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Introduction:

The first chapter of Nadine's story.

Nadine and I had known each other slightly for years, our paths occasionally crossing in the smallish community we live in. Not friends, really – just a casual conversation once in a while when we happened to meet. And maybe just the slightest spark of something else, a hint of possibility not even tacitly acknowledged.

Then one day coincidence brought us both to the same Thai place for a late lunch. Very late, actually, as the serving area was about to close for the afternoon and there were only a few people still eating. So naturally we chose to eat together, seating ourselves in the closest booth, which was in the back corner.

We sat facing each other and made the usual small talk between people whose connection is long but not particularly deep: recent activities, mutual friends and acquaintances, etc. But something about our situation - isolated in a dark corner of the restaurant – lent itself to a gradual opening up of the conversation to a more personal level.

The topic gradually shifted to people we’d dated, turned analytical as we discussed why things hadn’t worked out with this one or that one, and gradually fell away into silence. Nadine looked down at her plate, then glanced up at me over her glasses long enough to murmur, “I always wondered what you thought of me,” before looking down again.

Taken by surprise, I didn’t reply immediately. I looked her over while I thought over what I knew about her; and what I’d heard, small towns being what they are.

Nadine was a real estate lawyer and occasionally a real estate agent as well, though she rarely wore both hats at the same time. She was slim, verging on thin, dressed simply but with some elegance in a cream-colored silk blouse, and dark-gray pleated skirt, and understated gold accessories: just a thin necklace chain and small earrings. She was, as mentioned, wearing her glasses: small, steel-colored frames that I thought gave something of a hard look to her already angular features. She wore very little makeup, aside from a minimal application of eye shadow and lipstick, and wore her long, straight brown hair brushed out and down to her shoulders in a side-part.

I waited until she looked up again before I spoke. “I’ve always had an interesting mix of impressions of you,” I began. “You seem like someone who is very focused, very organized, in your daily life.”

Nadine gave me a short nod. I continued, “I think you feel the need to present yourself as a strong personality in order to be successful. Some people probably find you kind of intense – maybe even a little abrupt.” Her hazel eyes widened slightly at this, but she gave me another, somewhat more doubtful nod. (Actually, “cranky bitch” was the phrase one of her ex-boyfriends had once used to describe her to me.)

I leaned forward and spoke more softly. “But I’ve always suspected that sometimes you get very tired of having to be that person – of always being in charge, always having to be the one to make sure that everything gets done properly.”

She stared through her glasses at me as if I were a mind-reader, too stunned to even nod. I went on, “I think there must be times when you wish you could completely let go. Just give up all control.” I hesitated, then asked, “Do you want me to go on?” This time she gave the barest of nods.

Again, I hesitated. “I may be completely wrong, and I want you to stop me if what I say is offensive to you. But I have to admit that I’ve wondered, more than once, whether you enjoy – or would enjoy, under the right circumstances – letting someone…take charge of you.”

She looked confused for a moment - then her eyes went wide as comprehension dawned. Her mouth tightened and she took a sudden breath through her nose and for a moment I thought she was angry. But then she let her breath out through her mouth in a barely discernible “Ohhhhhhhh…” and continued to stare at me without moving, her mouth now slightly open.

Sensing that I was on the right track, I continued in a softer voice, “…Whether you would enjoy having someone tell you what to do…” Unconsciously, Nadine nodded again. I braced myself and took the plunge, continuing, “…and put you over his knee and spank you if you didn’t do it just right… Or make you stand in the corner like a bad little girl.”

Unconsciously she leaned forward and placed her arms on the table, one hand over the other and gripping so tightly that the knuckles were white. She took a deep, quavering breath and held it, and I could almost see her small breasts swelling beneath her blouse. She looked as though she couldn’t let go of that breath until I went on.

“…Someone who would tie you up when he felt like it… Someone who would make you kneel…” I leaned forward even further and looked directly into her eyes. “…Or crawl on all fours at the end of a leash.” She looked as though she might pass out from lack of oxygen so I said, “Breathe.”

She was just barely able to let the air out of her lungs in a kind of long gasp, “Huuuuuuunnnhhh…,” before taking another short, gulping breath.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, Nadine?”

She stared at me, glassy-eyed.

“That’s what you need in your life – isn’t it, Nadine?”

Nothing.

“Isn’t it?”

Her eyes closed of their own accord as her breath hissed out, “Yessssssss….”

I placed my hand over her clasped ones. Her eyes opened slowly. “Even just this conversation is turning you on, isn’t it, Nadine?” And before she could reply I added, “You’re wet – aren’t you, Nadine?”

I was so close to her face now that I could actually see the pupils of her eyes dilate in shock behind her glasses, both at what I had said and the realization that it was true. Her gaze darted away from mine and returned several times.

I tightened my grip on her hands slightly. “I’m waiting for your answer, Nadine.”

By now she didn’t seem to be breathing in or out, or even blinking. She stared at me, trapped. Finally she looked down at the table. After a long moment she spoke, in a barely audible voice: “Yes.”

