Sleeping Forest, Renier Laroche [best e book reader txt] 📗

before pulling out my chair to invite me to sit down next to your seat. "How was your day?" I ask.

"A little stressful," you reply. "But I'm sure it will get better from here on." I feel your eyes on me, scrutinising every visible part of my body. "Was it cold outside?" you ask. I smile, blushing, as I realise that you are staring at my hard nipples. They have begun to return to their normal size, but are still much larger than normal. My arm moves to try to cover them, but I stop as I see you shake your head.

"What if other people are staring at my nipples?" I ask quietly.

"Let them stare at your hard nipples," you reply. "I want them to be jealous that I get to take you home and play with those gorgeous tits."

As the waiter comes over to take our drink orders, I see his eyes move to my nipples but I am distracted from this embarrassment when I feel your hand on the top of my thigh, sliding up beneath my skirt and stroking the bare skin above the top of my stocking. I struggle to maintain my composure as you chat to him about the wine menu, your roaming hand hidden by the long table cloth and his eyes flitting between you and my nipples. He walks away and your hand moves towards the inside of my thigh before finding itself blocked by the way that I am sitting with my thighs together and ankles crossed. "Keep your thighs apart," you growl in my ear. "Do not deny me access to what is rightfully mine." I uncross my ankles and allow my thighs to part slightly. "Wider," you whisper. As I move my thighs wider apart, I can feel my pussy being exposed by the crotchless knickers and my knee comes to rest against yours. Your hand moves up the inside of my thigh and I gasp as I feel your fingers brush over my exposed lips. "Good girl," you tell me, and your hand moves away. "Keep your thighs apart for the rest of the evening."

Before our main course is brought out, you reach into a bag that you have kept hidden by your feet. You pass me a satin drawstring bag and tell me to put it into my handbag. "What is it?" I ask, but you refuse to tell me. 

You barely touch me again throughout our starter as we chat comfortably about normal, everyday topics. I have to concentrate to maintain my unnatural position with my thighs apart and I can tell that you notice every time my knee moves away from yours. "If you can't remember to follow my instruction, I'm sure I can come up with a way to help you to remember next time," you say. I bite my lip as I remember a story I read a while ago about a slave who was trained to keep her legs apart by wearing straps with spikes on between her legs, so that the spikes dug in if her thighs came too close. But I decide not to reveal this - I am sure that you have plenty of wicked ideas of your own, without me adding to them. 

Before our main course is brought out, you instruct me to go to the bathroom and insert the object that is in the satin bag that you passed to me earlier. When I am safely in the bathroom, I open the bag to reveal a medium sized butt plug and a small sachet of lube. Even with the lube, it is hard to push the width of the plug into my ass and I can feel it stretching me as I walk back to our table. I wince as I sit back down and try to rest my weight on my thighs to keep my ass from touching the chair. But then I feel you give a sharp pinch to my upper thigh to remind me to keep my legs apart. I am forced to sit back onto my cheeks and I feel the plug being pushed even deeper inside me. As I eat my meal, the slight discomfort of the plug constantly reminds me of your control over me. This causes my nipples to harden, which further increases my feeling of exposure as I realise how evident my arousal is to you and anyone else who is close enough to notice. 

As the waiter returns to clear our empty plates, I feel your hand on my thigh once more. This time, it continues to move upwards and I feel your finger pushing inside me. Although I know that the table cloth hides the position of your hand, I blush and concentrate on trying not to react. "Your pussy is soaked," you whisper to me as the waiter walks away. "I hope you're not making a wet patch at the back of your dress..."

After dessert, you whisper to me, "I want you to rub your clit. Don't stop until I give you permission. And don't cum." 

"Sir, I can't..." I begin, pleading with you to let me off. But I am cut off by your hard stare and I find myself obeying you, your dominance overriding the logical thoughts in my brain. I feel incredibly vulnerable as I reach my hand under the table cloth and begin to lightly stroke my clit. You maintain eye contact with me after a quick glance to check the location of my hand. This only serves to heighten my embarrassment at being forced to play with myself in the middle of a restaurant. You call the waiter over to ask for the bill and engage him in conversation as I focus on making sure that my upper arm doesn't betray my movements and my face doesn't show my humiliation. 

"You're beginning to look very flushed," you tell me as the waiter walks away. "We'll get you out into the fresh air soon... Maybe that will help."

