Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down

Friday nights. On the one hand, it's always nice to go out and mark it as something other than just another weeknight. On the other hand, after a week of work, I often want nothing more than an early retreat to bed. Though not necessarily to sleep.

This night was one of those difficult ones. He really wanted to go to the brewpub. The weather was starting to turn, and there wouldn't be many more evenings when we could sit on the deck and listen to the band. I said sure, of course. Then I did that passive-aggressive thing that I usually pride myself on not doing. I hugged him from behind and ran my hands over his crisp white shirt, saying "Don't you want to change into something more comfortable?"

"No," he said, absently, "This is fine."

I came out of the bedroom naked, holding a dress up in front of me -- that little black and white print, with the buttons down the front and the deep sweetheart neckline. I looked up at him through my lashes. "What do you think of this?"

He barely glanced up from the pile of mail he was sorting. "Sure, great."

I slowly buttoned myself into it and then paused, my chest bare. "I don't need a bra with this, do I? What do you think?"

"No, you look fine."

With glacier slowness I bent over the laundry basket, facing away from him, and held the pose, sorting through things one by one. "Hmmmm -- where are those white mesh panties I like? I know that I put them in the wash."

I don't think he even looked up.

I kept it up in the car; stretching like a cat, letting my skirt ride halfway up my bare thighs. Telling him about the "interesting" dream I had the previous night, where he had his way with me and, for dessert, several of my friends. At the bar, I was SO warm and absentmindedly unbuttoned a couple of buttons. I had to try one of his fries, and to do so, well, naturally I had to stand up and lean across the table. I mean, I practically fellated the straw in my Diet Coke. Nothing.

I had to run to the bathroom. I took my time bending over to get my bag. And then I gracefully rose, holding his gaze until the last second, and when I walked away I swished that skirt with more than a little anger.

I had only gone a few steps when he called me back.

"Yes?"

"Come a little closer," he said. I took my time leaning over the table and he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling me, "When you're in the bathroom, I suggest you take off those panties." I smiled from ear to ear. There's no other word for it -- I was downright smug.

When I came out and saw him waiting for me, I was confused, but happy. He held out his hand and said, calmly, "I'd like to have a little chat with you." And then he took me by the wrist and pulled me into the men's room.

I'll admit that I struggled just a little bit as he paraded me past the urinals, which were in use by a few patrons. I tried to turn my burning face from them, as if by not seeing them I could ensure that they wouldn't see me. I had to skip to keep up as he bounded down the aisle of stalls, several of which looked occupied. With his right hand he gripped me tight, and with his left he loosened his red silk tie -- the investment banker tie, I always called it, because it made him look trustworthy, staid. When we got to the last stall he mockingly, gallantly, waved me in ahead of him, and then he shut the door and locked it, pressing me up against the scarred gray metal. I was panting but he was calm, his face registering only a slight amusement.

"Now, hold out your hands like a good girl," he murmured, and when I did he quickly bound my wrists up in the red silk, cinching it tight and then securing me to the coat hook on the back of the door, my arms raised.

"I think that may be the first appropriate thing you've done all night, pet," he said conversationally, and I tried to flash him a look, warning him that people might hear. He chuckled, leaned in closer. I could feel the heat coming off him, but he didn't touch me, except to pull a lock of my hair from behind one ear and place his mouth against it. I could feel the palms of my hands and soles of my feet prickle with roller-coaster fear.

"Oh, so NOW you're worried about what they might think? Don't you think they already know exactly what you want? Exactly what you need? You're such a naughty girl, I bet they could smell your excitement all the way through the bar." At this he suddenly plunged two fingers deep into me, then out. He held them up before my face.

"Look at me. Just look at how sloppy you are, you bad girl. Now, what on earth were you thinking? Do you imagine for one second that I am unaware of you, unmoved by you?" He ran his wet fingers over my lips and I tried to pull them into my mouth, to touch him with my tongue, but he was having none of it. He started quickly unbuttoning my dress, pushing the material back with every button so that soon it hung limply from my shoulders and I was otherwise naked. "Did it even once occur to you that perhaps I had something in mind for you, something worth waiting for?" He shook his head, clucked his tongue with disappointment. "No, you just keep bringing it."

