Chapter 9 #2
She smiles and asks quietly, “Is it your intention to make me come at the table, Sir?”
“Maybe so. Maybe not. You’ll have to find out, won’t you?”
She smiles, and it hits me like a warm blow to the chest. This woman is so fucking beautiful, and she’s all mine tonight.
“Shall I look at the menu, or do you want to order for me, Master Gilby?”
“Nah, I’ll do the ordering.”
“You always do, Sir.”
I chuckle, just fucking delighted with her. I pull my hand from under her dress and peruse the menu.
The waiter approaches, and I order. “We’ll start with the Czar Nicoulai caviar and squash blossom. For the main course, I’ll take the Wagyu beef, and the lady will have the Sonoma duck.”
“Very good, Sir,” the waiter says. “I’ll be back with the dessert menu when you’re done with your meal, if that suits you?”
“Yes, fine, fine. Thank you.”
Our drinks arrive, and I take a sip of the gin, watching as she gracefully unfolds her napkin and lays it in her lap before she delicately sips her sparkling water. I’ve forgotten how flawless her table manners are, since she usually eats from a bowl on the floor at the House.
“You look incredible,” I tell her.
She smiles a bit shyly. “I… Thank you. I’m not used to compliments.”
“You get called a good Girl all the time. Everyone who comes to the House praises your beauty and your service.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true. But this is different. This is…just us, a couple on holiday,” she says with the beginnings of a smile.
She’s nervous. I don’t mind it. I love to make a slave nervous, and even though we’re here, out in a public place together for the first time since she entered into her Training House contract, playing at being regular people, she is still, and always will be, a slave.
I get a nice little dopamine hit from her nerves.
“Are you so uncomfortable with it? Not that the idea of you being uncomfortable displeases me. I'm still a wicked fucking sadist at heart.”
“It is uncomfortable, but in a way that feels sort of like a challenge I must overcome.”
“Must?”
“Yes, must. And I want to. To please you. But also, I am trying to sink into this little fantasy we’re playing at.”
A sharp twist in my gut at that. We are playing at this, aren’t we?
For now. I have a small moment to reflect back to the brief phone discussion with Master Damon.
With Damon. But I don’t want to waste any time trying to dissect the possibilities, to think about how I might feel at the end of it. No, I want to focus on this. On her.
I cover her hand with mine while I keep stroking her swollen clit with the fingertips of my other hand, concealed by the tablecloth.
“I’m happy with that need to please. It’s such a deep part of you.
It’s part of what makes you such a spectacular slave.
But Giselle, I need to please you, too.” I lean closer, keeping my voice low.
“Take a sip of your water. Yeah, that’s good.
I’m going to play with your pussy until you can’t take it anymore.
I want you to stay quiet. I’ll know how you’re feeling from the way your pupils dilate, from the rhythm of your breath. ”
I give her clit a hard tug, and she lets out a tiny, gasping breath. I tug harder, then roll it between my fingers, watching as her breath quickens.
“I don’t even know m’self if I’ll let you come, right here at the table. If I’ll make you come in the middle of this very nice restaurant. It might be once. It might be over and over. We’ll see, won’t we, my little beauty?”
She bites her lip, and her hips shift under the tablecloth as she widens her thighs so I can press my fingers inside her. Her cunt is so damn wet, and it makes my dick hard. I pull my fingers out, lift them to my mouth and quickly suck her juices off them.
She’s watching my face very carefully, and no one would know watching us that we’re doing anything but having an intimate conversation. But I know. And fuck, yeah, the girl is going to come.
I reach back down and plunge my fingers inside her, and she bears down as I find her g-spot.
I’m not working it hard, though. Even the thick suede of her dress wouldn’t be able to hide if I make her squirt.
Instead, I keep a slow fucking motion going while I press on her clit with my thumb.
My gaze is on her face, and I can’t look away as her neck and chest go pink, as her breathing kicks up in tempo, her eyes glittering in the low lighting.
She murmurs, “May I, Sir?”
“Not yet,” I command her, even though I want nothing more than to watch her face as she comes.
I keep teasing, pulling my fingers out when she gets too close. I’m fucking enjoying edging her, especially right here I the middle of one of San Francisco’s finest restaurants. I go back at her clit, pinching it hard, and she bites down on that plush lip once more.
“Yeah, Giselle. Do you need to come? Tell me.”
“I… Yes, please. Please let me come, Sir.”
