His nimble toes pulled my panties aside, and I shuddered as his big toe penetrated me partway. "I'm fine, too, thanks," he said pleasantly.

She smiled and moved off. My face burned hot. "Why do you do that to me?" I sputtered.

"Because you love it," he answered. His feet pushed my legs farther apart, and his toe returned to the business of teasing and tormenting me. I gasped a little and sighed again involuntarily. My arousal had a new edge to it; even as I pressed myself to his toe, I could not shake the feeling that this was obvious, that everyone in the restaurant must know what he was doing to me.

He continued throughout the rest of the meal. I felt playful and slutty and deliciously naughty, as he had sex with me in this oblique way right in the middle of the crowded restaurant. By the time the plates had been cleared away and my last glass of wine had been finished, I no longer cared if the waitstaff realized what we were doing. Robin played me expertly, keeping me hovering on the edge of losing control without ever losing control of me, letting me keep just enough composure for the sake of decorum while inwardly I roiled and whimpered and begged to be fucked.

Finally the check arrived, and his toe slipped away. He smiled at my response. "You look so disappointed, Naina!" He proffered his credit card, signed the check, and rose. "Shall we?" As he offered me his arm, one hand lightly brushed my cheek, and his fingers trailed over my lips. He pushed a fingertip into my mouth, briefly, causing my heart to flutter, and he smiled at my whimper. "Let's go."

I expected him to lead me to the car, but instead he turned down the sidewalk. "It's a gorgeous evening, and the performing arts center is only a few blocks away. Shall we walk?" I pressed against him and he put his arm around my shoulders; the closeness of his body amplified my longing.

Our destination was, as promised, only a few blocks away. The street was only sparsely populated; most of the businesses-upscale designer stores, a couple of jewelry stores, a Lexus dealership-were closed for the night. We joined a small cluster of well-dressed men and women outside the center; Robin had controlled the timing of our arrival as precisely as he'd controlled everything else this evening, and the patrons were just being seated.

To this day, I have no idea what play we saw.

The crowd was light; the seats immediately around us were vacant. Robin rested his hand on my bare knee, and as the lights over the audience went down, his hand crept, imperceptibly at first, up my leg. Just that light touch was an almost unbearable distraction, causing the performance on the stage to recede far into the distance. Every so often, Robin would lean close to me, his breath hot on my cheek, and whisper into my ear, calling me filthy names. I squirmed and fidgeted in my seat and longed for him.

It went on and on and on, that teasing. His fingers lightly stroked my thigh, his quiet voice murmured hints and promises of obscene pleasures he wished to take from my body, and I sat next to him and quivered with need. Finally, his hand left my knee, and his arm slipped around my shoulders. "Why, Naina, you look to be in quite a state," he said casually. "I bet you'd like to come this evening, wouldn't you?"

The audience stirred; somewhere far away, on a tiny stage too distant to be concerned with, things seemed to be wrapping up. "Yes!" I said, louder than I'd intended.

His hand gripped my hair and pulled, painfully hard. He leaned very close and his tongue flicked for an instant against my earlobe. "Come, then," he whispered. "Right now." His grip tightened in my hair. "Come for me! Do it! Show me! Let it happen! Come for me!"

I gripped the edge of my seat and threw my head back. His words sent a powerful wave of contractions through the walls of my cunt, and before he had even finished speaking, I was in the grip of a powerful orgasm. My back arched so powerfully that my hips came entirely out of the seat. All around me, the audience surged to its feet and broke out in applause. For a brief irrational moment, I thought everyone was watching me, applauding at how hard I was coming...

...then it was over, and I collapsed spent back into the seat. I realized the play had ended, and the audience was applauding the actors' performance, not mine. My body was bathed in sweat, and wetness poured from between my legs. I moaned and turned to face Robin, and kissed him deeply, frantically. "Oh my God, I can't believe I just did that! I came so hard, you have no idea..."

e smirked, with that same infuriatingly smug expression he'd had back at the house. "Oh, I think I do have an idea," he said, and winked. "Whore."

The lights came up. People began streaming from the theater. I rose and leaned heavily against Robin, barely able to walk. I continued to lean against him, half in a daze, as we stepped into the cool night air; between the wine and what had just happened in the theater, I felt almost drugged.

