Slowly, the woman who has come to adore serving you as your slave, descends the stairs. Smiling as she knows your eyes are upon her, watching as they roam over her body. The soft black velvet evening gown that she is wearing clings tightly to every curve of her body, fishtailing around her ankles, a conservative slit reaching just past her knee displaying stockinged flesh. Black peep toed heels push her frame up another generous 5 inches, so that when she reaches you her eye line is level with yours.
'Will I do?' I inquire, smiling again.
'Turn around,' you return my smile and I can't help but notice the depths of those eyes, burning and smouldering right through me. Mine reflect your sentiment. My body elegantly turns so my back is facing you. Th dress is a halter neck, fastening high around my neck, leaving the whole of that pale expanse of satin skin you love so much completely bare, my back. You trail a finger down the smooth, unblemished flesh and it produces a soft shudder within me.
The clink of metal upon metal catches my attention behind me and I wait patiently as you come to stand in front of me. The handcuffs dangle before my eyes. My tongue nervously traces a wet path around my lips.
'Hands behind your back precious. You will be wearing these for the evening.' A dark gaze steadies itself on my face, waiting for my reaction.
My throat works convulsively. I can't push a word past my lips, the thought horrifies me. I'll enter the restaurant with my hands manacled behind me. Oh God. I helplessly sink to the floor. This can't be happening, it can't. I can't. You wouldn't. My eyes fly to yours. Oh God, you would. Fear, panic, horror and sheer terror cross my features. Thoughts whir through my head. What if I know someone at the restaurant? What if I have to go there again?
'Now,' you continue, as if you've said nothing out of the ordinary, 'is there anything you wish to ask me before we go?'
I blink stupidly, my thoughts all over the place, awash with terrible images of the evening I am about to endure.
'Querida,' your voice focuses me and I watch as your eyes find the crop on the floor. Oh no. Oh hell, no. You're going to make me beg to be whipped, knowing that dress will display every mark you make upon me for all to see. I take a deep steadying breath, sucking oxygen into me, glad I am on my knees, certainly not able to stand now. A tight pained swallow and I struggle to dislodge my tongue, stuck to the roof of my mouth.
'Please whip your slave,' I whisper miserably, brokenly, eyes on the floor... all pleasant thoughts of the evening having disintegrated into dust.
I feel you behind me, drawing my hands together and slowly closing the cold metal bands around my wrists. I sob softly, unable to help myself. The panic welling up inside me is all consuming and I am fighting for air, face so pallid you would think you had just delivered my death sentence.
You help me to my feet, supporting me on your body. A finger gently tilts my face up to meet yours.