Compromise Ch. 02

Brenda flushed deeper and looked around self-consciously. "It's not that obvious, is it?"

My tone was light and teasing as I replied, "You're right, next time I'll make you dress a little sluttier."

"That's not what I meant," she said quickly, but I could see a little smile flit across her lips.

"See those two guys at the bar? Over there on your right. They've been looking at you since we walked in."

Even as she glanced at them, one of the men was staring at her chest. Caught in the act, he quickly turned back to the TV at the bar.

"What, do you like that?" she asked me.

"I do," I confided, moving my hand to her knee. "And do you know why?" As Brenda shook her head, I let my hand drift northward until it touched the hem of her dress, and I watched her breathing shift slightly at the knowledge of it. "Other men can want you, but they can't have you." My fingers slid just an inch under her dress along her inner thigh. Her lips parted. "Because you're mine, Brenda."

"IPA?"

Brenda jolted backwards at the waiter's voice, pulling her leg away from me abruptly, a dead giveaway if I'd ever seen one. I couldn't help but smile at her reaction that time, and I thought I saw a little smirk on our waiter's face, too.

"And a Blue Moon," he said, setting down Brenda's beer. "Are you guys ready to order, or do you need some more time?"

Luckily, both of us knew this menu backwards and forwards, so we didn't have any trouble ordering. From what we ordered-a soup for her, salad for me-it was evident that neither of us were too hungry.

"Cheers," I said, lifting my glass.

"Cheers," Brenda muttered, and took several gulps of beer.

I made conversation about "normal" things for a few minutes, letting the beer settle into her and giving her a chance to calm down a bit. She was doing great, but seemed a little skittish about the new setting, which was only to be expected.

I didn't wait too long before my next move, though. I wanted momentum to stay on my side.

"Okay, Brenda," I said gently. "Go to the bathroom and bring your purse. There's a little blue bag inside. I want you to put on what's in the blue bag." My voice grew a little stricter. "Don't take too long in there either-you don't want to make things any worse for yourself."

She pressed her lips together, assessing my face, trying to guess what she was getting herself into now. I kept my expression blank and waited.

"Okay," she said finally, and stood.

While she was sitting the dress had ridden up a couple extra inches, so the guys at the bar and I got a great glance of those creamy thighs before she pulled it back down. She took her purse and went.

It felt like ages. I forced myself to stare at the TV. I picked up my beer and looked at it, surprised, when it was empty.

"Another?" the waiter said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Yes, please," I said.

And then Brenda reappeared in the back, her cheeks all pink yet again, that blush apparent even from several tables away.

As she drew closer I silently thanked God that everything had worked out as I'd hoped. That lacy bra I'd chosen was unlined, and the fabric of the dress was just the right weight, so that now you could see the outline of her nipples and, if you looked closely, maybe a little something else? Meanwhile, there was discomfort and self-awareness written all over Brenda's face as she carefully, slowly picked her way back towards me. Her lips were parted slightly and she seemed to be breathing heavily, exaggerating the rise and fall of those hard nipples. I watched her every movement as she slid into her seat.

She just sat there, quiet, her tongue running over her lips, her eyes heated on mine.

I finally broke our gaze only to glance at the waiter, who was appearing with my beer. If I wasn't mistaken, his hand paused and his eyes lingered on my wife for a second before he nodded at us and left again.

I could hardly blame him. Even if he didn't know the full extent of what was going on, it was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes off Brenda.

"Tell me what happened in there. With details."

Brenda bit her lip and my gaze fell to that full mouth of hers. "I, uh, went to the bathroom. I opened up the bag-"

"How did you feel on the way to the bathroom?" I prompted her. "Details, remember." We'd gone over this before; I'd tortured her with ice and asked her to describe it the entire time.

Brenda nodded. "Sorry, sir ... On the way there I felt nervous. And self-conscious. After you pointed out how those men have been looking at me ..."

She looked over at them as she said it. Bad timing on her part, considering she was already feeling self-conscious-one of them was staring again, obviously entranced by the sight of those hard nipples visible through her dress. He coughed and looked away, and Brenda grabbed her beer in consternation. She took another big gulp.

