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"Sara, I will make a deal with you, not that I have to, you understand. If you truly don't want this, if you are really not aroused by the prospect of submitting to me, I will release you."
"Oh, please, Mr. McCafferty..." Sara began, but she paused as he held up his hand.
"Not so fast... Before you say anything more, you are to go to the Ladies Room and remove your panties. You will bring them back to me, and then we shall discuss whether or not you truly don't want this."
Sara whimpered softly as she heard his words. Her face flamed red.
"That is not necessary, Mr. McCafferty."
"I don't believe you have a choice," McCafferty countered. "I have given you a command, and you will obey... Or you will be punished. Have you forgotten that?"
He stared at her meaningfully.
"No, Mr. McCafferty," Sara sighed, defeated. "I haven't forgotten. But I'm afraid there's no point. I think we both know that you will find my panties are wet."
"Yes, I am sure I will. But that changes nothing. I have given you a direct order. You will obey."
"Yes, Sir."
Sara picked up her wine glass and drank the remaining wine in a few quick swallows. Then she reluctantly stood, grabbed her purse, then obediently headed for the ladies' room.
McCafferty took Sara's glass and refilled it, then placed it back on the table, by her place setting.
While Sara was gone, the waitress, Laura, brought their food. She placed the chef salad at Sara's place, then handed McCafferty his lamb chops.
"Will there be anything else, Mr. McCafferty?"
"Laura, what time do you have?"
The waitress looked at her watch, as McCafferty examined his.
"I have 12:03, Mr. McCafferty," Laura replied.
"Good," McCafferty acknowledged. "We are in agreement. My guest and I wish to be left alone, until precisely 12:40, at which time, you will return with the check. Am I understood?"
"Of course, Sir. Should you need to get ahold of me during that time, for any reason, please don't hesitate to let the hostess know. Otherwise, I shall not be back until precisely 12:40. You will be undisturbed until then. Enjoy yourself, Sir."
The waitress turned and left.
A short time later, Sara returned from the Ladies' room, clutching her purse tightly, her face blushing brightly. She sat down at the table, then opened her purse and withdrew her panties. Looking thoroughly embarrassed, her face red, Sara handed them to McCafferty, who took her underwear and examined it carefully.
"As expected," McCafferty noted. "Your panties are not merely wet, they are pretty thoroughly soaked."
Sara was mortified. She sat in silence, trying to control her rapid breathing.
"My offer to release you was predicated on you truly not wanting to do this," McCafferty observed. "The evidence to the contrary is pretty clear. You are very aroused."
"Yes, Mr. McCafferty."
"You are my slave," McCafferty announced. "There will be no release."
"Yes, Mr. McCafferty."
"Now, eat your lunch," McCafferty directed. To Sara's horror, he placed her panties on top of the table, in full view, as he began to eat his lunch.
Sara stared in mute horror at her panties, so conspicuously displayed on top of the table. She fought the urge to grab them away, to hide them. She knew, in her gut, that McCafferty was testing her, and she was about to fail that test if she gave in to her embarrassment... But, oh my god!
Sara found she couldn't ignore the flimsy garment on top of the table. She knew, without a doubt, it was put there to shame her, to proclaim her slutty nature to anyone who happened by. When the waitress returned, as she surely would before long, there was simply no way Laura would fail to notice them. She would know, with terrifying clarity, that they were Sara's, and Sara was nothing but a slut. That she was sitting there, in an up-scale public restaurant, without any panties. Far worse, the crotch panel was thoroughly soaked, the large wet spot clearly visible.
After several long moments, in which Sara struggled with her mortification, she couldn't help herself.
"Mr. McCafferty..."
"Silence, Slave," McCafferty growled. "You will speak, only when asked a direct question. Is that understood?"
Sara whimpered in humiliation, fighting to catch her breath.
"Those panties aren't hurting anything. Now, eat your lunch."
Blushing profusely, Sara picked aimlessly at her salad. She couldn't focus on her food. Her gaze was drawn irresistibly back to her panties, so conspicuously displayed on the table.
"You're not eating," McCafferty observed after watching Sara struggle with her humiliation for a while. "Why is that?"
"Please, Sir," Sara gasped, her face as scarlet as ever. "I can't. I have butterflies in my stomach. I can't seem to find my appetite."
"Perhaps that's due to the fact that you're unbalanced," McCafferty mused. "Alright, give me your bra."
Sara stared at him in shock.
