tagBDSMOut To Dinner

Out To Dinner


Dressed in my black dress, with nothing on underneath - just as my Master likes - I stand shivering slightly in the cold night air. Already my skin, where it is exposed to the chill, is showing signs of goose-bumps, and my black boots barely keeping my legs and feet warm. He knows I am waiting for him. Only for him. I shiver, not because I am cold, although that does carry a factor, but from desire and anticipation. I know he's going to use me, no my body, tonight. Just as he does every other time. Just like I always like. I tremble as I stand outside, near the driveway to my house, because I know he is coming soon. He called me on the phone earlier and said so. So I wait.

I am waiting another ten minutes in the cold, in nothing but my short black dress and knee-high boots, before I see the headlights approach my street, as I try and guess what his reaction would be when he sees that I am not wearing my collar. I can't help but shudder as I think of the spanking I know I will receive for my defiance. However, it's not to say I'm not without my collar, for I am holding it in my hand, along with my small, silver clutch bag, that is concealing the anal plug he had instructed me to bring, and the candles - as well as the blindfold. The sweet, black blindfold that is matching my dress, my boots, collar and hair. He will tell me to put it on when I get in the car - he told me so, earlier.

The car pulls up alongside the curb and he beckons for me to get in. I do, trembling, and I know, with one look from him, I am wet already. He gently strokes my face, before the seatbelt is in place, reaching through my hair, and with a sharp twist whispers, "Where is your collar, slut? You said you would wear it always, expect in the shower, or in class when you are giving and receiving massage." I close my eyes. He knows the grasp of my hair makes me weak and ready for him, and all I can do is moan. He leans in further, moving towards my neck, my throat. I know what is coming, and I whimper, waiting for him to nip at my throat - like he always does - just like the wolves in the wild.

"Please, Master," I beg him.

"Your collar, you sexy slut, now!"

I produce the collar, in feigned reluctance, and he rips it out of my hand. "Shame on you, for taking it off. You ought to know better," he tells me, holding me in place while he snaps the collar back around my neck, before sliding his around to my face, delivering two light slaps across each cheek. It's not enough to hurt me, other than bruise my pride, and he knows it.

"Do up your seatbelt," he commands me, without looking to see if I obey. He knows I will, for we are about to make a public trip. I know the price of refusing him - a whipping until I am about to come, but I will not be allowed release. If I cause too much of a fuss, he will spank me, regardless of where we are. It's his way of reminding me of my place in the world. And I don't mind in the slightest. He takes the blindfold out of my clutch bag, and places it on my lap. He wants me to put it on. I sigh, and obey. As I do so, he slides his hand against my thigh, and slips it underneath, towards my glistening flower. That's what he calls my sex in he is happy with me. His obedient Lily; well, his usually obedient Lily.

At least I know have done that much right so far - no underwear: no bra, nor panties... Not even stockings to protect my legs from the cold, or his probing touch. He knows I am aroused. Just being in his presence makes me wet, and he knows that, too. He can smell my desire to please him, and make wrongs right again. He touches the moisture between my legs, I'm almost soaked through my short dress, and as he does, I can feel my body tighten and clench, threatening to engulf me and I open my mouth to beg Master to let me come, when he places his finger into my mouth instead. I whimper as I lick it clean.

He continues to drive us to our destination. I have only the vaguest of ideas where we are going. He tells me we'll be there soon. He won't tell me where 'there' is, so I am left wondering. I feel the car slow down, and then come to a complete stop. He reaches over and unbuckles the seatbelt, and I smell the musky scent of him. I can tell he is as aroused as I am, and I don't even know where we are. A part of me doesn't care where we are. I just want him to fuck me right there, against the car, but he doesn't. Instead, he slides out the driver's side, and closes his door. Even though my seatbelt's undone, I haven't been given permission to go anywhere, so I stay where I am. I want to fidget, to remove the blindfold, but I know I would get into more trouble so I sit still, waiting. Wondering.

It seems I don't have to wait long. Master opens my door and gently, tenderly guides me out of the car, making sure I don't stand too quickly, and hit my head on the frame. As I edge out of the car, trusting Master's guiding hands, I am bombarded by noises - people talking, almost shouting and music. I remember Master saying he was going to take me out to dinner, before going somewhere else. Are we at a pub? I don't know. I can't see, Master has my hands, and won't take the blindfold away.

A sensation of falling. People, both men and women, by the sounds of the various voices, are laughing and I am snatched out of Master's hands. I haven't been granted permission to speak - all I can do is gasp in fright. Out to dinner, he'd said. Hands moving over my body, over my dress. I don't know these hands, and I start to panic. I want to cry out, to beg Master to make it stop, to at least let me see, but without permission to speak, there's nothing I can do, but choke back my indignant screams, and pray that be over soon. Chains around my wrists. The sudden cold of the metal has shocked me into stillness. The hands that are touching my skin, binding me with the chains - I don't know them. I don't recognise the feel of those hands.

I open my mouth to protest, but a cloth gets shoved into my mouth. I can't breathe, and begin to thrash and fight in earnest. I am afraid, and the voices are laughing harder now. Finally, just as I start to choke, I hear Master's soothing voice, and feel his hands caressing my face as gentle as any lover had touched me before him. My distress is plain to see, and he knows the only reason I didn't give the signal is because I have no permission to speak yet.

