Dinner for One

Adrian got home from work at 6:45pm. The first thing he saw as he came through the door was the candle, burning brightly in its glass jar on the hall table where he usually put his keys, and straightaway he knew he was in for an evening of arousal, sex and -- if he was really lucky -- an orgasm at the end of it.

The candle had first appeared like this several years ago, on the anniversary of when Adrian and Isobel got married. Its aroma had been alluring when he'd come in through the door and saw it for the first time, even though he didn't realise what it signified at that point. When they'd married, the wedding venue had been filled with candles and the scent had enchanted them both. He hadn't realised that Isobel had spent weeks tracking down the specific brand and ordering a stock of them. He hadn't known any of that, when the candle was first waiting for him on the hall table -- he'd only known that its perfume triggered memories of joy, love, and wildly enthusiastic sex.

That first time, a note had been propped up against the glass jar, in Isobel's handwriting. "Go straight to the bathroom," it had said. "Shower, shampoo, and shave, face and groin. Put on everything that's on the bed, and nothing else. Join me in the living room when you're done. You have thirty minutes from when you opened the door." Adrian had given a surprised grunt, and then followed the instructions to the letter. What had followed had been spectacular.

Since then, the candle had appeared on random occasions, with instructions, and Isobel had deigned to accept his servitude while he did his best to please and pleasure her. Isobel always made sure she came at least once, and often more than once. Adrian delighted in seeing his lovely wife in the throes of an orgasm, knowing he'd given her such pleasure -- it made him feel like he'd earned his own climax, at the end of the night. But sometimes, he succeeded too well, and Isobel was too worn out to return the favour; on such occasions, Adrian lay beside his gently snoring wife, frustrated -- but smugly satisfied, all the same.

More recently, the note had just said, "You know what to do. Thirty minutes. Don't be late."

This time, there wasn't even a note. Adrian saw the candle, in its jar by itself, and headed straight upstairs to begin.

After shaving and cleansing himself appropriately, Adrian towelled off, rubbing his scruffy, sandy-coloured hair dry before giving it a quick comb. On the bed, placed neatly in the middle of the duvet, he found a Chippendales-style white collar-and-bow-tie affair, with matching cuffs, some cologne and a cock cage. This time, it was one of the stainless steel ones; naturally, there was no key with it. While he was snapping everything into place, he noticed the restraining straps on the mattress, just visible where they disappeared under the duvet.

As usual, the hardest part of "dressing" was the cage, and Adrian struggled to get his somewhat excited member through the metal ring and into the sleeve of the cage. Once he snapped the padlock shut, he spent his remaining few minutes trying to redistribute his compressed shaft throughout the sleeve so that the skin wasn't bunched tightly anywhere; he didn't want pinching later. Once ready, he slapped on some of the cologne, and went back down the stairs with two minutes to spare.

His wife Isobel was waiting in the living room, as promised. lounging in one of their armchairs. She was dressed in her light summer robe and cream-coloured high-heel shoes. She was reading something on her tablet. She looked up as he entered, and then checked the time.

"Cutting it close, I see," she said, archly, while she smiled at him. "But you've avoided a punishment this time. Let's have a look at you." She beckoned him closer, so that she could examine the quality of trimming around the cage. He stood in front of her, hands behind his back, for inspection. He had an excellent view of her wonderful cleavage. A small, silver key dangled from a silver chain between her breasts.

"Hmm. I suppose it'll do," she said. She kept stroking his testicles, and touching the small patches of skin reachable through the cage. Adrian shivered in pleasure. "This, however, is not nearly good enough. I want you harder than that." She playfully swatted the front of the cage, as she stood.

She tapped at her tablet, and music started playing from the audio system, a sensual R'n'B beat. Adrian watched Isobel as she began to move to the music.

Isobel was slightly taller than Adrian, especially in her high heels. She had a thin, muscular body. They were both in their thirties -- Adrian early thirties, while Isobel was a couple of years older -- and they were tall and skinny, with reasonable fitness for their age. In Adrian's case, it was because he was a climber; scampering up rock faces (real or artificial) gave him a wiry, taut physique. In Isobel's case, it was because she was a dancer. They were both amateurs, but each devoted a couple of evenings a week to their hobbies, and over the years that had shaped them.