"But Sir..."
"No buts," McCafferty cut her off. "I have given you an order. Obey me."
Sara stared in shock at McCafferty for a few moments, then appeared to steel herself. She took a large gulp of wine, then stood up.
"Where are you going?" McCafferty challenged her.
"To the Ladies' Room, to remove my bra," Sara replied.
"If I wanted you to go to the Ladies' Room," McCafferty observed, "I would have told you to do so. I didn't. Now, remove your bra. Do it here."
Sara stared at McCafferty in disbelief. Was he joking? They were in the middle of a public restaurant, at lunch time!
"Excuse me, Sir," Sara objected. "You can't be serious."
"I'm as serious as a heart attack," McCafferty growled ominously. "And you just earned yourself another punishment for your disobedience."
Sara felt like she had been slapped. She was wearing a blue cotton button-down blouse. She tried to imagine how to work the shoulder straps of her bra off her arms without exposing herself. The cotton blouse was not nearly stretchy enough to allow that. There was no way she could comply with McCafferty's order without fully unbuttoning her blouse and partially removing it. The prospect of doing that, here, in a public restaurant, even though there was no one around at the moment, was terrifying. The waitress could return at any moment!
"Are you disobeying me, Slave? I'm waiting."
"No, Sir. I'm just trying to figure out how to do this."
"Figure it out?" McCafferty chuckled. "It's quite simple. First, you have to remove your blouse."
"Yes, Sir," Sara whimpered. "As you wish, Sir."
Her face flaming red, Sara started unbuttoning the buttons on her blouse. When she had undone the last one, she reached behind her, inside the blouse, and found the catch on the strap of her bra. She worked it loose, noting, as she did so, that reaching back had caused her blouse to open, completely exposing the skin of her abdomen and the cups of her bra. She slipped her left arm out of the sleeve, pulled her arm through the bra-strap, then pushed her arm back through the sleeve of the blouse. She repeated the procedure on the right side, removing the bra completely.
Sara meekly handed her bra to McCafferty, unavoidably flashing her breasts to him in the process. She then started to quickly rebutton her shirt.
"Not so fast," McCafferty objected.
As Sara watched in uncomprehending horror, he slowly and deliberately laid her bra on the table, carefully arranging it next to her panties.
"Leave the top two buttons open," he ordered.
Sara groaned. This just kept getting worse. Now, he was making her expose herself. It was bad enough, without her bra. Sara was sure that anyone looking at her would know she was naked under her blouse. They would be able to see the unrestrained motion of her breasts as she walked, and would probably be able to see her nipples underneath the thin fabric of her blouse.
But with two buttons undone, she would be blatantly exposed. The highest button on the blouse she was wearing was just above her breasts. The 3rd button down, the highest she was allowed to close, was below her bellybutton. There would be no way to avoid showing vast amounts of cleavage. Worse, Sara knew if she leaned forward, her blouse would fall open, fully exposing her breasts to anyone standing in front of her.
But Sara had been given a command, and she didn't dare disobey. She fastened the 4th and 3rd buttons, but obediently stopped there, despite her utter mortification.
"Very good," McCafferty praised her. "You look very sexy that way."
"More like slutty, wouldn't you say, Mr. McCafferty?"
"I would not," McCafferty objected. "I realize the way you are currently dressed is far more risqué than what you are used to, and you are embarrassed because of it. But your frame of reference is that of an upper-middle-class woman. If you were a super-model, strutting down a runway, or an actress on the red carpet, dressed as you are now, you would be perceived, by one and all, as sexy, desirable... classy... untouchable. You are a beautiful woman, Sara. You shouldn't hide it.
Sara felt an inexplicable glow of pride at McCafferty's approval.
"Thank you, Mr. McCafferty."
"Now, Sara," McCafferty began, "You have said you don't want this, but I can see otherwise. You are very aroused, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, Mr. McCafferty."
Sara was humiliated to have to admit it, but she knew her state of arousal was more than evident. There was no point in trying to deny it.
"You enjoy submitting to me," McCafferty commented. "I am aware that your moral sensibilities are telling you this is wrong... that you are cheating on your husband, even though you are a slave, and have no control over what you are commanded to do. I am also aware that the intensity of this experience is well outside your comfort zone. But you are aroused, none the less... very aroused.
"Yes, Mr. McCafferty."
"Your body is enjoying this, even though your mind is appalled."
"I suppose that is true."
