The Playboy's Proposition (5 page)
I don’t think I could have been more discombobulated than I
was during the walk to Michael’s car. First, there was all the consternation of
the dress, a dress that felt more like lingerie than outerwear, clinging to
every part of me it touched. Second, I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties, an
experience that was still new to me, and disconcerting to say the least. Third,
and last, the Ben Wa balls were doing their thing with every step I took.
It truly was a good thing that Michael guided me the whole
way, his hand resting on my bare skin at the base of my spine. I had way too
much to think about to concentrate on getting from point A to point B.
The car ride was another interesting, and perturbing
experience. Every bump in the road sent thrills of sensation through me.
Michael chuckled more than once when I made some little involuntary sound after
we hit a patch of rough pavement.
The drive to the restaurant took less than thirty minutes.
He pulled the car up to the front of a lovely old building where valets waited
to park the car. I read the small, discreet sign on the stone wall: The
Millhouse. I recognized the name. It was one of the city’s finer restaurants.
There was no way I could ever afford to eat at such a place.
I somehow managed to exit the car with my modesty intact.
The young valet gave me an appreciative, but respectful nod as he took the keys
from Michael. Another valet opened the front door for us and we were ushered
inside.
The entryway was spacious, including a coat check area which
was mostly empty, naturally, since it was summer. A maître d’ in formal attire
stood behind a podium and smiled at us in a dignified way. I took a look around
while Michael spoke with the man.
The restaurant was large, with a clean and modern look,
though it was not in the least cold the way some modern designs can be. The
lighting was soft and the textures of the fabrics and carpet were luxurious and
plush.
I heard Michael give the maître d’ his name. The man
responded by telling Michael our table was ready and that our party was already
waiting for us. I glanced at Michael in some surprise, but he only smiled and
gestured for me to follow the maître d’.
Most of the tables and booths were filled with couples, or
pairs of couples. Everyone was beautifully dressed and coifed, the many-layered
scent of their expensive perfumes and colognes wafted subtly in the air,
alternating with the heavenly smell of the artistically-arranged food being
delivered to their tables.
The patrons spoke in discreetly-lowered voices, sipping from
wine glasses, laughing politely. Many of them watched as Michael and I passed,
the eyes of the women on Michael, the eyes of the men on me.
I wondered briefly how much harder those men would stare if
they knew I wasn’t wearing any underwear, but had to cut off that line of
thought since it threatened to send me into a bout of nervous laughter.
And I was definitely nervous. This was not the kind of place
I normally frequented. In fact, I never frequented them at all. I would have
been far more comfortable at a greasy spoon diner, or some chain restaurant.
Everything was unfamiliar. I felt completely out of my element, from my
surroundings to my clothes, to the sensations of the balls moving inside of me.
The maître d’ led us around a room divider and far into the
rear of the restaurant, back into a corner booth with high backs. Michael
assured the man that this was exactly as he had requested, then motioned me to
slide into the booth while he greeted the large man already sitting on the
other side.
I gratefully took my seat, watching Michael shake hands with
the mystery guest before sliding in beside me. I noted the privacy of the booth
with its tall, thick sides, the height of them reaching upwards of over ten
feet, nearly all the way to the high ceiling, more like room dividers than
backs of seats. I knew there were other guests talking right behind me, but
only because I had seen them when I walked past; I couldn’t hear them at all.
I had never seen the man sitting in the booth with us. I
would have guessed him to be in his 40s. He was very large, barrel chested,
looking like he could burst out of his suit jacket with the least provocation.
Not that his suit was tight; it wasn’t. It fit him well. It was just his sheer
thickness which made a rent seam appear imminent.
He had dark brown hair, cut short, and a nicely-trimmed full
beard. In general, he was good looking, with even features. Though he was too
burly for my usual taste, I could see how he might be appealing to many women.
I couldn’t have been more surprised when Michael introduced
us.
He said, “You two haven’t met, I don’t believe, though you
kind of know each other. Nonnie, this is Ron Hoyte. Hoyte, this is Nonnie
Crawford.”