Adrian would describe himself as "average-looking", with his boring sandy hair that never behaved, though Isobel found him attractive. "A rugged, weathered, rogue," was how she put it. Isobel had one of those long faces that, at rest, would not go beyond "pretty" -- especially with her long, wavy hair that always gave the impression it had been raining recently. But photos did not do her justice -- it was when she moved that she took Adrian's breath away. Isobel had a natural grace greatly enhanced by her long years of dance, and whenever she walked past, heads turned to follow. Her face was, weirdly, the same: her expressions brought it to life, with her twinkling eyes and her mischievous smile.

Those eyes held his, now, as her hips swayed to the music, and she approached him, intent written all over her face. Her robe, cream like her shoes, was belted at the waist and reached just past her hips. Its movement emphasised hers, captivating him. Then her hands were on him, on his shoulders first, before moving them down over his upper arms and onto his chest, feeling his abs. She closed in on him, sliding her body over his. Adrian could dance -- in truth, he wasn't all that bad -- but he always felt like a lump next to Isobel, and he struggled to match her elegance. He had no problem matching her rhythm, though -- his body couldn't resist.

She used her body to excite his, always touching him sensuously, grinding her sex or her butt into his cage, or stepping away and bending at the waist, showing him those long, long legs, with the robe just giving a hint of what lay beneath. Finally, she dropped in front of him, knees wide, grasping his testicles in one hand and the cage in the other, as she licked along his length again and again, as the track ended.

By now, Adrian was straining, his penis filling the cage as it fought for erection.

Isobel looked at it in satisfaction. "Much better," she said approvingly, as she stood. "I think I would like a drink. I'll have a martini, please." She sat back down in her chair.

HIs member bulging within its cage, Adrian went through to the kitchen to collect a glass of ice, and soon he was back in the living room, presenting Isobel with her beverage.

She sipped. "Mmm," she said. "That's nice." She placed the glass on her side table, and stood. "Turn around. Hands behind your back," she told him, as she removed the belt from her gown. Adrian obeyed, and in a moment she had his wrists lightly bound. "Okay," said, as she sat back down again and picked up her drink. "You know what to do."

Adrian did. He turned, taking in for a moment the glorious sight of Isobel sprawled back in the armchair, her gown open to reveal nothing beneath, her butt scooted forward to the edge of the seat and her legs spread wide for him. Her mound was freshly waxed, and completely smooth.

He knelt down on one knee, and then the other, and leaned into her sex, careful to keep his balance with his hands tied behind him. He worked his way up her inner thighs and around her pubic region with kisses, gently caressing with his lips, before he began to focus on her outer labia. He ran his tongue along their length, nuzzling in with his nose. He teased open the inner labia, granting him access, and pushed his tongue in. He ran it up and down her hips, before moving up to her clitoris...

***

Isobel watched Adrian go down on her, martini in hand. She ran her fingers of her other hand through his light, scruffy hair, offering positive encouragement through gentle moans when he got it right, and minor corrections when he went off piste. Truth be told, Adrian was not great at cunnilingus, but he was enthusiastic, and she could usually get over the edge -- and she did love the attention.

Generally, theirs was a marriage of equals; domination only came into it in their sex life, and then only occasionally. Adrian had confessed that he liked the idea of surrendering, and being used for her pleasure from time to time, and Isobel had expressed matching desires -- both to have him as her toy to exploit with wild abandon, and to give herself over to her husband to be used in hedonistic escapades. But only, they both agreed, just a little bit. They'd been on holiday to BDSM, as it were, and bought the t-shirt, but neither would want to live there.

