D/s dinner date

I love fine and fucked up things.

I enjoy well-prepared, exquisitely crafted gourmet food. I love port paired with stilton cheese. I love caviar, marbled fatty tuna, chocolate souffles, creme brulees, truffles . . .

I also enjoy humiliation and domination.

What better than to meld the two?

Perhaps we began in my powder room where I dress you as I see fit. Shall I do you up delicately in lacy pink panties? a full garter holding up your seamed stockings? Are your toenails painted? Maybe I'm feeling more brutal as I tie you up in full body harness and write "meal ticket" across your chest with my red lipstick. It's also possible I have attached carefully placed electrodes somewhere in the dark of your, ahem,manly bits and I will use the power box at my discretion throughout the evening. But whatever kinky under layer I choose, I will put on one of your tailored suits over it. My, my, your pinstripes will never be the same again.

I think I will be wearing my Prada little black dress. I'm fairly subdued myself except for my high satin stiletto heels. I simply glide across the room with them, but will also use my pointy heels on you at my discretion. My nails are painted deep violet.

We go to a fine restaurant of my choosing. When you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, I will order for both of us. Perhaps I will be so kind as to leave a liquid lady present in your drink. Discreetly spitting in your drink takes hardly any talent at all! The truly skilled can pass golden nectar into your water, rubies into your wine.

The food arrives. I will constantly pick off your plate because I ordered you the second dish I wanted. My heels dig into your crotch. My fingers nimbly play with the PES controller. I smile. I laugh.

You squirm and quiver in pain and delight.

Dessert arrives, but you shall have none of it because of course I ordered it for myself. I may permit you to lick my spoon when I'm done. But I may just hike the dial up to 10. We'll see.