Consent Ch. 01-02

Jack raised his eyes to her and they locked with hers, she a Goddess that could deliver all things, he a helpless sheep. He had no controllable response.

She continued to watch him, gently, not with a malicious intent, just with understanding. She knew things. He met her eyes and they held each other in perception of a moment shared. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. There was water there.

"That's ok," she said softly. "So, if I forced you to cross dress, you'd be happy with that, wouldn't you? Because in your mind, to avoid the shame, you'd have no choice but to obey me."

"I don't know. I'm confused. Are you a psychologist or a dominatrix? Jesus!"

Johanna smiled broadly and said, "I'm the best damn psychologist you will ever find."

She finished her drink and played with the olive on the rim of the glass. She resumed in a sweet voice, "Have you ever wished you were a woman?"

"Yes, well no, not completely."

"Ever dream of a sex change?"

"I've thought about it for sure, I guess. But I don't want to lose my uh, equipment. It always comes back to that. In my wildest fantasies I'd want to look exactly like a woman, with breasts and everything, but still have a penis. Or maybe magically convert to a woman and then back again whenever I wanted to."

Johanna smiled again and said, "So if you did have a sex change, you'd be a lesbian, wouldn't you?"

Jack seemed astonished and muddled. He was sweating. "Yes, I suppose so."

Bingo again. She had all she needed.

"Okay, that's enough about you. Now I'm going to share my fantasies with you, okay? And you're going to be pleasantly surprised I think. You see, in MY wildest fantasies I want a woman with a penis. I like men in women's clothes, high heeled shoes, totally unable to resist my whims. Dominating a man is a turn on for me. Nothing screams so much of domination as emasculating a man, isn't that so?"

"What! What? Jesus! Yes, I suppose so. Where are you going with this?"

She ate her olive. Her dimples showed suddenly as she said, "Let me see now, have I got this right? I like to humiliate and emasculate a man; you like to be humiliated and emasculated. Round pegs, round holes, I would say, wouldn't you?"

Jack squinted at her, mesmerized and bewildered. This had escalated way too fast. How did she read him so fast, so completely and unmercifully? He might as well have been sitting there in a skirt and blouse with his hands cuffed behind his back. She had revealed his shameful secrets in just the 35 minutes they had been chatting. A whole lifetime of cloaking removed in minutes.

Suddenly he had doubts. The edge of the cliff was right here, right now. He was standing on one foot, the other over the void. Fear and panic welled up.

"I, I'm not sure I should be here. Look...you...this, I mean," he stammered, "I'm feeling kind of weird. Maybe we should call this off." He did feel faint and she had totally disarmed him. He was puzzled by his trust in her and the power he knew she could wield over him. It frightened him and gave him comfort at the very same time, pushing and pulling, leaving him off balance.

"Well you should feel weird. You're a man who wants to be dominated by a woman, humiliated, and forced to wear women's clothes. You want to be a woman with a penis. That's pretty weird, but I understand it. And how many people do you know who could say that? After all, you are a pervert, right? And perverts abduct children, don't they?" She was being facetious of course, but nonetheless his head went under water and she briefly held it there.

Then she let him up by saying, "But I'm a pervert too. And I hurt no-one, at least no-one that doesn't want to be hurt."

"I think I should go." Jack's instincts were screaming at him to stop this word game and go home.

But he didn't.

"You'll go when I say you can go," she said calmly and with a distinct lilt to her voice. The message didn't seem to match the tone. She reached across the table and took his hand again. Her fingernails gripped him like talons.

"Oh you're strong enough physically, but I can trump that every time, don't you think?" The question was asked forcefully as she bent his pinky backward surprisingly hard, catching him unprepared. The pain intensified as she asked again, "Don't you?"

"Oww, no, stop, oww!" he answered in a whispered shriek, "Okay, yes, all right? Jeez!"

She released him, at least physically, but she had him in so many ways. She smiled warmly as she patted his hand. "It's okay sweetie. It's okay to be submissive to me. You're a good person. I can tell. Most weak and submissive men are. Such sweet, sensitive souls, so feminine. I can love them."

