Well Seasoned.



His order was kindly terse. I couldn’t say he was mean, nor could i say he was nice. But his voice was kind, if firm. I sat the way a woman always moves to sit, curling my hands under my ass, smoothing my skirt as my butt hit the seat.

no. lift it up.

I looked at him for a moment. I wasn’t wearing panties, they were in his pants pocket. It was an old Dom trick, meeting a sub for the first time in public. Go into the restroom, remove your panties, bring them to me in your hand. An old Dom trick, indeed, but an effective one. It never failed to stir a coil of lust in my lower belly, pool saliva in my mouth.  Now he wanted me to sit my naked ass on a public chair? How disgusting.

I lifted my skirt, trying to prevent my wet pussy from making contact with the seat. I wasn’t certain if I was glad the chair wasn’t upholstered, or not. Any juicy stuff from my pussy would be visible by anyone once I stood up.

I know that bothers you. We spoke of this before. While you were in the bathroom, I did have the seat wiped with a sterile cloth.  I told the waiter you were a germaphobe.

It was considerate. And embarrassing. At that moment, the waiter returned bearing a bread platter, and menu’s. I knew that Sir would order for me. We’d discussed that earlier.

He never opened the menu.

I’ll have the steak, medium please, with the potato and vegetable medley. The young woman will have the chicken breast, roasted, with carrots. No potato.  No wine for her, but I’ll have the Greico Champagne. She will have water. With lots of ice.

He leaned back in his chair, nodding as the waiter took the menu’s away. He saw me watching the bread, my hunger obvious. I’d not had an orgasm for 5 days, and had not eaten anything more than one egg for breakfast, with a thin slice of toast.

Spread your thighs. I want to see if I can smell your pussy. It’s wet, isn’t it?

I nodded, my eyes now on his face. My thighs shifted, opened. I watched his nose flare as he breathed deeply. He nodded a bit to himself, and the blush rose on my cheeks at that very subtle confirmation that I was a slut for him.

He moved closer to me, and slid his middle finger into my steamy cleft. The roughness of a man’s hand, so unlike a woman’s, was stimulating against my clit. It rose at his gentle touches, like a kitten arching for a stroke upon its head. My eyes half-closed in bliss, I worked to keep my breath even.

You will cum for me. Here, and soon.

He moved his hand from my pussy, and took a roll from the platter before us. He broke it in half, and popped half in his mouth, chewing it carefully. The second half went under the table, and he nestled it up against me.  He pushed it down until it was under my pussy hole.

His smile was one of pure Dom pleasure.

Once you cum, you may eat that roll.

His finger was back at my clit, rubbing a bit more insistently. There was some fluttering in my belly, but I wanted to fuck so much. My pussy was clenching and unclenching. I had never cum just from having my clit rubbed; frankly I thought it was something beyond me, something more accomplished sluts could do.

He’d promised to train me to his standards. This, our first meal in public, was promising to follow along with his teach-as-we-go methods.

The roll was soft and warm pressing against my pussy. I squirmed a bit against it, against his finger. There was a tingle building up. It was different from when he fucked with my pussy. It was…outside my pussy, yet curiously inside me too. I felt quivery, shivery, yearning.

And I was so damned hungry. I wasn’t sure I could just eat my own cum. Not the same as licking it off his cock. Not the same as tasting it on his mouth, his tongue. It made me feel embarrassed. It made me feel slutty. It turned me the hell on. He was playing with me in this classy restaurant, and no one knew that I had a roll pressed against my cunt, while he, in his suit and tie, was fingering my clit.

you must be silent when you cum.

Or I will eat the roll.

My tummy gurgled and he laughed. I was so loud when I came. He was trying to tame that out of me, but it wasn’t going so well, really. Silent cumming? I hadn’t thought that far ahead, really. And suddenly it was there. Hammering against my clit, a sudden surging upwelling of feelings and I knew it was going to happen. I was going to have my very first clit-gasm!

“Sir…I…..” My eyeballs about rolled in my head, and my fingers gripped the table so hard I may have left indentations.  I hissed softly, then, a soft, tiny, little moan, quickly stifled, emerged from my mouth. My eyes flew open in shock. Horror. I didn’t. I couldn’t have.

I felt the liquid oozing from me, and his hand pulling the roll from under me. It glistened with moisture, and he lifted it to his nose, smelling it. He took a large bite, his eyes looking into mine. My mouth filled with saliva, my tummy growled hungrily. I hadn’t noticed that the sommelier was standing there with Sir’s champagne before. I only had eyes for Sir consuming my roll.

An excellent vintage, Sir?