Marta is James’ eager sex slave and slut. He told her he wanted to take her out to dinner, and that he wanted her to look like a slut. She went beyond what he had asked, and appeared naked except for high heels, a dress that was three inches too short, and a white fox tail that was attached to a butt plug, and hung down to her knees behind her. Plus her dog collar and wrist and ankle cuffs, of course.

As a result of the short dress, when she walked, her dress flipped up and exposed her naked pussy to the people around her.

After they were seated and had drinks, Sir ordered her to go to the Ladies room, finger herself, then paint her cunt juices in the places where she would normally dab perfume so that she would smell like the eager, sopping cunt she was.

What neither of them realized, when she got up to comply, was that two other women got up and followed her to the Ladies…

On My Own: Marta

I walked into the Ladies room and looked around. Fortunately, it was empty at the moment, so I turned away from the door, pulled up my skirt, and put two fingers into myself, getting a liberal coating of my own amply available juices.

I was just starting to apply it behind my ears when the door swung open, and an older woman entered with an angry look on her face. “You’re a tramp, do you know that? And you’re destroying the nice supper my husband and I were supposed to have.”

I straightened up. Even though I was blushing, I had had to deal with being accosted this way for years and was used to staring such people down. “Sorry, honey child,” I said in a fake Southern accent, “You’re mistaken. I'm not a tramp. I am a slut. Not that it’s any of your business.”

The other woman looked surprised by my comment, and quite taken aback. She had no idea what else to say. I calmly walked over the sinks, looked in the mirror, took out my lipstick, and started to re-apply a thick coat.

“You know, sugar,” I said meditatively, “the official name for this lipstick is ‘Candy-Sucker Red’, but everyone knows its real name is ‘Cocksucker Red’. I expect to need it before the night is over.”

I leaned over, looked at myself in the mirror, pressed my lips together to spread the lipstick, then opened my lips with a “pop” and smiled at her in the mirror.

“Want to borrow it? I’m sure your husband would enjoy it more than a ‘nice supper.’” And I held the lipstick out to her.

Now it was her turn to blush, then she turned and almost ran out of the room, just about knocking over the second woman to enter.

“Good for you,” the woman said. “Busybodies like that need to be taken down a peg, and you sure did!”

I wasn’t prepared for this, and didn’t know quite what to say. She was an attractive, well-dressed woman, with red hair who was probably in her fifties, but working hard to not show it. She had a warm smile.

“You’re a submissive, aren’t you? The dog collar and wrist and ankle cuffs are about as subtle as a billboard.”

After a moment, I said, “Why do you ask? And what business is it of yours?”

“Why, none, of course. But I admire the way you’re pulling this off. God, you must have brass balls – no offence!”

I felt uncertain, and said, “Thanks, I guess. Can I help you, or did you just come in here to use the loo?”

“No, I came in here to offer applause, but I’m thinking that your master sent you in here to do something, um, personal. Maybe I can run interference for you?”

I thought for a moment, then reluctantly nodded, “I’m not allowed to use the toilet stalls, but need to do something – personal. Could you manage to keep people out for a few minutes?”

“I’ll bet he’s told you to masturbate, so, sure. How much time do you need?”

“No; at least not yet. Maybe three or four minutes?”

“Done. Take your time.” And she pushed back out of the restroom, letting the door close behind her.

Wearing My Cunt Juices: Marta

I took a deep, shaky breath, pulled up my skirt, scooped out two more fingers of my juices, which showed no signs of being in short supply, and applied them behind my ears, and in the hollow of my throat, inside my elbows, then two more fingers, applying it under my arms, and kept going, applying it liberally. Finally, I took some, rubbed my hands together and wiped it lightly over my hair.

Then I wiped my hands on a towel, and went to the door. I pulled it open to find my – friend – waiting with her back to the door. I said, “Done – and thanks.”

“My pleasure.” And she went into the restroom.

When I went back to the table, Sir stood up and said, “That woman said you were feeling unwell. Are you okay?”

I wasn’t quite sure what to say, so told him what had happened.

He looked worried, and said, “I should never have sent you in alone. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

I took his hand and kissed it. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle. My only worry was that you obviously wanted to humiliate me by having me finger myself in the restroom in front of other women, and she prevented that from happening. I hope I haven’t disappointed you.” And dropped my eyes.

