The night itself would start normal enough, perhaps with a dinner out, in a nice but not overdone type of restaurant. I would know perhaps that more was planned for the evening, if nothing else, an end to the torment that you had wrought upon me throughout dinner. I would playfully announce the want to kill or at least torture whomever had devised the wireless rabbit that was buried within the slick walls of my pussy, turned on at some of the more inopportune moments of the meal -- like when the waiter approached the table to take our orders; I was quietly grateful though for your usual style of ordering everything, even though I knew speech at that point would have left the poor man wondering for awhile.
Throughout the entire meal you randomly turned the toy on, letting me reach toward the brink of pleasure, only to torment me further, by suddenly turning it off. You knew my reactions too well, and knew even without the beg upon my lips that I needed to release. I wouldn't be quite sure how I would make it through actually eating the meal, sipping the drinks afterward, without once crying out, without a single audible moan -- well, at least none that were heard by those people around our booth.
You of course, were quite pleased with the frenzied state you had put me in -- knowing that it would leave me begging you to let me do anything, anything to just be allowed to orgasm for you. I almost groaned as you didn't turn down your street -- knowing now the torture would not be complete even that easily. I looked to you a bit questioningly as we stopped at a pub, one that I didn't remember visiting with you before. But, eager to move forward -- move closer toward that final pleasure, I was almost out the door before you could open it for me. Perhaps as a kind respite, you had not turned on the toy during the drive, but, just as your arm went around me, you turned it on once more, my knees almost buckling as we approached the door.
The pub seemed only about half full as we entered. The barkeep greeted you as an old friend. This gave me a small pause, because if you were so known here -- the torturing toy would not be quiet much, I thought. A round of drinks were brought over, small amounts of conversation passed back and forth from our booth to the other patrons. I didn't pay much attention to some of the looks that I was getting -- overall, I just put it to rest with the thought that it was due to the very small skirt and barely buttoned top -- both of which hugged my curves quite well. It would not have been the first time for such looks -- and I doubted it would be the last.
About an hour had passed, and now into the second of the brews chosen for me, I asked to be excused to the restroom. Almost as an afterthought, you commanded me to remove the small toy and clean it well, before placing it into my small purse. A look of surprise came over my face, but, pleasant -- thinking that perhaps this meant we would be on our way home shortly. As I returned from the bathroom, I was almost surprised not to see you waiting with the check paid... instead you were in a deep conversation with the bartender.