I gently shook her clasped hands with mine until she looked up at me again. I gave her a small nod of encouragement, letting her know she was doing well, then spoke again: “Yes…what?”

For a moment there was a flare of anger in her eyes at this deliberate attempt at humiliation. I held her gaze and watched as she struggled with the impulse to simply get up and leave, and perhaps even slap my face first. But finally she realized that my provocation had made her even more aroused than before, and she looked down again. I could see her face turning beet-red as she whispered, “Yes, I… I’m… I’m…w-wet.”

She sat there, avoiding my gaze, trying to breathe slowly in and out through her nose to calm herself. But I gave her no chance to recover. Reaching over with my free hand I tilted her chin up so that she had to meet my gaze again, and then I said, “Your panties are wet too, aren’t they, Nadine?”

This time I refused to let her look away. I maintained my hold on her chin and every time her eyes moved from mine I gave her chin a little twitch to bring her back. She quickly realized what was expected and forced herself to look at me as she replied, “Y-yes, my… My pan… my p-panties are wet, too.”

I smiled warmly at her then and, to her own surprise, no doubt, she gave me a tremulous smile in return. I gave her hands a small squeeze with mine and she turned her topmost hand palm up to take mine. I released her chin and we sat there for a moment, looking at each other and enjoying our new understanding.

Then I withdrew my hand from hers and stood up. For a moment she thought I was leaving her just like that, and started to speak, but subsided when I stopped next to her, bent down and placed my arm around her shoulders. The serving area was deserted and now we both had our backs to the rest of the tables and the few patrons still dawdling over their meals.

I leaned down to her. Perhaps she was expecting me to whisper something affectionate, or give her a small kiss, because her gasp of surprise was quite audible when I said, close to her ear, “Show me.”

Her head swiveled towards me and she found herself momentarily facing my erection, clearly outlined through my black jeans, before she raised her face to mine. “You…You mean my…” She hesitated, realized that I would make her complete the sentence anyway, and finished, in a whisper “…panties? H-here?”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off of her, then added, deliberately, “Your…wet panties.”

She blinked and then froze again, breathing in little more than gasps through her mouth. Not taking my gaze off of hers, I added, “Now, Nadine.”

Slowly Nadine lowered her hands to her lap. Then she reached under the table, grasped the hem of her skirt and began to draw it, even more slowly, up her thighs. I kept my gaze locked on hers, not bothering to look down, even when I could see from the corner of my eye that a tiny triangle of blue fabric had been exposed. I simply said, “Higher.”

She let out a soft moan and complied, pulling the front of her skirt up to her waistline, revealing a pair of simple but expensive-looking sky-blue silk panties. Her thighs were clenched firmly together and almost immediately she began to lower her skirt again, but I was still holding her gaze and stopped her with a shake of my head. Again, slowly, she raised her skirt to where it had been.

I still hadn’t so much as glanced down. I leaned closer and said, “Now… spread your legs for me, like a good girl.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, then opened again. The look in them was pleading, and she was biting her lower lip. She was dying to speak, I could tell – to beg me to release her from my last instruction – and it was a measure of how far she’d fallen under my influence that after a long moment of staring into my eyes she simply… obeyed.

Her own eyes became slightly edged with tears as she parted her legs – slightly at first, then wider, then finally as far apart as the padded bench in the booth would allow her. Her hands, still holding her skirt up to her waist, were shaking.

But she kept her gaze on my face even when I broke eye contact to finally look down between her legs. And even when I reached over her shoulder, as if gesturing at something on the table, and allowed the fingertips of my free hand to drift down and then rest lightly on the moist, dark patch in the crotch of her panties, all she did was take a long, shuddering breath through her mouth and let it slowly out again.

I returned my gaze to hers. Her eyes were half-closed, but they flew open as I began to stroke her, delicately, through her panties. I said nothing, just continued with what I was doing until the tips of my fingers were coated with her juices and she was quivering in her seat as she attempted to suppress the moans that were forcing their way past her lips, which were clamped shut.

Her hips jerked involuntarily when I removed my hand, but she kept her skirt raised and her legs spread. “Good girl,” I said softly, and was rewarded with a grimace that might have been a smile.

She watched in silence as I raised my fingers to just below my nose and inhaled the fragrance from their tips. When I held them out for her she obediently inhaled through her nose, but I could tell she was so stunned by everything that had happened already that she was barely aware of what it was she was smelling. So I lowered my hand slightly and pressed the tips of three fingers to her lips. After a moment she allowed her mouth to soften as I traced her lips, lightly covering them with her own juices and smearing her lipstick in the process.

I played with her lips a little more roughly then, pushing them this way and that and pulling her lower lip down while she continued to stare up at me – still holding up her skirt and keeping her legs spread. But when I slowly but relentlessly pushed my fingers past her teeth and into her mouth she couldn’t help herself: she slapped her hands down to grasp the seat as her hips began to buck again, and let out a muffled moan.

I quickly removed my hand, leaned down to her ear and spoke. “You will not come, Nadine. Do you hear me? Stop it, right now.”