"Have you had enough, my naughty nymph?" he asks me. I bow my head and nod. I feel his fingers under my chin, as he lifts my face to kiss the tears I didn't know are there, and removes my blindfold, so that I can see. People I do not know are surrounding us, and I try to huddle closer to Master for safety and comfort. I know Master wouldn't let them hurt me more than he would. At least, I hope so. He smiles at me - but I know that smile. It's a lead up to something else. I know that he expects me to cringe. But I won't tonight. I will not give him the satisfaction of victory so easily won. I lift my head, and glance across the room.

All sorts of torture devices are visible, and instantly I feel a shiver, and begin to dread which one Master would choose first. I know he has the whip in his car - I saw it before we left my house. I hold my head high, and although I can see that Master is amused, I know he is thinking about what to use first, too. I begin to tremble - a feeling washes over me. This has the feeling of being well-rehearsed, and I'm not playing my scripted part. I'm afraid now, more afraid than I was before, and beg Master with my eyes not to do this. I beg and plead with the shaking of my head. I mouth the words, "No Master, please no." But he doesn't hear me - of course he doesn't - I do not have permission to speak yet.

He does see my head shake, though, and walks over to me. Turning to address his audience - for I know I am the show he has prepared - he announces, "My sweet, tender slut has something to say. Should we let her speak?" The crowd murmurs, and agrees to let me speak - they don't care what I say though; it's all part of what seems to be the show. He turns back to me:

"My slutty Lily, my naughty nymph; have you something on your mind?" He's taunting me now. He knows I cannot speak without his say so. I nod. It's all a naughty, disobedient slave like me can do, for now. He jerks my head up, by my hair, making me gasp. "Then speak, dear. Tell us what is on your mind?"

"Please don't, Master," I whisper, the barest of sounds. "Please. I'll behave, please you, as you like. But please don't. I promise." My pleas are cut off by another gasp. This time my gasp is accompanied by the pain of his hand against my hip.

"Like you promised to keep your collar on, you naughty girl? Should I tell them... Yes I will tell them, and they will decide whether your punishment will continue." Master sounds so cruel, kind and reasonable, all at the same time. He turns back to the crowd and reveals his displeasure at finding his pet without her collar tonight. The murmuring gets louder, and I start to moan. I feel deafened by the sudden sound, and I can no longer think. Master has yet to bid me stay quiet, and I begin to plead with the crowd, telling them I had forgotten as I dressed hurriedly.

Technically it is true - I did hurry to dress after my shower, I did hurry to dry my hair so that I wouldn't catch cold. I did initially forget about the collar until I was halfway out the door. But as I waited for Master, I did wonder what would happen if I left it off. I am paying for that foolish error now, with interest. The crowd decides that the cat o' nine would continue to flog me, but it would be against my naked skin. Master has his grandfather's knife, a blade I have felt against my skin before, and he uses it to slice open my dress; the same dress I wore for my birthday; and exposes my skin for all to see. My breasts and snatch on display to the room, and with my hands bound by the chains and ankles being held in place by strong hands the whip comes down in steady succession. Our safe word is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. Master knows I can take the pain.

Ten lashes, fifteen lashes. At last, twenty lashes. I count them all, as I am told to. My breasts and abdomen are red, and the front of my thighs, including my now dripping lily, are tingling, smarting with the pain. I look at Master, and then the floor. I am hoping he will let me off the post, but he is not done yet. He walks around behind me, with the extra chains to bind my feet, where the hands were holding me just before. Once the locks and chains are in place, he takes his place behind me. I can hear him opening the bottle of lubricant, preparing himself, or maybe it is the anal plug - I really don't know.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him point to someone in the crowd, and beckon them over. I don't get a chance register the man's appearance, as the blindfold is put back into place, but I feel him touching me in places I normally wouldn't let a stranger go. My front, still fiery in it's pain, is being casually stroked while Master is whispering sweet words into my ear, as he gently wedges the plug into my ass. Finally without further fuss, the stranger's cock, wrapped in a condom, surges in, deep into me, and I cry out.

"Oh god Master, please oh god please! I think I'm gonna come! Master, please. Oh fuck, please let me come!" I can feel the pressure building, from being taken on both sides. Master whispers into my ear, "Does my little slut want to come? Do you really want to come, Lily?" He's teasing me now. I know he can feel the orgasm building. I know he feel me try and delay it, trying to waiting for his permission.

"Oh Master, please! Oh please Master, I need to come! I have to... Oh god, Master! PLEASE!" My pleading rises to a scream, and I desperately try to hold it back, but I feel the control slipping away.

"Alright, my sexy slut. My beautiful bitch. I command you to come," he hisses into my ear, "Come for me, your Master demands it!" That's all it takes to release the floodgates. I don't just come, I come hard. So hard, I actually ejaculate. Sighing I sag against the chains. I have no strength left. Nothing to fight with. I'm worn out.

Master removes the anal plug with such tenderness and care, that I quiver with aftershocks, like he knows I would. I feel the movement as he hands a key to the locks on my ankles to someone, I never see who, as the blindfold is removed from my face once again. My wrists are released and I fall into Master's arms, where I know I am safe. I whisper the words I know should. I thank him for showing me the error of my ways, and promise to make amends, and continue to wear my collar expect when showering and in class, when I give and receive massage.

Out to dinner, Master had said. He never did say where.

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