Her Desire Ch. 02

This is another chapter of the story that started with Her Desire. Once again, it was a collaborative effort. My friend, EV, related more of her submissive fantasies to me and then helped me turn them into a continuation of the story.

Enjoy!

AM

*

You look at the clock on your office wall. You were hoping to be out of here by now and there were still two people standing in front of your desk waiting for a decision. You give the matter some thought, ask them a couple questions and ponder for a moment. Then you make a decision, give them their marching orders and send them on their way.

No sooner are they out of your office when another head pokes in with yet another question. Geez, you'd think you were going away for a month, not leaving early on a Thursday to start a three day weekend. You answer his question and look at the clock. You're already fifteen minutes late getting out of here and you haven't started packing up yet.

You think about calling home, but decide to do so from the car. You've got to get out of here and it seems like you're never going to be able to if you don't just go. You pack up your things quickly, one eye on your office door.

A dozen things, last minute instructions and reminders rush through your head. If you take the time to address them all, you'll never get out of here. You have to force yourself to let it go. You can call tomorrow and follow up on those things. Tonight is supposed to belong to you and your husband. You pick up your bags and head out, hesitating for a moment, about to make one last call. Then you shake your head and will yourself to let it go.

Even as you make your way through the office, a couple of your employees stop you, looking to you for decisions or guidance. Your sense of responsibility does not let you rush off without answering. You take the time to give thoughtful answers and make sure that they're understood.

Then you're in your car, homeward bound at last. Only forty minutes later than you had hoped. You reach for your blackberry to call home and let him know you'll be late. Even before you pick it up, it's ringing. Work. You answer, trying not to be impatient. You listen to the problem, make a decision and give the caller instructions. You hang up and try once again to call home, but again the phone rings.

Your commute is less than a half hour, but your phone rings a total of three time in that period and you never get a chance to call to tell him you're running late. When you finally pull into the driveway, he's already home.

You rush into the house and dump your bags unceremoniously by the door.

"Sorry, hon," you tell him. "I really, really tried to get out early. I guess I can just go to dinner in this." Your gray blazer and skirt are not quite as elegant as you would like for a special, just-the-two-of-you night, but it would do in a pinch.

"I picked a dress out for you," he says simply. You look at him. Is he angry you're late? He doesn't seem to be. But he's acting unusual... there's a quiet seriousness. You aren't sure what it means.

You go upstairs and find the dress he's picked out for you. It's one he bought for you quite some time ago, but you've never had the nerve to wear it. It's cut low in the front and backless. Not much support or concealment for your full C cup breasts. It's short too, falling several inches above the knee. It's very elegant, classy. Just a bit too daring for your taste.

"Uh, hon," you call over your shoulder, heading into the walk-in closet. "How about something a bit... uh..." You sort through the racks and find a dress you like. When you come out of the closet, he's standing there with the dress in his hand. He says one word:

"This."

He holds it out to you. You aren't sure what to make of it. His eyes are intense, boring into you, brooking no compromise. You look at the dress in your hand and the dress in his. With a slight hesitation, you return the dress you've picked to the closet. You take the dress from him. It's black, soft, sleek... the kind of dress you wish you had the nerve to wear. You certainly have the body for it, but the revealing nature of it is too unnerving.

Tonight you don't seem to have a choice. You look at him, not sure. He nods to the dress in your hand and leaves the room.

You change into it and look at yourself in the mirror. It's quite amazing and your body has never looked sexier. You might die of embarrassment dressed like this, but you certainly understand why he wants to see you in it.

You pick out a nice pair of three inch heels to compliment it. Yes, a man would kill for you dressed like this! You wrap a light shawl around your shoulders and head downstairs.

He takes one look at you and takes the shawl away and tosses it aside. He does so without asking or even caring what you think. Then he looks you over, appraising the dress and your body in it. You feel practically naked under his scrutiny. The dress barely seems to contain your breasts and the high hemline is just long enough to hide your panties.

