I had told her I wanted her to look like the slut she was when we went out to dinner, and she had promised me she would. It was still a shock when I saw her.

She wore a lovely dress, with a flared skirt – that was about 3 inches too short! From where I was, sitting in the car, I could see her naked pussy flashing me from under the hem of her dress when she walked. I began to wonder if we were going to wind up in jail tonight. Maybe I had been a little too – emphatic? – in my instructions.

She stopped about 10 feet short of the car, turned sideways, leaned over, stuck her bum out, and placed her hands coquettishly on her knees, arched her back, and smiled. At first, I wondered what she was up to. Then I noticed something moving – and saw that there was a white-blonde fox tail that fell to below her knees under her dress, twitching back and forth.

Oh. My. Freaking. God!

The Drive: James

I felt something like an electric shock run through me, and my cock sprang to attention in my pants. How the hell was she doing that, waggling a tail? How did she even have a tail? I wondered.

She straightened up, then clasped her hands behind her, pushed her tits out, and walked coquettishly towards me, swinging her hips with each slow, enticing step. And with each step, her hem flipped up slightly, flashing me. She got to the car, then waited, one hand on her hip, the other hanging down by her side. She must have seen that pose in a movie somewhere, but she owned it.

I finally closed my mouth, scrambled out, raced over to the other side of the car, and only then noticed that she wasn’t wearing a coat. “You silly, stupid – wonderful – slut! You’ll catch your death, exposing your – shoulders – like that!” I jerked open the car door, and handed her in to the car’s warm interior.

Because that car is low-slung, she had to bend her knees and spread them to get in, with the result that her cunt was completely exposed for a second. She smiled when she saw me notice. Then she swivelled – cautiously because of her tail – around, pulled her knees into the car, tugged her dress down, and folded her hands primly across her legs, looking straight ahead, with a “butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth” expression.

I closed her door, and laughed aloud. Then I caught the stretch teenager smirking at me. “Have fun, kids!” she shouted, then twirled on her foot and flounced away into the building, waving good-bye.

I got into the car, leaned over, and said, “Kiss me, you gorgeous slut!” She turned her head slowly, with a haughty, taunting expression on her face, then deigned to lean forward, and gave me a quick, chaste, peck on the lips.

Then she broke into a big, happy grin and grabbed my head and kissed me with tongue, glee, and passion.

“Wanna fuck?” she said, “I’m ready for it!”

I inhaled, and smelled my favorite perfume. “You smell of cunt.”

“Yes, I most certainly do. I almost failed in obeying your orders, my lord. I came within about a second of cumming in the shower. It was so bad, I had to turn the cold water on myself or else burst into flame.

She leaned close, and whispered, “I’m ready – no, eager – to fuck or suck you right here, right now. Sir.” She leaned forward, licked my lips, and put her hand between my legs, caressing my cock.

I was truly, truly tempted, but pulled back and said, dismissively, “Good. But it’ll probably be 3-4 hours before I let you lie on your back, naked, with your legs apart, and shove my cock into you. Would you like to have dinner in the meantime?”

“OHHHHHHH! MEN!” she shouted, then slapped me on my thigh – painfully close to my crotch, then smiled.

I put the car in gear, and we drove to the restaurant.

“So, tell me about almost disobeying me,” I said.

She was quiet, then her lips quirked up into a smile. “As you commanded, my lord…“

“That’s the second time you’ve said that. What’s with the ‘my lord’ stuff?”

“I like the sound of it, Sir. Would you rather I didn’t use it?”

I thought for a moment, “No, it’s OK. I like it better than ‘master’, and since you are my slave for the moment, I’ll accept it. Just don’t go overboard on it, right?”

“Sir.”

“Go on about almost disobeying me.”

“As you commanded, Sir, I got into the shower to masturbate. I stopped after a bit, then decided that I hadn’t gotten close enough to please you, so started again. This time I was so successful that I could feel my climax starting. I panicked, and the only way I could think of to stop myself from cumming was to turn the cold water on full.

