Stephanie's Submission

Stephanie's Submission

Part 1 – The Restaurant

By Rilawild

Stephanie was nervous as she walked down the street towards the restaurant. It was early, she'd just left work, and she knew that the restaurant would not be full at this time of day. Her anticipation was tempered by her nervousness at the thought of what she was to do. Her on-line ‘master' had ordered her go to a restaurant, have a meal and at some point, she must go to the ladies room, remove her panties and fasten them around her wrist. They must remain in plain sight until she had left the restaurant, and most importantly of all she should allow a waiter or waitress to see them. Those simple and deliciously naughty instructions had consumed all of her thoughts during the day.

The restaurant that she'd chosen was in a different neighbourhood from her office so she thought that it should be fairly safe; she'd eaten there once or twice before and she knew the layout. She rounded the corner and the restaurant was only a few hundred feet away now and she was getting very nervous about what she was planning to do. The embarrassment that she knew she would suffer had fuelled her daydream fantasies all day. Then, she'd felt that she was unable to wait, but now she felt different. Now that the moment was upon her, she wasn't sure that she could go through with it. Deep inside though, she knew that she had to obey her commands.

She was now outside the restaurant and turned to look in the window. There were more people inside than she'd anticipated and her doubts blossomed into outright fear. ‘I can't do this. It's just too much to ask,' she thought. She had to get away. Across the street was a small park and she walked quickly away from the restaurant, each step taking her further and further away from her fate and bringing relief from the fear churning in her stomach.

There was a bench by the path. Sitting down, Stephanie sighed and dropped her head into her hands. ‘I'm a failure. I can't follow even the most simple instruction. I'm not worthy to be anyone's submissive slave.' She cried for a few minutes but eventually wiped her eyes.

The sun was getting low on the horizon. A few people walked along the street, passing the restaurant that she'd eschewed. She wasn't sure what to do, but as she calmed down she began to think about the wonderful feelings that she'd had all day as she anticipated her humiliation. Her arousal began to return and she thought over all the naughty thoughts that had run through her mind as she sat in her office through the endless hours of the work day. Those hours had ended though and now she was here. The restaurant's windows beckoned to her, she could feel them like eyes watching her. They could see that she was just a slut, that she had no power over her actions and they could no doubt tell that her pussy was becoming damp even as she sat there on the bench.

Remembering her few on-line training sessions, Stephanie reached down and flipped up the back of her skirt, pressing her bare thighs down on the slats of bench. Somehow this act of submission made her feel much better. She began to realise that she could still go ahead, that she hadn't yet failed her assignment, that she could still redeem herself. At last she stood once more, smoothed her short skirt down her legs and began back along the path to the street her resolve firm once more. She was ready. ‘I want to do this.' She would prove something to herself.

And then her resolve crumbled once more. Standing at the restaurant door was a familiar figure. It was a woman from her office: Samantha, her boss, and her husband. Stephanie was crushed when she saw the couple enter the restaurant. ‘Oh my god, oh my god. I can't go though with it now, not with Samantha there.' She almost panicked, it would be humiliating enough for strangers to notice her slutty behaviour, but her embarrassment would soar to new heights if someone she knew, someone from her vanilla life, someone who held her job in her hands, saw her. ‘How can I do it now?'

She walked back to her bench and set herself down once more, this time flipping her skirt back without a second thought. Again this act of submission powered her feelings. She wanted to be humiliated, she wanted to be a good slut! This time it took her half an hour to rebuild her courage and she stood once more. As she walked back through the park, she realised that the sun had fallen behind the buildings and the streetlights were beginning to come on.

With the sun setting, the lights of the restaurant cast a light across the street; the diners inside were clearly visible to passers-by, enjoying their evening meal. She was still hesitant as she pulled open the door and stepped inside.

Stephanie stood just inside shyly waiting for the maître d' to come and offer her a table. She felt that everyone was looking at her, that they could see inside her soul and knew the “dirty deed” that she intended. That just caused her to feel embarrassed again, and that in turn made her feel more self-conscious of the people glancing at her. She could feel her nipples were hard beneath her blouse and was glad that her light summer coat covered her, but knew that soon that protection would be taken from her.