I should add that Brenda is a great dresser, but she's modest. I've heard her complain in Victoria's Secret plenty of times about finding bras that aren't huge push-ups but will still hide her nipples, so this was obviously not her style. Which was making this moment all the more enjoyable for me. So I gave her the time she needed to compose herself.

"So, yeah, I felt self-conscious, and like this dress is way too tight and short," she said, the slightest hint of accusation in her voice. "Anyway, so when I got inside the bathroom, I opened the blue bag like you asked, and inside I saw ..." Her voice lowered a couple more decibels, although nobody would have been able to hear her inside the noisy bar anyway. "I saw the clamps."

"You mean the nipple clamps," I said at a normal volume, and Brenda winced.

"Yes, sir, I saw the nipple clamps," she rushed on, her voice still quiet, but clearly hoping to cut off anything explicit I might say. "I couldn't believe it, I was sure they'd completely show through everything I was wearing. I, ah, thought about ... I mean, it took me a few seconds just to get up the courage to ..."

She gulped. I rested my hand on her inner knee again, tugging so that her legs parted slightly. She turned more towards me so that she could close them again. I grinned and let my fingers trail up her inner thigh once more.

"Go on."

"So, I figured I had to do it, so I started touching my nipples-"

"Did you take your bra off?"

"Ah, no. I, um, the dress is pretty stretchy, so I just, um. I guess I pulled my dress and bra down so my nipples were exposed." She squirmed, both at what she was admitting to and at the feel of my fingers slowly but surely inching farther up her leg and into inappropriate territory.

"Got it. So your tits were poking up out of your dress." A delightful picture if there ever was one.

"I guess so," she demurred. Her cheeks were a constant shade of pretty pink now. She took a deep breath, followed quickly by another drink of her beer.

"Then I started pinching my nipples-"

"Don't move away from me this time," I ordered her, half a second before the waiter showed up with our dinner.

Brenda froze. My hand was more than halfway up her inner thigh and definitely under the hemline of her dress, and the waiter was just a foot away. But nothing we were doing looked overly inappropriate, and besides, we were close to the wall and none of our antics were too obvious unless you looked closely. And although the guys at the bar and our waiter were definitely keeping tabs on us, they hardly seemed like they'd raise a stink about anything we did.

"Salad," the waiter said, depositing my plate in front of me. "And the baked potato soup. Can I get you anything else?"

"I think we're all set," I said.

Neither of us moved to touch our plates after he'd left. My fingers were making little circles on Brenda's inner thigh now. I could feel the tension in her leg and every now and then she twitched a little as if to move closer to me.

I raised my eyebrows at her, and gamely, she went on. "So I was pinching my nipples," she said, with less hesitation now as her inhibitions were swept aside by her arousal. "It felt really good. I was touching both of them at the same time, pulling and maybe twisting just a little bit."

"I know how you like that."

"Yes, I do." Her voice was almost a whisper. "And then I put the first clamp on ... the left one ..." She was getting better with the details now. "It was shocking more than anything, although it hurt some too. But I gave it a few seconds, kept pinching the other one, and it started to feel good. So I pinched my right nipple really hard, and pulled on it some, and then I put the clamp on that one too ... That hurt too, but just for a couple seconds, and then the sensation dulled. And it just felt ... um ..." She squirmed a little and I glanced down at those nipples, so tempting, poking out from under the fabric. "It felt really good," she said quietly, lustfully. "It made me want to touch myself. And when I pulled my bra and the dress back up, it pressed the clamps even closer to me and I almost moaned out loud in the bathroom."

Hm, she was getting a lot better at the details.

I'd given her a pair of tweezer nipple clamps that I'd had her try on before. They shouldn't be too tight, so she could have them on for a little while in case I got carried away. And as I'd guessed, they looked great under a dress. I smiled at her and lifted my hand from her thigh, pleased at the slight pout on her face when I let her go. "Good girl. Did you touch yourself?"

She shook her head no.

"Do you think you're wet?"

This time she slowly nodded yes.

"I guess we'll find out soon. Meanwhile, I think your soup might be getting cold."

"I'm not that hungry," Brenda said, a glint of mischief in her eye.

