Last night’s dinner was a happy success. Date number 1 is now going to be referred to as “t”. I might change this later on, but for now, “t” will suffice.
“t” was on time and dressed in shirt and tie, just as instructed. Both boy toys were given the same instructions, and both looked incredibly dashing. He met us at the door, and I could tell he had some nervous but excited energy about him. I smiled at this. I had a good feeling that he and my boy were going to hit it off, and they appeared to do just that.
We got a corner table in the back. Not one I would normally seek or even approve of (no one puts baby in the corner, remember??) but it seemed appropriate.
I had instructed each boy toy to bring with them three to five questions that they would present to the other. They each wrote down five things they wanted to know about the other. The list also included one thing they wanted to share with the other regarding something they were concerned about. An example could be, “I am worried about pain, and how much I can tolerate”. That sort of thing.
We each ordered a big, lovely cocktail and that helped set the stage. All three of us are foodies and specialty cocktail people, so it was a good platform form which to start chatting. The tally of similar interests what significant, and talking was easy. We filled the minutes as the minutes turned to hours. Every gap was filled.
Our talk was largely vanilla. I did not want to scare him off. I know he was deeply nervous but as the night progressed, he admitted that his anxiety was waning. He was enjoying himself, as we all seemed to be.
I am not going to say much more, except that I did have to keep sexy and evil thoughts at bay during certain points of the evening. t would be talking, maybe something about work, and in the privacy of my mind, I really wanted to see him in my kitchen, naked, with a gag in his mouth, doing some cooking or cleaning. Nothing major, nothing to scare him off, but certain enough to make sure he knows who runs the show.
It was a great evening. I am pleased.
I don’t know if john is all that pleased, though. Not with dinner, but with what followed dinner. I am not sure what got into me, but when we got home, he sort of pushed upon me the seventh fucking of the day, and I got a bit rough with him in return. I needed to hear his whimpering and begging to make sure he knew who really was in charge. It’s me, in case there is any doubt. I was rough on him. I beat him for a while, simply because I wanted to. I made sure he spent some moments cowering because I wanted him to cower for a bit. Not too many moments, but some.
The photo that accompanies this post is a mark I left on his body. My mouth put it there. I like how it looked.
Even in our consensual pain, there is love.