Lost in Paradise

Lost Chapter 2: Humiliated on Their Night Out

They walked the promenade bouyantly, arm in arm. Lara was proud to be with Marcel and he obviously enjoyed showing her off. People looked at them and smiled; Lara could see in their faces that they thought,

What a handsome couple!

as they watched them pass. She was glad she had forgiven Marcel for pushing things too far last time. He had taken such good care of her since then.

Marcel stopped and kissed her. "They all want what we have," he said, then released her into a dance twirl, which she executed with a happy laugh. They watched a group of boys drumming on various objects skillfully, and Lara talked about her drumming circle back home, and a line dancing class she had joined for awhile. Marcel said, "Such creativity. Ah, to dance and drum with you, what fun." He stopped for a rum drink, but declined to get Lara one. "We don't want you getting drunk and out of your head, as you did last time," he said, swatting her ass.

"No, but

you

can," Lara joked. Still, she felt a pang of guilt and shame for how far she'd gone in public, and with strangers witnessing, participating actually. Of course, Marcel had been the one to take it too far, right? It hadn't been her fault, had it?

They watched a street magic show, then continued to the chic restaurant Marcel was treating her to. The maitre'd led them to a private round booth in the back. They ordered their entrees and Marcel ordered wine to go with dinner.

They chatted and debated and flirted. They ate with gusto, for the food was amazing. Marcel moaned in delight and encouraged Lara to do the same. "Olive oil for you," he said huskily as he dipped his fingers in it, then touched their oily tips to the base of Lara's neck, rubbing circles there so that her nipples hardened and she wished they were in private so Marcel could circle them wth oil in the same way. He repeated the process lower on her neck and some of the oil began to drip down into her cleavage. Lara took a napkin to dab it, but Marcel ordered, "Leave it."

"But..why?"

"You look so sexy, Lara, with a shiny throat like that." She smiled, pleased, and they kissed heatedly. Marcel sat back and eyed her, smiling. "Yes, so sexy I want to take you now. You look to be splattered with cum on your throat and dripping between your breasts."

Lara's smile faltered and she felt a trepidition mixing with her lust.

"In fact, let you show off a bit more," Marcel said, unbuttoning her blouse a few buttons, to the bottom of her cleavage. He spread her shirt wide.

"They'll see!" Lara quickly pulled the shirt together, worried that it would reveal her bulging breast top where Marcel had forced a tattoo on her. The tattoo said SLUT, and Lara was ashamed every time she saw it or thought about it.

"Very well for now," Marcel said. "You don't want to show I have branded you. But leave the buttons open so your cum-stained cleavage peers through."

Lara burned with shame at the words, but Marcel kissed her again and ran his hand along her thigh, whispering, "Do you know how sexy you are? How every man wants you?" Lust and gratitude mingled with Lara's shame. "Now, my Lara, I have a gift to you. It is a necklace; turn around and I will put it on you."

Excited, Lara turned her back to him and lifted her hair off her neck. Last week, while she healed from her tattoo, Marcel had given her diamond earrings! Perhaps this was a matching necklace! That is why he had told her to wear no neck jewelry tonight!

Lara felt Marcel pull something thick around her neck and fasten it with a loud

click

. Confused, she felt at it with her hands. It was tight around her neck, a leather band with metal studs pressing into her skin. She didn't like how it felt and tried to undo the clasp in the back. She could not. "What's this?" she asked, feeling a heavy metal lump in the back affixing the two end rings together.

"It is a lock, my pet. To keep this necklace around your cum-stained neck. How sexy you are. Go take a look in the lavatory."

Panicking, Lara rose and went to see in the mirror, rushing past patrons with her head down. In the bathroom she saw what it was: a dog collar. A black leather collar with silver studs encircling it. It looked no different than a fancy dog collar for a pampered bitch. Furious, Lara twisted it around so the rings and lock were in the front. She tried to pull the rings up or down, twist them through the leather and undo them, but they were embedded. She tried prying and twisting the little silver lock, but it was surprisingly strong and heavy. She looked like a dog! She couldn't walk around like this! Her face burned.

