Given the cultural mores of today, people might look at us and believe I am the bitch in the relationship…oh, how little they know. We arrive downtown at the restaurant and you wait for me to open your door and help you out of the vehicle. We walk toward the entrance, my hand on the small of your back guiding you, and yes, I open that door as well and guide you inside. You’ve learned not to reach for doors around me, I’ve beat your ass red many times for doing so. When we get to our table, I pull your chair out and let you ease into it…I’m sure your ass is still sore. When we both decide what we want, you do me the honor and tell the waiter what we are each having.
Anyone who understands would look at me and see the intensity in which I look at you, almost like I’m willing you to feel me from across the table. No, Pet, I am definitely not your bitch. It was just a sort time ago I decided that you needed to me inside of you, hard, rough, intense, and right fucking now. Of course you struggled a bit and objected, that’s our game. But when you felt me against you and knew how much I wanted to possess you, to claim you, you knew you had no other option. You belong to me, I own you. Bent over the bathroom sink, you looked at me in the mirror while I manhandled you, and pushed my cock into your ass. The pressure was strong, the resistance fighting me…I like that. Of course, I encouraged you to play with that pussy I own while I sunk my teeth into your shoulder and took what was mine. Ass fucking can be very intimate, but you submit to me, and as I’m ready to cum, take me in your mouth. What you don’t swallow drips onto your chest and I tell you to leave it…let everyone know that you are mine. I know you didn’t cum, I didn’t give you permission….but I really like watching you, your fingers or toys on your clit, in that tight cunt, watching you move your hips and hearing you moan…damn, that gets me every time. But we have to go. So you put your dress on and finish getting ready.
It’s not quite dark as we drive down the road, I can smell you, how wet you are, the ache must be maddening because your hands are between your legs and I can see your fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. I reach over and pull the top of your dress down, exposing your tits to anyone driving by…I whisper, “Go ahead, Pet, cum for me.”
While we are eating, I look at you, and ask, “So, are your panties still wet?” And you shift in your seat, blush a little and smile, reminded that they are, because I told you to stuff them inside your cunt.
They just don’t understand, those people around us, and they never will.