I agreed to meet him on Friday evening, after chatting and flirting and fantasizing with him online for weeks.

We'd agreed to a unique kind of first meeting. We would meet in public, but there was also the understanding that I would be obedient and subservient to him, within reason and comfort level.

And since we were going to be in public, I would be safe. Even more thrilling to me was that since we were going to be in public, anything he would want me to do for him would involve the thrill of possibility of discover and the humiliation of being observed.

By now, we knew what each other looked like through descriptions and photos, and I'd heard the low growl of his voice over the phone as well. Still, on the thin pretext of recognizing me, he had made it clear that he would choose what I would wear. We both knew it was about something else, and I wasn't about to object.

He had also said that I wasn't to drive to our meeting. I guessed he wanted to feel myself out in public in the outfit he chose for as much as possible, but I wasn't sure. I felt my heart beat thinking about it, though, which I suppose was a success already.

The thing was, the meeting was in two hours, and I still didn't know what that chosen outfit would be. He had said he would email me the details, and I was still waiting. I was pacing around my apartment, my faced flushes with nervous anticipation which was again, no doubt, his expert intention. I'd washed and dry-cleaned just about everything I owned, just in case. It sometimes made me nervous how I would fare against a man who knew how to push my buttons so well even before I had even met him.

Time was flowing by, and it was nearly the time I'd have to leave to get there on time. Maybe this was another reason I had to take transit – he wanted to worry about the schedule too. Finally, my phone sounded out, and I jumped across the room to snatch it up and read the text.

Fuck, he was good. I read the details quickly, striding into my room to fetch the items. I was so short of time that I was throwing the stuff on the bed as I read.

Heels, of course -- too damned high to be comfortable in. A push up bra, demi-cup – black or red. Check – my red VS lace number would do nicely. Matching panties – good thing I got the whole set, so the lace thong went on the pile. Stockings, patterned – I laughed nervously to myself, as I'd known it was a mistake to tell him about my fishnets.

I'd made myself a bet about the skirt – tight or not – and I won. The instructions called for a short skirt, but pleated and loose. With him, and me as well, I knew the possibility of exposure would win out over the purely visual appeal of something that hugged my ass.

On top, a white front-buttoning blouse, preferably cotton. OK, I had plenty of those, and I guess I also knew why he wanted a dark-coloured bra. Besides the visibility of my lingerie, buttons, just like zippers, left the thought and possibility of adjusting just now much skin to show. Next was a vest, which was confused me. I mean, I liked the vest I knew he was referring to – which was a tailored black vest that a kind of scooped profile I front and looked good on me – but it would kind of cover up any trace of the bra's colour though my top. Oh well, there was no time to over think this whole thing.

The last note indicated that I was to wear my normal amount of perfume but with red lipstick and lip gloss, I was to wear no perfume, and that I should wear large hoop earrings as my only jewelery. I smiled a moment at the nice, small touches and then got busy getting dressed. Once I was all together, complete down to the wet-look lip gloss, I threw my keys and wallet in a small clutch and rushed out.

Sitting there on the streetcar, I could tell that I was drawing a few eyes, but nothing too unusual. I had left a couple of buttons undone on the blouse but I didn't open it to my limit, never knowing what more he might want. The real excitement was in my mind. My thoughts were racing, jumping from one possibility to the next. Some of my guesses had me mentally begging for more, some had me blushing just at the thought of them, and others had me wondering just how far I would really go. My cheeks reddened just a bit more when I realized that my nipples were stiff, and that my pretty, fresh panties were already being moistened. I had to try and clear my mind, just looking out the window at the buildings and sidewalks flowing by.

I was so intentionally spaced out that I actually missed the right stop, so I had to walk back about three blocks. I was still fine for time, but it was really more walking than I wanted to do in those heels. I was getting more looks now, as the stocking and heels and flirty skirt were much more visible while I was walking. A couple of times I had to reach back and make sure a breeze didn't flip its hemline up.