When we reached the car, he opened he passenger door for me. "Have you had a good evening?"

"Mmm, yes," I purred, "wonderful."

"Ah, good. Good." He reached into the car and reclined the passenger seat back as far as it would go. "But there's something I need to tell you." He opened the glove compartment, rummaged around inside for a moment, then straightened and turned to me. "It's not over yet." He took my hands in his, and I heard a metallic rasping sound and felt something cold and hard on my wrists. I looked down in surprise and saw that my wrists were handcuffed together. "I need to take you home and treat you like the fuck-slut you are."

I opened my mouth to reply. Instantly, he grabbed my hair and shoved the penis-shaped gag in my mouth. Hands still tight in my hair, he fastened it behind my head. I let out a muffled "mmf!" of surprise, and tried to pull away, my eyes wide, looking around the street frantically. No passers-by in sight, but that didn't keep me from feeling exposed and vulnerable. His held me firmly as his hand moved quickly; he unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it open, exposing me to the night air. I struggled and squirmed in his grip, and he pulled my hair hard and pushed me into the car. "Nggf! Mmmf!"

He closed the door and got in on the other side of the car. I struggled to sit up, and reached awkwardly for the lever that would straighten the seat. He leaned across the center console and slapped my breast sharply. "Behave!" He placed his hand between my breasts and pushed me back into the seat, and pinned me there while his other hand pulled down the zipper of my skirt. "Let me see that juicy cunt of yours." With that, he yanked my skirt and panties down to my ankles.

I whimpered and leaned forward as he released me, reaching for my skirt. He slapped me again, hard, this time directly on my mound. I twisted and screamed around the dildo, and he pushed me back down on the car seat again. "Stop struggling. Behave."

He started the car and pulled out into the street. I whimpered and moaned and tried to curl up on the seat, feeling exposed. His hand gripped my knee painfully tightly. "Lie still. Spread your legs."

He pulled onto the freeway. I lay on the seat in the darkness, hearing the traffic around us, naked and helpless. What if we get into a traffic accident? The rational part of my mind screamed. What if we get pulled over? I turned and reached for my skirt again, and he slapped me, even harder, on my breast. "No," he said sharply. "Don't make me tell you again."

The trip home took an eternity. I could not seem to stop the small muffled sounds coming from the back of my throat, nor keep myself from twisting and writhing on the seat. His hand slapped me sharply whenever I tried to cover up, his palm landing stinging blows on my breasts, thigh, and a couple of times directly on my pussy. Hot tears of shame and pain leaked from my eyes. As we pulled off the freeway and stopped at the traffic light, he leaned over and shoved his fingers roughly into my pussy. "You are my fuck toy," he said. "This is what happens to fuck toys." He withdrew his fingers and showed them to me. "You like it, too. Look how wet you are!" I moaned and turned away.

When we arrived at the house, he pulled smoothly into the driveway and shut off the car. "Stay there." He got out, walked around the car, and opened my door. Before I could react, he reached in and took me by the arm. "Come on. I want to use you now."

He pulled me to my feet. I reached for my the skirt and panties that lay crumpled around my ankles, and he slapped my breast. "No!" He pulled them from around my feet and tossed them back into the car, then grabbed my hair and my arm and marched me, half-naked, cuffed, and gagged, to the front door. I turned crimson as I stood exposed beneath the porch light while he fished his keys out of his pocket. He seemed casual, nonchalant, moving without haste as he unlocked the door, as though standing on the porch with a frantic, struggling, mostly naked woman next to him was the most natural thing in the world, rather than the sort of thing that might be expected to send the neighbors into an uproar.

Finally, he swung the door wide and pushed me through, then took me by the hair again and half-pushed, half-dragged me into the bedroom.

He shoved me down onto my back across the bed, with my head hanging off the far side. He removed my shoes and pulled my legs apart, then stripped off his shoes and pants, revealing his very hard erection. I expected him to take me, thrust his cock roughly into me, and I squirmed in anticipation. He had something else in mind, though.

He walked around the bed and stood over me, for a moment, looking down with that same infuriating smirk. Then he unstrapped the gag and withdrew it from my mouth. "Are you ready?" Before I could say a word, he gripped the sides of my head and thrust into my mouth.