Ron smiled broadly. No wonder I hadn’t recognized him. He
had been wearing a hood when I saw him at the club, Private Residence.
He held out a beefy hand to me. I couldn’t help but remember
the last time I had seen that beefy hand; it had been squeezing the shit out of
a pair red and swollen breasts that he just had beaten with a rod.
I focused on holding my hand steady while Ron gave me a
hearty handshake. My hand felt tiny in his.
“Of course I remember you, darlin’,” he said, with a wink
that threatened to make me blush. “Elaine has had a lot of nice things to say
about you.”
I smiled, and struggled to regain my composure. “You have a
lovely wife. She’s been very kind to me.”
Ron laughed. “Yeah, I guess she’s kind enough, when she’s
not tearing into me for not doin’ what she wants.”
I smiled and wondered mildly about the relationship between
Elaine and Ron, thoughts of Elaine kneeling on the floor in the display room
and being called “slave.” They must be a different couple in the
bedroom/playroom than they were out of it.
A waiter arrived to fill our water glasses and deliver our
menus.
After the waiter left, Michael asked, “Where’s Elaine? I
thought she was coming.”
“Oh, she’ll be here. She was running late at work, but
she’ll get here soon enough I imagine.”
We chatted for a few minutes about the restaurant, and
discussed the menu. We decided to wait for Elaine before ordering our meals,
but Michael called the waiter over and sent him off for some wine.
So we sipped wine, and chatted, and I learned that Ron and Elaine
were the owners of a small chain of retail stores that carried goods for
outdoor activities like hunting, fishing and camping. They had come to the city
to open two new stores, and had liked it here enough that they decided to move
their headquarters here and become permanent residents.
Ron was the president of the company, while Elaine was the
financial chief. I would have never imagined two such seemingly down-home
people being commercial movers and shakers.
I briefly told Ron I was an office manager at a small
cosmetics company, but didn’t much elaborate. It seemed to me that he wouldn’t
be interested in my piddly professional affairs, though he was very polite and
friendly and asked several questions.
Soon enough, Ron turned his attention to the relationship
between Michael and myself.
Ron said, “So Weston, it sure was your lucky night when you
met this pretty lady, eh?”
Michael smiled, “It was. As I recall, that night was lucky
for you, too.”
Ron laughed in a deep rumble. He gave me a significant look.
“In more ways than one. Of course, I’ve always considered myself the luckiest
of men. Lucky in business, lucky in love, lucky my kids have grown up and
aren’t living in my basement.”
We smiled and toasted to Ron’s luck. I felt some discomfort
from the look Ron had given me. He was thinking about seeing me naked in the
viewing room, I was certain. Any doubt I might have had about that soon
evaporated.
Ron said, “Now then, Miss Nonnie. How’s Weston treating you?
I understand you’re a newcomer to our world.”
“Hmm, yes,” I mumbled, self-conscious. “I’m new I guess.”
Michael said, “Notice that she didn’t answer your question
about how I’ve been treating her.”
Ron winked at me then said, “That’s probably because you’ve
been a selfish bastard, Weston, and she’s too nice to say so. Of course, you’ll
have to understand, Miss Nonnie, that most of us Doms are selfish bastards.
It’s our job. Especially when we’re training pretty new subs like yourself.”
The two men grinned while I was left tongue-tied. I squirmed
in my seat, setting the balls rolling inside me, further adding to my
consternation.
Michael squeezed my knee and announced, “Look at her, Hoyte.
Isn’t she charming? All fresh and easily embarrassed. And beautiful, too.
Simply charming.”
They admired me with a hefty amount of obvious leer. Michael
moved his hand up to the neckline of my dress and ran a finger along the edge
of the fabric.
He said, “And this dress looks stunning on her, as I knew it
would. Plus, it’s something of a trick dress. Watch closely, Hoyte. You won’t
want to miss a moment.” And he began to tug at the neckline, pulling it down
slowly.
I looked from Michael to Ron, then back to Michael. They
watched my chest as my dress dipped lower and lower, showing the tops of my
breasts.
It was too much. And too soon. And to do it here, in this
hoity-toity restaurant. Too much.