The maître d' finally came, and directed her to a table by the window. It was positioned so that everyone passing by could see her and such that many of the customers inside could see her. It wasn't really what she wanted, she was desperate to remain hidden and unnoticed. She could understand why this table was chosen though; having an attractive young woman visible might well attract more custom to the restaurant – the last thing that she wanted. She wanted all the customers to hurry up and leave.

Luckily, the table was positioned so that there was no-one behind her, and as she carefully sat she flipped her skirt up so that it was not beneath her. Her initial training was beginning to show through even in this stressful situation. Her bare bum and panty-clad pussy were in contact with the cool material of the chair and a thrill of excitement ran through her – it felt much better than the hard wooden bench she'd sat on earlier.

With her coat removed, she was definitely conscious of her swollen nipples, and blushed deeply as she realised that the maître d' was looking her over, as if appraising her. It might have been her imagination, or perhaps deep down her desire that that she be displayed and appraised. She hoped that he hadn't noticed how she'd arranged her skirt. ‘Is that a knowing smile, has he recognised me for what I really am, or is it just the innocent smile of good service?'

Across the restaurant, she could she see that Samantha and her husband were eating their dinner. She almost decided to forget about her task once more, just have a meal, and later accept the punishment. As her pussy throbbed in her dampening panties though she knew that she'd still go through with it, that she had to go through with it.

She considered that she could go to a different restaurant and start again, but she was seated now and there was no chance to leave and go elsewhere, especially not without Samantha seeing and questioning her the next day. She clutched the menu, frightened and nervous. She'd never done anything like this before and her heart was pounding. Her nipples were still betraying her and she knew that her panties were getting damper by the minute – which was of course the last thing that she wanted given what she was going to do with them, but it was unavoidable in the circumstances. The more she thought about the humiliation and embarrassment she'd suffer the more it excited her and the more it made her panties wet, and hence the more obvious it would be when she performed later, and that just started the cycle of embarrassment again.

At last, a waiter came to her table and greeted her. He told her the specials for the day, but she was having difficulty concentrating, and ordered a simple salad and glass of wine – she felt that she needed the Dutch courage to bolster her resolve. She didn't really have an appetite, but of course had to order something.

She saw that the man at the next table was watching her, ignoring his own dinner date, and she realised that she was beginning to squirm in her seat, feeling the texture of the chair on her bottom and unconsciously rubbing her aroused pussy into the cushion. ‘Does he know what I was doing? Can he tell what I'm thinking? Does he know that I'm intensely aroused? Or is he just looking at a pretty girl fidgeting as she waits for her meal to arrive?' It took a major effort on her part of keep still after that, though she couldn't stop her hands toying with her napkin.

After this, she was convinced that everyone was watching her, discussing her behaviour, and that every laugh from the diners was at her expense. Deep down she knew that this was nonsense, but she couldn't shake the feeling.

Across the restaurant, Samantha and her husband stood from their table and began to leave. ‘There is a God!' she thought and her relief was palpable, though after a few moments she realised that she'd almost wanted Samantha to stay. She wasn't sure whether it was so that she had an excuse not go on, or was it so that it would be even more embarrassing than she'd originally thought.

Samantha's husband started chatting with the waiter, and then Samantha noticed her sitting by the window. Stephanie wanted to shrink away and hide, she wanted to keep her vanilla life separate from her slutty one, but it was impossible now. Samantha wandered over and started making small talk about how nice the restaurant was, that she hadn't realised that she lived nearby and a hundred and one other trivial conversation points. She didn't seem to notice how preoccupied the seated woman was. Since her meal hadn't arrived yet, there wasn't anything Stephanie could do to dissuade her work colleague. She just wished that Samantha would leave her alone. What's more, some of the people nearby had begun to watch them, drawn in by Samantha's loud voice – they would be glaring at her soon and of course would keep on watching her throughout the evening.

