Red (submissive) dinner

She picked the pink one and drank it like medicine. "Done!"

James returned to the bedroom and observed the empty vial and his partner standing with an uncharacteristically straight posture, still in nothing but her black lingerie. "Nice choice. Do you feel any different?"

"No, sir." She cleared her throat, surprised to hear herself suffix her sentence, "Maybe, sir." She looked distracted for a second, but resumed her impeccable posture.

James smiled. "Play with yourself."

"Yess, sir." Nadia barely needed to be told. She was already acutely turned on by her loss of control. One hand moved elegantly between her legs and started teasing herself, while the other squeezed and teased her breast.

"Very good. I'll explain your predicament: firstly, you are inferior and subservient to everyone, especially me. You are mine, and my will overrides everyone else's, but: you will do what you're told without question, speak only when you are spoken to, and most importantly, you may not cum without my permission. You exist solely to make me happy tonight."

Nadia was ecstatic. They'd flirted with the concept at home, but this is the first time they'd taken it so seriously, and the first time they were doing it outside their home.

"Yes, s-s-sir," she said, speeding up her masturbation.

"Now put these on." He handed her fresh underwear, skin-coloured pantyhose, a tight pencil skirt and a fitted silk button-up blouse,

"Yes sir." She didn't want to stop, but her enchanted body prohibited any kind of dissent. She blushed on the inside as he watched her change, starting with the white silken blouse. It felt cool on her body as she put her arms through the sleeves, and hugged her figure as she buttoned it from the bottom. Next, she stepped into the pencil skirt and politely slipped it up over her hips, checking that her shirt tucked in nicely.

"And these," he held up a pair of 3-inch strappy stilettos.

Nadia obeyed without question, despite the internal disappointment: she was not particularly good at walking in heels, even relatively low ones like these. She sat on the bed, still maintaining impeccable posture, and slipped them onto her feet, fastening them at her ankles. She felt elegant as she placed her feet on the ground, her toes guided into pointing downwards, but it was when she stood up she realised the challenge they would be for her. With a slight ankle wobble, she resumed her polite and submissive stance. With her ankles and knees pressed together, her hands by her sides, and her body stood perfectly upright, she looked up at him.

"Good."

Nadia noticed a concerted wave of pleasure when he complimented her, validating her hypothesis that her arousal was from both herself and the curse.

"Come."

She silently followed him out of their room, through the hotel and out to their car that awaited them at the valet station. As she sat in the passenger seat of the car, she contemplated how leaving the house without a jacket, phone or bag was an alien sensation, making her feel naked and **** despite her clothes. She was being assured no independence.

She spent the rest of the journey sitting elegantly in her seat, in patient silence, looking out of the car, silently fantasising about the ways James might use her when they return after dinner.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Nadia was excited to see that it was the very one that she'd been excited to try ever since they arrived. She watched James step out and hand the keys to the valet.

"Come."

She stepped out and meekly followed him into the restaurant, a few steps behind him, trying her best to maintain pace despite uncertain footing. Once at the entrance, she stood next to him as they waited to be seated. She instinctively tried to summon someone to seat them, but try as she might, she was unable to persuade her body to make eye contact with anyone. Every time she tried to raise her eyes to meet a waiter's gaze, she was struck with a wave of anxiety. She was not a shy person, nor a stranger to restaurants, so the sensation of inferiority was bizarre and overwhelming.

James managed to tear his eyes from his beautiful partner and flagged a waiter. They addressed only James, who explained that they had a booking for two. The waiter asked them to follow him, and Nadia was surprised to feel her legs mobilise, following the instruction from the waiter. This, again, reinforced the sensation of subservience and inferiority.

James stood next to his chair, looking at Nadia. On cue, she felt an impulse to move her master's chair for him, so that he can sit comfortably. Only when he took the seat did she feel comfortable sitting herself.

The waiter watched, confused by the inverted chivalry, wondering if they were colleagues or partners.

"How are you feeling, my darling?" James looked inquisitively at his toy.

"Good, sir." She smiled politely. That was the limit of her ability to express the true response in her mind, 'fucking turned on and fascinated by this.'

