Here it is, the third part of the story.
'No, my love,' he said as I rose to my feet, 'do it here!'
I had been on my way to the ladies to take my underwear off but his words stopped me. I sank back on the couch.
My heart was beating violently. I knew I must have had a very red face. I had decided to comply but now he had told me I had to do it by the table.
All my defiance, all my annoyance rose up and I looked at him and was prepared to tell him that I wasn't his plaything to command like that. This was not who I was.
I looked at him and what I saw scared me. I saw steel hard resolve in his eyes. I saw a kind of harshness and authority I hadn't known for many years. He resembled the demanding and harsh teachers I had had in school. He was the headmaster who didn't tolerate any disobedience.
A sense of anxiety swept over me and I felt like a little girl, like a silly little girl who had been told to do something she didn't want to do but who had no real choice. A small girl can't fight the grown ups, a little girl has to do what she is told.
I felt an urge to start crying, because I felt so humiliated by his gaze and his demand and my own lack of power. I felt vulnerable and powerless. And now I had seen his strength.
Part of me was that little girl who had no choice and part of me was the grown up woman who had a choice but decided to obey. I surrendered. In a flash I knew I was going to do it. I knew I would reach down and pull my knickers down.
I felt a surge of humiliation and shame sweep over me, the anger was gone. I had surrendered and was relieved I didn't fight it any more. I felt a strange kind of elation when giving in, as if this was something completely new, some new way of living my life I hadn't known before.
I looked around the restaurant and saw that no one was looking at me. I leaned forward and let my hands reach up under my skirt. I looked around some more to make sure my movements went unnoticed. My heart was beating hard and my cheeks were flashing as I lifted my skirt, just enough to allow my hands to get hold of my knickers.
I tugged at them, pulling them down, realising that I had to lift my body to make them come free. I leaned to the right, towards the restaurant as I worked my knickers down from my left buttock. Then I leaned to the left doing the same on the right. This time I was more cautious knowing that it may be seen by the guests.
My heart was hammering hard in my chest as I repeated this movement from side to side as I carefully worked my knickers down over my bottom.
I felt a little less embarrassed as I felt that my knickers were now free from my bottom and could now more easily be worked down my thighs. I proceeded to do that and felt the fabric slide along the skin on my thighs.
For a while I was so occupied with moving my knickers that I was oblivious to the surroundings, but suddenly I was fully aware of what I was doing. I was sliding my knickers down my thighs. I was sitting in a restaurant, taking my knickers off.
The sensation caused a violent reaction in me. I blushed and felt embarrassment take a hard grip on my heart, squeezing it, making it hard for me to breathe. This overwhelming fear of doing something undoable was accompanied by a sudden and unexpected surge of something else. It was like an electric current that ran through me, from the skin on my thighs that felt the fabric of my knickers glide over it to my groin where it settled and seemed to spark. I realised I was suddenly and violently aroused.
This sense of arousal and shame increased when I slid the knickers over my knees and down my shins. I leaned forward, trying to act as inconspicuous as was possible. I was relieved that the corner of the restaurant was so dark and hoped that the waiter wouldn't approach us as I slipped my knickers down my feet and tried to pull them free from my shoes.
The sensation of removing my knickers from my body, feeling them leave my feet behind gave me a strange sensation of shame of doing something forbidden, a humiliating but overwhelming arousal and a kind of sadness for leaving a part of me behind.
I sat up, my heart beating, knickers a small ball in my right hand. I looked at him.
'Give them to me!' he said.
I had to lift my hand over the table and reach over it to give them to him. He quickly took my knickers and put them in his pocket.
He smiled but I was devastated. I had obeyed him and I was ashamed I had given in, that I had not struggled. But I was also relieved that I had surrendered, and aroused, terribly aroused.
'Now, my love,' he said, 'pull your skirt up!'
I looked at him. I suppose the fear was visible in my eyes.
'I want you to sit directly on the seat,' he explained.
I wanted to cry again. He wasn't done with me and I knew I had to obey him. There was no turning back now.
The sense of shame didn't change as I slowly lifted the hem of my skirt, and the arousal increased. I was shivering as I had to lift my body to slide the skirt free from my bottom and as I sat myself down I felt the coarse fabric of the seat directly against my skin. I felt naked. I felt exposed.
I arranged the skirt in order to make it look natural, as if I wasn't sitting directly on the couch. He knew I was naked under my skirt but I didn't want anyone else to know.
I worried that I would leave stains on the seat and for a while that was my main concern. My heart was beating fast and my cheeks were flustered and I could hardly sit still. I was ashamed and aroused and could not think of anything but my naked skin against the seat.
The dinner proceeded and we got our main courses. I smiled at the waiter doing my best to seem normal. I looked at my company and saw that he was pleased. He smiled at me and gone was the cruel headmaster and I started to relax.
Gone was the self assured lecturer, though, and sitting opposite him was someone else, a girl perhaps, or a woman who had surrendered to him. I felt changed but I didn't know how. I had surrendered to him. I had allowed this to happen and I had given in to his authority and the price I paid was to feel naked, exposed and vulnerable, ashamed and humiliated and very, very aroused.
He looked at me and I think he was pleased with me, and perhaps even proud of me. My heart started beating harder and I felt happy and proud. I had passed the test and I was proud. I allowed myself to be swept away by that sense of pride and joy.
We had our desert and our coffee and he paid and we left. I was happy to feel my skirt fall down and cover my knickerless bottom. I didn't look back to see if the seat was stained. I didn't want to know. I didn't want to have to think about that. It was his responsibility, not mine.
He didn't give my knickers back as we walked in the soft summer night through the streets back to his flat. I was aware that I walked by his side, naked underneath my skirt. With my dress covering my nudity I could almost enjoy it. I knew I was naked under the skirt and I was naked for him and that made me feel special. I had surrendered to him in a way I hadn't done before and despite the shame and humiliation I felt elated by it. it made me feel as if I had shown him, somehow, that I really belonged to him and in that moment I wanted to belong to him, more than anything else.