I furiously shook my head and grabbed Michael’s hand. I said
firmly, “No.”
It seemed as if time stood still. None of us moved. I stole
a quick glance at Ron. He was looking at Michael. I glanced at Michael. His
face was taut with anger.
Ron was the first to speak. “If you’ll excuse me for a
second, I’ll leave you two alone and give Elaine a call. Find out what’s taking
her so long.”
Michael nodded. I said nothing. Ron slid out of the booth
and was gone in an instant.
I said, “I’m sorry about that. I was uncomfortable and it’s
a restaurant and ...”
Michael interrupted me. “I don’t want to hear it. Look at
me.”
I did. His pale blue eyes gleamed down at me. I realized I
had never actually seen him angry before. I had thought that I had seen him
angry, but seeing him now, I knew those other times were nothing.
He said in a firm voice, “No more playing around. Do you or
do you not know what this relationship is?”
“I think I do.”
“Then what is it?”
“Well, we’re seeing each other. Dating, kind of.”
He shook his head. “No, we’re not dating. We agreed we would
spend five nights together exploring your submissiveness. That’s not dating.
Right now, no matter how it might seem, this is not a dinner date.”
I said stupidly, “It’s not.”
“No, it’s not. After your response to the men at the adult
book store the other night, I decided to change my plans for you, as I said I
would. I paid a small fortune to reserve exactly this booth for us tonight
because it’s public, but also secluded. Look over there, only one booth might
be able to see what we’re doing, and that booth is empty. Why is it empty?
Because I’m paying for it to be empty.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Then I called Ron, and asked him and Elaine to join us
tonight. I asked them to come play with us because I thought that since you’ve
been naked in front of them already, it would be easier for you to let go with
them.”
Once again, “Oh,” was all I could manage to say.
“Then I went shopping to find the right dress for you for
the evening. And I sought out better Ben Wa balls for you. And I spent a great
deal of time thinking about exactly what we should all do here tonight, for
you. So you can start overcoming this block of yours.”
He continued, “And what do I get from you in return?
Disrespect. That’s what I got the first second I touched you. Disrespect and
ingratitude. You call this a date. I would never go to so much trouble for a
simple date.”
I lowered my head. I wanted to fight back, to say he was
being unfair accusing me of ingratitude when I hadn’t known he had gone to such
trouble for me this evening. I didn’t want to admit I had disrespected him,
that I had been ungrateful, no matter how much evidence he had piled up against
me.
Michael reached out and took my chin, tilting my head so I
could look into his eyes. Much of the anger had left his face, but a firmness
of purpose remained.
He said, “We need to come to an understanding right now. If
you’re submissive, then you should want to please me.”
I said, “I do want to please you. It’s just that I didn’t
think and there’s Elaine too. I was thinking of her and how strange it was to
be doing this with her husband. She’s a friend and you don’t mess around with
your friends’ husbands.”
Michael made a dismissive sound. “That’s ridiculous. The
first time you saw them, Hoyte whipped and fucked another woman in front of
Elaine.”
“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“Absurd. Ron and Elaine obviously have an open relationship.
I know for a fact that it couldn’t possibly be open any wider.”
“I didn’t know that, though.”
“We’re not going to debate the obvious. The fact remains
that you should have done as I asked of you, because I asked it, and because it
wasn’t too much to ask. It was nothing. I’m not going to keep fighting with you
about things like this. Either you’re going to start giving yourself
wholeheartedly to what we’re doing together, or we’re going to have to end it.”
I frowned up at him but said nothing.
He said, “I’m serious, Nonnie. You behaved badly tonight,
and you embarrassed me in front of Hoyte. You’ll have to be punished for that.
Now, you sit there for awhile and think about what you want. If you decide to
commit yourself to me, then you’ll think of an apology to give Ron and me for
your poor behavior, then we’ll be able to proceed with the night I’ve planned
for you.”
He continued, “But if you decide an apology is too much,
that you can’t give yourself over to me, then let me know and I’ll take you
home. Do you understand?”
There was no arguing with him. I could see that. I wasn’t
sure anymore that I even wanted to keep arguing. I nodded, then looked down at
my hands clasped in my lap. I thought about what he had said.
