Conversation

You play a few hands, and both you and Pet's Master are down a bit when the offer comes. The loud man offers to give you a stake so that you can remain in the game after this hand if you sell me to him. He makes the same offer to Pet's Master, but says that she will have to toughen up if she hopes to make it in his home.

You gently pull my head back away from you by my hair, compose yourself and rise. "There is a time and place for everything," you announce, "and this is neither the time nor the place for an auction. And as far as my slut is concerned, she is mine because we both want her to be mine, not because I had to make some deal with another man for her."

The loud man, red as a beet, folds and mutters some excuse about having to get home to finish some work. I stand and begin to go to the closet to get him his coat, but you stop me, saying "I won't give him a second opportunity to hurt you. He can find his own coat."

We hear the door open, and then SLAM shut. I'm standing next to you, and I still jump. I glance over at Pet, and she looks terrified. You notice as well, and send me to comfort her.

I sit down next to her and put one arm around her. She leans in toward me and I use my other hand to stroke her hair. I glance at you, and you have a strange smile on your face. I wonder what you're up to, but I have something more pressing to take care of... the young lady in my arms is weeping softly so her Master doesn't hear. When I ask her what is wrong and how I can help her, she just wipes her eyes and says, "I don't even know why I'm here. He hasn't looked at me in an hour or more."

I look at you until you turn my way and when you do, I meet your gaze and motion toward her Master with my head, hoping you'll get the hint that Pet needs some attention from him, and that I want you to let him know without suggesting that the information has come from her.

Of course, you immediately know what I want - you read me so well it is sometimes scary. You whisper to him, and I can see the gleam in your eye. He smiles and I can't help wondering what it was you said to him.

You continue speaking with him, and I am able to catch a few words: "contrast, training, desire to please" and I am becoming just a bit uncomfortable sitting there myself.

You motion for me to approach you, and I disengage myself from Pet and go to you. You pull me close and whisper something into my ear, following it with another kiss on the cheek. I take half a step back so I can look into your eyes, and ask, "This will please you? Even if I screw up?"

"Especially if you screw up because then not only will I get to watch you do this for me, I'll get to punish you afterwards. But you really should try to put a smile on her face."

I look at her Master, and he is telling Pet something. She looks at me, and back at him before nodding her assent.

I go to her and remove the wrap. I pull her into my arms on the sofa and whisper to her, "I have no idea what I'm doing so you'll have to let me know if I'm doing something wrong." She just giggles and says, "Just do what you would with Him. It will be exactly what I need."

One more glance at you and the others who have stopped even pretending to be playing poker, and it is time to begin.

I place the beer in front of the newcomer, turn just a bit and whisper in your ear, "May I place the throw from the sofa around her? She's shivering."

You turn to her master, and ask "May my slut attend to your pet? She appears to be in discomfort."

He glances over his shoulder and asks her if she is still cold. She says, "Yes, Master, I am," and he gives his assent to your request.

You just look at me, and I take the glass of brandy to her and pull the throw off the back of the sofa. I wrap it around her, and she looks up at me, so appreciative of this little comfort that I just can't resist giving her a hug.

You call me to your side and gesture that I should sit beside you. As I begin to lower myself to the floor, you catch me and whisper in my ear that you saw what I had done. (I still don't know how you do this - you really must have eyes in the back of your head.) You kiss me lightly on the cheek and allow me to sink to the floor beside you.

I wrap my arms around your calf, as this is always allowed when I am sitting with you, and you stroke my hair, encouraging me to rest my head on your thigh. You continue stroking my hair, sometimes missing by an inch or so and running a finger or your thumb across my shoulder or neck. I don't know if it is deliberate or not, because you so rarely do anything by coincidence, but I know that you understand all too well what this does to me.

I begin to whimper, softly because I don't wish to draw attention to myself, but I find myself unable to remain silent. You know, either because you can hear me or because of the way I am clutching your leg to myself, surrounding it with my breasts.