"Therefore, you need to turn off your mind. You are a slave. You don't need to worry about the propriety of what you have been ordered to do, whether it is socially acceptable, or morally right. As a slave, you have one responsibility, and that is to obey. Turn off your mind, and what you will be left with is a body that is enjoying itself immensely.
"You want me to be mindless, Mr. McCafferty?"
"Of course not," McCafferty countered. "Your intelligence, along with your physical beauty, is an integral part of your attractiveness. I don't want you to be mindless, I want you to willingly give up control... Stop thinking about your inhibitions, and simply focus on following orders. Put your mind into what the BDSM community refers to as sub-space.
"Sub-space, Mr. McCafferty?"
"Think about 'The Story of O'. The young heroine, O, chose to submit herself to her experience, to surrender control of her body to others... to her lover, to the valets at the chateau, to Sir Stephen, and the others he allowed to use her. Certainly, her mind must have found that objectionable. What person in her right mind would have consented to being objectified, given to others, gang-banged, and whipped? To being disciplined for the sake of being disciplined, to being trained as a sexual plaything? And yet, she emerged from the experience triumphant, and you found the story irresistibly erotic."
"That was a fictional story, Mr. McCafferty," Sara pointed out. "Fictional stories are fantasy. This is real life."
"Perhaps," McCafferty acknowledged. "But the principle is the same. O wasn't mindless, she was a very intelligent young woman, just as you are. She was submissive, as are you, despite your very powerful inhibitions. She chose to lay down her inhibitions and submit to the experience. She chose to obey. As a result, she found liberation, happiness, and strength."
"Perhaps you're right, Mr. McCafferty, but O could not completely lay down her inhibitions. If you remember, Sir, she was unable to obey when Sir Stephan first met her, when he commanded her to play with herself, to masturbate, in front of him."
"Ah, just so," McCafferty replied. "And therein is a little test. I will give you the same command. Play with yourself."
"But Sir," Sara gasped.
She took a second to compose herself.
"Please, Sir... That is an order I would find most difficult to obey."
"That is your mind speaking," McCafferty observed. "I have told you, turn it off. I can assure you, your body will have no such objection."
"Mr. McCafferty, please," Sara whimpered. "We are in a public restaurant."
"Did you think I don't know that," McCafferty inquired. "I assure you, I am well aware of where we are. Yes, we are in a public restaurant. We are also in a private room, by ourselves."
"But the waitress could return at any moment."
"That is a risk you will have to take," McCafferty insisted. "Now, obey me. Unfasten the snap on your pants, draw down the zipper, and pleasure that very wet pussy."
Sara stared silently at McCafferty for a moment, trying to summon her courage.
"Yes, Sir," She whimpered. "Oh my god."
Sara reached down and undid the snap on her pants, then drew down the zipper, loosening the waistband enough to give her access. She slipped her left hand down inside the front of her pants, and began to slowly stroke the length of her dripping slit.
As soon as she touched herself, Sara groaned in pleasure. She leaned back in her seat and tried not to moan as she began to knead the sensitive flesh of her mound. She reached down and penetrated herself with first one finger, then two. Then she pulled out and began to rub her clit, squirming her hips as she did so. She closed her eyes, giving herself over to the pleasure.
"Eyes on me," McCafferty ordered. "Do not close them. And you are not to cum without permission."
"Please, Sir," Sara gasped. "Please, Master Scott... May I please cum?"
"I think you can hold out a little longer," McCafferty chuckled. "Eyes on me," he repeated as he saw Sara eyes losing focus.
"Oooooh... Yes, Sir..." Sara gasped, rocking her pelvis fore and aft.
"Obedience, Sara," McCafferty remarked. "That's what this is about. Submit yourself to my will, and you will find pleasure unimaginable."
"Yes, Sir," Sara gasped, her breathing now rapid and shallow... "I will try to obey... But sometimes, it's really hard."
"Think about 'The Story of O'," McCafferty instructed. "Think how O must have felt. Obedience could not have been easy... But she surrendered herself, just as you are doing."
"Oooooh... Yes, Sir..." Sara moaned, as she continued to stroke her dripping slit.
"Surrender to the feeling, Sara... Think about 'O'... Think about how she must have felt, on her knees, naked, gang-banged, whipped. That first night in the chateau... they all used her. Would you like that? Being forced to suck cock... to fuck perfect strangers... to be trained as a sex toy?"
