Another First Taste of Submission

Starbucks is crowded. It's a busy Monday afternoon and it seems that everyone has decided to have a coffee at the same time...students, tourists, nearby shop workers...us.

We find a table for two. Bad Boy moves his chair so that he's sitting next to me, thrusts his hand under the table, parts my legs and start pressing on the seam of my jeans, just between my legs.

He's telling me about what's going on with some job or other. I'm not listening. I've zoned out. He can go on for hours like this and I'm really not that interested. What concerns me more is what his finger, and its very gentle pressure, is doing to me.

The red-haired woman on the couch has spotted us and she's smiling to herself, looking slightly red faced and turning back to her magazine before she can catch my eye.

I bring my attention back to BadBoy. I suppose I had better make an effort to listen.

"You know, I was thinking," he muses, subtly increasing the pressure on my jeans. "that I'd quite like to kidnap you. You know...grab you from somewhere crowded like this, take you in broad daylight, blindfold you and take you somewhere you don't know..."

I look down at the sugar tumbling from the packet I didn't realise I was tearing. He takes a deep breath and continues.

"I'd quite like to tie you up too, maybe with your own stockings...no, duct tape that's more what I need. I want to bind you with duct tape. And then...and then I'd quite like to do what I want with you."

"Oh," I breathe out.
"If that's alright with you?" he adds.