Conversation

When we get to the truck, you walk me around to the passenger side and open the door for me. "Get in."

I climb in, wondering where exactly we're headed, and you get into the driver's seat, closing the door and turning on the truck at the same time. We pull around the back of the restaurant, where the parking lot is almost deserted.

You turn off the truck, say, "Stay there," and climb out. I stay put (because I know better...) and wait for you to come to my side of the truck. You open the door and help me down.

You climb into the seat I have just vacated, facing the open door.

"Now."

I unzip your pants, manouver you out of your underwear and begin to suck you off, standing there in the parking lot.

The waiter goes away, shaking his head, and you leave me alone and frustrated while you wash your hands before lunch.

When you return, you are smiling at my obvious discomfort, and you chuckle as you sit back down beside me. "Something wrong?" "You're a tease, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. But I want to be certain you'll be ready to relax me when we finish eating." "Oh, I'm ready all right. And where exactly will we be doing this relaxing?'

"Oh, I think we'll find a nice quiet place to park the truck before you start driving again. And I'll get my rest while you do."

The waiter arrives with our food, and we begin to eat. You're right, of course, the meatloaf is excellent, and I'm suddenly starving. We don't talk much while we're eating, but once we sit back with our coffee, you start to describe where we're going.

"You'll continue heading south until you reach Route 52. You'll take 52 East, toward Pinnacle Rock. We may stop there for a short time to get some photos. And then I'll give you some additional directions."

Well, I wanted to know where we were headed, and now I have some idea, at least. We finish our coffee, pay the bill (tipping the waiter very well) and head out to the truck to continue our journey.

We've both removed our coats, and are sitting on the same side of the booth. You are resting your hand on my thigh when the waiter approaches us.

"Are you ready to order?" "Yes, we'll both start with coffee and we'll each be having the meatloaf special."

"Very well, sir. I'll bring that coffee right away. Cream and sugar?" "Just cream."

The waiter goes to get the coffee, and I look up at you. "Meatloaf?" "You'll like it. They do a very good job here."

When the waiter comes back with the coffee, he can't help but notice that you now have your hand between my legs, and you're teasing me with your fingers. "Shall I have the cook wait to send out your lunches?"

"No, we'll be fine. But thank you for offering." "It is just that you seem to be rather, well, busy at the moment." I'm blushing furiously, of course, and you are (as usual) taking it all in stride.

I open my eyes again when I feel your fingers running gently up and down the inside of my thigh. The truck isn't moving, but you haven't turned it off yet, so it is still nice and warm inside.

You smile down at me, and tell me that it is time for lunch. I wonder just what sort of place you've brought me to, and when I sit up I see that it is an old-fashioned truck stop, complete with Drivers Only sections.

You have me button up my blouse and my coat before we leave the truck, saying, "We don't want to create too much of a scene in here... we'll be stopping again on the way back."

But my collar remains on, and visible.

"You've eaten here before?" "Many times. We used to stop here when I was a kid, and I still do whenever I head down this way." "Then you'll know what is best to order?" "Oh, yes, Slut. I'll be ordering for both of us. Don't want you to overindulge and get sleepy after the meal, you know."

I understand that I will be driving after this, but I'm still looking forward to sitting down to a meal with you. It is always interesting to see what you choose for me.

We go inside and are almost immediately seated near a window. There is a small jukebox in the booth, and you put in a quarter and select a holiday song to cover our conversation.

"What would you like to try, Slut?" "I'll be happy with whatever you choose for me, Master."

"I know that, but what would you like to try?"

"The chicken looks good, as do the hamburgers. Either would be lovely, I'm sure."

"Then you won't be too disappointed when I order for you?" "I have never been disappointed when you have chosen for me. Never."

I feel the truck slow down and open my eyes. We've pulled off the freeway and are at a gas station.

You look over at me as I start to sit up and say, "Not yet, Slut. This is just a gas stop. I'll let you know when it is time to wake up."