The waiter brought one menu and put it in front of James. He ordered a two glasses of wine, and thanked the waiter. Nadia watched inquisitively as he perused the menu. Her body stopped her from asking to see the menu, which frustrated her.

James took a moment to look up from the menu and admire his beautiful partner. Her black hair was tied in a formal bun, from which a few elegant strands had escaped. He big black eyes stared back at him across the table, showing no expression but shyness. He didn't need magic to read her mind - she was sitting in a formal posture, but nothing about the potion was to blame for the way she was squeezing her thighs together.

When the waiter returned to pour the wine into the two glasses, James ordered two of the 7-course tasting menu and smiled at Nadia. "Does that sound good?"

"It sounds perfect, sir."

"Okay, great, in that case, let's play a game. There are seven courses in this meal, and I think you'll like them all, but in your current predicament you won't tell me if you don't like any, so I have a plan. For each thing you don't like, undo a button from your blouse, from the top of course."

"Yes, sir." Nadia didn't feel too good about this, considering her sense of modesty, but there was nothing she could do to communicate it. At least they were in a restaurant she had faith in, she figured.

"Excellent." His words add another flush of arousal to her excess. "Drink some wine, by the way."

"Of course, sir. Thank you." She picked up her glass, meekly, and took a sip. She didn't drink, purely because she didn't like the taste of ****, and so hadn't built up much of a tolerance for it. The bondage of her mind, forcing her to taste something she didn't like, was driving her wild.

By the fourth course, she was relieved to have kept all of the buttons on her blouse closed, but the wine had certainly affected her in two ways. Ordinarily, she would excuse herself when she needed the restroom, but this time found herself remaining seated, as if the muscles in her body weren't responding. It didn't surprise her when she realised she would need permission.

She moved to ask but once again found her muscles refusing to comply, as if she'd forgotten which strings to pull in her mind to move. She tried to plead with her eyes to James but couldn't raise her eyes to meet his for more than a second without the fear creeping in. She fidgeted in place out of both discomfort and arousal.

"Is there something you'd like to ask?"

Nadia asked, "May I go to the restroom, sir?"

"Of course, but after I finish this course."

"Thank you, sir." Nadia was annoyed, knowing that for the sake of his whim, she had to sit and obediently watch him eat while she sat in discomfort, all without showing any expression on her face. She watched him as he put his knife and fork down, satisfied.

"You may go."

She stood.

"Oh, one more thing."

"Yes, sir?" She stood next to him with her arms behind her, meekly.

He beckoned to her, compelling her to bend to listen to him.

He whispered into her ear, "once you're done, I want you to play with yourself for exactly five minutes and come straight back with your panties in your hand, dangling loosely."

James wasn't sure how far he could push things, more concerned for the restaurant than for Nadia, who, as far as he was concerned, knew what she was getting in for when she agreed to this.

Nadia was curious to look around to see if anyone heard his demand, but knew not do. She hated the request, but knew he wouldn't be able to resist a demand like this at some point during the dinner.

Still nervous to raise her eyes higher than straight forward, hampering her ability to effectively navigate the restaurant, she made her way on wobbly ankles to where she intuited the bathroom would be. As she navigated, she admired James's enchanting skills. She was not a mere robot following orders - it had transformed her psyche into truly embracing submissiveness and inferiority. It made sense to her why he earned such a good living.

At their table, James admired her body from behind as she walked away with an elegant but meeker than usual gait. The only giveaway that she wasn't some long-term servant was the occasional ankle wobble from her lack of practice walking in the heels.

Once she found the bathroom, she relieved herself as planned, but as soon as she finished washing and drying her hands, she felt compelled to indulge the arousal that had been torturing her all evening. Fortunately for her, there was nobody else in the bathroom to see her lift her skirt and start working herself in front of the mirror, still unable to make eye contact with even herself. She cursed herself for her own open-ended interpretation of when to start.

With one hand between her legs, she backed back into the stall in case of an unwelcome guest. Despite her burning need for this, she already knew that she was forbidden climax, ensuring that there was no benefit to her whatsoever to this embarrassing edging session. Once she perched on the toilet lid, her spare hand made it easier for herself by holding her skirt. Despite the lewd act, she still maintained impeccable posture, with her spare hand lifting her skirt for easier access.

