Patrick did not like coffee.  Its taste made the fox often made a vow to avoid it when possible.  A vow that he found himself breaking more often than not due to poor sleeping habits he developed in college.  Taking another sip from his mug, Patrick checked his messages again to confirm that it was not only the right day, but the time for the meeting was correct.
	Right now it was two AM.  In ten or so minutes he’d have to leave his apartment to drive out to some highway rest stop to meet with the online domme he’d been messaging over a month now.  It was stupid, and frankly, dangerous when he thought about it logically.  But his dick didn’t pay attention to logic.
	Hence why the coffee at two AM.
	A new message ping sounded off, reading, “You up?”
	Patrick’s chest tightened itself and his dick hardened from anticipation as he read the message.  She said she had something special planned for him, something to really test his devotion.  The fox had doubts about whether he really wanted to go further, but they were in the back of his mind as he responded.
	“Yes,” he texted back.  
Three dots flickered the screen before she responded with, “Yes what?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” he answered.  
“Better,” she texted back, “Me and my bitch are headed to the spot.  Stay where you are until I say you can come.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” he texted back, taking a sip from the coffee.  Hopefully, his arousal and the caffeine would be enough to keep him awake.
“Back against the wall, kneel and head down.  Don’t move until I say you can leave.  Photo proof.”
Patrick read that message twice, then looked over to the corner.  Was she serious?  The fox shrugged, figuring he didn’t have to actually be there until she texted back.  It’s not like she was going to know.
Three dots were bouncing as he got into position.  Kneeling over the carpeted floor, he raised his phone up and snapped a quick picture of himself kneeling down.  Even if he was only doing it for a few seconds, he was glad that his roommate wasn’t awake to see him.
“Good boy.  Don’t move until I say.” she texted back.  
“Understood, Ma’am,” he typed as he got up and sat at his kitchen table.  It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the orders, but he figured there was no harm in not following.  So instead he looked through their previous texts as he waited.
Patrick had always been interested in the BDSM world, but he never really found experiences he could enjoy.  Porn was fine, but after years it got stale.  He dated a few times, but none of them ever really seemed interested in something as simple as handcuffs on him.  Over time, his view was jaded towards it.  Five years ago he reasoned he would have stayed in that corner, just for the experience of following an order. 
He met the user, “QueenPiggy” on one of those terrible, but free, bdsm sites.  Unlike the other “doms” he had met on there, she had no interest in his money.  She was actually more interested in sharing pictures of her “bitch” as it were.  This tall female doberman who always wore a latex mask in each photo.  
They were almost like scripted porn, but there was that hint that they were real.  He later confirmed it when he noticed a local store in the background of one of the pictures.  There this bitch of hers stood with breasts exposed and leash hanging loosely as QueenPiggy took pictures.
He still wasn’t sure what brought it on, but eventually, she asked him to take some risky photos.  Nothing on the level of her bitch, but things that exposed him to her and her alone.  First, it was a picture of his ass, spread for her like she requested.  Then she had him buy a collar and pose nude in a reflection for her.  All these small orders, eventually culminating in signing her initials on his dick with a black marker and sending it to her.	
It wasn’t one-sided.  She had sent him pictures of her toys, quick little clips of her bitch licking her feet, and even a glimpse of her smile as she gave a half-faced selfie.  He was enjoying it, but he wanted more.  But she’d only accept more from another slave.  He asked to be hers immediately.  That may have been a mistake.
It was a day later until she responded to his request.  She said she didn’t think he was really ready for what that meant, but would be willing to show him.  And that was what tonight was about, showing him what being a slave was like.
He had to admit, even if he said no to a collar, it would be a night to remember.
Around twenty minutes passed and his phone buzzed, “We’re ready,” the message read, followed by an address, “Don’t keep me waiting, ;)”
Grabbing his keys, and his red zipper hoodie, the fox plugged the address into his phone and drove off.  The ten minute drive was uneventful, maybe one or two cars passed him when he hit the highway.  The rest stop was also empty when it came into view.  An island of grass with two large trees at each end, with benches, tables, and a small single building made of concrete blocks, all surrounded by an empty black lot.
She was waiting for him when he arrived, standing in his headlights as he pulled up.  Patrick could see the smirk across the pig girl’s face as she crossed her arms in his view, the light of a street lamp making it perfectly clear she enjoyed his arrival as he turned his car off.