You take a moment away from dealing to ask me what it is that I want. "You, Sir. I... you... I want no, I need to feel you inside me. Please."

You smile down at me fondly and tell your friends,"You can't keep them wanting all the time" as you unbuckle your belt and unbutton your pants. I try to help, but you won't let me - I think you believe I'd take off too much. You unzip your pants and say, "Is this what you need, slut?" "Oh, yes Sir."

I manouver your cock out of your underwear and slide it inside my mouth, hurridly, as though I am afraid you'll change your mind. I love the way it feels against my lips, my tongue. I love the response when I slowly lick it from base to tip, like an ice cream cone. I take you fully into my mouth and wish I could have more.

I know the others can see, but I just don't care. I have you inside me, and that is really all that matters.

You take some of my hair and wrap it around your cock below where my lips are. You place my hand over the hair, and I masturbate you with it while sucking you off. I think you're going to give in and take me upstairs when I hear you say, "Cards, gentlemen?"

Just as I put the last of the glass into the garbage I hear you descending the stairs. Your footsteps turn toward the kitchen and I look up as you open the door. You meet my gaze and nod, letting me know that although there will be some form of punishment, you have forgiven me and won't be administering the punishment out of anger, but as a way to remind me that I belong to you, and you expect better of me. And I have to admit that I make my fair share of mistakes.

You go to the game room and I hear you say, "Well, gentlemen, shall we get started? I'll have my little slave slut bring in the refreshments and get you some new beers."

"Wait a minute," exclaims the quiet one, "aren't we short a player?" "Yes, we are," you reply. "I spoke with him earlier, and he will be arriving late. One of his pets has taken ill, and he is getting her settled before coming over."

"Why don't you decide who will be dealing first while I tell our hostess that we are ready for the goodies she has prepared."

You walk into the kitchen, wrap your arms around my waist, and tell me that you can't wait until the men see just how well I can obey your every command. All I know is that you're holding me, and that I will do anything to be able to continue to be yours.

I close my eyes and rest my head on your chest, and you quickly bring me back to reality with a swat. "Get a move on. We don't want to keep our guests waiting." You take the tray with the beer and I pick up two platters of hors d'ouvres. You walk back into the game room and are greeted with laughter from the loud man. He asks why you're doing your slave's work, and you reply,"I know, but as often as I try to convince her differently, she still insists that she has only two hands."

I can't help smiling just a little as I walk in behind you with the platters of food. I place them on the table, ask if anyone needs anything else and watch from behind your left shoulder as the game begins.

You play a couple of hands and are up just a little when we hear another knock on the door. You turn your head to instruct me, but I am already moving toward the door.

I do my best not to react when the last party enters the house. I take their coats and escort them into the game room. I ask if either of them would like something to drink, and the man says,"I'll have a beer, and I would appreciate it if you could bring my pet a brandy - I think she needs to warm up a bit."

He leads her to the sofa, and instructs her to remain there until he calls for her. While he makes his way to the poker table, I am getting his beer, and pouring a large brandy for her. She must be freezing, because all she had on under that coat were shoes, a jeweled collar and a leash.

I've just finished washing the dishes when I hear a knock so loud I drop the bowl I've been drying. It breaks into pieces, but I need to get to the door, so I just step over them and go.

Another knock, louder than the first. I hurry to the door and throw it open, just so there will be no more knocking. The man standing there looks at me with distain, as though I am part of the house rather than a person. I invite him to come in, and as he does he reaches out and grasps one of my nipple rings, tugging on it.

Without thinking about the consequences, I reach across and remove his hand. "Please allow me to take your coat while you join the other guests in the game room. If you would care for some beer, it is in the refrigerator." I know that I will pay for this statement, but I am completely taken off guard by his behavior. "If you go in there, watch out for the glass on the floor. I dropped a bowl when you knocked."

"If you were mine," he remarked, "you'd be punished for breaking my dishes." I can't help but think that if I were his, I'd run away.

