Approval

She stands in the street in the rain. She is stock still outside the coffee shop watching him through the window. How long has he been in there now? Fifteen minutes? Time seems to be crawling for her but, judging from how long that coffee has lasted, it's probably about that. This wasn't how today was supposed to be. They were supposed to be together today all day. She has always loved their couple days when they never leave each other's side. But today it was different. Today, as they were strolling pleasantly along the high street, he turned to her and said 'Wait here.' And she knew not to move. Even as he walked away and entered the café she knew not to move. It wasn't even an option in her mind. She has always understood the tone and the look that means that his words are not optional.

And so she waits here smothered by the sky's grey blanket. She can feel her hair flattened by the rain against her face. The water using the matted streaks as channels to run freezing rivulets over her skin. She is petrified of looking down; she can feel how her dress is clinging to her curves and knows that she must be showing every inch of her shape to people walking past. She asks herself why she didn't wear a coat and even as she does she remembers that she wanted to and he wouldn't let her. He told her they'd be indoors and she didn't need one. He also said she wouldn't need underwear. It's all so obvious when she thinks about it but she thought he was being playful. She should have guessed that he had humiliation on his mind. But would it have made any difference if she had guessed? Would she have objected? Of course she wouldn't have. There is nothing binding her now. The only binds are her devotion to him and her need to please him. That and her need to be used. And those are tougher binds than any rope could offer. She is a good girl and she will obey.

So she stands there with the cold rain penetrating every part of her. She knows how hard her nipples are and how they must be so obvious to everyone. She has caught the eye of a couple of passing men, seen the leer in their faces as they follow the lines of her drenched dress. It is a useless covering now, clinging along her delicious curves. She has watched their eyes drop along her body to her crotch where the material has bunched and pulled tight against her inner thighs. She knows it is defining her hips and cunt as if it were nothing more than a layer of paint.

What do they think of her, these passers-by? What do they think of this pathetic display of obedience? She knows she can never be normal like everyone else on this street. She will always need this. She needs to be controlled like this. To have every question removed from her head and be able to do exactly what she has been told.

She watches on. Watches him through the window as he finishes his newspaper and drains the last of his coffee. But then it happens, he looks up and catches her eye and he smiles. And through the bitter chill of the rain and the crushing humility of her public display she is warm. She is warm because she is glowing. Glowing because she knows that he approves of her. That is all she needs.