Puzzled, I lifted up the little black party dress and looked at it. Being very careful not to look at you or question you, I put the dress on. It was one of your favourites, you had told me that many times before. It had little spaghetti straps with tiny black bows where the strap met the material in front. The bodice was fitted chiffon, pleated tightly and hugged my breasts. Tonight, with the help of the corset, it hugged especially tight, stretching the pleats almost enough to make out the nipple clamps. Certainly my nipples were clearly visible as they stood at attention and pushed against the fabric. A glittery rhinestone pin strategically placed in the middle of the bodice ensured that ones attention would be drawn to my breasts. From the fitted bodice, the rest of the dress fell loosely in empire flowing folds making the skirt full and flirty right to the tip of about 3 inches above my knee. The length of it made it appropriate for any type of event; the cut and style of it allowed you easy access should you wish it at any time while we were out.

You came around the bed to where I had dressed and unclipped my leash. “Turn,” was all you said and I turned so my back was to you. You reached up and undid my collar, removing it from my neck. I was wearing more clothes than I had been since you arrived home and yet I suddenly felt naked and vulnerable. Grabbing me roughly by the arm, you guided me by my elbow to the dresser and mirror where you opened my jewellery case and pulled out the diamond choker you had given me as my formal collar, along with the matching tennis bracelet and earrings. “Put these on and meet me at the door,” you ordered and then left the room.

Blinking back the tears of disappointment that threatened to spill out of my eyes, I hurried to do as you bid. I knew that I had done wrong and deserved any punishment you dished out but I had hoped that the spanking you had already given me would suffice. Your terse commands told me otherwise. I sighed deeply as I patted my hair, making a few minor adjustments to it before heading towards the door to meet you.

You were there, waiting for me, when I came around the corner. I dropped my eyes immediately, knowing you would not stand for me to look directly at you unless you told me to do so. It was clear that I would continue to be punished and I was determined to act appropriately until you flashed your winning smile at me and told me I was forgiven. Expecting that we would be leaving immediately, I was shocked at your next words. “Come here, slut. Lift your dress.”

I hesitated for a split second, and then stepped forward to you. I stopped directly in front of you and reached down to take the hem of my dress in both hands and lifted it up to waist level. Putting your hand under my chin, you lifted my head indicating I should look at you. I raised my eyes to yours and listened as you listed your demands for the evening. “This evening, you will do well to remember that you are my Whore. You are accompanying me purely for My pleasure. Yours is not important. You will not speak to anyone other than me, and only then when I have spoken directly to you and asked you for a response. Do you understand me?” I nodded even as I answered in a whisper, “Yes, Master.”

Satisfied, you nodded and continued, “You will not look at anyone other than me unless I direct you to do so. You will obey my every command without the slightest hesitation or you will be punished further. And….” A gleam entered your eyes and for the first time since you found out I had been shopping without your permission, a smile crept onto your face. But there was something about this smile that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. You held up your other hand as you finished your thought… “you will wear this.” You held up the butterfly and paused for effect, “and I will have the remote.” Realizing at least partially what you had in store for me, a deep blush crept up to color my face even as you released my chin and knelt before me to fasten the butterfly securely between my legs.

Righting yourself, the wicked gleam brightened in your eyes as you held up the remote for me to see and then tucked it into the pocket of your sports coat. Reaching out, you took my hand, and led me out of the house. The gentle touch of your hand holding mine made my heart swell with happiness. For that brief moment before we got in the car, I could actually imagine that we were a regular couple going out for the evening. But as I settled into the passenger seat of the car, my tender ass reminded me of my recent punishment and I pondered again what you might have in store for the rest of the evening as I waited for you to round the car and slide behind the wheel.

We had barely pulled out of the driveway when you glanced over at me and casually said “Raise your dress. I want to see your thighs.” I immediately did so and then lowered my hands once again, fidgeting with them to find a comfortable position where they would not block the view you had asked for. I didn’t have to worry about it for before long, you said, “Recline your seat. Put your feet up on the dash and make sure your legs are spread. I want to be able to see My pussy.” You emphasized the “my” and then turned your eyes back to the road. I swallowed nervously and glanced out the window as I reached for the knob to recline my seat. It’s not like we were on a deserted country road like we were the last time you requested I assume this position. No, we were driving on one of the main roads of the city, heading straight towards the busy downtown area. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer that I would summon the emotional strength to make it through this evening. It seemed you were determined to push my limits this evening, as I had been pushing yours for the past week or so. I cursed myself silently for ever deciding to see how much I could get away with and especially for deciding to hit the mall without permission earlier this afternoon. It seemed that had been the final straw.

I wiggled uneasily as I settled back into the reclined seat and carefully raised my legs to place my feet on the dash. My right foot nestled in the crook by the passenger side window, and my left foot rested below the rear view mirror. I adjusted the hem of my dress once more, lifting it to waist level so that my pussy, with the butterfly securely attached to it, would be clearly visible to you. “Raise your hands above your head, Slave,” you ordered as you reached out and grabbed my left ankle, pulling it further along the dash to open my legs more widely, “clasp your hands under the head rest of your seat and do not move them unless I permit it.” My eyes widened in surprise as you positioned my leg, and I moved my hands to do as you requested.

<o></o>

I could not tell where we were from what I could see out of the car window but as I felt the car slowing, I found myself praying that we were not stopping at a busy intersection. Embarrassingly, my prayers were not answered and as we sat at the red light, a large truck pulled up beside us. I saw the snide grin of the filthy looking driver of the truck and his ‘thumbs up’ as I swallowed and closed my eyes in shame. The chain on the nipple clamps was long enough, and the body of my dress loose enough, that it hung down and rested on my stomach. You reached over and grabbed onto it, giving it a yank that had my eyes flying open in shock and that exquisite pain. The driver of the truck was running his tongue over his lips hungrily as he stared down into the window. I whimpered. Not soon enough the light turned green and we were on our way once more.

You pulled the car into a parking spot near the restaurant, one of your favourites, and came around to open my door. “Get out,” was all you said. I lifted my legs down from the dash and got out of the car quickly, my dress falling back to its normal position as I stood. “Turn around, hands on the roof. Lean forward and spread your legs.” I did so immediately, breathing a silent sigh of relief the other than cars, the parking lot was empty and somewhat secluded. You came up behind me swiftly and I felt your hand reach under my dress to cup my behind, squeezing tightly, almost painfully. “Remember your manners this evening, slut,” you commented as your hand left my bottom and lifted my skirt away. Your other hand raised and lowered quickly and hardly, twice, leaving an angry red handprint on each of my cheeks, which started the burning all over again. “Let’s go,” you ordered as you reached up to take one of my arms down from the roof of the car and tucked it into your own arm, escorting me into the restaurant.

“Good evening, Mr Elliott,” the hostess greeted you as we entered. “Your usual table is ready Sir, please follow me.” She led us to the table we had dined at many times before, in a corner quiet enough for privacy if that is what was wanted, but also central enough that one could see all the other diners, and they could see you. Oftentimes in the past I had considered myself so lucky that my husband’s consulting business was so successful that we could, at any time, be seated at the best table in the house in any number of top restaurants. Tonight, I was not so sure that a high profile table was as desirable. Steering me by my elbow, we followed the hostess through the busy dining room, you nodding and smiling in greeting at several people you knew, and I, with my head lowered and silent.