“It was a shock, but it worked.” She smiled again, then said, “It caught Sammi by surprise, though.”

“That’s the stretch teenager we encountered earlier?” She nodded, “Where does she come into this?”

“This is the only dress I have that makes me look like a slut. That kind of look isn’t something I’ve had a lot of call for. But this was my high school prom dress, and I couldn’t get the fastener at the back to close, so I called Sammi and asked her to help. She got it closed, but in the process, she had to tug the dress up – and that hiked the skirt too high.”

She looked down at her lap. “I didn’t have time to do anything else. I hope you don’t mind, my lord. I know I’m more exposed that I intended to be.” She sounded nervous.

I was silent for a moment. “We may have to get bailed out of jail, but if you’re willing to wear it, I’m willing to look.” And I smiled at her.

She looked relieved. “Thank you, my lord.”

“So, are you trying to seduce this poor girl?”

Marta smiled, and said, “I think it’s the other way around. She has what I think is a much healthier relationship with sex than I do. Certainly, must more relaxed, even eager. And no, I was not trying to seduce her.” She turned to look at me full on, “Do you want to, Sir? I think she’d like that. She sounded disappointed when I said you weren’t there with me.”

I smiled. “I think I’ve got my hands full with you, slut.”

I paused, then said, “I suspect that every mature man thinks it would be a turn-on to have an affair with an of-age teenager. I suspect that the thought is actually more interesting than the reality would be. They are probably pretty clumsy.”

“I doubt Sammi would be, Sir. I think she dove into sex head first early on, and has been swimming strongly ever since. She told me, while we were doing my hair, that her mother is pretty cool about sex, even though her dad isn’t – but her mom put her foot down and got her way. Apparently, her mother made Sammi a deal when she had her first period. Sammi could bring boys – or girls – home and have sex safely, in her own room, if she would wait until she was 16.

“Sammi agreed – but giggled and told me she thought her mother old fashioned. Sammi seems quite comfortable with her sexuality, and not at all abashed about it. She even asked me if I’d been with any girls, which I took as a not very subtle hint.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I told her the truth, that she had probably had more sexual encounters – both in numbers, and variety – than I have, and that my relationship with you was a happy accident.”

Marta stopped, brought her hand up to her mouth, and said, “Oh my God, Sir. Did I reveal something you wouldn’t have wanted me to? I’m sorry!”

I reached over and patted her – bare – leg and said, “No, it’s fine. Let’s just be careful with our precocious teenager, shall we? I think our relationship is complicated enough without involving a third person, especially one that I have a hard time thinking of as legal, even though she seems to be.”

“She is. She photocopied her driver’s license for us.”

“Right. Well, let’s follow the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Slut. Shall we?”

“Yes, Sir. Whatever you wish.”

She was silent for a time. “Sir, remember how, earlier you asked if I was attracted to the saleswoman at the sex shop I went to?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the idea of having sex with her scared me, it was clearly out of my comfort zone. Hell, it isn’t even in the same time zone. But I said I would do it if you wanted me to – and I will.”

“Go on.”

“Sammi doesn’t scare me. I think she’s both fun and funny, and she’s so comfortable about herself and her sexuality that if you wanted me to have sex with her, I would feel much more comfortable about that. I even find myself thinking that it might possibly be fun.”

I thought about it, then said, “KISS for now, OK?”

“Yes, my lord. As you command.”

I Want to Fuck! – Marta

I had never felt this way before. I had always feared that I might be considered a slut, and had frequently been called one simply because people thought I was attracting too much attention, as if it was my fault.

And my mother, who I think was jealous of my youth and looks, decided, after I hit puberty, that I had immediately become a slut, and was racing around sucking and fucking my way through – Catholic! – high school. I think she was projecting her own desires, to be honest.

