And now a short break in the ongoing story about Tom and his girls. I will be back with next instalment soon, but this is a short something I just wrote. I publish it here, warts and all.
It was a hot day, and I had to stand in the sun while I was waiting for him. I had dressed for the day, but it didn't really help. I felt too clothed for the weather, yet I was still wearing a bit too little for being quite appropriate while being seen. My sleeveless and striped top was tight, too tight, really. And my shorts were too small. I felt silly, and wondered why had taken them. I knew why. I knew I had done it because I knew he liked it that way. That was rather kind of me.
'Get in the car,' he said, as he stopped beside me. My heart had started beating the moment I saw him approach. He smiled. I smiled too, and suddenly I was excited about going away with him.
He didn't say much as he took us through the crowded street of the city centre. He looked at me from time to time and smiled. I became quite self conscious about him looking at me, at the same time it was not altogether an awkward sensation.
'Take your knickers off,' he said, suddenly.
'Unless you would prefer I stop the car and you step out.'
'We're still in the middle of town.'
'And I am wearing shorts.'
I knew that look on his face. He meant what he said. I wasn't exactly scared of it, but I knew he was determined to have me do as I was told. There was a certain inevitability about it. It made my heart race.
He had had me do the same before, but that time I was wearing a skirt. It was much easier then.
I looked at him, again, and knew I would soon be sliding my shorts down my legs. I started by unbuttoning them. I looked around and thought that I could delay it a little, wait for a less crowded street, a place where he would drive the car in a little bit higher speed.
When I knew I had already waited to long, I began wriggling them down my hips, and had got them to my knees when he stopped. There was a red light. People were standing to the side, waiting to walk across in front of the car.
'Go on,' he said, smiling.
I slipped my shorts down and took them off. I waited a little, for the light to turn green.
'You don't want to take too long with that,' he said. And I knew exactly what he meant.
I lifted my bottom and pulled my knickers down, at the same moment as the car gained speed.
'In the glove compartment,' he said, and I knew he meant my knickers. I was somehow relieved I didn't have to throw them out of the window.
'What are you doing?' he said, as I reached for the shorts.
'Putting my shorts back on.'
'Did I say that you could?'
'You didn't say I couldn't.'
'Putting them on is dressing.'
'I suppose you are right.'
'And you know what the rules are for dressing.'
'Always ask permission.'
'Can I put my shorts on, please?'
'We're in the middle of town, and this car is moving very slowly.'
'The answer is no.'
'Don't cross your legs!'
'Keep them parted, instead.'
He put his hand on my thigh at the same time as I cautiously parted my legs, just a little. He turned to me and smiled.
'Look at the road,' I said.
He chuckled, and let his hand move up my thigh, and then down, on the inside.
'People will be looking,' I said.
'The women will be envious, and the guys will be envious too.'
I found it hard to comment, as his hands moved up the inside of my thigh. I looked up and saw him looking forward, smiling. Then I heard myself gasp as his fingers moved inside. I held my breath as I felt his fingers begin to snake and move.
'You do like this,' he said.
'Don't lie to me, you know what happens when you lie.'
'I am not lying.'
'Some part of you likes it.'
Occasionally he retrieved his hand to change gear, but it always returned to its place. Sometime he just kept his fingers still, and sometimes he moved them about. I never knew what would happen next.
I didn't want to give in to the fire his intruding fingers lit. I looked out of the window, trying to focus on the road signs, on the people on the street, or how the buildings around us were constructed.
'There is something in the back seat. It's for you,' he said.
'I'll look at it later,' I replied.
'I'm not sulking.'
'Look at it.'
I turned round to reach for the plastic bag that was lying on the back seat. He didn't remove his hand, and I got the distinct impression that anyone standing by the road would get a very good look at what was happening.
'You are embarrassing me,' I hissed, as I sat back.
'Yes, I know. I like that. Open the bag now.'
I opened the bag. In it was a leather object. A handle, covered in braided leather, that softened into a short braided tongue, that got thinner and thinner towards the tip. It was a robust thing, quite short, and didn't look like anything I had seen before. I had no doubt, though, that it was some kind of whip.
'A quirt,' he said, 'I have bought you a quirt.'
'And I assume that it is not mine in the sense of me using it?'
'Of course not. I am going to use it,' he said, and smiled, '...on you.'
'What have I done?'
'Nothing much, really. I just wanted to use it.'
'It looks harsh.'
'I think it will be. I am looking forward to it.'
He moved his fingers inside me, and I jumped. The whip, being half naked, his fingers, all seemed to conspire to send a wave of something pleasant, although quite unwelcome through my body.
'You are looking forward to it too.'
'Yes, you are.'
'Don't be daft.'
'Truth to be told, if you like it too much, it's not the same.'
'Don't worry, this one looks mean.'
I held the dreaded thing, still in my hands.
'Take your top off now.'
'I can't do that.'
'Maybe this will be a good pretext for using it. The quirt on your soft bottom for disobedience.'
I looked around and found that we had come up on the highway. The cars moved faster, and were further away, but not far enough for other drivers not to notice if I was wearing a top of not.
'Should I really take my safety belt off?'
'You could always try without taking it off.'
'I have no bra.'
'Yes, I know.'
I managed, somehow, to extract my top from my body, without taking the safety belt off. As I sat back, I felt the coarse fabric of it pass between my breasts. I looked out through the window. I didn't think the oncoming traffic would have time to notice too much, they were far away, but the ones we passed and those who passed us would surely notice.
'Do you enjoy it?' he said.
'Being naked in your car, on a public road, while you have your fingers inside me, knowing that I will taste a brand new whip in a not too distant future?'
'I am embarrassed.'
'That's not what I asked for.'
'If I enjoy it?'
'Yes. I know you are embarrassed, I know you are a bit apprehensive about the quirt. I know you are awkward, but do you enjoy it?'
'Do I have to answer that?'
'Yes, please, do answer.'
I sat for a while, staring out through the window. His fingers were not still, and stayed longer now when there was less need to change gear. I held it back, but those fingers were very persistent. There would come a moment when I no longer wanted to hold back, when I wanted to go forward, when I would beg him to let me go forward.
'Yes, I enjoy it.'