Learning

So I was at a bar with my friends Tina and Joe. They'd just gotten together and we were playing pool. I was watching and drinking neat scotch - just the house variety, I was only 22.

While Tina and Joe were fawning over each other my attention was drawn towards the bar where an older guy was sitting alone and looking over at me. I had no idea why the guy was looking but then it hit me. I recognised him.

His name was Tom, and he was a friend of my parents, married to their friend Marilyn, but they split up and he wasn't at the BBQs anymore. I suppose he was more of a peripheral friend than a main one, but still it was weird when he was just gone. I hadn't interacted with him much at all - just said hello now and then. They didn't have any kids so they didn't really register.

I looked back over in time to see him look away. My friends were still arguing about whose shot it was, so I went to buy another drink.

I walked up to the bar, and stood a little way away from him. I wanted to see if he would recognise me before I said hi. The bartender was in the back and as I looked around the man spoke to me.

"Not going to say hello Sally?" He said. His voice was rough and deep.

"Oh, Hi Tom," I said, "I thought that was you."

He grunted, but he was smiling at me.

"It's been a while", he said.

"I know," I said, walking closer. "I must have been 16 or so?"

"How old are you now?" he asked.

"22," I said, "Just turned."

He nodded. "And you're looking good," he said.

Looking good? I wasn't sure I heard right.

"Pardon?" I said.

He laughed.

"I said you're looking good." He repeated. "You've become a pretty bitch."

Well I definitely heard that right. He called me a pretty bitch. I wondered where he thought it it was OK to call a woman that. I was about to walk away when he spoke again.

"Aahh, I've offended you," he said. "I do that. I don't tend to care anymore. I am just myself. No use pretending like I did when I was married. I see a pretty bitch, I tell her. If she has nice tits, I tell her that too. Like you, you have nice tits."

I was about to get offended when he continued.

"Don't tell me you left the house in that bikini top and singlet without thinking that people wouldn't look at your perky little tits, now..."

My jaw dropped. My 'perky little tits'? Who says that? My mind was saying, leave, walk away from this perv, but for some reason I felt like maybe I should try and reason with him.

"You haven't left," he said. "That tells me I'm right. You wanted people to look at you, and you are enjoying me looking at you. You can say it. Sally, you are a pretty bitch, nice to look at. You can say it."

I stood there with my mouth open. He was saying these things to me. My friends were right over there. It's like I was in shock. This man had known me as a girl and was talking to me like a sex object.

"I, I..." I managed before he spoke again.

"I get it," he said. "You've got this idea of how you should be treated. My wife was the same. But I think you want it the other way. How I am treating you is how you want to be treated. We both know you wear that bikini rather than a bra so that your nipples show through. You want people to look at your tits. You should, Sally. You have nice tits Sally. You should be able to say that. Say it Sally, say 'I have nice tits'. Say it to me now."

I was at a loss. I didn't know what to do or say. Maybe that's why I said what he told me to say. Maybe he was right. I hadn't left and I was doing as he told me.

"I have nice tits," I said.

"Good bitch!" He said. "Now say it again, but say 'titties' this time."

I took a deep breath "I have nice titties," I said. I felt relieved.

"Good start bitch," he said. "Get your drinks and go." He turned away.

I saw that the bartender was there waiting to take my order. He was smiling. He must have heard all I said. I went red straight away. I ordered my drink and went back to my seat.

I noticed that Tom didn't look around at me again. My friends kept playing pool, and I pretty much ignored them. How did I let myself say that? Why? My head was a mess. Then it struck me. He wanted me to say it, so I said it. I pleased him. I liked the feeling. I wanted it more.

I walked back over to where Tom was sitting. He didn't look up. I stood there a moment and the bartender came over smiling again. I said I didn't need any help.

"Yes bitch?" Tom finally said.

"Umm..." I said

"What?"

"Umm, I can do more," I said. Feeling stupid.

"More what?" He said.

"More of what you ask me," I said. "More that pleases you."

"You can, can you?" Tom said smiling.

I nodded.

"Ask for a glass of water, with lots of ice." he said.

I asked the bartender straight away, in a shaky voice. The bartender handed it over, still looking amused.

"Drink the water," Tom said.

I drank the water.

"Say 'thank you Sir."

I gasped. He was asking me to to call him Sir. I was petrified.

"You can do it, bitch," he said. "Say it loud."

I took a deep breath.

"Thank you Sir." I said.

The bartender chuckled.

"Good bitch," Tom said. "Now take an ice cube in each hand and put them inside your bikini, against your nipples."

I looked at him. I must have looked shocked.

He nodded encouragingly. "Do it."

I nodded back at him and picked two ice cube out of the glass. I turned around quickly to see what my friends were doing, but Tom spoke straight away.

"Don't worry about them bitch. Worry about me. It's me you're trying to please."

"Yes Sir," I said again.

I put my hands under my singlet, and then inside my bikini top, quickly feeling the cold ice against my skin and then against my nipples which hardened immediately.

Tom watched me closely, my nipples a little bit, but mostly my face.

"Good work, little bitch," he said to me. "Now take your hands out and leave the ice there until it melts."

The ice was already melting, I could feel water running down my stomach, soaking into my singlet. My nipples were very hard and aching and I could feel my cunt spasm. My body twitched.

"Tell me about your panties," Tom said next.

I cleared my throat before I spoke but I didn't find it hard to describe them.

"I'm wearing bikini bottoms, high cut. We went swimming this morning. They match this top," I said, gesturing at my bikini top.

"So you like to show your ass too," he said.

I just nodded.

"Then why are you wearing shorts?" he asked.

Again, I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing.

"I don't normally like women to wear any pants when they are around me," Tom said. "But I don't want to get Scott fired. So leave them on for now. But take that singlet off, it is getting quite wet."

I didn't hesitate this time. I lifted it up and pulled it off over my head. Leaving me standing there in a black bikini top, cut off denim shorts and my bikini bottoms under. My shoes were over with my bag at the table.

"Good little bitch," Tom said. "Like I said earlier, you have nice tits."

"Thank you Tom," I tried, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Tom nodded. "Learning, I like it."