When Diane pressed the second glass to her lips, I noticed the tiniest hesitation. I reached out my hand and touched the surface of the glass. It felt slightly cool. I told her to set it back down and motioned for the waitress.
She picked up her pad and pencil and came to our table. I watched her face as she approached. She was trying to maintain a polite, cheerful disposition but was clearly suspicious about what was going on between Diane and me. There was a mixture of curiously and confusion in her eyes, which made sense to me. She knew *something* was happening but she wasn't quite sure what.
"I wonder if you could bring a fresh glass of water."
She leaned forward slightly to look at the glass. "Is something wrong?"
"I don't mean to be any trouble, it just isn't exactly what I wanted. I had asked for it with no ice, which you handled fine. But what I really meant was that I wanted lukewarm water, just about room temperature."
"I'm sorry. No problem, I will get that right back to you," she said, picking the glass up from the table.
"It's very important," I continued. "It passed through the system faster. At least, that's what I've heard." I turned to Diane. "Diane, is that true?"
She didn't answer. The waitress turned to walk away but I raised my hand. "No, hold on a second." I turned back to Diane and asked again. "Diane, is that true? Does the water go through your system faster if it's lukewarm?"
Without turning her head or raising her eyes, she very softly said, "yes".
"Thank you," I said, then turned to the waitress. "Two more glasses please. Lukewarm."
The girl walked away quickly and quietly.
"Diane," I asked across the table. "Diane, look at me. I don't much care for this 'lower your eyes' stuff." She looked up and met my gaze. "Do you know why I do this to you?" She didn't answer.
"You know that I've been keeping up with your antics these last several months. You're becoming quite the man toy. You take a lot of pain and abuse, in fact, you revel in it. A lot of things have been done to you that would make other women cringe. You have no problem giving your mouth or any other part of your body to complete strangers, that is, as long as you're being commanded to."
She didn't answer, but I knew that my words were having the desired effect - she was starting to get aroused. I could see the flush at the base of her neck and her nipples getting stiff.
"But, these things are of no real use to me. What I want is to get at the core of what makes you do it. And we both know it, don't we? We've known each other a long time, well before you moved into this world." It was true, she'd flirted with these ideas for years in chat rooms, emails, and written fantasies long before she ever took the first step toward meeting with the man in Madison.
"And we both know what underlies it. The pain, the sex, the abuse, those are only the surface level behaviors, the manifestations of your deeper, more twisted drives. Underneath it all is obedience. Giving your will over to another person. And underneath that - bedrock to your psychology - is the need to be humiliated."
Diane didn't offer any response. I didn't expect any.
"That is one of the two things I have going for me, isn't it? That I know what you really want. The other..." I took the RC unit from my pocket and rested it on the table between us. "Is that you don't know what I am going to do next. The random element in my behavior.
"With the others, you pretty much know you will be blindfolded, tied, feet kept apart with bars, nipples tortured. But I like to keep coming at you out of left field. Things you don't expect, things you can't be prepared for."
I pushed the RC closer to her hand. "Go ahead. Pick it up."
She didn't move.
"Pick it up." A pause. Then, "I command you."
She did.
"Good. You see how simple that is? Now, turn it on and cum for me. I want you to cum exactly at the point the waitress is putting the second glass on the table."
Diane's eyes glazed over as she felt the vibrator begin humming between her legs. She turned her head slightly and saw that the waitress was at another table, taking an order. She turned her eyes back to look at me. I smiled. She smiled back, we were enjoying the same game, playing the same moves.
She fingered the dial, moving it from 5 to 7. "Keep it on the table and visible," I said, watching her jaw start to shiver. She was taking quicker breaths now as the vibrator did its job. She shifted her eyes and saw that the waitress was picking up the glasses the bartender had put on the counter. They were leaning close and talking quietly. The bartender turned his head and stared at Diane. The waitress said something sharp and the man turned his glance away, but Diane knew they'd been talking about her. She took a deep, sharp breath.
"They know, don't they?" I said across the table. She closed her eyes halfway, but quickly opened them again. She would need to know when the waitress was bringing their order.
"They don't know exactly. Should we tell them?" A look of panic came across her face. "Just in case they haven't guessed? Should I have you walk over to the bartender and tell him?"
Diane's body rocked slightly forward and back as she listened to me. The waitress came to the table, stood still for a moment. "Would you like to see if this is what you wanted?" she asked. She picked up the first glass and placed it in front of me. I noticed that she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Diane and her eyes had changed. They were taunting, defiant. Maybe she *had* guessed.