I walked into the little coffee shop we'd chosen. It was busy and bustling and loud. The small tables, mostly with two seats each, were reasonably spaced apart but were nearly all taken. With a sigh of relief, I spotted him, sitting at a table right in the midst of everything, and I walked over eagerly. I couldn't believe how loud my heart was pounding.

"Hello, Nicole," he said with a confidant smile before I could even sit down. "I'm so glad you're on time, and dressed just how you should be. Please go get us both large caffe lattes, and get extra whipped cream on yours."

"Yes, of course," I stammered. He took control immediately and while it shouldn't have surprised me, it did catch me off guard.

I ordered the coffees, paid and waited for them, standing at the counter. I wondered if he was starting at my legs and the short skirt – I hoped so, but I didn't dare look around to check.

When the two cups were finally in my hands, I had to take another deep breath before approaching him once more. This time he stood as I approached, coming around the table to pull out my chair. I had a surprised moment of appreciation of his gentlemanly gesture, but then I felt just enough of a guiding tug on my skirt to pull it back, and I feel my bare ass cheeks come into contact with the cold wooden surface of the chair.

Without comment, he simply helped me ease in my chair, then returned to his own, sliding into his seat with a knowing smile curling his lips.

"It's lovely to see you in person, finally, Nicole. Seeing you in motion is all that I knew and hoped that it would be."

I was nearly speechless with nerves and excitement but I managed to thank him, return the complement honestly, and start a bit of generic small talk. He was dressed simply in black jeans, a gray t-shirt and a crisp black cotton shirt untucked over that. His scalp was shaved clean. The sexiest thing about him though, more than his ruggedly handsome face, more than the obvious strength in his hand and arms, was just the confidence about him. He was going to ask for, insist on and take what he wanted. I wanted more and more for him to take it from me.

"So, Nicole, we're going to start slow, but we are going to start now. Assuming that you continue to feel comfortable with me, you will obey me and you will do the things I tell you to. I expect you to be prompt about it, I expect you to be complete in your obedience, and I expect you to always be honest about how it makes you feel. Don't assume anything and if you are unclear about something, ask me. Don't try to guess what I might want you to do or say. Is that clear so far?"

"Yes, that's clear, and I can do that," I answered. My heart was starting to pound again.

"Good girl. For starters, while we talk, I'd like you to keep your wrists crossed at the small of your back. In this way, you can think about that there might come a time when I'd want you to be handcuffed while we were out. For today, I would just like you to hold your hands there for me."

"Yes, okay." I slid my hands back and I felt immediately awkward. I had to sit up straight and the posture pushed my shoulders back. Of course, this pushed my breasts out toward him, and the buttons of my top strained just that little bit more.

I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks. It was such an obviously strange way to sit, and it was sure to be noticed eventually. I looked at him, at his smiling response, and then my glace dropped down to my large coffee. It looked delicious.

"Am I allowed to drink this?" I asked him.

"You can drink whatever you'd like of it," he replied with a widening smile, "In fact, I'd like that very much, but you are not to move your hands from their position."

"Are you serious?" I asked as my heart pounded.

"Of course I am. Why do you think I had you get yours with extra foam? It should be much easier for you to lick at."

I looked down again, seeing the pile of foamed milk, sprinkled with chocolate, and tried to wrap my head around what I was being asked to do. It was simple really – just lean down and give it a lick. I'd licked the foam off of coffee drinks like this before. This time I'd just have to lean farther down, since I wasn't allowed to lift the cup to my lips. Was that it? Was that why this was so powerful? Because I had to do it his way? My thoughts were racing, whether it would be more embarrassing to have him see me do it, or have some stranger see it and wonder what the hell was wrong with me.

Fuck it. I was never going to get anywhere this way. So I did it. I bent forward, holding my left wrist with my right hand, all the way until I could finally reach the hot foam with my outstretched tongue. I took a long swipe at it, savouring the taste, and a little bit proud of my completing this challenge. I had to drag my tongue around my lips a couple of times to reassure myself that I had gotten it all.

"Very good, Kiki. That was wonderful." There was genuine praise in his voice and care in his touch as he reached across the table to push an errant lock of my hair back behind my ear.

