Date with a Goddess

Tom was bored, and horny. He was good looking, a single man in his mid-20's living in the middle of the city. Despite his looks, decent job and agreeable personality, he had never found himself in a stable relationship. His 20's were a chain of hookups and one-night stands with women he met at clubs or via dating apps on his phone. Despite having the ability to whet his sexual appetite if he chose to, he found himself attracted to kinkier and more extreme forms of entertainment. Normal porn and sex were boring; he believed he'd experienced all the vanilla world had to offer. He knew something was truly wrong when he hooked up with a cute girl in a bar, and couldn't get hard. She was willing, beautiful, but his boner was half-hearted. After a bout of unsatisfactory rutting, he asked her to leave and collapsed on his bed, ashamed with his own performance.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Pent-up and unfulfilled, he sat himself down at his computer and logged into a fetish dating website. He had been browsing profiles over the last few weeks, and had gravitated towards those of dominant women. Why was he attracted to them? He wasn't sure, just somehow the idea of a woman taking charge and using him for her pleasure turned him on. Every time he had slept with a woman, he had taken the initiative. He believed it was expected of him: he was a man, and as such, should take the lead. That how it was supposed to be, right? He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, his boner uncomfortable in his briefs. Why then did these women who represented the complete opposite of his experiences turn him on so? It was time to dip his feet into the unknown.

Every night after work, he would browse the profiles of dominant women in his city, occasionally sending out a tentative message. No replies: perhaps the women he sought could see through his platitudes, see him as the horny young opportunist that he was, or perhaps they received so many messages like his that he was never noticed. He grew despondent, with each failure his desire grew. He still didn't know what he wanted exactly, but images of bound men being abused and tormented by dominant beauties filled his thoughts. He craved a tight collar around his neck, a leash pulling him cruelly, sharp nails on his balls as he struggled, helpless and desperate.

Why do I want this? Is something wrong with me?

One night, something was different. As he logged into the kinky dating site, he noticed that the mailbox icon was lit up. His breath caught in his throat and his stomach knotted up. Someone had replied. What now? He opened the message, his eyes wide:

"You are offering to serve me? There are many boys on this website who say the same, though your message at least had perfect grammar and no spelling mistakes. If you are genuine in your desire to be collared by me, then prove it.

1) From this moment onwards, do not touch your cock.

2) From this moment onwards, refer to me as 'Goddess'.

3) Send me photo of yourself, naked and kneeling, right now. "

Tom glanced at the timestamp on the message: 12 minutes ago. Shit shit shit! He ripped off his clothes and knelt, his cock rock-hard despite zero stimulation. He was in good-shape, fit and lean due to a healthy diet and regular gym trips, but was far from muscular. He hoped that she would like what she saw. He held his camera away from himself and took a picture, not thinking to crop out his face. He wrote a quick reply:

"Thank you Goddess, I will do as you say. Here is a photo of me, I am sorry to make you wait."

He then attached his photo to the message, and hit send, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. He hadn't touched his cock since reading the message, but it was harder than it had ever been in his life. The urge to touch himself was so great that he almost masturbated then and there, but somehow he was able to stop himself. There's was no way the mysterious message-sender would know if he did, but... he wanted to impress her, as pathetic as that sounded. For now, all he could do was wait for her reply. Impatiently, he opened up her profile. Female, 35, single, Dominant, looking for a slave. She had not listed any kinks or preferences, her profile picture was of a high-heeled leather boot, a collar and a leash. Other than a brief introduction, she had very little information about her, leaving Tom hungry to find out more. Time passed, but his inbox remained empty. He didn't dare leave his computer on the off-chance that she might reply to him with further instructions. He began to feel doubts: maybe she was a scammer, or a fake? He had just sent a naked photo of himself, face and all, to a total stranger. Would she blackmail him? Would she-...

The mailbox icon lit up:

"You keep yourself fit and healthy. That is good. You will be waiting in the square on the corner of James St and King St, by the statue of a horse, at 7pm this Friday. Dress casual, and shave.

Again, in case I need to reiterate:

1) Do not touch yourself.

2) You will address me as Goddess, both online and in-person.

If you are not planning on wasting my time this Friday, a simple 'yes Goddess' will suffice. Remember to shave."

Oh my god. This was happening! Tom couldn't believe it. It could still just be an online troll, pulling his strings for laughs, but... arranging a meeting? This could really be happening! He hurriedly typed 'yes, Goddess,' and sent his reply. Tom could feel a wet spot in his briefs, pre-cum was leaking out of his iron-hard cock. He knew all it would take was a few rubs and he would cum, such was his arousal. But, it was Wednesday night, Friday was so close... he needed to hold on for her. Tom dreaded her somehow knowing if he had disobeyed her instructions. Turning off his PC, Tom had a cold shower, and hopped into bed. Sleep eluded him for a time, as he fantasized about his faceless Goddess, but eventually he drifted off into oblivion.

