Supper with Mistress

The Blue Sky Cafe, Pam's cafe, is kind of like a Starbucks, only with a much better menu. She serves "designer" blends of coffee, all organic and ethically-sourced. She serves some fresh baked muffins and danishes. She serves sandwiches. Both deli sandwiches, and a small selection of made-to-order hot sandwiches such as a Cajun-blackened flounder sandwich that makes a hearty lunch. She doesn't serve supper. She closes at 4:00. But she does serve a champagne brunch on Saturdays, and that's delicious. It's substantial, too, with offerings such as a variety of eggs benedict.

I have my audience in place at 4:30. My "staff," too. Pam will be cooking. Paige, my live-in slave-whore, and Elisha, a college girl I'm looking after for the semester, will be the waitresses. Naughty waitresses. Sophie, my live-in slave-girl and handmaiden, will be in her usual place. At my side catering to my many, and diverse, whims. It's where a personal slave belongs.

I created some rather cute uniforms for my waitresses. I started with a short-sleeved white cotton blouse that buttons all the way up to the neck and has a collar almost like a man's shirt would. I added a pastel green, narrow, men's tie to it. I had them button their blouses all the way from the collar down to just under their breasts, then leave them unbuttoned. And tie the tails at their stomachs, to leave a slice of bare skin visible above the pastel green mini-skirt. And pastel green patent-leather shoes with spiky heels. But no underwear of any kind. No bras. No panties. Not even stockings. Both wear their collars, but those aren't visible under the shirts.

It won't matter to the audience, I introduce both of them as my slaves. They even have name tags on. Paige's gives her name as "Skanky," and Elisha's gives her name as "Newbie." It's the names I made up for them. The ones they use everywhere, except on official forms where their names have to match some official record. Then they use the names their parents gave them. Only then.

But Susan and Chris won't know these two are slaves. Elisha is going to wait on them. "Newbie," a name that's generic enough that doesn't give away that she's a slave. Nothing in here will give anything away. Except for Sophie's collar. That's visible. I just wonder how long it will take Susan to spot it. Or even if she will. That clearly gives away that Sophie is a slave. And that her owner is likely one of the two ladies at her side. Thus, either I or Mindy is the "friend" that Andrea sent them to meet.

"Ugh!" I hear Susan groan out slightly loudly as she opens the door to Pam's. Just a few minutes before they were due to arrive, Andrea texting me a warning when they deplaned, we switched the sign in the window to "open." Pam is going to switch it back to "closed" as soon as they aren't looking. Luckily Pam's is downtown, and the downtown area is rather quiet on Sundays. There's not too much chance of a random diner coming in.

"Just try it, babe." Susan is saying over her shoulder to Chris. "I'm too hungry to wait until we get home, and the flight attendant swears by this place. She said it's the best cooking in Mobile, and she's lived here all her life." That's true, Andrea was born here, but I seriously doubt she told Susan that. Susan must be improvising.

Pam hustles over and offers to show them to a table. Before Chris can say anything, Susan allows them to be led to a table. It's in the center of the dining area. We reserved it just for them. But since everyone here is part of a scene, that wasn't hard to do. There are no random diners this time. That's happened to me before when I used this place. But since Chris lives only one county away, I won't let it happen this time. I want to fully control the environment.

I just want it to like no one is controlling the environment. It's why I invited a wide selection of people, and toys, for the audience. I want it to look like it's not an audience, but just a random collection of people who decided to have their supper here tonight. I have young. Wendy is only 18 by about a month. I have older. Brad is 48, and his wife Christy is 46. I have guys and girls. I have students. I have upper class. I have working class.

And I have a table full of nurses in scrubs, including me. We're all wearing the crimson scrubs with USA Health embroidered on them. We all have our IDs clipped on. We have some stuff, like a stethoscope, crammed in a pocket. Just stuff to make us look like a group of nurses grabbing a meal after a long shift. And gabbing about the patients we had to deal with. That's a topic we all have plenty to gab about. Plus Mindy and Annie did just get off at three, which usually means closer to four. They look tired as if they've just done a long shift on their feet. Because they have.

It's not long before Elisha is at their table, introducing herself and handing them menus. I printed the menus on my computer. This evening, we're offering only three choices, so it won't be too hard on Pam. We have Lamb Kebabs, guaranteed Kosher. We have blackened flounder filet served with grilled shrimp. And we have deep-fried turkey breast. It's a menu that offers a decent variety. And uses what Pam already had in the kitchen.