I didn’t like being chastised. It made me feel small,
regardless of the validity of the charges he laid against me. Had I been
disrespectful and ungrateful? When I saw it from his point of view, then the
answer had to be yes, that’s what I had been. My own point of view was
different. I hadn’t meant to be those things, and that should make a
difference. Mitigating circumstances, that’s what I had.
Yet even as I thought that, I realized something else. When
I made the decision to call Michael and accept his offer, I told myself that I
would give myself over one hundred percent to whatever this was that we would
be doing together. But I hadn’t given myself over to it ... “it.” I couldn’t
even name what this thing was. Why?
Was I afraid?
Was fear holding me back? Fear of what it might mean if I
truly were submissive.
The deep down and honest truth was, I couldn’t see how it
would be possible for me to be a strong woman in control of my own life, and
then suddenly allow a man to order me around as if I were some brainless twit
whose sole purpose in life was to please him and allow him to do whatever he
wanted with me.
It was an either/or. Either I was a woman of power, or I was
a woman who wanted to relinquish that power to a man. I couldn’t reconcile
these two ideas, see how it was possible for me to be both women at the same
time.
I thought of Elaine. Elaine was no nitwit. And yet she
submitted to Ron. It wasn’t difficult to understand the difference between
public life and private, sexual life, so why was I being hard-headed?
I sensed this went back to the debacle of my relationship
with my ex-husband. And I knew that one day I would have to consider all of the
implications of my past on my present. But not tonight. Tonight I had a
decision to make about my immediate future.
It wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to apologize for what
had happened, for what I had done. Most importantly, I needed to remind myself
why I was here, to remember what it felt like to truly give myself over to
another person’s desires. And I needed to commit, really commit to being
submissive.
There, I had said the word submissive to myself. A good
sign.
While I was thinking, Ron returned to the table and told
Michael that Elaine was getting ready at home and would arrive soon, he hoped.
They talked about general matters like sports and the news, ignoring me
completely, letting me do my thinking, I presumed.
When I was ready, I laid a hand on Michael’s forearm. He
soon stopped talking and looked at me. I saw right away that he was on edge
about what my decision would be, and this knowledge warmed me, made what I had
to say all the easier.
I nodded at him, and then at Ron, who looked on me kindly.
I said as sincerely as I knew how, “I’m very sorry for what
I did before. I overreacted. It was improper and ungrateful of me to act that
way. I promise I’ll try harder in the future to please you and show you the
proper respect, and you, too, Ron. I hope you’ll accept my apology and forgive
me.”
Ron beamed at me and said, “What a pretty little speech,
darlin’. Of course I forgive you.”
I thanked him then looked at Michael. His wide, proud smile
told me that I had done well. He took my shoulders, pulling me toward him, then
kissed me hard on the lips.
After he released me, he said, “I accept your apology.
You’ve pleased me.”
I felt a happy glow from his praise. As awful as it felt to
have done wrong, it felt equally as wonderful to have done right. There was an
appealing simplicity to it. I breathed a sigh of relief and reached for my wine
glass.
Michael said, “Hoyte, I have a favor to ask.”
“What?”
“Text your wife and ask her if it’s okay for you to see
Nonnie’s tits.”
I practically spewed the wine out of my mouth. I did choke a
bit, and Michael casually patted me on the back.
Ron looked amused and confused. “Okay,” he said, and pulled
out his phone. His huge thumbs danced around on the surface of the phone,
though how he was able to select the tiny letters I had no idea.
He asked Michael, “Why am I asking my wife’s permission to
see Miss Crawford’s ta-ta’s?”
Michael answered, “Because Nonnie is concerned that Elaine
might object, since they’re friends.”
Ron practically guffawed. Though I couldn’t see anyone else
to make sure, he had to have drawn the attention of half the diners in this
side of the restaurant. He drew a big breath of air, then said, “I’m sorry,
darlin’. I don’t mean to be laughing at you. It’s real nice that you don’t want
to hurt Elaine. It’s just that the very idea of Elaine ...” he trailed off into
laughter.
