H is for Headspace (Part 6 (His))

This is part 6 in an ongoing story, a segment by Charmer, a segment by Snake…
Part 1 (Hers), Part 2 (His), Part 3 (Hers), Part 4 (His), Part 5 (Hers)

Panic was flashing in his head. First, dashing outside, he just knew it wasn’t cool – she was pushing his buttons and he was trying to hide it in almost sneaking out.

But this whole thing – this change – was happening. Like, really happening. This was slipping in and out of what he’d imagined if they every did this type of thing. “This thing” – he didn’t know how to describe it, not really. He knew it flipped switches inside him that he didn’t really understand when she got like this, but right here, right now, in this ongoing… thing.

He was excited, thought he knew what way things would go, how she’d approach it, what she’d want, not want from him, from them, for herself. The simple fact was, she wasn’t hitting ANY of what he expected at this point. In fact, he’d not expected any of her approach. It was a side of her he had never seen.

He wanted to suggest ideas, but she had such a grin on her face. Sometimes, you could only sense it, sometimes you could actually see it, when he tried to steal a glance at her, just before she’d reminded him to look down, she had this… look. It was powerful as hell. Indescribable.

The calm he was picking up from her. The power in just the way she held herself, the control, even down to the way she held her wine and how she knew. SHE KNEW what he’d be thinking about in the moment, and had started jumping right in front of it, controlling even that aspect of their situation.

And… that dress. That… aura about her. To put it lightly, it was so. damn. hot. His head was swimming with possibilities. With the thought of what she was… and was not… wearing…

“Oh, refill my glass first.”

Oh, shit. She’d said something. He had been totally lost in his thoughts. His head was spinning, trying to pull back what it was. Restaurant, reservation, the one she wanted to go to… his entire body shuddered on the inside, adrenaline spiking. He had literally no idea where she wanted to go.

“Which one, Mistress,” he asked quietly. Embarrassed. Mortified, really. Braced.

Get your shit together, he screamed in his head. Or she’s going to drop you in an instant.

He asked to get wine for her, stalling, trying to remember all the things they’d talked about on the way in. Once inside, he mentally drove the route from home, focusing in on the likely places to eat there in town. Was it a type of food? A specific place? He frantically jumped on Yelp to see the restaurants close by, but everything had these damn artistic names. “Why can’t they call it ‘Bob’s Speghetti Palace’ or something so I know what the hell it is?” He was screaming inside again.

“Is there a problem?” she said from the porch. He let her know he was getting the number and calling, getting the reservation. The likelihood of getting the right place was quickly approaching zero. He felt like crap. He wanted to make sure she had an incredible time, she obviously had a specific place in mind, and he “had one job” as they say – get a reservation.

He followed behind her, listening, as she mentioned that it was good that they’d found reservations with a bit of time added on, because it was a little ways away; outside of town. There was no way, zero chance, that he’d picked the right place then. He’d gone for something closer-by. He knew he was in trouble. He wanted this to be a perfect trip. His first “assignment,” as simple as arranging dinner, and he’d blown it.

She had laid out clothes, and even a leather necklace for him. She was all business, letting him know that that was his collar while out and about, that she was still in charge, period. He was trying his best, but he could feel himself loving the idea of just being there to make the night excellent, make her feel… like a queen. Seemed cliché’, but the thought of those grins, those looks, those eyes of hers… it raced through him like electricity, and he couldn’t help but show just exactly how he felt about it – he was rock hard.

“Obviously the collar and cuffs won’t work for the restaurant so I got this to remind you that I am still always in charge. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She removed the collar and cuffs. It was so strange. When he was knelt down to make it easier to reach for her, as she slowly unbuckled and removed them, these waves of headspace were messing with him. It washed over him several times in just the time it took to remove the collar and cuffs and put on the leather necklace.

He went to get dressed and paused.

No underwear. OK. That in and of itself wasn’t a problem. He knew she loved “commando” but this was… different. He whispered , mostly to himself, about it, then quickly caught him self, she confirmed it, looking straight in his eyes. Blood surged in his cock with that look. The thought.

He started to pull his pants up, she reached down, pressed her finger along the underside and drew it up to the top of him. Drops formed. “Going to have to watch that, or others may” she said, and walked away.

He started to clean up, she quickly poked her head around the corner as he reached for a tissue. “Oh, no. I said get dressed. Now. We need to go.” She walked off with her dress to get herself ready, returned in a flash.

She looked stunning.

He waited by the door, and as she approached he darted over to grab the keys.

“You really need to be more prepared,” she said. With a serious “get your shit together,” feeling behind the words.

He was really getting excited about dinner, but at the same time knew that if she kept up, he was going to have to pay particular attention to how he fit in those pants, and that things were arranged so it wasn’t too obvious. He was really nervous about all of that, the thoughts racing through his head as he planned out the evening and how he could make sure he didn’t get in too much trouble.

Besides, she was going to LOVE the Italian place he’d reserved. They had great reviews and were just up the street.

Dinner. Then it hit him again. There was zero chance he’d picked the place she’d wanted. Zero.

“I can’t wait for that steak,” she said.

“Steak?” Gabe said.

She had a truly disappointed look on her face. He melted into the seat, feeling every bit the weight of the mistake in his selection.