I smiled at her, a genuine one. "I have a feeling both of us will need our strength," I said honestly.

I forced myself to come up with some mundane subjects to talk about while we finished our light dinners. But it was pretty obvious neither of us were very into the conversation. When her bowl was finally empty, I put my hand on her inner thigh again, too impatient to start at her knee this time. I was almost ready to take her home, but there was one more part of this particular fantasy that I really wanted.

"I want you to go back to the bathroom," I told her, enjoying how her legs parted this time, just slightly, automatically, at my touch. "Take off the nipple clamps. And your panties." Her eyes widened, but I went on. I knew my voice was showing my impatience now, but I couldn't help it anymore. "On your way back, when you reach the entrance to the room, I want you to drop your purse and bend down to pick it up, legs apart, so that you're showing off your ass to all of us."

She swallowed and true distress entered her eyes. It took her a couple of seconds to find her words, but when she did, they were disappointing. "Sir, please, I can't do that."

I could tell from her tone and the look on her face that this wasn't some idle protest, but that this was truly a limit for her. "Which part?" I asked calmly.

"The, ah, part where I bend over," she said, looking down.

Internally I breathed a small sigh of relief, although I tried to keep my face stern. Having her pussy bare under that dress had been my main goal, and I could accept it if she wouldn't bend over and show off for the restaurant patrons.

Not that I was planning to let her get off that easily. "Why not?"

She pressed her lips together, drawing my attention to them, and then admitted in a very small voice, "I'm worried people will see my ... pussy. Sir."

It was a valid point. The entrance to the room was very close to the two guys at the bar who had been ogling her all night, and I'm sure they would have been paying very, very close attention if she pulled a stunt like that. Considering I'd told her to keep her legs apart, there was a good chance her pussy would be flashing to the world as well. Of course, that had been a large part of the whole exercise.

I kept the stern look on my face and decided to use this to my advantage. "If you don't do that part, you know you will have to be punished."

My beautiful wife worried her lip with her teeth for a moment, and I saw how truly uncomfortable she was. "I know, sir," she said quietly, accepting her fate.

"Then you can skip it," I told her. "But go and take off those nipple clamps and your panties for me, like a good girl."

She looked back up at me with relief in her eyes. "Yes, sir."

Holy shit. Had I just called her a good girl in public, and she had responded by calling me sir? Outside of the house? In a restaurant? Had I mentioned how amazing this was, and how out of character for my headstrong wife?

I watched her leave, hoping my dick, half-hard, would return to normal by the time I had to stand up. The waiter was just returning my credit card when Brenda reappeared in the hall from the bathroom, in the very spot I asked her to bend over for everyone to see. I had to grin as the waiter seemed to forget himself for a second, just standing there, watching Brenda's flushed cheeks, those rock-hard nipples still evident even though she'd taken off the clamps, her self-conscious tugging down of the dress which only served to highlight just how short it was.

"Hope you guys have a great evening," the waiter said, a touch of wistfulness in his voice. And he didn't even know that her pussy was now deliciously exposed under that dress.

"Oh, I'm sure we will," I muttered.

The waiter was gone by the time Brenda sat down, which meant it was clear for me to tell her, "Give me the panties."

Brenda's mouth dropped open for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. "What?"

"Give me your panties," I repeated slowly, holding out my hand.

She nearly sputtered, but I just sat expectantly, waiting. She was already in trouble for multiple reasons, and I'm sure she remembered it.

Finally, she reached slowly into her purse and pulled something out, trying to keep it fully concealed in her hand as she reached across the table and handed it to me.

I took the scrap of lace from her and left my hand open for a couple of seconds, pretending to examine it. I didn't really want anyone to see her panties, but I wanted her to know that someone could see it.

I stuck the panties in my pocket, enjoying the shocked look on her face. "You know, these are soaked," I said in a conversational tone, although inside I was exulting in the knowledge of how turned on she had gotten over the course of the evening.

"Yes, sir," she said meekly.

"Spread your legs a little."

Her breath quickened again, but I felt her shift underneath the table. I kept my eyes on her as I once more placed my hand on her inner thigh, no longer having the strength to take my time. My fingers skimmed up quickly, racing under her dress until they just brushed her pussy lips. When I pulled my hand back, her eyes were fiery with lust and my fingertips were wet.

