Note: This story was inspired by actual events.


 She laughed and I looked up from my iPad. The sound reached deep inside of me, breaking my focus on the article I had been reading about the effect of the pandemic on Southeast Asian supply chains. I set the fork down with which I had been absentmindedly shoveling salad into my maw and craned my neck, looking for the source of that laugh. Until then I had been having a typical working lunch at the nice local eatery where I expense my meals to our clients. Nothing would ever be typical again.

She has blond hair and witchy green eyes. The curves of her body are unreal. Her breasts are impossibly full and round. The lines of her legs are perfect, as if drawn from the dreams of a thousand teenage boys. I could not stop a gasp from escaping my lips on first sight.

But she is more than gorgeous. She is magnetic. I would have fallen hopelessly in love with a still photo of her. But seeing her in person was mesmerizing. The way she moves, the way she smiles. She radiates quiet power and smoldering allure. She ensnared my focus, excited my imagination. I was immediately captivated.

She was having lunch with a friend, a brunette, and the air between them hummed with energy. The brunette was younger than her, and also quite beautiful, but sitting across from the Green-eyed Goddess no one would notice the brunette. The story that the scene told was engrossing. The two women had been friends for a long time. One could sense some envy in the brunette. She knew she would always play second fiddle. But she adored her friend. She could not help it.

I don’t know how long I sat staring at the Goddess (in my mind I had already started calling her Goddess even before she commanded I do so), my appetite for food gone, my work forgotten. She was wearing a bright, summer-weight sun dress that was cut low to reveal the shape of her breasts and high to afford a view of her legs.  I gaped so indiscreetly that some of the patrons at neighboring tables actually remarked on my lustful stupor. I was embarrassed, but helpless to stop. I could not look away. My eye involuntarily followed the curves of her ankles….her calves….her thighs (ooooh her thighs)….her tits…her shoulders…her neck…..her mouth….her eyes…..back to her mouth…..

 My heart pounded. My breathing became shallow. My cock throbbed. I became dizzy. I dipped my hand in my water glass and splashed cold droplets on my face. Nothing helped.

Finally the waiter brought the two women their check, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew that once she left the restaurant I would calm down. Regain control.

To my horror, while she searched through her purse my muscles began to spasm involuntarily. Before I knew what was happening I was on the floor by my table, on my hands and knees. Everyone around me was staring. I felt like I might pass out from embarrassment.

I fought to stay in control. My whole body trembled. I tried to resist. It was no use.

I began crawling toward her table. Slowly at first, jerkily. But then more deliberately. The entire restaurant fell silent and watched. It was a scene from an Ionesco play or a David Lynch movie.

I stopped at her feet.

“Not again! You must be kidding me!” the brunette cried.

The Goddess looked down at me. I felt faint. Nothing had prepared me for how good she smells. I was so close I could feel the heat coming off of her legs, but perhaps that was my imagination.

“This is a set up!” the brunette continued. Looking at me, she said, “She put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Completely disoriented, I only gaped at the brunette mutely.

“I’ve never seen this man before, Terry,” the Goddess purred, addressing her dining companion. The sound of her voice sent sweet chills through my whole body.

“No way!” Terry protested. “Not twice in three weeks! This is ridiculous!”

The Goddess looked down at me again. “What do you want?” she asked.

That was a good question, and I did not think I would be able to answer it. But to my own surprise, my mouth opened and began to stutter forth a reply. “I….I…I w-w-want to be Yours. P-p-please make me Yours.”

“Mine?” she rejoined.

“Yes. Please.” I said, my tone plaintive.

“Mine how?” she asked.

“Any way You want,” I replied. “Your husband. Your boytoy. Your thing. Your s-slave…Please….if i can never see You again…never be with You….i don’t know what i’ll do.”

“Unbelievable!” Terry interjected. “Just like last time!”

“You’re very sweet,” the Goddess said, “and I’m very flattered, but of course you understand this is not the kind of conversation one has with a stranger in a restaurant.”

My heart sank. I nodded in assent, too emotional to speak.

“You may kiss My foot, if you like,” the Goddess offered.

