All That She Wants 1

Note from the author:

The story takes a while to get to the sex bits. Fair warning.

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I drummed my fingers on the table. I took a nervous breath and shifted anxiously in the booth, conspicuously alone. He always made me a little bit tense, but waiting like this only made it worse.

I was two hours from home, at a training conference for work; it was not often I had a hotel room by myself, and I had invited him to meet me.

I cursed him silently for making me wait like this.

Trying to calm my restlessness, I studied the modern-ish lines of the hotel's decor, all blues and grays and trendy exposed brick. The whole place could have been really stunning, if it hadn't looked so... terribly corporate. Like a caricature of real style. The foyer and bar were filled with high-back booths that afforded me, blessedly, a bit of privacy, and I had chosen the farthest table from the door, so I could watch the comings and goings of the other patrons. Maybe it was a remnant of some long-buried prey instinct, but I always felt more comfortable with the widest possible view of my surroundings.

The waitress dropped off my second gin and tonic with a plastic smile; the bite of the alcohol did little to calm my nerves. My breath was shallow as I tugged at my short dress.

A green dress.

That's what I had told him. I'd be wearing a green dress.

I had picked it up this afternoon, dodging out of the dull afternoon sessions I was supposed to be attending. Somehow, shopping for him just seemed like the better - or at least the more entertaining - use of my time. I had strolled slowly through the mall, aching for the hours to pass, so I could see him. When I saw the dress, I knew it was perfect; I could feel my pussy drip and my skin flush.

But now I wasn't so sure.

The dress was made of that nearly-transparent jersey fabric that was the hallmark of cheap, disposable clothing. Normally, I wouldn't waste my money on something so trashy, but somehow it didn't seem quite right to meet him in the wool pencil skirt and blazer I had brought for the conference itself. And although the choice of clothing had been intentional on my part, now I just felt silly. And slutty. And, to make matters worse, in a rush of courage earlier, I had left my bra in the room upstairs, and every small breeze reminded me of that fact. Even from my semi-protected vantage point, I still felt like every eye in the room was on my hard nipples, poking obviously from the front of the dress. I wished he'd get here, then we could go upstairs and do something that didn't make me want to cry from embarrassment.

I checked my phone. Nothing. I polished off the drink in one smooth pull.

Gods, I thought. What is wrong with you? Just go, he can call when he gets here.

I gathered my purse and was halfway out of the booth when I saw him walk through the door, his tall, broad frame moving with perfect confidence. My breath caught in my throat, and I suddenly had the feeling of a small, trapped animal. What is wrong with you? This is insane.

I watched him quickly scan the room, before laying his dark eyes on me. I licked my dry lips and sat back down, feeling strangely cornered in the booth that, until a moment ago, had felt almost safe. Adrenaline prickled up my arms.

He sauntered over to me, completely unhurried, hands in his pockets.

"You're not cutting out on me, darling, are you now?" he drawled, his voice cool as always, but with some half-hidden timbre of threat. That voice that made me want to run, and gave the impression that he'd enjoy the chase.

I let out the breath I had been holding, looking up at him with the most innocent eyes I could muster. "Jack," I said, smiling timidly. "Of course not. Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." He slid in across from me. "Because I brought something for you."

My heart skipped a beat. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Something for the occasion. Not often I get to meet you at a fancy hotel." He leaned to the side as he dug into his pocket.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he gently placed a red leather collar in the middle of the table. He looked at me with a sly smile.

I glanced around uneasily, not sure how to react. None of our play had ever been in public, and this caught me off-guard. Usually we just met, and fucked... and some other things.

Once I convinced myself that no one had discovered our table's newest accessory, I decided that maintaining civility was the best course of action. "It's... wow. It's beautiful." I was mildly pleased to hear that my voice held the confidence that I no longer felt.

The moment dragged on.

"You should put it on."

I felt my eyes go wide and my breath catch. "Oh... Of course, yes. I'd... I'd be happy to," I said, starting again to extricate myself from the table. I grabbed for my purse.

"No." His tone stopped me flat. "Put it on here."

My heart raced. "Here? But..." I tailed off, the small-trapped-animal feeling settling again into my stomach. I slumped back into the seat, a blush creeping up my neck. I looked up at him, hoping he wasn't serious. "Can't we just...?" I motioned upwards.

