Captivated

After our first – and last – intercourse, there hadn't been any sign of Becky for a while. Not a single message, not an unanswered phone call; both of the messages that I had sent had remained without an answer.

If nothing had happened to her, then it just had to be because of us having sex. As she had been the one initiating it, not even once but twice, the weirder it seemed.

That day in the hotel room after the shag, she had spent a lot of time in the shower, a terribly lot. Although it had been wonderful to lie in the warm and comfortable bed, I had still been troubled of why was she so much out of her usual self. Maybe she had indeed put her vibrator to good use, having fun one more time. Although, knowing her, I could have imagined that she'd do everything she could for every sound to be heard, not the other way around.

Even when the water had been turned off, she hadn't rushed back. Now that had been really odd; it hadn't happened before. Only after a great while had she appeared, towel-clad and arms crossed, her vibrating friend in her hand – turned off, of course – almost hidden under her upper arm.

'Your turn!'

She had indeed done something unusual, although not the first time. Only the towel she had used to dry herself had been left there hanging. She had returned with a fresh-looking one. This, of course, hadn't explained her longer shower than usual, but it had been 'a nice gesture'. The first thought had been that maybe she had even something further planned.

Having returned myself after a much quicker wash, the crumpled towel on the floor had been the only thing left from her.

Even if there had been an emergency, she would have let me know. The whole thing had reminded me more of some romantic movie where a woman, being seduced, disappears after an intimate moment. But… there hadn't been anything like that. Not even anything that would change the dynamics of our relationship. No risk at all that she'd lose her upper hand – she had been in control the whole time and had even made the whole experience rather humiliating. It also wasn't the first time for her to expose her body. Maybe she had exposed something in her soul she had instantly regretted?

After that, there had been nothing else to do than to move on. She wasn't the only domina in the wide world, although she was unique. The problem was that finding a real and steady domina isn't an easy task, therefore it had taken some effort to adjust the mindset. It was the best I could do, the other option would have been waiting and doing nothing. Any luck so far? Sort of… Nothing steady, but one or two hopeful prospects.

* * *

And… there it was, a message from Becky. Asking if I'd be up for a meetup, although she didn't reveal her actual motive. A few memories, which had started to fade, revived. Maybe it wasn't the best idea after the decision of moving on, but seeing each other might bring some clarification of why she had stayed distant. There was no harm, after all, for a quick chat. The possibility to talk things through was valid.

To talk things through… we had never done it. Everything we did began almost as if out of nowhere and developed like on its own. A joke about her assertive nature had led to another. Another joke about her being irresistible while being bossy had led to us mockingly acting it out. We hadn't even set the limits – somehow it had worked so far. Therefore, was the issue of Becky being away and unreachable for a while valid at all?

Becky herself chose the place. Technically it had looked like a proposal about the venue in her mind, but if she really would have wanted it to be a mutual decision – we did make mutual decisions after all – she would have formulated it maybe a bit differently. Suggesting some other place for a meeting would have only made her stricter in her choices and then it would have been a game of power with her victory awaiting. A laid-back 'sure, why not' had been a much better response.

I was almost on my way, but just as I was about to step out of the door, a thought sprang into my mind. Maybe it wouldn't be wise to show up aroused. Even a little sign of her – the message proposing a meetup – had brought along some lustful excitement. That excitement between the legs was back and in her presence it might have some unwanted impact.

Maybe it was just a smart consideration that had brought up the issue, but maybe it was one of the old memories instead. Hard to tell when there are too many thoughts, all mixed up, in the head.

It had been one of the first times with Becky. After all the fun we had had, I had been left without a release. We had already been fully dressed again – or at least I had been, as she hadn't had much to redon, only her socks, shoes and a jacket – and ready to leave when right there, at the door, her body had suddenly been pressed against mine. My arm had been trapped between us, her boob being pressed against it. Her boob had felt unexpectedly firm in the confinement of her bra and her shirt; the jacket had fortunately been unfastened. She had opened my trousers, lowered them only as much as necessary to have free access and jerked me off.

It had been fun as long as it had lasted, she hadn't even ruined it. But as we had already been in our outerwear, she had insisted that a proper cleanup was out of the question. A handkerchief had become somewhat useful – as much as it had been possible while having been rushed. Of course, it had been my attempt to clean myself, not her own handiwork, that had been delaying us.

But… on the way to meet her? No, no need to. What was awaiting ahead wasn't, after all, a business meeting or a negotiation, so that one should be in top shape with all possible distractions removed.

Her choice of the place appeared to be an excellent one – a nice quiet pub with finely priced beer, almost empty at the time chosen. Having reached there a bit before the agreed time, there was a chance to once more go through the situation, as well as past thoughts. However, by the time Becky appeared, there hadn't been much progress with it.

She looked exactly the same. The hairstyle hadn't changed – the opposite would have hinted that something significant might have happened – and neither had changed her style of clothing. Jeans, simple shoes and a jacket – just as it had always been. Everything was in place. Maybe there was nothing wrong after all and everything should continue as it had been…

Instead of coming to the table, Becky headed straight to the bar and had a chat with the barmaid, spending a fair amount of time there. It wasn't possible that she had missed my wave of hello and had decided to wait for me over there. After a little while she got her drink, yet remained where she was.

