitlin retorted. "I find it efficient. Effective."

"And satisfying?" Virginie challenged, her voice dropping slightly. "Does your efficiency leave room for satisfaction, Caitlin?"

Caitlin felt a flash of anger at the presumption. "I don't require advice on my personal fulfilment, thank you. Particularly not from someone who..."

"Who what?" Virginie interrupted calmly, stepping closer. "Who lives authentically? Who recognises that power and surrender are two sides of the same coin?"

"Who mistakes impulse for authenticity," Caitlin finished, holding her ground despite Virginie's proximity. "Control isn't a limitation. It's a strength."

For the next hour, they circled each other verbally... matching wits, challenging assumptions, neither willing to cede ground. With each exchange, Caitlin found herself simultaneously irritated and exhilarated. It had been years since anyone had matched her so effortlessly, had pushed back against her assertions with such confidence. She realised, with surprise, that she was enjoying being challenged so much more than usual.

"You're smiling," Virginie observed after a particularly sharp exchange about corporate ethics. "You enjoy the battle."

"I enjoy being right," Caitlin countered, though she couldn't deny the unexpected rush of pleasure she felt in their sparring.

"You enjoy the engagement," Virginie corrected. "The push and pull." She paused, then said, "The tension."

Something in her tone made Caitlin's body react, her heart beating a little faster. "You make it sound rather suggestive."

"All meaningful encounters are suggestive of something deeper," Virginie said, her gaze unwavering. "The question is whether we have the courage to explore what lies beneath the surface."

As the evening progressed, they migrated from the main room to a quieter alcove where bookshelves lined the walls. Virginie moved with confidence, selecting a bottle of wine from Emma's collection.

"Do you always help yourself to other people's belongings?" Caitlin asked pointedly.

"Emma and I have an understanding," Virginie replied, unperturbed. "Some friendships transcend ordinary boundaries." She poured two glasses without asking if Caitlin wanted one. "Much like our conversation tonight."

"We're hardly friends," Caitlin said, but accepted the glass nonetheless.

"Not friends, no," Virginie agreed. "Something far more interesting."

"Opponents?" Caitlin suggested with a sardonic smile.

"Dance partners," Virginie corrected, stepping closer. "Moving together, even in opposition."

Caitlin forced herself to stand her ground, though some instinct urged her to step back from the sudden intensity between them. "I don't dance to anyone else's choreography."

"Don't you?" Virginie asked softly. "Then why are you still here, engaged in this conversation, when you could easily have re-joined the main party?"

The question struck uncomfortably close to thoughts Caitlin had been avoiding. Why had she allowed this conversation to continue? Why did she feel simultaneously compelled to challenge and impress this woman she'd just met?

"Perhaps I find your presumption amusing," Caitlin said, her voice not quite as steady as she would have liked.

Virginie smiled, not a polite social smile but something wilder, more knowing. "Perhaps you find it compelling. Perhaps you wonder what it would be like to surrender that iron control, just once, with someone strong enough to match you."

"I don't surrender," Caitlin said sharply, the wine glass suddenly unsteady in her hand.

"Everyone surrenders to something, Caitlin," Virginie said, taking the glass from her and setting it aside. "The question is whether you choose your surrender or whether it chooses you."

"That's absurd," Caitlin said, but her voice had lost its certainty. "I've never..."

"You've never met someone who sees through your carefully constructed façade," Virginie completed the thought. "Someone who recognises the fire you keep hidden beneath all that control."

Virginie reached out and tucked a strand of Caitlin's light brown hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering against Caitlin's cheek. The touch was as light as a feather but sent an electric current racing down Caitlin's spine.

Caitlin jerked back, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What are you doing?"

"Testing a theory," Virginie said calmly. "Your mind is always working, analysing, calculating. But your body... your body knows what it wants before your mind will admit it."

"You're being ridiculous," Caitlin said, but her voice caught, betraying her inner thoughts.

"Am I?" Virginie asked, stepping forward again, crossing the distance that Caitlin had created. "Then why are you trembling?"

"I'm not..." Caitlin began, but the lie died on her lips as Virginie's hand came to rest lightly on her waist.

"You can continue to fight this," Virginie said softly. "You can maintain the fiction that you're unmoved, uninterested. Or you can acknowledge what's happening between us and discover where it leads."

The rational part of Caitlin's brain, the part that had guided her through degrees and promotions and careful yet short-lived relationships, signalled frantically that this was the moment to reassert control, to put this presumptuous woman firmly in her place. Instead, she found herself frozen on the spot, caught between conflicting impulses.

"I don't do this," she said weakly. "I'm not interested in women. I never have been."

"Perhaps not," Virginie acknowledged. "Or perhaps you've never permitted yourself to explore the possibility. The question is whether you're brave enough to find out."

Caitlin felt as though she were standing on the edge of a precipice, looking down into depths she had never allowed herself to contemplate. Every instinct for self-preservation urged her to step back, to retreat to familiar ground. Yet something else, something new and undeniable, kept her rooted in place.

"I'm not easily led," she warned, her final attempt at resistance.

Virginie's smile deepened. "I would be disappointed if you were."

For a long, long moment they stood regarding each other, Virginie looking confident and certain, Caitlin looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself, her cheeks flushed. The tension between them was palpable.

Then Virginie spoke, her voice gentle but firm. "Come upstairs with me."

It wasn't a question, but neither was it a demand... it was an invitation, offered with absolute confidence. For Caitlin, it represented everything she had systematically removed from her life... spontaneity, risk, surrender.

"Why would I do that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you want to discover what exists beyond the boundaries you've drawn for yourself," Virginie said simply. "Because for once in your life, you want to know what it feels like to let someone else take the lead."

Caitlin stood balanced on the knife-edge of decision, her carefully constructed certainties crumbling around her. Then, with a sense of stepping off a precipice, she made her choice.

"Yes," she said, a single syllable that somehow felt like both defeat and victory all rolled up into one.

Virginie held out her hand. "Follow me," she said.

And Caitlin, for perhaps the first time in her adult life, followed without calculation, without analysis, guided only by the unfamiliar but undeniable certainty that she wanted... no, needed... to discover what lay beyond the boundaries she had drawn for herself.

The third floor of Emma's townhouse was quieter, the sounds of the party reduced to a distant murmur.

Caitlin caught sight of herself in a mirror as she walked down the landing and was almost surprised to see that it was her looking back... the same tall, slim figure, the same smart, figure hugging dress and high heels, the same strawberry blonde hair cut to shoulder length, the same attractive, friendly, even cute as she'd been told several times, face that had taken so many men by surprise when they'd discovered the controlled, fiercely independent woman beneath.

Virginie led Caitlin to the end of the corridor, where a door stood partially open. Warm light spilled out onto the hallway's polished wooden floor.

"Emma let me stay in her spare room for the last week," Virginie explained, pushing the door fully open. "I fly back to Nice tomorrow."

Caitlin hesitated at the threshold, her mind racing. What was she doing here? Following a virtual stranger to a bedroom at a party? This wasn't like her, wasn't anything like the carefully controlled life she had constructed.

"Second thoughts?" Virginie asked, her voice carrying no judgment, merely curiosity.

"I should go back downstairs," Caitlin said uncertainly, but making no move to leave.

Virginie stepped into the room, leaving the choice to follow entirely up to Caitlin. "You are free to do as you wish. That's the irony you haven't yet grasped... true surrender begins with complete freedom."

The paradox in Virginie's words tugged at Caitlin's intellectual curiosity, pulling her forward into the room despite her reservations. She had always prided herself on her logical mind, her ability to dissect complex problems. Perhaps she could approach this as an intellectual exercise, understand this woman's philosophy, then return to the comfortable certainties of her own life.

The bedroom was simply furnished but transformed by Virginie's presence. A silk scarf draped over the bedside lamp cast the room in amber light. A bottle of perfume and several books were arranged on the dresser. A leather jacket hung over the back of a chair.

"You've made yourself at home," Caitlin observed, remaining near the door.

"I inhabit spaces completely," Virginie corrected, moving to stand by the window. "Another thing you might learn to do."

Caitlin bristled at the implied criticism. "I'm perfectly capable of inhabiting my own life, thank you."

"Are you? Or do you merely administer it?" Virginie turned to face her fully. "There's a difference between living a life and managing one."

"That's presumptuous," Caitlin said sharply. "You know nothing about my life."

"I know what I see," Virginie replied. "A woman of extraordinary capability who holds herself so tightly she can barely breathe."

Caitlin crossed her arms defensively. "And I see someone who confuses impulsivity with authenticity."

Virginie smiled, seemingly pleased rather than offended by Caitlin's retort. "Good. Hold your ground. Challenge me. I would expect nothing less."

She gestured to the small sitting area by the window, a pair of wing backed chairs with a small table between them. "Sit with me." She paused and smiled slightly. "Unless you're afraid of where a simple conversation might lead."