Thursday was a nightmare. Tom could barely concentrate on his work, he kept checking his inbox to see if his Goddess had sent him further instructions. His eyes were glued to the clock all day. Finally, at 6pm, he rushed home. His inbox was still empty, he felt himself harden just reading her previous message. It was time to follow her instructions and get ready for tomorrow night.

'Remember to shave'.

She had been very specific about that, it was true that in the photo Tom had sent her he was sporting a few centimetres of stubble, so... Oh. There was the chance that she had not been referring to the hair on his face. Tom rarely shaved his cock and balls, as he disliked the itchiness as the hair re-grew, but if there was even the slightest chance that his Goddess wanted him fully bare, then he would do it. He headed to the bathroom, lathered his nether regions in shaving foam, and got to work.

About twenty minutes later, he was done. He had shaved his ass, balls, the shaft of his cock and his lower stomach. It felt cool and refreshing to be hairless down there, and Tom folded his smooth balls and gave his still-hard cock a few smooth tugs, enjoying the sensation. Then he froze.

I just touched myself!

She would never know, he didn't make himself come, surely it would be ok... Damnit! He so desperately wanted to come. Annoyed at his own lack of self-control, Tom slipped into bed, doing his best not to dream of leather boots, leashes and collars before he drifted off to sleep.

Friday. Tom drifted through his workday as if in a dream. Whenever he shifted back to reality, he would feel a hard knot pressing in his stomach, desire, impatience, nervousness. He had no idea what to expect, he knew almost nothing about his Goddess. Would it go well? Would she want him? Would he be attracted to her? He grew tenser and tenser, unable to relax. At 6pm, Tom left work and lurked at a cafe not far from the meeting point. Part of him wanted to run away and be a no-show, he was so nervous. But he steeled himself: nothing or no-one else had made him feel so intense in all his entire life. He needed to see this through. With 20 minutes remaining until the meeting, Tom left the cafe and walked to the statue of a horse. He leaned against the stone plinth and waited, his heartbeat heavy and butterflies in his stomach. He felt like a little boy again. Why did he feel so afraid? Tom had dated and slept with many women, why the hell was he so nervous now?

"Are you waiting for someone?" A female voice, sultry with a hint of laughter. He turned, and saw his Goddess for the first time. She was slightly shorter than him, with shoulder-length brown hair framing a cute and dark-eyed face. She wore a loose summer top and well-fitted jeans, and on her feet, the same knee-high boots as her profile picture. She had no jewelry and little makeup other than light lipstick and pink nail polish.

"Yes, uh... Yes, Goddess," Tom stammered. He had worried about what he was going to do if he wasn't attracted to her when they first met, but there was no danger of that now. She was stunning.

"You didn't stand me up. That's a good start." She stated matter-of-factly, staring into his eyes. Tom couldn't look away, he didn't even notice he was holding his breath until he started to feel light headed. Her dark eyes were hypnotic, he felt himself being pulled into her, like a bubble circling a plughole. "Come on then. I'm hungry." His Goddess, tapped her boot against the pavement, breaking Tom's trance. She set off at a brisk trot, leading him down King Street. As she walked, she pulled out her phone and made a call: Tom heard her talking business with someone on the other end. His Goddess gave instructions to someone evidently her subordinate, and hung up as they reached the entrance to a dimly-lit restaurant. She entered, Tom at her heels. A reservation, had been made, the two of them were led to a secluded corner of the restaurant floor. Tom pulled out his Goddess's chair for her, and she sat, her hair brushing against his hand as she did so.

"Thank you." A small smile sent shivers down his spine. He began to sit opposite her, but stopped himself.

"I'm sorry Goddess. May I sit?"

She seemed amused by his display of subservience. "Yes, you may." Tom hurriedly did so. His Goddess looked him up and down, once again staring into his eyes once she had finished her inspection. She beckoned to the waiter, and ordered a glass of red wine. As he walked away to another table, the Goddess turned her sultry eyes back towards Tom.

"I am a busy woman. I don't have time for a husband, or a boyfriend. Men tend to be too needy for my tastes." She laid her hands on the table, pink nails shining in the candlelight. "What I want is a slave. Someone I control, someone I can call and use at my convenience. And when I say own, I mean it literally. I want a possession, not a partner. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Goddess." Tom's words almost caught in his throat at the abrupt question.

"So, to that end, I don't want to know your name. If all goes well tonight, and I end up collaring you, your name will simply be: 'slave'. I will be 'Goddess'. Don't ask me any questions about my personal life, and obviously I have no interest in yours. Again, do you understand?"

"Yes, Goddess." Tom felt emasculated, she was asking him to be an object, a plaything... he remembered the collar and the leash from her profile picture. Oh god, why did he want that so badly?

"Alright." She raised one eyebrow and smiled, her lips soft and enticing. "Now then, tell me why I should choose you to serve me? I have plenty of subs and slaves in my inbox, offering themselves to me. What makes you worth keeping?"