He draws a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. He nods approvingly and leads you to the door.

On the way to dinner he doesn't say much. But most of the ride, his hand is on your thigh. It's not the warm, comfortable touch you're accustomed to... he's a bit higher on your leg than normal. And he's pushing your dress up in a way that's making you nervous. Not that anyone can see, but your dress is up high enough to expose your panties.

At one point your blackberry rings again and, without thinking, you answer. He arches an eyebrow at you as you quickly give instructions to the caller.

"Just leave it on my desk Jimmy. Yes, tell Dave I have it and I'll take care of it first thing Monday. Okay, thanks, Jimmy." You hang up, looking apologetically at your husband. He has a peculiar smile on his face and says he doesn't mind. Nevertheless, you switch off the phone and stash it in the glove box.

Your heart rate picks up a little. You don't know what's going on, but he seems to have some sort of plan in mind.

At the restaurant you follow the maitre de to your table, feeling the eyes of every man in the room on you. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You have to fight the urge to pull at your dress and try to cover your oh-so-exposed breasts.

At the same time, it's not a bad feeling. Those eyes on you. Lustful eyes... drinking in your cleavage. You've put it on display for them and they're noticing. For the first time that night you feel a soft throbbing between your legs.

You sit and the waiter gives him the wine list. He looks it over then shows it to you.

"How about this?" he asks you, holding the wine list out, but not far enough. To read it you have to lean forward. As you do, you feel like your breasts are hanging completely out. Did the waiter just sneak a peek at them? You want to sit back, but your husband is tapping the wine list, waiting for you to look.

God, you feel naked and the waiter is definitely glancing out the corner of his eye at you. The heat is back in your cheeks and the throbbing returns to your loins. You nod at his selection, sit back and smile up at the waiter. How much of your breasts did he actually see? He smiles back, nods and departs.

Your husband is staring into your eyes with an alarming intensity. He knows, doesn't he? He knows that your tits are practically falling out of your dress. He wanted you to lean forward... give the waiter a peep show. The thought sends a shiver through you. What is he doing? And why?

After the waiter pours the wine and takes your dinner order, your husband leans forward and beckons you to do the same. You do, once again self-conscious about your exposed cleavage.

"Go to the ladies room," he says in a low voice. You blink. Did he just say that? "And take off your panties." The heat rises in your body instantly. Is he joking?

You look into his eyes, momentarily forgetting how exposed your breasts are. His eyes are not laughing. He's serious. "Do it." Your heart suddenly racing, you get up and excuse yourself.

A few minutes later, you return, your panties in your small handbag. The free flow of air up between your legs as you walk is incredibly erotic. The eyes on your breasts as you cross the room make you smile this time. If only they knew...

You sit and he smiles. It's not his usual smile. It's a predator's smile. He is a wolf tonight and you are the lamb. It's a hungry smile.

You blush under the intensity of his gaze. You don't know what he's thinking or what he's up to. And that's unusual, unnerving even. But exciting at the same time. He's got you in a public place virtually naked. He's looking at you in a way that makes you feel like you're on the menu. You can feel your nipples starting to stiffen.

Oh, God, not that! In this dress? That would be like a flashing neon sign! But the thought of getting aroused in the middle of a restaurant is a turn on in itself. Soon, your breasts are aching as your nipples strain against the fabric of your dress.

Under the tablecloth, his fingers find your thigh. You stifle a gasp as his fingers slide up under your dress. Oh, God! You have no panties on! What if he...?

His fingers brush the neatly trimmed hair under your dress and you are longing to feel him press against you, touch you there. But not now! God! What would happen if he slipped his finger into the growing wetness between your legs? The whole restaurant would know it in an instant!

He withdraws his hand, his eyes still burning into you. You look away, unable to calm the racing of your heart.

Dinner passes in a blur. There is not much conversation, and what there is, is tense, overshadowed by his hungry leering. Several times you have to fight the urge to tug at your dress, cover yourself. Every time you lean down to take another bite of your meal, you feel like the whole room is getting an eyeful of your breasts. The way they sway, so unrestrained is electrifying and alarming. He seems to notice your discomfort, his lips curling in a smirk.