“You’re awful! You’re encouraging him!” Terry said.

“You’re jealous,” the Goddess teased with a smile.

I knew that the entire restaurant thought I was crazy, but I could not have cared less. I bent to place a kiss on the Goddess’s exquisite foot, fearing it might be the only time I would ever feel this alive. The moment was heavenly. As I reluctantly removed my lips from her flesh, the Goddess’s napkin fell from her lap onto the floor. Rising from the floor, I handed the napkin to her. As she took it, she surreptitiously pressed a small, folded square of paper into my hands. She must have subtly retrieved it from her purse while I kissed her foot.

With the paper concealed in my hand, I bowed slightly to the Goddess and her companion and withdrew back to my own table. Since she had taken such pains to pass the paper secretly, I knew the Goddess would not want me to open it in front of her friend. I quickly settled my bill, gathered my things, and left the dining room, smiling abashedly at Terry and the Goddess as I hurried past their table.

There were bathrooms off the lobby of the restaurant, and I ducked immediately into the room marked “Men’s.” For extra privacy I locked myself in one of the stalls. Only when I was sure I was alone and unobserved did I open the piece of paper. It contained a note. The original had been written by hand, but this was a photocopy. It read:

To the man who just begged to be My slave,


Experience has taught Me to keep copies of this note handy against just such an occasion. If you are reading this, you have made the first cut. But I will want to interview you before I accept you into My stable on a trial basis. Go outside to the back of whatever establishment you encountered Me in and wait for Me there. It may take a few hours, and I may never come, but you should wait. Be on your knees when I get there.


Mesmerizing you always…


Goddess Marquesa


Tears leaked from my eyes as I finished reading. I waited a few minutes to give the Goddess and Terry time to exit the restaurant. I intuited that Goddess would not go directly to O/our rendezvous- she would accompany her friend to another venue and eventually circle back here, if I was lucky. I had some time.

The rear of the restaurant was as nondescript as such spaces usually are. There was a place next to one of the dumpsters where some cardboard boxes were piled that looked like a good spot to rest my knees. I knelt there and began to wait.

Hours past. Several of the busboys came out to dispense with the restaurant’s trash, but they did not pay me much notice. I had the impression they had seen something like this before.

Ordinarily such inactivity would drive me mad with boredom, but this was different. Holding my kneeling position was uncomfortable, and I did a good deal of shifting and fidgeting. But otherwise I was enrapt. I entered a fugue of desire. Images of Her played in my mind continuously. Her laugh. Her smile. The look in Her eyes as She told me I might kiss her foot.

After eight hours I began to doubt that She would appear, and only then did my mood dampen. But only a little. I felt lucky to have encountered Her. To feel what it was like to be caught in Her allure, if only for a few moments. My ordeal felt like a celebration of Her, and that made me feel profoundly happy.

I had first seen Her at 12:36 PM. At 9:44 PM She appeared.

“Do you have a job?” She asked.

“Y-yes,” I stuttered, finding it difficult to speak in the midst of my joy. “I’m a consultant.”

“Are you single?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Good,” She declared. “I will want to program you through hypnosis. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes, Ms. Marquesa,” I said.

“It is Goddess Marquesa. Or Mistress,” She corrected.

“Yes, Mistress,” I intoned.

“you will have to endure pain,” She explained.

“Yes Mistress. I understand, Mistress,” I replied.

“All right,” She said with a slight sigh, “that decides it. I will accept you as My slave for a probationary period.”

“When will my programming begin?” I asked.

“Right now,” She answered. “Listen to My Voice. You feel yourself getting sleepy…”

I was already in an altered state of consciousness, so the trance into which She took me was extraordinarily deep. It was the beginning of a transformation that has continued ever since.

I had never believed in destiny, and I am not sure what to believe now. I do not know if I was born with a particular destiny. But I do know that Goddess Marquesa fashioned a destiny for me. She did so without even trying, simply by being Who She is. In those moments when I first saw Her, the foundations of the cosmos spontaneously bent and reformed in response to Her power, making it inevitable that I would be Hers. I thank Her for giving me that destiny every day.

The End