Tom panicked inwardly at the question. What -did- make him special? He inhaled deeply, and tried to explain.

"Goddess, I am... I don't know. I used to want what I thought was 'normal'. But I... feel like I'm changing. I don't really know why, and I feel ashamed and humiliated even saying it, but... I want to be owned. Something about submission pulls at my soul unlike anything else I have experienced in my life. Now that I see you here before me, I can feel your power, and I want to... no, I need to be owned by you. Please, Goddess, I want to be yours."

Tom was earnest and heartfelt, but his Goddess closed her eyes and shook her head, evidently disappointed.

"I asked you what made you worth keeping. Not what you need, not what you want to try." Her dark eyes reopened, capturing his once again. "I'm not here so that you can live out your kink fantasies." There was displeasure in her voice, and Tom felt his ego deflate. The wine arrived, and the Goddess took a sip.

"I'm sorry Goddess." Tom lowered his eyes. "I don't know if I am worth keeping. All I can say is that I am desperate to please you, and I am totally obedient. I will do anything you ask, I will undergo any training you desire in order to better please you. Please, give me a chance to prove my submissiveness to you. I will do anything, Goddess."

She did not reply, merely staring into his eyes while carefully considering his words. She took a sip of her wine, savoring the flavor while thinking. Finally, she reached into her bag, and pulled out a black cardboard box, one that might contain a watch or piece of jewelry.

"We will see. I am about to collar you, but I will need a few things first. Give me your phone." She commanded, holding out a slender hand. Tom's head was spinning. So quickly? He was about to become this gorgeous woman's slave after only one meeting? He handed her his mobile, and she typed her number into his contacts under 'Goddess'. Then, she returned Tom's phone to him, along with the black cardboard box.

"Take this, and go to bathroom. Put it on, and take a photo of yourself once you're done. Send the photo to me, and you will be mine from that moment onward. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Goddess. Thank you," Tom took the phone and box from her gratefully. "I'll be back soon." He stood up and hurried away to the men's bathroom. Inside, he sat himself in an empty cubicle, locking the door behind him. His fingers trembled as he slowly pulled the lid off the box. Inside was his Goddess's collar, he was about to be owned! The lid came off without difficulty. The glint of metal surprised Tom, a padlock with no key. Beneath it, a strange plastic and metal contraption.

What the hell is this?

He vaguely remembered seeing something like this before in a porn video: a chastity device. Once locked onto his cock, he would be unable to become erect or touch himself. Tom felt a bitter taste in his mouth: pride. He did not want to wear this thing. But... in his mind, the Goddess's eyes, her soft lips, her pink nails on the tabletop all beckoned to him... he wanted to be hers so badly, now that he had seen her it was impossible to resist. He knew now why she had insisted that he shave himself. He maneuvered the plastic ring around the base of his cock and balls, then secured the plastic sheath of the chastity device over the head and shaft. All that remained was to lock it shut. Tom's hands were sweaty as he held the unlocked padlock and debated taking the chastity device off, walking away. Steeling himself, he threaded the lock onto the device, and snapped it shut. He gritted his teeth, already feeling the sting of humiliation. Yet, somehow he was also aroused, the hard plastic around his cock reminded him of his Goddess's sharp pink fingernails. Tom took out his camera, and knelt on the cubicle floor, taking a picture, his face flushed and red with embarrassment. He hesitated for a moment, then sent it to his Goddess along with a short message:

"I did what you asked, Goddess. Thank you for allowing me to serve you."

His face reddened further as he saw that the message had been 'read'. Her reply was near instant:

"You are now my slave. That 'collar' is to serve as a constant and uncomfortable reminder as to who owns you. Here are your first instructions:

1) You will sign a contract further solidifying your new position. This will be done when we next meet.

2) Before said meeting you will need to go shopping. I will send you the list a few days in advance.

3) I will send you links to videos and stories throughout the coming week. You will watch and read them all, from start to finish.

4) You will not try to contact me unless it is an emergency. The only message I want to see from you is 'yes, Goddess'.

Our next meeting will be this coming Wednesday. You will be waiting outside Baker Street Station, at 8pm sharp. Do not be late, slave."

Tom frowned. Why was she sending him this, and not saying it directly to his face? He pulled his pants back on, and hurried back onto the floor of the restaurant, but his Goddess was nowhere to be seen. The only sign of her presence was the unpaid bill on the table, and a paper napkin with the red imprint of her lips on it. Tom raised the napkin to his own lips, nearly kissing it before barely stopping himself. She was intoxicating. His cock tried to stiffen in his pants, but the cage denied him. He was now locked up, ensnared by a beautiful and dominant woman.

Holy shit.

Reality began to sink in. His swollen cock ached in his pants, his heart was thumping, his cheeks were flushed. He felt alive, excited and desperately horny. He wanted her so badly, his whole body felt like it was electrically charged. But all he could do was read her message one last time, his eyes drinking in her words. Then, he replied:

"Yes, Goddess".

To be continued.