“Oh no thank you, he won’t be having any water.” My wife says pleasantly to the waitress just as she was about to pour water in my glass.
“Very well. Your waitress will be here shortly.” The young hostess replied as she took my glass with her.
I felt uncomfortable, and a little humiliated. I could feel a twinge of anger well within me. I was quite thirsty after following my wife around the mall for the last 2 hours carrying her bags. I thought I was really good today and deserved at least a glass of water.
I watched as she brought the glass of cold water nonchalantly to her lips. My throat was made drier by my discomfort. She was glancing over her menu as she took a healthy drink and returned the lipstick stained glass back on the table. Damn that looks so refreshing.
“How are you doing bitch?” she asks casually.
“Ok ma’am. But I am really thirsty ma’am” I reply.
“Is your corset too tight?”
“Yes ma’am. It’s very uncomfortable.” I said.
“Sucks to be you.” she says with a gleam in her eye and a wry smile.
“Oh, the blackened chicken salad looks good. I think I’ll have that.” She says as she keeps looking over the menu, seeing if anything will be more to her liking.
I look at the menu and decide on the tortellini alfredo and iced tea”
She makes small talk with me while we’re waiting for the waitress; a tantalizing mix of benign conversation interspersed with things that put a lump in my throat, or humiliates me, or increases my arousal. Of course the cruel mix is completely at her whim. She plays with my mind like a toy and twists my emotions like a wash rag; I’m very much her little rag doll.
I am so fucking turned on I can barely think straight. I desperately crave her. I desperately need her. She likes it that way; she say’s it makes me compliant. God I really really really need to cum!
When the waitress returns she asks my wife what she’d like.
“I’ll have the blackened chicken salad and iced tea.” She states.
“And for you?” She says as she turns toward me.
“Oh, he won’t be eating.” My wife states in the same matter of fact manner.
I hand the menu to the waitress trying not to show her my distress but I can clearly feel my face becoming flush and that strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. The waitress seemed a little confused as she took my menu.
“But I’m really hungry.” I blurt out like a child when the waitress is out of hearing range.
My wife reaches over and grabs my hand lovingly in hers. She leans forward in her chair so that her face is over the table. I lean over the table and look into her striking green eyes. She caresses my hand as she stares into my eyes for a few seconds. I feel myself growing breathless as I her beauty begins to overwhelm me. I suppress a gasp when I feel the heel of her boot pressing into the top of my soft loafer. Her face reveals nothing of what is going on under the table.
She gazes deeply into my eyes and lovingly whispers, “You’re my BITCH. You eat when I allow you to eat, not when you’re hungry. You drink when I allow you to drink, not when you’re thirsty. You’re pouting like a child and I will have none of that. You’re lucky to be sitting here with me and not locked to the fucking bike rack. And for not finish your sentence with ma’am or mistress you’ll get another 3 days in your belt. Is there any part of this you don’t understand?”
Her soft green eyes gaze lovingly into mine as she softly caresses my closed hand. The heel of her boot grinds into the tender flesh on the top of my foot through the soft loafer.
“No, no eh ma’am.” I say with as much dignity as I can muster as I feel myself starting to sweat.
She scrapes her heel across the top of my foot before releasing me from my misery, as always making it worse before making it better. I can’t believe how effortless it is for her to cause me so much pain and discomfort.
I find myself feeling very awkward as I watch the waitress return with my wife’s salad.
“Are you sure your husband won’t be having anything?” she asks with a smile on her face. I believe she has clearly figured out who is in charge, and to what degree.
“No thank you.” She replies.
“Enjoy your lunch then.” She says as she walks away.
I see her standing over at the waitress stations with another young waitress, clearly staring straight at me. As I try to avert my gaze I notice she’s doing her best to stifle a laugh. I can feel her stare long after I shyly turn away from her. I can feel my face flush and I just wanted to crawl under the table; little did I know I would soon get that chance.