After the check is paid, he takes your hand and leads you briskly through the restaurant to the door. You hurry to keep up, worried because moving so quickly is causing your barely concealed breasts to bounce around. The thought that a nipple might inadvertently slip out is mortifying.

And breathlessly exciting.

You're almost to the door before you think about what's under your dress. Or not under it. You've been so preoccupied at the thought of exposing your breasts that you had completely forgotten that there would be nothing hiding your ass (or anything else) if your hurried pace caused your dress to rise or flutter up.

At the car, he is a gentleman, opening your door for you, taking your hand and helping you in. Then he leans down to give you a quick kiss. You kiss him back, never seeing his hand until it's between your thighs. The sudden contact causes you to stiffen involuntarily. He kisses you again, pinning your head back against the seat as his fingers go where they had only threatened to in the restaurant.

The first touch of his finger on your clit is exquisite. Your legs part to grant him better access as you sigh into his mouth. He rubs you gently under your dress, his fingers getting wet with your juices. He slips a finger between your softly pulsing lips then, moistened, he massages your clit. You let out a moan.

You know you're in a public place and someone might hear... or see. But the sound comes out anyway. Even as you are worrying about being observed, your hips rise to meet his hands. But he withdraws.

He takes his finger and rubs it across your lips, forcing you to smell and taste your own arousal. Then he wipes his finger on your dress.

"Maybe later," he says as he straightens up. "If you're good." He closes the car door.

He climbs in the other side and pushes his seat back. It occurs to you that he has parked at the far edge of the lot on purpose. The car is facing away from the building and there are few cars parked this far from the entrance. It's almost dusk, but still light enough out that you're worried about doing what you think he wants you to do...

"Take it out," he instructs you.

"But..." Something in his eyes stops your protest. Something tells you that it would be futile. Instead, you look back over the seat at the building and parking lot. There are people getting out of a car and headed toward the door, but they're facing away from you.

Your pulse is racing as you reach down and unzip his pants. What if someone pulled into the empty spot right beside you? You look at his unzipped fly and then back up into his eyes, almost pleading with him. It's not that you don't want to please him, but this is so risky. At any moment someone could see you.

The look in his eyes is intense. There is no compromise in that piercing stare. You look down and watch your hand, almost as if it were someone else's, slide into his pants and extract his stiffening member. Your breathing is heavy, your heart pounding as you take one last look at his eyes, then at the parking lot around you.

"Now suck it."

Obediently, you lower your head into his lap.

He groans as your mouth envelopes his cock. You feel him continue to swell, filling your mouth with his silky smooth member. The throbbing in your loins intensifies as you slide your lips down his shaft. Oh God, it's exciting! You love the feel of him in your mouth, love to hear his moans of pleasure. But the way he told you... commanded you to do it. And here, in a public place! Your body shivers as you bob sensuously up and down on his cock.

As you suck, his hand reaches over and pulls your dress aside, spilling out one of your breasts. It sways, unfettered, with the bobbing of your head. You want to cover it up, but you know he won't let you. And does it matter, you wonder? If someone were to look in the window, your exposed breast would be the least of your worries.

You push your lips all the way down, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat. His hand presses against the back of your head, forcing you to take him as deep as you can. You start to come up, but he holds you there. Your pussy throbs when you realize he will not release you.

God, since he discovered his passion—and yours, too—for forcing his cock into your throat, he has done it quite often. And it's been incredible, every time. Tonight is a little different though. Tonight is the first time he's held his cock down your throat in a place where you could be seen...

What if you were to look up and see someone at the window looking in? You wouldn't be able to tell him! And if you tried to get away? Well, he never lets you go before he's ready to... The idea of being so powerless... held down on his cock, unable to move as someone watched you... A fresh flood of warmth floods your pussy at the thought.