The transparent challenge worked exactly as intended. Caitlin moved forward and took one of the chairs, her posture rigid with tension. "I'm not afraid of a conversation."

"Of course not," Virginie agreed, taking the opposite chair, sitting in a much more relaxed pose than Caitlin. "You excel at verbal fencing. It's the unspoken that unnerves you."

In the amber light, Virginie's features seemed both softer and more intense. Her dark eyes never wavered from Caitlin's face, studying her with an interest that felt both clinical and intimate.

"Tell me something true about yourself," Virginie said suddenly. "Something you rarely share."

Caitlin let out a short laugh. "I hardly think..."

"Don't think," Virginie interrupted gently. "For once, just respond. Tell me something true."

Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of the request, or the intensity of Virginie's gaze, but Caitlin found herself answering before she could construct her usual careful response.

"I'm lonely," she said, then immediately wished she could recall the words. They hung in the air between them, more revealing than she had intended.

Virginie nodded, neither rushing to fill the silence nor offering platitudes. "Even when surrounded by people who admire you." She paused. "No man is ever enough for you, never worthy of you."

"Yes," Caitlin admitted, then with a spark of her usual defiance, added, "Though I don't see how that's relevant to anything."

"It's relevant because it's true," Virginie said simply. "And truth is the foundation of what happens between us."

"Nothing is happening between us," Caitlin countered quickly, yet even to her own ears, the protest sounded hollow.

Virginie leaned forward slightly. "Remove your shoes."

Caitlin blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt command. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your shoes," Virginie repeated calmly. "Remove them."

"Why would I..."

"Because I asked you to," Virginie said, her voice still gentle but carrying an unmistakable note of authority. "Because you came up here curious about what it would feel like to relinquish control, even momentarily. This is how we begin, with something small, something simple."

Caitlin stared at her, torn between indignation and an inexplicable urge to comply. "This is absurd."

"Is it?" Virginie's expression remained serene, patient. "Then you lose nothing by humouring me. And if it's not absurd, if there's something here worth exploring, then you gain insight you've never allowed yourself before."

The rational arguments Caitlin might have marshalled seemed to dissolve before they could fully form, her usually analytical brain addled by this presence before her. She found herself reaching down, removing her heels, and placing them neatly beside the chair. The plush carpet felt soft beneath her stockinged feet.

"Good," Virginie said, and the simple approval sent an unexpected shiver of pleasure through Caitlin. "Now, close your eyes."

"I don't think..."

"That's precisely the point," Virginie interjected. "You think constantly. You analyse. You calculate. For a few moments, I'm asking you to experience instead."

Caitlin hesitated, then slowly closed her eyes, feeling strangely vulnerable without her visual defences.

"Keep them closed," Virginie instructed. Caitlin heard movement, felt the subtle shift in the air that indicated Virginie had stood and was now moving around the room.

"What do you hear?" Virginie asked, her voice coming from somewhere behind Caitlin's chair.

Caitlin concentrated, becoming aware of sounds she had filtered out before, the distant bass line of music from downstairs, the occasional burst of laughter, the soft tick of a clock somewhere in the room.

"The party," she answered. "A clock. Your breathing."

"And what do you feel?"

The question seemed to open something in Caitlin's awareness. She felt the texture of the chair beneath her fingers, the slight chill of the room against her bare arms, and something else... an electric awareness of Virginie's presence behind her.

"I feel..." she began, then faltered, unused to articulating physical sensations without analysis.

"Honestly," Virginie encouraged, her voice closer now, just behind Caitlin's right shoulder.

"Exposed," Caitlin admitted. "Aware. Alert."

"Good," Virginie said, and Caitlin felt a light touch on her shoulder--just the barest brush of fingertips. Even through the fabric of her dress, the contact sent a shock wave through her system. "Stay with that feeling. Don't analyse it, don't label it. Just experience it."

The fingers traced a feather-light path from her shoulder to the nape of her neck, then withdrew. Caitlin found herself leaning slightly toward the touch before catching herself.

"You feel the contradiction now, don't you?" Virginie asked, circling around to stand before her. "The simultaneous desire to maintain control and to relinquish it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Caitlin said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Open your eyes."

Caitlin obeyed immediately, the speed of her compliance surprising even herself. Virginie stood before her, observing her with that same intense focus.

"You can leave at any time," Virginie said. "Walk out that door, return to the party, and continue exactly as you were before. Or you can stay, and discover something about yourself you've never permitted yourself to know."

The choice hung in the air between them. Caitlin knew the sensible decision, the one consistent with everything she believed about herself. Yet she remained seated, her shoes still beside the chair, her heart racing and her breathing faster than usual.

"What would staying entail?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Trust," Virginie answered simply. "Allowing yourself to be guided rather than always leading. Experiencing rather than analysing."

"And why would I do that?" Caitlin challenged, a final attempt to push back.

"Because beneath all your accomplishments and control, you yearn for someone to see you completely... to recognise your strength and still show you another way of being," Virginie said, her words striking with uncanny precision. "Because despite your protest to the contrary, you felt something when I touched you just now, something that intrigues you."

Caitlin's throat felt dry. "This isn't who I am."

"Perhaps it's who you could be," Virginie suggested. "One facet of a complex woman, unexplored until now."

Virginie extended her hand. "Stand up."

The command was simple, direct. Caitlin found herself rising before she had consciously decided to comply, her body responding to the authority in Virginie's voice with a readiness that both alarmed and exhilarated her.

They stood facing each other, close enough that Caitlin could detect the subtle scent of Virginie's perfume, something intoxicating and undeniably French.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," Virginie said softly. "In this, you retain absolute power."

Then she raised her hand and traced the line of Caitlin's jaw with a single finger. The touch was gentle but deliberate, leaving a trail of heat on Caitlin's skin. Every instinct urged Caitlin to step back, to break the growing tension between them, but she remained motionless, caught in Virginie's gaze.

"You're trembling again," Virginie observed, her finger continuing its path down the side of Caitlin's neck, coming to rest in the hollow of her throat.

"I'm cold," Caitlin lied.

Virginie smiled knowingly. "No," she contradicted gently. "You're awakening."

She stepped even closer, eliminating the remaining distance between them. "Surrender isn't weakness, Caitlin. It's another kind of strength... the courage to let go of the illusion of perfect control."

Caitlin felt something crumbling inside her, some wall she had built so gradually she hadn't realised its weight until it began to fall. "I don't know how," she whispered, so quietly as to be almost inaudible.

"I'll show you," Virginie promised, her hand sliding to the nape of Caitlin's neck. "Begin by trusting your body's wisdom over your mind's caution."

With exquisite slowness, she leaned forward until her lips were just millimetres from Caitlin's, and said quietly, "Begin by trusting me..."

Caitlin couldn't help herself, leaning forward to close the gap, wanting to feel Virginie's lips on hers, wanting to understand what it would be like, but Virginie pulled away, only slightly, just enough, then again when Caitlin tried to kiss her again.

Instead Virginie reached her finger up to Caitlin's lips and whispered, "All in good time..." before she pressed her lips to Caitlin's forehead, a gesture that felt incredibly submissive to Caitlin, yet she let her. Caitlin's eyes fluttered closed, her breathing shallow and quick, processing that she'd just tried to kiss another woman.

When Virginie drew back, Caitlin opened her eyes to find the Frenchwoman watching her with an expression of profound satisfaction.

"You feel it now," Virginie said. It wasn't a question.

Caitlin nodded, unable to formulate denial in the face of the evidence of her own response.

"Good," Virginie said, stepping back and breaking the spell of proximity. "Now we can truly begin."

Over the next hour, Virginie led Caitlin through a series of simple exercises... moments of guided attention, small commands that required Caitlin to relinquish her habitual control. Each acquiescence seemed to unlock something within her, creating a deepening sense of connection to sensations that she had long suppressed.

Virginie never pushed too far, never demanded more than Caitlin could give, yet somehow always knew exactly how far to take each moment. When Caitlin's analytical mind reasserted itself, questioning and doubting, Virginie would counter with a new direction, a different focus, drawing her back into pure experience.

"What's happening to me?" Caitlin asked at one point, genuinely bewildered by the intensity of her responses to Virginie's slightest touch or word.

"You're allowing yourself to be fully present," Virginie explained. "Perhaps for the first time in your adult life."

As time went on, Caitlin's resistance gradually dissolved, replaced by a strange, floating feeling of liberation. The more she yielded to Virginie's guidance, the more she felt a profound connection forming between them, something that transcended physical attraction or intellectual stimulation.

"I want to see where you live," Virginie said finally, her tone making it clear this was more than casual curiosity. "Take me to your home, Caitlin."

In another lifetime, the one that had existed mere hours ago, Caitlin would have deflected such a presumptuous request with practiced ease. Now, the thought of showing Virginie her private space felt not only acceptable but necessary.