The waiter returns with the bill and you again engage him in conversation, enjoying my obvious discomfort as you notice the subtle signs that I am close to orgasm. You finally allow me to stop playing with myself just before we stand up to leave. As we walk out of the restaurant, I feel sure that everyone is staring at me, either noticing the wet patch that I imagine must be showing at the back of my dress, my hard nipples poking through my dress or the flush that has probably spread over my neck and chest. You use a hand on the small of my back to guide me, asserting your claim over me, and I am grateful for the way that this gesture helps me to feel secure and protected despite my feeling of vulnerability and embarrassment. But as soon as we walk out of the door, you heighten my feeling of humiliation by taking my hand and raising it to your lips to suck my finger, tasting my wetness still on it. 

You keep hold of my hand and I begin to relax slightly as we walk along the pavement although every step causes the plug to shift in my ass. "It's a lovely warm evening," you say, "so shall we walk through the park?" 

"But, Sir, I need you to take me home and make me cum, please, I'm so wet for you..." I reply, hoping that we can get home as quickly as possible so that you can provide me with some relief from my arousal. 

"My poor slut," you reply. "Maybe I'll make you wait for your orgasm... Or maybe walking through the park and making you cum aren't mutually exclusive..." My eyes widen as I realise the implications of your suggestion. Although we have sometimes engaged in discreet play in public, like this evening in the restaurant, you have never actually made me cum in a public place. The thought both excites and horrifies me. 

We turn off into the park and you lead me towards an area with a few bushes and trees. You stop, positioning me so that my back is against a tree and you have a good view to make sure that there aren't actually any people nearby. Your hand reaches towards one of my nipples, rubbing it through the fabric of my dress and enjoying the way that it instantly hardens underneath your fingers. Then you reach into my dress and pull my breasts upwards, lifting them out of the dress. I gasp as I realise how exposed I am, but you silence me with a deep kiss, rubbing my bare nipples to hardness before pinching them firmly.

Your knee nudges my thighs apart and I can feel your hard cock pressing against me. "I can't walk home with a hard-on," you tell me, "so you're going to have to do something about it." I consider arguing that you expected me to walk around with enlarged, hard nipples showing through my dress, but think better of it. I feel your hands on my shoulders, pushing me down, and I begin to protest, until you threaten to spank me here in the park instead. Kneeling on the soft grass with my tits still exposed, you silence me with your hard cock, thrusting it into my mouth and using a hand on the back of my head to encourage me to take it as deep as possible. It doesn't take long before you near orgasm, aroused all evening by admiring my hard nipples, enjoying watching me squirm and anticipating all the things you still have planned for when we finally get home. I swallow your cum, not wanting to add to my humiliation by dribbling any onto my dress. 

When I have licked your cock clean and you have tucked it back into your trousers, you gently pull me to my feet before pushing me back against the tree. Your hand reaches between my legs, feeling my juices almost dripping from me in my arousal. You slide two fingers into my pussy, enjoying the way that the crotchless knickers give you such easy access. I moan as you pump them into me, your thumb now rubbing on my clit. 

You continue until I near orgasm and then tell me, "I was planning to make you cum here in the park, but you've tried to argue with me at least twice this evening, so I think I'll make you wait." I whimper in need and you chuckle softly. "I thought you didn't want to be forced to cum in public? You are such a needy slut, aren't you?" You push your fingers into my mouth, making me lick my juices from them before you pull my dress back over my breasts. 

We walk home agonisingly slowly as you stop frequently to point out stars or to admire the view. I try to enjoy the romance of a moonlit walk, but am distracted by the plug in my ass and my dripping pussy. When we finally get through the front door, you lead me into the bedroom and I instinctively kneel by your feet. You reach into a drawer and pull out my collar and a set of cuffs. You tug my dress up and over my head and move behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it fall from my breasts. Then you gently pull my hair out of the way and bend down to kiss my neck before placing the collar around it. I present my wrists to you and you fasten a cuff on each one before pulling my hands behind my back and fastening the cuffs to each other. My restraints have the paradoxical effect of making me feel free, knowing that you will take care of all my needs. 

Next, you return your attention to my tits, which are being thrust forward by the position of my arms. You roll each nipple between your fingers before attaching the nipple clamps. I whimper as I feel the