We'd been looking round for half and hour before we found this smaller room off the main one. The music a bit quieter in here. Not a big crowd but a few other couples engrossed in their own stuff.
Who's more afraid?
You or me?

You wanted so much to be here.
You've been building up to it all month long.
Now the coloured lights that spin from a corner of the ceiling flicker across a face that is expectant and a little scared. Grinning bravely up at me.

I'm standing so close to you, we're almost touching.
I can feel you breathing, see you trembling.

It was my suggestion, coming here. Not entirely my scene but I knew you'd love it. And how could I deny you this?

Now I take the heavy collar from its clip on my belt and I fasten it round your neck. You bow your head to let me do it up.
When I place my finger under your chin to lift your face into the light I see your eyes are wider. And I think I understand just what you're feeling.

Whatever will I do with you?
You're just beautiful, so beautiful.

I will do just a little to begin with. There's some hair falling on your face, I sweep the strands aside and tuck them behind your ear. Your eyes follow my hand as it moves.
Now I curl my arm around your neck and take hold of some more of your hair. I give it a tug.

I raise my hand to slap you.
Your sharp intake of breath unnecessary as it's just the lightest of taps of my palm on your cheek.
You're breathing out, you're letting go a second. Only to grit your teeth and brace yourself again for whatever is in store.

I said I'd ask you before I tied your hands together behind your back. We'd fastened your wrist cuffs on in the back of the cab on the way here. Laughing and wondering if the driver could see.
So different now.

All I have to do is take the D-rings and clip them together.
Easily done and easily undone which I bend my head to remind you. And at which you then say yes.

Your hands fastened securely you place one foot on the ground then, carefully, the other. I do not help but I am ready to catch you if you stumble. Standing up you are a little shorter than me. You concentrate on the dog leash slipping through the ring on your collar as much as I do. Now let's go for a walk.
I want to show you off.

Out of the quiet room and into the crowd. More people have turned up. I lead you towards the bar and get you to sit on a stool. You're doing well, Jenni, really well. I know it's hard with all these people watching. I know it's hard because we only really started to know each other tonight, even though we were always friendly before.

We kissed once at a party. I haven't kissed you since.
But here we are doing this.

"I'll have a lemonade, she'll have coke."
The bar staff are used to all this. Your drink arrives with a striped straw bobbing in the glass. You have to get your head at an angle to coax the straw into your mouth.
I am smiling as I watch your efforts.

Ice cubes touch my lips as I drink and this gives me an idea.
Jenni, you're no slender clotheshorse. Your cleavage is ample and below this your breasts strain against the confining material of your dress. Furthermore the fact that your wrists are pinned together behind you makes your chest stick our more.

I scoop an ice cube from my glass and I show you it. Already it is melting in my hand and trickles of cold water falling through my fingers.
I take it to your neck and chill your skin around your collar.
You flinch at first then become accustomed to how it feels. The ice cube journeys down to your breasts. I draw watery patterns across the tops of them till the cube is melted down to a speck. You close your eyes and your lips are parted. The ice cube is gone.

Plenty more in my glass though.
Another ice cube I bring to your lips and you open your sweet little mouth to take it in. You look like you're rolling it around your cheeks 'cause it's that bit too cold to hold still at the moment.

Where's your glass? Now I hold the straw to your lips and get you to drink. I don't remove the straw till it's all gone and only the ice cubes remain clinking at the bottom of the glass.

Yes, your dress is tight, but not too tight for me to hook my finger in the front and pull the clinging material away from your body for a moment. Don't want to stretch it too much so I am quick as I tip all the ice down your cleavage and let go of your dress. The material snaps back into place and pressing those ice cubes, four or five large ones against your skin.

"Oh God!"
You squirm and shake but they are firmly placed. "Am I allowed to talk?"
Yeah, as much as you like but strangely you find words fail you when I rub the ice cubes into your breasts, when I reach down your cleavage and manoeuvre one against each nipple, hold them there and watch your facial contortions.

I ask you do you know what it feels like to have your nipples firmly squeezed after they've just had ice cubes held against them.
Soon you do know. I take a pinch at them through the material of your dress. Pinch, let go. Pinch, hold and squeeze.

You're really getting into it but it's as it there's something else going on in your head. I need to know what it is.
"Well, I'm sorry but I need to pee." you tell me.
No need to be sorry. I remind you that you'll need me to come with you and help you because you can't use your hands.

First a look of shock, then your face breaks into a smile.

As you stand I think I hear an ice cube hit the floor having slid right down the inside of your dress. I imagine its chilly journey over your stomach and legs before it slithered free of you.

You walk very well on the lead. You're graceful and you point your toes. Some slaves would bow their heads but you meet people's eyes and smile. I guess that would bother some mistresses or masters but I like it.
Come on now, my performing girl, away from this huge audience of admirers for a short while.

There isn't anyone waiting for the toilet so we are not seen as we squeeze into the cubicle together. Now, wordlessly you position yourself so you are astride the toilet bowl and you wait for me to hitch up your dress and pull your pants down.

I am standing with my back to the door. I look at you and it hits me just how totally at my mercy you are.

I place my hands on your thighs and push your dress up.

"But you haven't pulled my pants down1" you protest.

"No, I haven't, have I?" I agree, "If you really need to go you'll just have to wet yourself."

You're blushing, Jenni. In the cool of this toilet cubicle I can feel the heat from your face. I crouch down on the floor so that I'll get a better view.
I reach a finger and stroke your swollen clit through your pants.

"Well, Jenni?"

You shift your knees apart really wide so that I can see everything. You take a few deep breaths. I can see you're finding it a bit difficult to let go of all that piss.

I stroke your arm and I smile. Soon I hear the tinkling sound of pee against porcelain and I lean to look just between your shaky needs to see a steady amber stream gushing from your completely sodden pants.

Your chest heaves and you are grinning, obviously relieved.
Is that a little tear in the corner of your eye?

You've done so well, Jenni. I'm pleased.
(Wow! I can't believe we both just did that.)

You ask me do you have to keep your wet knickers on. No, I think I'll take them off and rinse them in the sink. I have lots of fun ideas in mind to do with you here now that you're without underwear.

We kiss deeply, you still sitting on the toilet and me reaching up from where I crouch on the floor. Only our second kiss.

I want to rest a while. You want to dance.
I've unlocked the wrist cuffs and we walk out of the Ladies' hand in hand.

Just got one thing to deal with.

You're about to go onto the dance floor. Ready to stun the crowd with your spectacular moves. I come up behind you and say it quietly in your ear, press your rinsed out pants into your hand.

I'm worried that it might be too much for you, but the look on your face when you turn around tells me that you find this as hilarious as I do. I stand back and watch you, my brave girl, as you march up to the cloakroom attendant and tell her you have something you need to put into your handbag.

She takes your ticket and gets your bag.
Now you turn to look at me a moment, just to check I'm watching before you open the zip and dangle your pants from one finger in full view of everyone then lower them slowly into the bag.

You look triumphant, walking back to me.

I think, for our first date, we're doing rather well.

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