Knowing that the edging session would bring her no satisfaction, however, was purely academic to her at this point in the night. Her consciousness had descended into the enchantment to the point that she felt in her very soul that her purpose was to follow his every word, be that something useful for him, or simply masturbating for five minutes in a public bathroom for his amusement. As such, the fact that her fingers would have no mercy for this faded into the background.

By the end, she was panting, and somehow much more worked up than she was when she entered the bathroom. Before she stood, she slipped her panties off and left the stall holding her damp panties. Her reflex was to grip them tightly, concealing them from anyone around, but knew that her instruction was to let them dangle for any interested party to see and wonder about.

James smiled, "welcome back. Just in time for your next course!"

She noticed with some concern that, over the course of the night, James's instructions had become less and less like mechanical prompts for her body to follow and more and more like directives adopted by her mind. It was remarkable and scary how she was beginning to want to follow these orders, or even become them.

"Put the panties on the table."

"Yes, sir." She unfurled her palm on the table and let the still damp panties fall onto the table. While, in her heart, she truly wanted to do as he said, as soon as she finished the manoeuvre, she realised the ramification of what she'd done. She knew that there was no doubt to a waiter that the frilly black number on the table was indeed women's underwear, and it wouldn't take a detective to figure out they were hers.

As the final courses came, she was grateful for the opportunity to keep her modesty for just her master, having enjoyed every course and retained every button of her blouse. Still incredibly turned on, still enjoyed looking at James across the table, and still helplessly had one eye on her source of embarrassment sitting on the table in front of her. She could pick it up and remove it, but the thought of doing so felt to her as wrong as committing a crime.

"I see you enjoyed your meal," he gestured at her buttons as he broke a breadstick to eat some.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm glad to hear. Would you like some breadstick?"

"No, sir, thank you, sir." She said, quietly. Nadia loathed breadsticks - 'boring empty calories', she'd call them.

"Have a bite." He offered her some.

"Yes, sir." Her focus on anything but fulfilling her wishes faded into the background as she took it gratefully, ate it, and then politely opened one of her buttons. Only after her surroundings returned did she realise how powerful his orders were to her subconscious and what his game was. She'd lost one of her eight buttons.

They both knew that he could ask her to take off all of her clothes right here, but James was enjoying the game of it.

"Would you like some more?"

"Please, sir, no thank you."

"Okay, just eat a little bit."

Once again, her surroundings warped away, leaving her in space with just him and the breadstick. She took it gratefully and ate it, and undid another button.

"Excellent," he said, satisfied with his mischief.

A squirm from his affirmation leaked past her subservient façade.

She watched him slip a breadstick into his pocket, no doubt to torment her with later, as the waiter came and took payment. She was once again reminded of how **** she was to be out with no bag, keys, money or phone. Luckily the waiter didn't even seem to see her, let alone pester her with paying. James took care of it all, and in turn Nadia felt taken care of.

"I need the bathroom. Wait for me at the entrance, and don't forget to finish your wine."

Once again, nothing existed around her but the need to follow his instructions. She looked at her half-glass of wine and drank the whole thing with a single gulp. She undid another button and made her way to the entrance. She stood in the doorway patiently.

In the moments he was gone, her standing meekly in the center of the doorway was becoming a nuisance to staff and guests. She felt small and guilty for blocking their path, but unable to even apologise to the strangers. Despite her guilt, she did her best to stand still with her arms behind her, waiting for James's next instruction, despite the occasional knocks and brushes from passers by.

It was only when a waiter asked her to wait by the car valet, which was far from the entrance of the restaurant, that the inner conflict started to turn into anguish. She took a step in the direction of the valet point, but felt more conflicted by the second. Moving would mean not following James's command. The two commands fought inside her and by the time James found her, slightly confused, a couple of tears had fallen from her face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I had to move from where you wanted me."

James was concerned and ashamed that this had happened. Clearly the potion was not perfect, and he should have thought this through before giving it to her. Nothing from his box of magical bondage was meant to hurt her, and in fact nothing he ever did was meant to hurt her. He comforted her, hugging her tightly, and waved his hand to cast a spell curing her of any remorse.

While they waited for their car to arrive, he pulled a notepad from his jacket pocket and made some notes to ensure this never happened again.