But the reality was I had been scared to engage in any kind of sexual activity until I met Kelly. I was shy anyway, had been brought up a Catholic, and my parents had made sure I’d bought the whole “virgin until marriage” bit, plus they made it extraordinarily difficult for me to date.

Having Kelly as a roommate opened my eyes, and opened doors for me, and I had a brief – very brief – three-year window when I became sexually active, even though I was still exceptionally shy.

I had had four partners under Kelly’s tutelage, but all of them had been disasters in one way or another. Either my own inexperience and sense of sin got in the way, or their ineptitude made it emotionally or physically awful, or, in the final case, it was a classic Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am encounter that left me psychologically devastated.

And then, of course, after Kelly’s murder, I had foresworn sex, which did not stop opportunistic men from trying to get me into bed. And those few times when I had taken a chance, the afterwards had all been uniformly awful, as if I was wearing a sign that said, “Use Me!” In Kelly’s terms, they had all been creepers, not keepers, so I had stopped even trying more than a decade ago.

But Sir had awakened something in me. He had enticed me into being what I had always feared: a slut. But he had made it fun, not sinful, and life-embracing rather than a deadly sin, something I now eagerly sought rather than shunned.

And, ironically, even my brief encounter with Sammi had been immensely helpful. Her Holy shit! Isn’t this great? attitude, coupled with her wide-eyed, innocent interest in sex as a normal, healthy thing seemed to open doors for me in the way that Kelly had tried seventeen years earlier.

Regardless, I found myself now being eager to fuck. Specifically, to fuck James. And it didn’t hurt that he was keeping me in almost constant heat, coming close to climaxing, then backing off. He had me yearning to fuck and be fucked, to suck his cock, to have him do obscene and unspeakable things to me, and me to do the same to him, to a degree I would never have thought possible.

I had never experienced either this quality of sexuality, nor this quantity of sexuality. Before Sir, sex was something I did to myself once in a while, when the pressure became too much for me to bear – and it never failed to add to my psychic burden of sin.

On the other hand, this was liberating – and I wanted to embrace it.

So, while I still found public exposure, for instance, embarrassing or humiliating, I now also found it a turn-on. I would never have been caught dead wearing what I was wearing, even in the privacy of my own apartment, before. Now I wanted to be Sir’s slut, not just be called one.

It was thrilling!

So, when we arrived at the restaurant, rather than being anxious about the indecency of my clothing, I wanted to walk in on his arm and fucking flaunt it! Even though it also scared me to death.

I was high on the first, real, sexual – scary – adventure of my life, and I loved it.

And that was my state of mind when we arrived.

****

The parking valet met them at the front door of the restaurant, and naturally opened Marta’s door for her. She swung one leg out of the car first, then, without looking at him, paused to make sure the valet got a good view of her cunt, then put the other foot out, and stood up. She turned around, and bent over to pick up her clutch purse, which she could just as easily have kept tucked under her arm. But this gave her an excuse to show her ass, legs, and – most importantly! – tail to the valet.

The poor boy almost fainted. As she wafted past him, she looked him in the eye, and said, “Thank you” in her best, demure, sweet little girl manner, the complete innocent.

James came around, holding an old satchel in his left hand, and took her arm with his right, then said, sotto voce, “Was that really necessary? That poor boy is going to have wet dreams about you for months now.”

I looked at him and said, “And that’s a bad thing?” and smiled. I reached into my clutch purse, and took out the remote for my tail, turned it on, and set it to moving in a gentle twitch, back and forth.

James shook his head and smiled.

Emile, the maitre d’, met us at the door. “Monsieur James, it has been too long since you graced us with your presence. Welcome back!”

“I haven’t had anyone worthy to bring here, worthy of Anton’s cooking and your panache, Emile, but tonight I have. May I introduce Mademoiselle Maria Estaban?”

Emile turned to me, his eyes widening slightly at the dog collar around my neck, hesitated just the barest of instants, then bowed over my hand and kissed it lightly. “Mademoiselle Maria, welcome to Monteparnasse. We hope we can make your stay with us enjoyable. Please, follow me!”

