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(continued from page one)

The car stopped, and Jennifer realized that they had already reached the restaurant. The chauffeur had pulled in front, and got out of the car to open their doors. Mark was on the right side, so he got out first. He took Jenny’s hand to lead her out, and she once again felt too lost to resist.

They entered the restaurant, leaving the chauffeur to take care of himself for awhile. The head waiter immediately came forward, a small well-dressed gentleman. “Mr. Antonio!” he said in an obsequious french accent. “How good it is to see you again! I have saved you your usual table.” The waiter led the way to a small elegant table on the side of the restaurant.

Mark pulled Jennifer along, and she wondered to herself whether he was trying to impress her with all this fanciness and glitz. It was like dating a movie star, she supposed, only she knew that like her, all these others were just under Mark’s control. It was his power that made this all possible. Still, she had to admit she was a little swept away with it all. It was certainly the most impressive first date she had been on. And thus far, he had been relatively nice and polite, despite his habit of calling her ‘slave.’ He certainly did not seem like the monster she had thought him.

Of course, Jenny admitted to herself, she had not resisted yet. Still, her apprehension at being with Mark faded, and she started to relax.

She realized that the head waiter had pulled out her chair, and she sat down across from Mark. The head waiter walked off, and Jennifer heard him telling someone to ‘take good care of Mr. Antonio.’

The restaurant was very elegant, one of those romantic places with low lights and candles in the middle of the table. A place for lovers. Mark looked at her over the table, his eyes glinting. “So, Miss Cailly, what do you think so far?”

“You seem to have gone to a lot of trouble to impress me,” she said hesitantly, not sure what his reaction would be.

He only nodded slightly to her, his eyes dancing in the candlelight. “And are you impressed?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted reluctantly, meeting his eyes. “That is, I’m impressed with your power.”

“Good,” he said. “You should be.” He waved his hand at the restaurant. “You see, Jennifer, to be my slave is not such a bad thing. I ask very little from you, and look how much you can receive! Is this life so bad?”

As soon as he mentioned what he asked of her, her mind flashed back to when she had been in the park. The man on the bench, his eyes flashing confusion, shock, and above all, ecstasy. Her fingers slick with sperm, his sperm. Her breasts bared for everyone’s appraisal. This was very little? He stole her freedom, he made her an object for some boy’s pleasure.

“How can you say that?” she burst, louder than she had intended. “How can you possibly expect me to exchange my freedom for this? Can you honestly believe I accept what you ask of me?”

Mark’s dark eyebrows narrowed. “I would ask you to keep your voice down, Jenny. I don’t want a slave of mine to disrupt the dinners of others. It reflects poorly on me.”

“What?” asked Jennifer. “How…”

“In fact….” interrupted Mark, and his voice was now very stern. “I think that if you raise your voice again, you will remove an article of clothing. Starting now.”

“What?” asked Jennifer, and then she remembered his power. He had just used it on her. She quickly became quiet.

“That’s better,” said Mark. “I’m sorry, Jennifer, but you must remember who you are yelling at. I am your master. Whether you like it or not. Please apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” Jennifer said quietly. She inwardly cursed herself for making him mad.

“That’s better.” He reached under the table and pulled out a bag. “Now, Jennifer, I said before that you were very beautiful, and you are, and I am happy with how you dressed to please me. However, I am displeased with what you wore. You are over-dressed for this situation. Fortunately, I brought you an outfit to wear.” He indicated the bag.

Oh, god, thought Jennifer to herself. He’s going to make me change, out here, in public. She realized this with cold certainty.

Almost as if he read her mind, Mark said, “Oh, don’t worry. You can go to the bathroom to change.” Jennifer was so relieved she actually smiled. She took the bag from him and got up to head to the bathroom.

“Oh,” his voice followed her, “of course, I meant the MEN’s bathroom.”

She turned, shocked. He was casually examining the tablecloth.

“And naturally you won’t displease me by changing in the stall.” He lifted his eyes, and they flashed malevolently at her.

Jennifer opened her mouth to argue, but knew by the look in his eyes that it would do no good. Finally, she turned, and walked to the bathroom.

