"I think we should head into the ladies' room and get you cleaned up," she finished. "Oh, but before we do that, I want you to make your cock hard again because I need to be fucked. I got pretty excited back there in the car, when you were stroking your pathetic little cock. You know how much I love it when you suck on my fingers, wrapping your tongue around each one, the way that I have taught you to do. Your tongue is so talented, the way that it fucks my pussy and pleases my asshole. I know you long to do it now, to stick your tongue in all of my holes, don't you? You want to tongue-fuck me now, don't you, babe? You want to taste me, all of my juices, my cunt, my asshole...you want to service me, don't you?" she continued to say, softly, into his ear.
She reached down to his lap where she knew that she would find him hard again and she was right. His cock was engorged, and he was ready to please her in whatever way he could, whatever way she would allow him to pleasure her.
"I am going to head into the ladies' room and I want you to follow me in 60 seconds. When I stand up, begin counting and then walk over, very slowly, to the loo. I don't want you to try to cover your erection or your cum-stained dress, in any way, and if I find out that you have not done as I have instructed, be sure that there will be hell to pay," she warned.
Before he had a chance to plead for another way, she had excused herself and began making her way to the bathroom. He felt as if every eye in the restaurant was on him. He looked like exactly what he was - a man dressed up as a woman, a 6'3", 220 lb man dressed up as a lady. He knew that he couldn't pass as such and this made it all the more difficult to slide out of the booth and to walk to the ladies' room. His erection was obvious and he was concerned that he would get called out by the management for indecent exposure.
He felt even more immense shame at having to walk into the ladies' bathroom, as it was so obvious that he was not a woman but he did as he was told, not wanting to suffer the consequences of disobeying his Mistress.
As he walked into the bathroom, he heard the door lock behind him and she put her hands on his head, forcing him to kneel on the floor. She pressed his face into her pussy and told him to lick her until she came. He began to lap up her juices, trying very hard to please her, to make her cum but each time she came close and he could feel her body begin to quiver, she would pull his head away.
He knew how long they had been inside the loo and he was beginning to worry about the other patrons. More than once he heard a knock on the door and was surprised to her his Mistress yell out that she would be right out. "I'm coming," she would say, and then she would begin to laugh. This happened at least three times and it was hard for him to focus on his job at hand.
She walked away from his mouth, his lips, his tongue and she walked towards the sink in the bathroom. She placed her hands on the sides of the sink and she flipped her dress up around her waist. Her spread her legs wide apart and she wiggled her perfect ass towards him.
"Crawl over here, without ripping your stockings, pussyman, and suck my asshole," she said as she pulled the cheeks of her ass apart. "Make me cum and do it fast," she finished up before staring at him via the reflection in the mirror.
He quickly crawled on the hard, dirty bathroom floor over to her ass and he stuck his tongue deep inside her asshole. He knew how much she loved his tongue in her back-hole and he was eager to make her cum but even more than that, he loved the feel of his nose in her crack, the taste of her ass, the smell of it all. It was, perhaps, when and where he was happiest, serving his Mistress.
His tongue was growing sore but he would never dream of taking a break, he had learned the hard way that when she told him to do something, he best do it. Her consequences were swift and severe. He never knew what they would be, as she was by far, the most creative mistress he had ever served but she never failed to make him recall, for days afterwards, where he had failed her. He could never forget the board torture that she performed on his cock the time he had forgotten to return her phone call. He wasn't sure that his cock or his psyche would ever recover but he always called her at their appointed time after that. He could still feel the two unfinished pieces of plywood being slipped onto his cock and the screws that she used to slowly and methodically bring the two boards closer and closer and closer together. The pain was so sweet and so harsh that he couldn't help but get an erection, which only made it that much more painful. No, to this day, years later, he calls her when he is told to call her. He does whatever she instructs. He understands how difficult it is to be an excellent mistress, to put in the time and the energy, necessary, to properly train him.
It's not an easy thing to do and she has made that perfectly clear to him each time he has fallen down on the job of being her slave. She tells him, usually with a crop or a switch in hand, how hard she has to work at being the perfect mistress and with each statement, she delivers a blow to his bare ass that brings him to the verge of passing out - with pain and with pleasure. He knows how difficult he was to train, what walls had to come down and how hard he fought against her every move - "two steps forward, three steps back" she used to say to him before he could admit to himself who he was and why, before he could completely and totally turn his sorry self over to her so that she could make him a better man and the man that she needed.