"Yes," she agreed, the word coming easily now. "I'd like that."

Virginie smiled as she put some items from her suitcase into an overnight bag, clearly pleased by the lack of hesitation. "Fetch your coat. We're leaving now."

They descended the stairs together, Caitlin following behind Virginie, her awareness centred entirely on the dark-haired woman before her. The party had started to thin out but was still going strong in the living room.

Emma intercepted them near the front door, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she took in that they were leaving together and that Virginie had a bag with her.

"You're off, then?" she asked, looking between them with undisguised curiosity. "Both of you?"

"Caitlin is taking me to see her home," Virginie explained with perfect composure.

Emma's gaze flew to Caitlin, clearly expecting her pragmatic, independent friend to offer some qualification or explanation. Instead, Caitlin simply looked at Emma and nodded.

"I... see," Emma said, clearly not seeing at all. "Well, it was lovely having you both. Will you be back tonight, Virginie?"

"Tomorrow," Virginie said with calm certainty. "I'm going to stay with Caitlin tonight."

Again, Emma looked to Caitlin for some sign of her usual assertive self, some indication that she had any input into these arrangements. Finding none, her expression shifted to open astonishment.

"Right, then," she managed, stepping back. "Have a... good night."

Virginie retrieved her coat from the hall closet, then turned to Caitlin. "Help me with this, please."

Without hesitation, Caitlin took the coat and held it open, assisting Virginie with the practiced deference of someone accustomed to following instructions. The reversal of their earlier dynamic was complete and unmistakable.

As they stepped out into the cool London night, Virginie turned to Caitlin with a smile that contained both approval and promise. "You've done well tonight," she said softly. "This is just the beginning."

Caitlin felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the night air. "The beginning of what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Virginie's smile deepened. "Of your education," she said simply. "Now, take me home."

And Caitlin, who had spent her entire adult life directing, managing, and controlling every aspect of her existence, summoned a taxi with perfect obedience, surrendering completely to whatever might come next.

Caitlin's flat occupied the top two floors of a Victorian conversion in Islington... a carefully, and expensively, curated space that reflected her personality. Clean lines, muted colours, and thoughtfully selected art pieces created an environment that was both impressive and impersonal, a home designed as much to make a statement about the owner as to be somewhere to live.

As she unlocked the door and led Virginie inside, Caitlin suddenly saw her living space through new eyes. The pristine surfaces and perfect symmetry that had always given her satisfaction now seemed sterile, lacking the vitality that Virginie carried with her mere presence.

"Your home is exactly as I imagined it would be, exactly as you are," Virginie observed, walking through the open plan lower floor with the same confidence that she exhibited everywhere. "Beautiful, controlled, and revealing very little."

Caitlin switched on the lights, watching as Virginie explored the living room, trailing her fingers along the spines of books arranged by height and colour on the built-in shelves down one entire wall.

"Is that a compliment or a criticism?" Caitlin asked, still standing near the door, uncertain in a way she had never been in her own home before.

Virginie turned to her with a gentle smile. "An observation. Your external environment reflects your internal one." She gestured around the room. "Everything in its place, nothing allowed to intrude or disrupt the careful order."

She crossed to where Caitlin stood and took her hand. "But tonight, we're going to create a little beautiful chaos in this ordered world of yours."

Caitlin felt her pulse quicken at both the touch and the words. "I'm not sure I know how to do that."

"That's why I'm here," Virginie said softly. "To show you."

She led Caitlin through the flat as if she were the host rather than the guest, eventually finding the bedroom on the upper floor. Like the rest of the home it was immaculate, a large bed with white duvet and pillows, minimal furnishings save for a sofa down one wall and some rugs on the polished wood floor, achingly fashionable with its vaulted ceiling and exposed wooden cross beams, nothing out of place.

Virginie stood in the centre of the room, her dark hair and black dress creating a stark contrast against the pale walls. "This is where you sleep, but I wonder if this is where you truly rest. True rest requires surrender, and surrender has been foreign to you for so long."

Something in her words resonated with a truth Caitlin had never acknowledged, that her sleep, like every other aspect of her life, was disciplined and controlled, often elusive despite her exhaustion.

"Tonight will be different," Virginie promised, as if reading her thoughts. "Tonight, you'll discover what it means to truly let go."

Caitlin stood still near her bedroom door, waiting she realised for permission to enter her own bedroom.

Virginie stood looking at her. "Take off your shoes."

Caitlin did as she was told right away, slipping off her heels and leaving them neatly by the door.

"Now..." continued Virginie as she sat down on the edge of the bed, "Come to me."

Without thinking by then, Caitlin walked slowly across the room to stand in front of Virginie. Virginie reached her hands up and started to very gently, as light as a feather, run her fingers over Caitlin's hips, stomach, and then outer thighs, never staying anywhere long, but drawing a soft sigh from Caitlin as the sensations built.

"I am going to teach you what happens when you obey me. It should be a night that you never forget, but... at any point tonight tell me to stop and I will. You have absolute power over this. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Caitlin said quietly.

"Then we begin," replied Virginie. "Bring me my bag from downstairs."

"Of course." Caitlin walked out of the bedroom and down to the living room, retrieving the bag and bringing it back up to the bedroom.

"Thank you," replied Virginie. "Now, kneel over there with your hands behind your back and close your eyes." She pointed to a spot in the corner of the room and Caitlin complied, kneeling down, clasping her hands together behind her back, eyes closed.

As she knelt, Caitlin could hear Virginie moving around the room. "Tell me what you hear."

"You moving... A police siren outside... Your bag unzipping... My heart beating..."

Caitlin felt Virginie's fingers caress her cheek briefly. "Very good. You learn fast." There was the same confidence as usual in her voice, but also with a hint of pride that made Caitlin feel proud too, pleased to have pleased Virginie.

She knelt in silence for a few minutes, the only sound made by Virginie moving around the room.

"Open your eyes." Caitlin's eyes flew open and, after a moment to adjust to the light, she saw Virginie sat on the sofa on the far side of the room except that her dress was gone, visible instead hung up in Caitlin's wardrobe.

Earlier, even a couple of hours before, that level of presumption would have riled Caitlin, but not now, not after the change that Virginie had brought about.

Instead she was wearing a gold coloured silk nightdress, elegant, simple, it went half way down her thighs and, the way that she was sitting and the way that the nightdress was cut showed plenty of her stunning body and teased at more. Caitlin wasn't into women, had never been into women, but Virginie just got more and more beautiful and, she had to admit to herself, more and more alluring by the minute.

"Crawl to me."

Caitlin glanced sharply at Virginie, checking whether she was joking, but of course she wasn't.

"I don't..." Caitlin started to say, the normal her rising up to protest, but Virginie cut her off.

"You don't what? This is your chance, to truly free yourself. What have you got to lose?"

A thousand counterarguments formed in Caitlin's head, but she pushed them down, not wanting to have gone this far and fail at this stage. Because, she realised, she wanted to obey. Genuinely, deep down... it was a shock to her, but not an unpleasant one.

Instead, she leaned forward on to her hands and knees and started to crawl across the floor to Virginie.

"Look at me as you crawl."

Caitlin looked up and made eye contact as she crawled across the floor, a journey that felt long across the full width of the room. She should have felt humiliated, but she didn't... she felt a feeling of almost euphoria instead, that and unexpected arousal to be crawling across the floor towards this French goddess sat on her sofa.

When Caitlin got close Virginie said, "Stop and stand up." Once Caitlin was stood, Virginie continued, "Remove your dress."

"I..." Caitlin started, but a look from Virginie silenced her and she was through that brief moment of resistance, reaching behind herself to undo the zip and, when it came undone, allowing the dress to fall down to her feet.

"Turn around for me," continued Virginie.

Caitlin did as she was told, turning slowly in a full circle.

"You're trembling again."

"This time I really am cold."

Virginie laughed kindly. "I think not." She paused. "An interesting choice of underwear for someone like you."

Looking down in confusion, Caitlin replied, "How do you mean? It's my normal underwear."

"Really? You wear red lace lingerie with suspenders all the time."

Caitlin felt herself blushing.

"I think you were hoping to meet a man tonight, no?" Caitlin said nothing, so Virginie asked again, calmly, "Answer me when I ask you, you were hoping to meet a man?"

"Yes," replied Caitlin quietly.

"To do what?"

"To... take him home," she replied. "A one night stand."

"To use him and throw him away." Virginie paused. "Is that what I am? A one night stand for you to use and discard?"

"No, definitely no," replied Caitlin quickly.

"Good... this is a long term arrangement for you, I like that."

Caitlin stayed silent, but inside she felt, not for the first time that night, like events were spiralling out of control. A long term arrangement? But then she reminded herself that she could say stop at any time, and she really didn't want to stay stop, at least not yet.

"Tell me, what are you most comfortable wearing?"

Caitlin thought for a moment. "I'm not sure..." she replied hesitantly.