I lie back down and close my eyes, hoping that there will be no cars next to us but knowing better than to try to cover myself. I'll just keep my eyes closed, and hope that nobody taps on the glass while you're off doing whatever it is you need to do.

I turn my face toward the driver's seat, and close my eyes. It is still very warm inside the truck, and I can hear you putting in the gas, so I know I'm not alone. I find myself starting to drift off again when the door opens and a rush of cold air comes in.

Then I feel something wet on my chest. I look up, and you're leaning over me with a paper towel in your hand. You start wiping my chest again, and tell me that I've been good enough that it is time for the word "BAD" to come off. But you'll put it right back on if I misbehave. It is more difficult than you had thought to get the lipstick off, and you wind up scrubbing away a good portion of the top layer of my skin while you're trying to clean me up.

I don't say it, but I'm thinking "God, that hurts." You can see it on my face, though, and you praise me for keeping quiet and not complaining. (As though I would...)

When you've finished, you ask me to look and see what is left. The first word is gone, but that just makes the word "SLUT" stand out even more.

"Sit up for a minute," you command. I comply, and you hand me a cup. "Drink some of it." I start to take a sip, when out of the corner of my eye I see a man standing next to the truck. "Don't pay any attention to him, just drink up." I do, and it is really bitter coffee. I make a face, and you laugh. "You've been coughing. I think you need to wet your throat before we start again. So drink."

I get about half the cup down, when you take it from me and tell me that I've done well, considering, and that I should try to get back to sleep. I lie back and listen as you start the truck. I manage to stay awake long enough to feel you speed up to merge onto the freeway, and then I fall asleep once more.

You lean over and kiss me to keep me from talking. You've got one hand on my tit and the other between my legs. You pinch my nipple as you penetrate me with two of your fingers.

I call out but your mouth is covering mine, so all that comes out is a muffled sigh. I'm straining against the seat belt, trying to pull you closer and telling you exactly what it is that I want you to be doing.

I buck upward with my hips to meet your hand as you fuck me hard and fast with your fingers. I can't help it - I have to taste you, so I suck your bottom lip into my mouth and run my tongue along it as you pinch my nipple harder and I start to cum.

You stop kissing me, and feed me the fingers you've just had inside me. I clean them off with my tongue and lips, savoring the taste of you and me together.

Eventually you pull away, and I am forced to let you go, even though I would prefer to hold you forever.

"Well, Slut, now it is time for sleep, isn't it?" "Yes, Master. I'll sleep well now."

"And when we get to where we're going, you'll suck me off before I go to sleep for the next part of the drive, won't you, Slut?"

"I would love to suck you off, now or later. Any time. All the time."

"But now I have to drive, so it will need to wait. After we've stopped and eaten, I will take you up on that offer, and we'll see if you can make me relaxed enough to sleep while you take us the rest of the way to the place where we'll stop for the night."

"I'm looking forward to it."

You pull out onto the freeway, and I settle in for a nice long nap. You continue to rest your hand on my thigh, and it is warm and comforting feeling you so close, as I drift off to sleep.

"Now this time," you say as you make certain I'm firmly strapped in, "you will sleep. Our next stop is about two and a half hours from here, and I expect to have to awaken you when we arrive."

"Yes, Master. I will try to sleep the whole time. But you do make it difficult when you touch me that way. Makes me want to do things that have very little to do with sleeping." "But you will sleep very well afterwards, won't you, Slut?"

"Oh, yes. I'll sleep much better after..."

You continue to hold my leash with one hand, but now you hold my hand with the other as we walk back toward the truck. Again, we pass a trash can and I get rid of the tissues.

"Don't you need to go, Master?" "No, not this time. This time we stopped just for you."

"Thank you for stopping. I know you are in a hurry to get where we're going." "Not so much of a hurry that I want you to have an accident in the car, Slut." "Yes, Sir, I understand. And I think I understand why you were so angry that I waited longer than I should have to wake you when I got so tired."

"I'm glad you are learning your lesson. Perhaps by the time we stop for food that "BAD" can come off your chest. "I would like that, Sir." "I know."