At first she hovered by the door to the woman’s bathroom, acting like she was preparing to go in, but actually looking at the door to the men’s bathroom. She held the bag he had given her tightly in her arms, and her stomach rose and fell like a roller coaster. What if a guy was already in there? How long should she wait, before she went in? How long did guys take to pee, anyhow? Then she realized that the longer she waited, the greater the chance that some other man would enter while she was changing. Finally, she gritted her teeth and pushed through the door.

The bathroom was empty, and she exhaled. At least she didn’t have to worry about that. She checked the door on the off-chance that it had a lock. No such luck.

She hesitated only a second, realizing that the longer she took, the greater the chance of being interrupted. Cautiously, she pushed open the door and took a peek outside, to see if anyone was making a beeline to the bathroom. No one. She was safe for awhile.

She stood in front of the mirror, and quickly pulled down the zipper to her dress. As she stepped out of it, she remembered how much underwear she wore underneath it. Another quick peek out the door; no one.

“Come on, Jenny, get on with it before you get caught,” she muttered. She kept her shoes on; they wouldn’t get in the way too much. She reached into the bag and looked at what she had been provided with. Her heart sank. The black leather skirt was very short, the panties very slim, and she couldn’t find a bra. The silk blouse was fairly sheer; her nipples would be very visible through them. “What a sleaze,” she said, but at least it was better than nothing.

She started to pull of her various undergarments, pulling the slips over her head. She slipped off the panties (she had worn four pairs), pantyhose and the silk underskirts all at the same time, and felt really vulnerable, seeing her black pubic triangle reflected in the mirror. Was that someone at the door? Seconds passed, no one entered. Just her imagination. Jenny cursed herself for letting time slip by and pulled on the tiny panties he had provided her with. They barely covered her rear end, and in the front she had pubic hair protruding from the top of the waistband. Still it had to do. She pulled on the skirt frantically, almost losing her balance, and experienced some temporary relief at being more decent. The skirt was fairly tight, and clung to her rear end. But at least it covered her.

Next she pulled off the various silk tops, and finally unsnapped her bra. She tore at it, trying to get it off, almost getting tangled in it, but finally, it fell to the floor. Her breasts were free, and she once again felt exposed.

And then she heard the door opening.

The man who entered looked at least as shocked as she was. His eyes stared at her chest, and she realized what kind of show she was giving him. She quickly reached down to snag the blouse, only to fumble it away in her scrambling.

The man was quicker to recover. “I think one of us is in the wrong bathroom,” he said, in a cultured english accent. He leaned on the counter, and made no move to avert his eyes from Jenny’s naked breasts.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” mumbled Jenny. “Let me finish changing, and I’ll leave.” She was acutely aware at how her breasts jounced around as she bent down to pick up the blouse, and acutely aware of how his brown eyes were locked onto her brown nipples.

“Oh, take your time. It’s not often that I see such a beautiful naked woman as yourself.”

Was that meant as a compliment? Jennifer would have taken it more so if the man’s lecherous eyes weren’t so frozen on her nipples. At least he could see what her face looked like.

“You have such lovely breasts. May I….touch them?” Jenny’s eyes widened in shock, and she focused on the man again. He was running his hand over the bathroom counter, slowly, fondling it. His breathing was a little too quick, and his eyes a little too intense.

“No!” she shouted, and then, for some reason, she was compelled to remove her shoe. The man had started to drift closer to her, and now he rubbed his hands together in front of him.

She frantically pulled the blouse over her head, and over her torso. Looking down, she realized it did little good. The fabric was sheer enough that her breasts were still very visible, and she didn’t have time to do up the buttons. Still, it was apparently as decent as she was going to get.

“They look so soft…so lovely…”

“Go away!” Jennifer pushed aside his advancing hands, and stuffed everything she could in the bag, including her two shoes. She grabbed the bag and pushed through the man toward the door. As she passed him, she felt one of his hands brush over her left breast. His palm stroked across her nipple in what felt like a burst of electricity that coursed through her body. Then she was out the door and making her way toward Mark, buttoning the blouse as she went.

Mark apparently had ordered for her. A plate of steaming Escargot waited for her as she sat down, and Mark was a third of the way finished with some chicken dish. He looked up as she approached, and let his eyes wander over her body.

“Very nice!” he smiled.

