I own a bar in midtown that has developed a reputation as a pick-up bar. It's not an ordinary pick-up bar, though; it’s one where, if you’re interested in submitting to your sexual partner, you'll find your perfect match. It often works even when that's not what you think you're looking for.

It started several years ago when my wife, who is into new-age stuff, got a Shaman to bless the bar. Basically, she blessed it, so you get what you need by sitting at the bar. She said something about the name too, but I never remembered what. I do remember her saying something about sitting at the bar. It didn’t include those who sit at the tables.

I first had a suspicion the next day that she’d done something. During the evening, as people sat at the bar drinking, eventually they left with someone. Over the next few weeks, as the locals returned to the bar, I noticed that they were pairing up dominant with submissive.

One of the first to come back was Carla. I was tending the bar when she came back. She was a beautiful woman, but shy, which wasn’t strong enough to describe her. She started telling me about the guy she’d left with. “Joel, last time I was in, I don’t know if you noticed that I left with someone. Did you?”

I was getting her drink and nodded, "Actually, I did. I’ve never seen you leave with a guy before, have I?”

"No, I don’t think so. But Leon—that's his name—came onto me, but he didn’t overwhelm me like so many men try to do. God, Leon, it was wonderful. I just melted. I let him do things; I did things that I can hardly believe we did.” She took a sip of the drink I handed her and then said, “I can’t believe I'm saying this to you, but we fucked for hours; it was wonderful.”

One by one, the locals came back with a similar dazed look and story. Some of them were about how they’d submitted, and others were about how others had submitted to them.

After a few weeks of stories like Carla's, I began to wonder what was going on. I kind of remembered her saying something about the name of the bar, people sitting at the bar, and some new-age foo-foo that I didn’t pay attention to. The stories I was getting seemed to center around the name of the bar, Submissions.

There was always submission involved. It seemed that something was changing the people that sat at the bar. It made them submit or dominate somehow; something was happening to change them.

When Ruby came back with her tale of submission, I started paying attention. She’s the exact opposite of Carla. She’s not shy or timid at all. The opposite, I thought.

RUBY’S STORY

I don’t know what happened, but when Theo sat and talked to me, I did a lot of listening to him. You know, I like to talk and control the conversation. You’ve seen me, haven’t you?

We were talking, and I heard myself invite him to my place. “I’d like you to come up to my place. ” When we stepped out of Submissions, he started kissing me. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back. I felt his fingers on my breasts, gently caressing them. He had a slight scruff that I could feel as I was kissing his face. I was enjoying it, and it was turning me on.

We’d walk a little and then stop for more kissing and exploring. He said, "Ruby, when we get to your place, I’m going to undress you. Finish undressing you.” I noticed that his fingers had unbuttoned my blouse and were touching my tits; his fingers had unfastened my bra, and I’d never noticed until he was caressing my tits.

In the elevator, I was wearing my shoes and panties; he was holding all the rest of my clothes. When we got to my floor, Mrs. Garfield was about to get in. She was so startled that she was left standing there when the elevator door closed. I just smiled at her as I led Theo to my door, and we entered.

I wanted Theo to take the first step; I wanted it to happen because of Theo. I couldn’t exactly think after the door closed; I just knew I needed Theo to take charge. I was standing there with the doorknob in my hand, waiting.

Do something, Theo; I need you to do it. I need you to take charge. It feels so strange to be waiting for something to happen, but that’s what I want. That’s what I need. Please, Theo, do it.

It was seconds later when Theo put my clothes on a chair, and he kissed me again. I could feel the stubble rasp against my skin as he was licking, sucking, and kissing my tits. God, I just melted. He had to hold me up because my legs wouldn’t support me.

When his hands pulled my panties down, his kisses moved south. God, he was kneeling in front of me, and his stubble on my pussy rasped on my tender skin. It was so erotic.

This is different; all I can do is accept what he’s doing to me. Is this what submission’s like? If it is, I want more.

I was moaning, “Theo, yes, take charge. I want you to, oh god, yes, like that.” I felt myself squirt. I could feel it as I did it. I was making a mess, and I didn’t care. I’d squirted all over his face, but it didn’t slow him down. I lost all my volition; all I could do was lay there, accepting what he was doing. I was responding to all the emotions and sensations he was creating in me. 

He can do it, God. Yes. Yes, anything. Please.

I heard my voice coming from somewhere saying, "Theo, yes, you can do anything; I want you to do things to me. Dirty things, please.”

“Tell me what you want me to do, Ruby; tell me.”

I was moaning, trying to think. All I could say was, “Theo, when you cum, I want you to deposit it on me, on my tits, on my pussy, even on my face.”

That was the first time I’d let someone decorate me with his cum; that’s what I thought about it; he was decorating me. I’d never let anyone do it, but it felt wonderful—the servile sensations that were so unlike me normally. I wanted to submit to him.

I felt like someone else was making the decisions; something else was in control, but I had no idea who it was.