Eating Out 13

"Baby. I'm home!" you yell as you enter.

I've spent the day at home. Working from the home office instead of making the commute. I am wearing old jeans with holes, an old wool sweater, no make up and my hair in a loose bun on the top of my head. I run downstairs to greet you. You enter wearing business attire. A nice women's suit. You look at me, raise an eyebrow.

"This is how you choose to look for an entire day?" you ask me.

I feel it in my body. That look you give. Not a look of approval. I feel defiant. Bratty. I take the sweater and my t-shirt of at once.

"Is this better?" I ask

You look at me. Smirk. My tits are small, but I know you love them. You have told me often enough. You move towards me. Kiss me. I take one of your hands and put it on my breast. You give my breast a small squeeze and make me moan a little, but suddenly you stop.

"No" you say.

I reply "No? why not, come on, don't you want it too?"

"That bratty attitude is not getting you anywhere?" you tell me.

"I don't have time to punish you for looking like a slob right now. We have plans."

"Plans?" I reply.

I didn't know we had plans.

"We are going out to eat. Go get cleaned up."

And I oblige because that is what I do.

You enter the bathroom carrying a small, black dress.

"Wear this." You tell me.

"It is really short." I answer.

You look at me.

"Are you questioning my decisions?" you ask. And I shake my head. Because of course, there is no way I that would.

In the cab you take my chin between your thumb and index finger, turn my head toward you, look into my eyes and tell me:

"This will be fun."

I nod insecurely. Not sure what you have planned. You take my hand and lead me inside, it is a white tablecloth kind of place, and you have reserved a crescent booth for us. We sit down, you order us drinks, entrees. The food is good.

About halfway into the main course you tell me I need to taste something of your plate, and as you feed me a bite I feel your hand on my thigh. It makes me jump a little. You smile, look into my eyes, and I know something is up. You lean in close.

I feel your hot breath on my neck, and you say: "Go to the bathroom. Remove your panties and bring them back to me."

I look at you to see if you are serious, and you nod and tell me: "Go ahead now princess."

I go. Of course, I do. I feel the arousal. My pussy moistening. In the bathroom I consider touching myself, but I know that you will know if I did. So I don't.

I return to the table and hand you my panties. You smile, and to my horror you don't put them in your purse or a pocket, or even on the seat next to you, but leave them on the table. I feel myself blushing as the waitress approach with the dessert menu. As she walks away, I feel your hand return to my thigh. Your fingers travelling upwards grazing my now very wet pussy. I gasp. You chuckle as you feel my wetness. I feel your finger on my clit and a small moan escapes me. You look at me and shush.

"You have to be quiet. None of that moaning you like to do baby."

The waitress returns. She takes your order. I wonder if she sees the panties on the table or how red my face is. I am so embarrassed, but also so turned on. The sense of shame.

You continue to play with my clit until the waitress returns with the dessert. You even take the time to chat with her, telling her dinner was lovely.

"We both enjoyed it, didn't we?" you ask me.

I whisper a quick "Yes" and hope she will go.

As the waitress leaves I feel your finger entering me. I turn away, towards the wall, not to reveal myself. I hear you laugh.

"Would like to join me in the bathroom Mistress?" I ask you, and you shake your head.

"It's here or nothing baby."

You increase the speed. I know you can tell I am close.

"Tell me what you need princess" you say, and I whisper

"I need you to fuck me. Fill me."

You add another finger. I feel so ashamed, at the same time it feels so good. I close my eyes, bite my lip to stay quiet.

And I whisper: "May I come, please?"

You kiss me and in a stern voice you tell me «You can wait a little bit longer I think."

I beg "please Mistress, you know I need it."

You take your time pumping your fingers in and out of me, flicking my clit until you see how desperate I am.

Then you answer "Yes baby, you can come. But open your eyes. Look at me when you come."

I look into your strong stare, and I feel the orgasm hit me hard. You smile. Help me rearrange my hair. Ask for the check. And then you go and get me my coat, so no one will see the wet stain on my dress. I wonder if I am still getting that punishment when we get home.