He goes off into the game room and I hang his coat and rush upstairs to talk to you. By now you're almost ready to come downstairs, and I smile when I see you, even though I know you're going to be upset that I have treated one of your guests this way.

"Hi. I have something I need to tell you." You turn, and as you do I see the raised eyebrow. I swallow hard and begin. "When that man knocked I dropped the bowl I was drying, and it broke all over the kitchen floor. And I'm afraid I was quite rude to one of your guests. When I got to the door and invited him in, he grabbed one of my rings and I removed his hand. And I didn't show him into the game room and bring him a beer," I confess. "I told him he could get his own."

"Well," you say slowly, "I'm glad you came to me with this before I heard it from someone else. Now go downstairs, get on your knees and apologise. Then go clean up the glass, and be careful. I don't want you cutting yourself."

"Yes, Sir." As I turn to leave, I hear the air move, and then I feel the swat on my behind. I turn my head to look at you, and you tell me, "This isn't over."

By the time I reach the game room I'm almost in tears. I hate disappointing you, and I am dreading even approaching your guests, but I enter, walk to the loud man's chair and drop to my knees.

"I must apologise for my behavior when you arrived. I had no right to touch you that way, and should have escorted you to join the other guests."

"Damn right you should have," he snorts as he reaches out for my hair. He wraps it around his hand and uses it to pull me closer. "I'll make you pay for it, too."

He lets go of me so suddenly I lose my balance and fall to one side. I get up with as much dignity as I can manage under the circumstances, and go to clean up the glass before finishing the work in the kitchen.

As I kneel in the kitchen, sweeping the glass into the dustpan, I reflect on my earlier conviction that this was going to be an easy night. "Guess again," I say to myself. "Guess again."

"Please come in. May I get you something to drink?" As I speak, I take his jacket and hang it in the closet by the door. "I'll let Him know you are here."

"Um, do you always dress like that?" "Like this? Oh, no. If we were going to be home alone tonight I would be wearing much less."

I guide him into the game room, and go to the refrigerator to get him a beer. Before I open the door, I lean on it and just let out the breath I have been holding to get through the previous couple of minutes.

"Well," I think, "if I could get through that one, I should be okay."

I take the young man his beer and excuse myself to go upstairs and tell you that one of your guests has arrived. "Wait," he says. "What do you mean you would usually be wearing less? Don't you have any clothes?"

Uncomfortable as I am, I have to hide a smile as I respond, "I have plenty of clothes, and I wear them whenever I need to leave the house. But at home, things are different."

As I make my way up the steps I think that it is really good that your friend seems more embarrassed than I am.

I knock on the bathroom door and tell you that someone has arrived. You thank me and send me back down to continue my hostess duties until you are ready to join your friends.

I spend a few minutes in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the food, opening a bottle of wine so you'll have your preferred drink should you decide to indulge this evening.

Two more of your guests arrive, murmur their hello's and seat themselves while I put away their coats and bring them some beer. They have been here before, and I am beginning to think that the evening will be less difficult than I had imagined. I can't understand what is keeping you upstairs so long, but I put out some of the snacks and begin cleaning up the kitchen while I wait.

I can imagine the grin on your face as I look at what you've chosen. No, it isn't stockings and heels, but in a way, it is far worse. At least when I'm mostly nude, there's nothing to really draw attention to any one feature. In this outfit, well, it not only leaves nothing to the imagination, it accentuates the fact that I'm what some wonderful young people used to refer to as "top-heavy."

"Gee," I call down to you. "Do you think it is revealing enough?" Yes, I know I'll pay later for the wisecrack, but I just can't resist.

I dress, knowing that your guests will be arriving within the hour, and descend the stairs as though I'm wearing a ball gown, not this outfit that makes me look (and feel) like the village whore.

But you smile when I walk into the kitchen, and once again my heart melts. How can I even think of being self-conscious when you look so happy? I return to the snacks, putting some hors d'ouvres into the oven and cutting the crusts off bread for sandwiches. May as well go all out.

