MALEDOM FEMSUB D/S EROTICA
Evie’s Date
Evie discovers her submissive side when her friend sets her up on a blind date with a handsome, commanding stranger.
(Mdom, Fsub, consensual, D/s, embarrassment)
Evie had never had much luck in romance. She met nice guys, she dated them, she got as far as sex — and then the problems would begin. She never seemed to get very aroused. The men would think she wasn’t interested — and the truth was, she kind of wasn’t. She wasn’t asexual — she wanted sex — but her pussy just never seemed to get very wet when the time came. The men would politely back off, and the relationship would end. They clearly thought she was frigid, and Evie began to think that they were right.
Eventually, Evie’s friend Shauna, frustrated, set Evie up on a date with a man named Julius.
“Shauna, I don’t need another date with some guy,” Evie complained.
“Give this a go,” urged Shauna. “Julius is… different. If it doesn’t work, I’ll stop hassling you.”
And so Evie found herself dressed up, nervous, waiting on a stool at a cocktail bar for Shauna’s mysterious friend. She had come early, and now regretted it, as she was filled with pre-date nerves.
Julius arrived exactly at the agreed upon time. He was dressed in an expensive suit and white shirt, with no tie. He walked directly to her, and sat next to her. His gaze was direct and intense. Evie shivered.
“You’re Evie,” he said. The way he said it, it wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” Evie replied.
“You’re on time,” he said. “Good girl.”
Evie blushed. The way he said it — “good girl” — was demeaning, like she was a child or a pet — but at the same time it felt pleasant, like receiving praise from a parent.
“Hi…” Evie started to say, but Julius talked over the top of her.
“You’re attractive, and you’re interesting,” he told her. “I’m not here to fuck around. If you don’t like what’s happening, at any time, you say ‘red’ — nice and loud. If that happens, I make sure you’re taken care of, and then I leave, immediately, and you never hear from me again. Understand?”
Evie was taken aback at his brusqueness. “Yes…” she said, hesitantly.
“Show me you understand,” Julius said, holding eye contact with her. “What do you say if you don’t like what’s happening?”
“Red,” said Evie.
“Louder,” said Julius.
“RED,” said Evie, loud enough that a man nearby turned to look at her. She blushed, and shook her head in a way that indicated that she was okay, she didn’t need an intervention, and the man turned away again.
“Good girl,” said Julius. “You say ‘red’ again, for any reason, I make you safe, and I leave.”
“I understand,” said Evie.
“Good girl,” said Julius again. Evie realised she was beginning to like hearing him say that. She wanted to make him say it again.
“Should we order drinks?” she asked.
“No,” said Julius. “I want you sober. I want to know you know what you’re doing.” He broke eye contact to look around the bar briefly, and then smiled. “Take off your panties and give them to me.”
Evie was startled, and she blushed, embarrassed. Had anyone heard him say that? “What?” she asked, although she had heard perfectly well.
Julius’ smile vanished. “Evie, if you make me repeat myself again, I will slap you across the face. I’m telling you that so that if you have a problem with that, you can leave right now. Now listen carefully — take off your panties and give them to me.”
Evie realised she was breathing very quickly. She should leave. He had threatened to hit her. That wasn’t okay. Only — had he? She could leave. If she didn’t want to be slapped, she *should* leave. And she *didn’t* want to be slapped, so….
Except that, for some reason, her pussy was wet. Like, distractingly wet. Wetter than it had ever been on a date before. It was throbbing.
She felt herself obeying. She felt distanced from it, like it wasn’t her doing it. After all, she wasn’t the sort of girl who’d just take off her panties for a man she’d only just met. She lifted her ass off the bar stool, slid her fingers under her short skirt, hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties, and slid them down her legs, to her ankles, then over her high heels and free. She looked at them — pink, lacy panties. Fuckable panties. Although not, she supposed, as fuckable as going without panties altogether…
Had he hypnotised her? She wanted to think he had. Then this wasn’t something that she was doing. It was something she was being made to do. Was it better if she was being forced? Her pussy throbbed at the thought. It *liked* the idea of being forced. Only, she knew it wasn’t hypnotism. It was all her. He had told her to give him her panties, and she *wanted* to obey. She wanted to obey because…
She handed him the panties. She didn’t think she could possibly blush any harder.
