This can be read as a standalone, but I would recommend reading Part 1 first x
*****
Dinner was a tense affair. For me anyway. I was equally exhausted as I was on fire. Every breath sent my chest rising and falling, my nipples rubbing against the soft fabric of my blouse through my lacey bra, and although the fabric was light my sore nipples could barely handle the continued rubbing. Under the table my thighs were trembling slightly, my tight jeans pressing up against my clit, a constant pressure that reminded me of everything that had happened that afternoon. Your hand was a steady weight on my knee, your fingers massaging my leg at intervals, feeling the trembles run up and down my body. Your friend sat opposite me. His gaze heavy, I could rarely bring my eyes up to meet his, as I sat in the corner of the booth, trapped my both of you.
I hadn't noticed the waiter appear at our table until he called for our orders. I look up startled. The menu lay open in my hands, but I hadn't been able to make sense of the words floating in front of my eyes.
"Uh.." I stammer.
Before I have a chance to pick something at random, I hear you order for me, before plucking the menu from my hands. Your friend smiled knowingly. To outsiders it would look like a romantic gesture...a guy knowing his girl's favourite dish on the menu. But I knew the real reason. It was just another way you controlled me this evening, choosing my drink, food, and the film we were to see later. Taking all opportunity to think for myself away from me. A fucktoy doesn't need to think. She needs to sit, do as she's told and wait until she's needed again.
The two of you chat and laugh the evening away. For the most part I'm just trying to keep up with the words, but after a while your delicate touches on my neck, tucking my hair away from my face and your arm around my shoulder encourages me to join in. Soon we are all laughing and joking as our food arrives. Your pick for me was perfect, of course. And as I take my first bite I realise how ravenous I am, my body utterly spent.
When the waiter finally clears the plates, we sit in a comfortable silence for a while until you reach in and pull something from your pocket. Right in the centre of the table, a stark contrast to the dark wood, you place a bright pink vibrating egg. I know immediately what it is, having had fun with it and you many times before. My eyes widen as a table of people walk by, their eyes naturally scanning our group. My hand shoots out like lightening to grab the item from the table. My cheeks reddening at the thought that any of them had seen it.
You chuckle at my clear distress and lean in slightly. "You look beautiful tonight," you said as you cup my cheek in your hand, "as always, but," you glance down at the object held tight in my fist.
"But," Your friend cuts in. "We think your outfit is missing something."
"Go and put it in for us baby," you say gently.
"Now?!" I barely manage to keep my voice from squealing.
Your hand moves to grip the back of my neck, your fingers curling tighter. "Now." Your tone brokers no room for discussion.
I look down at the offending item in my hand. My clit twitches at the thought of new vibrations, but my body floods with uncertainty. I don't think I could handle any more. My cunt, still moist and sticky with the mix of my juices and your cum, aches. But the longer I stare at the little pink egg, the more those aches of tiredness ripple into aches of want.
You slide from the booth and stand, offering your hand to help me up. I slide out too, keeping my fist tight against my thigh to hide the brightly coloured object held there. As I step away your hand connects sharply with my ass, taking a handful of jeans covered flesh and squeezing. My eyes scan the room and I notice a few people look up at the sound that resonates above the level of conversation. My cheeks flush pink again, as with another slap, you send me towards the Ladies room.
As I weave between tables I can feel your and your friend's eyes on me, and as my hair swishes across my back with every stride I can only imagine the scent of sex I am leaving in my wake, the strings of dried cum across my body pulling slightly with each step. I hurry to the safety of the bathroom, locking myself in the last stall. With shaking hands I undo the button of my jeans and lower the zip before sliding them down over my hips and ass. I run my fingers along my folds, feeling the wetness that has begun to return. I jump as my hand accidentally brushes across my oversensitive clit. Catching my breath I push one, then another, finger inside me, readying myself, before replacing my fingers with the little pink egg. I feel my body stretch around it, it offering a gently pressure inside me. I wiggle my hips to get used to the feeling as I know it won't be going anywhere for at least the next few hours.