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She walked along quickly beside him, thinking that the heels on these boots were ridiculous and constantly feeling like she should be pulling down her skirt. It wasn't THAT short, she supposed, her actual butt wasn't actually sticking out, but it sure felt like it was about to, especially without panties on (Rule #8 – No underwear, period.). How the heck was she going to sit down? Wait, was there a rule about that?
Dammit, there were so many rules to remember that she was sure she'd mess up a hundred times before the night was over. And he had said something about punishment being severe and immediate. He had given her a chance to get out of it, even a chance to renegotiate the rules and punishments, but she had declined. This, strict and rigid discipline, was exactly what she wanted. More than that, it was exactly what she had needed for so very long.
But was she really ready for it? He had shown her that she could be a perfect little slut in private, shown that to her beyond her wildest fantasies. And he had assured her that he wouldn't have offered to take her out in public in this role if he wasn't absolutely sure she could do it. Still, she wondered. Her head swam with all the new rules, and she felt like everyone, absolutely everyone, was looking at her.
Yes, she was dressed kind of slutty (Rule #3 – Dress exactly as instructed.) but no more than some of the other women out tonight. She felt a little trashy compared to him in his jeans (that fit him Oh So Well), white oxford shirt, and dark sport coat but he had prepared her for that. Then she thought, maybe it was actually him that was causing all of the people to look at her. She hated that. She didn't care that he was older than her, why should they?
Okay, so the way he held her hand (Rule #6 – Always walk on his left side. Rule #12 – Never let go of his hand unless and until he tells me to.), always held her hand, and how he kissed her forehead whenever they stopped at a crosswalk (Rule #4 – Say thank you for any display of affection.) left no question as to their relationship.
But he wasn't that much older. Not like her dad or anything. Well, not quite anyway. And she was particularly glad he was with her and holding her hand now. This was not a nice part of town. Not that it was exactly dangerous but you heard stories.
Stories, she thought; it was stories that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She had always been a little uncomfortable with how much she thought about sex, and the kinds of sex she thought about. She had met some people online that had helped her get over most of the shame and the guilt but, once in a while, she still felt like a bit of a freak.
Then she met him. He made her feel okay - actually, more than okay, good - about being a freak, about being what and who she was. Then he made her feel safe, protected, and secure, right before he terrified her in exactly the way she'd always wanted to be.
And she was terrified now. He glanced over at her. Was that a look? What was she forgetting? Then he smiled. Whew. Just messing with her... again. He stopped, turned towards her, and brushed her hair behind her ear.
"Are you ready? Absolutely sure you want this? This is your last chance to stop without using your safe word. What is your safe word?"
"Martini."
It was instinctual. He checked in with her often in the early days of their time together. It had become so ingrained that she thought it whenever she was scared, in our out of a scene.
He cocked his head, waiting for her confirmation. She nodded, a solid, definite yes. She was more than ready; she was anxious.
He turned back and led her another half block to a pretty seedy looking bar: chipped paint on the door, loud people inside, lots of neon signs. It was not the kind of place she'd ever go into on her own. But he was here, and this is where he would make her darkest fantasy come true. He opened the door and told her to let go of his hand.
She did, and he slapped her hard on the ass, almost knocking her into the place.
The calls started immediately. A dozen men and a few women whistling and calling her "hot" and "sexy" and things she hadn't heard used in public before. She paused and felt his hand on her shoulder. He was there, so she was okay. She was offered drinks and lewd sexual acts several times as they worked their way to the back of the bar. She just shook her head (Rule #5 – Do not speak to anyone but him.) and kept moving. When they got to the very opposite end of the bar, he squeezed her shoulder and they stopped. He leaned down and spoke into her ear above the noisy crowd.
"What would you like to drink?"
She smiled, figuring out his real purpose was to give her an opportunity to use her safe word.
"Tequila, please, Sir." (Rule #2 – As always, he is Sir with a capital S.)
His eyebrows raised and he smiled. She knew that would throw him a bit. But she wanted a little help with her courage. And she knew this would be her only drink. He was firm about people being completely in control of themselves during play.