At one point, while bringing a forkful of lettuce up to her lips she accidentally drops the contents of her fork on the floor.
“You can eat that if you’d like.”
“Uhm, no thank you ma’am.” I reply.
“Eat it.” She states coldly.
I try to be as discrete as I possibly can as I reach down under the table and grab the scraps off the carpet; damn this is humiliating. As I drop under the table, I see her step onto the two pieces of lettuce. I waited for what seemed an eternity for her to tilt the heel of her foot back and pivot the soul of her boot to the side so I could grab the lettuce. I could see pieces of who-knows-what sticking to the vinaigrette covered lettuce.
“What’s Mark doing today.” She asks as I was getting back in my seat.
“He’s playing golf with Pete. I think the guys are going to go to 3rd Street to watch the game this afternoon. I was invited to watch the game with them.” I say just before I put the pieces of the disgusting lettuce in my mouth, hoping no one is seeing what I’m going through. I had to stifle my gag reflexes as I felt the filth from the lettuce roll around in my mouth.
“You did a good job ironing my blouse this morning.” She says as I glance over and see a very attractive woman laughing as she tells something to her friend while looking over at us.
“Thank you ma’am.” I meekly reply.
“So you want to go have a couple beers with the guys?”
“Oh, that reminds me; you need some new pantyhose don’t you?” she asks nonchalantly as she continues to eat her salad.
“Uhh, yes ma’am.” I meekly reply.
“Is that yes ma’am you want to go have a beer with the guys, or yes ma’am you need new pantyhose?” she asks, seemingly a little incensed.
“Yes ma’am to both.” I can feel myself blush.
“Well when were you going to ask me?”
“Um, I wasn’t ma’am.”
“Well you don’t get anything unless you ask.”
“May I please go out and watch football with the guy’s ma’am.” I ask meekly.
She tilts her head and stairs into my soul while holding a fork filled with food.
“And may I please have a new pair of pantyhose?
She had to choke back a giggle.
It’s awkward enough to sit with someone while they’re eating. My wife is a master at adding to and manipulating that awkwardness to put me exactly in the mental state she wants me in. I can honestly say I was definitely not comfortable being where I was, but at the same time I was extremely turned on. My wife nonchalantly fingers the key to my chastity belt hanging from her necklace for a second, just long enough to let me know she knows I’m exactly what she’s doing to me.
”Well tell you what stud, we’ll make you all pretty for drinking beer with the guys. Fuck the pantyhose, we’re going to get you silk stockings girlfriend. You know the kind with the seam that runs up the back. Would you like that stud?”
“No ma’am.” I could feel myself getting sick.
“Of course not stud, you need a garter belt to hold the stockings up. And because it’s a special night out with the guys, we’ll get you a hot new pair of panties. You know I’m a little softie, I’ll just keep showering you with gifts until you’re happy.” She say’s with a big smile on her face.
“Um no, I mean yes. I mean yes I would love that ma’am.”
“I bet you would. But everything has a price. Two more days without an orgasm is a fair price for a pair of sexy stockings and panties. Personally I think men who wear women’s lingerie are pathetic, but who am I to judge. I just couldn’t see a man like Mark in a pair of seamed stockings could you?”
“No. No ma’am.” I meekly replied.
“I wonder what would happen to Donna if she ever tried to tell Mark he had to dress like a little sissy before going out with the guys. She probably wouldn’t be able to sit for a week after he tanned her ass and fucked her raw.”
She takes a bite of her salad and stares straight into my soul.
“I’m going to tan your ass before you do your man thing bitch.” She states bluntly with a wry smile.
I can feel my stomach and throat tighten
She has finished about 2/3 of her salad. All the chicken is gone and she’s more or less picking at her salad while she manipulates me. When she’s done she drops the fork on her plate and balls the napkin on the table, clearly signaling the waitress that she’s done with the food. My wife looks down at her shirt, takes a strand of hair and places it on top of the remaining salad. I almost gag on the spot. If there’s one thing that I cannot stand is hair on my food, or even on the kitchen table.
