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At the Restaurant
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At the Restaurant Dinner was good. Waiting for the plates to be cleared and waiting for our check, I lean across the table. “Come closer,” I whisper. You lean towards me for a kiss but I stop you with a hand at your chin. “You are very pretty, I say. “I love your skin. I love your hair.” Gently, but strong enough to convey authority, I squeeze your chin and direct your gaze straight into my eyes. I whisper instructions, “This is what I want you to do. I want you to go to the restroom and remove your panties. Then you are going to come back and sit next to me.” I watch as you slide out to the booth. I watch your ass as it moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You are so fine to me. When you arrive back, you slide yourself across my waist and sit down between me and the wall. I look down and see the bottom of your dress crossing your thighs just above your knees. I look out on the restaurant and see no one close enough to pay any attention to so I turn back to you. “Look at me.” I tell you. “Kiss me.” As your face gets closer, my hand grabs your chin again and I stop you. “Did you do as I asked? Were you a good girl?” “Yes,” you respond softly. “Where are they?” I ask. “Give them to me.” I command. Your hand comes up and balled like a fist from under the table. You open your hand and drop your panties in my hand. “Very good,” I say. “Were you a good girl and make them wet?” You tremble not knowing the answer and hoping to say the right one. You are wet. You remember just standing in the small bathroom stall and pulling your panties down but you do not know if any of you had leaked on the fabric. “Yes,” you tremble. I take your panties and unfold them in my lap. I glance around again to make sure no one can see. The fabric is lacy and delicate. The color is black. Sure enough, when I find the spot that held your flower, my thumb crosses a dark spot slippery. I turn my face to yours and lift the balled panties in my fist. I breathe them in. “Very good,” I say. “You’ve been a good girl. Now sit back.” l reach my hand under the table and find the boney parts of your knees. Slowly, I pull your dress up, my fingers moving over the soft and warm skin of your inner thighs. You part your legs for me and then lean toward me to whisper, “I shaved and trimmed it for you today.” Instantly, I convey to you that I am not pleased. I stare hard into your eyes. “Shhhh!” I say, “I did not tell you to speak. It was nice of you to prepare yourself, but you have been bad for speaking. You have just earned yourself a hard<b> spanking.</font></b>” You want to say something back. You want to defend yourself. You want to be bent over wherever the<b> spanking </font></b>will occur. I am never mean and it never hurts more than you like it. From the kitchen will I remove a wooden cooking spoon or something else from the utensils drawer? In front room will I take off your dress and tell you to bury your hands and face in the chair? Or will it happen on the bed? Your abdomen contracts and your heart begins to race. Your arms and legs tremble. You want to speak but know better. I move my hand deeper under your dress until I find the source of your warmth. Your thighs are sticky and you part them further. As a waitress arrives to remove our dishes I tell you, “Don’t move. Be still. Be quiet.” As the waitress does her thing and hands me the check, my gaze is fixed the whole time on her eyes. She doesn’t look at you and doesn’t care that you were once sitting there but now are here. Before she leaves I give her a card. When she leaves, I move my fingers deeper. Your lips slicken and wet. At the top of your pussy my fingers find a hard button. “Relax for just a minute.” I whisper. You lean back further and slide forward on the bench. I rub you until your juices begin to flow and you moan. I abruptly stop and pinch your inner thigh. “I told you to be quiet.” I whisper. You tremble at the thought of earning another spanking, but the thought only makes you wetter. You know that when you receive correction it always ends well. I find your clit again. The fear of getting caught adds to your in intensity. I look to my left and see the waitress across the room working the cash register. I push my finger into you one more time and then pull my hand out from under the table. You pull your dress down and look into my eyes. They are full and wanting. I put my finger to your mouth and trace your lower lip. You open your mouth and suck my finger. “Are you ready for a real dessert?” I ask. You sigh and grab my bicep. “Yes baby, I can’t wait,” you say. The waitress approaches and you blush. To keep from trembling, you grab my bicep with both hands. The waitress and I settled the bill. I stare into her eyes wondering if she has a clue what I had just been doing with the same hand that held the receipt. I wondered if she could smell your aroma. And when she leaves, you catch me stealing a glance at her ass. You squeeze my arm knowing that yours is the only pussy I want. “My pussy wants you.” You whisper in my ear. “I know baby.” I say. “Let’s go. You are getting it good tonight but first you’ve earned yourself a good<b> spanking.</font></b>” |
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