Doing her best to be a good waitress, a job Elisha's never had in an actual restaurant, she's prattling on about how everything is ethically-raised, free-range, organic, non-GMO, no-antibiotic, and in short, actual food, the way G-d created it. She warns them that flounder is a bit spicy but incredible. As are the kebabs, but not those aren't as hot as the flounder is. According to Elisha, a girl who never set foot out of Georgia before coming to Mobile, the kebabs taste very authentic, "like straight from Jerusalem, authentic."

I just wait, gabbing away with my friends for a few minutes. There's no sense in looking too eager. And it leaves Susan to wonder which of the ladies in here is the "friend" who will find her.

I wonder which of the ladies Susan is thinking it is. My money would be on Sabrina. She's about Andrea's age and looks it. She also has a slightly stern look on her face. Like a strict librarian. Like someone, the "adult entertainment" industry would cast as a harsh German dominatrix. Oh, how wrong that guess would be. Sabrina is a rather submissive little fuck toy!

I make them wait close to ten minutes, giving Elisha time to bring them some drinks.

Chapter 02: Naughty Little Boy

When I finally rise, I slowly meander my way over toward Chris and Susan's table. I walk casually as if heading for the ladies' room in the back or something. Anywhere but their table. I don't see any reason to draw attention to myself so soon.

For the same reason, I tell Sophie to stay at the table. She's clearly a slave, and if she were tagging along with me, it would offer Susan a big hint. I leave my crop at the table, out of sight in Sophie's hands, too. That way I'll just look like a young nurse walking through the cafe. Another diner.

I got a good look at the pair as they entered the restaurant. I picked a seat where I would. Andrea tends to get rather artistic with her descriptions of people. And it's not like she could ask them for a picture. Well, she could have gotten one from Susan, but that wouldn't be as much fun. Still, her descriptions are close enough. As they enter I have no doubt they're the couple I've been waiting for.

Chris is a decently tall man. I'd guess he's a bit over six feet, maybe 6'2" or so. He has a nice broad build as well. I just can't tell if he's stocky, hunky, or has a bit of a "dad body" under the business suit he's wearing. Not even when he drapes his coat off the back of his chair.

It's a nice suit, suitable for church, which is probably where they were before leaving this morning. He has on a white, button-down shirt with a medium red tie. The suit has black slacks and a matching blazer with it. It looks like leather loafers, too. Nicely shined ones.

Chris has a fairly oval face, but one with softer, more rounded lines to it. And not so oval as to look narrow. His head is clearly shaven, not bald. I can see a trace of stubble covering his head, as if he shaved yesterday, not this morning. He has a full beard of light brown hair that's neatly trimmed short. It's brown, with almost no gray to it at all, except at the center. There it's almost fully gray, making it look like he has both a beard and a goatee. He also a neatly trimmed brown mustache. He has green eyes over a slightly long-looking nose. And he has a slightly narrow mouth, framed with medium-plump, dark pink lips.

Andrea told me Chris is 41. She got that off the passenger manifest which has ages on it, along with ID numbers and such. I guess that's post-9/11 security. They want to know exactly who is on planes now. He looks it. He's also a fairly good-looking man. I wouldn't mind being seen with him.

Susan is closer to average height, around 5'5" I would guess. It puts the top of her head around the level of his chin. She's wearing a very loose-fitting, modest, ankle-length skirt today. It's not fancy, like evening wear would be, but it is professional looking. It looks like church-wear to me. She's paired it with a long-sleeved, loose, black blouse. It hides the shape of her body almost fully. But still, I can guess that she probably weighs around 140, give or take a few pounds. She's just not wide or thick enough to weigh much more than that. It is, however, possible, that those blousy clothes are hiding a slimmer figure than it looks. She wearing low, and thus comfortable, heels that match her skirt.