We reach the car, and I automatically pull up both my coat and my skirt before climbing in. "Don't forget to unbutton," you remark as you close the door. I do so, watching you walk around the front of the truck and get inside.

"Oh, your skirt has slipped down. Here, let me fix that." You reach across and tuck my skirt in my seat belt. "That should take care of it for a while."

"Yes, Sir." I put my head down and concentrate on maintaining control while we stroll down the sidewalk.

We continue to walk for what seems like forever, although in reality it was probably less than two minutes. Finally we reach the end of the parking area, and head into the snow.

When we arrive at the outer edge of the pet area, you lead me toward some bushes. They have no leaves, of course, but it is the middle of the day, and they will provide some cover.

"Lift your coat and your skirt." I do, and wait for further instructions.

"Hold them with one hand, and give me the other. Then squat and pee for your Master."

Thank heavens. Finally. I give you my hand, squat and... nothing. I'm going to have to force it to start, because of the circumstances. So I push with my abdominal muscles, and push, and push.

I can see that you are becoming impatient. One more huge push, and I feel the trickle of pee start. And once started, it was like the floodgates had opened. I couldn't have stopped then if the place had suddenly been filled with people.

I hear something behind me, but can't really turn to look. I look up to see what your expression will tell me, but you're not looking down at me - you are looking at the person who has come up behind us with his dog.

"What the hell are you doing?" the man asks. "This is the pet area, isn't it? I'm walking my pet so she doesn't have an accident in the car. Isn't that right, Pet?"

"Yes, Master."

I can tell by the smile on your face that the man behind me is confused, but I hear him (and his dog) heading in the other direction.

I finish, and you hand me some tissues. I clean myself and crumple the tissues into my hand as you help me up, allowing my skirt and coat to fall and cover me.

"Good Pet," you remark as you stroke my hair. "You've done well."

I sit up and start to close my blouse when you interrupt me, saying, "Not the blouse, just the coat. We don't want to smear your lipstick, now do we?" (I would love to smear it, but you'll never hear that from me.)

I pull my coat around me, and button it up all the way to my neck. I can see that it is snowing a lot out there, and I'm not looking forward to being out in it either. On the other hand, the alternative is peeing right there in the seat, which probably would get me a much more severe punishment.

You come around and open the door for me, giving me your hand to help me down from the seat. You take my leash, and begin leading me toward the edge of the rest area.

We begin walking together, but I'm in such a hurry that I start getting out in front of you. You call out my name, and I stop to wait for you, pressing my knees together and doing that little half-hop, half squirm that is somehow designed to keep my bladder from letting go right then and there.

As you approach, you take up the slack in the leash, leading me to believe that you are going to make me suffer while we slowly stroll over to the pet area.

"Please hurry, Sir." "Why would I want to do that, Slut? It isn't as bad out here as I had imagined it would be." "But if we don't get there soon, I'm not going to be able to hold it and it is going to run down my legs right here, and it will smell the whole rest of the way to wherever we're going."

"You can do it, Slut. You'll wait until you are told it is okay to relax, and then you will go promptly and without any complaints about the place or the weather."

Oh, boy. Now I'm never going to be able to relax. I shut my eyes one more time, hoping that you won't continue to tease me the whole way to the rest area. I don't now if my bladder is going to be willing to wait if you keep putting pressure on it...

"Oh, please!" "Please what, Slut? Is there something you need?" "I am not going to be able to wait if you keep doing that. Please?"

"But I want you to be able to go right away when we get there, Slut. I don't think you've noticed, but the weather is getting bad, and I don't want to be spending extra time out in the snow waiting for your shy bladder."

I'm hanging on to the armrests as you are teasing my clit with your fingers while massaging the area just above my pubic bone with the heel of your hand. I really am beginning to think I'm going to have an accident when suddenly you turn off the road and pull in to a parking space.

"Sit up and button your coat. It is too cold and windy out there for you to be naked."

