In chapters 1 and 2, my slut Elaine and I go for a ride. At my direction, she submits to oral, anal and vaginal sex at a diner and a truck stop, on a park bench, and in a sex toy store. Along the way, she fingers herself in the car (a chargeable violation, it turns out!) and submits to a horny cop. It's almost time for dinner. Again, this is a work of fiction and, although based on a real slut, these events did not necessarily happen in real life.
*
As we cruise down the highway in the convertible, wind in our hair, I look over at my slut in the passenger seat. Our friend James at the sex store did well -- Elaine's sizeable tits jut out obscenely on top of the shelf bra, tenting the flimsy, short black top and revealing a good six inches of cleavage, with jiggling flesh on either side. She is still wearing the ultra-short spandex "skirt", which, when she is seated, does nothing to conceal her naked thighs all the way up to the vee of her crotch. Her garter straps are stretched taut on her nude seamed stockings. She has repaired her makeup -- heavy eyeshadow, shading from blue-black just above her long false eyelashes, to sky blue, then silver under her dark eyebrows. Topping off the eyeshadow is a sprinkling of silver sparkles. On her cheeks, just a hint of blush, and on her lips, a lipstick that I like to think of as Cocksucker Red. Nice. We'll need to make some adjustments for dinner, but that can come later.
And speaking of coming... "Slut, spread your legs for me. Wider. That's good. Now play with your cunt."
"But, Master, the policeman said I shouldn't play with myself in a moving vehicle."
"Do you see a policeman here?"
"No, master."
"Then do as I say. You know you want to. It's been nearly an hour since you had an orgasm."
With a soft sigh, Elaine lowers one hand to her still-wet cunt and begins rubbing. The sigh turns to a moan and her fingers move faster over her clit.
"Take off your top... Now squeeze and pull your nipples... Harder." Her nipples harden and begin to elongate, projecting even further out from her horizontal tits above the shelf bra. As she becomes lost in the pleasure/pain of her fingers on her cunt and nipples, I pull alongside a beat-up pickup truck driven by a redneck, with bumper stickers that say things like, "Support Gun Control -- Criminals Prefer Unarmed Victims" and simply, "Pro Gun" with a picture of a pistol. The driver glances over, then does a double-take. He is staring down at a beautiful blonde with one leg up on the dashboard, the other in the driver's lap, furiously pulling on the extended nipples of her oversized tits and rubbing her naked cunt. He gives me a thumbs-up, then makes a jerking-off motion with his hand and opens his mouth in a big "O". I smile, return the thumbs-up, and, making sure Elaine looks up and sees the leering redneck, keep pace with the truck for a few more miles. Judging by the blur of her fingers on her cunt and the extent to which she is stretching her aching nipples, being seen in this humiliating position clearly excites her. I give the redneck one last wave, then press the accelerator and pull away. I feel good. We have just made someone else's day. Without getting arrested or shot.
By now, Elaine is gasping for breath, driving three fingers deep into her needy cunt. When she gets excited, she likes to really fingerfuck herself -- not just rubbing her clit, but using her fingers like a cock, as deep in her cunt as they will go. I can hear the wet, squelching sounds of fingers in her fuckhole over the highway noise. And her moaning, "oh, oh, oh...oh, god! Yes, yes, yes...oooh, oooh, oh, ah, ohhhhhh... oh, Master, can I cum? Can I cum??!"
"No, not yet. Stop playing with yourself."
"Oh, please, Master, please!! I really need to cum!!"
"NO. I said to stop, now stop." She reluctantly withdraws her fingers from her dripping hole. "You can't just cum whenever you want to, you slutty whore. If you could, you would have your hand up your cunt all day long! Show a little decency, you filthy slut. Now get your legs down and see if you can keep your fingers off your cunt for a few miles. We're almost to the restaurant where we're having dinner." Eyes downcast, the chastened slut brings her legs down and sits upright in the passenger seat, squirming on the cushion, obviously hoping that a little friction against the leather seat will bring the relief she craves. I chuckle at this hopeless effort.
We are in fact almost to the restaurant I have chosen for dinner. As the sun is beginning to fade in the west, I pull into the parking lot of the Starlight Lounge. The Starlight has been here forever. It shows its age a bit, in the worn ornate woodwork and frayed chair upholstery, but I love the place. Its art deco décor harkens back to the 30s, when movie stars in tuxedoes and top hats whisked elegant ladies in floor-length evening gowns across the dance floor. The Starlight's clientele no longer wears tuxedoes or evening gowns, but there is a dance floor, and a stage for the occasional live band.
"Change into your other skirt, slut. This place doesn't allow whores in. Sluts are OK, but not whores. And more glitter on your eyelids and mascara on your eyelashes." As she hastens to comply with my makeup demands, I open the trunk and take out a dinner jacket, then come around and open the passenger door and hand her her skirt. As she looks around uncertainly, I say, "What are you waiting for, Cunt? Change your skirt." "Right here in the parking lot?" "Well, where else? This restaurant doesn't have a changing room." Still looking around nervously, she slips down the spandex band, totally baring her cunt and ass, and throws it into the car. She struggles into the slightly longer one and adjusts it as she stands up straight for inspection. "Roll it up a couple of turns at the waist. There... that's good." Nodding my approval, I take her hand and start striding briskly toward the door. Elaine struggles to keep up, her spike heels wobbling erratically in the gravel of the parking lot, threatening at any moment to throw her headlong onto the rough surface. I am, in truth, more eager to get back to one of my favorite night spots than I am to see that she gets there safely.