He ordered her drink and a rum and coke for himself. He made sure both were top shelf, which was rare in this kind of place, both because he wanted them to have a decent drink and to get a little extra attention in the bustling bar. He insured the ploy by tipping big. The attention was quick to materialize.
"Hey sweetcheeks, why don't you send grandpa home to bed and hang out with someone more fun."
How rude! No one spoke like that about him! The guy wasn't even cute. But she checked herself (Rule #7 – Let him handle it.) and just looked at him blankly. He definitely handled it.
"Because she deserves someone smart enough to wear shirts that button. Now push off, junior, before the bartender realizes you just swiped his tip."
The bartender glared at the rude boy and called over the bouncer. Rude boy argued he hadn't taken anything, but his appearance and behavior and Sir's big tip won out over his protests.
She sipped her drink as he laughed with the bartender. Then someone bumped into her and she glanced back at them.
"Hey, I saw that." His voice was firm but not mean. "Checking out other guys while I'm standing right here? What do you think you're doing?"
She stammered an apology, begging and pleading that she wasn't checking anyone out. That he had bumped into her. (Rule #9 – Always be explicit and specific.) She was terrified, just like he knew she’d be and just like she wanted. And people were paying attention too, lots of people, just like she wanted.
"Yeah right. Look, if you want to see his dick, just ask. I'm sure he'll show it to you. Won't you buddy?"
"Hell yes!"
The crowd that had formed taunted and cheered. Women hooted and guys yelled and one obviously gay man loudly stated that if she didn't want to see it, he did.
"Go on, say it. Go ahead."
(Rule #10 – Do what you're told.) She blushed furiously and mumbled something incoherent.
"Oh, c'mon, you'll have to do better than that."
She could feel herself blush and she looked directly at the floor while she asked if she could see his penis. That's the word she used... on purpose, knowing what reaction it would bring.
"Penis? Are you kidding me? Guys have cocks and that's what you're longing to see, isn't it? Isn't it?"
"Yes, Sir. (Remember Rule #9.) I want to see his cock."
The man pulled out his cock to the loud cheers of the entire bar.
"Well, here it is, beautiful. What do you think?"
She couldn't help but look. She didn't think she could blush anymore but she did. It was bigger than Sir's, longer and thicker. The man showing it wasn't fully hard but he was definitely getting that way.
"Well, I think she wants to suck it... right here, right now. Don't deny it. I can see in your face how much you want it."
Should she respond? Could she respond? She was close to hyperventilating, though whether out of embarrassment, fear, or excitement, she wasn't at all sure. Still, she was sure he wanted her to say it out loud.
"Yes, I want to suck his cock."
"Well, get down there and get to it then."
Oh God. She fell to her knees as much out of almost passing out as out of obeying his command. She was about to reach out and grab the guy's cock when she stopped herself (Rule #11 – And ONLY what you're told.). He'd said suck, nothing about touching it with her hands. So she put her hands behind her back and opened her mouth, wrapping it around the man's thick, hard cock and taking as much as she could.
"Good girl, very good girl," he said in her ear, leaning down. She knew he was also getting a closer look at her face to make sure she was still okay.
The man's cock filled her mouth and throat as she moved her head back and forth. The crowd's cheers made her head swim and encouraged her to make it into a show. She ran her tongue up and down the shaft and swirled it around the head, looking up into the guy's eyes. Forcing herself all the way down on him, she gagged and choked numerous times. The crowd loved it, and she loved doing it. And clearly the guy was enjoying it, as she could feel him moaning, and soon his cock started to swell and jerk. She knew where she wanted his cum and so did Sir.
"Why'd you stop, little slut?"
Deep breath. She could do this.
"Because I want him to cum on my face, Sir."
He smiled down at her, she felt it in his hand on her shoulder since she just kept staring at the guy's twitching cock.
"You heard her, buddy. Go for it."
The crowd erupted into a chant.
"Cum! Cum! Cum!"