He kissed me on the cheek, and brought me back to sit down. I re-arranged myself with my skirt lifted, front and back, so my bare ass was sitting on the banquette, with my legs wide spread, and my cunt was exposed. I did not replace the tablecloth, reasoning that it was Sir’s prerogative. Then I took his hand and put it between my legs and shivered. He pulled the table cloth over my legs, to my relief.

“She upset you, that first woman, didn’t she?”

I shrugged, “I’m used to it. I’ve had it most of my life. But yes, it upset me.”

Just then the second woman came over to our table. Sir stood up, came around and offered his hand. “I understand I owe you our thanks. I very much appreciate what you did.”

She waved it away. “It was nothing. I’ve been there myself.” She smiled.  “But I maybe have something you two might find fun.” And she handed James a card.

He looked down at it, and his eyebrows went up. He laughed out loud, then handed it to me.

“Learn how to strip!” It said. “Get onstage on amateur night! Show the world what you’re really made of!”

And there was a name, “Candi Striper” and phone number, followed by the title “Ecdysiast Instructor. Ecdysiasts of the world unite! You have nothing to lose!”

James smiled at her and said, “We will certainly talk it over. Is this you? And thank you again.”

“Yes, that’s – one – of my names. I’m glad I could help.” And she walked back to her table.

James thought for a minute, then signalled to Arthur, who walked over as James returned to his seat.

“Yes, Mr. Gainsborough?”

“Arthur, did you see that women I was just talking to?”

“Of course, sir. She comes here regularly with different companions.”

“Would you send them a bottle of champagne, please?”

“Certainly, Mr. Gainsborough.” And he departed.

Sir leaned over and sniffed my neck. “Perfect. You smell just the way I wanted. I hope everyone around us appreciates it.”

I blushed deep red, and nodded.

“And here comes Anton. Good evening, mon ami!” He stepped out from behind the table again and hugged and kissed both cheeks of the tall, slim man in the even taller chef’s hat. He returned the affection, then turned to me.

Chef Anton bent over my hand and kissed it, sniffed at my fingers, then straightened up and let his gaze linger on my dog collar with a faint smile. I blushed, but held his gaze. He then quizzed us about what kinds of foods we liked, and if we had any favorite ways of liking them.

At the end, he gave a sharp nod, and said, “We will bring you something good, yes?” and sauntered off. Neither of us had touched a menu. I learned later that he took it as a challenge to create something specific for a diner, not based on what was on the menu, but rather what the diner enjoyed. He loved to rise to the challenge, and I can vouch for the results. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a better meal.

And all through the meal, Sir had been feeling me up, stroking my thighs, putting his fingers in my cunt, massaging my G-spot and clit, but at a slow, simmering pace that denied me the release of cumming.

And while all of that was happening below the table cloth, Sir kept me well plied with wine, even though I was drinking slowly and carefully, plus he made sure my water glass was always full.

The meal passed in a haze of sybaritic enjoyment, conversation, pleasure, and a simmering, but constantly rising, level of wetness and excitement. I remember on several occasions shivering with excitement, wriggling my ass on the seat, and being aware of the growing pool of my juices underneath me.

A Flogging Offence: Marta

But, of course, there was an inevitable result: I now desperately needed to pee, and I knew Sir had been waiting for me to bring up the subject.

“My lord…”

“Yes, slut?”

I blushed, and started again, “My lord, I don’t quite know what to do. I very much need to pee, but don’t see how to beg for your permission.”

“Of course you do, don’t you?”

“But Sir, how can I take your cock in my mouth here?”

“Well, first you unzip my fly, then you lean over, and proceed as usual. I doubt it will take long for you to get me hard, though.”

The pulse beat strongly in my neck while I tried to find words. “My lord, I’m not sure that I can do that, uh, safely.”

He looked at me and said, “Did you, or did you not, say you would do anything I wanted?”

I nodded, then slowly reached over to unzip his fly, and began to lean forward into his lap.

His hand intercepted me. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you an alternative. I’ll allow you to go to the toilet without asking me properly if you will agree to receiving fifty strokes with a new flogger I just got on your bare ass and pussy when we return home.”

