Obedient Slut's Public Humiliation

Brenda sits alone at a little cafe, tapping nervously on her table. She takes a sip of her coffee, hands trembling as she looks at her cell phone lying in front of her. She takes a minute to glance out the large windows of the cafe at the beautiful blue sky and passing people. It seems like everyone is busy with one thing or another. She takes another sip of coffee and then takes her mirror from her purse to check her makeup. Her lips, red, perfect.

 

Her blush, eye shadow, mascara—the whole package, done without error or mistake. Her long brown hair hangs down in ringlets around her shoulders. She puts her mirror away. "He would be pleased," she thinks to herself before checking her shoes.

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New stilettos accentuate her long, shapely legs. Stockings feel soft against her skin, and a special pair of panties is her little secret for the day. The floral blue sundress wraps around her body and clings to her hips like a second skin. She tugs slightly at the top of the dress, trying to hide some of the abundant cleavage, when suddenly her phone beeps, startling her, even though the volume is at its lowest setting.

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She immediately picks up the phone and looks at it to see what message he has sent her. "Leave the cleavage out," says the text message.

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"Yes, Sir," she texts back, places the phone down, and reaches to pull down the dress so ample cleavage can be seen again. She picks the phone back up and sends him another text, a single word:

 

"Obeyed."

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Chills run over her body, and she finds it strange that even though she is fully clothed, she feels exposed. It makes her heart beat a little faster, scaring her a little and exciting her all at the same time. Several men walk by her as she sits waiting. One particularly handsome gentleman raises his glass to her. "Here's to you, beautiful!" he smiles, and she blushes, looking down at her newly manicured hands and engagement ring, feeling more out of place at that moment than she has ever felt in her life.

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Her phone beeps and startles her again. She reaches for it with shaky hands and eagerly reads his next message.

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"That guy you just smiled at—go to the bar, and ask for a napkin and a pen. Let him know you're an easy fuck. Write your name and number on the napkin, give it to him, run your hand up his thigh to his crotch while never losing eye contact. Walk away and sit back down in your seat."

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"Yes, Sir," she texts back and slips her phone into her purse. Her heart is racing. She has never done anything like this before. Sometimes she wonders what strange hold he has over her, why she follows his instructions without question.

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Brenda stands, her palms sweaty as she smooths down her dress, which all of a sudden seems way too short. Her stilettos seem to be the only sound in the bar as she walks across the floor. She moves in between the guy who toasted her and his buddy. "Can I get a napkin and a pen, please?" she asks the bartender. He looks at her a little confused but searches under the bar, retrieving a pen and napkin and slides it across the bar to her.

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Brenda knows she is being watched very closely by the one who makes the rules and by several people in the bar. She smiles and introduces herself to the handsome stranger, and finally gets a good look at him. "My name is Charles," he says to Brenda as she admires his dark skin and black curly hair, how his beard frames his face, and how his eyes seem to be the bluest of blues. She catches herself blushing again as she writes on the napkin:

 

"Brenda Barnes...620-455-565.

Use my number anytime you want a good fuck."

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She folds the napkin and puts it into Charles's pocket, hoping he does not read it until she leaves, then leans in and runs her right hand up his thigh, her knuckles grazing the big bulge in his pants. His dick twitches at her touch, and she smiles and blushes at the same time, looking deep into his eyes and biting her bottom lip.

Then turning, she slowly moves back to her table and sits down. She gets her cell phone from her purse and sends another text, again just a single word: "Obeyed."

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She does not look back at Charles again but feels her body warming at the thought of his eyes on her, the stranger whose cock throbbed against her hand only minutes before. She pictures them tangled up together in heated passion and wonders where such thoughts come from. She never had any before he came along and found her.

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Brenda is deep in thought when her phone buzzes again. She reaches and picks it up, looking around as if she is worried someone else might see her message.

She reads, "Take off your heels!" It is an odd request, but she has learned that those tend to lead to the biggest adventures, so she will comply.

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"Yes, sir," she immediately replies. Leaning over to unbuckle the strap to her stilettos, her big round breasts about to spill out of the top of her dress, she makes eye contact with Charles at the bar once again. He is holding the napkin open, and Brenda can tell that his buddies have read her little message to Charles as well.

Surprisingly, she keeps eye contact with all of them as she removes one stiletto at a time, then sets them neatly to the side and places her stocking feet on the cool hardwood floor as the men gaze upon her beauty, mesmerized by her actions.

Picking up her cell phone yet again, she sends her Secret Master another text:

 

"Obeyed!" One word, nothing more, is needed.

 

Too many words had gotten her into trouble before. Even if this is new territory to her, she has learned a thing or two about boundaries and following instructions. An obedient girl is a happy girl at the end of the day, and oh, how happy the man on the other end of those texts could make her feel.

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"Good girl!" comes the next text. "Now show your appreciation for the attention. Turn in your seat and spread those sexy legs and leave the gentlemen with the image of your beautiful pussy forever in their minds."

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"Yes, sir," she responds, feeling her panties getting moist as she turns. All eyes at the bar are still on her. She smiles again, spreads her legs, and moves her panties to the side, revealing her freshly shaven pussy, moist and glistening in the light—so inviting and yet off limits. It is beautiful torture to the men whose erections are pushing against the fabric of their pants, wanting release.

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Another erratic buzz, and she is excited to see what will come next. Picking up her cell, she reads the following text: "Exit the cafe. Leave your shoes!"

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"Yes, Sir," she texts back while in her mind a thousand questions swirl. Brenda stands barefoot and begins to walk toward the door. Before she can make it, she hears a voice calling out behind her. "Ma'am," says a handsome young waiter, "you forgot your shoes."

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"I don't want them anymore," she says with a nervous giggle and keeps walking. She stops at the door because her phone beeps once more. She reads the text. She bites her lip. She turns back and sees the waiter staring at her. She blushes. She lifts her skirt and shows the waiter her thong panties. Across the front of the panties is the phrase "Thank you!"

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She puts her skirt down and dares not look at the waiter again. After she exits the cafe, she sends a text with one word: 

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"Obeyed."