Sara moaned in humiliation and helpless arousal as she pictured the scene in the book when 'O' was first initiated at the chalet. She worked two fingers deep inside her pussy, gasping in pleasure as she did so.
"Oh, my god," Sara gasped. "Please, Master Scott... May I have permission to cum?"
McCafferty looked at his watch. "Not yet. You can hold it a while longer."
Sara moaned with the effort to hold back the orgasm coiling within her. "Yes, Sir... Oh, god... I need to cum."
"If you come without permission, you will be punished," McCafferty warned.
"Yes, Sir," Sara gasped. She pulled her hand abruptly out from between her thighs.
"I didn't tell you to stop," McCafferty noted. "Keep going."
"Please, Sir," Sara gasped. "I won't be able to hold off, if I keep touching myself."
"Then you'll be punished, won't you," McCafferty observed rather drily.
"Oh god," Sara gasped as she returned her hand to her very excited pussy and began once again stroking her sensitive flesh. She was so turned on, she could barely suppress a moan as she obediently reached down and resumed gently frigging her clit.
"Look at me," McCafferty commanded. "Look into my eyes, and tell me what you feel."
"I feel like a slut," Sara moaned. "I'm so embarrassed, but you've got me so turned on, I need to cum. I can't resist it anymore.
"So tell me, Slave... What has you so turned on?"
"Everything, Master Scott," Sara moaned. "I can't believe you're making me do this, making me masturbate in a public restaurant... That you made me give you my bra and panties, that I am naked under my dress... That I am on display, my cleavage exposed, and my breasts in danger of falling out of my dress. That you are shaming me, deliberately doing things to humiliate me... Displaying my underwear for the waitress... When she sees it, you will be undeniably proclaiming me as a slut...
"So, you're enjoying this," McCafferty chuckled.
"No... I mean yes... I don't know!" Sara gasped. "I think I hate it... I should hate it, but I need to cum so bad. I don't think I can hold off any longer. Please Master Scott, may I please cum?
"Well, Sara," McCafferty conceded, "I believe you do need some relief. You have my permission to cum. Do it now."
Sara began her orgasm before McCafferty even finished speaking. Her pelvis started rocking, fore and back, then side to side, in increasingly strong contractions. Her legs stiffened under the table. She abruptly grabbed her napkin and stuffed it into her mouth, biting down on it to stifle an otherwise loud moan. Her body was soon convulsing in strong ecstatic contractions, her orgasm washing over her and wresting control of her body.
A few moments later, it was all over, but Sara's appearance left little doubt as to the intensity of her experience. Both of her breasts were exposed, having become dislodged from her open dress as she thrashed in ecstasy. Sara didn't even notice at first. She was cum drunk, blissfully unaware of her appearance or surroundings, as she savored the pleasurable feelings washing over her.
Sara sat up with a start, suddenly realizing she was basically topless, and quickly moved to fix her blouse. She drew the fabric of her blouse together over her breasts, but obediently left the top two buttons undone, as she had been commanded, leaving her cleavage deliciously exposed.
"That's a shame," McCafferty chuckled as he watched her. "I was enjoying the view."
Sara's face flamed red in embarrassment, but she made no comment. Eventually, she sat back in her chair, her face flushed, panting as she sought to catch her breath.
"Thank you, Mr. McCafferty," Sara sighed. "That was exquisite."
"I'm glad to be of service."
McCafferty watched her silently, occasionally checking his watch, as Sara basked in the pleasurable afterglow of her orgasm.
"Pull yourself together now," McCafferty finally admonished her. "Laura will be back in just a few minutes. You may button up... and here, take your underwear. I suggest you put it in your purse, if you don't want Laura to see it. Then, I suggest you visit the ladies room and pull yourself together."
Sara sighed with relief as she quickly refastened the top two buttons of her blouse. Then, as she took her underwear and discretely put it in her purse, a sudden realization dawned on her.
"You knew," she said in shock. "...Sir," she corrected herself. "You somehow knew the waitress wouldn't disturb us."
"Yes... a lesson in Trust." McCafferty grinned at Sara mischievously. "Are you familiar with the term 'Mind-Fuck'?
"No, Sir. I can't say that I am."
"Well, I'm sure you can guess what it means," McCafferty chuckled. "The Mind is, far and away, the most sensitive sex organ in the human body. Almost all orgasms result from stimulation of the mind, far more so than physical stimulation of the classic erogenous zones. You might want to remember that. What you experienced today was a classic Mind-Fuck."