Virginie looked at her as a disappointed teacher might look at an unhelpful student. "What do you wear when you are relaxing at home, just you?"

"I... well, I tend to work late so I don't relax at home much. My dressing gown?"

"Good. That will work. Go and get your dressing gown."

"It's not very..." her words tailed off at another look from Virginie. She'd been about to say that it wasn't very sexy, but clearly that wasn't something up for discussion. Instead, she turned around and walked to her ensuite bathroom, fetching her white dressing gown which she was thankful she'd washed a few days before and brought it back over to Virginie, handing it to her.

"You will wear this now, and nothing else."

"Nothing else?"

"You need to relax and set yourself free. Nothing else. Take your other clothes off."

Caitlin paused and looked at Virginie, a hint of defiance in her eyes. The moment earlier when she'd tried to kiss Virginie and failed she'd realised and made peace with the fact that she was going to end up in bed with Virginie that night, even with her mind as confused as it had been at that point she had the clarity to understand her own desires and where her evening was heading.

But this... this was nothing like any encounter she'd had before. Not remotely close. She was far, far out of her depth, and realised that she had two options. She could end it, could say stop, and she believed Virginie when she said that she would. Or she could continue.

And she really didn't want to say stop, not by that point, not after what she had been through with Virginie so far.

So... continue.

Looking Virginie in the eye, determined that if she was going to do this then, like everything in her life, she wasn't going to give it anything but her best, Caitlin reached behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall down, tossing it onto the floor.

She stood and looked at Virginie, and was pleased to see an ever so slight inhalation from her as Virginie's eyes settled on her breasts... Virginie liked what she saw, and that made Caitlin pleased with herself too, her nipples hardening at the thought.

Next, Caitlin unclipped the suspenders and, leaning down, rolled first one then the other down her legs and kicked them off, before straightening again and reaching both hands for her underwear. She paused ever so slightly theatrically, then slipped her underwear down and off, to stand there completely naked in front of Virginie. She realised that if Virginie looked closely enough Caitlin's growing arousal would be very, very clear, but she stayed standing nonetheless.

"Tres bien," came the appreciative comment from Virginie. She sat forward and reached her hand up to touch Caitlin's stomach lightly, before running her hand up, brushing the underside of her breast but steering clear otherwise, reaching higher until her hand rested lightly on Caitlin's jaw. Caitlin couldn't help but lean her head towards Virginie's hand, and Virginie held her hand still, allowing Caitlin that moment of stronger contact.

"Put on your dressing gown and then go and lie on the bed, your head on the pillows, eyes closed."

Caitlin put on the dressing gown, tying the belt loosely around her middle, and then she walked over to the bed and did as she'd been told, lying back, arms by her side, head on the pillow and eyes closed.

"Tell me what you feel."

"I feel... the pillow under my head, and the duvet under my body. It feels... good. Comforting. Reassuring under me."

"Anything else?"

"I feel anticipation. Excitement. But also nervous. I feel..." She took a deep breath and then admitted out loud, "... out of my depth. Out of control."

"Good. When you recognise it you can embrace it."

Caitlin felt the bed move as Virginie climbed onto it, then felt Virginie take one hand and move it towards the corner of the bed, then the other hand towards the other corner of the bed.

"Do you trust me?" came Virginie's voice, much closer now.

Caitlin swallowed and nodded, not trusting herself to talk.

"Let yourself go," was the reply as Caitlin felt something wrap around one wrist, then something similar around the other.

"What is that?"

"Restraints," Virginie replied. "I brought them with me in my bag. If you want them undone you just have to say. Test them if you would like."

Caitlin tried to move her wrists and found that she was tied tight, only able to move them a little. She felt Virginie lift her head and felt some fabric over her eyes, realising that she was blindfolded too.

There was a moment of panic, this sudden surrender of physical control layered on top of the surrender of emotional control briefly overwhelming, too much.

"I am here," said Virginie, noticing Caitlin's reaction. "You are safe. Do you want me to remove the restraints?"

Caitlin took a couple of deep breaths then shook her head. "No. I'm not... it's not... it's not something I've let anyone do to me before. Ever." She paused. "I'm willing to try it."

"Good." She felt Virginie's finger trail across her skin, over her upper chest and neck in the gap in her dressing gown, a reassuring touch, pushing away the brief wave of panic. "In restraint, as with submission, you will find true freedom."

Virginie's hands were on her ankles, moving her legs towards the two bottom corners of the bed, and then she felt the restraints go on them too. Caitlin took a deep breath, realising that she was now completely helpless, at Virginie's mercy, and glad, truly glad, that Emma could vouch that Virginie was many things but above all else was trustworthy.

She heard Virginie climb off the bed and open her bag, and then she was back.

"I want you to let yourself completely go, to give yourself entirely over to me, to put your body and your pleasure completely under my control. That is why I have restrained you, so that you cannot even try to do anything with your arms and legs except give in to the pleasure.

"And that is why I have blindfolded you, so that there is nothing to distract you. I also have these headphones to fit over your ears, so that there is nothing for you to hear to distract you either. I will stay here all the time with you, and I will look after you. You have my word. Can I continue?"

Caitlin took another deep breath, and then nodded. "Yes," she replied quietly, "yes please," the anticipation building... by that point she was desperate for Virginie's touch, to experience this pleasure, and she'd have said yes to anything.

"Think of nothing. Do nothing. Just be."

She felt the headphones go over her ears, and they must have been noise cancelling because immediately everything was muffled to be replaced by quiet, relaxing classical music.

For the next few minutes, she lay there and deep breathed, conscious of Virginie's light touch on her, gently stroking first her neck and shoulders, and then her legs, but only as far as her knees. It was an exquisite form of almost torture for Caitlin, so very, very slow, and it was all she could do not to beg Virginie to start to touch her properly. Have faith, she reminded herself, she seems to know what she is doing.

Soon, the touches started to grow more intimate, feeling Virginie's fingers start to move ever so gradually up above the knee, along her inner thigh, but if she tried to move towards Virginie's hands at all by shifting her hips the hands moved further away again, telling Caitlin very clearly to behave herself.

Instead she stayed still, relaxed, giving in to the pleasure, and as she did so she felt Virginie's hands start to wander more freely again, started to understand instinctively that if she did what Virginie wanted she would be rewarded, and if she didn't then she wouldn't be.

Caitlin felt the belt of the dressing gown come undone, felt Virginie part the dressing gown, the cool evening air making her shiver briefly, every part of her body sensitive, waiting and desperate for Virginie's touch.

She felt Virginie's hands in two places at once, one on her stomach, skirting lower but not quite low enough, Caitlin just managing to keep her hips still, the other moving up her inner thigh but slowly still, too slowly, feeling to Caitlin as if she was going to be trapped forever with Virginie's touch never quite there.

She let out a long, satisfied sigh as she finally felt Virginie's lips on her, realising that despite all the build up, despite the time she'd spent with her at Emma's house too, the only time she'd felt them was that possessive kiss on the forehead. Her lips were soft and gentle, and while her hands played their games her lips focused on her breasts and mainly her nipples, gently teasing her, using her tongue as well, even giving little playful bites... something she would never have let any man get away with.

The levels of stimulation that she was experiencing were crazy as Virginie continued with her combination, and then she felt Virginie's mouth start moving up, kissing her upper chest, her neck, her chin, her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, everywhere... everywhere, except her lips.

Caitlin, dependent only on her sense of touch, parted her own lips expectantly regardless, and was rewarded a couple of minutes later when she felt Virginie's lips press against hers, teasingly, playfully, but it was the kiss that she'd been so desperate for since Emma's spare room and she returned it hungrily.

Virginie seemed to be focusing all her attention on the kiss herself, her hands having gone still, and as their tongues slipped together they kissed passionately, Caitlin instinctively straining at her restraints, wanting to reach her arms around and pull this intoxicating French beauty into her and never let her leave.

Finally, though, Virginie broke the kiss and started to kiss her way down Caitlin's body, back down over her neck, her chest, her breasts, then down lower, trailing kisses over her stomach, lower and lower. She felt Virginie shift position on the bed, could tell that she was between Caitlin's legs, and felt her lips again, this time kissing her inner thighs, getting closer and closer.

There was a pause, and Caitlin worried for a moment that Virginie had stopped, but then she felt her tongue, gentle but firm, touching her between her legs, a touch that she was more than ready for, a touch that she hadn't known that she needed all of her life, and she moaned loudly in sheer pleasure at that first, wonderful touch of Virginie's tongue.

Caitlin had been a recipient of oral sex many times in her life, but always from a man. A part of her had, from time to time, wondered what it would be like from a woman, but very much intellectually, not erotically. Because, well, women weren't her thing.

Not any more.

