i dreamt last night (this part is true) that i was with two men – maybe having coffee with them.  They were Doms but didn’t know i was submissive.  Then one of them asked me, “Well, if you know about BDSM, do you have a role?  What are you in that world?”

And i felt all shy and i said, “well, i’m – you know – i’m a sub, i guess, but…”  And he said, “A sub?”  And i said, “yes,” but i couldn’t look at him, i said, “i’m submissive, i guess, but i haven’t, you know, i haven’t done anything  in a really long time.  i guess i’m still submissive, i don’t know.  Can you be submissive if you’re not doing anything?”  And i couldn’t make eye contact, couldn’t look at him.

Then the dream switched to something else and eventually i woke up.  But i thought about this:

We are in a coffee shop, my latte untouched in front of me.  The man across from me is a stranger, except for a few exchanges on the internet.  He is better-looking than i would have thought from his picture, good looking for an old guy.  i wonder if he’s disappointed in my looks, but i will not ask. 

He looks at me with curiosity, and i mentally squirm a bit under that calm gaze.  “So do you think you’re submissive?” he asks, “or know that you are?  There’s a difference.”

“Yes,” I say, resisting a slight urge to add “Sir.”   “I know there is.  I – I know I’m submissive, at least I was in the past, for sure in the past.  Can that change?”

He smiles, just the tiniest bit, mostly with his eyes.  “I don’t know.  But it seems unlikely, doesn’t it?  How would that work, if it could change?  Something to think about.” He pauses just for a second, and adds with a slight nod, “Drink your coffee though.  Go ahead.”

Even as i reach for my latte, i know he is making a point, and i can’t stop myself, i grasp the cup, fully aware that i’m obeying him.  Watching him even as I lift the cup to my lips, i see his mouth twitch, trying not to smile.  i feel like it takes me hours to take a sip and return the cup to the saucer.  He watches me, cat and mouse, i think.  Damnit.

“How would that work,” he asks again.  “If you were submissive and enjoyed being told what to do, enjoyed following directions,” he pauses and I feel heat between my legs, as if my pussy is waking up.  Damn it.  He goes on, “If you enjoyed being spanked, lightly, for pleasure, or maybe harder, to please your Sir, and even harder maybe,  for punishment sometimes,” and my pussy clenches.  Like a stupid novel, i think, and i make myself sit still.

He smiles, and i think he can see it on my face, he knows that i’m responding.  I drop my eyes, still trying to shield myself, trying to hide my reaction.  

“Still not sure whether you’re submissive?” he asks, and i can hear amusement in his voice.  i shake my head, still looking at the table, at my coffee, anywhere but at him.  “Let’s try an experiment,” he says, and my brain goes into panic mode – an experiment?  doesn’t he see he already has, no, i really already know, this is enough, and my pussy clenches hard, i’m getting wet, damnit damnit, and i can’t respond.

“I won’t do anything you don’t agree to, you know that, right?’  i nod, i do know that.  i am not afraid of him that way, only afraid that he’ll see my soul.

“I want your wrist,” he says.  “Your left wrist.  Do you agree to let me have your wrist for a minute or two?”  

“Yes,” i whisper, withholding the “Sir” that almost slips out.

“Put your left wrist on the table,” he says.  I obey, feeling heat between my legs as I lay my arm on the table, wrist towards him.

“You have this Fitbit on your arm, I’m going to take it off,” he says.  “Turn your arm over, please.”  I like that he says please, although I would have done it anyway.  I turn my arm so the more sensitive skin of my inner arm is exposed.

His fingers on the Fitbit bracelet, the first time he’s touched me.  I shiver as he pulls it open, feeling as if he’s stripping me of my clothes.  He does it carefully, intentionally.  Not too slowly, and not as if he’s in a hurry.  I tremble a bit.

He moves the Fitbit aside, “I’ll put it here,” he says, placing it next to his coffee cup.  Both his hands are beside my wrist now, one on each side.  I’m watching, caught in an intense awareness of how close his hands are to touching me.  My palm is turned up, inner wrist exposed.

He slides his left hand under my wrist.  His right hand strokes the vein that runs to my hand.  i whimper, just a tiny whimper, hoping he can’t hear it..  His left hand encircles my wrist, closing on it in the same way that a handcuff would.  i am being held, contained.   

i cannot breathe, i swallow, loudly, i think.  His grasp on my wrist is firm, not tight, but solid.  i can not get away unless he choses to let me go.  He is watching me, i am trying not to react, but he waits.  Watching.

My nipples tingle.  My panties are drenched.  i have not felt this way in so long.  Tears fill my eyes and spill over.

His voice is gentle.  “What do you think?  Are you submissive?”  i want to answer, open my mouth, but nothing comes out.  “Answer me,” he says, and there is just enough command in his voice to allow me to obey.

“Yes, yes, sir,” i say.  i glance up and see such kindness in his eyes.

“Say it,” he says.  “Say, i am a submissive girl.”   My mouth is so dry, my heart is pounding, but he tightens his grasp on my wrist just a fraction and somehow that settles me.  i don’t have to worry or decide, i just have to obey.

“i am a submissive girl,” i say, and i feel the truth of it, my body relaxes into the knowledge, my heart opens and i long to offer myself.

“Good girl,” he says, with a smile, and a shiver of pleasure runs through me.