Entre

I could see her seated at my table when I entered the restaurant. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shifting nervously in her seat, dressed in what she thought were elegant clothes. Purposely, I continued speaking with the owner and tried to hide my smile each time she glanced in my direction.

When I called him to make the reservation, he had asked me to visit the kitchen when I arrived to speak with his new chef. He wanted reassurance that this chef was, as he apparently claimed, really French. "Tell him an arrogant French bitch is coming to visit," I instructed, before hanging up to consider my wardrobe for the day.

"Madam," he said eagerly as he took my coat, "I told him what you said."

"And?" I adjusted my hair in the wall mirror and allowed a hint of a smile when I saw her now openly peering at me from across the room.

"He said all French women were arrogant and bitches and, of course, we love them for it."

"Then he is French. There is no need for me to go into your smelly kitchen. Now, my guest is here?"

"Yes, she arrived early and you are later than expected so she has been waiting quite a while."

"Pardon?" I asked icily.

"No, no," he said quickly. "I didn't mean you were late, only that you had obviously been delayed by an important matter. Uncontrollable circumstances, I'm sure."

"No matter." I cut him off with a wave and walked towards my table by the window. Her eyes were wide as she watched me approach and I felt the glances from the other diners as I moved past. I had chosen a silk dress, my favourite for the colour enhanced my eyes and I loved the sound of it as I walked.

Her chair scraped loudly as she stood to greet me, one hand twisting the fingers of her other hand, her nostrils flared. "Allo little one," I smiled, taking one of those nervous hands and kissing her softly and slowly on the cheek, holding the kiss a little so she would be enveloped in my parfum.

"Madam," she croaked and I let my breath tickle her ear as I pulled back.

"What a pretty dress," I said, smiling at her and letting her hand drop. "Show me...turn around, pet." She flushed and I knew this would be the first little step, would she pirouette for me while the entire restaurant looked on?

A deep shaky breath and she spun around quickly and faced me again, her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breathing.

"That was too quick for me, little one," I admonished, playfully wagging my finger. "We must do things slowly. Now, again but let me see." Her face was crimson as she slowly spun around, the deep blue dress flaring at little at her thighs. "Beautiful," I said softly when she stood before me again and the restaurant was silent, all eyes on us. "And your hair," I said, letting my fingers brush her hair slowly over her ears, "I love it too." A little gasp escaped her as I let my fingernails graze her throat as I withdrew my hand.

The waiter pulled my chair back and I sat, a moment later she sat beside me as the low hum of conversation returned to the restaurant. As we examined our menus, she adjusted herself on her seat and I leaned close to her, letting my hand fall to her knee, just below the hem of her dress.

"Do not cross your legs," I said and her eyes blinked. "Subs do not cross their legs, little one, your knees must be slightly apart."

Her nylons rasped as she uncrossed her legs and adjusted her self again. I noticed her neck was flushed as she lowered her eyes to examine the menu.

"Put that down," I said as I examined my menu. "I will order for you, of course." Slowly she lowered the menu and I sensed her disappointment, to be in this expensive restaurant for the first time and not be permitted to even examine the menu. Unfortunate, but it is necessary to exert control from the very start. The waiter listened as I rattled off the entrees we would enjoy and we sat in silence until the wine arrived.

"You have your purse?" I asked suddenly and she nodded quickly.

"Good, put your jewellery in it. The earrings, your rings, all of it."

"Madame, why?" the words burst from her as she looked at me in shock.

"You do not wear jewellery unless it is given to you. Sometimes it will not be visible but often permanent."

"Madam, I wanted to look beautiful for you."

"Have I not made myself clear? It is not what you want but my desires that are important here. You wanted to go beyond the telephone games so do it."

Her lips formed a gorgeous pout as she removed each piece of her jewellery one by one and dropped them into her purse. Coldly, I examined her, her neck and ears bare and her wrists and fingers naked. "Much better, pet. Remember that in future. You may think this is a game," I said quietly, "but I do not play games. Is that understood?"

Her bare hands rested in her lap, her eyes were lowered and her lower lip trembled a little. "Yes, Madame," she whispered.

"You are beautiful to me, cherie," I smiled and her eyes looked at me, so wide and innocent. "Very beautiful when you are so vulnerable, no? Now," I said briskly, "I have seen your dress but what do you have on underneath?"

She leaned forward, head tilted towards me and spoke softly after a quick glance around the room. "I am wearing..." she began but I interrupted her, "I do not want a description. Show me." My words were like a hot slap and she looked at me in shock but I could see the arousal flooding through her and with it, that delicious feeling of submission.

"Lift your dress and show me before the waiter returns," I sipped some wine calmly. "The tablecloth will enable you to be discreet but do it now, girl or I will order you to stand for the whole restaurant to see your boring little underwear."

Her hands were trembling as she held the hem of her skirt and slowly peeled it up over her nylons. Her breathing was uneven and her pretty face was glowing hotly. I looked down and smiled to myself as I felt the reins of my control tighten.

"Legs apart cherie, so I can see," I said softly. "As I thought, pantyhose with panties. You Americans are lacking style, of that there is no doubt." I almost laughed out loud at the pleading look that filled her big eyes as she sat exposed, wondering if the waiter would suddenly return. "Go to the bathroom and remove the panties," I said as I swirled the red wine in my glass.

Relief swept over her face and she reached for her purse. "No," I said sharply. "No purse. Hurry." Realization hit her that she would have to carry the underwear back into the restaurant and her face went an even deeper shade of crimson. As she scrambled to her feet, I let my hand rest lightly on her wrist. "And no playing with yourself, cherie. I expect you to be very quick."

Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed when she returned, walking quickly through the tables with her white pants scrunched in her hand and looking so humiliated. Step by step I was taking her down the path she thought she wanted and wondered when she would tell me to stop. Perhaps she will not, I thought, but quickly dismissed it as most women enjoy the game but not the lifestyle.

She thrust her underwear into her purse and strained to close it, bulging with her jewellery and her panties as the waiter brought our smoked salmon entrees. I ignored her as we ate in silence, watching the traffic pass by the restaurant window until the plates were clean.

"Bathroom," I said, standing quickly, taking my handbag and walking across the floor as she scurried behind me. It was empty and I pushed open a stall, motioning her in. "Brassiere," I said, snapping my fingers. The sound was loud in the quiet room and echoed lightly on the tiles. To my surprise, she took a deep breath and unzipped her dress so she could unsnap her bra, then slid it down her sleeve and off. I retrieved my nail scissors from my handbag before slipping her brassiere into it. "Sit there and cut the crotch from your hose." This time she looked shocked and I wondered if this was the point she would deny the path and cry out for me to stop.

Sitting on the toilet she spread her legs and, hands trembling, cut the crotch from her hose, exposing her glistening pussy to me. I led her to the basin and took the nylon swatch from her fingers and wiped the lipstick from her mouth with the fragrant patch. Then I painted her lips with a bright red tone from my purse.

Turning her face so she could see herself in the mirror, I whispered in her ear, "My little slut, it suits you, no?"

Abruptly I bent her over the basin and slid my hand up her leg. "Don't shut your eyes," I snapped and her eyes watched me in the reflection. "Let us see how wet your are." I was surprised when two fingers slid into her warmth so easily with just a little gasp from her. Pulling her legs apart, I used the lipstick to paint her swollen pussy lips.

"Now," I said pulling her up, her face red with shame and arousal, "both lips have lipstick, yes?"

I tied a thin cord from my bag around her waist and folded her dress over it so it raised her hem at least three inches higher. She gasped when she looked down and her hands involuntary went to pull her dress down and I gave them a little slap. "No, it is the correct length for a slut, yes?" Trembling like a frightened rabbit, her tongue licked her lips as her wide eyes watched me. It is amazing how raising the hem of a skirt can make a woman feel vulnerable.

I am sure she felt the eyes of the restaurant on her as we collected our coats and walked to the cab. The driver was a burly woman who looked us up and down as I gave her the address when we slid into the back seat.

We drove off and I leaned close to my embarrassed sub, gently prying her legs apart as I whispered in her ear. "Imagine the conversation tomorrow at the cab depot, little slut. She will say I had this woman in the cab who had red pussy lips, such a slut. Such a wet and wanton hussy." She squirmed on seat, the flush rising up her throat as I licked her ear. "I am going to call you Muffy," I whispered and she looked at me in shock. "What is your name, pet?" I whispered my fingers playing with her hair as she sat revealed to the driver's eyes in the rear-view mirror. Surely the little sub will say no to me now, now that I have even taken her name?

"Muffy," she croaked. "My name is Muffy." Her eyes were wide and pleading, I noticed her legs were still apart and I knew I had found a true submissive. Tenderly I kissed her, my mouth softly caressing here and she groaned against my lips.

I held her hand as we walked into my apartment building and the concierge rose from his desk to greet us. "Good evening, Roger," I returned his greeting. "This is Muffy, she will be staying with me for a while."

Roger tipped his cap, a twinkle in his eyes. "Good evening Muffy. Welcome."

As the apartment door closed behind us I gestured at the closet. "You can hang our coats and your dress there." I turned around from pouring my cognac and found her naked except for the hose and heels, her nipples erect and her breathing ragged. Slipping my fingers into the waistband of her hose, her belly warm against my touch, I pulled her close and kissed her once again.

"Have you ever been this aroused, Muffy?" I asked softly and she shook her head. "No Madame," she whispered, her body trembling.

"It is a wonderful space for you in your head now, yes?" She nodded and I pushed her away. "Take those off, let me see you naked." This time, she pirouetted for me without question, her large breasts jiggling with the movement. "Beautiful," I said as she stood before me. "I do not like the hair, bebe," I gestured at her pussy. "There is a large wooden chest at the foot of my bed with photographs in silver frames on it. Inside it there is a red velvet bag, bring it to me but be careful of photographs."

She almost ran, her breasts bobbing and I smiled to myself as I took my first sip of the cognac, imagining her thoughts as she saw what else was in the chest. Casually, I took the bag from her and withdrew the leather restraints and bound her arms behind her, wrists to elbows so her breasts were pushed out.

Without a word, I left her bound and helpless and removed my make up in the bathroom and undressed, then slipped into my robe. As I slid a CD into the player, I noticed her breathing was deep. Once again, I took the red lipstick and gently coloured her rigid nipples slightly, the contact sending trembles through her. My hand cupped her sex and came away slick with traces of lipstick.

"So wet, you are such a slut. You are not to come, Muffy," I whispered and I lay back onto the sofa, cognac in my hand and my legs parted for her.

"We have had entrée, now I will enjoy the main course and if you are good, very very good, you may get a little desert, yes?" Her eyes were focused on my shaven chatte, a furtive tongue involuntarily licked her lips as she followed my finger to kneel between my thighs. "Be slow and be gentle until I tell you differently, Muffy. Be careful, I am sensitive."

I looked down and swept her blonde hair out of her eyes so she could see what she was doing and her tongue gently licked my thighs. Closing my eyes I leaned back, and as the Puccini aria began to build, her tongue started to carry me over the long foothills to the crest of my mountain.