The fingers of your left hand have slowly been digging into your thigh for the past twenty minutes or so. We’re at our favourite Italian restaurant, out for our monthly date-night. And I’ve been waging a silent war on you ... I’m wearing a very pretty, pretty short dress that shows off my boobs and cleavage that you’ve been not so covertly staring at all everything. May be even more after I told you what I’m not wearing underneath just before the starter arrived at the table.

I’ve been teasing you.

So. Much.

You know that’s why I chose this dress.

That’s why I told you I’m not wearing underwear underneath my tights.

That’s why I told you I’m wearing something else, but not where I’m wearing it...

That’s why I’ve been leaning forward inappropriately.

That’s why I’ve been leaning in to every innuendo and suggestive euphemism I could come up with.

Stroking your legs under the table with mine...

Slowly licking sauce off my spoon...

After we finish our food and are sipping our drinks you shoot me a look that dares me to order dessert.

You have other plans.

And the glint of danger in your eyes sends shivers of anticipation down my spine and between my legs...

We pay and as we get up to leave I bend down to pick up my bag in a way that pulls up the fabric of the dress and lets you almost glimpse what it is desperately trying to hide...

I hear your stifled moan-turned-growl. As we leave the restaurant you sling your arm around me and firmly guide me towards the car. No dawdling.

With a wicked smile and no protest I climb in on the passenger side. By now I’m already wet with anticipation and wonder whether you’ll do anything in the car.

I put my seat belt on and sort myself out and as you pull out of the car park I spread my legs a little more than natural or necessary ... slightly pull up the dress ... an invitation...

With a set jaw you stubbornly look ahead, but I know exactly that you see what I’ve done from the corner if your eye...

Your hands on the wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

We arrive home.

You open the car door for me and offer your hand to help me out of the car. We walk to the front door and you unlock with deliberate movements.

Let me walk in first.

Close the door.

Lock it.

As I’ve just hung my coat up you grab me, tightly.

“You little minx...!” You growl, softly and with loving menace “I have you now, and it’s my turn”

Another wicked smile on my lips “Yes, my love” I whisper as I arch my back and rub my butt against you.

Your hand slides down my back, over my bum and squeezes one cheek while the other finds a boob and does the same.

I gasp at the delicious feeling of pleasurable pain - you always hit that sweet spot...

You pull the dress over my head.

I’m wearing a peekaboo bra in original-sin red and a set of new nipple jewelry, that you haven’t seen yet, and that has one strand going down, clipped to my clit.

“Happy date night” I sweetly tease again, and you give a little yank to the chain leading to the nipples, I gasp again.

“You’ve been such a tease all night” you whisper as you slide your arms around me and kiss along my neck up to my ear

“I’m going to have to make this worth it...” and you nip my earlobe just hard enough to make me gasp again.

“Whatever you want, my love” I say as I reach for your crotch...

With a sudden movement you spin me around and push my torso down on the cold glass top of the dining room table.

The blinds on the windows are still open...

The jewellery clatters softly and I gasp and try to get up again, away from the cold, but you push me down

“Stay there!” You command firmly, threateningly.

“Yes dominus” I say, heart beating with nerves and excitement.

I hear you heading upstairs, taking two steps at once. Moments later you’re back, and immediately slide a blindfold over my eyes.

My heart beats faster.

I know the blinds are open...

You cuff my hands to the table legs on the long side, spreading my arms wide. You rub yourself up against my bum, then push my feet apart and attach a spreader bar at my ankles. Everything is tense and stretched because I’m still wearing my heels.

You run your hands over my back”Is anything too tight or digging in anywhere?”

“No, Dominus” I say.

“Good” and I know that is the last word I’ll hear for a while.

You don’t bother taking the tights off, you just tear them apart, wet as they are they offer little resistance. You reach through between my legs and pull the long end of the chain connecting to my clit down further so it hangs loosely - teasingly tugging a few times in the process, eliciting soft moans and gasps from me.

The blinds are still open...

I feel your large hands on my cheeks, spreading and kneading.

I can only guess that you’re kneeling behind me, watching as your thumbs slide over the wet, pink flesh, gently spreading and displaying everything.

This massaging, this type of touching without touching goes on for what feels like ages, and I know this is payback.

It feels good, so damn good! But all too quickly it isn’t enough any more. I moan and whimper and move do get more from your fingers. My labia must be swollen with arousal, I can feel my whole vulva aching for more touch.

You softly yank on the chain and I gasp, almost crying with want.

Then I feel your hands glide around my torso, grabbing my boobs.

Gripping them, pinching the nipples.

I moan and whimper and moan some more as you lick my ear.

With the blinds still open...

I stand there, bent forward on the table, ass in the air, spread out and dripping, aching for more, moaning and sighing under your touch as you take your time with my nipples.