Also slightly unusual was the fact I was wearing a skirt — again, stipulated by Sir — and that I could feel the smooth glass of a butt plug with every step I took. I could also feel the breeze sliding under my skirt because, as instructed, I wasn’t wearing underwear.
It was a big park, with a large play area with picnic tables, along with a series of trails winding off through trees and rough ground. We forewent the tables, which were crowded with families, and started walking down the trail. I tried to be calm, to walk along with Sir and enjoy the quiet and the scenery, to wait and be patient and not push for details on where we were going and what was going to happen when we got there, but it was hard.
“Stop fidgeting,” Sir said.
“I’m not fidgeting,” I shot back, wholly falsely.
Sir gave me that look, the eyebrow, and I relented, because we were in public and Sir’s idea of how far it was acceptable to go, enforcing obedience, outside the privacy of a bedroom and mine were vastly different.
He gave me smile that was part approval and part smugness — he knew exactly why I’d bit my tongue — and I reconsidered my smart comment.
“In here,” he said, saving me from myself and pointing to a ribbon of trail in the grass that led to a small clearing, shade given by some large trees at the rear.
I traipsed along after him, trying to avoid stepping on any prickly weeds with my open sandals, then waited while he unfolded a large picnic blanket and spread it on the ground for us to sit on. I went on my knees on the blanket, which was cushioned enough to be comfortable, and looked back over my shoulder. The trail was close behind me, maybe fifteen feet away. Far enough to be out of earshot if we kept our voices low, but not out of sight. Not by a long shot. I swallowed, apprehension mixing uneasily with hunger in my stomach.
I knew better than to ask what activities might be happening after we ate, because Sir wouldn’t tell me anyway, and it wasn’t like knowing would make it any better.
I turned back to Sir and saw he was smirking at me, knowing exactly what I was thinking once more.
“Do you want to serve us lunch?” he asked, settling back in a half-sprawl.
“Certainly, Sir.”
I had my own smirk, then. I’d packed a nice lunch for us, but I was also a brat and I’d not been able to stop myself grabbing two extra things from my fridge. Delving into my picnic bag, I pulled out a child’s Lunchable meal and a carton of chocolate milk and sat them in front of Sir.
Then I smiled at him with as much innocence as I could muster.
He looked at the Lunchable and chocolate milk. Then he looked at me.
I kept my face utterly guileless, though laughter threatened to burst loose any moment.
“Is that how you want to play this?” he asked.
No. Not really. This was a terrible idea, especially with walkers meandering by just a few feet away, but I was a proud brat as well as an idiot, so I just raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“You don’t like it, Sir?”
“On the contrary,” he said, reaching for the offering. “It’s been an age since I had a chocolate milk.”
He sat and ate it, ignoring proper picnic lunch that I laid out in between us, except to snag a strawberry or two.
Prank delivered, I struggled to eat, my appetite vanishing as I wondered how I’d be made to pay for my cheek. I nibbled on a ham and turkey roll, the Coke I’d brought sitting uncomfortably in my stomach. Even the mini cupcakes didn’t appeal, though I licked the icing off one because it seemed a terrible waste otherwise.
Finally, when Sir’s Lunchable was nothing but crumbs, and he’d slurped the dregs out of his chocolate milk, he leaned back and studied me.
“Get the toys out,” he said.
I did as I was told, pulling a bullet vibrator, a pair of nipple clamps, a crop and a small bottle of lube out of the picnic bag. I laid them on the blanket between us then sat back on my heels, waiting.
“And you’re wearing the plug?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Which one did you choose?”
“The glass one.” Because I’d no idea how long I’d be wearing it and it was the most comfortable.
“I like the glass one. Spread your legs.”
I blinked, a little thrown by the shift into Dom tone, and it took me a moment to obey. Sir tutted and reached for the crop, landing a sharp slap on my inner thigh near the knee, where my skirt wasn’t long enough to cover me.
I looked back, hoping no one was passing by.
“Look at me!” Sir’s voice was a whip, harsher than the crop smack had been. “No one can see what you’re doing. You look at me and only me. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Lift up your top.”
I was wearing a black tank top. I lifted it up until it rested above my breasts. From the back, hopefully it would just look like I was wearing a crop top.
“Take out your breasts.”
I hesitated, but when Sir lifted the crop to give me some encouragement, I dug into each cup and lifted my breast free, letting them jut out over the top, my nipples exposed to the cooling air.
My cheeks weren’t cool, they were flame red as I sat there, exposed but hidden. Anyone who came towards us from the trail would see what we were doing in an instant.
“Take the vibrator and turn it on,” Sir said.
I did as I was told.
“Lift your skirt higher, let me see your cunt.”
I took the hem of my skirt and drew it up my thighs, my heart pounding as I revealed myself fully to Sir.
“Play with yourself,” Sir said. He pulled out his smart phone and flicked it life. He showed it to me, a timer up on the screen. “Three minutes.”
He watched me, waiting for me to start before he began the timer on his phone.
The little buzzer was one of my favourite toys, but I was too distracted by the thought of being discovered, one shoulder hunched up and tense as I tried to shield myself. Sir’s eyes on me, too, were a distraction. Some things I was still shy about; playing with myself was one of them.
I tried to close my eyes, concentrate on my body, but Sir wasn’t having that.
“Eyes on me,” he barked, the order coming with a slap to each thigh from the crop.
The sting of pain jerked my eyes open, and also jerked my clit to life. An orgasm rushed towards me out of nowhere.
“Can I cum?” I asked hastily.
No orgasms without permission after all.
“No,” Sir said. Then he watched me squirm and wiggle my way through forty-five more seconds of trying to stay away from the orgasm I’d thought was never going to come near me. “Stop.”
I turned the toy off and tried to swallow, my mouth suddenly dry and my throat tight.
“Leave you tits out, but pull your top down. Turn around and go forwards on your hands.”
I did as I was told, turning to face the trail and going onto all fours. I was immensely thankful there was no one walking past — for now. I felt a tickle on my skin as Sir gently lifted my skirt to reveal my ass… and the plug buried there.
“Very nice,” he murmured. He circled it with his fingers then jiggled it in place. “Push it out.”