We were at a fine restaurant, my indecent act masked by a white linen tablecloth.
“Mmm.” He fondles my ass, his large hand a whisper over my skin compared to the assault he’s making my hands impose over my aroused nipples and clit, andI love it.“What did you do for our handsome waiter who couldn’t stop staring at your gorgeous tits that belong to me?”
I wore a forest-green wrap dress that day, putting my cleavage on proud display for Loch. I didn’t realize other men also liked it.
Of course,Lochdid.
“My master told me to tell the waiter what I was doing. How I was fingering my wet pussy for you, Sir.”
“Ahem.” Our lone woman guest coughs, excited by our story.
“Mmm,” Loch approves, making me glance down, spotting the precum wetting his briefs. I lick my lips for it while he coaxes, “Did your pleasure make him hard for you?”
I glance back up, meeting his aqua eyes.Loch fucked me so hard that night, reminding me who I belonged to, as if I’d ever forget.“Yes, Sir. His dick was hard for me.”
“And what did you do for your dessert, DirtTGirl?”
He nods toward our guests, making me look at them and proudly confess, “I asked the waiter to watch my face while I came, locked to your eyes and fingering my wet pussy like a DirtTGirl for you, Sir, before I snuck under the table and sucked your cock.”
There, I said it. I did it, and regret nothing.
I’d never felt so powerful in my life, on my knees, choking on his dick under a table. Loch was so hard and aroused, he came in seconds.
“Fucking hell, you two.” Harry admires our story.
It’s funny. Feral, actually, how orgasmic something can be between humans without a touch exchanged.
“When you sat back in your chair, did the waiter watch you swallow my cum?” Loch spanks my ass.
“Yes, Sir,” I cry out, shaking, remembering, loving. Heat blooms across my ass.
“Did that make my DirtTGirl come again while you fingered your pussy for me?”
“Yes, Sir.Please.”
“Do it now.” He spanks me again. “Show them how you come for me.”
Loch’s trained me how to do this.
How sex is in my mind, as much as my body. How I can let go and groan, allowing my edges to crack with the ripple of an orgasm through me. It’s a little release when I need so much more, and he knows it.
“Good girl,” he praises. “Now, drop your hands.” I do, panting, sweating. “Kneel and lick the drops of your reward.”
I’m wobbling as Loch takes my elbow, guiding me to the floor. We do this at home. We do this on camera. I proudly suck his cock and make him come on my lace-covered face at least twice a week.
But he shocks me.
Tonight, he slowly tugs at my disguise. “Can we let them see how beautiful your face looks while you’re sucking my cock?”
Holding his naked, hulking thighs, I hesitate. Not sure.
“You’re safe with me, with us,” he promises. “No one else will see your face. We’ll respect you like a queen, I swear.”
“We vow,” the man in the golden mask bellows, echoing Loch.
“This isyournight,” the woman in the bunny mask urges. “You are hisqueen. Be proud and show us.”
Her French accent makes me bold. I nod, and Loch gently tugs off my lace hood, my tawny hair tumbling free.
