TRANSFERRING LIMITS WITH G (IV)

I'm still with my head exploding from what just happened on the outdoor terrace, and once my package was thoroughly familiar with G's caresses and manipulations, it was my turn to take him to dinner at a nearby restaurant in Chueca where, except for two tables, the rest were occupied by other couples of guys.

G allowed me not to take off the thin jacket that covered my crop top, and otherwise, dinner unfolded normally. G asked me about my tastes, hobbies, and shared details about his relationships. Everything was calm. Aside from the fact that G decided for me what I would eat (a salad), and of course, I ended up inviting him, I would describe the dinner as being the closest thing to a "first dates" scenario. At least that’s what someone watching us from the outside would think. It helped me relax quite a bit.

After finishing, G ordered us to go to a nearby bar. I think it was called Lakama, and it was quite crowded for a weekday night. The bar was gay; it was clear from the promotional posters, although from what little I dared to look at the entrance (I was dead embarrassed), there were a few of everything and quite a few girls… in a very young atmosphere (20-30 years old).

G seemed to have been to the place before because he led me directly upstairs through a narrow staircase and smiled when he saw that the farthest end from the entrance, a corner of a long sofa with tables in front, was empty.

“Sit there, hetero, and make yourself comfortable,” he said, pointing to the far end of the sofa, in a corner that touched the wall.

He sat next to me. Next to him, a group of five boys and girls were gathered around one of the tables, and judging by the number of empty glasses and the liveliness of their conversation, they had been there for a long time. Outside of them, and due to the layout of the corner, we were less exposed to the rest of the bar.

My brain processed all this with fear, but G didn’t give me much time to think. After the “romantic dinner,” G returned to being the dominant figure I knew and found fascinating.

Without asking me, he took the menu and ordered two identical cocktails with vodka and other colorful liquids from a waiter who approached.

After that, checking the time, he ran his hand around my neck and pulled me towards him, forcing me to look directly at him. We were sitting next to each other very close, our thighs touching.

“There's a little over an hour until the point of no return. Although I’m clear about what you’re going to decide, let’s make sure you leave with a good memory of this place, shall we?”

Red with embarrassment, I nodded.

“Don’t make that face; I know you’re wishing for this, you need it... right?”

He grabbed my face by the chin, and as if I were a ventriloquist’s puppet, he made me nod, in a strangely humiliating gesture that made my cock wake up again.

“Great, we’re in agreement; now just relax and enjoy, you only have to worry about one thing: obeying what I say without thinking. Behave like what you are: my favorite himbo.”

This phrase was all my cock needed to stand at attention again. G had explained the meaning of this concept to me, and I found it hard to think of a more humiliating label for my case.

And it would hardly be possible for the reality of what happened in the following hour to fit better with any other concept than “himbo.” I obeyed every order, every indication, without questioning, without thinking… I placed my body at G's disposal, fully aware that I was in a public place, aware of what I was projecting with my behavior to anyone who could pay us a minimal amount of attention, but as if all that faded to the background, like the muted melody of a piano with a mute, and where my attention was solely focused on every word that came out of his mouth, like an automaton with no brain or will of its own.

We got wrapped up, always following his directions, taking advantage of the privacy of our position. G shielded us with his back from our neighbors, while I was still more exposed. He ordered me to take off my jacket, to unbutton my fly to make my package accessible, he ordered me to unbutton his, he ordered me to touch and caress his cock, hard as iron, over the thin lycra of his briefs (which, by the way, were mine)... We hugged and kissed, always to the rhythm that he set, we caressed... At times my hands had to be under my butt with my thighs open and exposed and let him do, and at times I was to be the one groping him. I drank my drink and part of his, at the pace he indicated, and only when he indicated, and the inhibiting effect of the alcohol was the catalyst that helped me follow his instructions to the letter for over an hour.

G kept checking the time, and I knew why. As we had discussed several times and agreed beforehand, the hour was approaching when G would allow me to make the only decision I was permitted to make that night:

I could end our encounter, accompany him to the hotel, and say goodbye in the lobby, or we could extend his dominance over me for another two hours, but in that case, I had to be willing to give in on one of my fundamental limits until then: to be his slave within four walls and without witnesses, in the hotel room, and with the agreed-upon rules.

Every time we talked about it, planning our encounter, I had wrestled between the thrill of giving in and the rationality of standing firm, and finally, G proposed to postpone the decision until the moment we met and had spent a few hours together as his slave, which I had accepted.

And that’s where we were.

Now G offered me the most humiliating option: to expressly and voluntarily accept to take a step further in the domination. And he did so astutely, knowing that the moment to make the decision couldn’t be more favorable to his interests: with me completely submissive to him.

“Hetero, the time has come, what do you say… do we continue or do you want me to release you and you can go back to your sad and boring hetero life?”

My mind was in turmoil. I could be free, say no, and everything would soon be just a memory... after all, I hadn’t transgressed anything I considered substantial to my sexual condition.

My brain screamed at me that this was the only rational decision, and yet my mouth couldn’t manage to articulate the monosyllable.

“I don’t want to continue, I want to leave it here…” - as in a dream, my mind screamed it, but instead, no sound came from my lips.

“I want to continue at the hotel.”

Oh God! Had I really said that? Out loud?

Soon I realized I had, because G's face lit up and he couldn’t hide a grin from ear to ear. He took my head, stroking it as you would with a dog.

“Good brave hetero! Yes, sir! I’m proud of you… do you remember what you’re committing to right? There’s no turning back; I’m going to be inflexible that you fulfill everything we discussed.”

I nodded, red with embarrassment, and G made us get up, ordered me to pay, and we left for the hotel.

I had to walk down the street with my jacket in hand, at midnight and only wearing the crop top that some of you have seen on several streets of Chueca, under the gazes of some curious and others lustful.

My mind, however, was far away… why had I accepted? Why was I so sick? What was driving me to get into such a mess? I cursed my submissive nature dozens of times in the brief walk until we entered the hotel.

In the lobby, in my crop top, not daring to look at the reception, I followed G to the elevator.

My face must have looked a certain way once inside the elevator because, pulling me by the waist, he drew me toward him and kissed me fiercely and passionately.

“Don’t worry, nothing is going to happen that you don’t want.”

His words had a calming effect, and we entered his room.

The sound of the door closing had the effect in my mind of a deadly trap closing, never to be opened again.

G sat in the armchair in one of the corners, took off his shoes, and sprawled out to get comfortable. I remained standing, nervous, not daring to move or speak for a few seconds that felt like an eternity.

I dared to look at his face. I had never seen a face that mixed satisfaction and desire so perfectly.

“Hetero, let’s begin. Take off your clothes, very slowly and sensually, until you’re left only with the thong. And look me in the eyes, no looking at the floor… Come on!”