“Good girl,” he said, taking them from her, and smiled.
Sheer pleasure rushed through her. Yes, she *liked* it when he told her she was a good girl. She *wanted* to be a good girl for him.
This was all so confusing. Her nipples were so hard. She almost wanted to cry, but not bad crying — just that she needed time to process, to understand why she was behaving like a slut, why she wasn’t leaving, why she wasn’t saying “red”.
“Stand up and follow me outside,” he said. He stood up and walked to the exit, not bothering to look to see if she followed.
She did follow, trailing behind him like a pet. A pet that didn’t have any panties on. She felt like everyone in the bar must be aware of her, aware that she wasn’t wearing underwear, aware of her bare (and increasingly wet) cunt, aware of the submissive way she was following Julius outside.
He led her to a nearby car park, to a sleek black car. He opened the rear door, and pointed to the back seat. She thought he was going to tell her to get in — but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, and grabbed a fistful of her hair. She squeaked with surprise — and she was glad she had squeaked, because if she hadn’t, she would have moaned with lust. His hand felt so *good* in her hair. She felt so *controlled*.
He used his grip to push her down, towards the car, and she obediently climbed into the car, until she was seated, and he released her.
“Sit in the middle,” he told her, then took the driver’s seat himself.
As he started the car, she shivered. Not only had she given this man her panties, but she was now letting him drive her away. She didn’t even know where she was going. He could be driving her anywhere. He could be abducting her. Maybe he was going to rape her. Shauna knew she was out on a date with Julius, at least, but that didn’t make Evie safe.
She should say “red”. She should say “red” before she was raped.
She stayed silent.
Julius drove silently until they were away from the bars and nightclubs. Then he said, “Spread your legs.”
Evie pressed her lips together tightly, willing herself to stop blushing. She couldn’t. She knew what she was going to do. She couldn’t stop herself.
She parted her legs.
She could see Julius’ eyes in the rear view mirror, flicking from the road, to her in the back seat, and back to the road. He must have a perfect view of her in the mirror. A perfect view of her crotch.
“Spread them further,” Julius said.
Evie spread them further. They were wide apart now. He should be able to clearly see her shaved, engorged, aroused sex mound.
His eyes met hers in the rear view.
He didn’t say anything else.
Evie almost moaned with frustration. He hadn’t said anything else. But there was something she *needed* him to say.
Her cheeks bright red with shame and arousal, she slowly moved her hands to her thighs, and slid the hem of her skirt up, until it was bunched around her waist, fully exposing her cunt to the eyes of Julius — or of anyone who looked through the car window, for that matter.
She saw Julius’ smile in the rear view.
“Good girl,” he said. Finally.
Evie trembled with pleasure.
Here she was, sitting in the car of a strange man, her pussy sopping wet and bare to the world, and she had never felt so *excited*. She felt like a disgusting slutty whore, and it filled her with shame — and she couldn’t make herself stop.
Julius stared at her cunt every second that the driving would allow for the rest of the trip. He was silent, and Evie was silent, and the longer he looked at her pussy, the wetter Evie got.
Finally, they came to a stop at a large house in the suburbs. It was dark, with only a small light by the front door providing illumination. Julius parked the car in the driveway, exited his seat, came around to the rear door, and opened it. Evie looked up at him expectantly. Part of her knew what was coming.
He got her out the same way he had put her in. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled.
Evie fell out of the car onto the driveway in an undignified way — on all fours, like a dog. Her skirt was still bunched around her waist, and she panicked that her ass and cunt were exposed to the entire street. Her hand flew to her skirt to tug it down.
Julius slapped her hand away. “Bad,” he said, sharply, and that was all that was needed to stop Evie trying again. She tried to rise to her feet instead, but Julius pushed her back down, and she stayed there on all fours, humiliated, her bare anus winking at the roadway and her exposed cunt drooling the juices of her arousal down her inner thighs.
“Crawl,” said Julius, and walked over to the front door of the house.