He started up a conversation, completely ignoring my position, and we fell into a wonderful chat. I had to remind myself not to let my discipline slip, especially since I tend to gesture with my hands. There were also many times I just wanted to reach out and let my fingers touch his forearms as they rested on the small table between us. We flirted and joked and laughed.

Every once in a while I would lean forward and take another lick of my coffee. The foam was so delicious that I kind of wished I was drinking the whole thing, but this experience was so much more electric. Each time I performed the manoeuvre, he would immediately stop talking, and not say another word until I had finished licking my lips.

Our conversation was not overtly sexual, but just having such a fun talk with him while controlled by his simplest of commands was a constant thrill. I could feel my arousal.

"You're doing very well, Kiki," he commented after one particularly long lick at the lowering foam.

"Thanks," I replied, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"I think it is time for your next challenge. Are you ready?"

I giggled. "Ready for what, exactly?"

His face changed, so subtly, but so clearly at the same time. His levity morphed into firmness. "Ready to do what I ask of you, dear."

I was flustered. Damn. I didn't want to upset him or disappoint him. "Yes, Sir; of course. I'm ready."

His smile was back. "I like that. Please continue to call me 'Sir' when you address me."

"Yes Sir."

"Excellent. Now, you're going to stand up in a moment. You will keep your hands in their current position. You will come over to me and turn your back to me, so that I can give you something. I'll place it right in your hands. Once you've got it, you will immediately make your way to the women's washroom in the back. Once inside, you can move your hands. I think it will be obvious to you what you are supposed to do with what I've given you. Once you are complete, you will also remove your panties. You will place them in your hands and carry them back here in the same way that you will have walked to the back. You will approach me again, turn your back to me and give them to me. Then you will be free to return to your seat. Understood?"

Suddenly I was breathing deeply. "Yes Sir, I understand." What the hell; I'd come this far. After our many chats, I kind of expected that he was going to insist on having my panties at one point or another. It was the unknown first part of this that was making my pulse quicken.

"Good. You may get up now then."

I stood up, a little more awkwardly than I would have liked. Having to keep my wrists at my back was throwing me off balance, and I had to lean forward a bit to steady myself as I rose from the chair. It slid back noisily, drawing a few glances, some of which lingered. I walked around the table to him, looking down at his upturned face. He signalled me to turn with a circular motion of his index finger. I complied nervously.

I was facing out now, looking out over the café, at the others who were there with us. I was forced to confront the reality that others were looking at me. Some were shooting occasional glances in my direction, but at least one guy was just staring. He could have been wondering what I was so close to my companion, but pressing my bottom back at him rather than looking at him, or he could have been just leering at my breasts, as this posture did make them stand out rather prominently.

There was nothing I could do but just wait for the mystery object to be pressed into my hand and accept that I looked strange standing here like this. Finally I felt it, and I immediately wanted to melt into the floor. There was no mistaking its outline, its texture. I was now standing in the middle of a coffee shop with a butt plug in my hands.

"Good luck, Kiki" were his parting words.

I started moving. I tried to wrap my hands around it as best I could. Who knows, maybe no one would even notice. Maybe no one else knew just what a butt plug looked like, or even what it was at all.

From our table, in the middle of the seating area, there was no way to get to the washrooms without walking between other tables. I knew that my tightly gripped toy would be just inches from other people's coffees, pastries and conversations. And with me in a body-hugging top, a strip of bare leg between my short pleated skirt and my stockings, clicking by on high heels, I'd be drawing looks no matter what.

I tried not to think about it. I just focussed my eyes on the target and walked steadily. Despite my best efforts, my face was burning by the time I pushed open the door to the small ladies washroom. I knew they were watching. I was sure every one of them knew just what I was going to do and how much of a slut I was for doing it.

The washroom was empty, thankfully, but I rushed into a stall quickly and slammed the door behind me. With my hands freed from their restrictions, I could finally get a look at the plug. The damn thing was bright red, making it even more likely that it had been seen as I made my way back here.