“I hope there wasn’t any traffic,” She said as Patrick climbed out of his car.  The fox put on a smile, “No, no I can’t say there was any,” He said as he walked up to her, “QueenPiggy I presume?”
She held out her hand in the stop motion before he reached the sidewalk, then pointed down to her black buckled heels, “Kiss them,” She ordered.
Patrick looked to the heels, then to her, “O-out here?” he asked, turning his gaze to the rest of the stop.  He didn’t see anyone else, but this was still outdoors, and they were in the spotlight.  Someone could come by and-
“No one out here but us, Foxysix.  If you don’t feel like showing proper appreciation for this invite, then I suggest you drive off and stop wasting my time.”
Taking another look around to the empty highway, Patrick gulped and got down on all fours.  Slowly, he arched his head forward and pressed his lips against the black boot before him.
He could hear her chuckling above him, “Good boy.  Now,” she pushed her other heel forward, “The other,”
He followed suit, his mouth parching and his dick hardening as he did so.  He had control with the pictures, he could get the right angle or retake one he didn’t like.  There were do-overs, unlike here, where he could feel her judgment.
“Good, you can get up now.” 
She walked off as he did, her hands beckoning him to follow suit, “A few days ago you asked me if you could be my slave.  Remember that?”
“Crystally,” Patrick said.
“Well, I thought it over,” She said as they reached the bathroom doors.  The women's restroom had a sign over it stating that it was out of order, “And I do like the idea of having another slave, but I don’t think you understand what slavery means to me.  So I decided to show you,” She pushed the door open, “Bitches first.”
He had jumped the gun, or so he repeated to himself as he stepped into the bathroom.  That request was a result of a lust filled night of pictures and his own overactive imagination.  It was just a word, something used in so much of the porn he had watched.  It shouldn’t have meant much.
Like a fire in the night, Patrick noticed the black heels under one of the stalls immediately.  The jingling of metal restraints and the stretching of latex reached his ears before he could gaze his eyes upon it.  That was her slave, the one in the pictures she posted online.  The exhibitionist, the bootlicker, the submissive who’s actions reawakened his desires.
He couldn’t take another step.
“Come on,” The pig girl said as she pushed him forward, “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Almost tripping over his own feet, Patrick walked over to the open stall at a brisk pace.  Inside he saw her, the toned athletic runner form of the doberman QueenPiggy called her slave.  Wearing the mask that covered her in all their photos, but with a blindfold encasing her eyes.  Her chest was out, exposing her nipple rings to the open air.  Long thigh high latex boots encased her legs, with a spreader bar and ankle cuffs keep them from closing.  Her arms were bound behind her, though he wasn’t sure if it was to the toilet or to her back.  Her mouth was held open by a leather ring gag, and her tongue hung loose with a clothespin attached at the end.
Patrick wasn’t sure if he had ever been more erect in his life.
“Pathetic, isn’t it?” QueenPiggy said with a playful tone.
Patrick opened to answer but found his words lost as a hand gripping his ass, “She’s all exposed out here, without any way to stop some stranger from touching her,” She said, grabbing his hand and pointing it towards the bound doberman.
“Play with the rings,” she whispered, “She loves that,” 
Hands shaking, the fox slowly reached out for the doberman’s ringed nipple piercings.  Her breathing deepened the closer he got, until finally exhaling as though she held a massive breath when his hand gripped her tit.  He had seen it in so many pictures, sometimes with weights or even tied to the other.  But touching it was different.  He slid a finger through the ring and gently tugged it towards him, creating a moan from the bound doberman.
Now he was sure he’d never been so erect in his life.
“What do you want her to do?” QueenPiggy asked, her hands finding themselves in his back pockets.
He wanted to fuck her.  He knew that wasn’t the right thing to ask, he had only just met them in person.  But the thought enveloped his mind, breaking through almost every barrier of sense and logic that held him together in his aroused state.  It was too much to risk, too much to forget.
“Can...Can I fuck her?” He finally asked.
He thought he heard her chuckle behind him, “No.  That’s off limits to anyone but me.  But,” He felt her hand through his side pocket, poking and prodding at his dick, “I’ll let her suck you off, provided you agree to my terms.”
“Terms?” be said, almost out of breath.
“Nothing too serious, just a precaution for safety.  It’s only fair, right?”