He tipped my head up with two fingers so I was forced to look into his eyes. "And when you misbehave like that, rest assured, you're going to get just what you came looking for. This IS just what you wanted, isn't it?" I wanted to turn my head, to drop my gaze, but he wouldn't allow it.

"No?" I whispered tentatively, my mouth dry.

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, licked his lips. "Well, I suspect I know you a little better than you do yourself. I'll just give you a minute to think about it."

When he knelt down and began, it seemed almost absentmindedly, stroking my inner thighs, I whimpered. I tried to catch it in my throat but it was too late. He rose and leaned into me again, one hand still teasing along my skin, now exploring the crease between my thigh and my tender, bare pussy, one hand caressing my face. I trembled.

"You know, it just occurred to me that you might not be completely clear on the plan," he murmured, oh-so-calmly. "So let's go over it, shall we? Now, first, you are going to come for me. And then, I am going to fuck you. Right here. And THEN, we are going to go and finish our drinks. It doesn't matter how quiet you are, because people are still going to know. And it doesn't matter how loud you are, because I am not going to stop.

"Do you know what I would do if I heard someone violating a sweet little thing like you in here? I think I would stand up on the toilet and look over the stall so I could see. Mmm -- yes - I would stand there and watch the entire thing. Do you think they'll do that here? You can look up and see their faces, if you like. Or maybe they'll just hunch down in the stalls and stroke their cocks. Think about that -- there are probably a couple of them already, just trembling with eagerness to hear you moan again. And of course, I intend to make you scream.

"Mmm -- I wish the whole bar could see you like this. Maybe I should describe the way you look out loud for them. Except that, of course, right now I have something just slightly more interesting to do with my mouth."

I had never felt more naked or more vulnerable. I was so aware of every footstep, every cough, every creak of the door. I knew that he was relentless, so there was no use appealing to him for mercy. A mercy, I suddenly realized, that I was unsure I even wanted. For as I forced my mind to focus on him, on his mouth, on his hands, I realized how strongly my body was reacting, even without my cooperation. I had never been so sensitive, so wet. He reached behind and stroked my ass and I gasped.

I tried to push myself forward so that his tongue could more easily probe me. With one hand he spread me open, taking my clit completely into his mouth to lick and suck, while he slowly inserted three fingers, then four, as deep as they would go. I had barely closed my eyes, trying to focus, when he pulled away, tsking.

He didn't even bother standing up to whisper to me. He spoke for everyone to hear.

"Eyes open, sweet girl. Don't wish yourself somewhere else. I want you right here."

And with that I pushed aside the last shred of resistance, and turned my own will to the task of giving him exactly what he wanted from me. My body was trembling so uncontrollably, I sagged awkwardly against the metal divider. And as he reached up to tease my nipple with one hand, I groaned deeply, desperate to close my eyes, and then came with almost no warning, squeezing his fingers tightly within me as I spasmed.

I was still fluttering inside as he spun me around, pushed aside my dress and entered me; the bonds around my wrists tightening so that I was forced to stand on tiptoe. He pushed so that I was pressed up tightly against the door. It felt so cold on my bare flesh in those first moments, as I arched back against him, trying to show him how much I wanted him. He pulled my head back and took my ear into his mouth, gently nibbling, while at the same time nudging at my legs so I would spread them a bit wider.

But I was so incredibly excited, so ridiculously wet, that, engorged as he was, I couldn't feel him the way I usually could. I tried squeezing around him more tightly, but he must have realized this at the same moment. He pulled out and then, almost before I could feel the loss, he filled my ass. With all that wetness, he slid in quickly, as though I had already been well-greased. Which I suppose I had.

I cried out unselfconsciously with pleasure and pushed against him, getting him in even deeper. I couldn't have held my tongue even if I had cared to at that point

"Oh, yes," I moaned. "Oh, so good." I hoped the room was full, that they all could hear, could know what he was doing to me. Getting them off that way would just be one more gift I could give him.

And when he teasingly whispered to me, "Care to rethink that answer now? Isn't this what you really wanted all along?" I cried, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"