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We stood at the bar, for it was so crowded there were no tables left. In fact, the place was so packed there were people standing in their small groups so close to me I could almost touch them.

As instructed earlier that day, I wore a mini skirt. Also (as was your order) I wore no underwear. Not even a bra. The occasional glance that lingered just a little too long by a stranger was aimed at the top half of my body. Whether it was my erect nipples poking through my satin top, or what adorned my neck, I didn’t know. I felt both humiliated and intensely excited at the same time. I looked to see what you were looking at, but it wasn’t me. A hand loosely wrapped around your beer on the bar, you were looking around nonchalantly, taking in the crowd, seemingly just another innocent patron enjoying a drink. But innocent was never an adjective to describe you! For you knew full well that my nipples were engorged and erect due to your orders, your presence, and my anticipation of…….what? I didn’t know. You knew I was a little apprehensive coming out tonight wearing your gift. In public. Apprehensive - yes. Reluctant - never. At the thought, my hand went to the metal ring around my neck. It caught the light and glimmered in places, particularly near the beautiful, large, silver ring that dangled from it in full view. Your ownership ring. I wore it proudly. I loved my new gift. I also wore it to please you. As was my role.

Suddenly, you inched closer to me, your hand reaching down to rest on my bare thigh. I quivered, and could feel my pussy muscles starting to contract and spasm. Involuntarily as usual. I could never control them. I put my drink to my mouth for something to do as your hand slowly crept further up my thigh. I wasn’t expecting it. Then again, I had had no idea what to expect this night.

You had remained silent for a long time but at that moment you put your mouth to my ear and whispered. I knew disobeying your order was out of the question so I did as I was told and turned around; my back to the bar, both hands clutching my drink too hard, my front facing the anonymous guys standing right in front of me in their small friendship groups.
“Good girl” you whispered. Then “you are not to move or make a sound. No squirming. No moans. Is that understood?” Nervously, I nodded, looking around the room pretending to be normal. But I wasn’t feeling normal. Every nerve fibre in my body was alive and twitching because your hand increased its pace sliding up my thigh and under my skirt. It reached my ass cheek and squeezed it, just a little too hard. Realising you were ravishing me (using me) from behind and out of view, I relaxed a little. But only momentarily. For all of a sudden it dawned on me that you didn’t want total strangers to see what YOU were doing; you wanted them to see ME! To see my face. So that any change in my facial expression or body language would be obvious to anyone who noticed. I suddenly felt very exposed. ***. Humiliated. And very, very excited.

Your hand moved left and down a little. Inching its way to my panty line that separated my swollen pussy lips from my inner thigh. Except that tonight there were no panties there! Your finger parted my wet (oh…..so wet) lips and traced a line from my perineum to my swollen, aching nub, brushing over the dripping entrance of the pussy you owned on its journey. My nerve fibres went into overdrive and I clutched my drink even harder in *** that I might drop it. Don’t move, I reminded myself, he wants no outward signs on my body to suggest things were anything but normal. But oh my god it was so difficult. You traced both my inner and outer pussy lips (well lubricated with my juices by now) over and over again. Deliberately. For you know me. You know very well that this is one of my favourite things. One of my sacred, nerve enriched places. I was in agony. My pussy muscles were spasming so much now that I knew you could feel them on your finger. I also knew your cock would be rock hard by now too. But there would be no embarrassment for you; your body was half hidden by mine. And as much as I desperately wanted to, I knew better than to turn around and grasp it through your jeans. That would be totally disobedient. This I knew very well from experience. “You will not touch me without permission” was an order I had heard many times.

It was at this point that two things happened simultaneously: I realised that right behind us the barman was looking on; and you plunged your entire finger quickly and ***fully into my soaking, aching, hungry pussy. I wanted to gasp! You knew it. Because you know that I love your finger inside me. I love it desperately; I crave it constantly. Like a drug. With the strangers immediately in front of me, you worked your finger around in my tunnel with the expertise of someone who knows every inch of it. You circled it around inside me, deep. You prodded at my pussy’s walls. You repeatedly probed my cervix. You entered, retreated, then entered again and again. Teasing me. Until finally you decided it was time. Your finger went straight to my G spot. An effortless journey for a Dom who knows exactly where it is. You push on it. Slowly. But firmly. Over and over again. Pumping me. At home I would be squirting now. But we weren’t at home. And I wasn’t allowed to speak or move let alone squirt. I wasn’t allowed to moan. I couldn’t whimper; buck; arch my back; spread my legs wider to open myself fully under your hungry gaze as I love doing; call your name in uncontrollable rapture; push back to increase the pressure of your finger. I could do nothing. React not at all. For you own me and you’ve given me orders. So in that crowded bar, with men I didn’t know standing mere inches away, some of who frequently looked at us, I had to stand there with my drink pretending to be calm and relaxed. My sensitive nipples were tingling and straining against my top. They were aching desperately to be flicked. The left nipple was one of your favourite toys. But I was also ***ful that you would touch them in public. That would be embarrassing……and would be my undoing for certain.

Your finger did not let up its pumping on that precious, glorious spot. My juices started dribbling down my bare legs. I could smell them. Could the strangers in front of me? I thought as I struggled to maintain my composure. I reached for the ring around my neck, not caring if anyone noticed. I sought peace and courage from the hard cold metal. But your finger suddenly changed its rhythm, pace and ***.

I could take no more. An involuntary, primal, guttural moan escaped my lips loudly. Everyone in close proximity heard it and turned to look. Subsequently I think to myself: “you are so weak. Not yet trained sufficiently (as you so often tell me)”. I leaned back onto your tall, muscular body for support, afraid I would collapse from the near orgasmic sensations coursing through my body. But you wouldn’t allow that. You roughly pushed me back to a standing position, albeit helping my body to steady, your firm hand in the small of my back. Your finger remained inside me but had stopped pumping. It had stilled; resting on my G spot firmly but not moving. You were not happy. I knew it. I know you. And I had displeased you.

You reached into your pocket and, without a word, prised one of my hands from my drink and placed something small into my palm, gently closing my fist over it. I knew what it was without looking. Your remote control bullet. You pulled me around to face you and when I saw your eyes I was filled with *** and shame. But also lust. Still not speaking, you looked at me, then looked at the nearby bathroom sign. I understood your order; words were not necessary. As I walked clumsily toward the bathroom, my sandals wet from pussy’s juices, my head was lowered. My eyes downcast. It was a walk of shame.

I belong to you to use and *** as you see fit. Which I love of course. But my role as your sub is to please and obey you. I had just failed in both. My immediate punishment was to be toyed with and teased with varied and intermittent vibrations (controlled entirely by you, at your leisure) in my pussy in public. (This thought shot a thrill of excitement through my body).

But I know you. And so, as I walk the walk of shame, I wonder with trepidation what my real punishment will be once we get home.

Damn reading this gets me hard. Just imagine it happening

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