✅Now! Humiliation on a First Date

1! Introduction

This chapter is dedicated to Alyssa; the first Patreon payment to clear this month. So thank you, and I hope you enjoy a new story!

When I stepped off the train, I wasn't sure what to expect. I'd sat in a carriage for an hour and a half, just to meet up with some guy off the internet. Admittedly it was first class, because he was paying for the tickets, and they brought me a pretty good breakfast on the way, but I was still nervous.

Not nervous about meeting up for sex. I mean, that was a pretty common thing, and I knew a bunch of my friends at college had done that. Nobody would judge me for that. But I didn't know if that was the plan. Not nervousness about a long-distance relationship finally turning into the real thing, because I didn't know if we even had a relationship. It was one of those things that was hard to define.

We'd started chatting six months before. I'd been looking around on FetishLibrary; that's a website where you can share all kinds of kinky stories, and browse by any kink under the sun. The filters are pretty sophisticated, and it was my primary source of fiction when I was in a certain mood. The kind of mood that ended up with my pants around my ankles and fingers buried inside me until my thoughts exploded and disappeared. I always tried to leave a comment, letting the authors know how good their stories had felt to me.

This particular day, an author was asking for ideas for what they should try next. I'd made a suggestion, typed it all out, and then realised that another fan had already suggested the same thing. I posted it anyway, with a line appended to make it clear I wasn't just copying. I'd suggested a story about a totally submissive girl at a party, so horny at the thought of being told what to do, blurting out to her crush that she would do anything he ordered. That was a fantasy and a half; I'd always been turned on at the thought of being ordered around, before I even learned what the feeling meant. And I'd gone into some detail about what orders the cool guy would give. Not the sexual stuff she'd expected, but something completely degrading, that she would never have expected to get her off until she tried it. And some guy I didn't even know had suggested almost the same scene, and the same commands.

The next time I saw he had commented on a story I was reading, I left a reply. Asked if he was stalking me. His reply was in a reply to one of my comments, on a story I'd read a month ago that he was now enjoying. Our conversation was all over the place, jumping from story to story, before we finally exchanged XV usernames so we could chat directly. We talked about music and movies, the relative merits of hard sciences and social science, and of course a lot of story recommendations. We had a lot of the same tastes, but different things too. He liked girls barefoot; I didn't get that, and I might have read a dozen different stories that mentioned the feel of soft carpet caressing the sub's toes without even realising it could turn somebody on. I preferred dominant guys to wear glasses; it made them seem more confident in my mind's eye, lending an air of authority to raise them above common thugs. He was into pregnant sex fantasies, which I'd never really understood until he explained how it made him feel. I liked to read about sleepsex; in my imagination, the fantasy of waking to find a guy making love to me was about a hundred times hotter than the simple fantasy of riding some guy. I couldn't really compare, as I'd never done either, but I was quite confident about what I liked. And there were things that we both loved, fetishes front and centre for both of us. Those were the same.

We had chatted a lot. We became good friends. I told him that I would obey any command he gave. I trusted him not to be like the jerks in so many of these stories, and he said he was glad I could trust him. He told me if I really wanted to be helpless, he could make it happen. He was a psych graduate, he said, and an expert hypnotist. We didn't even need to meet; he could make me absolutely obedient to his orders just by the words he sent me in an XV session. We talked a lot about how that could work. He said it was like a metaphor. Telling your brain a story, and you get lost in it like reading a good book. Like when you're so deep in a story that you don't stop to think about whether magic is real. Your brain doesn't question the narrative; you see these characters as real people, and everything the words describe is happening to them. And then you put yourself in a story. He could tell me a story about myself, he promised, and about how I was becoming more and more obedient. And afterwards, because I'd accepted that could happen to the character in the story, my own brain would ensure that I felt the same way. I could imagine it so easily; that trickery manipulating someone. It was the same idea as a nested script exploit, I told him, and he'd said that he didn't know that much about computer stuff. But the brain's just an organic computer, so it was kind of natural they might have the same kind of security flaws.