Demanding dinner partner, the indomitable Mistress T
She had ordered for both of them with wicked delight, a tiny starter portion for him—barely a few bites of something delicate—and plain water, while she savored a flute of chilled bubbly that sparkled like her cruelty.
When the waiter approached with their drinks and the minuscule plate, she pressed the sharp toe of her boot down hard, squashing his balls against the seat. He bit the inside of his cheek to stay silent, face flushing as the waiter set everything down, oblivious.
Once the man turned away, she leaned forward, pursed her lips, and very discreetly spat onto his small portion—once, twice—watching the saliva glisten briefly before sinking in. “Eat up, pet,” she whispered, eyes gleaming. “Wouldn’t want your little treat to go to waste.”
She had purposefully worn a low-cut top under her jacket, and now was taking full advantage of it to tease and torment the simpering boy opposite her. The starched white linen of the tablecloth seemed to highlight her eminence even more, throwing into sharp relief her beauty and her inherent personal and sexual prowess.
Before the waiter returned, she had placed her booted foot on his crotch, feeling and teasing the shape of his hard, stiff cock. She had giggled upon feeling it and even more so in assessing his reaction. Her main course arrived, but he received nothing more to eat. She withdrew her boot and instructed him to take it out under the table, he would keep his cock exposed for the rest of the meal. Their discreet alcove allowed this.
Surreptitiously he had unzipped his trousers. Eager for release his cock sprang out as he pulled down the peach statin panties she had made him wear for the occasion. He felt his pre-cum on making them all wet. She had then mercilessly teased and edged his cock more with her boot, on the strict condition he was not to cum.
He marvelled at what his domme girlfriend was doing. The other clientele in the restaurant were oblivious. He wondered whether any of them could guess at the perversion taking place near them, emanating from this seemingly respectful-looking pair. Other than her sleek leather knee boots, she was dressed quite smartly—black jeans hugging her legs, a tight sexy top that clung just enough to accentuate every curve, all of it polished and understated, the perfect disguise for her mean meal entertainment.
She was an artist and pioneer in her field, who enjoyed and exploited the inherent perversions latent in him. He was her slave and would do anything for her. There was nothing he would not do. He thought of himself later in the afternoon, on all fours and naked, with her astride him, ready to debase and abuse him further for her pleasure.
When the dessert menu came she instructed him to order the chocolate brownie. She then told him to go to the toilet and jerk off. He had to collect his cum on some toilet paper, return to the table with it and daub it over his brownie.
“Bon appétit,” she giggled in that irreverent laugh of hers.
by slave P & MSVB
An excellent and interesting short tale. Would love to have been the sub having that meal.