The guy apparently felt not at all embarrassed as he stroked his cock furiously in her face until his warm, sticky cum sprayed out onto her. It hit her forehead, cheeks, chin, and got into her hair, it dripped down onto her tits spilling out of her top, and also onto her blouse.
Some drunken guy pushed his way in front of her and started to undo his pants.
"My turn. Open up, sweetie."
Sir pushed him back, gently but firmly.
"In your dreams, pal. She didn't ask to see yours. Besides, we don't have a magnifying glass... or a microscope."
The crowd laughed loudly and taunted the drunk, pulling him back into the crowd. When they calmed a bit, Sir spoke again.
"Well, I think she enjoyed that as much as he did. How'd you like to check?"
He pointed to a women at the front of the crowd who was obviously enjoying the show. The woman instantly dropped down in front of her and shoved a hand between her legs. She was dripping wet and the woman told the crowd. Then, with lust in her eyes, the woman leaned forward and kissed her deeply as she worked a finger, then two, into her. The man's cum smeared their faces as they kissed, and the woman's fingers worked in and out of her fast and hard.
Oh God, she was about to cum. She had to stop (Rule #1 – Your pleasure is Sir's and Sir's alone.). She pulled away from the woman and looked up at Sir. He knew instantly why. He helped the woman up.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Then he held up the woman's hand, glistening in her juices.
"And that's definitely a yes about her enjoying it, too."
Everyone laughed and cheered as she tried to calm herself down a little. He looked down at her with his hand on her shoulder.
"Such a naughty girl. And what happens to naughty girls?" he asked the crowd.
"They get spanked!" about half the crowd responded.
"No, please Sir. Please don't spank me. I'll be good, I promise. I promise to be a good girl from now on. Please Sir, no spanking. Not here. Please!"
She pleaded and begged the way she knew he wanted and the way he knew she wanted to.
"Too late for that. You heard them. Up over the stool, naughty girl."
He helped her up by the arm and laid her over the bar stool. Now her ass was definitely exposed. Not enough apparently though, because he lifted up the short skirt to expose it fully.
"How many do you think? Five? Ten? Twenty?"
The cheers got louder as the number went up. Thankfully, he stopped at twenty. She wasn't sure she could last that many and was sure, at this point, she'd cum if he gave her more.
His hand came down hard on her bare ass making a loud slap even in the noisy bar. As she suspected, there'd be no warm up this time, just a serious spanking.
"ONE!" cried the crowd.
On they went, a smack, a shout, and, though no one could hear it, a moan from deep inside her. She had to concentrate hard to keep herself focused and not let herself get carried away with what was happening. It was all coming true. Her every fantasy and desire, right here, right now. She lost count as her head started swirling. She was barely coherent enough to hear the crowd shout "Twenty! Yeah!"
Her bottom burned, and she was sure the people behind her saw a bright red ass as he rubbed his hand over the sensitive skin. Then, as she thought he might (hoped?) his fingers slipped between her legs and into her soaking wet pussy. She moaned loudly enough for some of the people near her to hear, and they laughed. He pulled his fingers out and showed them to the crowd.
"Well, that didn't seem to help. Only one thing left to do."
"Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!"
The crowd went crazy as he pulled his cock out and thrust it into her in one hard stroke, slamming his hips against her sore ass. The way he grabbed her hips and slammed into her, he was obviously as turned on as she was. She was glad because she wasn't going to last long like this. She felt it building fast inside her.
"Please Sir, please may I cum. Please may I cum on your fat, hard cock. Please Sir!"
He leaned down and grabbed her hair, pulling her head up and whispering in her ear.
"Do it, my beautiful little slut, cum for me now, right here, in front of all these people."
That did it, his pumping in and out of her, pulling her hair, reminding her that she was in public (as if she needed it). Her insides exploded, twisting and writhing and pulsing and she screamed out loud like a beast just as he let go of her hair and pulled her hips onto his cock, filling her with his cum and grunting like a wild animal too.
He gave her no time to recover. He put his cock into his pants, zipped up, and picked her up, carrying her out of the bar. The crowd seemed just a little disappointed as they made their way out to back slaps and offers polite and quite the opposite. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him remembering the most important rule.
