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“Mark,” she protested. He flexed his hand ever so gently across her throat. “Sir,” she corrected, and he could tell by her breathing that she was getting excited, despite her misgivings.
“Hand inside your panties,” he repeated. “Now, pet.”
Abby slipped her left hand into her black lace panties and made a small, feminine noise that he heard as well as felt with his hand encircling her throat. As she fingered herself, he put his lips to her ear. “Look,” he whispered. “Look outside. All those people,” he said, his own gaze following the sidewalk shoppers, talking on cell phones or with each other, carrying their own bags.
It took a firm hand, absolute confidence, and a deep understanding of your submissive’s desires, capabilities, and limits in order to command them to do something they otherwise wouldn’t normally do. Tex knew that Abby wanted to be sexual, but often downplayed that part of herself because of her childhood. For her, submission was a release, a way to admit and allow herself to enjoy desires so secret that she even hid them from herself.
A woman who wore as much lingerie as Abby did, wanted to be looked at, admired, lusted after. But between her father’s iron-fisted upbringing and her fear of being rejected because she had a body like a 1940’s starlet instead of a 2000’s waif, she kept it under wraps. Or, more accurately, under gender-neutral business suits that gave no hint to the tantalizing lace and silk hidden underneath.
Tex moved his mouth over her ear. “They can’t see us, but we can see them, can’t we, pet? Just a few feet away from where you swallowed my cum.” Abby shivered and he grinned. “It’s different when your head’s not buried in my lap, isn’t it? Being able to see them. Watch them. Do you think any of them had their fingers in their cunts this morning? Like you’re doing now?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He licked her earlobe. “My greedy little pet, rubbing herself in public. Can’t get enough, can you, pet?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“That’s how I like you. Greedy, and horny, and following my instructions. Is that pussy wet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. I like it soaked. You’re going to wear your sopping wet panties to lunch, pet. No changing just because you bought fresh ones. Fuck, I love smelling you when you’re turned on.”
As luck would have it, a sedan actually pulled into the lot and started backing in just two spaces down from them. Tex had pulled the Hummer straight into the spot facing the brick building, so he and Abby were now looking directly across the back seat at a guy in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair parking his BMW. Abby gasped.
“Keep touching yourself, pet,” he commanded, his voice full of warning. “If you don’t get off, I will get you off. And then I’ll make you keep getting off until you’re crying, begging me to stop.”
Abby threw her head back against his shoulder. With her free hand she actually pressed his hand a little harder against her throat. She moved her hips languidly, riding her own hand. “Fuck,” Tex growled. “There’s my good girl. Are you looking at him, pet? Keep looking at him. He’s so close. So fucking close.”
Abby held his hand harder against her delicate throat. Mark didn’t tighten his grip though, choosing instead to let her control how much pressure to exert. They hadn’t done anything like breath play and he suspected she wasn’t actually trying it now. She just wanted to reinforce his dominance over her since they were in an unfamiliar environment and there were no other outward trappings of her role as his submissive, such as being naked while he remained clothed or wearing her play collar. She needed that reaffirmation of their respective roles as submissive and dominant.
He took his right hand, which had been resting on her hip, and slid it around her waist. He pulled her against him in a steel grip, a primitive sort of bondage that required only flesh and bone. Abby was trapped in his embrace. She couldn’t fight or get away. She was also completely and totally free. And she recognized it, knew it for what it was, because she writhed against him passionately, the wet sounds of her fingerfucking competing with the soft moans in her throat.
“Come.” he commanded. “Come for your Owner, pet.”
She shuddered and arched her back, then slammed back into him again as she came, not loudly this time but still fiercely, panting and squirming and grinding in his lap. He held her until it was over then he trailed kissed down her cheek and along her jaw and on that spot behind her ear that made her putty in his hands.
“My precious little pet,” he whispered in her ear.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
They sat outside on a sidewalk cafe since it was a beautiful afternoon. True to his word, Mark had made her go to lunch in her wet panties. Abby shifted slightly uncomfortably in the seat as he grinned at her. She narrowed her eyes at him.