He nodded.
“So, will you accept?”
“W-what are they?”
She softly patted his ass, “I lock your hands behind you.”
“That’s it?”
“Mmhmm,” she said, still toying with his dick trapped in his pants.
“I’ll do it,” he said, not even thinking about what that could lead to.  They could just tie him up and rob him, leaving him with his pants down in the ladies room.  But he was too horny to care.
“Good.  Put your arms behind you,” She ordered.  He followed and felt cold steel linking his wrists together.  Fumbling with his thumbs, he realized that these weren’t cheap toy handcuffs.  They were real restraints, or as close as they could get he assumed.  She then pushed him to the side so she could squeeze past him into the stall.  There, she removed the clothespin from the doberman’s tongue, and unlocked the gag behind her head.
“Gently now,” she whispered to her sub as she pushed her towards Patrick’s crotch.  As the dog girl reached it, QueenPiggy unzipped his pants and pulled out his hardened dick.
“Make him cum, slut,” 
Patrick gasped as the doberman’s warm mouth enveloped his dick.  In no effort at all, she reached the base of his cock, sloppily pumping her own head up and down his shaft while her tongue slathered it in saliva.  
“If you were any bigger you could really see how little of a gag reflex she has,” QueenPiggy chimed from behind him, “Everyday I had her suck a dildo, giving her a little reward whenever she passed her last mark, and a punishment if she failed.  Do you want to know how far she can go?”
He nodded.  QueenPiggy whispered, “Twelve inches without complaint.  When we started she could barely go four.”
“She’s improved a lot since I took her.  You’d never have guessed that within such a hardworking athletic achiever would be a deplorable slut.  It only took a year.  In one year I guided her from a top-line athlete into a whore sucking off strangers in a public bathroom.  And do you know why she does this?”
“B-because she likes it?” Patrick asked, in the midst of trying to not cum too early.
“No,” she said, “Whether she likes it or not doesn’t cross her mind.  She does this because it makes me smile.  Do you understand?”
He nodded, only to have QueenPiggy grab his hair and pull his head back, “I don’t think you do.  To me, a slave is not someone I just tie up or order around.  No, a slave is someone who devotes themselves to making their dominant happy.  So when people ask if they can be my slave, I need to make sure they understand what that means.”
He grew closer to climax as she talked, “Y-you come first?”
“Yes, and no.  My enjoyment is important, but the slave needs to enjoy giving their dominant joy.  In the end of the day, I can’t force my cunt over here to do anything.  Every time she follows my order, it’s because she wants to, and that makes me happy.  When I’m happy, she’s happy.  Understand?”
He tried to nod but she continued, “For example, at first if I told you to suck a dick, you’d probably be reluctant.  I know she was.  But over time, you would think less about the act and more about me.  You’ll give it a go, hating it.  Then I’ll have you keep doing it, making you get used to it.  Until one day, you don’t even think about your preference, just my satisfaction at you following along.  That’s slavery.  Are you sure you want that?”
Patrick tried to speak, but he was reaching his edge.  
She pulled his head back further, “Are you sure you want that?”
“N-” he stammered, finding it hard to breathe as his dick began to flow.
“Answer bitch!”
“No, Ma’am!” he screamed as he came.  All his desires flooded down the doberman’s mouth.  His legs gave way, but QueenPiggy caught him before he fell onto the tiled floor.  When his dick was free, cum spurted all over the doberman, painting her slave in white strands.
Tears formed as he stared up to the ceiling.  This was too much for him.  He wanted play, he wanted to be dominated, but so much of what he thought he wanted was just fantasy.  Fantasy that he didn’t want to admit was just that.
“You alright?” She asked, pulling out a set of keys and unlocking his cuffs.  Patrick nodded, trying to hold back the tears.  She wrapped her chest around his head and hugged him softly, “There, there.  It’s ok.” she said, absent of her tormenting tone of the evening.
“I’m a joke,” he said, his voice wavering.
“No you’re not,” She assured him, “Our lifestyle is just on the extreme side.  Best you find this out now, rather than later.”
The rest of that night Patrick helped clean up their little play.  QueenPiggy’s slave never took off her hood, and he decided not to pry.  He was done with this for now.  He smiled as he left, knowing now what he was better looking for.
Or at least, what he wasn’t looking for.