Within thirty seconds Caitlin knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was not going to be the last time that she slept with a woman. No chance. Because Virginie's tongue felt incredible, unbelievable. Yes, the build up had been amazing, yes she was desperate for her release, but still... it was an experience unlike any sexual experience she'd ever had before.

Over the next who knew how many minutes or hours, certainly not Caitlin, Virginie went down on her, using her tongue and her fingers to build her up slowly then bring her back down again, again and again and again, each time reaching slightly greater heights with the lows not as low as the time before, so that her pleasure was ratcheting up minute by minute.

Caitlin lost track of what noises she was making and when, the sensory deprivation making the noises meaningless to her anyway, though at one point she found herself begging, saying, "Please... please... I need to cum... please let me cum... I'll do anything for you if you let me cum...", and at another she tried to form words but couldn't think of anything. It was insane.

Finally, finally, she felt her orgasm really starting to peak, lying back and letting the waves roll over her as she cried out and Virginie held her tight, hands on Caitlin's hips as she bucked against Virginie's tongue, and Virginie using her tongue expertly to prolong the pleasure, turning an orgasm into a second and then a third in quick succession, leaving Caitlin breathless and writhing within the limits of her bound wrists and ankles.

Caitlin wasn't sure what happened, but she must have drifted off, still restrained, still blindfolded, still with the headphones on, the wave after wave of pleasure exhausting her.

She woke when she felt Virginie remove first the headphones and then the blindfold, blinking to see Virginie still in her nightdress, on hands and knees looking down at Caitlin, her dark hair hanging down to create almost a curtain around them, shutting out the rest of the world.

It was her eyes though, those deep brown eyes that felt like they could see right through Caitlin to her soul... Caitlin would remember that moment for as long as she lived, the eyes had such a look of understanding tenderness, the expression one that said don't worry, I'm here for you, I've got you.

"Beautiful," was all Virginie said. "You are beautiful when pleasure takes hold."

Caitlin smiled weakly up at her. "I... don't have words."

"You don't need them." Virginie lowered her face and kissed Caitlin, gently, caringly. "You stayed present, in touch with your pleasure. I could tell."

Caitlin just continued smiling, unable to talk coherently.

"Now do you understand? How surrender can set you free?"

Caitlin nodded, and managed to find the words. "I do."

Virginie smiled back. "You think you do. You have started well but there is much, much more for you to learn."

"Tonight?"

"Tonight, this week, over the weeks to come." Seeing Caitlin's surprise, Virginie laughed kindly. "Of course you can stop this at any time. You have all the power." She paused and kissed Caitlin. "But somehow I don't think you will, not now."

Caitlin felt her cheeks redden at the thought of this submission to Virginie going beyond just that night... but she didn't recoil at the thought as she would have even an hour before. What Virginie had just done for her had changed everything, she realised, everything.

"Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?" asked Virginie.

Caitlin looked at her bounds wrists and ankles, at the parted dressing gown and her own nudity beneath it, open and exposed to Virginie, for Virginie to do as she pleased with. It felt... right. She would never have believed it, but it just did.

There was one thing though. "I need to use the bathroom..." Caitlin said quietly, slightly embarrassed to have to ask.

Virginie smiled kindly. "Of course." She untied first the ankles and then the wrists, and helped Caitlin to stand.

"When you are done, I will be downstairs. Come to me but no clothes. You don't need them any more."

Caitlin nodded her understanding, though as she walked over to the bathroom she did wonder whether no clothes meant just then, or whether Virginie meant it as a longer term request... but, she reminded herself again, she could say stop at any time.

A few minutes later, after the chance to freshen up a bit and to tie her hair back into a more practical ponytail, Caitlin left her dressing gown behind and walked nude out of her bedroom, noticing as she went that the restraints were still tied to the bed and hoping, secretly, that that meant they'd be used again that night.

As she walked down the stairs, her stairs she reminded herself even though it felt as if Virginie had taken ownership of the apartment through sheer force of will, Caitlin realised that she had never done even that before, never walked around her own apartment naked. She had always been so busy and so structured in her life that something as simple as that had never occurred to her. It felt good, like something she should do more, something liberating.

When she reached the bottom she saw that Virginie was sat in her sitting area, comfortable in her nightdress, a bottle of wine open and two glasses poured, ready on a side table.

Caitlin inhaled sharply when she realised the bottle... a present from the CEO of her firm to thank her for her good work on a high profile client, a bottle that she knew was worth £500 easily.

"That's..." She felt her normal self rising up, but forced it back down, keeping quiet.

"That's...?" was Virginie's calm reply, but with an expression that said she knew exactly what Caitlin was thinking.

"That wasn't for tonight," replied Caitlin. "You can't just help yourself to whatever you want."

Virginie looked at her across the room, a raised eyebrow the only sign that she was unimpressed by Caitlin's outburst.

For her part, Caitlin tried to just look back at her, knowing that whoever spoke first lost, but wearing no clothes, feeling exposed, having just experienced upstairs what she had, she was in no state for a battle of wills.

Finally, she looked down, breaking eye contact and said, "I'm sorry."

"Kneel." Caitlin knelt while Virginie stayed where she was.

After a few minutes, during which Virginie took several leisurely sips of the wine and topped up her glass, she said, "I was going to let you sit with me. Not after that disobedience. You are still learning, so I will be kind. But you must learn that there are consequences."

Caitlin felt herself redden at the word consequences, spoken in that alluring French accent, felt her body reacting too and not in a bad way... whatever that experience upstairs had unlocked, her body liked it, without a doubt.

"Come here on your hands and knees, looking at me."

Swallowing hard, Caitlin went on to her hands and knees and crawled slowly across the floor, her own floor, towards Virginie, acutely conscious of her breasts hanging down, swaying with each movement, knowing that her hard nipples were clear for Virginie to see.

When she got to Virginie she stopped, and Virginie looked down at her. After a long few moments and another sip of the wine, she said, "I was going to show you how much more pleasurable your submission could be for you. Upstairs was just a teaser. But not yet. Maybe later if you're good for me now. We shall see."

Caitlin stayed patiently on her hands and knees, waiting obediently to see what Virginie had in store. The answer didn't take long to come.

"Instead, I am going to teach you how to give pleasure. Have you given pleasure to a woman before?"

Caitlin shook her head. "No," she replied quietly, almost embarrassed to admit that this was something she knew little about.

Virginie smiled. "So, I teach you. You must do as I say. I expect you to remember everything I tell you, and to use it over the coming months whenever you pleasure me."

Oh god, thought Caitlin, this is really getting out of control. Over the coming months... but she didn't say stop, didn't move. She realised that she wanted to see how this played out, to see where it could take her. It was as if she'd found the thing that had been missing from her life and that she hadn't even known wasn't there.

Virginie shifted in her seat, reclining against the cushions and parting her legs. Caitlin took a deep breath, far out of her comfort zone, confronted with the sight of Virginie's trimmed pubic hair not twelve inches from her face.

"You may kneel," said Virginie. "Tell me what you feel."

Caitlin knelt and looked down between Virginie's legs again. "I feel... unsure, worried. That I might be bad at this."

"You worry that you might be bad?"

"I... I'm good at everything. Competitive. But this... for once I don't know what to do."

Virginie smiled. "Truth, that is everything. Well done for admitting what you fear. Just relax, you will do well if you obey me."

Caitlin nodded. "What do I do first?"

"Touch me, with your fingers, and watch how I respond. Try different things. I want to experience what you want me to experience."

She looked nervously up at Virginie's face, but a reassuring smile helped. Slowly, tentatively, Caitlin reached her right hand up and, to start with, placed it lightly on Virginie's inner thigh, stroking gently along towards her centre before stroking back towards her knee.

"Tell me, what does it feel like?" asked Virginie, her arousal clear on her face.

"Smooth. Your skin is smooth. And warm. Warm and soft." She paused. "It feels like it looks, with the tone of your skin."

"Good... keep telling me as you go." Virginie lay her head back, her eyes half closed, while Caitlin's hand continued.

After a minute or two, she introduced her other hand as well, before moving her hands under the nightdress to touch Virginie's waist.

"This feels different... harder, more muscular, but smooth still. It feels nice to touch."

Caitlin slid a hand under Virginie, touching her ass, and continued, "And this feels softer but nice. I'm drawn to it... like I want to hold it tight. Pull it towards me."

"It feels good," came Virginie's reply, half way between a question of Caitlin and a statement of Virginie's own enjoyment.

"It does." Caitlin paused, hesitating before crossing the final barrier. "Can I... touch you?"

"Thank you for asking. That is good manners. Yes, you may."

Caitlin took a deep breath and, with one hand resting on her thigh, she reached forward with her other hand, feeling her fingertips brush against Virginie's soft pubic hair... another woman's pubic hair.

"How does it feel?"

"Soft, very soft. Softer than mine, and much softer than any man's."

Virginie smiled. "You denied me the chance to feel yours by shaving yourself. You will let it grow back so that I can experience it for myself in the next few weeks."