Susan has a slightly sterner face. Not harsh. It's feminine, just with a light touch of sharpness to it. It's fairly oval, enough so that it has a slight narrowness to it. She has medium brown hair that hangs down to her shoulder blades. It looks to be styled into tight curls. They're too precise to be natural. But tonight she has her hair pulled back. She has bright green eyes over a smallish and narrow-looking nose. And she has a straight, slightly narrow, mouth framed with fine lips. I can't tell what color her lips are, they're covered with a thick, deep red lipstick. She has a jawline with slightly angular lines to it but topped with a rounded chin. It's those lines that give her face that strong look. The straight mouth gives it a slightly, and perpetually, displeased look. She's wearing silver-framed glasses with small oval lenses.

Susan is definitely not an unattractive woman. She just as definitely looks middle-aged. But not quite as old as her husband. Guessing I'd put her age in her late 30's, maybe 40 at the most. Andrea told me she's 38. If anything, I'd call her look common. She could be any woman in any supermarket anywhere. While there's nothing special about her looks, she's definitely as pretty as any other housewife I'd pass in Publix.

As I near the table, I hear a tidbit of conversation. It seems Chris has decided that the menu here is rather brief in its selection. But everything sounds, and from what he's seen, looks delicious. It sounds as if he's softening to Susan's choice of restaurant.

Susan has been steadily checking out all of the ladies in here. I'm sure she's wondering which of us is the one Andrea sent her to meet. Her demeanor tells me she's getting slightly impatient as if she's wondering if Andrea might be playing some trick on her. She pays me no attention as I pass by her. As if she's already discounted me as Andrea's friend. I don't know why! Andrea is only eight years older than I am! But I'm petite, and that makes me look a little younger. At least to middle-aged people.

I stop right beside Chris and quickly turn to him. "Oh, you're that naughty little boy who just can't take his eyes off my friend," I say to him in a rather scornful voice.

"Excuse me?" Chris says to me, clearly lost. He hasn't a clue what, or who, I'm talking about.

"Don't play dumb with me, little boy," I scold him sternly. I move quickly, slapping his face. It's not a hard slap, but it's enough to get his attention. It doesn't even leave a handprint. At least not one that won't fade in a few seconds. But Chris's jaw drops from it. "You know exactly who I mean! That beautiful red-headed flight attendant you ogled all the way from Charlotte today."

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Chris says, almost stumbling over his words. I'm sure his mind is racing at warp speed. Wondering how I knew about Andrea. Or even that he was on a plane today. Maybe he thinks Andrea called a friend to laugh about the guy who was checking her out. As if that doesn't happen ten times a flight!

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a look of surprise on Susan's face. I guess I wasn't the one she was expecting. But mentioning Andrea was obviously enough for Susan to catch on that I'm the one Andrea sent her to meet. I see her eyes flash over me, taking in the scrubs and noting the nurse-look. I'd bet she thinks it's a costume, not real.

I am not going to give Chris time to think. I've found it works better if I don't when I'm surprising a sub who doesn't know me. Taken by surprise, an eager sub will generally submit, at least when interested in playing with me. So I'll just find out.

I reach down, my hand moving as quickly I can, to Chris's crotch. I grab a good hold of his cock and balls, squeezing him firmly and holding on. I get enough of a squeeze that I see his eyes starting to pop, his face just starting to scrunch up. That's enough for me to know that Chris is definitely feeling my squeeze.

"Naughty boy!" I sternly scold him, still not raising my voice above normal. In that harsh, steely-firm tone, I tell him "stand up. You deserve to be spanked for eyeing up another woman in front of your wife!" I pull up on his balls. The thin fabric of his slacks does nothing to cushion my grip. Chris quickly rises up to his feet, the backs of his legs pushing the chair aside as he stands.

"Oh..." I say with a little surprise in my voice. "There must be something wrong with this little penis. It's throbbing. Has it been checked lately? Never mind, I'll just see what's wrong with it. Show me your penis, little boy."

"WHAT?" Chris balks, his face pure shock. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see a look of just as much surprise on Susan's face. I'm sure she expected to just meet me, have coffee, and talk about some future session. I'm sure she didn't expect me to just start in on Chris. Especially here in public, with all these people watching us! And now, everyone in here is staring at Chris. I guess they heard me tell him to show me his cock. It's what I wanted. I wanted them both surprised, out of their element, and essentially left with no choice but to either put their trust in me or leave.

"Never mind," I say in my bullying voice. As I do I release my grip on his balls. My hands move as fast as they can, flying up to the waistband of his slacks. It takes me only a few short seconds to get his belt unbuckled and his slacks unbuttoned. My hands hang onto the waistband of his pants. As I do, I slip my fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts. "I said show me your penis, little boy." I yank hard, tugging his pants off his hips. They're loose enough fitting that they fall right to the floor. His boxers go right with them.

