Dinner in Chicago Pt. 03

We exit the car, enter the hotel lobby and walk toward the bar.

"Get us a couple of spots at the bar, pet" you tell me. "I'm going to visit the ladies' room."

The bar is only semi-crowded, so I easily find two adjacent stools. I suck in my breath as I sit uncomfortably, the unforgiving butt plug reminding me of its presence as I settle my weight on the bar stool. Not sure what you might want to drink, I defer the bartender's question and scan the patrons.

The bar seems to draw an attractive, but eclectic crowd. Urban professionals - classy, but nonetheless a meat market.

A few minutes later, you stride into the bar with confidence, and I notice the not-so-subtle gazes you attract. They admire the dress that hugs your curves, and the features that it reveals - your toned legs, your strong arms, and the defined features about your head and neck. You've worked hard to achieve your level of fitness, and the result is impressive. Some might be intimidated by you, but those who are simply aren't worth your time.

I'm a bit shocked as you walk past the vacant stool beside me, and settle instead on one a little further down the bar. I start to stand up from my stool to follow you, but my phone buzzes and I see your text:

[Stay, pet]

I swallow hard, glance in your direction, and see that grin, that tilt of your head. I've no doubt that the next phase of the evening will prove uncomfortable for me, but I'm powerless to resist. I settle back onto the stool as easily as I can, the butt plug and cock cage reminding me of who is in charge.

Your intricate tattoo sleeves never fail as an icebreaker, and it's not long before you draw a small crowd of curious onlookers, both male and female. You entertain their questions with grace, tolerating the ignorant ones ("Why did you want to do that?") and indulging the more serious ones ("Wow - what do you have planned next?"). Most of the women around you seem a bit insecure as they hold their own dates a little closer, intimidated by the aura you exude and its obvious effects on their male partners. A couple of men who are on their own actively vie for your attention, and you string them along, identifying no obvious favorites. You spread your legs slightly as you sit on the stool, revealing subtly that you are wearing no panties. Was this for my benefit? Those standing around you are no doubt too close to see, but it was obvious to me from several feet down the bar.

A drink appears in your hand, and you sip it with appreciation, smiling coyly as you do. It wasn't from me - which of your suitors bought it for you? You still deftly avoid picking a favorite, toying with all of them as you enjoy the hunt.

I catch the bartender's eye, order a drink, and turn my attention to the TVs behind the bar. Over time, the crowd around you thins a bit, and the women succeed in dragging their partners away from you, hinting at the lectures each will receive later for succumbing even slightly to your charms.

Only two men remain, and you flirt with them mercilessly, playing them off against each other, before ultimately dismissing them both abruptly. Puzzled at your seemingly sudden change of heart and not realizing that they never really stood a chance, they collect their drinks, tuck their tails between their legs, and wander away from the bar, searching for less discerning companions.

I start to rise from the stool, again to join you where you sit. But again, my phone buzzes and I see your text:

[Stay, pet]

I look over at you, confused. You reveal nothing other than the tilt of your head and that grin that melts me.

Unexpectedly, a woman sits down on the still vacant barstool beside me. I hadn't even noticed her come in, fixed as I was on the dance you were orchestrating at the end of the bar. I smile politely, and she reaches out to touch my arm gently.

"Hi," she says. "I'm Lisa. Is this seat taken?" She must have considered it a rhetorical question, since she asked it only after sitting down.

"Um, well," I stutter, looking over at you. To my surprise, you raise your eyebrows and smile. You don't seem threatened - likely because you know you shouldn't be. You turn to your phone, and few seconds later, mine buzzes with your text:

[Well - looks like pet is as player. This might be fun.]

My only desire is to take you back to our hotel room and make love to you, but the evening is clearly still young for you, and the game is on.

"Are you in town for business or pleasure?" Lisa asks, trying to draw my gaze back to her.

"Pleasure, apparently," I reply.

My phone buzzes:

[Don't be rude. Buy her a drink!]

My eyes widen as I glance at you. You smile calmly and nod. What is this game that you're playing?

"Can I, um, buy you a drink?" I ask, hesitantly.

"Sure," Lisa responds. "But don't assume I'm easy. That will take at least two drinks," she says with a wink.

Lisa proves a pleasant, if somewhat naïve woman. I politely make small talk, offering vague, noncommittal responses to her questions. My eyes continue to dart over to you, expecting anger, but I see only amusement. You don't feel threatened by this woman, but rather seem entertained by watching me fumble my responses, not knowing what you expect of me.

[She seems quite enamored with you, pet] your text appears. [Be polite to her]

By the end of her second drink, Lisa seems a bit unstable on the stool. She's giggling more than the conversation merits, and she begins to reach frequently to caress my arm, holding my gaze as she does. I must look like a deer caught in the glare of headlights, frozen by your complete lack of jealousy or anger. I am completely stumped about why you seem to want me to continue this engagement.

Lisa orders her own third drink, telling the bartender to put it on my tab. "I think he's trying to get me drunk," she tells her with a slow wink.

Lisa falters a bit as she stands from her stool and presses herself closer to me. She wraps her left arm around my waist and begins caressing my knee with her right, slowing working her way up my inner thigh.

And then it hits me: the cock cage! I understand completely how you're toying with me now. You've been setting me up for this. This woman is bound to feel the cage under my pants. What will I do? Can I discourage her attention now? I look over to you in panic, only to see that grin and that tilt of your head. You've been wondering when I would figure it out, and are now entertained as it all becomes painfully apparent to me.

Just then, Lisa turns toward me, tilts her head back and invites me in for a kiss, just as your hand slides the rest of the way up my thigh. I start and she reaches the cage, obviously puzzled by its feel. She pulls back in shock and looks at me, a dozen unasked questions on her face.

"I, um..." I stutter. What do I say? How do I explain? Can I salvage my dignity? Can I at least avoid a scene?

"I'm owned," I finish, hoping that the simple explanation is all that will be required.

"What do you mean?" she asks, puzzled.

"My penis," I reply. "It's locked up. And my girlfriend holds the key."

"Are you kidding me?" she asks, more loudly than I would like.

"No, he's not," you say, sharply. I hadn't even noticed you approaching. "Time to run along, little girl. He's mine. Isn't that right, pet?"

"Yes. Yes it is," I reply, meekly, and yet relieved to be once again clearly in your control...