Choices As the waiter drew the curtain, a chill ran down her spine. She'd heard about Chez Nous...how very exclusive it was, how each u-shaped booth was separated from the others, so that the elite could dine without the stares of onlookers and other uninvited interruptions. She'd read--in some hoity-toity rag, about how no waiter would bother you until you pressed a intercom button on your table, indicating you were ready to order, or to have the next course be served. She'd never dreamt she would find herself dining here one day--and certainly not as a reward for this type of achievement. She didn't kid herself...she knew that the curtain was not about to be opened again anytime soon, how the waiter was not about to be summoned for a long while. He liked to take his time with her, allowing nothing to interrupt their session together. Not until he was finished with her. Completely finished. She looked across the table, past the candles and the orchids, and into his deep, steely blue eyes. They disquieted her, as they always did. But she knew if she dared look away, things would go harshly for her later, so she locked her stare into his, awaiting his words with trepidation... resignation....and hunger. "Close your eyes," he commanded, much to her surprise. He often blindfolded her at home when they had one of their 'talks,' but he had never conducted such a session outside. He said that her lack of sight, as well as the lack of movement he often ensured during such sessions, would make the words travel much deeper, right into the depths of her soul. She had found him to be correct...his words had rooted themselves into her subconscious and captivated her during the hours she and her Master spent apart each day. She closed her eyes and waited, agitated by the minutes of silence that followed. She knew better than to disturb the silence herself...he had left her with a painful reminder of that particular infraction. Suddenly she realized why the booth had become so quiet, and quickly adjusted herself...her hands underneath her butt, her thighs separated, her lips left slightly open. She braced herself, knowing that she would be made to atone for such unforgivable oversights. Damn! After all these weeks, how could she have forgotten? She heard him chuckle to himself, and pictured him planning her penalties, a small smile spreading across his lips as it always did when he decided in which fashion to mete out her daily penance. He waited a few more moments, making her truly own her anxiousness, before his lecture began. "This evening, you will have a treat, my love--the reward of choice," he whispered slowly into her ear. "Tonight, you won't be allowed to hide behind the security of your patented 'Whatever you wish, Master, whatever you like' answers. Instead, you'll order your own treatment, much as I'll order our dinner from the menu. Does that please you, love?" She knew she did not have to speak...the way she fidgeted in place would be answer enough. His voice, his words cascaded across her skin, leaving shivers in their path. He placed his crooked finger under her chin and lifted her face, so that he could ensure that she did not open her eyes, and also to reiterate that he was speaking directly to her...as if this was a standard business discussion. He always seemed to know what to do to deepen her experience with him, and he never held back...always stretching her limits. She tried to remain still. "Tonight, when we leave the restaurant...when I take you outside...would you prefer that I begin your punishment in the alley behind the restaurant, or shall I wait until we get you into the back of the van?" he asked, matter-of-factly, as if he were taking project notes. She hesitated for just a moment, figuring the hesitation, in this case, would be permissible, as she was evaluating her choices. "The van, Sir," she responded slowly...the words almost wrenched from her lips. "Excuse me?" was his harsh reply. She immediately corrected herself. "Please begin my punishment in the van, Master," "Hmmm, of course, my dear, I would be happy to punish you in the van as per your most polite request. But tell me, why is the van your choice?" "Master, I beg you to begin my punishment in the van because there will be less chance of interruption...and I know how you dislike interruption." She felt his finger move from her chin and begin to slowly caress her cheek. "Good answer, love." he murmured approvingly. She leaned her head toward his sweet touch; he did not reprimand the movement. For the moment, she was his pet, and she was enjoying his praise. "When we get into the van," he continued, moving his finger down to trace the inside of her lips, "shall I use ropes or chains to bind your wrist cuffs to the ceiling hooks?" The tone of voice, so matter-of-factly creating the scene in her mind, increased her wetness, which had started from the moment they had sat down together. The finger continued tracing her mouth, awaiting her answer. "Ahhh...it is a hard decision, Sir. I know you love how little give comes with the rope...but how you also enjoy the clanking of the chains. Perhaps one of each, Sir?" "Mmm...you bring up a good point, love....both choices are rather delicious for me. I think the rope, though...we won't want you to have any give at all tonight...and we'll save the chain for your collar. Would that be to your liking, pet?" "Yes, Master, please use the rope on my wrist cuffs and the chain on my collar as you punish me in the van." She smiled inwardly, pleased that she remembered the rule to reiterate the lesson as completely as possible at each turn. His hand moved from her lips, down to her nipples, making tiny circles that drove her mad. The other hand joined his explorations, each circling a breast, and then zeroing in on her nipples, which he pinched and tugged at firmly through her silk shirt, as he loved to do. She found it almost impossible to stay still, her breath had become quite slow and deliberate, her head and back arching slightly, to give him better access. "My love, your enthusiasm is so very infectious, you are getting me quite eager to begin with you. But there are a few more points we must clarify, so you can receive the punishment you have so eloquently requested. Would you prefer I cut your clothes off with my hunting knife, or with my shears?" She knew the knife would take longer, and that he liked to prolong her torture. She opted for the knife, and was rewarded for her speedy reply by his fingers, moving down to her thighs, and then slowing moving inward, one hand invading her pussy while the other began a slow and intense massage of her clit. She gasped with pleasure, in spite of the lessons he'd taught her to remain still at such intrusions, and risked certain punishment by spreading her legs as far as the booth seat would allow, tensing her thigh muscles and trying to will on the orgasm that she knew he would never permit her to have--at least not so quickly and so easily. He continued a few moments longer, teasing her with the pleasure she so yearned for...the pleasure he had denied her for days. But then, as she knew they would, the fingers stopped their dance, but stayed poised on their respective targets as he restarted his interrogation. "One last thing, my pet, and I want you to think about this one carefully, considering the alternatives over dinner before answering me during dessert. Will you do that for me, darling?" "Yes Master," she replied, trying unsuccessfully to squeeze her legs together to force his fingers back into motion. "Tell me, sweet one, in the van, so very private and free from interruption, as your wrists are bound overhead with no give, and your ripped clothes tossed aside, shall I gag you first and rape your tight little cunt, or shall I place a dildo there and another up your ass while I shove my cock down your throat?" And before she could get out the gasp that his choice provoked, he quickly removed his hands from between her legs and rammed the left one deep into her mouth, forcing her to suck her juices from his fingers, and telling her, in no uncertain terms, what he wished her answer to be. She heard him use the other hand to ring for the waiter and tell the intercom in a most calm and commanding tone, "You may take our order now, please."
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