meal. And there were more than a few times she had left a wet-spot on the upholstery of whatever they were sitting on. Merely drawing that thought to mind was already starting to make her face feel hot -- the precursor to an uncontrollable blush he
loved
to cause. She calmed herself, sighing out nervous tension.
"How could I do that?" she asked, nearly whispering.
"I would think a photograph would be sufficient. In fact...
I order
you to get up from this table, go into the bathroom and take a photograph of this
supposedly
wet cunt of yours." He said that so clearly that anyone seated at any of the adjacent tables could have heard his order as clearly as she did from across the table. Her unconscious blush-response was fueled again. She nervously looked around, but there was no sign that what he said was overheard by anyone else.
He continued, "You may even finger yourself, if you think that will help ...But you know my rules. I am giving you my permission to bring yourself right up to the very edge and
no further
. All your orgasms are mine for the taking -- not yours!"
Nervously clutching her purse, she stood up from the table. She glanced around the restaurant as if everyone else in the restaurant had also heard her order. The beginnings of a faint blush formed on her cheeks, Nobody gave her more than a passing glance as they devoured their expensive steaks, chicken dishes, and desserts. It was only her nervous projections feeding back into her own mind.
He had returned to his steak dinner. Holding the meat with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, he began to cut. He sliced off a small bite-sized piece and lifted it to his mouth. He began to chew while she nervously stood opposite him, the table between them. After he swallowed, he slowly looked up at her. His eyes caught sight of the short hem of her dress visible above the tablecloth. A small smirk grew on his face as he recalled his long-standing order that
all
of her dinner dresses were to be short. His gaze traced up her body to lock on her eyes. He raised his eyebrows as if to say,
Why are you still standing there?
He returned to his meal, sliding a little of the mashed potatoes onto the tip of his fork. She hesitated a moment longer, then turned to cross the dining room. With each step closer to the public bathroom, she could feel her blush intensify.
The bathroom was completely empty and she had her choice of stalls to use. She made her way across the bathroom to the last stall, entered, then latched the door behind her. She leaned back against the door, feeling the breeze from the overhead air-conditioning vent blow down on her. The air rushed down into the top of her dress, through her cleavage. It was helping to calm her flush feeling. Her mind replayed the conversation she had -- the order she had been given... and her blushing response that had started long before she had even entered the bathroom. There wasn't much dress material to "hike up," as he had ordered, but she did so just the same. Her fingers slid down the silk slope of her thong -- another order of his:
no
panties,
only
thongs. Her fingers traversed the curve of her shaved skin to rest on her pussy lips that were protected by a thin layer of delicate Persian silk. Her thong was already wet to the touch. She pressed up into her "wet cunt" --