I could wait a bit longer. Besides, she was right in my view, no need to look over shoulder.

True, if we would have practised public humiliation, then she might have ignored me purposefully. The opportunity would have been almost perfect. Maybe she would have pretended that she didn't know me, maybe she would have given an impression of being angry, maybe something else along the line. Oh, worst of all the things that came to my mind – she could have just told me to go back to the table and wait.

This instance, however, seemed more like some weird feminine game.

Becky turned to search for something in her bag, looked at me and waved. A few more words with the barmaid as if being suddenly in a rush and finally… finally she came to the table.

'Sorry, she is my old friend. We haven't seen for a while.'

I had already opened my mouth to ask if she did it on purpose, lingered at the bar, but I took a chance to ask if her friend knew about her kinky side instead. It seemed a lot more crucial.

'Afraid?'

'Afraid that you two would team up?'

'No. Afraid that she would find out your… dirty interests? Or that you didn't have the courage to come up to me?'

Didn't have the courage to go there? No, it wasn't like that. It really wasn't. That's ridiculous…

So, about her friend behind the bar: 'Does she know?'

As Becky said, she hadn't told anyone. She didn't want anyone to know about her kinky side, especially her acquaintances.

She, however, didn't seem to be too keen on bringing up her purpose for the meetup. I had to start off myself: 'So, about last time…'

'What happened last time?'

There was no way she could have forgotten what had happened last time. Also, her tone gave away that she was messing with me.

'Don't you remember?'

'Oh, I do,' she giggled. 'I had to finish myself off with my… special toy.'

'You had already left when I came back from a quick shower.'

'So? What did you expect? Cuddling?'

Becky demonstrated a fantastic ability to give a technically accurate answer or reply while avoiding the point. While last time could be indeed a bit vague, already left most certainly wasn't.

Cuddling, however… No, after any kind of culmination Becky had always been distant. Did she really assume that I would have even hoped for lingering in the warm and comfortable bed much longer? With her? Thinking about life while being trapped underneath her casually outstretched limb or having my own accidentally pressed against her curves? And cuddling…!?

'Anyway, it's been a while since. Have you had a chance to disappoint any other girl?' She even acted it out by making an orgasmic face first and a disappointed one right after.

I could also steer the conversation away from the point: 'It's been awhile indeed…'

'So, I take it as a no.' Becky wasn't about give up her chosen path, leading the conversation where she thought of being fit.

Why did I want to avoid asking her directly? Why did it feel like it might lead straight to giving everything up? No more being bossed around, no more of Becky's legs, ass, feet, armpits, belly, backside. No boobs and fanny – things that had seemed completely out of question for long – either. Before the meetup it hadn't seemed to be such a problem, but it had become one after seeing her again. Maybe, if there had been an already established and working relationship with another domina, preferably as shameless and dirty as… As shameless and dirty as… Damned!

My gaze fell downwards as if the glass of beer was suddenly very interesting.

'What's the matter, not enough foam?'

The glass was half empty and even if it had been full, the head wouldn't have survived. That was, of course, irrelevant. Becky had referred to a certain episode from the past instead.

It had been one of the occasions with her when she had decided to level up the degree of kinkiness… or nastiness, depending on who has a say. I had been naked before her for a while, yet she had done nothing else than inspected me, now and then groping, squeezing and lightly slapping. Her extra-long T-shirt and jeans had remained on. It had been nice to be treated like this, but it also hadn't seemed to lead anywhere. Becky herself had appeared to be more and more anxious, just like waiting for something… Finally she had made me fetch a glass from the kitchen counter, which she obviously had prepared beforehand. An actual pint glass, not a piece of drinkware that would have accidentally been lying around.

Bringing it hadn't taken long, but by the time I had made my way back, she had got completely naked from the waist down. After grabbing it right from my hand, she had lifted the hem of her shirt from the front. Keeping her piece of clothing out of the way with her elbow while half-squatting, golden liquid had run into the glass.

It had been both dirty and stunning at the same time – Becky shamelessly having her legs opened and her nectar flowing from underneath her patch of a regrowing bush. As if being under a spell, I hadn't moved until the last drop had fallen. Seeing the stunned look in my eyes, she had asked the same question about foam. Without really waiting for any response, she had topped it up with her spit and handed it over.

Not that the outcome had looked anything like a head of a beer, far from it, but of course that hadn't been the objective.

'Now what? Warm? No way it is going to the fridge.'

And there, at the pub, she was staring from the other side of the table: 'So, have you had a chance to practise meanwhile? Last time you barely could drink a half.'

Now, this was something that wasn't entirely correct. I would have had the glassful finished, it would just have taken awhile. She had either become impatient or maybe she had decided to spare me.

It was possibly the time to reveal that not long ago I had made an arrangement with two German girls and a whole Maßkrug in mind.

Becky's eyes sharpened as if she couldn't believe a single word: 'Oh really, and their names were…?'

'Heidi… and Helga.'