I should say “red”, thought Evie. I should ask to go home. Once I’m in his house, who knows what will happen? He can’t expect me to crawl like a dog. That’s too degrading. No woman should do that. What if my friends knew I was doing this? They’re feminists. They’d be disgusted with me. They’d call me a slut. I *am* a slut, if I do this.
Slowly, Evie crawled across the driveway, and then the lawn, to the front door of the house. The grass was cool against her hands and knees. The night air chilled her naked cunt. Her tits hung down beneath her, threatening to swing free of her loose dress. She knew that if they *did* swing free, she wouldn’t put them back. Not unless Julius let her. Not unless he told her to.
Julius looked down at her as she reached the door. She looked up, seeking approval.
“Good bitch,” he said — and somehow that was even better than “good girl”. Evie felt like she might be able to orgasm just from hearing those words, if he said them again. She wanted to be a good bitch. She wanted to be *his* good bitch.
And then they were inside.
Julius pulled her to her feet by her hair, and shut the front door behind her. He casually uncinched her skirt and threw it in a corner, leaving her with nothing to cover her pussy.
“You know what’s going to happen now,” he said to her. “And it’s going to start with me slapping you across the face — not because you’ve been disobedient, but just because it will give me pleasure to slap you. After that, I’m not going to be gentle, I’m going to take what I want, and I don’t give a fuck whether it hurts you, do you understand?”
She found herself trembling with fear, but she didn’t want to make him repeat himself, so she quickly said, “Yes, I understand.”
“Do you know what you say to make this stop?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, her breath catching in her throat.
“That still applies,” he said.
“I understand,” she said.
He waited. The wait was excruciating. Five seconds — ten — or had it been five *minutes*? She had never been more aware of her cunt in her entire life.
She stayed silent.
Finally, he smiled — a real, passionate, pleased smile — and said, “Good bitch.”
This time, Evie *did* moan, a moan of slutty, degraded lust, a moan that was cut short when Julius slapped her hard across the face, hard enough to knock her down onto the plushly-appointed sofa behind her.
As her nude ass hit the sofa, Evie felt herself orgasm. Time seemed to slow down, and she had a moment to fully appreciate what it meant. She had *cum*, like a whore, from being *slapped* by a man, as a prelude to him *raping* her. She could make it stop, but she wasn’t doing that. She was letting it happen.
Julius reached out for her top, and pulled. It ripped, exposing her tits, with their eager, erect nipples begging for Julius’ attention. She hadn’t worn a bra. She was naked now except for her high heels.
Julius was taking off his belt. Almost casually, he doubled it up in his hands, and lashed it at her. It hit her tits, which exploded with pain — and she orgasmed again. He brought it down again, aiming for her cunt, and she had a third orgasm as the leather slammed into her cunt-flesh.
Then he was grabbing her hair with one hand, undoing his fly with the other, and before she could react his hard, erect cock was pushing past her lips and plugging her throat. She made an indistinct, slutty noise, more animal than woman, and began to eagerly deepthroat the cock. She had never done that before — she had kissed a cock, but never given oral sex, and certainly never taken a cock so deep — but it came to her naturally and immediately.
“Good bitch,” said Julius, voice husky with lust, and she orgasmed again.
She wanted him to cum in her mouth, but Julius had other plans, and soon he pulled her off his cock by her hair, and pushed her down over the edge of the sofa, ass up, tits down. He stood behind her, and she felt the tip of his cock poke at her pussy lips.
He paused there, and she knew she had one more chance to say the word — to say “red”.
Instead, she bucked her hips backwards, driving his cock deep inside her.
As Julius began to rape her pussy, she had a sudden vision of herself. In her vision, she was nude, on all fours. Around her neck was a dog collar, and attached to it was a leash that Julius was holding. She saw her tits — were they big and plastic now? Would Julius like her that way? Or did he prefer natural? But either way, there was a tattoo on her chest just above her breasts. It read “Good Bitch”. She knew she would never be able to wear a dress that showed her cleavage without showing that tattoo. She knew that was exactly as it should be. And on her groin, just above her pussy, was another tattoo. It read, “I Consent.”
She orgasmed again at the vision. She knew it was the future. She knew it was *her* future.
And she wanted nothing more in all the world….
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