I place the thinly sliced tomato onto the platter with the lettuce and cheeses, and am reaching for the meat when you slap me on the ass. "Hey!"

"That's for the comment. And don't think I don't know what you're thinking." "Oh yeah? What am I thinking then?"

You sigh and pull up a chair. Calmly and slowly you explain that you understand that somewhere in the dark reaches of my mind, I'm plotting a way to stay out of sight while the men play. And then you remind me that as the hostess I am expected to greet our guests at the door, take their coats and offer them something to drink as I escort them into the game room.

I hang my head because I know you're right. In fact, you're right so often it sometimes gets annoying, not that I'll ever let you know I think so. But this time I have been thinking of myself rather than the comfort of our guests, and you are absolutely right to call me on it. I don't know what to expect when you call me over to you, but I expect to be chastised. Perhaps severely.

When I get to you, still looking at the foor, you reach out and grasp both my wrists in your hand, pulling me onto your lap. You wrap your free arm around me and say, "You've been such a good girl lately, I want to show you off." Of course now I feel even worse.I try to get up to finish the food, but you hold me there with one hand. "If it will make you feel better, you may wear your necklace tonight."

"Thank you. I always feel better when I wear it," I reply. You playfully push me off your lap and say "Well, you'd better get to it, hadn't you?"

I open my mouth to say something, and then catch sight of the clock. Where has the time gone? The first guests should be arriving in less than a quarter of an hour, and I am nowhere near ready.

I shoo you upstairs to take your shower and turn my attention back to the task at hand. The quiches go into the oven, the ice cube container is filled and more cubes are being frozen, the beer was delivered directly into the second refrigerator, so it is cold, there are bowls of chips and dip ready to go... but I know I've forgotten something.

The spinach dip. I hurridly grab the bowl from the refrigerator, rip the insides out of a loaf of sourdough bread and spoon the dip into the hole. Then I take a loaf of french bread and cut it into chunks, surrounding the bread bowl on the tray. I stop to take a breather, and to survey what has been accomplished, when the doorbell rings. The first guest has arrived, and you are still in the shower.

I walk through the living room to the front door, pause to gather my courage, and open the door.

As I search through the pantry for the things I will need to both complete the dinner I have already started and create the snacks for your party, I can hear you rummaging through my drawers and closet. I finish peeling the carrots and potatoes and add them to the slow cooker, then move on to making the things that need to be chilled. First the spinach dip, then the sandwiches, then the hot foods. Chips and such can be put out at the last minute, but I'll have to get you to bring the bowls down from the top shelf.

You come down the steps, and I see the smile on your face. You assure me that you have chosen something truly special for me to wear, and that it is my favorite color - blue. I smile back, and when I ask you to get the bowls down, you begin the familiar refrain. "You need a stepladder to get into bed!"

Okay, I'm short. But the shelves are high, and the bowls heavy, so you retrieve them for me. I'm done mixing the dip, and have some time before the sandwiches need to be made, and the hot foods cooked, so I run upstairs to see what you've chosen for me.

"Well, there is blue," I call down the steps. "But where is the rest of it?"

What I see laid out on the bed for me is a blue bra with cutouts for my nipples, a sheer white blouse, and a pair of blue pumps. No skirt. No apron. Nothing to hide me from your friends. I think this is going to be a long night.

I'm standing in the kitchen, peeling vegetables for tonight's pot roast when you come in and put your arms around my waist. I turn my head and find that you have dropped yours enough that I can give you a kiss on the cheek. You whisper, "Good girl," in my ear. "That will make a lovely dinner tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" I ask, turning slightly to look at you. You slip a finger through one of my nipple rings and guide me back toward the sink. "Yes, tomorrow. Tonight we're having guests."

"I have invited several of my friends over to play poker this evening. I am having beer, liquor and mixers delivered, but you will need to provide hors d'ouvres and such."

