We push through double doors into a stylish restaurant, causing me to dig in my six-inch heels.
Oh.
He’s brought me to a classy restaurant.
Dameon stops and looks back at me. The horror on my face must clue him into my thoughts, because he leans down and whispers into my ear, “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Look at the people. What do you see?”
The tightness in my chest eases slightly, allowing me to take a deep breath and steady my racing heart. I glance around, taking note of the patrons for the first time. The restaurant is full, every table occupied by couples, with a few tables hosting small groups, like double dates. Only one table stands out, with four men and one woman. Everyone is dressed impeccably, but as I stare, the subtle details that I hadn’t noticed initially become apparent.
One woman’s dress is completely transparent, while another is writhing in her seat, seemingly teetering on the brink of orgasm. At a different table, a gentleman is hand-feeding his companion, and she sensually licks his fingers clean after every bite.
Suddenly I’m enveloped by it—the overwhelming sexual tension that chokes the room. It’s a level of intensity I’ve never experienced before, not even at Eden. The heat of it almost suffocates me. I suck in a quiet breath, my eyes widening as I take in the scene before me, trying to absorb every detail.
“You’ll fit right in. Trust me,” he assures me, pulling me through the restaurant by my hand. This time, everyone takes notice; the women offer friendly smiles, while the men’s eyes openly appreciate my scantily clad body. I hold my head high and follow Dameon, proud to be on his arm. As we reach our booth, he gestures for me to slide in first before joining me. The shift of the plug inside me serves as a reminder that I’m stuffed to the brim. Or rim, in this case.
A waiter approaches and begins detailing the menu options and specials. His attention is solely on Dameon, so I tune him out, observing the couples around us. I do a double-take when I catch sight of a woman kneeling under a table. With the red soles of her stilettos peeking out from beneath the tablecloth and the unmistakable expression of pleasure dancing across her partner’s face, there’s no denying what’s happening. I burst into giggles, drawing Dameon’s attention.
“What would you like to eat?”
“Whatever you would like me to eat,” I reply automatically, ignoring the frown that creases his brow. Too bad. If he wants a traditional submissive, that’s exactly what he’ll get. I wasn’t paying attention to the waiter anyway. Dameon orders for us both before dismissing the waiter. As he stretches his arm across the back of the booth and leans in close, his delicious scent surrounds me, tempting me to close my eyes and breathe him in.
He grips my jaw firmly and locks eyes with mine. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs. “Every man in this restaurant wants you. I saw the way they looked at you, wanting to possess you, stuff you full of their cum. But they can’t, can they? Because you belong to me, don’t you, kitten?”
“Yes, master,” I reply breathlessly, but his frown deepens.
“Perhaps I should give them a taste, show them what they’re missing,” he muses. My breath catches at his suggestion. “Your oral skills are unmatched. They’d be envious once they experience what you can do with that tongue of yours.” His fingers squeeze my cheeks together, and he nibbles on my lower lip that juts out. I’m dripping wet from his words. I don’t want to be, but I can’t help the way my body is wired. The idea of pleasuring others for him is exhilarating, but the reality is not that enticing. I don’t want to be passed around, not like this.
“If that’s what my master desires.” I attempt to mask my unease, but he pulls back in disbelief. I peer into his angry eyes and can’t, for the life of me, work him out. I’m giving him exactly what he wants. Why is he reacting this way?
The waiter approaches with our entrées, and Dameon retrieves a remote from his pocket and activates it. The butterfly vibrator nestled against my clit hums to life at a low intensity, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. I bite back a moan, knowing he has every intention of torturing me tonight. With a sinful smirk, Dameon begins to feed me my meal by hand, his fingers lingering in my mouth as I suck and lick them eagerly, like the kitten he wants me to be.
“How do these feel?” He lightly traces circles around my nipple through the tight band that holds my tits in place. A whimper slips from my lips this time, as the pressure of the nipple clamps heightens every sensation. The slightest touch will make me come.
“Sensitive, master,” I manage to gasp out, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” he murmurs. He pulls the band down, exposing my tits to his hungry gaze, and ravenously sucks a clamped nipple into his mouth. My body instantly convulses in my seat as the climax hits me head on. I throw my head back with a silent scream, and I can do nothing but surrender to the sensation, letting it consume me.
“Stunning. You come so prettily,” he whispers, his words a soothing balm as my orgasm ebbs.
“Thank you, master,” I utter breathlessly, mentally pulling myself together. Not daring to adjust the band without his command, my hands remain by my side, leaving my chest exposed.
Suddenly, a piercing wail disrupts the atmosphere, and we turn toward the source—the table occupied by the group of men. Their companion lies naked upon the table, serving as a surface for their dessert as they dine off her. She’s in absolute heaven, her body trembling in the aftermath of an intense orgasm.
“Looks like they’re having a feast. Although, that’s a lot of dick for only three holes.” He locks eyes with me, a wicked glint dancing in this gaze.
“Get on your hands and knees and crawl over to them. Offer them the use of this pretty little mouth of yours,” he commands, his eyes dropping to my lips. “If they decline, move onto the next table until you’ve serviced four men in this restaurant. I want you to swallow every drop they offer you.”
What. The. Fuck.
I stare into his beautiful sea-green eyes, desperately hoping he’s not serious. But his face is etched into stone… He’s deadly serious. This must be a test. A test of my obedience to determine whether I can fulfill my role as his perfect submissive. The word “red” lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back. Sharing, subject to his discretion, was a clause in the contract that I willingly signed. My hesitation hangs heavy in the air between us.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
That’s the thing—I don’t mind being shared. In fact, I love it. I enjoy the feeling of being watched, desired, wanted. If it were my old Dameon asking, and this was just a fun, kinky date we were on, I would do it in a heartbeat. But it’s not. He’s pushing me to say no so he can use it against me, to remind me that I’m not doing my job. There’s a part of me that’s tempted to say “yes, master” just to gauge his reaction. But my dignity is worth more than that.
I look deep into his tumultuous eyes and murmur, “Red.” The word escapes in a whisper, so faint I’m not even sure he caught it. He remains stoic, but then, in a sudden shift, he closes his eyes and exhales a relieved, “Thank fuck.” Running his hands down his face, he slumps back into the chair, the tension draining from his features like water gushing from a broken dam. He looks utterly spent. I’m baffled, trying to make sense of it all.
“Wait a minute, you didn’t really want me to do it?” I ask.