Rule #13 – You go home with Sir and only Sir.
Dammit, there were so many rules to remember that she was sure she'd mess up a hundred times before the night was over. And he had said something about punishment being severe and immediate. He had given her a chance to get out of it, even a chance to renegotiate the rules and punishments, but she had declined. This, strict and rigid discipline, was exactly what she wanted. More than that, it was exactly what she had needed for so very long.
But was she really ready for it? He had shown her that she could be a perfect little slut in private, shown that to her beyond her wildest fantasies. And he had assured her that he wouldn't have offered to take her out in public in this role if he wasn't absolutely sure she could do it. Still, she wondered. Her head swam with all the new rules, and she felt like everyone, absolutely everyone, was looking at her.
Yes, she was dressed kind of slutty (Rule #3 – Dress exactly as instructed.) but no more than some of the other women out tonight. She felt a little trashy compared to him in his jeans (that fit him Oh So Well), white oxford shirt, and dark sport coat but he had prepared her for that. Then she thought, maybe it was actually him that was causing all of the people to look at her. She hated that. She didn't care that he was older than her, why should they?
Okay, so the way he held her hand (Rule #6 – Always walk on his left side. Rule #12 – Never let go of his hand unless and until he tells me to.), always held her hand, and how he kissed her forehead whenever they stopped at a crosswalk (Rule #4 – Say thank you for any display of affection.) left no question as to their relationship.
But he wasn't that much older. Not like her dad or anything. Well, not quite anyway. And she was particularly glad he was with her and holding her hand now. This was not a nice part of town. Not that it was exactly dangerous but you heard stories.
Stories, she thought; it was stories that had gotten her into this situation in the first place. She had always been a little uncomfortable with how much she thought about sex, and the kinds of sex she thought about. She had met some people online that had helped her get over most of the shame and the guilt but, once in a while, she still felt like a bit of a freak.
Then she met him. He made her feel okay - actually, more than okay, good - about being a freak, about being what and who she was. Then he made her feel safe, protected, and secure, right before he terrified her in exactly the way she'd always wanted to be.
And she was terrified now. He glanced over at her. Was that a look? What was she forgetting? Then he smiled. Whew. Just messing with her... again. He stopped, turned towards her, and brushed her hair behind her ear.
"Are you ready? Absolutely sure you want this? This is your last chance to stop without using your safe word. What is your safe word?"
"Martini."
It was instinctual. He checked in with her often in the early days of their time together. It had become so ingrained that she thought it whenever she was scared, in our out of a scene.
He cocked his head, waiting for her confirmation. She nodded, a solid, definite yes. She was more than ready; she was anxious.
He turned back and led her another half block to a pretty seedy looking bar: chipped paint on the door, loud people inside, lots of neon signs. It was not the kind of place she'd ever go into on her own. But he was here, and this is where he would make her darkest fantasy come true. He opened the door and told her to let go of his hand.
She did, and he slapped her hard on the ass, almost knocking her into the place.
The calls started immediately. A dozen men and a few women whistling and calling her "hot" and "sexy" and things she hadn't heard used in public before. She paused and felt his hand on her shoulder. He was there, so she was okay. She was offered drinks and lewd sexual acts several times as they worked their way to the back of the bar. She just shook her head (Rule #5 – Do not speak to anyone but him.) and kept moving. When they got to the very opposite end of the bar, he squeezed her shoulder and they stopped. He leaned down and spoke into her ear above the noisy crowd.
"What would you like to drink?"
She smiled, figuring out his real purpose was to give her an opportunity to use her safe word.
"Tequila, please, Sir." (Rule #2 – As always, he is Sir with a capital S.)
His eyebrows raised and he smiled. She knew that would throw him a bit. But she wanted a little help with her courage. And she knew this would be her only drink. He was firm about people being completely in control of themselves during play.
He ordered her drink and a rum and coke for himself. He made sure both were top shelf, which was rare in this kind of place, both because he wanted them to have a decent drink and to get a little extra attention in the bustling bar. He insured the ploy by tipping big. The attention was quick to materialize.