"And you'll come in to the kitchen to get them when you need more?" I ask, hopefully.

"No, you will be expected to play the role of hostess, and to greet our guests and make certain each has what he needs."

My heart sinks. I had hoped to remain behind closed doors, cooking and cleaning up while the men enjoyed their game. "Damn," slips out before I can prevent it. I clap a hand over my mouth and pray you didn't hear, but your grip on my nipple suddenly becomes tighter, and you turn me around to face you.

"You object?" you ask, simultaneously lifting my chin so I can't avoid meeting your gaze. "No, it's just..."

"Oh, yes, that. Well, I'll pick out something for you to wear. Something special."

I breathe a sigh of relief. For a while there I thought you wouldn't be relaxing the rule and I would be expected to serve while wearing only stockings and high heels.

I'm surprised, as we don't ordinarily use these, but you're the boss, so I place it on your cock and unroll it gently.

"Skirt up and on my lap," you say. This is getting strange even for us. I stand, lift my skirt and move in front of your seat. You place your hands on my hips, guiding me down and suddenly I understand the reason for the condom. I can feel the head of you cock against my ass, and it is cool with lubrication from the condom, but I can still feel the heat beneath the latex.

Slowly, carefully you lower me onto you. I can feel your cock stretching me, filling me to the point where I don't believe I can take any more. You notice that I've gotten tense, and you sharply pull me toward you, filling me completely. You keep one hand on my hip, to restrain me and your other arm you place around my waist. You hold me there, with my back against your chest and my head resting on your shoulder. It is wonderful.

I turn my head so my cheek is against your shoulder and I am facing you. "You like this?" you ask. "Oh, yes. I could stay this way forever."

With that you move your hand from my hip to my cunt and begin to tease me just a little bit. You run your fingers up between my lips and my thighs, stopping once ina while to pay attention to my clit. I'm leaning against you trying not to moan, when you plunge two fingers inside me. "Oh, God." I whisper in your ear. "What are you trying to do to me?"

"Fill you everywhere. It is what you have always said you want, and today is the day I give you exactly what you want." "Do you like it," you ask. I can't formulate a reply, as I am too busy trying not to draw attention as the movie has begun.

"I'm going to see just how many times I can make you cum before you stop being able to control your reactions. I want to see what happens when you're really overloaded with sensations."

I'm trying, really I am, but you continue to hit all the right spots, with just the right rhythm to make me melt. Over and over again you bring me just to the edge, and then back off slightly. I don't know if I can stand any more. "Want me to stop?" you ask. "No, don't stop. Don't ever stop."

So you bring out the heavy artillery. The nipple clamps and the chain. Gently, lovingly you place them on my nipples, tightening them until they are just past uncomfortable, and approaching painful. You leave them there, chain dangling, while you tease me some more. Then you turn it on full... with each thrust of your cock or your fingers you grip the chain and either pull, twist, or simply hold it up and let it fall, taking my nipples with it.

I continue to try to fightit, until you whisper three words into my ear. Hearing them, I melt, and everything you are doing becomes so much more pleasurable. Within a matter of minutes I cum, trying to cover my mouth with my hand to suppress the moans.

You do it again and again, through most of the movie. Every once in a while you offer me a sip of something cool to drink, for which I am thankful, until you take the cold cup and rub it onto my overly sensitive nipples. And then the whole cycle begins over again.

I don't know if I can make it until the end of the movie, when you suddenly, sharply bite that place on my neck that you know so well. It is just all over now. No amount of covering my mouth with my hands is going to keep this inside. God, I'm so embarrassed. There are people all around us, and most of them seem to be looking our way.

You hold me until I stop shaking, then lift me off your lap, returning me to my seat. You remove the condom and dispose of it (safely) and then you turn to me and say, "My turn." You take my hand and direct me onto my knees in front of my seat. You raise the arm between the seats so we have more room, and then you smile and whisper "Suck me off."

