All relationships hit a lull. It's not a good thing or bad thing, necessarily; it just is. We're busy people and the last month has found us with not as much time for much of anything. And that lack of time and attention has taken its toll on seemingly every part of the relationship. We haven't been talking as much, not doing as much together, and our erotic life has just gotten to be a bit stale. You haven't been as enthusiastic about your submissive role and neither of us has seemed to have much of a sex drive, at least at the same time. You smiled at the mention of a third ruler, but seemed almost ambivalent about it.
One of the things we talked about doing to add a little variety was heading out for a "date night", where we meet each other after work as if we're strangers, picking each other up, that sort of thing. We had also talked about the different ways it could work, in particular because meeting as "strangers" only to pick each other up seemed a little too simple. Lately this had become one of your favorite fantasies, if for no other reason than you seemed to enjoy coming up with a different variation every time. Our playing had been a little vanilla lately due to energy levels and busy schedules, but we made a point of locking in Friday night to try this out. We decided that the scenario could go a myriad of places, but we both chose not to put limits on anything, save your safeword.
You get off work earlier than I do, so you headed home first to change and head out. I could see the work clothes sprawled across the bed and my anticipation was heightened, wondering what you would wear. I also noticed your car was in the driveway, meaning you took a cab to our destination.
I slipped into jeans, my favorite black-button down shirt and black sport coat and headed out to a bar on the other side of town where we didn't really know anyone except the bartender (an old acquaintance of mine). It was still early in the evening, toward the end of happy hour when I got there. However, you were already busy being chatted up by a couple of guys. I could see why; you were wearing one of my favorite outfits of yours, the black pleated skirt, thigh-highs, crisp white blouse unbuttoned to show more than a hint of cleavage. Knowing you, I doubted you were wearing any underwear either.
Joe (the bartender) knows us; when he sees me head to a corner booth, he comes over.
"Something special up tonight? Your girl acted like she didn't know me, although she winked at the same time. You two playin' a game?"
I grinned. "Something like that. You know the games couples play sometimes, don't you?"
He just chuckled. "Uh-huh. Just don't leave any messes anywhere in here, OK? I have to mop up the place tonight."
I just gave him a look through heavily lidded eyes for a moment, then we both laughed. "Sure. Have a waitress bring me a vodka tonic, would you?"
Joe left me in the corner booth and I scanned the place. It was a nice yuppie-ish bar, but we had only been here once, when Joe first started working here a few months ago. More upscale than the typical local dive, its patronage is mainly the younger professional crowd who work on this side of town. The place is surprisingly quiet, although it's early in the evening. A pair of young couples who appear to be on dates are in different booths across way and what appear to be a group of co-workers are throwing darts at the other end of the bar. But you're clearly the center of attention, now with a group of four guys around you.
Although I agreed to this game, you know this is the part I'm the most uncomfortable with. I've never been one to pick up a woman in a bar casually. It's just not my style. When the waitress comes over with my vodka tonic, I ask her to give you another drink of whatever it is you're currently drinking. When you get the drink and Joe points out who it's from, you just dump it into an empty glass on the bar, laughing, and amusing your companions to no end.
I hate humiliation, even more so in public. And what infuriates me so much is that tonight was _your_ idea and you had been so innocent about it at home, saying it wouldn't be a big deal. Joe gives me a weird look and I just shrug, unsure of what's going on at this point. All I can tell is that you're enjoying the "incidental" contact all of the guys around you keep making.
In the middle of my fuming, the waitress comes back with another vodka tonic for me. "Rough night?" she asks as she cocks her head toward you.
"Hrm? Oh, that?" I shrug. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Well...I get a break here in a minute." She smiles softly, with a slight gleam in her eyes. "Wanna chat for a bit?"
I look at her, puzzled. Then I look toward the bar, see you getting your tits "accidentally" bumped into (again), and see Joe giving me a not-so-innocent look and smirking.
Finally, I figure out what's going on and say, "Sure." I give the best winning smile I can and the waitress slides away for a minute before coming back. She's really a treasure. Short with neatly trimmed hair, petite, and breasts that couldn't be more than a B cup at best, even with the push-up bra. The skirt she was wearing (if you could call it that) wasn't much thicker than a belt and barely covered her ass.