And with a flourish, he led us through what was a classic French bistro, but richly appointed, and with astonishing Art Deco decor, including a backlit stained-glass skylight. The lighting was low, providing islands of privacy for the diners, but the highlights were spectacular. It was beautiful, and it smelled heavenly as well. Suddenly, I was ravenous.

As we walked towards the back of the restaurant, I became aware that all eyes were on us. Or more specifically, on me, especially as I was at least three inches taller than Sir with my heels. I felt myself blushing furiously – and also getting even wetter than I already was. I made a point of walking slowly, rolling my hips more than strictly necessary, and made no effort to tug my dress down at all with the result that I’m sure I would have flashed half of the diners, had the lighting been better. As it was, I’m sure some of the diners we walked by got an eyeful, whether they believed their eyes or not.

The silence that preceded us turned to rising whispers after us, some of them angry. Sir had said he wanted people to see me as a slut, and even though it scared the shit out of me, I would do everything I could to avoid disappointing him.

I acted like I was glorying in the exposure. As long as James was by my side, I felt safe being outrageous. And I had promised him I would do anything he asked, and he had asked me to do this. I swallowed hard, but kept a big smile on my face.

Emile led us to a table alone on a slight dais, half a step up, tucked away in its own alcove carved into the wall, in a corner of the room. It, too, was spectacularly lit, with a stained-glass wall behind it in colors and patterns that reminded me of Louis Comfort Tiffany’s glass art, and while the table was lit, the people sitting there – us – would be obscured by being backlit. The table had a view of everything and everyone in the restaurant. Likewise, everyone could see us, but in outline, as if we were a king and queen. Emile seated us on a banquette, side-by-side, facing the room, French-style.

At first, I gulped because I was concerned that the raised table would constantly expose what I was – or wasn’t – wearing under my dress to everyone in the room. Then I noticed that the table cloth fell all the way to the ground, and breathed a sigh of relief. I went to my side of the table, turned to face the crowd, slowly gathered my tail up out of the way to make sure everyone noticed it, then slid into the seat, legs apart, giving everyone who was watching a momentary glimpse of my pussy. And smiled.

Emile pushed the table in to seat us, bowed, then bustled away.

I had made it, although my heart was pounding and I was having a hard time breathing.

Spread ’em, Slut: Marta

“Keep your legs open wide, slut,” Sir said with a smile. “And I want you to sit directly on the banquette with your bare ass, not on your dress.”

“Sir.” I lifted myself up, pushed my dress back behind me, adjusted my tail to run straight down between my legs, then sat so that my ass was now completely, nakedly on the banquette. Then, as I was sitting on his right side, I spread my legs wide, making sure my left leg touched against Sir’s so he knew I was doing as he ordered.

“Now, lock your hands together behind your back.”

I looked up sharply. “Sir?”

“You heard me.”

I gulped, then leaned slightly forward, put my hands behind me, and clipped one to the other, then leaned back as much as I could. My hands were forcing me to lean slightly forward, and I looked out at the people in the restaurant, certain that they were all staring at me. I was starting to sweat lightly, and my breathing was shallow.

He reached over, and pulled the front of my skirt up to my waist. I was now naked from the waist down, except for my high heels, with my legs spread wide, and unable to use my hands to do anything about it.

He looked over at my lap, then smiled at me. “Love the view.” Then he patted my thigh, and pulled the tablecloth over my lap, covering me. I relaxed fractionally – until I saw the waiter coming our way.

“Good evening, Mr. Gainsborough! A delight to see you again. Can I get you both something to drink?”

Sir said, “Hello, Arthur. It’s great to see you, too.” Then he turned to me, “Would you like some champagne, Maria?”

I couldn’t speak, so I merely nodded.

“Would you bring us a bottle of the Moët, please, Arthur?”

“Of course, sir, right away!” He nodded to us, and smiled at me as he left.

