Fiona faced an evening of one of her least favorite obligations as Pam's slave - dinner out. When she and Pam were alone, she could easily lose herself and become Pam's sub, completely subjugating her own person to the desires and whims of her Mistress. Even with Pam's friends, who were mostly in the lifestyle, Fiona felt comfortable in her subservience. However, when they were out in what she considered the "real world," her position was harder to embrace perhaps because most people who saw them together assumed they were a lesbian couple. This embarrassed Fiona.
For these dinners, Pam dressed as she always did: Dockers or Wranglers, a button-front shirt with a collar, and cowboy boots. Occasionally she sported a tie, her blond hair always pulled back into a swinging ponytail. And Fiona dressed as she always did: short skirt or dress, tight, skimpy tops to show off her huge tits and high stiletto heels to keep her mincing behind Pam. They always frequented fashionable, upscale restaurants. Pam enjoyed a good meal.
This evening, they dressed their parts. Fiona squeezed into a tiny black skirt with a tight, plunging halter top encasing and showcasing her tits. Her nipple rings were clearly visible through the thin material. Before they left, Pam looked her over with approval and ordered, "Spread your legs."
Fiona complied, and Pam reached forward, pushed up Fiona's skirt, and attached a vibrating clip to her clit. Grinning, Pam slipped the remote to the device into her breast pocket. Fiona knew she was in for some fun and games, and shivered at the prospect.
Pam parked her own car behind the restaurant, and as they walked to the entrance, Pam gave Fiona's clit a little buzz. Pleasure shot through Fiona, as she clamped her legs together. She hoped her Mistress would be generous tonight.
Pam made reservations, so they were seated immediately. Heads turned as the women walked toward their booth, as always, Fiona a few steps behind her Mistress, her high heels thrusting out her tits and ass, and everything jiggling along. Fiona slid into the booth opposite Pam and got into the correct position. This entailed hiking up her skirt so that her bare ass met the cool leather seat, and spreading her legs out. If anyone cared to peer under the table, they'd be rewarded with an eyeful of Fiona's shaved, glistening pussy.
Their waitress approached the table, wrinkling her nose at the two lesbians. She eyed the woman with the gigantic tits, whose nipples seemed to be practically poking through her top. "Would you care for something to drink?"
Pam, perusing the wine list, looked up. "Yes, we'd like a bottle of this cab."
The waitress was soon replaced by a bus boy who almost poured water all over their table when confronted by Fiona's massive cleavage.
Pam knew the look well, and whispered, "You play your cards right, and I'll give you a peek."
He stammered something incoherent as he stumbled away from the table.
The waitress returned with the wine, and Pam sniffed the cork, smelled the bouquet, and took a little taste before approving. The waitress filled the two glasses and asked, "Would you like to order now?"
Pam spoke up, "I'll have the crab cakes to start, followed by the tomato with Buffalo mozzarella. Then I'd like the prime rib, rare, with the garlic mashed potatoes."
The waitress glanced at Fiona, but Pam answered for her. "She'll have the small dinner salad with vinaigrette. You can bring that at the same time as my entrΓ©e."
The waitress looked back at the woman with the big tits, her eyes lowered to her empty plate. She shrugged. What a strange couple.
Fiona wasn't surprised at Pam's order. Pam limited her food intake, keeping her slim and her waist tiny. This only emphasized her tits, which is the way Pam liked it.
The bus boy attentively saw to their needs with a hopeful look on his face. Pam finally took pity on him. "Do you want to see her jewelry?"
The young man nodded vigorously, and Pam flicked her fingers at Fiona, who pulled aside her skimpy halter to reveal one huge milky white tit with her rosy nipple pierced with a big gold ring. The bus boy gawked and swallowed hard.
Pam leaned in. "Another thing - I've got her wired for pleasure." She pulled out the remote and pressed it slowly. The bus boy watched as the big-titted woman gasped and squirmed in her seat. Pam told him, "You keep coming back to watch her get more and more excited."
So the bus boy found any excuse he could to return to the table. Each time he came back, the blonde turned up the power, and the redhead began bouncing in her seat, taking those marvelous tits along for the ride.
He couldn't keep it to himself any longer. He ran off to find his buddy working in another section and brought him back to the table. Together they stood guard at the table and watched the redhead withdraw her tit from her top and start humping the seat.
The waitress approached the table, wondering why two bus boys were parked in front of it. As she drew close, she saw the redhead with one hand grasping her big tit, her fingers pinching her extended, pierced nipple, her head thrown back, lips parted. She slammed the crème brulee on the table and hissed, "What is going on here?"
Three pairs of eyes turned toward her. The redhead was oblivious. She was now grinding into the seat and moaning, obviously cumming. The waitress snapped at the bus boys, "You two get back to work. I'm getting the manager."
She had a difficult time explaining to the manager what was going on, so she led him back to the table. The woman was finished with her orgasm, her breast back in place. By this time, the table had attracted the attention of much of the restaurant, a few of the patrons even catching sight of an exposed breast.
The manager barked, "You two...ladies are creating a disturbance. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Pam looked at him coldly. "This is discrimination. Miss Tits-a-lot can't help it if she's over-sexed and had an orgasm in your restaurant."
The waitress gasped, and the manager spluttered, "Get out before I call the police."
Pam grabbed her bag and jumped up. "You haven't heard the end of this."
Fiona slid out of the booth, yanking her skirt down, leaving a big wet spot on the seat behind her. Pam stalked out of the restaurant with Fiona in tow. All eyes were on them now, wondering what they'd done to get ejected from the restaurant. Right before the entrance, Pam dropped her wallet. She turned to Fiona with a hard stare and said, "Pick it up and do it right."
Fiona felt a slow flush creeping over her body as she realized what was required of her, but she couldn't refuse Pam now and she didn't want to. So she spread out her legs and bent over at the waist to retrieve the wallet. Her short skirt hiked up as she mooned the entire restaurant with her ass cheeks spread wide. There were gasps of shock and shouts of laughter. The manager rushed forward, incensed at the display in his restaurant, and gave Fiona a push forward. Since she was so top heavy, she toppled over and fell to her knees, her skirt still hiked up. The manager aimed the toe of his shoe at her bare ass, sticking it in her crack, and began prodding her out of the restaurant. By this time, Fiona's tits escaped from her halter top and were almost grazing the floor. Thus was Miss Tits-a-lot unceremoniously kicked out of the restaurant, amid the jeers and cheers of the other diners.
Pam was waiting for her on the sidewalk, laughing. "You made quite a scene in there, Miss Tits-a-lot. Now get up."
As Fiona stood up, Pam smacked her hard across the face. Fiona blurted out, "What did I do?" That impertinence earned her a sharp slap on the side of her breast.
Pam snarled, "Don't talk back to me. We won't be able to go back there, and I like their crab cakes." She grabbed Fiona's bag and dropped the remote inside. She checked Fiona's wallet to make sure she wasn't carrying any money, and then she strode down the street.
Fiona called out, "Where are you going? How will I get home?"
Pam ignored her, and Fiona trotted after her for a few steps, her tits and ass jiggling, but her high heels made it impossible for her to catch up with Pam. She sighed and resigned herself to walking home, or perhaps hitching a ride. She traipsed down the street, sticking her thumb out. She elicited lots of catcalls and whistles, but nobody pulled over until a black and white cruised up to the curb.
A lone cop whisked down the window on the passenger side, leaned forward and yelled, "You working the street here?"