I put those fingertips to her mouth and obediently she sucked them in, flicking her tongue across them automatically and holding my gaze as she tasted herself.

So much for letting my dick soften before I stood up.

"Good girl," I choked out, hoping my voice sounded in the vicinity of normal.

The walk home was quick, but not quick enough. The whole time I couldn't keep my mind off her pussy, dripping wet with her arousal, pussy lips rubbing together in the open air as she kept pace with me. I silently cursed myself for not getting us home faster right up until the key slipped in and the lock opened. As soon as the door was closed behind us, I had my hand on the crook of her elbow, pulling her back to the couch and over my lap without ceremony, ignoring her gasp as I yanked her dress up to bare her ass. Honestly, while I loved punishing her, I was getting a little desperate to come inside of her. But I knew that first I had to fulfill the promise (or to her, the threat) to continue her punishment that I'd made at the beginning of the night.

"This is for being late earlier," I said briefly, and unceremoniously, I began smacking her ass.

I took out some of my frustration on her, which wasn't very helpful as it only made those frustrations grow when her whimpers and struggles sent pulses straight to my cock. God, she'd walked home without panties, on my orders, I thought to myself, spreading stinging slaps all over her naked butt. Her legs parted and closed again, her hips raised to meet my hand, signs I had grown to recognize as silent pleas for more, or for my touch.

Without warning, I plunged a finger inside her, not surprised when she was wet enough for it to slide in fully and easily. My cock twitched against her belly at the full-bodied moan that escaped her mouth.

"You're so fucking wet," I said, pulling my finger out slowly before burying it inside her once more.

"Oh, God, yes, sir," she groaned, her hips pushing back against my finger, even when I kept fucking her pussy with it while I resumed spanking her with my other hand. "Yes, sir, please, more, please ..."

I thought my dick had surely burst out of my pants by now.

I didn't let her come over my lap. Despite the finger-fucking and all the foreplay of the night and even the spanks that still rained down on her ass, I knew she'd still need a little bit more, and I wasn't ready to give it to her. So soon I withdrew my finger and just concentrated on the spanking, enjoying the sting in my own palm as I reddened her ass to the shade that I wanted.

When I stopped, she was still incoherently begging me. I couldn't figure out exactly what she was begging for, and I doubted she knew herself, but that didn't stop me from liking it.

I rolled her out of my lap. "On your knees," I said, already standing and tugging open my pants. By the time she assumed the position, my dick was out, and I lost no time in brushing it against her lips. "Open," I said, and saw her swallow once before obeying.

I wrapped my hand in her hair, tugging gently so that she looked up at me. God, the picture she made. Her lips were parted, my cock just barely resting on them, her eyes cloudy with lust and desperation.

"Spread your knees and pull your tits out of your dress."

She did so immediately, parting her knees so that her pussy was open to the air, forcing the hemline on that ridiculously short dress up even further. She reached in to the top of her dress to pull out her tits, up and out of her bra so that they were in the position she'd described when she put the nipple clamps on at the restaurant. Fuck! I'd fully intended to put clamps back on her, but there was no way I could stop myself now.

"This is punishment for not showing off your ass and pussy at the bar, the way I asked you to," I told her. "Do you understand?"

She tried to nod her head, but I tightened my grip on her hair so that she couldn't move her head. And to give her the idea of exactly what was coming. Her eyes widened and she whispered, "Yes, sir, I understand."

I relaxed my grip on her hair just a modicum. "Hands behind your back, and they stay there," I ordered her, and pushed my cock into her mouth.

God, the feeling as her warm, wet mouth enveloped me. Her fucking tongue, flicking tentatively on the underside of my cock as it pushed deeper inside. I looked down and wished I'd just told her to take off the fucking dress so that I could see her well-spanked ass, which was instead just barely, tantalizingly covered with the tight fabric. Her hands were obediently clasped behind her back, limiting her active participation and leaving the power to me. I left my dick halfway in her mouth for a while, breathing deeply as she worked her tongue on me, performing magic.