I close my eyes and try to relax. I have the feeling that this punishment is going to last a good long while - at least until you decide that I've slept long enough to be safe behind the wheel again. Perhaps if I pretend to be asleep, my body will cooperate and let me relax enough to fall asleep. (It hasn't worked out so well in the past, but then you weren't stroking the inside of my thigh at the time, either.)

I do manage to relax a bit, and am just about ready to think about getting really comfortable when you change the position of your fingers again. Now you're teasing me, running a finger along my outer lips, then taking it away... sliding your hand between my legs to feel the dampness there. Holding, then gently pulling the hair around my cunt. Making my body respond to you in ways that will never allow me to get the sleep you've determined to be a part of my punishment. It just feels too good for me to relax and drift off. I want to push back against your hand, to hold you close to me, to reach down and push your fingers inside me.

And yet, you continue to tease, and I continue to suffer in silence. You aren't going to let me cum, you're just going to make it impossible for me to sleep for a while. And I'm not sure why, until I see the sign - rest area 35 miles.

You're waiting until we've stopped before you will allow me the rest we both know I need, aren't you? It certainly feels that way.

I look up at you, and you glance down at my face. "Yes, Slut. I think that you'll need to empty that bladder by the time we reach the next stop, don't you?"

Well now that you've got me thinking about it, of course I will. But I remain reclined, continuing to show myself to anyone who pulls along side us, and beginning to give in to the desire to push up against your hand.

"Not yet, Slut. Later, perhaps, but for now you just relax and let me enjoy myself while I drive." "Yes, Master. I am trying to rest, but it is difficult, and now that you have mentioned that we're going to stop, it is becoming difficult not to think about my bladder and where you are going to have me go when we get to the rest area."

"Oh, well you don't have to worry about that, Slut. After all, you are still my favorite pet."

We pull on to the freeway and you have me lie back in the seat to nap. I can feel your hand between my legs, tickling the hairs on my cunt, then returning to stroke my thing. It is making me slightly crazy, and very very horny.

I start to sit up, and your hand stops moving. "I told you to get some rest." "But your hand... what you're doing... how can I sleep?"

"Try harder. You were the one who let things get out of hand, Slut. You need the nap, and I need the entertainment so I can stay awake to drive, so you'll just have to find a way to deal with it."

I settle in for what I am afraid will be a very long day, but the rhythm of the tires on the road, the warmth of the cocoa and your stroking of my thigh conspire to make me very sleepy once again. I feel myself drifting off when I hear an air horn. There is a semi next to us.

I open my eyes, and tense up. You, of course, can feel me getting ready to sit up again and tell me, "No. Let him look. You know what you are, and he can read it on your chest. It isn't as though you've completed your punishment, you know. So you can just lie there and let him and anyone else who comes alongside us see exactly what is going on."

By the time we make it to the freeway entrance I finish up the cocoa and prepare to lie down for my nap when I see something flashing in the mirror.

Then I hear the siren. We're being pulled over, and I'm only half dressed. I look at you for instructions, but you just say "Keep still and everything will be all right."

You stop the truck, and watch in the side mirror as the officer approaches us. You roll down the window and ask if there is a problem.

He looks at me, and then looks you in the eye while he says, "I had a report that your passenger was not wearing a seat belt. But I can see that she is, so I suppose I should let you get on your way. Is that all right with you, Ma'am?"

"Yes, officer. That would be lovely."

The officer follows your arm with his eyes and sees where you have your hand, and then smiles and tells you to drive safely before he walks back to his patrol car.

"I'll bet he has plenty to say the next time he and his buddies get together."

By now, the stranger has attracted some attention. I can't really hear what you are saying, but I can make it out if I listen really hard and concentrate on reading your lips, but he is coming in loud and clear.

"I think we should let these people get to their car." He replies with a shrug and moves just barely enough to allow the woman to get in to the passenger side.

"You don't really care a whole lot about other people, do you?" you remark as you go around to your side of the truck. "I think we will be leaving now, before things become heated."

"Oh, sure. Don't let anybody else have any fun. I think I could have taught her a better lesson than just having her sit there with that on her chest. I would have had her licking my boots if she misbehaved."

