Close 3

Gypsy read the note with a small frown.

To my pet:

The masturbation response missed the target, it is not an "or" thing, it is an "and". Just part of the complete offering I expect. Too bad it would make you shy, but then what is a master good for if not to stretch your bounds? It's quite possible I will want a command performance in a public place, say, dinner.

Master

.......................

Some days later . . .

I (Master) lean to Gypsy's ear as he sits beside her, and whisper my want. She is immediately red in the face and neck. There are people all around at the restaurant tables! I am not to be put off, I am not just talking to hear myself! “Do what I tell you, and do it now!”

Gypsy slides the skirt up her thighs, glancing around to see if any one is looking. The rest of the patrons are engrossed in their meals and companions. “No, Gypsy, higher, clear to your waist.”

She pleads, but this is not a negotiation, it is a command performance. She complies. The folds of the skirt are such that only people directly in front of her can see. She wears no panties, as my desires demand this. Her legs, close together, are tightly held as if by steel bands. My hand slips barely between them and just touches the top of her sex. NO, this will not do!

“Open those legs so I may reach clear down!”

“Please, Master, please no.”

“Do you challenge my authority? Are you wanting to go off on your own, if so, then go now and bother me no more. Otherwise do as you are told.”

She remembers the time once before when she refused the request in this very restaurant. As always, I weighed her decline, but I had made up my mind that she would submit. She had still refused, without a word, I rose and she thought I had gone to the bathroom. But I had not. After 20 minutes she asked a waiter to check, but he returned saying that her date had paid the bill and departed long ago. She had rushed back to the hotel, but I had checked out. The airport, but I'd gone on the first plane leaving. It was not flying back to my home, but I had taken it anyway.

This, she remembered. Her knees open, an inch, two. I reach over from her side and pull her knee toward me, forcing her legs apart further. Now she is exposed to the couple across the floor, but they do not yet notice. My hand slides easily and lightly further down, cupping her cunny in my palm. Despite her protestations, she is sopping wet already. So much so that it soaks across my hand immediately. The mind may say this, or that, but the cunny never lies.

I slip my two fingers just inside the folds of her lips and begin dragging them upward to her clit. She breathes in small gasps. “Sit still and do not move,” I tell her.

Again I slide downward to her opening, but this time I enter just a little. Her legs tense, I feel them against the sides of my hand. I look into her eyes, and she relaxes them. I make the glorious trip to and from time after time. She is getting close. I lean to her ear and tell her to look across the table, and she sees the other couple starring. The man is trying to look from the corner of his eye, but the woman is wide-eyed and mouth agape.

“Gypsy, they have been watching us for some time,” this I whisper to her as my tongue teases the inside of her ear.

Gypsy turns even redder, but I know it excites her to know they are enthralled with her sexual heat. “Now, Gypsy, you must help me,” I say. She looks at me, her eyes partly closed with the feelings of my wet fingers tracing small circles around her inside lips. “Put your hand down there and open the lips completely so that your clit hood is stretched tightly and forces the little pearl out of its coverlet.”

She obeys and I move just the tip of one finger to the excited center of her. I begin to quickly flick the tip back and forth over her. Again, again. She is right on the verge. She has stopped breathing, her stomach is tense, her thighs fairly quiver with need.

“Open your eyes and look at them,” I command.

They also are caught up in her impending orgasm. She can see it in the way the man stares and the woman is unconsciously squeezing her own nipples and tightly crossing her legs. The three of them await my ministrations. It is time to give my wonderful slave her payment. Faster, faster my finger tip quivers. Her hips strain forward to the pressure seemingly of their own volition. And then it begins, she sucks in a deep breath, her face goes rigid, her hands fist and shake on the tablecloth, her feet lift slightly from the floor as her body arches forward in the rigor of orgasm. The man and his lady are mesmerized, tense, praying for her, and their, release.

“OOoooohhhh.” escapes her lips. “UUUuuuunggg,” she grasps the tablecloth in her hands and wrinkles it inside a fist uncontrollably trying to keep contact with the Earth. Her hips hunch into my fingers as if it were my cock and she was fucking me now. “AAaaaaaahhhhhhhh.” And she comes down. I stop the frenetic sensations, and slow to smooth stroking. Each time her clit is touched, a shudder comes.

“Look at them,” I say again.

Her tightly closed eyes open and they are both red in the face, not from shame but from the blood-pumping intensity of her orgasm. We finish our wine, pay the bill, and leave. On the way past, I pause by the couple, and point out that the ambiance of this restaurant is simply uniquely unbelievable. They are to embarrassed to reply. Gypsy only smiles.