She tilted her head sideways and squinted her eyes as if something had just occurred to her, "You pout so sweetly, and your chin is narrow... such high cheek bones. My God, you could really be..." She stopped talking, her voice trailing off, but continued to stare. She was imagining, fantasizing, and for a brief moment, saw him as her fantasy. It would be a simple process, she thought.

Jack's face was burning with arousal. She was pressing every button, and some he didn't know he had. His breathing was shallow as he reached down to put his hand under the table to discreetly rearrange his enlarged penis.

"Don't be a pervert," she said immediately, "That would be disgusting if you touched yourself. Do not do it. Stop."

He blanched and said, "What? I wasn't, that wasn't what... What are you talking about?" The stammering was giving him away and he knew it.

He stared at her. She glared back at him, smug in her control of the moment. He averted her eyes.

"How long have you been hiding?" she asked gently.

"Hiding? What do you mean?"

"Yes, hiding. Have you ever confided your deepest fantasies with anyone? And when I say deepest, I mean the cross dressing, because that's really creepy, especially the masturbation part." Under water again.

Jack glanced around the room, checking for turned heads for the hundredth time. There were none. The world didn't know or care that he was a pervert. The world didn't know or care that he was so erotically confused and aroused right now that he could barely breathe.

"All my life. I've been hiding all my life," he sighed, and as he said it, a warmth was born somewhere within him. He looked at her and, for the first time, was able to really hold her gaze, although his was becoming glassy with tears.

"I'm sorry Mistress Johanna. I shouldn't be here. This was silly." He shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut again and said, "I have to go." Tears glistened at the corners of his eyes, ready to burst and flow down his cheeks.

"Why are you sorry? Why shouldn't you be here? Go where? You've got no one to share your deepest and darkest fantasies with. Except me. I find that interesting. Don't you?" Now she leaned across the table and whispered, "Look at me."

He did.

She continued, "I've seen it all sweetie, and no one can tell me that sexual fantasies should necessarily define what a person is, but they can for one of two reasons. One is if you want them to, the other is if you let them. Do you? Should you? Which is it for you? It needn't be either. I could know you as no one knows you, see you for who you are, frame it with your fantasies. The fantasies are the frills, the stuff around you; they are not what or who you are. I have intimate knowledge of many good people. Some like to wear baby clothes and suck on soothers. Some want to be pissed on, or worse. They have good jobs, they are religious, they give to charities, and they serve the greater community."

She paused and then added with a gentleness that broke his heart, "Jack, you're in trouble. I see it. You have to do something. Believe me, I know. I've seen people like you. I know them. You need me."

Johanna let that sink in. Jack had one leg out of the booth and was chewing on his left pinkie fingernail, his arm contorted to get at a particularly stubborn piece of nail. He could have left. But he didn't. And he listened.

Again, that pregnant pause in the conversation where each was sizing the other up. She broke the silence.

"Did you ever put anything up your ass?" The apparent left field assault was intended to push him further off balance, and it did.

This shocked him away from his fingernail. "What? No! I told you I'm not gay, for Christ's sake! Why don't you stop that shit?" That made him very edgy, even angry.

Touchy subjects, cross dressing and fear of being gay. Duly noted and logged.

They sat in silence again for quite some time. Johanna put her smile away and watched him intently while he glanced furtively at her face, her cleavage, retreating to the table top and back to her cleavage again. The fragrance of her made him shake.

"Last question, have you been in a lot of fights, you know, physical fights?"

Jack tilted his head and squinted his eyes in puzzlement, responding, "Weird question. I'm not big, never have been. Lost one fight in the fifth grade. Broke my nose. I learned to avoid them. I'd say that aggression causes fear and anxiety more than anger in me now. I just don't like confrontation. I like things to just flow or go away."

Johanna smiled. This was important. There could be times when restraints were not in place when a man might get angry and rebel, and a man, even when petite, could still overpower most women. But he would not have the resolve or confidence to do it.

"I see," she said, "Discretion is the better part of valor, right?"