Michael simply smiled serenely through all of this. I wanted
to hit him.
Ron’s phone beeped and he picked it up. He appeared to read
something, then he texted for a few seconds and set the phone back down. “Just
a second,” he said, pouring himself more wine, then topping up Michael’s and my
glasses.
His phone beeped again. He picked it up and read. Then he
handed the phone to me.
He said, “There ya go. Read that.”
I took the phone and read: “I’m supposed to ask you if it’s
okay for me to see Michael’s sub’s titties.”
Elaine’s response was: “ROFL. Good one.”
To which Ron wrote: “No, seriously. Nonnie wants to know.
Afraid it will upset you.”
Elaine’s answer: “Aww, she’s so sweet. U tell her it’s just
fine with me. And don’t make fun of her. She’s new.”
I handed the phone back to Ron and grabbed up my wine glass.
I thought, guess that told me, and took a long drink.
Michael propped an elbow on the table and turned to look at
me. “It appears you have gotten permission, Hoyte. So, Nonnie, pull down your
dress. We want to see your breasts, don’t we, Hoyte?”
“I’ve never turned down lookin’ at a pair o’ fine tits,” Ron
said, his drawl more pronounced than ever. “I’ll keep a watch out for the
waiter, little girl, I promise, no matter how hard it’ll be to look away from
you.”
Here it was. Michael had thrown down the gauntlet. No more
squeamishness. Michael was right that there should be nothing to it, not
really. Ron had already seen me naked. I hadn’t known he could see me, not at
the time. But still, he had seen me. It should be easy. It wasn’t. I was going
to do it anyway.
I leaned forward a bit to give the dress some slack, then I
pulled on the straps and dropped the neckline below my breasts, baring my chest
completely. I dropped my hands to my sides and held my breath, tensely awaiting
what would come next.
Michael exclaimed, “Ta-da! See? What did I say? It’s a magic
dress.”
Ron studied my breasts with a serious air. “I don’t know
about magic, but it’s damned convenient, and clever, too. My congratulations,
Weston. Those tits are even finer up close than they were at a distance.”
Michael cupped one of my breasts. “They have a nice weight
to them. Big, but not too big.”
Ron said, “Yup, they’re a good size. Truth is, I like ‘em
all sizes. From ittybitty-hardly-there all the way up to
Dolly-Parton-good-god-amighty.”
Michael shook his head. “Not me. Especially not those big
watermelon fake tits. I hate those. Nonnie’s are perfect. Look at her nipples.”
He pinched one of my nipples and said to me, “Quit slumping. Arch your back and
show off my property. That’s right. Like that.”
Ron blew out a breath. “Well now, that’s awful pretty. Hell,
it’s gonna be a long night.”
Michael flicked both of my nipples. “She’s very responsive,
too.”
Ron nodded.
“Very responsive,” repeated Michael, and he gave me a few
more stinging flicks. “Or she’s just cold.”
The two men chuckled. I endured this onslaught, both aroused
and embarrassed to have my body examined and discussed like it was a car the
men were admiring.
Ron said, “The waiter’s coming.”
Michael said to me, “Cover yourself.”
I quickly pulled up the dress, hiding my breasts behind the
silky blue fabric. And it wasn’t a moment too soon. The waiter walked up to the
table an instant after I was done. Clearly, Ron had called it closely.
The waiter delivered a basket of bread. As soon as he was
gone, Michael demanded that I pull the dress down again.
He also pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and had me
slide it under my butt, telling me to sit on it bare-assed, and explaining that
I wouldn’t want any wet spots on my dress. It was embarrassing, but it was
practical, too. I did as he asked and pulled up the hem of my dress so I wasn’t
sitting on it.
All of these goings on and my partial nudity didn’t stop us
from digging into the bread. It was delicious with a crunchy crust and soft
insides. Every time a flake of crust fell onto my chest, Michael picked it off
of me or leaned over to lick it up.
While finishing the bread and drinking more wine, they
continued discussing my breasts. That they could find so much to say about them
was a wonder to me. I was eventually told to put my hands behind my neck and
push my breasts farther forward.