My head was muzzy from the wine, but I drew my breath in sharply, then nodded, “Sir, it would be my pleasure to be flogged by you for any reason, or none at all, if it would please you.”

He nodded. “And I’ll make it even better. On a scale of zero to ten, how badly do you need to pee?”

“Almost ten, sir. I’ve been undecided how to ask you, and so have waited too long.”

“Excellent! Then let me offer you a sweetener. For every minute more you delay, starting now, I’ll take one stroke off the total. But if you pee on the floor, I’ll double the total to 100. Agreed?”

I nodded. I really didn’t have any choice.

I desperately wanted to clamp my legs together, but Sir reached between them, and began caressing my thighs, labia, cunt, G-spot, and clit again, this time upping the tempo. I was now fighting two almost complementary impulses: the need to pee, and the need to cum, and they both were pushing me in the same direction at a rapid pace.

I started open-mouth panting, even though I was aware that a number of people were surreptitiously watching me. I do not know how long this went on, but I finally decided I could not wait any longer.

“Please, Sir, I really must go now. Will you excuse me?”

He made a show of consulting his watch and said, “Fourteen minutes, which reduces your strokes to thirty-six. Off you go, then.”

I got up in such a hurry that I almost pulled the table cloth off the table, and I did get up too quickly for my skirt to fall back into place, which meant that anyone watching me – as some were when I attracted their eyes by standing up – got a real eyeful as I hurriedly got down from the alcove and walked quickly to the Ladies’.

I just barely made it, and actually got pee on my feet and shoes before I was able to pull my tail clear and sit down. I didn’t manage to properly shut the stall door, so I pushed it closed, and held it with my hand until the pressure on my bladder was finally released somewhat. At that point, I got up, locked the stall door, then used toilet paper to mop up my shoes and toes.

I leaned back and took a deep breath, relieved, then realized that my cunt and clit were actually pulsing. Almost against my will, my hands reached down between my thighs and I started stroking myself, breathing heavily, with my eyes closed.

I realized that I absolutely must stop, but I had been on edge all day, getting close to cumming so many times, and then being denied, that my hands and my cunt seemed to have a life of their own. Part of me said that Sir would never know, and that the release would be wonderful, but another part said he would know instantly, and I would have disappointed him.

Finally, I leaned far forward, and clapped my legs together, trapping my hands between my torso and my thighs, and breathing hard, fighting to regain control. In desperation, I bit the fleshy bit between my thumb and index finger of my left hand, hoping the pain would slow the impulse.

Slowly, slowly I fought the climax back until finally I was able to sit upright. I took a long, shaky breath, stood up, pulled my dress back down, adjusted my tail, and walked slowly and unsteadily to the wash basins to wash my hands.

“Are you okay?” It was my friend and saviour from before.

I nodded, not very convincingly.

“You just came, didn’t you?” she asked.

“No – but it was close.”

She smiled, “He’s forbidden you, hasn’t he?”

I nodded again.

“Do you love him?”

I looked at her sharply, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m capable of love. But if I could love someone, I would choose him.’

“Because he’s your master?”

“No, because he’s almost the first person in my entire life who has cared what happened to me. Who has taken care of me. And because he is a good and honorable man…”

Then I smiled, “…with a fortunate kink.”

She laughed. “You are a lucky girl.” And she leaned over, tipped the disk on my dog collar up so she could read what it said: "I AM A SLUT, A CUNT, AND A COCKSUCKER".

She smiled, kissed me on the cheek, then slapped me hard on the ass and walked calmly out.

I blushed furiously, then looked myself over in the mirror, wiped perspiration off my forehead with a towel, took another deep breath, settled myself, then went out to be his fucktoy.

Climax: Sir

I watched Marta with both great fondness, and greater anticipation, as she walked, slowly and provocatively, and with her tail twitching, back to the table.

With her bladder pressure released, she looked both more relaxed, and yet, in some undefinable way, tenser. When she reached the table, but before she sat down, she took my hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Sir, for your dispensation. I am looking forward to being flogged by you.”

Then she moved back to sit down, taking care to arrange her tail, lift her skirt at the back and sit bare on the banquette, then raise her skirt in front to reveal her nakedness. Then she reached over and took my hand, kissed it again, and placed it between her legs. I reached up, pulled the tablecloth across her legs, then burrowed under it to stroke her cunt.