"Yeah, all the time in my opinion."

Another awkward silence resumed.

Finally Johanna put forward her end gambit, the push against the pull, "Look I'm really sorry Jack, but I'm beginning to sincerely doubt that you're here for the right reasons. Even though I like what I could do to you (and for you, for that matter), you might have too much "baggage", and by that I mean "feminine" baggage. It gets cumbersome. I'm sorry, but this interview is over. You can leave now. I'll pay your tab."

She sat back pretending to search through her purse, and prepared to watch the show. If he was right for this (and she knew he was), he would squirm. A real man would be a man and tell her to fuck off and leave. She would enjoy either result.

Jack was stunned at the abrupt reversal and dismissal. For some reason he was attracted to her like a moth to a flame. He looked at her now, a dark flame breathing passion and ecstasy, ready to consume him. If he went forward he was consumed by the heat. If he stepped away, he was consumed by darkness and cold.

He tried not to plead, but it came out that way, "How can you dismiss me like that? After all that I've told you? My God, oh my God!" He was devastated. Then he controlled himself and said, "Wait. I mean, look, I'm, I'm just kind of lost okay? Can we try this? I need to try this." He had never stammered before tonight and he hung his head in despair, as he had never revealed himself like this before. Recovering slightly, he salvaged some courage and dignity, "I'm done with the ordinary, okay? I want out. I just want out. Or in, I'm not sure which. What the fuck am I doing here anyway? What the fuck am I talking about?"

He shook his head and then chugged the rest of the odious White Zinfandel, banged the glass down, and slouched back in the chair. With a heavy sigh and a distant humiliated look, he said, "I'm sorry I wasted your time then. Thanks for the wine. You're very beautiful by the way; I meant that before and I mean it now. Good luck in your search."

He swung his other leg out of the booth to leave.

Johanna observed all this with well concealed shock and pleasure. She leaned conspiratorially across the table again and ordered him to stay seated.

"Sit down. You should be very careful what you wish for, you know. Tell you what, I'll think about taking you. If I do take you, and you give your permission to be taken, you're going to be very surprised at what awaits you. It will be nothing like what you perceive it to be, nothing at all. And very addicting. You're like an alcoholic on the wagon. I am your alcohol. One drink of me and that'll be it. I have my ways. It's important you know that. Do not deceive yourself. I will use you and abuse you. I will control your every move. And you will be MY fantasy. If I am yours, that will be good as well, but it isn't necessary. I hope you're clear on that."

Then she smiled. Pre-empting his departure, she now got up quickly and leaned down, kissing him lightly and tenderly on the cheek.

"You're the man. You pay the bill. I'll contact you. I have your email address." She turned to leave but abruptly turned around and asked him what his phone number was.

He answered as if in a trance. "xxx-xxx-xxxx"

She closed her eyes briefly to memorize the number. Then she left.

A pungent smell of leather, perfume and gin swirled around him like smoky confusion as he sat there, bewildered. He watched her leave, the long self-assured stride of a confident woman, an oversized purse slung over her left shoulder. Her stiletto heels were silent on the carpet until they met the slate tiles at the entrance, and she swayed provocatively in a tight black skirt fused to her hips and thighs like a girdle.

His breathing slowly came back to normal. The rush in his ears from his arousal slowly subsided and the hushed subtleties of the velvet room resumed their stately dance. He waved his VISA card at the server, who came over immediately to settle up.

Jack sat for a further few moments to compose himself fully, and also to put his hand in his pocket to discreetly readjust his equipment. The wet spot at his crotch was low enough that he estimated no one could see it. The wet spots under his arms were more prominent. With wobbly legs he stood up and left, glancing at the server as he walked toward the door. There was a conspiratorial, knowing grin from him, but Jack scowled with a subliminal "fuck off", re-establishing his manhood as best he could, and he walked back to the parkade, feeling like his mind had been exposed and everything examined by an alien presence.

This was a powerful woman. He wanted her; he needed her; he feared her, and he knew he had to stay away. This drug was too strong.