That presumption yet again, thought Caitlin, that this was some sort of long term relationship rather than a crazy, crazy night. But she was used to it by then, filing it away as a tomorrow problem, confident that in the morning she would be back to her normal self. In the meantime she wanted to enjoy this most surprising of nights to its fullest.

"Yes, I will." Caitlin increased the pressure of her touch, through to the folds beneath, drawing a sharp inhalation from Virginie, secretly pleased to be able to get a pleasurable reaction out of her.

"How does that feel?" asked Virginie quietly, seeming part distracted by the sensations she was feeling.

"Like mine..." Caitlin started to reply.

"Don't compare, tell me in absolutes, not relatives. Be in this moment."

Caitlin took a moment to think. "It feels like... you are aroused. I want to touch you more. To see what I can do. To see your reaction." She paused. "To watch your pleasure."

She started to touch Virginie with more certainty, doing with her fingers what she liked to do on her own, but also trying to pay attention to Virginie's reactions, remembering what she did that made Virginie take a sudden deeper breath or made her shift... Virginie kept herself controlled, but the tells were there regardless.

"Tres bien." Virginie looked at Caitlin with a look of relaxed enjoyment. "Now I instruct you..."

And instruct she did, telling Caitlin to slide two fingers inside her while using her thumb to press on her clitoris, drawing a quiet moan when Caitlin did it just right.

Caitlin took that as a sign to go faster, sensing that Virginie was close, but Virginie held Caitlin's hand in hers and shook her head. "Non... slowly. Very slowly."

Nodding her understanding, Caitlin slowed right down, and slowly worked to build Virginie's pleasure, delighting in seeing how flushed her cheeks were, how shallow her breathing was, how her body was shaken by occasional tremors that even Virginie couldn't hide.

"Now, your tongue..."

Caitlin lent down without thinking, this final step having been so certain for so long now that it wasn't remotely a surprise. Her tongue felt Virginie's pubic hair, and then she tasted her, really tasted her for the first time, running her tongue up and down her folds.

Virginie gasped and arched her back slightly, but Caitlin knew better than to speed up. Instead Virginie gave her little commands, "Left a little," "More pressure," and so on, teaching Caitlin what she really liked.

When she said, "Exactly that but with your fingers again," Caitlin slid two fingers into her, combining them with her tongue.

Virginie grabbed hold of Caitlin's other hand, pulling it up to her breast, her nipples hard under the silk of her nightdress, and Caitlin played with them while her tongue and her fingers continued their slow work.

She glanced up to see Virginie slipping off the shoulder straps of her nightdress, pulling it down to reveal her breasts and Caitlin continued to touch them, this time without the silk in the way.

It didn't take long from there... a couple of minutes and Virginie started to moan loudly, her back arching, and then Caitlin felt Virginie's legs clamp around her head, felt inside her pulsing with each wave, looked up again to see her head thrown back, and she came, a loud, carefree orgasm, wave after wave, Virginie almost incoherent in her pleasure.

Eventually, when she came back down, she pushed Caitlin away and smiled. "You are a natural," she teased, though Caitlin wondered if she was serious, happy to have given such pleasure to Virginie in that moment.

"Can I bring you anything?" asked Caitlin quietly as she rested her head on Virginie's thigh, her fingers gently stroking Virginie's pubic hair.

"No. But for that, you will be rewarded. First, though..." she paused as she handed Caitlin a wine glass, "... you may sit down and drink some of this wine."

By that point, her obedience so complete, it didn't even occur to Caitlin that that was her wine and her wine glass.

"Tell me," asked Virginie. "When did you last gift someone pleasure? Truthfully please."

Caitlin shifted position slightly, sat where she was on the rug by Virginie's feet, not a position that Virginie had told her to take but one that felt natural to Caitlin in this hierarchy that they had established.

"A couple of weeks ago."

"Who?"

"A guy on a date."

"Tell me how."

Caitlin looked puzzled. "We slept together."

"How did you gift him pleasure?"

"We had sex..." Caitlin couldn't understand what Virginie was asking. "He... well, he came."

"You pleasured him orally?"

Caitlin shook her head. "No, I don't do that..." She trailed off, realising she had literally just done that. "Not with men I mean."

"Let me guess then. You had sex with him, maybe let him go down on you first?" Caitlin nodded. "But not on him, because that wouldn't be what a strong, independent woman like you does. And then sex, you on top?" Caitlin nodded again. "Because you don't want to be subordinate to any man in bed."

"I guess so," replied Caitlin.

"So, I will ask again. When did you last gift someone pleasure? When did you last focus exclusively on their pleasure rather than yours?"

Caitlin thought back and realised with a shock that it would have been a boyfriend at university, that would have been the last time that she gave someone else pleasure rather than focusing on her own. "Eight years, give or take."

"Eight years..." replied Virginie, letting it hang in the air for a moment. "Do you remember what I said earlier about having the strength to obey? That that strength gives you power?"

Caitlin nodded. "Yes, I do."

"You just gave me the gift of pleasure, and it was very, very good. Your strength through your obedience to me let you do that, strengthening what you and I have."

Virginie reached a hand down to stroke Caitlin's hair, then continued. "I can tell that what we have is very special. It will become even more special, I promise you."

Caitlin sat and thought, her mind in a daze. Virginie's words felt good, really very good, and she felt so happy to have given Virginie even a fraction of the pleasure that Virginie had given her earlier. Obeying her, allowing Virginie complete control, was eye opening... she never wanted the night to end.

Caitlin woke early the next morning with a start and on the wrong side of her bed. She blinked once and was fully awake, the same disciplined transition from sleep that had served her well through years of early morning meetings. The fact that she was naked was the only indication that last night had been anything but routine.

She glanced sideways, confirming what her body already knew... she wasn't alone.

Virginie was still deep asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow, breathing slowly and evenly. Caitlin looked at her dispassionately, appreciating Virginie's good looks, pleased that at least her first time with a woman had been with someone so attractive, but without allowing herself to dwell on the night they'd shared.

Around the room, evidence of their activities remained... restraints still attached to the four corners of the bed, Caitlin's vibrator on the bedside table, a silk scarf that had served as a blindfold draped across the foot of the bed.

Professional as always, Caitlin made a mental note of each item clinically, acknowledging the memories they triggered but refusing to give them undue weight.

Yes, she remembered her wrists and ankles bound by those restraints while Virginie edged her mercilessly. She recalled the disorientation of the blindfold and the headphones, the unusual surrender that she'd allowed. Her body reminded her with a slight soreness in unfamiliar places, a lingering sensitivity that flared briefly before Caitlin mentally filed it away.

She remembered saying things, doing things that were utterly uncharacteristic. Begging at one point. Even Virginie's whispered words in the darkness... "You are mine now. You understand that, yes?"... and her own obedient reply of agreement, incomprehensible in the cold light of day. But that had been night, with its different rules and realities. This was morning, and Caitlin did not belong to anyone but herself.

Last night had been exactly that... one night. Extraordinary, perhaps, but hardly life changing.

She had needed a release after weeks of mounting pressure at work, and Virginie had provided an interesting diversion from her usual one night stands and short relationships. It was the novelty that had made it so compelling, nothing more.

Today was Saturday. She had plans... a strategy brief to review before Monday's client meeting, lunch with a former colleague who'd recently been appointed CFO at a potential client firm, perhaps a visit to that new gallery in Mayfair if time permitted. The usual productive weekend that kept her consistently ahead of her peers.

Virginie would be an addendum to her morning schedule. Coffee, a pleasant but firm conversation about what a lovely experience it had been, and then a polite but clear conclusion. She was Caitlin, after all, and a single night of unconventional behaviour hardly defined her.

Decision made, she eased out of bed with practiced stealth. Years of leaving sleeping men behind had perfected her technique, though she noted with mild irritation that for once she was the one slipping away in her own apartment. She would rectify that imbalance soon enough.

Walking naked across her bedroom, she reached automatically for her dressing gown but found it missing from its usual hook. The memory surfaced from nowhere... Virginie removing it from its place, folding it deliberately and putting it away after Caitlin had worn it the night before, stating that Caitlin wouldn't need it. The presumption seemed absurd in daylight. This was her apartment, her domain, her rules.

She slipped through the door and padded silently down the stairs, refusing to acknowledge the small voice in her head that noted how she was still following Virginie's directive by remaining naked. That was merely practicality... her running kit was downstairs in the utility room.

In the kitchen, she automatically reached for the coffee before stopping herself. She'd make coffee after her run. The routine was important... run first, then coffee, then shower. Structure and discipline had built her career, her whole life, and she wasn't about to deviate because of one unusual night.

She dug out her recently laundered running clothes, appreciating the feel of something practical against her skin as she pulled them on. The fabric brushed against a slight bruise on her hip, unleashing a flash of memory... Virginie's hand gripping her there, positioning her precisely as Caitlin lay under her, their bodies grinding together, the ecstatic pleasure that came with it. Caitlin dismissed it immediately. Bodies bruised during vigorous activity... it was nothing more significant than that.