She dropped into her seat. “Damn you!” she growled, careful to keep her voice down… after all, she couldn’t afford to lose any more clothes. “I almost got raped in there, you know!”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have gotten raped.” He stuck a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

“He was there, damn it! He wanted to touch my breasts! He would have raped me if I hadn’t gotten away!” She said this before she realized it, louder than she intended, and immediately her fingers were working at the buttons of the blouse, even as she struggled to control them, and soon the blouse was unbuttoned. Her hands pulled apart the two sides, and she felt the air against her breasts. Her hands dropped.

“Can you blame him?” asked Mark, admiring her. “You have such lovely breasts, my slave.” And he sipped a glass of wine as Jennifer lay open to his, and the restaurant’s, view. She could feel her face hot with shame.

Finally, Mark spoke. “Button your blouse, Jenny.” She felt her hands released from whatever power held them, and she quickly covered herself again. Frantically, she looked around, and was relieved to see no one appeared to have noticed her when she was exposed. She turned back to Mark, to see him staring deep into her eyes. She was caught, held, by those eyes.

“There are two lessons you need to learn as my slave, Jennifer. The first is obedience. You are learning this; you performed my bathroom instructions very well, and without complaint. I am pleased. The second thing is that you need to learn to have faith in me. I am your master, Jennifer, and that means that not only do you serve me, but I am responsible for you. That means I don’t let you get hurt. I don’t let men rape you. I don’t let you catch diseases or get pregnant. I control, Jenny, situations as well as people.” He dropped his eyes, and she felt as if he had released her from some spell. “That man would never have raped you, not with me around,” muttered Mark. He said no more, only worked on eating his chicken.

Jennifer watched him eat, and then starting poking at her escargot. It tasted really good, in a rich butter sauce, and she started to eat. After awhile, she even stopped caring that her breasts were visible through the sheer blouse.

When the waiter came, he seemed to pay very close attention to Jennifer’s chest, and was very nervous around her. Nothing Jenny could do about it, so she let him have his view. Mark informed the waiter that they were done.

“Very good, sir. And naturally, that will be on the house.”

“Naturally,” said Mark. “You have given us very good service. I would like to give you an especially good tip.”

The waiter bowed his head modestly.

Mark continued. “You seem to admire the breasts of my slave there, do you not?” Jennifer’s eyes widened. The waiter looked at her chest and nodded. “Well,” said Mark. “Would you like to feel them? That will be your tip.”

The waiter looked a bit taken aback with this offer, but he looked at Jennifer’s breasts and smiled. “Oh, yes, sir. Thank you.”

Mark looked at Jennifer. “Jenny, would you…?” Jenny opened her mouth to protest, then thought better of it, looking at the waiter. Why not let him have his fun? If he’s gentle, then I might even enjoy it. She drew in her breath, reached down, unbuttoned her blouse, and opened it.

The man pressed his hands onto her chest, his palms aligned with her nipples. His hands were cold, and Jennifer gasped a little to feel their touch. Then he started to stroke her, moving his hands in circles over the tips of her nipples, and the electricity she had felt before was repeated a hundredfold. If I enjoy this, I may never be able to resist Mark’s control again, Jennifer thought, but she couldn’t help herself. The waiter stroked her, working her breasts like a sculptor, and she arched her back, pressing them against his hands. She closed her eyes, letting herself drift into the sensation of the hands teasing and playing with her. Finally, she felt them reluctantly from her, and she opened her eyes, coming back to the real world. She realized her panties were very wet.

“You must be a sculptor,” she told the waiter, touching his hand. “Thank you.”

He bowed his head. “It is easy to sculpt what is already beautiful, madam.” And he walked off.

Mark was looking at her, intrigued. “You enjoyed that,” he said. Jennifer blushed and looked down, quickly re-buttoning her blouse. When she peeked up again, Mark was grinning. “Good. Good.” he said. Then he took her by the hand and led her outside to where the limo awaited.

They drove back in silence, and Mark released her back to her dorm, once again brushing her lips with his and sending her on her way. Jennifer had already walked through most of the dorm before she realized she was still wearing the sheer blouse. She hadn’t noticed if anyone else had been staring at her; she thought probably they had been. It was late, but not very late, and Darlene was probably still up, so Jennifer went instead to the bathroom, where she closed the door, sat on the seat, and tried to come to grips with her confusing emotions and desires.

— To be continued

written and produced by Daniel Reinker
comments to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu
Occidental college neither supports nor discourages this story.

— Related post with the earlier chapter: Controlling Jennifer – part I