The place is just as I remember it always has been -- fluted columns support a circular vaulted ceiling in the center of the spacious room, its light grey painted surface adorned with silhouettes of flying cherubs with trumpets (not sure what that represents, but there they are!). The walls are the same light grey, with silhouettes in darker grey of dashing gentlemen and slender ladies with bobbed hairdos, raising martini glasses. Round tables with long white tablecloths surround the dance floor. And we are in luck tonight. There is a small live band -- piano, drummer, trumpet, and clarinet/saxophone -- playing 40s pop tunes. A singer in a low-cut, tight-fitting red sequined floor-length gown sings the slow songs in a voice that ranges from a sexy whisper to a throaty growl. As Elaine takes in the scene, her eyes widen and she inhales sharply. My god, he's taking me somewhere nice! I was expecting another diner! I wonder what he has planned...
I smile and escort her to her seat at a table at the edge of the dance floor. The eyes of the men at the few occupied tables follow this scantily clad slut as she makes her way through the tables, her exposed tits jiggling invitingly, their wives in conservative dress glaring at them. A waiter appears and I order two flutes of champagne, which we sip as we listen to the music. The waiter returns and I order. A filet mignon, medium rare, with a side of asparagus, and a glass of 2004 Cote du Rhone for me, a shrimp salad and another flute of champagne for Elaine. She smiles her appreciation for getting something more filling than her usual lettuce salad.
We eat, we listen to the music, I have a delicious crème brulee for dessert, and then I rise from my chair and taking Elaine by the hand, lead her onto the dance floor. The place has begun to fill up with an after-dinner crowd from other places and there are already a few couples on the floor. I pull Elaine close to me and my hand slides down from her back to her ample ass, squeezing and stroking the flesh through her short skirt. Then up across an expanse of naked belly and under her short black top. I begin squeezing and twisting her nipples. She moans softly in my ear. She can feel the stares of men on the floor and at nearby tables, for whom what I'm doing is all too obvious. She doesn't care. She is a sub slut and this is what is expected of her. She gave up caring a long time ago, in exchange for the constant sexual excitation and body-shaking orgasms.
My hand slides back down, coming to rest in her crotch, pressing against her cunt through the fabric of her short skirt. Her moaning becomes more audible as I rub up and down. I can feel her wetness start to seep through the thin material. I decide that's enough for now, withdraw my hand, and lead Elaine off the dance floor. She is clearly disappointed, but follows obediently. Back at the table, I withdraw a Montecristo No. 2 from my jacket pocket, clip off the end, and light it. I inhale the aromatic smoke and sigh. There's nothing like a good cigar after a great dinner! (OK, in case you're are wondering, we are in Virginia, where you can smoke any tobacco product anywhere, especially in exurban night clubs where the owner is on good terms with the county commissioner!)
As the ash begins to grow on my cigar, a handsome gentleman with salt and pepper hair in a dark suit approaches our table. I had noticed him earlier, when Elaine and I were on the dance floor, sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor, across from a mousy little woman in a plain, high-necked -- but obviously expensive -- gown, who was trying hard to ignore the fact that her husband was ogling an indecently dressed slut whose dance partner was taking obscene liberties with her.
"May I have the pleasure of a dance with your beautiful young lady", he asks me directly, without even looking at her. It is clear that he is asking my permission, not hers. I smile and nod my assent, and he extends his hand toward her, with a slight courtly bow. Elaine looks at me for confirmation, then dutifully takes his hand, rises from her chair and lets him escort her to the dance floor. The band is playing another slow song, the singer is breathing the lyrics into the microphone, and the silver fox pulls Elaine tightly against him. His hand goes up under her top to see what I had been so interested in. It stays there for a while. He is clearly exploring not only her large tits and extended nipples, but also this interesting device that is holding them up at such an impossible angle. I'm sure he's thinking, I wish my wife had tits like this! God, what I gave up when I married for money! His momentary regret doesn't stop him from exploring further, though. His hand is now between her legs, one finger beginning to creep below the hem of her skirt. The hem rises obligingly and his middle finger is now against her wet slit. Elaine inhales sharply and begins to breath heavily. Encouraged, he slips his finger deeper and begins massaging the inside of her cuntlips. I look over at his wife. She is trying not to show that she wants to see what her perverted husband is doing to this filthy slut right out on the dance floor in front of dozens of people. Just as he begins to pump two fingers into Elaine's twat, the song ends and he regretfully withdraws his sticky fingers, lifts them to his nose and inhales deeply, then sighs and escorts Elaine back to our table.
"Your lady..."
"Her name is Cunt."
"Ah. Well, Cunt is a wonderful dancer. I thank you for the pleasure."
