As with all my reports, the following is true.
I had been feeling in quite a mood for some time. None of my "normal" kinks were really giving me what I needed. I happened to communicate that to one of my online friends - my favorite actually, who has given me such good orders in the past. He requires written "proof" of my completion of the tasks, and it's the carrying out of his orders that I have reported on previously.
I was given a task to complete (then write about) which, as soon as I read it, made me tingle and beg for an orgasm (which I wasn't allowed). He always starts me off with orgasm denial for at least a day or two prior to any tasks, because he knows it just makes me bolder and more willing to do wild things! This particular time, which happened several weeks ago now, had me holding off from orgasm for three days prior to finding out what the task was, then having to hold off until I found time to complete it which was another two days. I was, in that time, encouraged to fantasize and even play with myself as much as possible, but never letting myself go. So for those several days I had my hands in my panties almost all the time. So much so that the last day I could hardly stop touching myself (which is tough in an office! But not difficult in the women's room!).
I took off early on a Thursday afternoon, having asked on Tuesday (when I got my orders) to leave early to take my car in (so I said). I quickly drove across town to a national restaurant chain that is open 24 hours a day. In the somewhat busy parking lot, I took off my work clothes - all of them. Sitting naked in the front seat of my car, I put on a pair of high heels - black, with a kinky buckly strap. Next I reached back and pulled the summer sun dress off hanger on the strap by the door of the backseat, showing off to anyone around (no one that I could see, unfortunately). My heart was already pounding... not from doing this, though I was enjoying it. I've done a lot of stripping in the car and it's honestly not that exciting anymore. My heart was pounding because I was about to do one of the most humiliating things I've ever done!
I slipped the thin dress on, knowing that while it wasn't see-through, there really wouldn't be any doubt that I wasn't wearing a bra or panties to anyone that was paying any attention.
Then to make it worse (or better, depending on how you look at it), I pulled down the top, clipped a clothes pin vertically to my left nipple, took the elastic that I had attached to it up and behind my neck, then down, clipping the clothes pin on the other end to my right nipple. I had measured the elastic and made it snug enough to pull my nipples and breasts up. I had tried it out at home the night before and made the elastic short enough to really pull the nipple. This dress wasn't see-through enough to see the clothespins, but my nipples were pretty obvious, and it was obvious that I had something under the dress that was attached to my nipples, and the elastic was as plain as day. I couldn't believe I was going inside someplace public like this.
The final step - blood red lipstick. I knew from my preparations the previous night that I looked okay, but definitely slutty. Not like a prostitute, just like a kinky, easy slut. Really it was the lipstick and the high black heels, because neither went with the simple knee-length summer sun dress.
I grabbed my bag and in I marched, getting two honks from cars going by on the street. Did I really look THAT slutty? I guess I did.
The older lady at the cash register gave me the once over, not approving, but led me to a booth by the window. The busboy cleaning the table nearby nearly dropped his plastic bin when he saw me. Part of me was loving it, but part of me doesn't like to be *this* obvious about my kinky side in such public places, especially one where police officers routinely take their breaks.
But it was after lunch and before dinner, so I hoped I was safe. The waiter loved how I looked and tried to chat me up, but I was too embarrassed to say much. I ordered a soda and a slice of pie, quickly went through both, and left plenty of money for the bill and tip.
Walking out was when the main event started. I headed for the bathrooms, my nipples pulled up, my pussy sopping wet (did I have a wet spot from sitting on my dress?) my high heels making each step a little sex dance, and at the last second went into the men's room instead. (I had been given leeway to use one or the other, but had been encouraged to at least try the men's room and see what it looked like).
Inside, there were two urinals and two stalls. I chose the last one, which was a large handicap accessible one, and went in, closing the door behind me. Because it was so large, I decided to carry through in the men's room, instead of the safer women's room.
Now the moment of truth. I pulled off my dress, standing, once again, naked in another men's room, this one probably much more active than some of the others I've been in. From my bag (not a purse, really, more like a cloth shopping bag) I pulled out another pair of clothes pins with elastic, a thick, long, unpeeled carrot, and a thick, long, unpeeled cucumber.