You glance up at the window and no one is there. But the thought that someone could be is overpowering. Oh God! What kind of slut would they think you were, if they saw you like this? Head down in a man's lap in a parking lot? His cock forced down your throat?

He holds you there and waits. He knows eventually your body, deprived of air, will struggle to escape, breathe. He knows to wait for it. He knows how long to hold you there until you are actually afraid, panicked. And he knows to hold you there still longer, savoring the power of his cock over you. And letting you savor your powerlessness at his hands.

You squirm. You gag. You try to raise your head as your body screams for air. The panic sets in and your whole body bucks, trying to escape. You don't care that your breast is exposed, you only want to breathe.

Then he lets go and you pull away, gasping and retching. And totally wet.

When you catch your breath, you take him back in your mouth and continue your gentle sucking of his cock. You want him to force you down again. Or fill your mouth with his ejaculation. Providing him either of those pleasures would so please you in turn.

But after a few minutes, he stops you and pushes you away. You sit up, slipping your exposed breast back into your dress. But he reaches over and pulls it out again. Reflexively, you attempt to cover yourself, but his hand stays yours. You look at him, eyes wide. It's still light enough to be seen. And sitting up like this, your breast is on display for anyone who passes by. He pinches your nipple, looking at you with a grin that could be half sneer. He knows you are worried that someone will see you. But he also knows that the thrill of that possibility is making your pussy throb.

"Look at you," he says in a low, hoarse voice. "Tits hanging out, sucking cock in a parking lot. What a slut." He pinches your nipple one last time and nods for you to put your breast back into your dress. You aren't sure which gets you hotter... him calling you a slut or having him give you permission to cover yourself.

He shoves his still-erect cock, glistening with the juices of your mouth, back into his pants and zips up.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulls out something small and dark. It looks like fabric. He reaches over and you sit very still, letting him do as he wants. He puts it over your head and then over your eyes. Oh my God! It's a blindfold! It's actually over your eyes before you realize what he's doing.

"Uh, hon..." you ask, uncertain. But he puts a finger to your lips, silencing you. Then he starts the car and pulls away.

For a few turns, you're able to keep track in your head where you are. Or at least where you think you are. But it soon becomes obvious that you aren't heading home.

When the car finally stops, you aren't even certain how much time has passed. Everything has been a bit of a blur since your eyes were covered. Without a word, he gets out of the car and closes the door. You are alone in the dark with no idea where you are. You want to reach up, remove the blindfold. But you know you dare not.

He is in that mode that is so new and not yet fully understood. It started when he discovered that forcing his cock down your throat is something he wanted. And that you were pleased to let him take what he wanted. Since then, he has found other things he's wanted and he has taken them. Tonight will be some new manifestation of this pattern. It's both exciting and scary, since you have no idea just how far he might go when it's something he's never done before.

Then your car door opens and he helps you out. He's not rough, but he's very physical, manhandling you firmly, but not carelessly. Not hurting you, but making you very aware that you are in his control.

Then he turns you to face him and he does something to your dress, very close to your breasts. Oh God! Is he exposing them? Oh God, he is moving the fabric so that it barely covers you! Your breasts are almost completely exposed!

Then he turns, takes you firmly by your upper arm and leads you away from the car. At one point he tells you to step up. You pause and awkwardly feel your way up the step onto what is presumably a sidewalk. A few steps later, he stops you and does something.

"Be still." He says firmly. You don't dare disobey. Firmly, he turns you back in the direction you just came from. You feel his hand in your dress, feel him pinching each of your nipples, until they are hard and erect. Not only are your breasts barely covered, your nipples are standing out for all to see! You must look like a slut! You then hear a wooshing sound, the opening of a door, perhaps? He grabs your arm, spins you back toward the sound of the door and ushers you along and then stops you again. Yes, he is definitely opening doors. He opens a second door and escorts you through it.

You are immediately aware of the talking of people. Various scattered conversations creating a low din in what sounds like a large open area.