Monica at the restaurant

Monica looked at me. This was an important moment. We were in a restaurant on Circular Quay, and I’d just demonstrated the awesome power of the Dom’s Command Voice. At least I hoped I had. 

Monica moved her hand to the button of her blouse just below her breasts. “When I make a suggestion in hypnosis, people just do it if it seems like fun. You probably want me to say something like ‘Yes, Sir,’ before I do as you say.” 

I shrugged. “It’s up to you. Whether it’s hypnosis or Domming, it only works if you want to do what you’ve been told. I haven’t told you to say anything in particular.” 

She nodded, then undid that button. Then she shrugged her shoulders too, but deliberately so the shirt pulled open a little, revealing her solar plexus and the inner slopes of her breasts. She wore a white sports bra. She didn’t say, “Yes, Sir.” 

She smiled, as if she’d managed to obey me but still won. So I reached forward and touched that place where her rib cage joined, my fingertips against her firm, slightly sweaty skin. I ran a fingernail very lightly, up to the bottom of the bra. She goose-bumped. Her left nipple, though oddly not the right, was slightly more visible through the bra and her shirt.

I wanted to squeeze that not-erected right nipple, to teach it its business, but we were in a public place. I said, “Now you say, ‘Yes, Sir.'” 

Her eyes widened. It is, of course, a hard thing to say, especially the first time, when it concedes so much. But she was turned on. She would only do as she wanted, but I hoped that her wants had expanded. It occurred to me that we would get a taxi soon. 

I wanted to smile while I watched her consider what she wanted. It seemed that she wanted me, as I wanted her, but that having me would come at some cost to her dignity. So I raised my eyebrows, to show I was being kept waiting. She blew her breath out through pursed lips. She looked into my eyes and said, “Yes, Sir.”

 I said, as any Dom will when hearing that, “Good girl.” 

She smiled. “‘Good girl?’ Is that supposed to make me feel good? A little dopamine rush?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah. Weird. Sounds patronising as fuck. And yes, there’s that little rush. Interesting.” 

“You could build it into your act.”

Then she frowned. “But what happens if I’m not a good girl?” 

“Oh, I thought you knew. I smack your bottom. Hard. Repeatedly. It’s quite loud. It’s called, ‘Monica gets a spanking.'”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” She glanced around. No one was watching us in particular, but there were a lot of people around. “Here?” 

5 thoughts on “Monica at the restaurant

  1. Yes, it’s the start of a series.

    At the moment it’s based loosely on something that happed when I first got to Australia. And it’ll probably stay moderately close to events for another few episodes.

    Then I’ll either end the story, or take it off in new directions.

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