The moment of truth

[ja****]

*The Coffee Shop

You agreed to meet me at your local coffee shop, a place drenched in pastel dreams, with pink and purple pastries lined up like dollhouse decorations. It was almost too soft, too sweet for the kind of mood I intended to set. But that contrast was deliberate.

I had given you precise instructions: a blue sundress, white sandals, red toenails. Specific enough to rattle something inside you. Random enough to disarm.

You showed up exactly as I’d told you to, shoulders drawn tight, eyes flitting nervously across the room. You weren’t fully present your body sat across from me, but your mind was still scrambling for footing. That was expected.

We sat at a small round table in the center, exposed under the soft hum of conversation and coffee machines. I watched you scan the café, restless, unfocused.

Leaning in slightly, I asked gently, “What would you like to have?”

You hesitated, voice barely above a whisper.
“Green tea, please.”

I nodded once, then met your eyes with a firmer tone.
“Place your palms flat on the table. Sit still. Look straight ahead. No left, no right. Just… stay.”

Your breath caught, and I saw the flicker of uncertainty. ***, even. But that was part of it. That’s what I wanted. I didn’t want you immersed in the world. I wanted you unplugged from it, detached. The noise around you, the laughter, the clinking of spoons, the music,it was irrelevant now.

You sat still, awkwardly motionless amid all the life around you. An unnatural statue in a natural setting. That pleased me.

When I returned, I carried a plate of red velvet cheesecake and a small, dark cup of espresso. I placed them in front of you, deliberate and precise.
“Eat,” I said. “Drink. Your choices aren’t needed anymore.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the fork. I said nothing.

The quiet obedience, the hesitation, the shallow breaths… it was all part of your surrender.

*The Drive

Later, as we walked to my car, I let my hand rest gently on the small of your back. Not with lust, but with possession. A subtle reminder you were not drifting anymore. You were orbiting something. Me.

I opened the door for you, and you slid into the passenger seat without a word. Once I settled into the driver’s side, I didn’t look at you when I spoke.
“Take off your panties.”

Silence.

You hesitated, but I didn’t repeat myself. I didn’t need to.

You reached beneath your dress and slowly slid them down. I watched only through the corner of my eye, patient and controlled. Once they were off, I said simply:
“Fold them.”

You obeyed.

I opened my hand, and without a word, you placed them in my palm. I didn’t even look at them as I tossed them onto the dashboard, carelessly.

No reverence. No ceremony.
Just another object. Another piece of you given up, piece by piece.

All that trembling. All that hesitation.

It didn’t matter now.

The ride was silent.

I didn’t speak, and you didn’t dare to. The city outside blurred through the windows, but you weren’t watching. Your folded hands rested in your lap, bare beneath the dress now, skin pressed against the seat, warm with the weight of vulnerability.

I reached over once to adjust the radio. Classical. Soft strings drifting through the air like silk, unassuming but deliberate. Like everything else.

*Arrival

We pulled into my driveway, and I didn’t say a word as I stepped out and walked to your door. You waited. Good. You were learning.

I opened it for you and held out my hand again not asking, not offering. Just claiming. You took it without question, rising to stand before me. I led you inside, my hand returning to the small of your back.

You felt it, didn’t you? The moment you crossed that threshold. The shift. The silence here wasn’t the same as the café. It wasn’t public, gentle, or uncertain. It was heavy. Private. Charged.


You followed silently, your steps unsure but your eyes burning with something deeper need, maybe. Or maybe desperation dressed as defiance. You were aching for a weak moment in me, something to cling to, something that would let you rebuild your strength through me. But I couldn’t give you that. Not yet. Not tonight.

The door shut behind us with a final, echoing sound. You stood there in the hallway, still and unsure, like a prayer waiting to be answered. I didn’t say a word. I walked past you, heading to the bathroom. I washed my hands slowly, deliberately, letting the water run warm over my skin.

Through the mirror, I saw you, motionless, eyes darting. And I said, “It’s time to get on your knees.”

You dropped quietly. Obedient. Breath held. Wanting something, control, surrender, maybe both.

I poured myself a drink. Whiskey. No ice. The burn was familiar, grounding.

I approached you slowly, letting the anticipation stretch. You kept your eyes low, but I could feel the heat of your gaze following every step. I squatted in front of you, my fingers sliding into your hair, slow and steady. You leaned into my touch without thinking.