He was right, I knew exactly what he wanted me to do with this. It was humiliating to realize just how much I wanted to do it to. I wanted to do it for him. I wanted to show him that I could do this, and that I could walk back out there with this thing inside me. I wanted to feel the rush of knowing my moistened panties balled up in my fist, just because he wanted it.

I perched on the edge of the seat and reached under my skirt. I started to pull my panties down, feeling the wetness as they pulled away from my pussy. I moaned softly. He hadn't given me anything to help me, so I went with the most obvious source of lubrication, pressing the plug between my lips and twirling it, until the entire thing was gleaming.

I lifted my bottom up, reached back, and I guided the rounded tip to the tightness of my rosebud. I took a deep breath, worked on relaxing my body, and started to ease it into me. As my body took in the widening object, it became more of a challenge. It was stretching me open. I paused for a moment, standing there in this awkward position, not wanting to let it slide back. I took another deep slow breath and braced myself anew. I pushed firmly and bit my lower lip to keep myself quiet. Finally, I could feel the widest portion push into me and my body gripped at the narrowing section, sucking the wide base right up against my ass cheeks. I moaned with a long slow exhale.

I slipped out of my panties, my body gripping the toy tightly as I lifted up each leg. It ached, but the last thing I needed was to have the damn thing slip out of me onto the floor or, god forbid, into the toilet water.

There was a visibly dark stain where my arousal had soaked my panties. I balled them up, trying to wrap the rest of the fabric around it but with a lace thong there just wasn't that much material to work with.

I made the tightest little ball that I could, scrunched it up in one fist, and made my way out of the stall and washroom. After pulling open the door, I made sure my hands were back in their proper place, with wrists crossed at the small of my back.

The plug was really teasing me as I walked, and I could feel its presence with each clicking step. I wondered if it was visibly changing my stride, and if that change would be one more think that was noticed about me.

I was drawing eyes again, and once more I was forced to confront them. I couldn't help but glance into each pair of eyes that lifted to me, though I would dart my gaze away just as quickly. I didn't want to see the questions in their gaze. Why is she walking like that? Why is she blushing?

I felt sure they'd be able to smell my arousal as I walked by, either directly from my now uncovered pussy or wafting off of my tightly clenched panties. I could feel the cool air directly on my sex now, and it only made me more aware of my continued wetness there.

I walked up to him in his chair and I turned my back to him again, my hands behind me, my gift to him still clenched tight. I waited for some touch or signal that he was ready for me to open my hands. The stares were back again, wondering just what I was doing again. They could surely see that I was redder now. It felt like the flush of my face was probably travelling down my neck now. Finally he spoke.

"A little lower, Kiki. Bend at the knees, keep your back straight, and put them right in my lap, won't you?"

Oh god, he was merciless. I started to obey as at that moment, I just wanted to get back into my chair and obedience seemed the quickest way. I kept my back straight and started to lower my body like I was sliding down a wall, or a stripper pole for that matter, until I felt my hands reach his lap. His hands slid over mine and I released the crumpled up lace. My thighs were trembling a bit, holding myself like this, but he didn't let me up right away. His hand took hold of one of mind and guided it over a bit. He slid it over him, over his lap, until I could clearly feel his stiffness through his jeans. I gasped out loud before I could control myself.

"Yes, I thought you'd like that. You can sit down now, Kiki."

I stood up, made my way around the table, and stumbled towards my seat. I wanted to hide away or to run out of here, but at the same time, feeling his control and knowing he was flaunting it over me and in front of all these strangers was an electrifying high.

"As you get your hands in place, Kiki, do make sure that you aren't sitting on your skirt."

"Yes Sir," I stammered. My skirt was short enough that there wasn't much to guide out of the way, but the real challenge was just sitting there with the sensation of my bare, plugged ass directly against the cold wooden chair. Aside from the purely physical sensations, which were driving me to growing distraction, I also couldn't help but wonder just how obvious this all was to those sitting around me.