“Not yet,” I repeat, pressing my fingers back into her wet little hole.
“Mmm…”
I fuck her gently, and when her core squeezes my fingers, I draw them out, back to my mouth, and suck off her juices while she squirms the tiniest bit.
The busboy stops at our table, a large water pitcher in his hand. “How are we doing here?” he asks. “Do you need anything?”
“We’re good, thanks. Perfect, really.”
“Very good. Enjoy.”
“We’re having a very enjoyable evening. Thank you.”
He walks away and I send her an evil wink before I lower my hand and go back to it, working her hard clit as my dick throbs with need. But I’ll fuck her later, over and over. For now, it’s her turn.
I move closer and whisper into her ear, “You’ve been my very good girl. You’ve earned a nice orgasm. But you must be quiet about it, yeah?”
“Yes, yes. Of course, Sir,” she says breathlessly.
Her sweet cunt squeezes around my fingers, and I angle them to hit her g-spot just enough as I press onto her clit with my thumb and rub in tight circles.
Her eyes go wide, and I feel a small trembling in her body.
Then she closes her eyes, and she’s panting as she comes into my hand, her pussy clenching, clenching, and from one corner of my eye I see her fingers digging into the tablecloth.
“Yeah, come for me,” I encourage her, working her and working her until I feel the pressure build inside her. I rub at her clit, her g-spot, and command her, “Again.”
It’s a mere few seconds before she’s coming again, her face going a bright pink, and I fucking love knowing what’s happening here in our dark corner while the rest of the patrons calmly eat their dinner.
The waiter approaches with our appetizer, sets it on the table, and asks if we need anything.
“Nah, we’re good, thanks.”
He smiles, nods, and walks away while my girl is very quietly and a bit desperately trying to catch her breath.
“Clean my fingers for me,” I tell her, pressing my fingertips between her lips, and she quickly takes them into her warm mouth and sucks before I slip them out.
Her cheeks are still flushed and she’s fucking glowing. God, I love to see her like this.
I just fucking love her.
My dark, cold heart goes warm, feeling like it’s fucking swelling inside my chest. I swallow it down. Now is not the time. It may never be the right time. I’ll know more after meeting with Damon and Christopher tomorrow. Until then, I remind m’self to just stay in the moment.
And the moment is bloody lovely.
The caviar and squash blossoms are too damn good not to be savored, and we do.
“Oh, this is so delicious,” Giselle says, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin.
“Hell, yeah, it is.”
“It’s like… It feels like pure luxury in my mouth. Especially after the all-too-clean slave diet I’ve been on these six years.”
“I’ve thought about that—eating just chicken and fish and steamed vegetables and the occasional potato. I’d go fucking mad.”
“You get used to it. And I remind myself that eating well is part of my service, and helps to keep my body in peak performance so that I can serve. And it makes those moments when someone puts a bit of chocolate into my mouth that much more delicious. It’s as if my taste buds have become so much more sensitive now, and I can appreciate every flavor more. ”
“I would put a piece of fine chocolate in your mouth every day,” I tell her, imagining what that would be like. “Something from the Netherlands. Best chocolate I’ve ever tasted, although Master Damon prefers Swiss chocolate.”
“Chocolate form the Netherlands was Madame Alice’s favorite.”
“It was, indeed. That’s how I found out about it.” I savor another bite, then ask her, “You miss her still, yeah?”
“Of course I do. She was like the mother we never had, in some ways. Except we also got to serve her, to be beaten by her. She was the one who really taught us how to be good slaves. How to make sex into an art form. She was so beautiful, even well into her fifties. Her hands were the softest hands that have ever touched me, and her cheeks were so smooth, like baby skin…” She trails off, a distance in her gaze.
I cover her hand with mine. “I miss her, too. She was a wonderful and very wise woman. And as wealthy as she was, as powerful in the realm of kink, she was so warm.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. We loved her very much, Sandrine and I. If you hadn’t been there when she died, I have no idea what we would have done, what would have become of us.”
“Eh, you two were well known in these circles when Madame Alice passed. You would have found a home with some good Master or Mistress, I’m sure.”
“Perhaps. But we needed a familiar face, familiar hands. We needed you.”
Her gaze is locked on mine, and I feel so strongly that she’s trying to relate some message to me. Well, I’d have to be stupider than I am not to know she is, in fact, wanting to tell me something. That she wants to be with me. She’s made it very clear. But again, that’s something for another day.