And to her credit Nadine managed to get herself under control, leaning forward, clenching her hands into fists on her lap and forcing herself to breathe through her nose until the wave had passed. And when she was finally able to raise her face to mine again she stared at me as if I was a complete stranger, not someone she’d known for years. She was in complete shock.

I lifted my hand from her shoulder and stroked her hair. “You’re doing really well, Nadine - amazingly well, in fact. I’m very proud of you.” I continued to stroke her hair and gently massage the back of her neck until she finally began to relax the tension in her shoulders and catch her breath. When her eyes seemed to lose their glazed quality and she was able to give me a hint of a smile, I said, “I know this was a lot for you to handle all at once like that. Are you still feeling overwhelmed?”

She looked inward for a moment, assessing herself and her reactions, then replied, her voice tentative, “N-no, I’m… I’m all right, I think. Whew.” This time her smile was genuine, though still vulnerable, as she looked up at me.

“And does this all feel… right to you?” I continued stroking her hair. “I don’t want to continue if this isn’t a direction you want to go in.” I looked deeply, searchingly, into her eyes and waited for her answer.

She returned my gaze for as long as she could, then looked down for a long moment before slowly turning her face back up to mine. Her confusion was evident in her expression as she replied. “I… I don’t know. I think so, but it’s all so…” Her voice trailed off.

“I know,” I said soothingly, “This is all new territory. But let me ask you this: is what just happened anything at all like what you’ve imagined?”

She looked down again and after a moment, whispered, “Yes. Very much.” She raised her eyes to mine and added, “But I certainly never imagined it happening here.” She tilted her head to indicate the restaurant behind us and actually giggled. I smiled at her in return, then gently cupped the back of her head to indicate that she should pay attention to what I was about to say.

“I have to get back to work, and I assume you do too.” She looked startled for a moment as she suddenly remembered the life she had been living just a short time ago and now had to return to, then nodded. I continued, “I think you would find it very distracting to try to work in those sopping wet panties, don’t you?”

She blinked at this sudden return to what we’d been doing, but managed to nod, slowly, and reply, “Y-yes, I guess s…”

“Take them off.”

Her eyes darkened at my peremptory tone and I saw her open her mouth, ready to spit out her refusal. She got as far as “N-“ before I seized her by her hair and yanked her head back so that she was nearly facing the ceiling. She gasped at the sudden pain but managed not to cry out.

I stood over her and looked down into her face as I said, quietly, “You were about to make a mistake…weren’t you, Nadine?”

Her eyes blazed for a moment with a combination of pain and outrage, but I simply continued to grasp her hair in my fist and hold her in my gaze. Her face contorted with conflicting emotions for a few seconds more, but something she saw in the way I was looking at her must have reassured her because she finally relaxed, nodded as well as she could, considering my grip, and whispered, through teeth still gritted with pain, “Yes, I was. Thank you.” She even gave me another shy little smile.

I released my hold on her and she sagged back into place with an audible sigh of relief. But she wasted no time: she quickly reached under her skirt with both hands, raised her hips off the seat and slid her panties down around her ankles, bending forward to hold on to them as she freed them from her shoes. She quickly wadded them up into a ball with both hands, which she then placed on her lap before looking back up at me for approval.

“Hold them out in front of your face, Nadine.” The restaurant was now completely empty, except for anyone who might have been in the kitchen, but of course Nadine didn’t know that because she was sitting with her back to the room.

She moaned as she complied, using the fingertips of both hands to hold out her panties, the damp crotch a much darker shade of blue than the rest. She stared as I reached out with my free hand and began rubbing the fabric of the crotch between my thumb and first two fingers as I spoke.

“You’re going to want to touch yourself today or this evening, Nadine. That’s only to be expected. But you’re not going to do it. Is that understood?”

She nodded as if hypnotized, unable to take her eyes off of what I was doing with her panties.

“Tomorrow you will dress for work as you usually do. But you will not wear pantyhose or panties.”

This succeeded in bringing her attention back to me. Her eyes were slightly unfocused but she managed to whisper. “All right.”

I gently pulled the panties from her fingers, folded them over twice and stuffed them into my front pocket. She watched my every move. Then I took out a pen, wrote a phone number on a napkin and placed it in front of her. “Tomorrow at exactly 4:45 pm you will call this number. You will not say hello or ask whom you’re speaking with or anything else. You will simply say, ‘May I please have my panties back?’ Nothing else. Understood?”

Her eyes seemed to become even more unfocused, as if she were drifting off into a dream-state, but after a long moment she gave me a single, slow nod. Then, almost inaudibly: “…Yesssssss…”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s get back to work.” I turned to go but this seemed to snap her out of her trance because she seized my hand in one of hers and drew me back to where I’d been standing. I looked down at her, questioning. With her free hand she removed her glasses, then leaned into me and rubbed her cheek against the front of my jeans like an affectionate kitten. And after a few moments she turned her face and kissed me there, lightly.

Then she looked up at me and whispered, “Thank you,” before letting go of my hand. I smiled, stroked her hair one last time, and took my leave.

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