She dropped off her tray and slid into the booth right next to me. "I'm Julie," she whispered while her fingers trailed up my arm. "I don't think it's fair that your friend over there gets to have all the fun tonight while you're stuck over here." Her hand moves from my arm to my leg, underneath the table. "What do you think?" Julie just traces her fingers over the top of my thigh.
I glance in your direction and the look on your face changes, if only for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, you're not so amused when you think she's giving me a handjob under the table. Our eyes lock briefly, then you ask the guys around you if they want to do body shots. I remove Julie's hand, whispering thanks, and head over to pick you up. I've let the last guy do a shot off your cleavage, but before I get the chance to say anything to you, you just wave me off.
"Fuck off. Didn't you get the hint with the drink earlier?"
After being blown off the second time, I was furious and headed back to my seat in the corner booth, seething. I was only seated for a few moments before I saw one of the guys put his hand on your thigh, creeping it up your skirt. I could also see your hand trailing up his, feeling his growing erection on the outside of his pants and giggling.
That was it. I got up, grabbed you by the wrist and practically dragged you out of the bar. The guy you felt up started to protest; with my free hand, I grabbed his neck and slammed his head to the bar. "She's mine. Do you understand?" The guy nodded weakly, a little woozy. I released his neck and continued to pull you out to the parking lot. My breathing was ragged at this point, because I was afraid that either some other bar patron would chase after us (a fight really wasn't what I needed) or worse yet, call the cops. I looked back at Joe with an indication that I was in control of things and I could hear him calming people down in the background as we left.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing?" I was still dragging you along, not looking back, but hearing you stumble slightly every few steps. You didn't say a word, but I heard you giggle. "Well?"
After a few moments, you just mocked my question, saying, "Well?" in a shrill, irritating voice that I hate. I had to park at the back of the parking lot due to it being full earlier, but the lot was nearly vacant now. I swung you around, practically slamming your backside into the car so that you're facing me.
"What the fuck is your problem tonight?"
"We're strangers, remember? I can't help it that you couldn't pick up a ten dollar hooker with those sad excuses for lines."
I stare at you incredulously, not able to tell at this point if you're just playing your part that well or whether the drinks you've had have loosened your tongue and how you really feel.
"OK, little girl. I'm tired of your bullshit and I'm tired of your games. We're heading home."
You start to head back to the bar. "Fuck that. I came out to get laid tonight. If you're not up to it, I'm sure one of those guys back in the bar can handle me."
Grabbing your arm, I wheel you around and slap your face with my open hand. We both stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, but couldn't be more than a few seconds. We've never done this in public and I think we're both shocked by the instinctual, primal reaction.
"You want to act like a common whore?"
Suddenly, the look in your eyes changes as quickly as my tone has. You've been trying to one-up me all evening, keeping control by showing how sexy you are and showing how so many guys want you. This is different.
"What? Come on, this was part of the game." The confidence you had, so full in your voice less than a minute ago, is almost completely gone. You can tell my patience has reached its limit and there's almost a twinge of fear in your mannerisms.
I can't say anything at this point. Instead, I throw you up against the car, face and tits pressed against the cool glass on the door. My hands slip up your shirt and unhook your strapless bra with ease.
"Hey! This wasn't part of the..."
I ignore you and flip you around so that you're facing me, kiss you roughly, then flip you back around so that you're pressed against the car, facing it again. You can feel the hem of your skirt raised over your hips, your bare ass visible to anyone who might walk by. Your breathing becomes fast and heavy, voice slightly higher in pitch as the cool night air washes over your lower body.
"Look, this was supposed to be a date night where you picked me up. I just didn't want it to be too easy for you."
The only response you get is four smacks against your ass with my hand, leading to you wince.
"Do you want to act like a whore? Feeling up strange guys in bars, letting your tits get mauled in public?" Four more smacks and I hear a small whimper. My voice is just a menacing whisper by your ear. "Come on!" *smack* "Answer me!"
The crack of my hand on your ass rings through the parking lot again. "You were awfully chatty inside. What's the problem now?" You feel me grab you and flip you around again so you're facing me. "Well, if you're not going to talk, I need to keep your mouth busy somehow, don't I?"
Without waiting for a response, I grab your hair with one hand, a shoulder with the other and push you to your knees. "Want to feel cock tonight? Why just over the outside of the pants? Unbutton my jeans."