So sometimes when she was feeling horny, Isobel would surprise Adrian with the candle and an evening of domination, where she made sure he brought her to orgasm at least twice, and she kept him as excited as she could throughout, before finally granting him release. In general, they'd been very enjoyable evenings for both of them, though there had been the occasional cancellation: Isobel had made plans and arrangements and taken the time to pamper herself beforehand, only to find that Adrian had had a terrible day at work, or his evening schedule was suddenly booked with work calls or he had a surprise critical presentation to an important client first thing, and he had to work all night to prepare. But these were rare. Mostly, when Isobel set out the candle, she and Adrian both experienced a highly enjoyable evening. But Isobel wasn't fooling herself -- her using her husband for her pleasure was more for his benefit than hers. It was his fantasy she was fulfilling. And she really enjoyed all the attention, of course. But she did try to make Adrian got the most out of it, by keeping him aroused as much as she could while she exploited him. She hoped she was fulfilling his dreams. She'd read a lot of femdom erotica, and knew Adrian had, too. And she'd been wondering whether her husband wanted more. Perhaps he did, but was reticent about asking.

For this evening's session, she'd spent several weeks thinking about it, planning the sequence of events, tweaking little details in her mind in order to make things go as smoothly as possible; she didn't want to kill the mood by having to search through drawers for something that was right there only just yesterday, or to have toy batteries run out just two minutes into use. She'd made sure things were to hand in the dining room and bedroom, and had Adrian's "outfit" already set aside so that she could put it on the bed as soon as she heard the shower start. She'd booked a waxing, and she'd made sure to get home early so that she could also shower, put on some subtly seductive make-up, and be ready waiting to light the candle as soon as she heard the car in the drive-way. She'd distracted herself, during the wait, by walking through the evening's plans in her mind, and imagining Adrian's responses, so she'd already had one orgasm before he came in through the front door.

And now she was building up to her second climax. Adrian's face glistened with her juices, and her breath was quickening. She took one last sip of the martini before putting it back down on the side table; it wouldn't do to spill it over the carpet while she was coming. "That's it," she told him, placing her other hand on his head, too. "Right there. Keep going like that. Mmmm, yes. Mmmm. Nearly.... Nearly... God, yes!" Isobel pulled him tight against her, squeezing his head with her thighs, pushing her stomach forward and arching her back, bridging across the armchair for a few seconds, before collapsing back onto it. Bit by bit, the climax subsided, and she eased off; she was vaguely aware of Adrian gasping for breath.

"Good boy...." she said, short of breath herself. "Good boy." After a moment, she opened her eyes again and looked at him. "Thank you, that was perfect. Stand up."

Adrian stood, a little unsteadily, getting up on one knee then the other. She reached out and handled his balls and cage, pleased to see that he was still solidly filling the cage. "Good boy," she repeated, a little breathily. "Turn around." She released his hands; Adrian immediate stretched his shoulders and neck, now that he wasn't likely to overbalance.

She nodded her head towards the other side of the room, where a side table had an ornate wooden fruit bowl they'd brought back from holiday one year. "In the fruit bowl over there you'll find several envelopes," she told him. "Pick one of them at random and bring it over to me."

Adrian obeyed her instructions, picking one of the small brown envelopes and handing it to her. She placed it on the side table next to her glass.

"You may now prepare dinner," she told him, picking up her drink again. "You'll find the recipe in the kitchen." She took a sip from the glass. "Just one place setting at the table, please. You'll be serving me, so you will be eating later."

She waited until he was gone, and then collapsed back into the armchair, letting out a long breath. It had been a good orgasm, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in his loving arms for a bit. But she had to be in control and present him with the command and charisma he longed to experience. She greatly enjoyed these occasional evenings, but Isobel had no desire to extend her control any further -- it was exhausting being the dominant one! How on earth did people do this all the time? But even so, if Adrian wanted more, she was willing to provide it, on occasion. If he let her know about it, of course. Hence her plan for this evening.

She settled down with her drink and her tablet, and continued reading the erotica she'd downloaded, keeping herself nicely in the mood while she waited for dinner.