"No," he said, his voice hard. "I want to watch you do it here." He paused, then his face lightened. "I can give you a minute, if you want." He paused again, for effect. "Should I get a drink? Do you need another?" A look of pure innocence swept over his face. "Let me call the girl over..."

"No. No, wait." I cut him off, fingering the tooled leather. It was truly gorgeous. Thick, with a sturdy ring in the center. I had always imagined wearing his collar... just not like this. Not sitting in some bland bar, surrounded by leering strangers.

After a minute of stalling, he cocked an eyebrow at me. "Well?"

"But... everyone..." I began again, before my voice faded. I was having trouble forming a coherent thought.

He glanced around theatrically and shrugged. "Maybe. But it looks like you picked a pretty secluded spot. Furthest from the door. Good choice." He looked positively angelic.

I narrowed my eyes. Something... something about his tone made be nervous. And surprisingly wet.

His expression dimmed. "Now get on with it. Because if you make me wait any longer, I'm going to make you beg to wear it."

I bit my lip.

"... Or is that what you want?" His stony gaze pressed into me. He snaked his hand across the table, idly fingering the tendons in my hand. "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

I looked down, watching his fingers work. I nodded slowly. Small little nod. Why are you doing this?

"Use you words, slut."

I gasped softly, drawing a shaky inhale while examining the wood grain of the table. Not here. I didn't want to do this here. And yet, his words wound themselves through my mind, and I felt powerless. Perfectly powerless against him, and I loved the feeling.

"Please..." I began, hoarsely. I felt like I had a lump in my throat, and words were hard to form. "Please..." I started again. "Please... let me wear... your collar." My lips were dry, but my pussy was not. I looked back up at him, a smug smile had spread across his face. I closed my eyes. I couldn't watch him enjoy this.

"Oh, no. Not a chance, fucktoy. You don't get to hide from me." He grasped my chin possessively, with the promise of harder consequences.

My face tilted upwards, making me meet his eyes. I clenched my teeth and swallowed hard.

"Look me in the eye, and ask again."

The burn of humiliation rose through my ribs, and I let myself fall into it. "Please... Please let me wear your collar. I need... to wear it. Please." The hollow of my chest burned satisfyingly, and I felt that heat trickle down lower.

"I love to hear you beg, you know that, don't you?" I watched him shift, and I felt some gratification in knowing I was having an effect on him. He withdrew his hand, and made a small gesture with his chin. "So do it, then."

I reached forward and again felt the ornate leather work. My hands shook slightly as I fastened the buckle at the back of my neck, feeling around to the metal ring in front. I immediately loved the feel of it, a perfect fit. I rearranged my long, blonde hair around my shoulders.

His look became predatory. "Good girl. But put your hair up for me, won't you?"

A small whine escaped my lips. "... Really?"

He leaned back, looking annoyed. "This isn't that hard."

This was hard. This was so hard.

I huffed, removing the hair pin holding my bangs. I gathered up the rest of my hair, folded it into a practiced knot, and pinned it in place. Although I knew rationally that no one was looking at us, this level of display made me painfully anxious. My nipples were almost an afterthought, as the slithering warmth from my breasts swept further onto my cheeks. I wanted desperately to take him upstairs, to end this slow abasement.

"That's better. It looks very beautiful on you." He was sincere, almost breathy.

"Thank you..." I purposely let the sentence hang, not knowing how far he wanted to go with this dynamic tonight.

He pulled his lips tight. "Although I see I'm going to have to remind you of your manners, little girl." Threading his finger through the collar's ring, he pulled me closer. "The red looks good next to your pink cheeks."

Now, it wasn't my teeth that were clenching.

In one swift movement, he let me go. "Have you paid for your drinks?" His perfectly casual tone returned.

I nodded.

He smiled, but it was not kind. "That's too bad. Maybe if you ask me nicely, later, I'll tell you how I was going to suggest you pay your tab tonight."

My eyes went wide, imagining... alternative payment methods. "You... wouldn't do that."

He laughed. "Do what?" he said, the look of innocence again washing over his face. "What's got your imagination running, whore?"