Becky's face was eyeworthy with the scornful stare which sometimes appeared when there was something she was really unhappy with. Both, in and out of her dominant role.

'Don't lie to me!'

'Lie? Why do you think that?'

Of course, why shouldn't she have thought that? It was hardly believable that someone might stumble upon an opportunity more likely to be found in a porn movie. 'And couldn't you, at least, come up with better names? You even had to pause to make up the second one.'

It was a fair deduction, but it was not correct. While revealing the names, which I honestly had been given, these had indeed sounded weird. These two names just couldn't be in one single believable phrase. The brief pause hadn't been there to contrive the other one, but because I realised how ridiculous the honest answer would sound.

Becky wasn't satisfied, regardless of how many times I assured her that I hadn't been bullshitting. She even wondered if they both had also worn a dirndl. If her scorn hadn't been weirdly enjoyable, maybe I would have revealed a tiny unsaid detail – the arrangement had been made, but the Fräuleins themselves had cancelled the undertaking not long before it should have taken place. Not well before the arranged time, but still in advance. At least they had let me know.

Actually, as long as there is a backup plan to do something with the unexpected free time, a cancellation like this, though disappointing, is not the end of the world.

Being lied about names – understandable. For example, one can call me Thomas. Or Tom in a less formal setting.

Becky, however, took it as a completely made-up story.

'So, what about Mistress Amber… and Goddess Chloe? Did you enjoy trying to get them off?'

'Who are they? And why would I—'

Of course, they were Becky's invention. She said that she was able to make up stories and characters as well, with the difference that hers were way more believable.

About getting off Mistress Amber and Goddess Chloe… 'Well, I had to do something while you were away, torturing… bitch-boy Bruno.'

This game of verbal ping pong turned quickly into nonsense. When Becky herself had put on the brakes, she poked a bit if I was really in the course of finding a domina. Even though she started with 'seriously…', it didn't seem to be a fully forthright conversation, but at least she had brought the subject back to the initial tracks. Unfortunately, not for any longer than to find out that yes, there were indeed other dominas on the horizon.

My glass, with almost nothing in it by that time, caught Becky's eye. She emptied hers and asked if I'd care for one more.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to spend some more time in her company? To find out her intentions, that is…

Sure, why not…

'Well, drink up then!'

I finished mine and tried to get up in order to bring the new round, but Becky reached for her jacket: 'It's on me, you just wait here.'

Why would she need her outerwear to make a little trip to the bar? Well, she didn't. Along with the jacket, she also grabbed my now empty glass, which she slipped casually underneath. The bar wasn't her destination, she headed towards a door with a sign 'Ladies' on it instead.

* * *

Becky returned, her jacket still over one arm and the other one still tucked casually underneath. At least, points for creativity. Back at the table she put her piece of clothing away rather carelessly, without even a glance around. It wasn't a surprise at all that the glass, which she pushed over the tabletop, had yellowish liquid inside. The colour was a bit different shade than before – obviously some other brand, if it may be put like that.

Becky sat there and persistently gazed at me over the table. I stared at the glass, throwing a few glimpses towards her now and then.

'Now what? Not filled up to the brim?'

No, that wasn't the issue. When she had gone to the loo, instead of the counter, there had been no question about her plan. What was I supposed to do? Act like nothing had happened? So far everything had been on a bit different terms. To be used as she sees fit during our time together and to be used if she sees fit while being apart, these are not the same after all.

I had to come up with a solution. Getting up and leaving might have been one of the most reasonable options.

What was in the glass, however, smelt… dirty. There was still a certain unfinished thing. Last time when Becky had handed over a pint glass, it hadn't gone down too smoothly. Instead of just leaving, maybe it wouldn't hurt to…?

Suddenly the glass was in my hand. A few fingerprints were visible on the upper third of the warm vessel – something that definitely shouldn't be on the drinkware. But… the fingerprints were Becky's, left there while she carried and refilled it. The warmth was also hers. Her folds and inner thighs had possibly been wrapped tightly around the rim to spare her trousers, should her aim fail.

Time for talking was over. There was no teasing, even less mental preparation. She just sat tight and observed how the first mouthful went down. No reaction from her, she waited patiently for the next gulp to be consumed as well. Still no reaction from her. Becky definitely expected the glass to be empty. The third swig, however, never came. With most of the nectar still inside, I set it onto the table.

'Tastes like piss.'

I rose and left her sitting there with the glass in front of her. How she would get rid of it was now her little problem to deal with. Most likely it would take her another trip to the loo. No way she would consume it herself.

Fuck! What if she just left and anyone who would clean the table afterwards would find it… Maybe I should have thought the whole thing through.

On the other hand, Becky hadn't shared these kinds of secrets with her friend, therefore she surely wouldn't want to leave the glass on the table. After all, the barmaid had only seen her, and not me, making a trip to the toilet. Just leaving the glass as it was wouldn't have served her best interest.

Leaving like that was definitely the kind of move which just had to have consequences, whatever those would be. Becky might have taken it as 'go to hell for good', but also as an incentive for something extra torturous and challenging in the future. If she'd ever be able to lure me to another meetup, of course.