You open the door and slip in, saying, "I think having to deal with the likes of you is probably more punishment than I intended her to have. We're leaving now. Goodbye."

You are all the way in the truck, and you turn it on as you're putting on your seatbelt. We pull out of the parking lot, and you look over at me. "Are you okay? Did he scare you?"

"No, I knew he couldn't get in, and I wasn't about to get out, so he couldn't really hurt me. And besides, I knew you wouldn't be gone too long."

"I might have decided to stick around and talk to someone. I could have been gone a long while." "Then perhaps I would have had time to finish my drink. He wouldn't really let me get back to it, and it is still about half full."

"Well, Slut, you'll finish it now. And then you'll take that nap." Of course, as you say this you put your hand on my thigh and start stroking the inside of it with your fingers.

"I won't be able to sleep if you keep doing that, you know." "Oh, you'll sleep. You'll sleep because it is what I want, and because you don't want to wear that "BAD SLUT" sign forever, now do you?"

"I will do my best, but with you touching me like that, I don't feel very sleepy anymore."

"You will by the time you finish that cocoa, slut. You will."

I consider myself lucky that the next couple who come back to their car don't appear to see me. Perhaps they were just being nice, but either way, it is a relief.

I begin drinking my cocoa, studying the top of the cup between sips. If I don't see them staring at me, I won't be embarrassed, right? That actually works for a few minutes until I hear a knock on the window.

I look up, and I see a man standing there, talking to me. He gestures that I should roll down the window, and I shout that I can't - I don't have the key. He starts talking more loudly (and I really wish he wasn't attracting attention that way) and suggests that I open the door if I can't open the window to talk with him.

"I don't talk to strangers." "But you'll sit there like that?" "HE isn't a stranger."

The man continues to try to convince me to get out of the truck, and says things designed to make me keep talking with him, and hopefully to get me out of the truck, I think.

Finally, I think he's had enough, as he says, "I thought you didn't talk to strangers." To which I replied, "I've been trying to get you to go away. You don't seem to know how to listen."

Then I see a familiar coat approaching him from behind. You walk up and ask if he's having fun shouting at your slut and keeping her from finishing her cocoa, as she was told to do.

"She wouldn't open the window to talk to me." "She can't open the window. I have the keys."

"But she wouldn't open the door either. Said something about you locking it and telling her to stay there. Surely she is able to decide if she wants to talk with someone or not."

"When I tell my slut that I am locking the doors and I want her to stay put, I mean I want her to stay put and the doors to stay locked. I take the keys so she isn't put in a position where she feels compelled to open the window because someone sees that they are available. The only reason for me to come out here and find the door open or to find her outside the truck at all, is if she feels she is in some sort of danger, in which case, of course, she needs to protect herself."

You start the truck and I think, "Oh, thank God... we'll get on the freeway and nobody will see me." Then I notice that you aren't heading away from the buildings. You pull into a parking spot and tell me that while the doors will be locked, I am not permitted to cover myself while you are gone.

You close the door, and walk away.

I watch you walk back to the store, and hope that nobody will come my way while you're gone. Of course, you had to pick a spot right in the middle, where there were sure to be people coming and going.

The first person to see me looks and just shakes his head as he climbs into his car. I can't bear to look at his face as he leaves, but his expression while he was shaking his head said more than enough. I won't be cold for a while. I may be blushing all over. It certainly feels that way.

"I can't. I should have told you as soon as I got off the plane, but I was just so excited about seeing you that it didn't seem to matter."

"But it does matter, now doesn't it? You're in no condition to drive, and I'm still upset with you. You don't think for a minute that your punishment is over, do you?"

"I did." "Well, Slut, you were wrong. You're sitting on your coat and skirt. I want them both up around your waist. And while you're at it, open up that blouse."

I do as I'm told, pulling the coat and skirt out from under me, and opening my blouse from top to bottom, hoping this is as bad as it will get.

"You always say you love wearing my marks, don't you, Slut?" "Yes, Sir, I do love wearing your marks." (Oh, God, what does he intend to do?)