"Hey sweetcheeks, why don't you send grandpa home to bed and hang out with someone more fun."
How rude! No one spoke like that about him! The guy wasn't even cute. But she checked herself (Rule #7 – Let him handle it.) and just looked at him blankly. He definitely handled it.
"Because she deserves someone smart enough to wear shirts that button. Now push off, junior, before the bartender realizes you just swiped his tip."
The bartender glared at the rude boy and called over the bouncer. Rude boy argued he hadn't taken anything, but his appearance and behavior and Sir's big tip won out over his protests.
She sipped her drink as he laughed with the bartender. Then someone bumped into her and she glanced back at them.
"Hey, I saw that." His voice was firm but not mean. "Checking out other guys while I'm standing right here? What do you think you're doing?"
She stammered an apology, begging and pleading that she wasn't checking anyone out. That he had bumped into her. (Rule #9 – Always be explicit and specific.) She was terrified, just like he knew she’d be and just like she wanted. And people were paying attention too, lots of people, just like she wanted.
"Yeah right. Look, if you want to see his dick, just ask. I'm sure he'll show it to you. Won't you buddy?"
"Hell yes!"
The crowd that had formed taunted and cheered. Women hooted and guys yelled and one obviously gay man loudly stated that if she didn't want to see it, he did.
"Go on, say it. Go ahead."
(Rule #10 – Do what you're told.) She blushed furiously and mumbled something incoherent.
"Oh, c'mon, you'll have to do better than that."
She could feel herself blush and she looked directly at the floor while she asked if she could see his penis. That's the word she used... on purpose, knowing what reaction it would bring.
"Penis? Are you kidding me? Guys have cocks and that's what you're longing to see, isn't it? Isn't it?"
"Yes, Sir. (Remember Rule #9.) I want to see his cock."
The man pulled out his cock to the loud cheers of the entire bar.
"Well, here it is, beautiful. What do you think?"
She couldn't help but look. She didn't think she could blush anymore but she did. It was bigger than Sir's, longer and thicker. The man showing it wasn't fully hard but he was definitely getting that way.
"Well, I think she wants to suck it... right here, right now. Don't deny it. I can see in your face how much you want it."
Should she respond? Could she respond? She was close to hyperventilating, though whether out of embarrassment, fear, or excitement, she wasn't at all sure. Still, she was sure he wanted her to say it out loud.
"Yes, I want to suck his cock."
"Well, get down there and get to it then."
Oh God. She fell to her knees as much out of almost passing out as out of obeying his command. She was about to reach out and grab the guy's cock when she stopped herself (Rule #11 – And ONLY what you're told.). He'd said suck, nothing about touching it with her hands. So she put her hands behind her back and opened her mouth, wrapping it around the man's thick, hard cock and taking as much as she could.
"Good girl, very good girl," he said in her ear, leaning down. She knew he was also getting a closer look at her face to make sure she was still okay.
The man's cock filled her mouth and throat as she moved her head back and forth. The crowd's cheers made her head swim and encouraged her to make it into a show. She ran her tongue up and down the shaft and swirled it around the head, looking up into the guy's eyes. Forcing herself all the way down on him, she gagged and choked numerous times. The crowd loved it, and she loved doing it. And clearly the guy was enjoying it, as she could feel him moaning, and soon his cock started to swell and jerk. She knew where she wanted his cum and so did Sir.
"Why'd you stop, little slut?"
Deep breath. She could do this.
"Because I want him to cum on my face, Sir."
He smiled down at her, she felt it in his hand on her shoulder since she just kept staring at the guy's twitching cock.
"You heard her, buddy. Go for it."
The crowd erupted into a chant.
"Cum! Cum! Cum!"
The guy apparently felt not at all embarrassed as he stroked his cock furiously in her face until his warm, sticky cum sprayed out onto her. It hit her forehead, cheeks, chin, and got into her hair, it dripped down onto her tits spilling out of her top, and also onto her blouse.