I sat back in the booth, closing my eyes for a moment, embarrassed that he had caught me so quickly. Everything about this man was a trap. This is insane. I opened my eyes again.

"You're so easy," he said, his eyes crinkling with triumph. "And as much as I'd like to tease that particular bit out of you..." He paused, and dug around in his other pocket. "I've got something else for you."

"Oh?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but it felt like there was a sucking weight on my chest, that just made me want to kneel down in front of him, and submit to every whim. So my voice only ended up sounding small, and needy.

He nodded, and made a small show of placing a long leather lead on the table, neatly curled, where the collar had sat moments ago.

I looked at it, and then looked at him. An ache grew in the core of my body, and my cunt dripped. I started to shake my head slowly. "I can't... I can't believe you." I sat back, starting to get the feeling that I was very well and truly fucked. This is insane. "I can't believe this." My voice sounded shaky, unsure. "No. I don't want to do this."

"You don't?" he asked, guiltlessly, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Then he continued, suddenly sounding far more dangerous, "Tell me what you don't want to do."

My momentary indignation swept the haze from my mind. "I don't want to led around... like an animal." There was a sneaking doubt in my mind about this already, though. "In public," I clarified.

His quiet chuckle did not comfort me, and told me that the last clause hadn't escaped his notice. "I think you do. And I think that you will."

"What makes you so sure?" Jackass, I added silently.

He raised his eyebrows patronizingly. "You think I don't know you?" He paused and looked at me intensely, fingering the new accessory around my neck. "After all the time we've spent together, all the things you've told me, do you really think that I can't tell what goes through your depraved little mind?"

It upset me a little that I didn't even surprise him, and it must have shown on my face.

"Oh, now don't get all hurt about that," he said with a grin. "I've got plenty of more entertaining ways to hurt you. Now, little cunt, edge for me."

I felt my jaw go slack and my shoulders dip, the fight suddenly gone from my body. My anger evaporated, replaced with a rush of gooey warmth between my legs. "What...? No. Please, no." I didn't know what to say, I was out of words. "I mean... here? I... I can't."

He leaned back casually. "There seems to be an awful lot of things you can't do tonight." And he leaned back, watching me. "But I know you want to, don't you?"

I sighed and slowly nodded, lost. I couldn't help myself with him. My hand wound itself under the table, under the lace of my panties, and between the wet folds of my pussy. I sucked in a breath as I felt the familiar sensations ripple through my body. As if through their own volition, my fingers found every perfect place, every raw nerve that had longed for attention since I arrived here. I moaned softly.

"Good girl," he cooed.

Those words. My favorite words. My fingers picked up the pace, becoming slippery with my juices. I was adrift in my mind, in my edge, the din of the bar melting away.

I felt the beginning of the first tiny clench of orgasm just as a clear, bright voice brought me crashing back down to the real world.

"Can I get you folks any..." the waitress's perfect customer-service voice tailed off.

My eyes, lids heavy, suddenly shot open.

She stood awkwardly in front of our table, obviously not quite sure what to make of the scene laid out before her. She looked from me, panting and flushed, to him, patient and perfectly composed. Then to the collar, and then the lead. "Um... maybe you'd like a... minute..." she tried, and half-turned to leave.

"No need." He smiled disarmingly at her, his voice even. "The lady will have an ice water, thanks."

"Uh... of course." She shook her head a little, as if to clear it. "Right away." She made a beeline back to the bar.

I was frozen, hand still connected to my clit.

"Continue, slut."

"Please..."

"Please what?" He smiled at me, but it wasn't the friendly one I had just seen. "What do you need?"

My finger twitched. I was wet. Really wet. "Please... I need..." I began, circling my inflamed bud. "I... I want... Fuck! Fuck, fuck..." I pulled my hand away as my impending orgasm nearly overtook me, and clasped it protectively in my other hand. It was slick, and I could smell my sex. I drew my hips back in the seat, arching my back, feeling the promise of the climax fade.

He weaved his hand between mine, gently drawing out my slimy fingers. I was so close, I didn't resist him. He took one wet finger and touched it to my lips, and I parted them without thinking. The taste of pussy flooded my mouth as I sucked my finger clean.