Lara took a wet paper towel and wiped the oil that Marcel had dripped down her neck and cleavage. Glancing at the tattooed SLUT showing at the rounded top of her breast, she quickly buttoned her shirt to just below her neck. She turned the dog collar back around and fluffed her hair around it. This was the best she could do to hide the humiliation Marcel was forcing upon her.

She hurried back to the booth. "Take it off! It's a dog collar!" she half-hissed, half-pleaded to Marcel, who was beaming at her.

"It is a pretty necklace for a pretty woman," he said, reaching to unbutton her shirt. He spread the neck open to display the collar, as well as part of her tattoo. "I wouldn't want us to fight about these buttons," he said, snapping one off in his fingertips, "and accidentally pull off them all, leaving your blouse unclosable." Lara searched his eyes for mischief, found only resolution. "Pull your hair into a ponytail," he ordered.

She hesitated. She didn't want her neck that exposed, but she didn't want Marcel to make it worse."I'm thankful, Marcel, but it's embarrassing."

"As it should be. Now tell me, Lara, why did I engrave your slut breast and give you this collar? It is because you are my whore. I enjoy giving pleasure to you, all that you need. And you must give me something in return. Now, I wish to show this collar and I am becoming impatient. Put your hair up away from your neck or I will take you home and shave it off!"

Lara knew his threats were not idle. She hastened to get a velvet scrunchie from her purse and pull her hair up in a ponytail at the back of her head.

"Thank you, sexy Lara." He kissed her and ran his hand across her nipples, back and forth so that they poked through her blouse. Despite her frustration, she could feel herself getting wet. He kissed and caressed, and she kissed back, warming up.

With impeccable timing, the waiter came by. They stopped groping and untangled. Marcel asked for desserts, a bit more bread and olive oil, and a small glass bottle of Peregrino water. When these arrived, he told the waiter to charge his account and that they were fine to be left alone now. "Of course, Sir," the young waiter nodded. Lara was sure he sneered at her collar as he left, at her SLUT-branded breast beside the missing button.

Marcel said, "Now, this is your choice: you may remove your bra and I will rub oil on those hard nipples of yours through this lovely white blouse. Here, in this booth before we walk out through the restaurant. Oh how thin this blouse is, yes?"

"What else could you possibly ask me to do?" she asked, then immediately regretted it.

"Or you can remove your panties and give them to me now."

In a huff, Lara began to stand and move out of the booth. She'd had enough of his twisted demands, his controlling whims, his public displays of her. But a quick movement from Marcel, a click and a tug at her neck, and she was pulled back down to sitting. "What the hell?" she said, noticing a strap in Marcel's hand.

"No collar comes without a leash," he said calmly, holding it up for her to see that he had attached it to the back of her neck. Stunned, she reached up-- "Don't bother trying to remove it. Only I can do that with a key. One for the leash, one for the collar. It would be sad for me to lose them, no?"

Lara couldn't believe this. What could she do? He wouldn't let her stand or leave on her own?

Marcel began to coo and caress her thigh, her neck, her breasts. "You know I always do what I must for you. I know what you need, Lara. Haven't I shown you a good time? Haven't I taken care of your needs again and again?" He continued to stroke her. She quickly heated, her body betraying her. "Now, please choose, panties or bra, and for now I will remove your leash from your choker."

Lara chose his second proposition, the less public outrage. Beneath the white tablecloth draping over her legs, she shimmied her panties off, down her legs, then passed them to Marcel. He sniffed them conspicuously and stuffed them in his breast pocket like a handkerchief.

"Ah, a bitch in heat is a beautiful thing," Marcel crooned, leaning in to kiss her neck. Despite herself, Lara felt hot and wet, her nipples hard. "Now, hook your left leg on the outside of the table leg, and this leg between mine, and spread your legs wide for me."

"Marcel..." she started to protest this too.

