Every day, weather permitting, for a year gone now, we have picnicked in the park together. We meet there at the gate at precisely noon - I, with picnic basket in hand and he, with our blanket folded over his shoulder. He greets me with a seemly kiss followed by inquiries into my morning's activities as we link arms to stroll the public walkway which meanders through the large park's picturesque grounds.
Not far along, the walkway forks. It is here that we veer to the left, leaving the open spaces dotted by oak, birch and cherry for a little-traveled lane that winds off between the tall hedgerows. The twisted path beckons as the hedge shadows draw close. We smile into each other's eyes, fancying the secret hidden beyond the over-crossed boughs at the lane's end is ours alone, for the secluded garden within the park is ever deserted on our arrival.
Deserted, that is, until the day we turned at the hedge's end, to find we were not the sun-drenched lawn's sole tenants. There was a stranger sitting cross-legged in our private haven, reading a newspaper while eating his lunch on the stone bench in the honeysuckle's shade. He was youngish, well dressed in a dark business suit similar to the one Master wore. When he glanced up, he smiled at us from an open, honest face. We smiled back but exchanged no words, only spread our blanket some yards away in the pool of sunlight slanting warm upon the grass.
I was naked beneath the light cotton sundress Master had chosen for me early that morning, for that is how he prefers me. Accessible. I took care to preserve my modesty before our unexpected company, tucking my flared skirt beneath me as I sat. Sighing at the sun's kiss against my bare legs, I reached inside our picnic basket and spread our lunch upon the blanket. We ate, keeping our conversation low. From time to time, I caught the stranger glancing at us over his newspaper's top edge. Master leaned over to whisper in my ear, "He's watching you, precious."
Suddenly I felt shy, self-conscious and somewhat nervous - it is an emotional state which, I knew, Master took pleasure in reducing me to. My heart throbbed as Master made a show of kissing me, ensuring he leaned into me just far enough to cause me to lose my balance so that I had to flail my legs to keep myself upright. My skirt came untucked, riding up to reveal an expanse of thigh.
Master broke the kiss. We caught the stranger's eyes flicker toward us again as I reached down to preserve my modesty. "Yes, he's definitely watching you, precious," he breathed. Colouring up, I looked the other way, but Master turned my face back to his and kissed me again, much deeper this time. His hand dropped to my leg where he grazed me with long, caressing strokes that slid my dress higher on my thigh with every pass.
I knew not if the stranger watched us at that moment, for when Master kisses me in that soul-sucking way I find it difficult to concentrate on much else, but as he broke from me I peeked up to catch the stranger looking hurriedly back down at his paper. I knew then that he had been watching.
Master smiled lazily down on me. Pride of ownership was in his eyes. "He wants you, precious," he whispered to me. I ducked my head in an effort to hide my flush and busied myself in packing our lunch's remnants away while Master finished his dessert in smug silence. I felt the stranger sneaking glances toward us, little glimpses which for some reason made my hands clumsy. Glances that always cut away when Master returned the glances himself.
At last, Master had me lick the last cake crumbs from his fingers before we stood and gathered up our basket and blanket to leave. Master nodded a smiling farewell to the stranger as he settled his hand on my bottom. I passed the stranger walking a little stiffly, possibly because my buttocks were in receipt of a thorough massage. Master guided me through our secret garden's exit with the casually whispered comment, "I think we shall have company again on the morrow, precious."
Of course, Master is always right.
Master smiled a greeting to the garden's other occupant when we stepped from the hedgerow's deep shadows into the dazzling sunlight the next day. The stranger blushed faintly, but returned the smile before quickly lowering his head back into his newspaper.
I felt my stomach knot when Master spread our blanket several feet closer to the stranger than he had the day before. The dress he'd chosen for me that morning was shorter than the one I'd worn the previous day. Much, much shorter. I was conscious that I would have to be very careful not to expose my bottom's curve when I knelt to unpack our basket.
Master sprawled comfortably beside me with his long legs stretched out and his weight resting on one elbow. "Loosen my tie, precious," he said softly. I knew my effort to keep my bottom tilted in such a way so as not to display my bareness to the stranger amused Master, for he was quick to point out my failure. "Well done, precious. The watcher's jaw dropped nearly to his feet when you bent forward just now." Again, I felt heat suffuse my face.
Smiling, Master tenderly caressed my pinked cheek. "You know how I love your blushes, precious. Now, feed me."
So, Master had me kneel prettily for him with my knees the customary shoulder width apart, ensuring that he placed me at such a distance away that I was required to bend from the waist to present him with every morsel. He told me to wait, bent just so at the waist, while he chewed enjoyably, so I might dab at his lips with the napkin before he allowed me to straighten, choose another tidbit for him from the basket and then start the process all over again. He permitted me to feed myself between offerings to him and, trying very hard to forget the stranger watching us so covertly over his paper, his own lunch apparently forgotten, I spoke quietly with Master of inconsequential things while we fed.
After a little while, once our grapes and sandwich bits were gone and I was about to cut up the cake into bite-size bits, Master beckoned me to come closer, to kneel up right beside him. Hesitantly, I did his bidding. I found myself embarrassed, though somehow not overly surprised, when he touched me, running his hand from my knee right over my hip to my waist. He made quite certain my skirt lifted with his hand's drag. "I have something sweeter than cake in mind for dessert, precious."