"See? You want it. Your cunt doesn't lie." He took another finger, and this time, he put it in his own mouth. His soft tongue swirled around it, and I moaned, imagining that tongue somewhere else. "Delicious. You are delicious." He continued to hold my hand, and his touch felt good. "Tell me why you need this. Why you need me to do this to you."

I felt dazed. "I... don't know."

"I know why." His voice was so sure.

My pussy clenched. I was done with dignity. "Please... tell me why."

His face took on a strangely matter-of-fact look. "Because you're a submissive fuckdoll who likes being told what to do." He smiled evilly. "And you love being humiliated because it lets you feel submissive."

I stared at him. Fuck. All I could think to do was nod dumbly.

"You think I don't know you." He looked like he wanted to eat me alive. "But I do. So be a good little whore for me and clip this lead to your pretty collar, and we can go upstairs. That is what you want, isn't it?"

I nodded again, because I could not construct a more appropriate response. I fumbled with the long piece of leather on the table, eventually finding the clip end with shaking hands. The metal snap echoed in my head as I attached it to my throat, sounding much louder than it probably was.

I looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes, only to see the rounded hips of our waitress appear in my peripheral vision. My eyes followed the curve of her waist to the nape of her slender neck; I licked my lips without meaning to. She was close enough for me to smell her. Fruity, like strawberry lip gloss, and... something else. It was hard to place with the taste of my pussy in my mouth.

She had regained her composure; her voice was again bright and happy. "Here you go!" she said. "Let me know if you need anything else." I wondered if there was a hint of emphasis on the word 'anything,' or if it was just my imagination. With my dripping cunt and ragged breathing, it was probably my imagination.

It seemed like she stood, watching us, for an unusually long time before Jack dismissed her with another polite smile and small nod. But, then again, it was probably my... how did he describe it? Depraved imagination. Yes. Yes, probably that. Which was, true to form, working overtime thinking of all the places I'd like to taste on her body. You don't even like girls. This is insane. This is crazy.

His voice broke her spell. "Here, you should drink," he said, gesturing at the glass.

I took the straw into my mouth, and cool liquid poured down my throat. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was, or how dry my throat had become. I smiled, letting a small breath out. "Am I really this easy to read?"

"Yes." Perfectly stoic.

I laughed, the water cooling more than just my throat. My fog of arousal thinned, letting me almost think clearly. I finished the water and stirred the popping ice cubes, the sloshing sound so familiar as to not be heard. "Thank you," I said earnestly.

He cradled my hand from across the table. "I'll let you thank me later." He smiled. "If you're good."

And I was right back down again, ten times deeper than before. Every thought fled my mind; I felt empty, except for the burning need gnawing at my core. "I..." I started, but I didn't know where to go. Like a small, trapped animal. His small, trapped animal. Fuck.

"I know, sweetie. We're almost done here," he replied soothingly to my unvoiced question. "Soon we can go upstairs. That's what you want, right?"

I nodded, because no words would come. I needed to get upstairs with him.

"Good girl." He let my hand go. "Just give me the end of that lead, and we can get out of here." His voice was relaxed, with not a hint of menace.

I picked up the lead and reached halfway across the table. Such an easy, simple request.

Someone laughed loudly across the room, making me suddenly blink. I shook my head, clearing some mental fog. I looked around and remembered where I was. I looked at him, and I looked at the lead I was about to hand him. And then, in one sickening moment of realization, I recognized what he had intended all along.

My breath caught in my throat, and I dropped the lead back to the table. This cursed table, so very far from the door; the table that had made me feel safe and protected. I inwardly swore at myself, believing that I could have any semblance of respectability with this man. He didn't make anything easy on me, ever. What had I expected, when I asked him to meet me here?

Goddammit. I shook my head again, but this time in defeat. "I... can't. I won't." I already knew that was a lie, because some perverse piece of me needed this. He was right. I couldn't even look at him, as I felt my eyes fill with tears.

"I love when you try to fight back. And I love watching you argue with yourself." Again, his hands covered mine. They felt warm, but maybe that was only because mine were so cold. "Because you know you're not going to win with me."

I nodded, feeling the first tear fall.

"And why aren't you going to win?"

I couldn't think, except for the awful thought of being led through a room full of gawking strangers, with a collar and lead, like some needy whore. Unable to hide. I couldn't imagine something worse.