"Lara, such restraint I must have with you! What you have me endure!" He flashed the leash poking from his pocket. "I can lock this leash to your collar and lead you from here like the bitch in heat that you are, or you can open your legs

now

and keep them open!" Lara did as he'd instructed. "Keep them spread. Wider. Wide, like a gymnast. Make your pussy available to me beneath this table, while we eat our desserts we have forgotten, and moan in pleasure at their deliciousness." He handed Lara a fork and motioned for her to eat her dessert, though she had no appetite left. Marcel ate his and moaned, "How decadent." He put his fork down and emptied the glass water bottle on the table. He dipped the end in the olive oil then rubbed the oil along the neck of the bottle.

"Keep your legs spread wide like that as you eat. Keep that pussy available to me. I am going to ease this bottle into your tight pussy. And you will love it."

Lara whimpered and hung her head. "Marcel, you can't..not here..not with that." she murmured.

"Shall I lead you out by your leash and home to groom the hair on your head down to stubble? Then pull you through town on all fours? Shall I tie you down and give you another tattoo?"

She gave in. "No, Marcel," she murmured, splaying her legs wide beneath the table.

Marcel surreptitiously took the small oiled bottle beneath the table and found Lara's pussy with it. He slowly pushed it into her wet hole, deeper and deeper and deeper. The large end slowed him down, but he kept pushing, until the entire fat bottle was shoved into her pussy. He kept his hand covering the end to keep it from sliding out. Lara was on the brink of cumming from this wide phallus in her wet horny hole.

"Let us go," Marcel said quickly. "On the way out, keep that bottle shoved tight in your pussy and don't let it fall out, or everyone will know you for the slut you are. Take baby steps and walk slowly. I will stop and talk to as many people as possible on the way out. Come, it's a long way to the door."

He helped Lara stand and quickly pushed the sliding bottle up beneath her short skirt as she closed her legs. She began wiggling in small steps away from the table. It was difficult to walk more than a few inches at a time, so that was what she did, shuffling quickly.

Marcel stopped at each table and joyously greeted each patron, as though he were the owner or the host of a celebration. He was so charming that many people, who didn't know him, spoke with him at length as he drew out their stories and told his own. Of course he was delighted. Of course Marcel kept drawing people's attention to Lara and trying to include her in the conversations. Lara squirmed and smiled and said little, hoping none of the oil dripped down between her legs. She tried to hide the awkwardness of it by pretending she was drunk and unsteady and in her own world.

Finally they made it outside. Marcel taunted, "Such talent! Such spirit! ...Now I will pleasure you." He pulled her into a somewhat dark alleyway and shoved her legs apart. He took hold of the bottle and plunged it in and out of her slick pussy as he rubbed her clit and kissed her breasts.

As Lara felt her long-teased release building below, Marcel pulled the bottle out and stopped touching her. "Turn around," he said. "Bend over with your legs spread." She did, her hands against the wall, her ass in the air. Marcel unzipped his trousers and pulled out his hard cock. He rubbed it between her legs and across her pussy lips, pushing just the tip inside as he reached around and rubbed her clit. "What do you want?" he asked. She rasped, "I want you inside me." "You want it all, you whore," he said, shoving his cock in as far as it would go. He rammed her from behind as she bent over and held herself up against the wall. He grunted and thrust as his seed spewed inside her. She cried out and came hard, letting the waves of warm exertion pulse through her, weakening her knees.

Marcel held her with his hand at her mound and slowly lowered her to her knees. "You needed that, didn't you? Oh how badly you needed that." He turned Lara aside from the wall and raised her chin. "Now lick my cock," he said. He took his dripping cock and pushed it into her mouth. She licked him until he was soft again.

Marcel put away his cock and kissed Lara's forehead. "Thank you, my Lara," he said, helping her to stand. He brushed off her knees and encircled her waist with his arm. "Shall we promenade, you dirty girl?"

Lara nodded, choosing to ignore the fact of the collar she still wore, hoping Marcel would forget about the leash. She was spent and worn out, though with a salty-sour taste in her mouth. Marcel added, "We can get some drinks on the way back, stop by the ocean perhaps. And tomorrow we can take care of your 'grooming'."