Pulling her hair back in a practical, tight ponytail, she felt another echo from the night before... Virginie's fingers tangled in Caitlin's hair, controlling her movements with casual authority. She tightened the elastic with more force than necessary, as if physically banishing the memory.

Her schedule for the day was clear in her mind as she laced her running shoes. The Meridian portfolio needed review by noon. Her lunch reservation was for one-thirty. The gallery closed at six. If she maintained focus, everything would proceed exactly as planned. Last night was already receding, an interesting anecdote rather than a significant event.

Five miles running along the canal would reset her completely. The rhythm would flush out whatever lingering effects Virginie's presence had created, restoring her to her normal, controlled self, just as it always did.

By the time she returned, she'd be fully prepared to handle Virginie with her usual commanding, diplomatic efficiency.

As she stretched briefly before heading out, her gaze fell on the sofa, the cushions slightly askew from their normal, precise location. Another memory surfaced unbidden... kneeling naked and obedient in front of Virginie, touching her, Caitlin pleasuring Virginie with her tongue, the intoxicating taste, the emotions as she gave herself exclusively to Virginie's pleasure... Caitlin felt herself blush as she shook her head to clear the memory.

Caitlin checked her running watch and headed for the door. By the time she returned, last night would be firmly contextualised as what it truly was... a momentary divergence from the norm, a brief exploration of an alternate reality that held no real power over her ordered existence, precisely the sort of one night adventure that a strong, independent woman like Caitlin should experience at least once in her life.

She would thank Virginie for the experience, perhaps suggest a coffee the next time their paths crossed, and then reclaim full ownership of her apartment and her life.

The sensation of command was already returning as she stepped out into the morning air. She had a clear plan, a full schedule, and complete control over what happened next. Last night had merely been an interesting detour, nothing more.

She would cherish the memory, certainly, even Caitlin wasn't too rigid to appreciate an extraordinary experience, but it would remain exactly that... a memory. Not a beginning, not a transformation, just one unusual night with a compelling woman who would soon be nothing more than an interesting story she occasionally recalled.

With that certainty firmly established, Caitlin began her run, each stride taking her further from the night before and back to the woman she'd always been. By the time she returned to make Virginie coffee and orchestrate a graceful conclusion to their brief encounter, everything would be back to normal.

Exactly as she intended it to be.

The spring morning air felt crisp against Caitlin's face as she completed the final stretch of her run, lungs burning pleasantly with the exertion, blasting the cobwebs away from the night before.

Five miles along the canal had given her exactly what she needed... clarity, perspective, and a renewed sense of self. With each stride, she'd methodically processed the events of the previous night, confronting them, contextualizing them, and ultimately placing them in their proper position... a fascinating anomaly, nothing more.

By the time she reached her apartment building her mind felt ordered again, her thoughts aligned with her familiar sense of self. The strange, surrendered woman from last night seemed like someone else entirely, an interesting character she'd briefly played rather than anything real.

She took the stairs to her flat rather than the lift, her body still craving movement. At her door, she paused, key in hand, organising her approach.

She would shower first, dress in something casual but elegant, and then make coffee for them both. When Virginie woke, they would have a pleasant conversation about their unexpected connection, acknowledging its intensity while agreeing that it had been a brief, if extraordinary, interlude. Clean, straightforward, conclusive. Life goes on as normal.

Turning the key quietly, she entered her flat, anticipating the stillness of the early morning. Instead, she was greeted by the aroma of fresh coffee and the soft sound of classical music. Bach, she recognised, one of the cello suites.

Virginie was awake.

Caitlin moved through the entryway toward the kitchen, adjusting her mental script as she went. She found Virginie there, dressed in a simple white button down shirt that Caitlin recognised as her own, legs bare, her long dark hair pulled into a loose knot. She was arranging fresh fruit on two plates, movements precise and unhurried, as if she'd lived in Caitlin's apartment for years rather than hours.

"Good morning," Caitlin said, her voice steady and professional despite the unexpected scene of domesticity before her. "I see you've made yourself at home."

Virginie turned, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Bonjour," she replied. "I hope you don't mind. I thought you might appreciate coffee after your run." She gestured to a steaming mug on the counter. "Black, no sugar, correct?"

Caitlin nodded, surprised that Virginie had correctly anticipated her preference. "Thank you," she said, picking up the mug and taking a sip. The coffee was excellent, stronger than she typically made it but somehow perfect this morning.

"You slept well?" Virginie asked, her tone conversational, though her eyes held that same penetrating quality that had so unsettled Caitlin, rattled her to the core, the night before.

"Yes, thank you," Caitlin replied, determined to maintain the casual, post-one-night-stand atmosphere that she had planned. "And you?"

"Very well," Virginie said. She picked up the two plates and nodded towards the small table by the window. "Shall we?"

Without waiting for a response, she moved to the table and set down the plates, then seated herself with the same effortless grace that seemed to characterise her every movement. Caitlin followed, coffee in hand, growing increasingly aware that the conversation was not proceeding according to her mental script.

As she sat across from Virginie the sunlight streaming through the window illuminated the French woman's features, highlighting the remarkable bone structure of her face, the clarity of her dark eyes. Despite her best intentions, Caitlin felt a flutter of the same fascination and deep arousal that had captivated her the night before.

"Your run was good?" Virginie asked, selecting a piece of sliced apple from her plate.

"Yes," Caitlin said, then added, determined to regain control, "It helped clear my head. Last night was quite... unexpected."

"Was it?" Virginie's gaze was steady, amused even. "I don't think it was unexpected at all. Unfamiliar to you, perhaps, but not truly unexpected."

Caitlin felt a flash of irritation at this presumption. "I think I know my own mind, thank you."

"Do you?" Virginie asked, the question gently rather than confrontationally. "Most people don't, you know. They know the story they tell themselves about who they are, which is rarely the same thing."

The conversation was veering dangerously close to the territory of the night before... those moments when Virginie's insights had seemed to strip away Caitlin's carefully constructed self image, revealing something raw and unacknowledged beneath.

"Look," Caitlin said, setting her coffee down and straightening her posture, assuming the direct, authoritative demeanour that served her so well in professional negotiations. "Last night was extraordinary. I won't pretend it wasn't. But I think we should be clear about what it was and wasn't."

Virginie studied her for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. When she spoke, her voice had taken on that quiet, commanding tone that had so thoroughly undone Caitlin the night before.

"Remove your clothes."

Three simple words that shook Caitlin to her core. She blinked, certain that she had misheard.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me perfectly," Virginie said, her tone unchanged. "Remove your clothes, Caitlin. Now."

The rational part of Caitlin's brain, the part that had spent five miles constructing arguments and boundaries, immediately rebelled. This was absurd. They were sitting at her breakfast table, in her apartment, in full daylight. She had just spent an hour reinforcing her independence, her control, her normal self. There was no possible way she would comply with such a directive.

"This is ridiculous," she said, trying to inject dismissive amusement into her voice but hearing it waver slightly. "I'm not going to..."

"You're not going to what?" Virginie interrupted, her eyes never leaving Caitlin's. "You're not going to acknowledge what happens to your body when I speak to you this way? You're not going to admit that even now, after all your careful reconstruction of your controlled persona during your run, you feel something unravelling inside you at the mere suggestion of surrender?"

Caitlin opened her mouth to protest, but no words emerged. Because Virginie was right... her body had already betrayed her. Her heart was racing, she could feel her cheeks blushing, a burst of arousal rushing through her.

"This isn't..." she tried again.

"Stand up," Virginie said, the command soft but unmistakable.

And to Caitlin's profound shock and confusion, she found herself rising from her chair, her body responding to Virginie's voice before her mind could formulate a coherent objection.

"This is my home," she managed, a last desperate assertion of authority. "My space. You can't just..."

"Your home, yes," Virginie acknowledged, rising as well and moving toward her with that calm sense of purpose that seemed both predatory and elegant. "Your space, certainly. But are you still trying to pretend that you are your own? After last night? After what you've already given me?"

She stopped directly before Caitlin, close enough that Caitlin could feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint scent of her perfume. Without touching her, Virginie somehow seemed to be everywhere, encompassing all of Caitlin's senses, all of her awareness.

"I'll ask you once more," Virginie said, her voice dropping lower. "Remove your clothes."

Time stretched between them, taut as a wire. Caitlin stood frozen, caught between the person she had always believed herself to be and the person who had emerged in Virginie's presence. Between resistance and surrender. Between fear and desire.

Then, almost imperceptibly at first, her hands moved to the zip of her running jacket. Her mind screamed in protest, but her body remembered the liberation of the night before, the exquisite freedom of surrender. Slowly, she pulled the jacket off and let it drop to the floor.