Gladly. I love the feeling of you inside my mouth, I love the way you taste, the way you respond to my lips and tongue. I love making you happy, even for just a little while.

As the credits begin to roll, I feel you starting to cum into my mouth. I try to catch every drop with my tongue, and yet when you are finished I find myself cleaning you with my lips and tongue to get any spots I may have missed. You pat me on the head and remind me that the lights will be coming up soon, and I look up at you, questioning you with my eyes. "Yes," you respond, "there will be time for more later."

I let go, and realise that there is no time to do anything about the clamps before the lights come up so I simply button the sheer blouse over them. Let people see - I'm not ashamed of being yours.

You take my hand and lead me out of the theater. On the way to the vehicle you ask me a question. "So, what was the movie about?" "I have no idea."

You continue to walk with me, tightening your grip on my hand just a bit. We reach the passenger door and you open it for me, strapping the seat belt around me. You get in on the driver's side, and look at me with affection and excitement in your eyes.

"You were supposed to be watching the movie," you state. "It was an exercise in concentration."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what was expected of me, so I was just trying to stay quiet."

"Well, we'll just have to make certain you don't make that mistake again, won't we?" you ask as we pull out of the parking lot, headed for home. "I think you will be spending a little time with the crop this evening, and then perhaps I'll take you for a walk through the neighborhood on your leash."

I know these aren't the worst you can come up with, and am hoping that you will settle for this punishment rather than continuing to come up with additional ideas. But the look on your face, and that half smile with which you look at me leaves me wondering... what will happen when we leave the vehicle? Will you make me strip and crawl into the house, wearing only the nipple clamps? Will you wait util we get inside and chain the clamps to my collar, leaving me to sleep that way until morning? Will it be something I haven't the experience or the imagination to think of?

Whatever it will be, I'm absolutely certain of one thing- it may start out as a punishment, but you will find a way to make both of us enjoy it in the end.

You place your arm around me, your hand at the small of my back. You propell me out of the restaurant, not too quickly, but with enough pressure that I know we have somewhere else to be.

You put me into the vehicle, and go around to get into the driver's seat. "So, how did you like your dinner?" you ask. I just blush and try to look away.

You chuckle as the engine turns over, and we're on our way. You don't answer when I ask you where we're going, so I begin imagining all sorts of scary things. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I ask. "Enjoying what?" you reply. "Keeping me in suspense."

You just chuckle again and put your arm around me. I put my head on your chest and close my eyes, safe and comfortable in your presence. It doesn't really matter where we're going. You'll be there, and I know you won't let anything too bad happen.

We pull off the freeway and you turn into the driveway of a movie theater. It looks pretty crowded, and I can tell by the gleam in your eyes that you were counting on the crowd.

You have already bought the tickets, so we go straight to the door. I have no idea what we're supposed to be seeing, but you seem to know exactly where to go, so I just follow your lead into one of the theaters.

It is already pretty dark in there, so I grab the back of your shirt and just blindly follow you up a flight of stairs and into a row of seats. You sit, and I sit next to you. By now my eyes are adjusting to the dark, and I can see that we are at the end of the row, next to the wall, in the next to the last row of seats. I still don't know what movie we're going to see, but all I can do is hope it won't be something so filthy that everyone knows why we're here.

The lights go down, and the previews begin. Some silly comedy, a historical romance, yet another version of Star Wars. I look at you to see what you're thinking, and while I'm facing you I notice that you have pulled something out of your pocket. As I watch, you unzip your pants, pull out your already erect penis and open the little packet in your hand. "Put it on," you command.

We walk to the front of the restaurant, and I just have to ask, "Traditional?" "Of course," you respond, with that half smile that sometimes says wonderful things, and sometimes says I'm really in trouble. This time, I think it might just be the latter.

We enter the restaurant and were quickly escorted to our reserved room. I know what we will find there, as we have visited this sort of place in the past. What I don't know was how exactly you expect me to function in there while dressed the way you desire.