"Well then, reach into your bag and hand over the lipstick." I grab the tube of Magenta and hand it to you. I'm not absolutely certain what is going to happen next, but whatever it is, the lipstick is far better than the permanent black marker that is usually the alternative.

"Face me, Slut."

I twist around in the seat so that I'm directly facing you and try to watch what you're doing. "Hold that hair back, and don't look down until I am finished."

I hold my hair, and try to make out the letters just by the way they feel. Two words. That is unusual. You have me mark myself with my name sometimes, but this is a first.

"Look at yourself, Slut. And tell me if I am done punishing you yet."

I look down and read the words "BAD SLUT" written across my tits. I look up at you, and you tell me to get settled in the seat, making sure the seatbelt doesn't interfere with what you've written and to finish my drink.

I go to the ladies'room, and then when I return the key, the woman at the counter looks at me and says, "He doesn't take any guff, does he?" "No, he doesn't. But he is right... I was irresponsible to get this tired before I woke him up."

I leave and head out to the truck. You're in the driver's seat, and my door is unlocked. I crawl in, and as I'm putting on my seat belt you hand me a cup and say,
"Drink this." I take a sip and while it is probably just what I need, I still say, "But this is going to put me to sleep. Cocoa always does."

"You didn't sleep on the plane, did you?"

"No, I didn't. It was noisy, and there was a lot of turbulence, and the man sitting next to me was kind of creepy."

"But you didn't see fit to tell me this, now did you?"

I'm looking down at the cup in my hands as I murmur, "No, Master, I didn't."

"How can you expect me to make the right decisions when you don't give me all the facts?"

I slink over to the corner with my head down, and try to keep from crying. You go about your business, and I just stay there, hoping you'll not be angry with me any more when it is time to leave.

"Why are you doing this? You're an adult - why do you let him treat you this way?" "He's right. I should have stopped before I got so tired, and I should be able to trust that he knows what he is doing when he tells me that where we're going is supposed to be a surprise. I deserve to stand here and think about what exactly I should have done, and why he's upset with me. I could have caused an accident by getting so tired while I was driving, and instead of being happy that he wants to surprise me with this vacation, all I've done is be cranky about not knowing more."

"So you've learned your lesson?" "Part of it. I know he wants me to be able to think for myself, but he also expects that I'm going to give him all the facts so that he can make realistic decisions, and that I'll not push myself until something bad happens just so I don't have to tell him something I don't think he wants to hear."

You have finished your shopping, and you walk up to us, holding a key in your hand. "You need to go to the ladies'room now." "But..." "Are you disagreeing with me? Would you prefer to wait until the next rest stop?" "No, Sir." "Good. Now go. And when you've returned the key I will meet you at the truck."

Half an hour or so later (you look so peaceful when you sleep) I wake you up as we pull up to the gas pump. I hop out to fill up the tank, while you pull yourself together to go inside.

"So, you're sleepy, are you? Or are you hungry first and then sleepy?" "I could eat, and I can definately use a couple of hours of sleep."

"Let's go then, Slut. We have a lot of ground to cover, and I want to get there by mid-afternoon."

"Are you going to tell me where we are going?" "You'll figure it out when we get there."

Oh, thanks. That helps. (Can you tell I'm cranky from not enough sleep, or not enough coffee, one or the other?)

You take my leash and lesd me to the little store attached to the gas station. You enter before me (and I'm still thinking dark, ugly thoughts about being kept in the dark and not trusted with even a little bit of information) and when you stop short I bump up against your back because I'm not paying attention.

"Enough." You've turned to look at me, and I can see on your face that you know just the sorts of things I've been thinking, and you are very displeased with my attitude.

"Enough," you repeat, and tears spring into my eyes. I still don't think you know what that word does to me. It sounds so final, so awful, that every time you use it I'm crushed.

You swat me on the ass, in front of all those people who have now turned to look at the man reprimanding his child (and yes, I know. If I act like one...)

You hand me my leash and just point to the corner. "And stay there."