The waiter came to the table before she could sit. Before she could figure out how to get her panties back from Sir’s boss. Before she could sink through the floor in mortal embarrassment.
“Your booth is ready, Sir.”
Somehow they were across the restaurant, seated in a curved booth. Somehow she was sandwiched between the two men. Their order was taken, the waiter moving away, leaving them in privacy.
He held them up, suspended on one long finger. She swallowed, trying to dislodge the thickness in her throat. She was about to die from humiliation.
“Cat has her tongue.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. I hear she has a wonderful tongue, too.”
The two chuckled.
“This isn’t funny, you know.” She stared at her place setting, refusing to make eye contact.
“On the contrary. It’s funny as hell,” said Sir’s boss. “You have questions, I imagine. Let me tell you a bit about me, and we’ll see how well I do answering the unspoken things in your head.”
He waited, seeing the sommelier coming towards them with a bottle of wine. Approving it, they sat in silence as each glass was poured.
“A toast,” he said, lifting his glass. “To submissives–the world would be far too boring without them.”
They clinked glasses and sipped. She frowned into her glass. Clever, he was. And clever Dom’s were dangerous doms. Her pussy lurched at the thought.
“Your husband and I met at a club, quite by accident. He was…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Unhappy. We talked about his work while sitting at the bar. There was a formidable Dominatrix who tried to put the moves on him, but we found someone else for her to scene with. After that, we started to talk about my business. Turns out that he had skills that I needed to complete my team. That we were both Dominants sealed the deal for me. Things clicked for us, and I’m very pleased with what he’s brought to the job. We have not played together–he explained that you are very nervous about public play–but he speaks very highly of you as a wife and as his submissive. He told me of your joint fantasy of playing with another Dominant.”
Her heart kicked up a few notches. Sir had not said a thing to her about this! Well, not since the last time she’d told him of her fantasy, at any rate. He’d held her tight after a tough scene, her body singing with pain and release. Sated, floaty, he’d asked her to share a fantasy, and she’d told him. He hadn’t spoken of it afterwards–and sometimes she wondered if she had just imagined the conversation had happened. Yet it was still in her, this ragged bit of naughty. To scene with another Dom. With Sir participating. To be fuckmeat. To be used rough, fucked hard, beaten. It was a fantasy that always got her off when she masturbated. She wasn’t sure that she wanted it to be real.
“I know this might well seem to be rather sudden to you, but we’ve actually been planning this for some time, so that you don’t think this was something we both leapt into. I’m willing to get to know you, to see if you will suit me before we decide if we’re compatible for playtime. I have no interest in owning you. I have no interest in ruining my working relationship with your husband. I do wonder if you’re going to be able to complete the task he’s set you to tonight…or if this has come as such a surprise that your ass is leaking.”
My gawd. He knew that, too? Her face flamed.
“Show him your tits.”
She turned to Sir, mouth open. His finger gestured at the buttons on her blouse. There was no bra beneath it, the deep blue color of the fabric hiding the dark circle of her aureola.
“Remove it from your waistband. That’s right, pull it out from your skirt. Now, unbutton it. The whole thing. Keep going…”
Her fingers moved at his orders but slowed as she reached the fifth button, the one just below her breasts. Her shirt would hang slightly open, anyone passing their booth would see her tits. Despite the momentary hesitation, her fingers obeyed, even when her mind objected. Somehow her shirt was unfastened, her hands laying softly in her lap. The bands of the blouse were apart by an inch.
“Here girl, turn toward me.”
Sir nodded, poking his finger against her cheek to turn her head. Again those sparkling blue eyes caught at her. Angling her body slightly, she turned to the man warming her left side. His finger curled under the edge of her shirt, lifting and parting it, exposing her left breast. Though she could feel the warmth of the digit, he never made contact with her flesh. Erotic, overwhelming, sensual– so in the moment she could barely breathe, so turned on she was sure that there’d be a big wet spot on the bench under her pussy.
Her asshole remained tightly clenched.