30 Days: Dinner

I know it sounds crazy, but I was in love with Karen from the first time I looked in her eyes. The following month did nothing except intensify that feeling.

We dated in a very traditional sense, doing the typical things that couples do. Dinners, movies, seeing friends, hanging out. The only difference is that for that month, Karen made all the decisions.

Even when I had an idea or something I wanted to do, she would still be control. I'd tell her I wanted to see a movie that just came out and she would say "I'll consider it."

By the end of the month, if we went for dinner, she would order my meal. If we were going out, she would decide where and when. She had a copy of my work schedule online and would adjust accordingly. A few times, she would tell me to cancel meetings or leave work early. I always did.

There was no discussion or negotiation about it.

Our sex life was a bit unconventional as well. Karen had no interest in sex involving penetration, so all of our activities were limited to me providing her oral, with some very direct and explicit instructions and her occasionally rewarding me with long, slow, and unfinished handjobs. She had a passion for edging me and told me that she loved seeing me worked up, desperate and squirming for her.

Begging made no difference. She did as she liked. She also really liked putting me in bondage and as our relationship grew, so did that aspect.

By the end of the month, I think it is fair to say I was in love. I had even worked up the nerve to say it to her, which made her smile and would always earn a confident response, ranging from "I know" to "Of course you are." But she would never say it back.

At the end of the month, she ordered me to meet her for dinner. It was the same restaurant where we had met for the munch. I arrived a few minutes early and she was already waiting for me.

I greeted her, kissed her cheek as had become our ritual, and sat down.

The waiter came and she ordered for both of us.

I looked into her eyes, more in love than I ever had been.

"So," she started, "the month is up and I think we can both agree it has gone extremely well. I think we are very well matched and you have shown yourself to be a very good partner."

I nodded and agreed.

"I am interested in taking this to the next level, if you are."

Again I nodded. "What would that entail?" I asked her, squirming a little in my chair.

"Well, that is a good question. What it will entail, as you say, is ownership. I am not looking for a boyfriend or a partner or a best friend. I want a slave and I think you may be worth owning."

I could feel my heart race.

"Isn't that kind of what we have been doing?" I asked, not quite sure what the difference might be. I was already doing whatever she asked.

She smiled a bit and bit her lip. "Oh David, you really have no idea, do you?"

I sat just looking into her eyes.

"Here is what I am proposing. A 30 day training period, starting in two weeks. Once you agree and sign the contract, you will be under my complete control. I will do with you as I please, when I please, how I please. You will have no say."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder and slid it across the table. "Read this, because it is what you will be agreeing to."

I opened the folder and read the contract. It was not particularly detailed, but basically boiled down to four things. First, I was to obey every command and instruction without delay or hesitation or I would be punished. Second, I would give up every aspect of my life to her, including work, friends, and family. Third, she could terminate the agreement at any time, without explanation. Fourth, I could terminate the agreement at any time, but the consequence would be that I would never be allowed to see or contact her again.

I read it over several times. "Can you give me an idea of some of the kinds of things I can expect? How would it be different than what we are doing now?"

She shook her head. "No," she said definitively.

"I am giving you two weeks to think about it. Give me your list."

I handed her the list she had asked me to draw up. It was a collection of books, websites, videos, and stories that I felt described my deepest, darkest, and in many ways, most embarrassing fetishes and fantasies. I also wrote for her a series of five essays about my kinks and desires, where she asked me to share things that were particularly shameful for me and that I had never told anyone before. She wanted to have those parts of me open and exposed to her to use and exploit as we moved forward together.

She smiled. "I ordered a bottle of wine," she told me, "since we aren't going to see each other for a couple of weeks, I thought it would be nice to share a meal and have a few glasses of wine together."

I felt my stomach tighten. "What do you mean?"

"Before we get started, i want you to really think about this. I am going to take some time looking through all these wonderful things you have shared with me and you are going to spend a couple of weeks feeling what life would be like without me."

She smiled. Her smile always made me melt.

"So if you decide to sign this, you will show up at my place, Monday morning at 8 a.m. with the signed contract and your life will change forever."

"If you don't, that is it. I have to confess, I will be incredibly disappointed if you don't, but I also know that I can't keep going the way we are. It isn't enough for me. I am already feeling the need to take things so much further with you, so this is really the only option for me."

She smiled at the waiter as he began pouring the wine.

She tasted it and approved.

"Well enough of that," she said raising her glass, "to a new adventure," she toasted. I raised my glass and pressed it to hers making them clink.

"So tell me about your day," she continued, slipping back into the easy and comfortable connection we had been developing of the past few weeks.

Conversation flowed easily and naturally, as it always seemed to. I couldn't stop looking at her. The perfect girl next door, amazingly beautiful, and able to take control effortlessly in any situation.

Even the smell of her perfume, barely noticeable, but still there, made me feel intoxicated.

Like every time I saw her, I didn't want it to end. Yet eventually, the bottle was empty, the food was gone, and the restaurant was starting to close.

We got up, gathered our coats and bags and I walked her to her car.

"Just so we are clear, David. Two weeks. No visits, no phone calls, no texts. I don't want to see or hear from you for two weeks. And then I expect you to be there Monday at 8, not 8:01, not 8:10, exactly at 8. I will open the door once. If you aren't there, I will never open it again for you. Understand?"

I nodded and swallowed. "I do."

She turned her head, her gesture to invite my kiss on her cheek.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her cheek, inhaling softly, taking in the smell of her hair and perfume.

She turned away, got into her car and left the lot, never even looking back.

I stood and watched as she drove away, watching her tail lights disappear, already feeling the absence.

I didn't sleep at all that night. I spend the evening reading and re-reading the contract, as I did every night. Partly I was looking for an excuse to call or text, something I needed clarified or explained. Any excuse to talk to her.

Going to sleep every night without her, without talking to her, grew more and more painful. I would try to imagine her with me, wondering what she was wearing, what she was doing. I thought about driving by her place, hoping for just a glance of her.

Friends would ask about her and I was too embarrassed to tell them I wasn't allowed to see or talk to her, so every query was like a humiliating gut punch.

I thought, perhaps, I would get used to it and adjust. But it only got worse.

I didn't need the two weeks to think about it. I signed the contract the moment I got home after dinner and never questioned for a moment if I wanted this or not. I did. With every fiber of my being.

I would imagine and fantasize what it would be like. I had given her the keys to my soul. Things I had never shared with anyone. Embarrassing stories, fetishes, desires. Everything she wanted, I provided. When I thought about her reading it, I would flush and panic. It felt dangerous.

The weeks passed. Every day seemed to drag on, longer and longer. Finally my purgatory came to an end.

I didn't sleep Sunday night. I called in sick to work, freeing the entire day. I put on my best suit and with contract in hand, I arrived in front of her place at 7:30. I sat in my car, anxious, nervous and waiting, watching the numbers on the clock change, each minute seeming to pass more slowly than the last.

Finally, it was time. I left the car and presented myself at her door. 7:58, 7:59 . . .