Keep Calm

When I enter the cafe, I’m out of breath. 6 pm was ordered. I hurried, followed your directions even to the car park and had actually no problem exactly the mentioned parking space to find. Now I am still too late.

My gaze wanders nervously through the room and captures the rustic atmosphere with small round tables, tablecloths, half-leather benches, lots of wood, lots of kitsch, lots of coffee. Then our eyes meet, your wandering from my eyes downwards, appreciates me. Under my cloak you can guess the short black robe, you see my black boots, my stockings, which you know will end just under the skirt. Then your eyes wander briefly towards the clock, mine follows.

I register ten minutes late.

But you smile and point to the wardrobe. Even if my outfit is fit for society, it does not fit into this environment and I would rather hide in my coat. I take my time to take off my cloak, take care to show me from all sides, to put my bag down again, and to lift it so that the edge of the stockings is at least near the edge when bending down.

Then I go to you at the table. You do not urge me to sit down at once, look at me as it seems satisfied.

Your look sticks hot on my breasts and a small hand movement on your part makes me realize that I should open a button. I do this unobtrusively and notice how my nipples are growing and visible through the slightly transparent, narrow-cut blouse.

I can sit down.

“You’re too late! But that does not matter, I had ten minutes to think about how you can excuse me, “you say quite calmly and smiling.

I prefer not to say anything, I know that the how and why does not matter, only the result.

You calm me with a kiss and an amusing conversation while you drink your coffee.

“It’s not worth it to order something for you right now,” you mean, and put a small bag in my handbag. “Go to the toilet and see what I’ve brought you with, I’ll be happy to see you “I want to see your hard nipples and red lips!”

I get up and take my modest approach, while I discover the toilet at the opposite aisle.

There is a collar in your bag.

Leather, unobtrusively, as far as that goes, but very meaningful pregnant and me rises Red face in the face with the presentation me in the public as your property to present.

I loose myself from my rigidity.

I do not want a choice, you decide.

So I pull the collar, the panties, the stockings down, and push my nipples out of the black lace of the bra, so they can push even better through the blouse. I pull the kajal clearly with a hand mirror. Then I go from the toilet in the corridor to a mirror to make my lips in peace.

I know you can watch me there. That’s why I push the ass out further than necessary, which raises the skirt and releases the hem of the stockings. Another guest pushes through the bottleneck that I am causing in the passage and I push myself with an excuse even further back. It is only a moment when he reflexively grabs my hips and strips my butt with his cock. But you have seen it and enjoy the performance.

I can feel the tape around my neck. Not being my own master makes it easier for me to walk slowly through the room and to endure the appraising, curious looks. Still, the redness is rising in my face again. My slip I have in the hand. An attentive observer could recognize it. I give the trophy to your hand as I stand before the table. The smell of my lust rises to your nose.

“Sit down, but not on the skirt and spread your legs!”

I feel slightly queasy until I realize that I am probably protected behind the tablecloth and the high backrests before glances. So I push for others not recognizable in a movement with the down the skirt so far up, that my ass on cold leather lands. You grab one hand under the neckband with my hand and pull my ear to your mouth while the other hand squeezes my knees.

“You belong to me and do what I ask of you,” you whisper, and I overflow a goose bumps, I agree with you.

“It’s time for your excuse,” you say, and I’m already saying something, but you’re shaking your head, so I’m not going to go to the wardrobe, take my coat I’m not supposed to do it, and then I’ll take the road to the car and go before you.

My thoughts are precisely the spot I leave on the leather, while I try to make sense when I get up again.

I take my coat, go out of the cafe through the shopping center in the direction of the car park and try to weigh my ass as lasciviously as possible for you.

I fall in the daily bustle, I look at myself, I am hot with shame.

I opened the heavy door to the car park after a felt eternity. Here is no one but us. It is bad sound and the iron doors betray anyone who goes in or out.

The staircase is equipped with gigantic mirrors on each landing. I shall stand before one, my face to the mirror. You step behind me and grab me by the shoulders.

“Look at you. Are you running around the bright day? What do you think of you? “You whisper and take my hand short on your stiff tail.

“Look what you have done! I would like to fuck you here on the spot in the ass. But you owe me something else. “

Then you get a leather line from the bag and attach it at the back of the collar of the collar. You turn me to the railing and push me so far forward that I must lean on it. You push my skirt over the butt, the stockings down to just above the knees.

Then you almost irritate me with a soft tickling of the leash on the inside of my thighs, my ass, my wet column. I groaning, trying to move me to the fleeting touch, but you reopen me with a raw pull on the collar.

“Go on, go to the car!” You let me go in linen and determine my pace.

I’m in a quiet panic and I hope that I do not have to show myself in this way to a car park visitor. But your choice was deliberate. The lower deck is not animated, the lighting is dim and the car stands next to a concrete pillar almost in a corner. I am relieved when we get there unmolested, and we are already about to break the keys.

But you command me behind the piers between the parked vehicles. I should bend forward, place my hands on the bonnet of my car and stretch your ass, the legs as wide apart as possible.

You look at me for a long time in this attitude, squeeze my dripping wet labia, which open immediately.

You stand beside me, grab the collar with one hand, push me down, and release the lead with the other hand.

“Ten minutes too late …. I do not want to hear a mound from you!” Then you will pop the line on my hanged, bare meat.

Once. The blow ends in the middle of the left half of the ass.

Twice. A little lower.

3 times. The fold between throat and thigh.

Four times. You’re working downstairs.

The fifth stroke ends in the middle of the thigh.

Then the other side is off.

I press with difficulty every sound, every whine, take every stroke without complaint, do not move me, even after the tenth stroke, I breathe very hard, wait and enjoy the grief, the silence.

You are reviewing the markings you have given me. Stroke over the reddened swellings. Strung over my cunt, my clit. I have a strong desire to keep quiet, but I force myself because I know how horny it makes you look at me like that.

With a handle to the neckband you turn me around, push up the blouse, push it over the shoulders and push me into the crouch.

“Spread your legs! I want to see you! “

I like to be with you.

You look at me greedily, push two fingers into my neck, kick between my open legs and push my knees even further apart.

“Get your cock out and jerk him!”

I leave me a lot of time to open my pants. Only when your tail is completely free … or better, I start with very light, fast jerk movements. In addition I lick your eggs and suck it. I am also jerking on myself.

You are now very hard, very horny and at this point I ask you if I may come.

You say, “Yeah, come … and open your mouth, show me your tongue!” You push my head against the cold plate, hold on to my hair and slowly push my cock into my mouth, slowly, Very deep, to the point at which you fuck me right and leave me the air away.

Right there it comes to me and you push your cock a few times in my throat back and forth, then you pull him out and jerks until you pour into hot blows into my wide open mouth … in my throat, to the Lips and on the tits. Then you rub the twitching glans on my tongue.

The juice you have spread on my face, you push me in the mouth, the rest you smear on the tits. You pull me up, push the parking ticket into my hand and say “Keep it all beautiful!” With a gossip on the butt, I pull off to the parking ticket machine, try to straighten me while covering your regrets piece by piece your markings on mine Skin and somewhere starts again a slight tingling …