His tongue was working wildly, circling, wetting, probing her beautiful asshole and her hips were reacting to his care. He asked her, politely, if he could use his hands as well and she screamed out an enthusiastic "Yes, god, just do what you have to do to make me cum!"
His hands moved around her hips and while one hand pulled her ass closer to his face, making it easier for his tongue to stay fully in her asshole, sucking and slurping as hard as he could, his other hand went inside her sopping wet pussy. He found her g-spot, that spongey area that was unmistakable in her.
He could tell by the movement of her ass that he had hit home. She reached back, wrapped her hands in his hair and forced his face farther up the crack of her ass. She was close, this much he knew, and when she stopped moving, when her hand went limp on the back of his head, he knew that response. He began to lick as fast and furiously as he could. Her juices were everywhere and he didn't need to be told to clean her up, he knew that was his job. He could rest assured that no matter who she fucked, how she came, whether by her fingers, her vibrator, his cock, his mouth or another man's cock, his job was always and always would be to clean her up.
She was trying to steady herself against the sink as he spread her ass cheeks apart and lapped up all of her juices that he could. There wasn't a taste in the world he loved as much as her juices. The taste was intoxicating and mind-altering to him. He truly could turn into a different person, the real person that he was inside, when in her presence, when serving her.
"Fuck me," she said, as he was just finishing his clean-up duties. "Fuck me now, from behind," she told him, as she readied herself with her hands, again, on the sink. He stood up, quickly, at the ready, always, and he lifted up his dress and realized how hot they both looked. Their reflections were in the mirror over the sink and their eyes met. What was said between them, at that point, without any words, was more powerful than anything they could put into words. Her love for him, her appreciation of him, her power to help him be who he truly was, all of that was evident in her eyes. His devotion to her, his true, inner desire to please her in whatever way she needed, his love and adoration for her was apparent to her when he looked at her the way he did at that moment.
He held his dress up around his hips, he worked his panty-hose down and then the panties. He looked so beautiful to her and she couldn't wait to feel his hard cock in her cunt. He smiled at her as he slowly guided his cock into her waiting, hot pussy. She enveloped him.
It was here where he felt most at home. She was his home, as much as he might want to deny it, he knew this is where he could live, forever. This was his sustenance, his love, his life-force. It was all here, between her legs, between her ears, in her soul. She knew him like no one else ever had and this was, truly, the biggest turn on imaginable. Nothing, nothing could compare to this piece of heaven in his hands, right now.
After his cock was where it should be, in that place that made him happiest, where it belonged, his hands grabbing her hips, exactly as she had trained him to do, he began to slide himself in and out of her, slowly at first and then building up the speed, as he recognized her movements. He knew her body so well, he knew each quiver, each breath, what each sound meant. Her body always spoke to him - either through her gifts and kindnesses or through her punishments, which he knew, in his heart, were her gifts to him as well.
His hand went to her mouth where she sucked on his thumb, wetting it, lubricating it. He knew just what to do and his thumb pushed its way into her asshole. This always made her a little crazy. Her hips were pushing back against his cock, grinding, humping, mad with desire. The farther his thumb made it up her ass, the deeper she wanted his cock in her cunt.
Again, her body froze up and then her whole body began to shake. He knew her orgasms by heart, and she would next begin to ooze her juices down her legs, combined with his cum, if she allowed him to meet to let go but he didn't dare without her okay.
He was so close, he wasn't sure he could hold back but he did. Her face fell against the mirror and she told him to pull out and start cleaning her up, again. And he hit his knees in grateful servitude.
After he had licked and sucked all of her juices, again, he stood up, looked into the mirror and saw that his face, his lipstick, his hair, it was all a mess. But not his Mistress, she looked fresh, relaxed, put together. She smoothed out her dress, pushed her hair behind her ears, and put her hand on the doorknob.
"Come out when you get yourself back together," she smiled at him, grabbing his still-hard cock and kissing him. "You really are a mess, babe, see what you can do before you come back to the table."