***

Adrian had noticed the folder on the working top when he'd fixed Isobel's drink, so he was not surprised to find that it contained the recipe for tonight's dinner. This evening, Isobel had chosen a light crab and avocado salad, with chilli and lime. She'd made notes on the printed-out recipe, indicating that he would find the ingredients in the fridge, already prepared and measured out. He didn't have to do much more than mix things. This was typical for these sessions: although Isobel liked it when he took care to prepare a memorable meal for the two of them, tonight wasn't about the food, but about him assembling it and serving it on command, and then waiting on his wife. A long time in the kitchen would give his penis time to relax, and Isobel would want him still excited when he returned. Plus, he knew that his wife wouldn't want a heavy meal weighing her down when she still had lots of sex planned.

At least, he hoped she still had lots of sex planned.

It wasn't long before Adrian stepped back into the living room to inform his Mistress for the evening that dinner was served. Isobel got to her feet in a leisurely way, and gracefully drifted through into the dining room, carrying her tablet in one hand and the envelope he'd picked out in the other, the empty martini glass left behind.

In the dining room, he'd laid out one place setting at the head of the table, as instructed. There was a single knife and fork, a single wine glass, and a single cloth napkin, elegantly folded; when Isobel had first had him act as her waiter, she'd told him to "make the dining room look nice." The next day, he'd spent several hours following a YouTube video on napkin-folding again and again, so that he was better able to carry out that instruction in future, and he'd long since mastered the technique.

Speaking of making the room look nice, there was a single tall candle burning in the middle of the table, there were LED fairy lights strategically placed around the room in glass jars, and he'd turned the overhead light down to the lowest setting on the dimmer.

He saw her take the room in, in a single sweeping glance, and then give a single nod of approval.

Adrian pulled out her chair for her, and helped her sit, before unfurling the napkin with a snap of his wrist and draping it over her lap.

'Thank you," she told him. "I'd like a glass of white, please. There's a bottle chilling in the fridge."

As instructed, Adrian fetched the bottle and poured a small quantity into the glass; Isobel quickly indicated with her hand that that was plenty.

Returning the bottle to the fridge, Adrian bought out her crab salad, placing the plate in front of her. His own plate was in the fridge for now.

"Thank you," she said. "I want you to wait on me. Stand there." She pointed at the floor just to the side of her.

Isobel set up her tablet in front of her so that she could continue reading and took a sip of wine. She lifted her fork with one hand and began nibbling at the salad, while with the other hand, she reached out and took hold of his testicles, massaging them.

Adrian groaned as she squeezed his balls lightly, but she kept her attention on her food, and on whatever she was reading. She played with him for a while with one hand, not even looking in his direction, keeping him straining within the cage.

Eventually, she turned to him. "More wine please," she said, releasing his balls.

Penis as stiff as it could be in its cage, Adrian went back to the kitchen, retrieved the bottle, put another splash of white in the glass, and put the bottle back. Isobel wanted smaller glasses, he knew, so that she could ask for refills more often.

Once he was back in position, waiting on her, she told him to turn around so that he was facing away. Now she reached between his legs and fondled him some more, before pausing. Nothing happened for a while, and then he felt a jolt as something started buzzing, right on his perineum. She'd had a small wand or bullet vibrator in her gown pocket! He could hear her still munching through the salad while she moved the device around his balls, and against the underside of his constrained member. He shuddered, eyes closed.

Throughout the meal, Isobel kept Adrian quivering with excitement, and pre-come leaked from the tip of the cage onto the carpet; he'd need to clear that up, later. She kept him near to orgasm, but it wasn't enough to tip him over the edge.

Then he heard a clink, as she placed the fork on the empty plate, and he heard her lift the glass and place it back down on the table after draining it.

Standing, she took hold of his cage, and set off in the direction of their bedroom, dragging him by his -- or her -- cock.

***

Isobel had to let Adrian go as she made her way up the stairs ahead of him, but she knew he'd be looking up her short gown and seeing her nakedness beneath, so that was just as good.

In the bedroom, she instructed him to lie on his back, spreadeagled as usual. The restraints were already in place beneath the covers, so it was a moment's work to get him tied down, arms and legs spread.

It was often the case that, after some teasing to keep him excited for a while, she would sit on his face for a bit before finally taking off the cage so that he could have his own orgasm. Two or more for her, just one for him, in keeping with his desire to be used for her pleasure for the evening.