At the Train Station

This is the third time I've caught you looking at me. Every time I look your way, you quickly turn away like a child who has been caught with candy.

Your fingers dig into your palm and I don't have to look to know your toes are just as folded underneath your socks and expensive-looking shoes. The bench we are sharing is close enough that I can see your hands fiddle on your lap and your knees tightly coil together. The way you keep averting your eyes tells me you're dying to say something to me.

You don’t seem to realise what’s happening to you, but I do. It still surprises me because I’ve only ever seen this in kink clubs, never out in the wild. If my Domme instincts are right, you’ve somehow locked into my energy, and you are slipping into subspace without even knowing it. I know my aura can be overpowering, and I’m sure the thigh-high leather boots and sultry dark makeup aren’t helping my case. I glance down at the boots again. Yeah. Definitely the boots.

I check the time on my phone. My train won't be here for another twenty minutes. I might as well engage.

“Come here," I say calmly, not looking up from my phone.

You scurry over from your edge to stand before me.

“Sit,” I say, my voice subconsciously taking on a bite.

Something about your innocent shyness brings out my domme side, and it's getting harder for me to suppress.

You immediately drop into the seat beside me. Your eagerness to heed my orders isn't helping my inner turmoil.

You look like a lost little puppy. “Are you lost, child?”

You shake your head.

"Use your words, pup."

"N-no, I'm not. I'm waiting for my fiancée."

“What's your name?”

“Felix.”

I tilt my head. “How old are you, Felix?”

“Thirty.”

Good, I especially love it when they are older than me.

“Cute. Why were you looking at me, Felix?”

You swallow, looking at the ground.

“Look at me when I am talking to you, pup.” I say, impatience hardening my voice. “And answer my question.”

"Y--You're stunning."

"Yes, I am."

I take my time to look you over. Your black suit is in pristine condition, but your tie is a little crooked. My fingers itch to straighten it. I don't usually take in stray subs, but again, I'm bored, and everything about you begs to be dominated.

I look at you—nerves radiating off you in waves, every inch of your body taut and your handsome face twisted in an uncertain expression.

I stand. “I'm going to the bathroom, Felix. Come with me.”

It's not a question.

I turn on my heel, sashaying as I walk away. As expected, you hurry after me.

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind you, I push your back against it.

“You are too tall for me. Kneel.”

You scramble to obey, and your eagerness to please pleases me.

“Better.”

I'm standing over you, the sight of you on your knees looking up at me fills me with a heady rush.

“Do you have a safeword, pup?”

“Yes, I do.”

I remain silent.

You get the memo, because you continue, “Erm, it's M-Mosquitoes.”

Interesting.

“You understand how safewords work, right?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“If I want out of the scene, I can use the word.”

Pride fills my chest. I love when my subs educate themselves. The only thing hotter than eager submission is informed eager submission.

Good boy. I trail a finger across your lower lip.

“Pup, I am going to give you a gift to remember me by. Is that okay?”

You nod vigorously.

I raise a brow.

“Yes,” you say, immediately correcting yourself.

I hide a smile.

“Good. Look at me.”

You do, but you immediately lower your eyes.

I grab your jaw and force your eyes back to mine.

“When I say look at me, you look the fuck at me. If you break a direct order again, I'll slap you.”

I see sweat beads starting to form on your temple under the intensity of my proximity, and your body trembles with the urge to look away, but you don't.

Good.

My thumb grazes your lip again, my voice dropping to a lower, sultry tone. “Now, I was going to spit this gum out, but I have decided to use you as my bin instead. Would you like to be my bin, child?”

You nod.

My hands are raised, poised to slap your face when you quickly correct yourself and speak up.

"Yes, I'd love to be your bin."

“Good boy.” I pat your face twice in approval. “Now, open your mouth for me.”

You open up.

“Wider!”

I spit into your mouth, saliva and gum.

I force your jaw close, hold it, and lean down so my breath is on your face as I speak.

“ Now, pup, you are going to chew my trash like you are a starved little whore and your survival depends on it. Because it does. And when you sit across from your fiancée, my gum in your mouth and being a good little bin for me, you'll think about how all you are useful for is a bin. You are useless to me. You are useless to your fiancée. You are worthless to the world. Do you understand, pup?”

"Yes, I understand."

"Say your thanks."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"I am not your Mistress, I am your Goddess."

"Thank you, Goddess."

I rub your hair and turn to the mirror, digging in my purse for my lip gloss.

“I'm done with you. You can go,” I say, dismissing you.

You rise to your feet, and something catches my attention.

I turn back to you and straighten the damn tie before turning back to the mirror.

“Leave,” I say, reapplying my gloss.

You don't move and when I look at you through the mirror, you're looking intently at the floor, expression indecisive.

“Speak!” I bite out.

“What is your name?” You ask, hesitantly.

“You don't deserve my name. Now, go be useless somewhere else.”

You nod once, then leave the bathroom.