At the Café with Emily Emily put her hand on my knee and my heart began to pound. I mea
At the Café with Emily Emily put her hand on my knee and my heart began to pound. I mean, it could have been innocent, but I knew it wasn’t – which she confirmed by moving it a tiny ways up my thigh.“You’re wearing panties, I suppose?” she asked with a note of approbation in her voice.“Yes, ma’am,” I answered quietly. We were definitely in ‘ma’am’ territory here.“And why is that?”I had no answer except something like ‘of course I am’ – so I just stammered a “well, you know’…”“And are they wet?”I blushed, or blushed more. “Damp,” I answered truthfully, “And… getting wetter, ma’am.”“Hmmm. Can’t have you touch yourself,” she complained.“Did… you want me to?” We were in public, after all.She took my hand in both of hers. My heart-pounding didn’t lessen. “These two fingers,” she showed me, “Up inside… this far.”“Here?” I squeaked, knowing the answer.“There,” she said, nodding toward me.I tried to swallow, hard, but my mouth was dry.“You know when I get you home, what I’ll do to you?”“Anything you want?” I guessed automatically.“Of course…”“Will you have to spank me?” I asked, or requested, maybe, or begged.“Not your bottom, no,” she promised.So – the crop, I suppose… little smacks in sensitive places, lots of them… or pinches, or both…I was so wet… so so wet… it’s a good thing I do have panties on, I thought… But the look in Emily’s eyes… well, maybe not… -- source link
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