✅Now! Humiliation on a First Date

2! Date?

This chapter is dedicated to Clinton. Thank you for all of your support!

"Millie?" the voice turned me around on the spot, and I felt so completely helpless, I couldn't believe it.

"Daddy?" I answered breathlessly, my eyes wide. Then I covered my mouth, blushing intensely. He'd never asked me to call him that, we'd not even discussed it; my subconscious must have picked it out of whatever stories had influenced me recently, an appropriately deferential term that suited someone who was so flustered. "Sorry, I mean Master. Uhh... Mister Reynold? I mean..." I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. But all that was on my mind was how much I needed to obey him.

"Ben is fine, Millie. But you can call me something else if it makes you more comfortable. I know this is probably a very intense situation, and I want it to be safe and comfortable for you. These feelings have been in your mind for so long, but you said this is your first time actually meeting someone you trust to explore those fantasies with you. So you're nervous, and you can call me whatever you want."

"Yes," I nodded. "Thank you, Malcolm." I giggled for a second, and then he did too. I twas glad. I'd heard a long time ago that a similar sense of humour was essential for a strong romance. And I became aware of my heartbeat again as I thought of that: Did I think of this as a romance now? I didn't know. I didn't care. I just needed to submit, and I'd be whatever he wanted me to be.

"Thanks," I said a moment later. "Thank you, Ben. I want to... There's a part of me that wants to call you by the other names, but I think I shouldn't. Not yet. We agreed some things before. Things you can do to me, to surprise me. And I'm totally open to doing any of those today. When you think the time is right. If you tell me to call you Master, Daddy, or Sir, I'll do it without question. I am happy to submit to you completely, but I don't want to dive in recklessly. I trust you to judge when we're ready for that."

He took a half step back and smiled, giving me a proper chance to look at him while he considered his response. He was taller than me, but only by a couple of inches. Older, too, although I should have known that by the fact that he had finished university. He still looked young and fit, athletic was probably a good word, and his hair was carefully styled with just a few traces of silver around the edges. It suited him, matched the frames of his half-moon glasses, and made him look distinguished without diminishing the sense of a tethered beast waiting to pounce. Like the older versions of James Bond, perhaps, or a younger James Hoffman.

When we'd first chatted, and I told him about the doms who had tried to flirt with me before, he had been quick to lecture me on safety in BDSM. A submissive wasn't there to serve their dom's needs, he said. Any relationship had to be about fulfilling the physical, sexual, or emotional needs of everyone involved. A dom simply had the power to make the decisions in the relationship, and with that power came the responsibility to ensure that the relationship satisfied both of us. And that was why I was telling him it was okay. As far as he was concerned, giving him the authority to control me was the same as saying that I trusted him with that responsibility, and that was necessary before he gave me any order.

"Good girl," he said, and I felt a thrill of pleasure in my heart, like a throbbing that convinced me of how much I wanted to please him. Or in my pants, if I was being more honest with myself. "We've only talked online before, so how about a cup of coffee and a good long chat before I make you do anything perverse. Let's go."

He set off, and I strode after him. Shirt tied around my waist, and hauling my bag back onto my shoulders.

"I can't believe you made me take my shirt off in public," I said.