"I'm very proud of you, Kiki. You're doing very well." He was smiling widely. It was silly to be so affected by this praise, like a small child getting reassurance from a teacher, but I couldn't help that it felt far too good to hear.

"As you could tell, I'm very pleased with how you are reacting to these instructions, and it is incredible to know that you are sitting there, filled up just how I wanted you. And, if I'm not mistaken," he said, and to my horror lifted up his hand with my balled-up panties to his face, drawing in a long whiff, "you seem to be feeling the same kind of arousal too."

"Yes, Sir," was all I could manage at the moment to reply.

"Hmm, that was only an OK reply. In the future, when I ask you a specific question about something like the way you feel, I'll want a bit more back that just yes or no. Be expressive, and tell me about the way you feel. For example, in this case you might have said 'yes Sir, I'm soaking the seat of this chair.' So let's try again, shall we?"

I felt as if was reaching a new height of embarrassment. Would I eventually just explode? "Yes Sir. Yes, I'm feeling the same, and my body is quivering and I'm warm and wet and leaking onto the chair for sure, Sir."

"Excellent! It's a good thing you're not on that skirt then. I wouldn't want it to get stained." He paused, rubbing his hands together. "You can use your hands normally now, dear. I'd like to just talk for a while, but my coffee is done, and I think what is left of yours is cold. Why don't you get us two more of the same, dear?" He pushed a $20 bill across the table at me.

"Yes, Sir, of course." I rose up, feeling the plug's presence with every move, every stride. I waited in the short line, feeling the air move under my skirt. It was cooler near the door, and the breeze when it would open was downright dangerous for me. More than once I had to drop my hands down quickly to keep my skirt in place.

I ordered the coffees, and once more approached his smiling face at the table. Just as before, he rose to pull out my chair, and just as before, he tugged at the hem of my skirt, ensuring again that my bare cheeks were exposed to the chair's seat.

It seemed like pure luxury to be able to reach out and lift my coffee to my lips, sipping it, slurping away at the rich foam without having to lean down over it. And so we began to talk, chatting almost normally. There were moments, briefly, while I was laughing or smiling, that I would forget that I was bare-assed and plugged in public, but the slightest motion of my body or knowing glance from him would bring me back, always with a fresh wave of heat across my face.

He began a kind of question and answer game, like truth or dare, but it was all truth. I could ask one question to each five of his. It sounded unfair at first, but I found quickly it was much more in my nature to be the one interviewed (or interrogated) and I sometimes even got stumped at what I wanted to ask when it was my turn.

His questions started as simple ones, innocent enough, involving things about my background, my family and my work; to an observer at that moment, we might have just look like a couple on a blind date. Then his questions became more intimate, more personal. Always the expert at pushing my buttons, hid did not lower his voice or change his tone at all when asking them. I know that a couple of heads were turned. I think one couple left early, and at least one guy lingered an extra while over an empty cup of coffee.

Some questions ended up resulting in long stories: Who was the first man I felt in love with? What was my first sexual experience like? What, exactly, was my favourite way to masturbate? What were some of my most exciting sexual fantasies? If I started off speaking quietly, he would quickly signal me to speak louder. It was hard enough to talk about these things to a virtual stranger, or anyone, but to do it out loud, in a fully lit café, with people coming and going and overhearing, not to mention while sober ... it was un-nerving. If the plug hadn't had me squirming in my seat, this reckless openness would have.

After a while, he got to a series of quicker, shorter questions. Did I like oral sex? Did I like anal sex? Did I like sex in public? Did I shave my pussy? What size were my breasts? Did I like to use sex toys?

When he asked the first one, if I liked oral sex, I answered simply and quickly, "Yes Sir."

He quickly frowned and tilted his head. "I think you know better than that by now, Nicole."

Oh god. I remembered his earlier instruction, and I rephrased my response. "Yes Sir. I like oral sex quite a bit."

He smiled softly, but still didn't seem satisfied. "Nicole, do you think that you have tendencies toward being a bit of slut?"

I blushed hard. "Yes, Sir, I tend to be a bit of a slut, Sir."