The waitress walks by and goes to grab her plate, “Let me take that for you.”
My wife grabs her hand and stops her. “We’re not done with that yet. Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asks, somewhat startled, more intrigued.
“No thank you.”
As the waitress walks away my wife picks up her plate, discreetly places a large amount of spit on the salad and places the plate in front of me. I look down to see the unappetizing remnants of her salad covered in spit, hair and what appears to be a pubic hair. How did the pubic hair get in there? What else did she put in here that I missed?
“It’s yummy.” She states.
“What time’s your game stud?”
“Um, kickoff is at 5.00 ma’am.” I reply, staring at a fork full of salad and a piece of hair trying not to gag.
“Well eat up bitch, we don’t have much time. We have to get your sexy lingerie and get you home in time to shave your legs.”
“Shave my legs!” I blurt out in an angry tone.
“Yes, shave your legs.” She coos with a sexy smile. “And paint your toenails hot fuck-me red to match your panties. Any other questions stud?”
“No, no ma’am.” I meekly reply stuffing the hair covered, spit covered lettuce in my mouth.
The waitress returns and hands my wife the check. “I’ll take care of that when you’re ready.”
As my wife grabs her wallet from her purse I yelp and almost jump out of my chair. I can’t help but to reach down and try to grab my recently electrocuted manhood. Did she do that on purpose or did she accidentally hit the remote as she was fumbling in her purse? I’m sweating and I notice everyone in earshot is staring at me. I get absolutely no clue as she places her bank card in the folder like nothing else just happened. No sorry, no oops, absolutely no hint from her that anything in the world just happened; to her what just happened was as inconsequential as moving her tube of lipstick.
While we were waiting for the waitress to pick up the credit card my wife made small talk while I finished the salad.
“Did you wash the skirt I wore Thursday?”
“Have it washed and ironed before Monday.”
Just then the waitress walks up from behind me and picks up the check. I know she had to have heard that.
“Do you have any more of your allowance left?” my wife asks as the waitress is leaving.
“I have thirty cents ma’am.”
“Would you like to earn 5 bucks before the game stud?”
“What would I have to do ma’am?” I ask with trepidation.
“Just take it up the ass and give me a blow job.”
“Can I give you a blow job first ma’am?” I ask.
“You’ve already made the sale whore, but sure – you can do that too. I am so going to fuck you raw whore. I’m going to get my five dollars worth.” She says with a sadistic smile and a twinkle in her eye.
She picks up her water glass and drinks most of the remaining water, leaving barely a sip. I watched her as she accumulated a large amount of spit in her mouth. She raised the glass in her mouth and watched her as she deposited a large amount of spit into glass. She tilted her head and fluttered her eyes as she handed me the glass. Damn she was hot.
“Still thirsty whore?”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you.” I said as I took the glass from her.
I washed down the salad with a mouthful of water and spit as my beautiful wife stared me down.
“You’ll be home at 7 tonight and not a moment before; I don’t want you to disturb me. I will need my personal assistant to help me get ready for going out clubbing with the girls.”
“Are you going to wear the stuff you bought today ma’am?” I asked timidly.
“You really don’t have a right to ask such a question but, yes. Oh…” she exclaimed, “You must have thought I was buying that hot leather skirt and those fuck-me pumps for you.” She said as she started giggling.
“Umm uh, yes ma’am I did.” I said dejectedly.
“Such a silly boy. While I’m out you can attend to all your maidly duties you’ve been neglecting all day.”
The waitress returned with the check and one mint chocolate.
“Have a wonderful day Mrs. Parker” She says as she places the bill before my wife.
After signing the check she promptly stands up, grabs the chocolate, and struts towards the door. I feel another jolt to my balls as I jump up and fumble around trying to grab all of her packages. I see the stares as I try in vain to catch up to the incredibly beautiful woman in front of me.