I was sure he knew precisely what was going on, and my breathing became even shallower. Yet, despite my fears, my cunt was now starting to leak onto my tail and the banquette; I was so turned on.

It took about four minutes for Arthur to return with the wine and two champagne flutes, along with another waiter, who brought an ice bucket, then left. Arthur set the glasses before us, held the bottle up for Sir’s approval, which was given, then quickly removed the foil wrapper and wire, gently worked the cork from the bottle so that it barely whispered when it finally came free. Then he poured a small amount into Sir’s glass and stepped back.

“Would you like to taste it, pussy?” he said, holding the glass for me to take – if I could.

“Uh, no thank you. Please would you?” I croaked.

“Of course.” He held the glass up to the light, tilting the glass to assess the color of the wine, then sniffed it, and finally tasted it, rolling it around in his mouth. Finally, he nodded, and Arthur poured the wine slowly into my glass at an angle, topped up Sir’s, then put the bottle in the ice bucket and left.

During this entire time, though, Sir had been stroking the inside of my thigh with his right hand, then slowly separating my cunt lips with his fingers, gently running his fingers up to my clit, then pushing into my cunt to massage my G-spot.

When the wine was poured, he stopped. “Would you like me to help you to some wine, pussy?”

“I guess?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He picked up my flute, and carefully held it to my lips, allowing me to take a mouthful. “Tastes better than your own piss, doesn’t it, pussy?”

I choked and almost spit it out, then swallowed.

“Or would you rather drink your own piss?”

“No, Sir, the champagne is lovely. Thank you for ordering it. May I please have some more?”

He smiled, and lifted the glass to my lips again, simultaneously putting his other hand behind my head. This time I actually drank some. He continued to pour it into my mouth, though, so I had to keep swallowing furiously, until the entire glass was empty.  Finally, he put the glass down.

I coughed once, then said, “Thank you, my lord. It was, uh, wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites – unlike some other tipples you might have had.”

I dropped my head and looked down, blushing furiously. And suddenly, my head started spinning lightly. I was not used to drinking alcohol. If he kept this up, he’d have to sling me over his shoulder and carry me home. And I had no doubts that he would.

“We seem to be drawing a fair amount of attention, so perhaps we should play a bit more conventionally and release your hands, yes?”

I nodded, perhaps a shade too vigorously, and leaned forward. He withdrew his hand from between my legs, reached around my back, and unclipped my hands.

I slowly moved them from behind my back, trying desperately to make it look like a natural gesture. I looked up, and several people quickly looked away. One woman, though, winked at me, looked amused, then looked away and started talking pleasantly to her astonishingly good-looking companion.

Her Very Personal Perfume: Sir

So far, I was very pleased with how supper was going. I loved humiliating Marta, and, judging by how wet she was, she was loving it as well, even if she didn’t know it.

It was time to move on.

“Maria…”

“Sir?”

I looked at her. “You seem to have some questions. If you’d like to ask them, please go ahead.”

She ducked her head in submission, then said, “Thank you, my lord, yes. Why are you calling me Maria? I mean, I know it’s my name, but…”

I looked her in the eyes and said, “Marta, I doubt anyone from the Institute would recognize you even if they saw you, but I don’t want to leave it to chance. I love playing games with you, and using your body as my fucktoy. But your work is too important to screw around with, which is why I want to take steps to protect you, and your identity, such as asking you to dress and look like slut. That’s something the austere Dr. Rabinovich would never do.

“The same applies to your name. It is just recognizable enough that someone might notice. But I very much doubt if anyone other than a devoted fan – me – knows your middle names.

“Any other questions?”

She leaned over, picked up my hand, and kissed the back of it. “Thank you, my lord. You are incredibly kind to me.” She looked up into my eyes, “I promise I’ll show you my gratitude later…” And she sucked my middle finger into her mouth, then nipped the base.

I jerked my hand back, and it left her mouth with a pop. She’d caught me by surprise – and I liked it.