Some drunken guy pushed his way in front of her and started to undo his pants.
"My turn. Open up, sweetie."
Sir pushed him back, gently but firmly.
"In your dreams, pal. She didn't ask to see yours. Besides, we don't have a magnifying glass... or a microscope."
The crowd laughed loudly and taunted the drunk, pulling him back into the crowd. When they calmed a bit, Sir spoke again.
"Well, I think she enjoyed that as much as he did. How'd you like to check?"
He pointed to a women at the front of the crowd who was obviously enjoying the show. The woman instantly dropped down in front of her and shoved a hand between her legs. She was dripping wet and the woman told the crowd. Then, with lust in her eyes, the woman leaned forward and kissed her deeply as she worked a finger, then two, into her. The man's cum smeared their faces as they kissed, and the woman's fingers worked in and out of her fast and hard.
Oh God, she was about to cum. She had to stop (Rule #1 – Your pleasure is Sir's and Sir's alone.). She pulled away from the woman and looked up at Sir. He knew instantly why. He helped the woman up.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Then he held up the woman's hand, glistening in her juices.
"And that's definitely a yes about her enjoying it, too."
Everyone laughed and cheered as she tried to calm herself down a little. He looked down at her with his hand on her shoulder.
"Such a naughty girl. And what happens to naughty girls?" he asked the crowd.
"They get spanked!" about half the crowd responded.
"No, please Sir. Please don't spank me. I'll be good, I promise. I promise to be a good girl from now on. Please Sir, no spanking. Not here. Please!"
She pleaded and begged the way she knew he wanted and the way he knew she wanted to.
"Too late for that. You heard them. Up over the stool, naughty girl."
He helped her up by the arm and laid her over the bar stool. Now her ass was definitely exposed. Not enough apparently though, because he lifted up the short skirt to expose it fully.
"How many do you think? Five? Ten? Twenty?"
The cheers got louder as the number went up. Thankfully, he stopped at twenty. She wasn't sure she could last that many and was sure, at this point, she'd cum if he gave her more.
His hand came down hard on her bare ass making a loud slap even in the noisy bar. As she suspected, there'd be no warm up this time, just a serious spanking.
"ONE!" cried the crowd.
On they went, a smack, a shout, and, though no one could hear it, a moan from deep inside her. She had to concentrate hard to keep herself focused and not let herself get carried away with what was happening. It was all coming true. Her every fantasy and desire, right here, right now. She lost count as her head started swirling. She was barely coherent enough to hear the crowd shout "Twenty! Yeah!"
Her bottom burned, and she was sure the people behind her saw a bright red ass as he rubbed his hand over the sensitive skin. Then, as she thought he might (hoped?) his fingers slipped between her legs and into her soaking wet pussy. She moaned loudly enough for some of the people near her to hear, and they laughed. He pulled his fingers out and showed them to the crowd.
"Well, that didn't seem to help. Only one thing left to do."
"Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!"
The crowd went crazy as he pulled his cock out and thrust it into her in one hard stroke, slamming his hips against her sore ass. The way he grabbed her hips and slammed into her, he was obviously as turned on as she was. She was glad because she wasn't going to last long like this. She felt it building fast inside her.
"Please Sir, please may I cum. Please may I cum on your fat, hard cock. Please Sir!"
He leaned down and grabbed her hair, pulling her head up and whispering in her ear.
"Do it, my beautiful little slut, cum for me now, right here, in front of all these people."
That did it, his pumping in and out of her, pulling her hair, reminding her that she was in public (as if she needed it). Her insides exploded, twisting and writhing and pulsing and she screamed out loud like a beast just as he let go of her hair and pulled her hips onto his cock, filling her with his cum and grunting like a wild animal too.
He gave her no time to recover. He put his cock into his pants, zipped up, and picked her up, carrying her out of the bar. The crowd seemed just a little disappointed as they made their way out to back slaps and offers polite and quite the opposite. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him remembering the most important rule.
Rule #13 – You go home with Sir and only Sir.
Kaylin
- 26.11.2021
- 25
- 0
- Category:
- BDSM
