He sat at the table in the mildly crowded restaurant and waited. It wasn't as high class as he had taken to her in the past, but it also wasn't the dive bars she preferred. Though, he thought with a grin, those did seem to have the better burgers.
Taking a sip of his ice water, he allowed his mind to wonder. The slick condensation on the glass reminded him of the last time they had been together, and he rubbed his thumb against the coolness. Her wetness certainly hadn't been cold, and as the memories played in his mind, he casually adjusted himself under the table.
Checking the time on his watch, he chuckled to himself. The watch had been a gift from her, the style a modern steampunk that allowed him to see the gears turn as the seconds ticked by. What he knew and she never admitted, was that it was also a passive aggressive encouragement for him to be on time. She hated missing deadlines and he had taken advantage of that pet peeve on occasion. She left more marks when she was angry.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn't answer it. She had been instructed to text him when she arrived at the restaurant and to then leave her phone in the car. They both knew she wouldn't disobey.
Less than three minutes later, the tap of high heels on a hardwood floor accompanied by the squeak of the hostess' tennis shoes reached his ears. The low murmur of conversation that had been in the air ceased as well and he knew without looking that she was wearing the dress he had had delivered to her. The dress that she never would have bought for herself, though he had seen her gaze at wistfully in the store. And why wouldn't she? The slinky fabric had been arranged to enhance the curves she would glare at and pinch with annoyance in the mirror, while the rich burgundy color was sure to bring out her caramel skin that was either too dark or too light in her mind, depending on the mood. Of course, he saw nothing wrong with neither her curves nor the shade of her skin, both being things he enjoyed admiring as he watched her pussy slide down the length of his cock, which was currently reminding him that it been far too long since he had been inside her.
When she reached the table, he didn't look up, and though her chair was pulled out for her, she didn't sit. Softly, she thanked the hostess who was undoubtedly confused, and it wasn't until the squeaks were far away from the table that he looked up. When he did, his cock throbbed painfully in his slacks at the sight before him.
She looked stunning. Biased opinion aside, as she was his and therefore always beautiful in his eyes, tonight she took his breath away. As he had suspected, the dress fit her like a glove, and the four inch black heels on her feet showed off her bare legs. She had a penchant for thigh highs, and while he wouldn't have minded them, he was glad she wasn't wearing any.
Letting his gaze roam up her body, he noted that her thick hair was pulled back into two French braids, the ends tied with a silky ribbon. He smiled when he realized the ribbons were tied into bows. She had applied a small amount of liner to eyes that were usually hidden behind glasses, her lashes causing shadows to dance across her cheeks as she stared down at her feet. Full lips that looked incredible stretched around his cock were coated in a burgundy color that matched her dress. Knowing she disliked make-up and had put it on without his explicit request pleased him immensely.
"Darling."
Immediately, she looked up from her shoes and met his gaze. A flush crept over her cheeks and the swell of her breast as she watched him covertly stroke himself through his slacks, hidden from the rest of the patrons by the walled alcove he had requested the table behind.
"Sit."
Her eyes closed briefly at the command, and he watched with satisfaction as a shiver came over her as she did as told.
Before he could speak, the waiter was at their table, all but fawning over her as he asked for her drink order. She blinked at the sudden attention and looked across the table at him.
"Oh, I haven't had a chance to look at the selection," she said quietly, her hands frantically grasping at the menus that lay on the table.
"That's fine, I'll wait," the waiter said cheerfully, no doubt enjoying the view.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before replying. "Oh, umm, I don't think that's necessary, really, just um-"
"She'll have an ice water, and a glass of your best Moscato," he cut in, his voice firm. "I have our order ready as well."
Her hands stilled as he covered them with his, gently caressing her skin as he gave the order to the waiter.
When they were alone again, well as alone as they could be, he called her by the nickname that always made her smile.
"While a bit enthusiastic, I understand his hurry," he chuckled. "It took me ten minutes to get a
glass of water, and you barely had a chance to breathe before you were questioned. I imagine he just wanted to be by the most beautiful woman in the room."
"Not sure why he was over here, then," she murmured derisively.
His hands stilled and gripped hers tightly as her eyes widened as she realized her mistake.
She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it just as quickly at the look on his face.
"We've talked about this, have we not?" he asked quietly.
"Y-yes, Daddy," she whispered. "We have."
"And what did we discuss?"
"That everytime I devalue myself, I devalue you as well."
"Do you feel my opinion is not to be valued?"
She shook her head, her braids and breasts moving along with her. "No Daddy, I don't feel that way at all."
"Good. Three swats for your attitude."
"Yes, Daddy."
Several seconds passed before he raised a brow. "I'm waiting, Princess."
Her expression became adorably confused before it dawned on her. "Waiting...here?!"
"Yes, here. You felt it okay to insult yourself here, so you can punish yourself here as well." He raised his water to his lips, and only years of poker games kept him from revealing his amusement. She looked like a deer in the headlights; or more apt, a Princess caught in a predicament of her own making.
"But Daddy," she pleaded. "People could see."
"Little one. Three swats. Do it."
Her hesitation caused him to repeat himself, this time his voice holding a threatening tone.
"Now, Princess."
Recognizing that he meant business, she took a deep breath, and slid her hands to the hem of her dress. He leaned back in his chair and watched as she slowly raised it, revealing first her thighs that he loved to leave bite marks on, then the neatly trimmed thatch of curls that covered her pussy. Here she hesitated before he nodded his encouragement, and she continued, stopping when she reached her hips.
"Spread your legs," he demanded, palming his cock through his slacks once more. "What's my rule?"
"If you can't hear it, it doesn't count," she repeated, having done so many times before.
"Begin."
Glancing around, she slid her hand in between her legs and lightly smacked her vulva.
"That's not going to cut it and you know it," he chided.
Her nostrils flared in annoyance but she wisely kept quiet. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she positioned her hand again.
Smack! The sound reached his ears a half second before her gasp did.
"That's one," he said, watching as she absentmindedly rubbed herself.
Smack! The second hit was harder than the first, and she covered her mouth with her free hand to stifle the moan that accompanied it.
"That's two," he all but growled. "One more for Daddy, baby. Get that pussy nice and wet."
SMACK! The third was the loudest one yet, and while she recovered slightly, he glanced around to make sure no one had heard their game.
Satisfied no one had, he reached into the black gift bag sitting on the floor next to him and pulled out a small box.
"Is your pussy nice and wet now, little one?" he asked.