“It’s not about me,” I said softly. “Whatever happened today, your pleasure, your ***, your ache, your chaos, it’s all you. I’m just a tool. A conduit for your truth. I don’t take. I only receive what you’re willing to give.”

You looked up, lips parted, stunned. You had expected dominance. Ownership. Use. But instead, I handed you the mirror. And in it, you saw power.

“But… you don’t want me to pleasure you?” you asked.

I smiled. “I’m just an idea. I only exist because you need me to. What I take from this is your willingness to use me.”

Something shifted in your eyes then, clarity, hunger, a taste of something primal. I reached up and turned your head slowly, gently, toward the table where I had laid out the tools. Floggers. Ropes. Paddles. Whips. Toys of many kinds. Laid with care, with purpose.

“Crawl,” I said. “Go there. Take your time. And choose not what you think I want but what you truly need. Don’t impress me. This isn’t a performance.”

You moved, your dress slipping further with each inch of motion, your bare ass catching the light. Every crawl was an act of decision. Every movement, an offering.

When you reached the table, your hand hovered only for a moment before it wrapped around the whip. You didn’t hesitate.

You looked back. “May I have the whip?”

I raised an eyebrow. “May I have the whip what?”

You swallowed. “May I have the whip, Sir?”

I stepped forward. Slowly. Took the whip from your hands like a holy thing.

“Why?” I asked.

You hesitated. Then: “Because I want to feel something real.”

I nodded.

“Then you will.”

I moved behind you, dragged the leather across your skin not to hurt, not yet, but to remind you what you’d asked for. What you were becoming.

“This isn’t punishment,” I whispered. “This is your reflection. Every sting. Every sound. A language your body has waited too long to speak.”

Your breath caught. And I knew you were ready.

“Go to the center of the room. Hands behind your head. Knees wide. Back straight. Eyes closed. Stay there until you remember who you are.”

And you did.

Not because you were weak
But because you were ready to be seen

[ja****]

Okay, I wanted to hate this some where and kept reading... And it was well written, clever and I'm impressed.. well done.

[ja****]

Hating? Why? Is it the fact that the sub have the power over the dominant?

[Deleted Member]

I nearly skimmed past this as I thought it was too long. I am so glad I didn't!!! I felt everything you described, a pseudo-submission if you will. What you have written is exactly how the exchange of power should be viewed. I look forward to reading more! x

[ja****]

5 minutes ago, xLittle_Lady_of_Lotx said:

I nearly skimmed past this as I thought it was too long. I am so glad I didn't!!! I felt everything you described, a pseudo-submission if you will. What you have written is exactly how the exchange of power should be viewed. I look forward to reading more! x

Well thank you, glad you didnt.. i usually write on my profile

[Deleted Member]

1 minute ago, jaykkolins said:

Well thank you, glad you didnt.. i usually write on my profile

I will have a look. Thank you for letting me know x

[Se****]

Everytime stories like this,makes me think, How do u know exactly what I need when I dont know why and what im here for and what im looking here for? And then I read this. Put myself in the character and ask myself, will I obey? Can I stay being quiet and wait ? Tbh, i dunno. But deep inside i want someone to take control of me, that I don't have to think or worry anything. Just to follow. Just to obey.

[ja****]

10 minutes ago, central-fire12345 said:

Everytime stories like this,makes me think, How do u know exactly what I need when I dont know why and what im here for and what im looking here for? And then I read this. Put myself in the character and ask myself, will I obey? Can I stay being quiet and wait ? Tbh, i dunno. But deep inside i want someone to take control of me, that I don't have to think or worry anything. Just to follow. Just to obey.

Thats the question.. “will i” when you have a choice then its compromising quick fix, session oriented, surrendering requires trust, mirroring, power..and above all accepting “as one of my favorite mistresses once said:” avoiding the disconnect of obedience”

[ja****]

11 minutes ago, central-fire12345 said:

Everytime stories like this,makes me think, How do u know exactly what I need when I dont know why and what im here for and what im looking here for? And then I read this. Put myself in the character and ask myself, will I obey? Can I stay being quiet and wait ? Tbh, i dunno. But deep inside i want someone to take control of me, that I don't have to think or worry anything. Just to follow. Just to obey.

Also we crave the same thing, even the most dominant ones they crave submission

[ja****]

Discomfort of obedience