We had finished supper, so I said, “And now for one of, if not the, best desserts you’ve ever had.” And he signalled to Arthur, who finished talking with the couple a few tables away, then bustled over. “Arthur, would you be so kind as to ask Anton to prepare two of his chocolate lava cakes?”

“Of course, Mr. Gainsborough. You do know it will take about twenty minutes?”

“Yes, I know. We’re in no hurry, Arthur. In fact, would you ask the servers to give us some privacy until it’s ready, then give me a sign and wait until I ask you to serve?”

“It would be our pleasure, sir.” He gave a short bow and moved away.

I turned to Marta and said, “And now, my precious slut, for the main event.”

She shivered, but said, “At your pleasure, my lord.”

“First, hand me the control to your tail.”

I picked up my clutch purse, opened it, and handed him the remote. He looked it over, found the button he wanted, and pushed it. A vibration started in my ass. He pressed it four more times, and the vibrations grew.

“Now I’d like to introduce you to your new, closest friend…” Her eyes opened wide when I opened the satchel by my left side, and took out a long, pink-colored dildo, about three inches thick, with lots of slightly exaggerated ridges and veins, and a ball sack at the end. I placed it on the table in plain view.

“It has eight speeds,” I went on. “I want to see it in your cunt.” Then I lifted the tablecloth so I could watch as she did it.

She swallowed, and started to speak, then stopped, swallowed again and took it.

“And please be sure to put it on its highest setting.”

“Sir, I must confess that I was very close to cumming in the Ladies’ room just now. It took all I had to stop myself. If you make me do this, I, I, I’m sorry my lord, but I will cum. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Good!”

She looked up sharply at me.

“You remember how you told me that a fantasy of yours was to masturbate in public?”

She was still for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“You're going to do so, right now, and I’m going to watch. And each time you cum, I will reduce the number of times you will be flogged by five. Now, get started.” This last was delivered with iron in his voice.

A Dildo for Dessert: Marta

I took the dildo, looked at it, then looked around the room. We didn’t seem to be attracting quite as much interest as before – except for my red-headed friend, who was unobtrusively watching us and smiling.

The dildo was dry, so I leaned forward and tried, surreptitiously, to put it in my mouth, starting with the tip, and running down one side, then up the other. I was shocked – it was awfully big going in my mouth, and I wondered how in hell it would fit in my cunt. I finally pooled spit into my palm, then rubbed it around the dildo. Next, I moved the tip in a circular motion around my vulva, slowly lubricating it and working it inside my vagina.

Once I had it started, I gently but steadily turned and pushed it in as far as it would go into my cunt, with just a short length and the balls sticking out of my cunt.

I was stretched more than I had ever been before, feeling unnaturally full, especially in combination with the fox tail butt plug in my ass. It made me feel as if I were being skewered, yet I found it intensely exciting in masochistic way. And although I was uncomfortable, my cunt was flowing so much I was actually dripping on the banquette.  Then I reached down to the end and switched it on.

It started to buzz. I quickly pushed the button several more times, by which time I was sure that everyone in the room could hear it. I looked up, but the noise of the crowd seemed to have swallowed the sound. No one – no one new – was looking our way.

I leaned back, one hand on the dildo, awkwardly moving it in and out, and the other vigorously rubbing my clit. I was desperate to cum by this time, but the thought of what I was doing made me ashamed, and kept the tantalizing edge of cumming just beyond my reach.

Then Sir put his arm around me, bracing me on the banquette, and leaned across to whisper in my ear, “Do you have any idea what you look like, cunt? What kind of a filthy tart would do what you're doing? Sitting here on display, in public, practically naked, fucking your dripping pussy with an enormous dildo? Only the filthiest, dirtiest, cocksucking whore would even consider doing this in private, and here you are doing it with the whole room watching you. And, you are a cocksucker, aren't you? You can't wait to feel my dick fill your throat, gagging you, making tears run down your cheeks, making the mascara run down your face. And of course you want to swallow my cum, too, don't you? Wave after wave of cum, choking you, overfilling your mouth, dripping off your chin onto your tits, showing everyone what a sleezy, fucking slut you are. So, prove that you're a dirty, filthy slut. Cum for me. Now.”

