The Sadist Came to Lunch

He is waiting at the simple restaurant we favor on these playdates. I was so hungry, having been unable to choke breakfast through the lump of anticipation in my throat.  I was hot, horny, wanton.

That first glimpse of Him as I enter the warmth of the room catches me–not breathless, exactly–I’m not a teenager chomping at the bit to see my boyfriend. It’s darker, and so much deeper than that. Not just my cunt is involved here. It’s my mind, my body, my spirit…and all react to seeing Him sitting there. He’s chosen a chair next to the fireplace, a soothing balm –it is incredibly frigid outside. I look at Him, smiling to myself. He’s reading the paper, immersed in it, as deeply as I am immersed in taking in this relaxed view of my Man. The nerves I’ve carried all week begin to fall away, every step making me feel lighter, freer, happier. Just seeing Him sitting there, knowing He was there for me. 

There’s incredible power in that, for both of us, I think.

I come closer and He sees me, smiles that little wisp of a smile that makes my stomach just clench in delight. It is the smile of the Master, the control of the Sadist. He is happy to see me, and for this one flash of a moment, allows me to see that pleasure.

He teases me about something, I forget now. I kiss Him lightly on His mouth, and as I lean down, I feel His fingers pinching my tit. I’m hot, and it’s not from the cheery fire burning a few feet away, but from the flames He instantly kindles in me.

We chit-chat for a bit, then pick a table. Will I have the bagel I always do? I decide, after some debate between us, to have a light lunch. Too much food and I’ll pay for it during play time. Too little and I might faint. I chose soup and asandwich, and ate while we talked. Well, He talked, I mostly listened.

I have no ide


a, no memory of what we spoke of. Mostly the mundane, I think. I was watching those leonine eyes of His, glinting hues of amber and banked fire. His face is compelling, and I watch it avidly, drinking Him with my gaze.

I am rising as we prepare to go to our room. His voice stops me as effectively as a hand on my arm.

“When you go to change? Clamps on immediately.”

I feel heat, in my face, between my thighs, and a tingle in my breast as my nipples rise in anticipation.

And so it began.