It leaves Chris standing there with his hard cock sticking out from between the tails of his shirt. His cock isn't so long. At most, it's five inches, and maybe a little under that. It leaves him no bigger than average. But it is decently thick. Over an inch wide. It's not circumcised, leaving its foreskin rising up and almost fully hiding the spongy head of it. So far up that only, the very tip is visible. The hole at its tip, and maybe a tiny sliver of deep purple flesh around it. His skin is light, fully showing the thick veins that line his hard shaft.

And now, everyone in here is gawking at his cock. A couple of the girls, especially the younger ones, are giggling, too. I'm sure they're giggling more from the way I just exposed it so shamelessly and openly. And I'm just as sure that Chris is certain they're giggling at its size. Any man would think that.

"This penis is just so tiny!" I announce, a bit of a mocking giggle in my voice. "Girls, you have to see this little thing!" I grab hold of Chris's balls again. But this time I just get his balls, reaching under the erect shaft to cup them in my hand and squish them firmly. His balls are covered with the same long, curly hairs that make up the fur surrounding his shaft. Bot otherwise they're now bare in my hand. I give them a good squish, stopping only when I see his face starting to scrunch up. That tells me that he really feels the firm grip I have on those tender eggs.

I start walking toward my table. And I hang on to Chris' balls. He stumbles badly, almost tripping a few times as we cross the few strides. I'm sure it's next to impossible for him to walk. Not only am I half dragging him along by his balls, but his pants are dangling around his ankles.

I walk him right up to the table. As I pull him to it, I use the back of my hand to nudge his cock. The same hand that I have balls gripped in. It nudges his cock up over the table. As his pubes bump into the table, I move my hand back down so that I'm squishing his balls under the table, but his cock is laying atop the table. As if another of the menu offerings.

To my surprise, it's Mindy who speaks first. Almost the instant his cock is on the table. She, like all of my guests here, knows the rules. Chris may be touched, anytime, anywhere, by anyone. I don't care who touches him. Or how they do it.

"You're right, that penis doesn't look good. It appears to be severely atrophied." Mindy reaches her hand out to his cock. She very softly puts the tips of her fingers on his shaft, as close to the base of it as she can. She starts slowly drawing her fingers along its length. His cock twitches so hard that it jumps up off the table. Mindy lets it, keeping her fingers flowing along its length as she does.

Mindy's fingers glide all the way down to the tip of his cock. She slips her fingers around it, wrapping her hand around the shaft about midway down. She holds it lightly. She pulls his skin back, exposing every bit of the dark purple, bulbous head of his cock. She keeps his cock snugly in her hand. She puts the tip of a finger to the head of his cock, stroking it very tenderly over the sensitive flesh.

She barely manages a single stroke. A huge drop of sticky cum oozes from the tip of his cock, clinging to it and sparkling in the light. Everyone at the table sees it.

I squish his balls a tiny bit harder. "Messy little boy!" I scold him in a cold, bullying voice.

"I'm not surprised it's so eager," Mindy says with a faint giggle to her voice. "A penis this small would never be able to satisfy a woman."

"So true!" Wendy blurts out in a very girly, and giggling voice. "It takes some man-meat to fill up a girl and satisfy me!"

Chris blushes a little as his eyes turn to the very young-looking Wendy who is making fun of his manhood. His cock twitches crisply as Mindy teases it a little more. "Have you ever seen one so small before, Annie?" Mindy asks.

Of course, she has. She's been a nurse for years. She's probably seen one half the length of Chris's. "No, that penis is shrunk up worse than any I've run into. No wonder it's throbbing so badly. No way could it satisfy itself with a woman, there just isn't enough of it left."

"You know, with it leaking like that, it's probably an issue with his prostate," Annie says with a little smirk on her face. Annie has always been very playful. Playful with her boyfriend, too. As long as it's him getting the short end of the straw, not her, she's up for about anything.

There's about one second of silence. Wendy's eyes go wide at the suggestion. Even though she's only a first-year student, barely starting, really, she knows generally how a prostate gets checked. Who doesn't? She's just yet to see it done or get to do it herself.