The images he painted in my head pushed me over the edge. Between my already extreme arousal, the butt plug massaging my ass, the dildo vibrating and distending my vagina, plus his whispered obscenities, I felt an enormous wave rising, then breaking over me, gripping my throat, making my body tingle and my ass squirm. I turned my head into Sir’s coat, and screamed – as quietly as I could – into it, hoping the sound wouldn’t travel into the room. I wanted to buck and thrash around, but didn’t dare, and somehow supressing the urge compressed it, and made it even more intense.

It went on and on until I finally collapsed, exhausted, and whispered into his ear, “Please, my lord, please let me turn them off for a moment. Please. I’ll leave them in, but please let me turn them off!”

He turned his face to me, smiled, and said, “All right, but just to catch your breath. You’re not done cumming yet.”

And just his words were enough to set me off again. I arched my back, biting my lips to keep my mouth closed, and deliberately went rigid to avoid moving too much.

“Hello again.”

It was a woman’s voice, and I jerked upright, shocked at being caught in the act of fucking myself. It was my red-headed friend, and I blushed furiously, and dropped my eyes to my lap, almost dropping my head to the table, and wishing I could crawl under it.

“I just – came – over to provide a bit of cover,” she said to Sir. “I’m standing so that my body blocks the view of your sub’s obvious, violent orgasm. I doubt most people have a clue what’s going on, but to someone who knows, it’s quite obvious what she’s doing with her cunt. Plus, I hope you don’t mind, but I’d love to watch your slave cum again.”

Sir stared at her for a moment, then smiled and said, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Please, do stay.” Then he turned to me and said, “Put on a show for the nice lady, cunt. Cum for us. Show her what a slut you really are.”

I was mortified but my body responded despite my humiliation – or perhaps because of it. My hands moved without my telling them to do so. My left hand started working the dildo in and out again, while my right hand was rapidly massaging my clit and the area around it. And I came again. Violently.

I couldn’t help but thrash about, even as I tried to restrain myself. Sir put his knee against mine to brace me from slipping down any further on the banquette, and leaned over, wrapped his arm all the way around me, and kissed my hair to cover my movement. The wave finally crested, and I collapsed on his shoulder.

Sir's voice changed, and he said, gently, “I think that’s enough for now, Maria. You may turn it off and give the dildo back to me.” Meanwhile, he switched the butt plug’s vibrations off with the remote.

With shaking hands, I reached down and pushed the button to turn the dildo off, then paused, both to catch my breath, but also because I found myself reluctant to remove it from my cunt. The whorish part of my brain was thrilled that I was being humiliated and punished, and wanted it to continue, to make it worse. Indeed, something inside me wanted to get up and show people what was going on, stand on the table, spread my legs wide, and fuck myself raw while everyone watched. Something inside me had changed.

I took a deep breath, fought the urge, and slowly pulled the enormous dildo out of me. It came with a loud, slurping noise, and I blushed again.

Sir took and wrapped it in a napkin, put it back in his satchel, then turned to our – friend. “I’m James, and this is Maria,” he said.

“I’m pleased to meet you both. I’m Andromeda, and that is my companion, Ganymede.” She pointed to her dinner companion, who waved and smiled back at us.

They were obvious pseudonyms, but I understood. After all, I was being Maria tonight, wasn’t I? Then I wondered: What pleasures were they planning with each other tonight?

“Perhaps we might meet for – coffee – sometime?” Andromeda asked.

“That might be interesting,” James said. “Meanwhile, enjoy the rest of your meal.” She nodded, winked at me, and went back to her table.

Something Has Changed: Marta

Even before she left, I realized some part me had changed, and I wasn't quite sure why. I only knew that it was true, that it scared the hell out of me, and that it was beyond my control.

Before, I had chosen to be Sir's sex slave, and had wanted it badly. But something had happened during my orgasms, while I was proving myself to be the filthy cunt and slut Sir was telling me I was. Something changed inside of me, something way past my understanding.

I no longer had a choice about being his slut, his slave, his whore.

He owned me now.

To be continued…

© Copyright, J.L. Gainsborough, November 2020.