Audible

Thanks for the inspiration, s2.0…. ~n~

“I said, come along,  slut.”

She grumbled under her breath. Maybe a bit louder than a mere grumble.

“It’s fucking cold out here, Master.”

“Why the fuck do we have to go this way? It’s colder than a witches tit.”

“Master, I’m freezing my ass off here.”

“I said, come along, not keep talking. Just close your mouth and walk, slut. It’s simple enough to do.”

She ignored the subtle warning. She was in a mood. No. She was not in a mood. She was fucking freezing to death, that’s what she was. Why the fuck had He chosen to walk down this road, one block away from the Lake? The wind cut across miles of open, cold water,  and blew through her hat, her mittens, her pants. Her knees had goose-bumps. Her toes ached with cold. Yet Mr. Smartypants Dom Master had to take  this particular route to the restaurant.

“This is stupid, Master. We could have just hailed a cab.”

“Walking is good exercise for us both, slut. Shut up and walk.”

This was a direct order now, and yet still she could not stop her mouth. Nor her shivering.

“I’m so cold, Master. This is stupid. This was not your brightest idea, you know. The wind chill is -5 below zero, Master, and my feet are half frozen.”

His face set in those grim lines that should have clued her in to shut the fuck up. But she could no sooner stop the complaints than she could the chill wind from the Lake.

“I’m freezing to fucking death and it’s all YOUR fault, Master. This was just the most brainless idea. Walking to the restaurant when it’s this fucking cold outside. Stupid. Stupid.”

He stopped so fast that she plowed into His back.

“Did you just call me…stupid… slut?” The tone of utter shock and disbelief reminded her immediately that theirs was a TPE and not a vanilla relationship.

She tried to backpedal.
“I don’t mean that You’re stupid, Master, but you know…it’s terribly cold out here and there are warnings about wind chill and i can’t feel my fingers…” Her voice trailed off into silence as she looked up into his stormy gray eyes. She had crossed the line, big-time.

“You do us both an injustice when you think and act this way, slut. Shut your mouth. It will remain shut for the evening, until such time as I give you permission to open it. Are you clear on this instruction, slut?”

His voice was a clear testament of his disbelief that she would understand.

“I’m not stupid,” she mumbled.

His eyebrow rose into his hairline.  Although he said nothing, his disagreement with her statement was written all over his face.

“I’m not. I’m just …cold.”

“Do. you. understand. a. direct. order?”

She fell into silence. It rankled, when he pulled this with her. The big bad Dom stuff. Yes, she’d signed up for this…this slave life. And yes, it did mean listening to the Man and following his directives.

But sometimes? It just sucked.

Mulishly frowning, lips moving in silent grumbles, she trudged along behind him. A particularly biting gust whooshed down the street, and forced its way up under her coat, through her clothing, stroking against her skin like icy needles. Oh, she wanted to say more, but she wisely held her tongue. It felt like hours passed as they moved into the wind, before they came to the wide glass doors of the restaurant. She shivered, hard, as they entered the warm foyer.

The hostess led them to the back room, where a wide bank of windows overlooked a patio, now bundled up for the winter. Beyond the patio lay the Lake, waves tossing in green splendor. Here, at least, in the warmth, she could enjoy the view. She took His coat, hung it on the hook at the booth wall, deciding at the last minute to keep hers around her shoulders.

“Hang it up.”

“B-” She caught herself before she said “but” and incurred his deeper wrath. Turning, she huffed out an angry breath as she hung her coat over His.

“Fix that.”

In all things he must be dominant, even their coat arrangements? She sighed noisily. He gestured her to sit on his side of the booth, then pushed her towards the corner. The waiter approached the table.

He ordered a crisp white Chardonnay, the grilled salmon steak with lime butter, roasted root vegetables, and rice pilaf.

“And the lady?”

“She’ll sample some of mine, thank you.”

She frowned. She so hated when he did that to her. She knew it was to show her that her place was serving him, not attempting to get “equal” status, but still, it rubbed her the wrong way today. She sat back in the booth, arms crossed over her chest.

“Hands behind your back.”

They were alone in this back space for now, but still her heart tripped up a notch. What would he do, here in a public venue, to punish her? Or was he just planning on amusing himself? She had no idea, but quickly put her hands behind her back.  He affixed a zip tie around each of her wrists, then hooked them together with a small carabiner. The ties were just tight enough to be uncomfortable, but not cut off blood flow. She had about two inches of play between her wrists. She looked up at him, pouting a bit, but he ignored her. His fingers worked the buttons of her blouse free, one, two, all the way down to her waist. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out something she’d never seen before. Pulling her tits up and free from her low-slung bra, she gasped.

Gods! Anyone could be coming by.

Ignoring her noises, he lay one round, flat circlet over her nipple. Pulling one small arm back, he pulled her nipple through, and released the rod.

She swallowed back her gasp of pain. Whatever this thing was, it fucking hurt!

In seconds he had the other done, her bra pulled up, and the top two buttons refixed. He left the others open.  Her nipples throbbed.

“In case you are wondering, those are magnet clamps. The two rods are desperate to meet, and will strain with all their might to reach one another. Your nipple is in the way, of course, and will reap the benefits of their….attraction.”

The waiter came then, bringing a tray of bread to the table, but he waved it away. She could smell the wonderful scent of warm, yeasty bread, yet could only look longingly as the waiter bore them away again.

“Open your mouth.”

He popped a marble in. Oh, she hated that. It made her hungry, made her salivate even more. He waved an admonishing finger under her nose.

“No drooling.”

The sommalier brought their wine, and two glasses, yet he had one taken away. He took a sip, and declared it delightful. When the wine steward moved away, he dipped a finger into his glass, and rubbed it along her upper lip.

“Open your mouth.”

This time he added two marbles. The faint sharp taste of the wine teased her nose, her tongue. More saliva pooled, now. Every few minutes he would add another marble. She knew he carried a bunch in his pocket just for this type of punishment. The last time she’d earned ten, and had needed to hold them in her mouth for an hour. He’d slid his cock into her mouth, moaning at the sensation of hot warm marbles teasing his shaft as he’d pushed slowly into her.

She hoped he didn’t do that again. That had scared the crap out of her, trying to breath, trying to not swallow a marble, though she knew it would pass harmlessly through her system if she had.

By the time his salmon arrived, she had 18 marbles in her mouth. She was breathing deeply, and the scent of the succulent dish in front of him made her mouth water all the more. She watched as, bite by bite, the fish disappeared. He swirled the last of the vegetables in the lime butter, and scooped up the last of the pilaf.

Settling back into the booth, he debated out loud about dessert. Ice cream? Cheesecake? Ah, but he was pleasantly full. He decided against dessert. Rising from the table, he put his coat on, then pulled her from the booth. Her nipples were throbbing and she was fighting a losing battle with drool. He pulled her coat over her shoulders, her arms still hooked together under it. He fastened her buttons with a solicitousness that bordered on teasing, then steered her out of the restaurant and into the biting wind.

Somehow the cold was not as biting. Somehow the walk home was nowhere near as long as the walk to the restaurant. Somehow she knew she’d be on her knees,  cheeks jutting, as he fucked her mouthful of marbles.

Next time she would think twice before being quite so audible in her complaints.

She hoped.