We walk into a restaurant, very fancy, and i admit, i am intimidated. Everyone so chic, and here you are, all neatly set up, and you are holding the upper arm of this hippie woman. OH, she is presentable, attractive, but very much not chic! Yes, it’s me. There you have it, i am unchic, and happy in my hippie ways. Until this moment, anyway. I wish i’d …done something different. But you like me as i am, so, i try to put on a blase face, though i wonder if you feel the trembling of my arm as you guide me to our booth.
You seem to be totally unphased by my nerves, my blush as i take the seat in the booth beside you. You push aside my long floral skirt and slide close to me, until we are sitting hip to hip. You talk to the waiter a moment, but i’m not taking anything in beyond my feelings of being overwhelmed, a combination of Your close proximity to my body, and the plush surroundings.
Your arm comes around me, stroking the back of my head. Soothing your little beast, i think, with an inward grin. You lean into me, your nose just above my ear, forehead against my hair. A small tremor slides down my spine when you breathe into my ear, and you chuckle just a little as you feel my shivery response. You murmur just low enough for me to hear, “there’s my good lil slut”, and chuckle as i shiver again.
Your voice is like honey, thick, and sweet. My toes curl inside my shoes. The tickle of your breath on my ear, the soft thick accent, and you calling me slut in public in that way…all combine to shoot an arrow of need directly to my pussy.
The waiter comes, and you approve drinks, order for us. He moves away.
“Lift up your skirt, slut so I can inspect your cunt.”
Your order is terse, low-voiced. I stare at the table, but slowly lift up my skirt, bunching it up in my lap. Your hand slips between my legs, and you pinch my thigh to force me to open my legs further. How embarrassed i am to have your hand in my pussy! And yet how hot it’s making me.
I shoot you a sideways look. “Yes Master?”
“That’s a wet cunt.” You slide your fingers from me, and glide one wet finger across my lower lip. Then you gently insert the finger into my mouth. To avoid more embarrassment, i quickly clean the finger, tasting my need on your fingers. How apropos to where we are…wanting, needing, tasting, here in this elegant eatery.
The appetizer arrives, and you slip a sliver of cheese onto a cracker, and place that between my lips. As i am obediently eating you lean towards me and say,
“Wordslut, spin me a short story about you going across to the table where the older man in the gray suit is, and how you would ask him to let you suck his dick with his wife sitting there.”
I chew quickly, swallow hard. I worry that my story spinning would be something that you might have me try to act out so i stare into your eyes for a moment. Yet, you have told me to always, always Trust you, and that you would always keep me safe. I close my eyes for a moment, then spin you a story of sliding out of our booth, and slipping up next to the man. How i would begin, telling him that i am an owned slut and that you have sent me here to pleasure him if he so chooses to accept your gift.
His eyes, incredulous, slide from my tits back to our booth, then back to my mouth. I don’t know this, but you know this man, and he you. He is wise to your games. Gruffly he tells me to slide under the table, and unzip him, then suck him dry. When i am done I must also lick his wifes pussy until she cums. They are both smiling wicked smiles at me as i glance from Him to Her. I look back at You and you glare at me. I slide under the tablecloth and do my duty to you.
You applaud my story by sliding you fingers back into my slit. One probing finger finds its way into my fuckhole, and you gently tease me by fucking me just a little bit. I hold my moan behind my lips, but only barely. You slide out and wipe your fingers on my bare thigh.
“You are quite a slut tonight,” you say. I hear pride there in your voice, knowing that you pull this out of me, even here where i feel uncomfortable and exposed.
Our meal arrives. You let me eat a salad, as you work on a steak.
“Want some meat?” You ask, the double entendre not lost on me. I grin at you, and say “Yes Sir, a piece of meat would be lovely…..” and you stab a piece of steak and feed me. We are laughing at each other just now, eyes dancing, lips curved as we chew, watching each other. The waiter stops by, as they always do when our mouths are full, and asks about the meal.
“She loves the meat,” you say, gesturing to me with your fork. I blush, and look at my plate, the waiter smiles, moving away when you tell him we are fine for now.
“Spin me a story about fucking him.”
I swallow fast. This one comes easier, faster. My cunt is throbbing, my need is growing, and my story arrow is nocked and ready.
“I catch up to him as he walks toward the kitchen. “My master, ” i say, “wants to thank you for your wonderful service tonight.” He looks at me, knowing in that way that men do, i suppose. “He will let you fuck me, if he can watch.” He tells me he gets off at 11, and he wants to get off on me by 1110. His car is an old Dodge he’s restoring, parked out back. Meet him there and he’ll fuck me good.” As he turns for the kitchen, he says, fucking good tip, there.” and laughs.
I hurry to the table and tell you. At exactly 11, we’re in the parking lot. He comes out of the back from the kitchen entrance. He is already scanning the parking lot for us. He sees me, then takes my shirt and pulls it up, and pulls my tits from my bra. He pulls on my nipples, making me moan, while looking at you. He smiles at what he sees in your eyes. Grabbing me by the hair he shoves me face down over the hood of his car. The gray paint is rough against my tits, the metal cool. I feel air on my ass as my skirt is lifted up, and then his hand feeling me. He pinches my ass, and i hear your voice saying, “she’ll start dripping if you use this on her”. I hear your belt slipping from your pants. He slashes my ass again and again, and when he would have stopped, you egg him on for more. I’m moaning, crying, dancing across the hood of the car when he throws your belt at you, and i feel his cock ramrod into my cunt. He fucks me hard, slapping his pelvis into my burning ass, my hips into his side panel..He is grunting with his efforts, and cums quickly. I think it is over, but you move in, and i feel your fingers diving into my pussy, spreading my juice, his juice around my asshole. With no more warning than that, you drive into my ass, and my gasp of pain and needy fucking desire inspires you to fuck me like a bronco. In out, in out, you drive your cock deep into my bowels, until you too, blow your load up inside me. Released, i slowly slide to the ground, panting. In front of me, two sticky cocks. Rising unsteadily to my knees, i begin to lap at them, first one, then the other, cleaning them as i have been taught.
You interrupt my story here.. “Slut…”
“Master!” i protest, “i’m NOT finished yet!!”
You subside, but i see the warning in your eyes. You think i’ve forgotten a rule, but i have not, not even in my storytelling.
“where was i….oh, yes…”
“I reach between my legs to scoop up the cum leaking from me, but my hand is taken and i feel a tongue lapping at the wetness there. As i finish cleaning your cock, i look up. It is the man and wife from the restaurant! I am hoisted onto the hood of the car, and the man instructs her to clean me, and keep cleaning me until i cum all over her face…then he will finish me.”
I throw a look of triumph at you, but don’t speak it aloud. I am allowed to gloat just a wee bit…
“Okay, slut…you got me.”
I smile up at you. But you’ve got me too, i think, feeling how sopping wet it is between my thighs…and i know when your fingers go back there, i’ll be begging you to let me cum. Right here, in the restaurant.
A lovely honey cream dessert for my Master.