"Good," Virginie said, her voice a gentle caress. "Continue."

Without breaking eye contact, Caitlin removed her sports bra, then her running shorts and underwear, until she stood naked in the golden morning light of her kitchen, her skin flushed with more than just the aftermath of her run.

"Beautiful," Virginie murmured, circling her slowly, not touching her but observing with appreciative eyes. "Even more so in daylight."

Caitlin should have felt exposed, vulnerable, ridiculous even. Instead, she felt a strange calm settling over her, a sense of rightness that defied logical explanation.

"Now," Virginie said, completing her circle to stand before Caitlin again, "tell me who you belong to."

The question should have outraged her... senior strategy consultant, Cambridge graduate, independent woman who belonged to no one but herself. Instead, she heard herself answering without hesitation, her voice soft but clear:

"You. I belong to you."

The words seemed to unlock something in them both. Virginie's composure, maintained so perfectly until now, shifted subtly, a flash of hunger in her eyes, a quickening of her breath. She reached up to cup Caitlin's face in her hands.

"Yes," she said simply. "You do."

She drew Caitlin's face to hers, lips meeting in a kiss that contained both tenderness and possession, acknowledgment and demand. Caitlin surrendered to it completely, her body melting into Virginie's, all thoughts of resistance forgotten.

When they separated, Virginie's expression was thoughtful, deliberate. "Kneel," she said softly.

Without hesitation, Caitlin sank to her knees on the kitchen floor, looking up at Virginie standing above her. The position should have felt humiliating, especially here in her own home, but instead, it felt right... a physical expression of the truth she had just acknowledged verbally.

"Stay there," Virginie said, returning to her chair at the breakfast table. She sat, crossing her legs elegantly, and picked up her coffee cup. "I want to look at you like this while I finish my breakfast."

Caitlin remained kneeling, naked on the hardwood floor of her kitchen, while Virginie calmly ate fruit and sipped coffee, occasionally glancing at her with quiet appreciation. Minutes passed, the only sounds the gentle Bach suite still playing in the background and the occasional clink of Virginie's mug on the table.

In the stillness of that moment, something profound settled within Caitlin. The woman who had returned from her run determined to reassert control, to end this unexpected interlude decisively, had vanished completely. In her place was someone new... or perhaps someone who had always existed beneath the carefully constructed façade of Caitlin the Senior Strategy Consultant and Cambridge Graduate, waiting for the right touch, the right voice, the right presence to call her forth.

Kneeling there, utterly exposed yet strangely at peace, Caitlin found herself reflecting on the extraordinary transformation that had occurred in less than twelve hours. All of her life she had equated power with control, achievement with autonomy, success with independence. She had constructed her identity around these principles, built her career on their foundation.

Yet here she was, willingly on her knees before a woman she barely knew, having declared her belonging to her... and feeling not diminished but somehow expanded by this surrender. The paradox would have been intellectually fascinating if it weren't so viscerally real.

In this moment of perfect submission, Caitlin understood with startling clarity that what had happened between them wasn't a temporary aberration or a momentary lapse in her normal control. It was a revelation of something essential, something that had always existed within her, waiting to be awakened by the right presence.

Virginie's voice interrupted her reflections. "Come here," she said, pushing her chair back slightly from the table.

Caitlin moved forward on her knees until she was directly before Virginie's chair, her naked body positioned between Virginie's legs.

"I'm leaving for Nice this afternoon," Virginie said, her fingers lightly stroking Caitlin's hair. "My flight is at four."

A pang of unexpected loss shot through Caitlin at the thought of Virginie's departure. "So soon?" she asked, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.

"I have commitments, responsibilities," Virginie replied. "As do you." Her fingers continued their gentle exploration of Caitlin's hair, trailing down to trace the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. "But this isn't an ending, Caitlin. It is merely the beginning of something far more significant than a single night or morning together."

She reached into the pocket of the borrowed shirt and extracted a small, cream coloured business card, holding it between two fingers. "Two weeks from now, you will come to me in Nice. Friday through Monday. We will continue what we've begun here, deepen it, explore further dimensions."

It wasn't phrased as a question or request, but as a simple statement of what would happen. And Caitlin, looking up at Virginie from her position of physical submission, felt the rightness of it to her core.

"Yes," she said simply, accepting both the invitation and the implicit acknowledgment that this was no passing encounter but the beginning of a profound journey.

"Good," Virginie said, a smile of genuine pleasure warming her expression. She placed the card on the table. "You'll make the necessary arrangements in your schedule." Again, not a question but a certainty.

"I will," Caitlin confirmed, already mentally rearranging her calendar, prioritising this commitment above all others.

Virginie studied her for a long moment, something almost tender in her gaze despite the unwavering authority of her posture. "Do you understand what's happening to you, Caitlin?"

"I think so," she said slowly. "I'm discovering something about myself that was always there but never acknowledged. A capacity for surrender that doesn't diminish my strength but somehow... completes it."

Virginie nodded, approval evident in her expression. "Yes," she said softly. "Exactly that. The integration of seemingly opposing aspects of your nature, control and surrender, power and vulnerability, independence and belonging." She leaned forward, her face closer to Caitlin's. "This is merely the first step on a much longer journey of discovery."

The words sparked both anticipation and a flutter of anxiety in Caitlin's chest. "Where does it lead?" she asked, genuinely curious about the path opening before her.

"That," Virginie said with a small smile, "is something we will discover together." She brushed her thumb across Caitlin's lower lip, a gesture that felt possessive. "But I can tell you this... it leads toward a more authentic expression of who you truly are, beneath all the careful constructions of your professional persona. Toward integration rather than a life lived in separate parts. Toward a freedom that comes not from maintaining perfect control, but from knowing when and to whom to surrender it."

The philosophy behind these words resonated with something deep within Caitlin, a truth she hadn't known she was seeking until this moment. Still kneeling, still naked, still in a position of complete physical submission, she felt a profound sense of alignment, as if disparate parts of herself were finally falling into their proper relation to each other.

"Now," Virginie said, her voice shifting subtly back to that tone of quiet command, "I want you to show me that you understand. That you accept this new reality between us."

She uncrossed her legs, spreading them wide, the borrowed shirt riding up to reveal that she wore nothing underneath. The invitation was clear, not needing to be verbalised.

Without hesitation, Caitlin leaned forward, her hands resting lightly on Virginie's bare thighs, and lowered her mouth between them. The taste, the scent, the sensation were both familiar from the night before and somehow entirely new in the morning light, in this context of conscious, deliberate submission.

As she moved her tongue in ways that she had learned Virginie preferred, as she felt Virginie's fingers tangle in her hair, guiding her pressure and rhythm, Caitlin experienced a moment of perfect clarity... a recognition that this act, performed willingly on her knees in her own kitchen on a Saturday morning, represented a more authentic expression of herself than anything she had experienced in years of professional success and carefully maintained control.

The paradox was beautiful in its completeness... that here, in this position of apparent subservience, she felt more fully herself, more integrated, more alive than in all her moments of professional authority and achievement.

Virginie's breathing quickened, her grip in Caitlin's hair tightening slightly as she got close to her peak. "Look at me," she commanded softly.

Caitlin raised her eyes without interrupting, meeting Virginie's gaze as she continued to pleasure her. The connection between them in that moment transcended the physical act... a recognition of something profound passing between them, an acknowledgment of a truth that had been waiting to be discovered.

When Virginie's orgasm hit, it was with a quiet intensity that seemed to flow through them both... a shared experience of pleasure and connection that sealed the unspoken contract between them. Caitlin remained on her knees, her face pressed against Virginie's thighs, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through this beautiful French woman's body.

After a moment, Virginie's hand moved in Caitlin's hair, stroking it with something like tenderness. "Beautiful," she murmured. "So perfectly responsive, so naturally submissive when you allow yourself to be."

Caitlin closed her eyes, accepting the praise with a warm glow of satisfaction. The woman who had returned from her run determined to reassert boundaries and control seemed like a distant memory... a character she had once played rather than her authentic self.

"Come," Virginie said, rising from her chair and extending her hand. "Let's shower. I want to enjoy every moment we have before I must leave for my flight."

Caitlin took her hand and stood, her body moving with a new awareness. As she followed Virginie toward the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror... naked, flushed, her hair dishevelled, her lips still glistening from Virginie's arousal.

But it was her eyes that captured her attention... clear, present, alive with a new understanding. The eyes of a woman who had discovered something essential about herself, who had crossed a threshold from which there was no return, who had found in surrender a freedom more profound than any autonomy had ever provided.

Nice. Two weeks from now. The next chapter of an extraordinary journey that had only just begun.

Caitlin smiled at her reflection, recognizing and welcoming the woman who gazed back at her... not the Senior Consultant, not the Cambridge graduate, not the rising star on the fast track to partner.

Simply, authentically, herself.

And belonging, now and perhaps forever, to Virginie.