She went on, “I’m not sure what I want to ask, but this place – it’s clear they know you, but they treat you more like royalty than merely a valued customer. Am I imagining that, my lord?”

I smiled. “I own it. Or at least, a majority interest in it – 51% to be precise. The rest is shared between Emile – whose real name is Jack, he’s also from Rockland County, and has an incredible gift as a restauranteur – Anton, who actually is named Anton, is from France, and is a great chef but with no sense of money, and some of the senior staff, like Arthur.

“I put up all the money, and chose the layout and décor, which is why it’s so well decorated, plus buying the initial inventory. They work here, and get good salaries plus profit sharing, as well as a share of the proceeds if and when we sell.

“It makes them care a lot about what happens, makes this an incredibly lucrative investment, long-term, and it gives them job security, which is rare in this industry. Plus, it means I get to eat at one of the best restaurants around without worrying about how I’ll be treated, or whether I can get a table.” He smirked. “It also means they are eager to support any little ­– games – I might want to play.

 “A last question?”

She looked down, as if concerned she might be overstepping her bounds, then, “Have you played, uh, a lot of games here?” she asked in a low voice.

Her tone broke my heart. I put my hand under her chin and lifted her to face me. “Marta, my word to you, this is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this, here or anywhere, with anybody.

“All I meant was, I called Emile and told him I was bringing a very special guest, and we might be a bit – amorous.” I chuckled briefly. “Emile was delighted. We are old high school friends, and he has long urged me to find someone serious. All of the staff here are on my side.

“If I were to pull you up onto the table and start making love to you in plain sight, the only thing they would do would be to cheer. They’re loving this almost as much as I am.”

She looked into my eyes, and tears appeared there. “Thank you, my lord.” Then she looked down and smiled, “But I doubt they’re enjoying this quite as much as I am.” And she took my right hand, and guided it to down between her legs, and pulled a finger up into her cunt.

It was not just wet. It was hot! And I was tempted all over again to just take her home and start doing things to her.

But reluctantly decided that this was, ultimately, more fun.

“Shall we get back to our – supper – then, Maria?”

“If it pleases you, my lord. Whatever pleases you, Sir.”

“Good. Then I think it’s time you applied some perfume.”

Trouble: Marta

“Sir? You told me not to wear any perfume.”

“That’s right, because I wanted you to apply it here.”

I was puzzled. “But I didn’t bring any – not that I have much. I hardly ever use it.”

He chuckled. “You have plenty of my favorite perfume right here,” and he stroked my cunt.

I wasn’t sure I knew what he meant, but was afraid I might. “Sir?”

“I want you to go to the Ladies’ room, finger yourself, and apply your cunt juice to the places where you would normally apply perfume: behind your ears, the hollow at the base of your neck, in your elbows, behind your knees – you know, the places where it is likely to produce the most aroma. When you return, I want to be able to smell your cunt quite distinctly. Understand me?”

My mouth went dry. “Uh, of course, Sir, as you wish.” And I started to get up.

“Wait a moment, two more things.”

I sat back down, and wondered what else I was going to be required to do.

“You are not to go into a stall when you do this, plus you are not to use the toilet. Understand?”

I nodded. I also realized I was in trouble. My bladder was telling me I would need to pee within the hour, and we hadn’t even ordered yet.

“Off you go, then,” and patted my labia, then withdrew his hand.

I got up carefully, partly to make sure my skirt had a chance to fall back into place, and partly to adjust my tail so it was in the right place, then turned and walked to the Ladies’. My heart was thudding heavily in my chest, and my mouth was dry. I reached into my clutch purse and turned my tail on to a gentle swish again.

****

Sir watched her go fondly. His cock was rigid and leaking an abundance of pre-cum. He was making his own undershorts wet – something that had never happened to him before!

What he didn’t notice was two other women from two other tables got up at almost the same time, including the one who had winked, and went to the restroom as well.

To be continued…