"I think so too, Kiki. After all, you are out in public in a rather short skirt with no panties on, and with a rather kinky sex inside you as well. So, considering that, and your nature, I think that I need to add to your instructions when it comes to responding to me. In addition to avoiding short answers you should also, when you reply, use more explicit, and filthy language. For example, if I asked you if you liked oral sex, you might reply..." he waited.

My heart was in my throat. There were two teenagers beside us who had been not particularly discreet in their eavesdropping lately. "I would tell you 'Yes, Sir, I love to suck cock.'"

"Much better. Let's continue."

And so I found myself being giggled at, stared at, as I debased myself more and more.

"Yes Sir, I love to take it in the ass.

"Yes Sir, I love to get fucked outside.

"My cunt is completely bare, Sir.

"My tits are a C cup, Sir.

"Yes Sir, I love to fuck myself a big dildo and to feel a humming vibe raging against my screaming clit."

He was really enjoying himself, and I was hot – at my face, and between my thighs. I was leaking all over the chair.

"Such a naughty girl you are, Kiki." He was truly enjoying himself. "It is getting late, my dear girl. It's time that we got to your next task – your next challenge. Are you ready?"

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly very dry. "Yes Sir, I am ready to take on your next challenge."

"Good girl. I thought you would be." He slid a small paper bag across the table to me. "Take those out. Do you know what they are?"

I peered inside and saw two small gel-filled clear plastic shapes. "Yes Sir, those are chicken cutlets – they are those inserts you can put inside your bra to make your bre— I mean, your tits, push up higher."

"That's exactly right. Have you used them before?"

"Once or twice, Sir, but normally I think my tits are big enough Sir."

"Yes, Kiki. I too think that your tits are quite perfect. I like your ass too, but we'll get to that later. You're going to go back to the washroom again, and you're going to put these in your already very effective push-up bra. I have a feeling that you're going to look quite obscene with them in." He allowed himself a giddy laugh.

I smiled back. "Yes Sir, I'll just bet. Does that mean you're going to want more blouse buttons open too?"

"Not at all dear. You're not going to be wearing the blouse anymore."

My mouth fell open as he spoke. I should have know better than to try to anticipate his wickedness.

"Once your bra is properly stuffed, you are to remove your blouse and stuff it inside this bag. You are allowed to put your vest back on over it. Then you can come back and re-join me here. Oh, and I think as you walk back, your wrists should be crossed behind your back again." He didn't give me any time to hesitate. "Go now, Kiki."

I should have said, "Yes Sir," but I was not able to speak at that moment. I just picked up the bag and started back towards the back. Feeling my bottom peel off the chair, having to balance on my heels and the sensation of the plug stuffed tight inside me as I walked brought me back to some reality, but I was still in a state of disbelief.

As before, there seemed no choice but to just go forward. God, I was so hot, so wet, so aroused – I couldn't bear for any of this to stop.

Alone in a stall, I unbuttoned the vest and hung it on the small hook. Next was my blouse. Damn, he had this whole thing planned out. I had wondered why he's wanted me to wear all this, as it seemed to have me so covered up. One by one, I lifted up my breasts and slid the gel inserts into place and readjusted myself back into the bra cups. The bra was already pushing my breasts up, and it was a pretty low cup, so with the cutlets in place, it barely contained them. They were high, tight, pushed together and my nipples, diamond hard with arousal, were barely contained.

The vest covered up my bra for the most part, but not much else. Its scooped neckline was going to show plenty, especially with my breasts pushed up like this. Attempting to build up my nerve, I took a deep breath. It wasn't the greatest strategy, as they way my breasts rose up at me made it all too clear just how visible their motion was going to be. I didn't want to keep him waiting much longer, so I pushed forward.

Seeing myself in the bathroom mirror as I stepped out of the stall was another dose of harsh reality. I looked like a slut, some girl who wanted the whole world to see her bouncing tits. God, and then I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, should he ask me. 'Yes Sir, ' I would say, 'Yes Sir, I love it when stranger stare at my tits. I love it when the see them bounce and jiggle.'