You lead me to the cushions, and slowly I sink down onto one of them. You sit beside me, both of us facing the open doorway. My cushion is just high enough that I can cross my legs comfortably, even in those heels. But crossing my legs in that fashion leaves me exposed to the gaze of anyone entering the room. I look at you, and you just grin. I don't even try to protest - what good would it do?

Our server enters the room and approaches you, keeping her eyes averted. You order for both of us - some sort of vegetable dish for me and teryaki beef for yourself. She bows, and leaves us alone.

You put your arm around me and leaned close to my ear. "Give me your hand," you whisper. I tried to give you my right hand, but you gesture toward my left. I offer it to you, and you take it, raise it to your face, and with your thumb bend down my last two fingers. You take my first two fingers into your mouth, moistening them with your tongue. You hold my hand out and look me in the eye. "Into your cunt," you command. I am not really sure I heard you until you shove my hand down between my legs. "Fuck yourself, throughout dinner. Don't cum, just keep fucking yourself. Oh,and you will eat your meal."

Oh, my God, how am I supposed to manage that? You have already made certain that I am about half an inch from cumming, and now you are having me masturbate in public and eat dinner? Well, all I can do was try.

Our server reenters the room, bringing tea. As she enters, you put your arm around my shoulder, slipping your hand under my blouse and pinching my nipple. I know she can see, and the combination of my fingers and yours is pushing me quickly over the edge. You, of course, know exactly what you are doing, and start and stopp just in time to prevent my orgasm.

When she leaves the room, you remove your arm and begin to drink your tea. "Drink up," you say.

Each time she enters the room you hold me and torment me, pinching, pulling and caressing my nipple. Each time I find it more difficult to refrain from moaning.

It is the longest meal of my life. When you finish eating, seemingly hours later, you looked over at my meal, barely touched and said, "I suppose I'll have to let you get away with it this time," implying that there will be other similar occasions.

You tell me to remove my fingers from my cunt, and as I do you tell me to clean them in the usual way - licking and sucking my fluids from them as though I were cleaning them from your cock.

When they have been cleansed to your satisfaction, you rise and hold out your hand to assist me in rising.

"Are we going home?" I ask. "No," you respond, "the night is still young."

You slap me on the ass, (and it is a damned good thing that I jumped, rather than biting...) and told me it was time to go - we had reservations for dinner.

I raised my head and looked at you. You really were serious. You got yourself fully dressed and started the motor. I opened my mouth to say something, and very quickly shut it again as I saw the look on your face. Boy, when you mean business, you mean business.

I sat back and waited to see where we were headed. You got back onto the freeway, and I noticed that we were much farther north than I had thought.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll find out when we get there. All you need to know is that I'll be the only one speaking to the staff, and that you will be unbuttoning at least one more button on that blouse."

I did as I was told, as usual. I was still curious as can be, but I know better than to question you more than once. You reached over and pushed my skirt up just a little bit higher, as it had managed to cover more than you like when I was scooting around on the seat.

You exited the freeway into a town I'd never visited. It is close to the city, but as far as I know, it is just a bedroom community - what could possibly be there to interest you? We continued past the center of town, and you honked and waved every single time we passed by someone in a vehicle from which I could possibly be seen. I could feel my face getting red, but didn't dare complain. I walked into this relationship with my eyes wide open, and the rules don't change just because I'm embarrassed. In fact, the redder I got, the more you smiled.

Finally you pulled into a parking lot. It was a restaurant of some sort, but I couldn't see the name, and the decor wasn't making it obvious what kind of meal was ahead of us.

You got out, looking back at me only to say, "Don't move." I waited, and you made your way around to my side of the vehicle. You opened the door and held out your hand to help me get out. I slid out of the seat, pushing my skirt up even higher. "Don't even think about touching it" you said. Oh, how I hoped that gravity would be on my side for once. And it did slide back down a little, but I was far too exposed to be comfortable going into a public place. But you held my hand, and we walked toward the entrance.