Then Samantha's husband called across to her that he was ready, and as she was leaving, Samantha reminded Stephanie about a barbecue at her house the next Sunday. Trapped, she could hardly decline and found herself shyly accepting the invitation.

Almost as soon as Samantha was out of the door, her salad arrived and she realised that she was one step closer to the moment. She couldn't bring herself to enjoy the food, she was too excited at the prospect of her forthcoming humiliating. She could feel her moisture in her panties and knew that her clit was hard and pushing against the tight damp material. She so wanted to slide her hand down between her legs, but she couldn't: firstly because she knew that she wouldn't be able to stop if she did and everyone would see her shame as she had a “When Harry met Sally” moment; and secondly because she'd been explicitly forbidden from masturbating until she was in the ladies room.

She gulped down the last of her wine and pushed her half eaten salad away from her. She felt that she could wait no longer, but she couldn't do it yet. She'd need to pay for her meal first, otherwise she'd be sitting in the restaurant with her wet panties around her wrist for much more time than she could possibly stand.

She asked for the check as soon as she could. She felt that she was on the edge of a precipice ready to plunge down; she knew that once she took this step it would be one of no return. Her mind was spinning with the possibilities of what she was about to do. Would she be detained and handed over to the cops for lewd behaviour? Would the waiter force her into the kitchen and fuck her? Would they all laugh at her? Would she be thrown out onto the streets, or worse, stripped and then thrown out onto the streets?

Now was the moment! She would go now and hope that the check was waiting for her on her return so that she could pay and leave immediately.

On unsteady legs she walked the long walk through the restaurant to the restrooms, ‘Just my luck that they put me a the table the furthest from them' she thought.

The small ladies' room was tastefully decorated, but she didn't noticed. She was almost in a trance now as she locked herself in the stall. She'd been ordered that she'd have to remove all of her outer clothes first and only then was she to remove her panties; and so feeling an increasing level of excitement she began to unbutton her blouse. She was eager now, her fingers worked quickly at the buttons, a little too quickly perhaps for she found it difficult to co-ordinate her hands. She was shaking slightly and couldn't order her hands to do what she wanted, but eventually all the buttons were undone. She wondered, ‘had he realised that I'd be in this state when he ordered me to do this task?'

Her skirt was much easier to remove, and soon she was standing in just her soaking wet panties. She could feel them clinging tightly to her cunt, the air in the restroom causing the wet material to cool and adding a contrast with her burning hot pussy.

She now had to perform the next act of her humiliation. She was to masturbate in her panties until she was so close to cumming that it would hurt to stop. She knew that this would make her already wet panties dripping wet and result in her ultimate humiliation later. As she slid her fingers over the soaking material she let out a moan. ‘I hope that no-one comes in' . That thought drove her to even more furious rubbing as she got into her rhythm. She was so excited now that she knew that she couldn't last very long, and indeed it was only a few moments before she had to stop and just hold her hand against herself to prevent from falling over the edge into the orgasm that she desperately wanted, needed.

Coming down slowly from her high, she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and began to slide them down. She wanted to prolong the moment and feel the sensuous material slip against her skin. The soaking crotch panel stuck against her needy cunt for a few moments as the material began to drag against it deliciously, sending a thrill through her as it slid across her exposed clitoris. Then it was free and sliding down her legs.

The moment was almost upon her now and she placed her wet panties in her mouth as she'd been instructed to do before she was allowed to get dressed again. She quickly stepped back in her skirt, which now felt far too short to be wearing without panties, and slid into her blouse. Finally, when she was dressed she took the dirty underwear out of her mouth leaving the familiar taste of herself on her tongue and wrapped them around her left wrist, twisting and doubling them over a couple of times so that they'd be held in place by the elastic. “Perhaps they'll look like a scrunchy” she murmured to herself. She realised though that even twisted around her wrist they stilled looked like panties, their lace edging and of course the dark spreading stain of her juices giving it away.

She wondered if she could stay there all night, until the last customer had left; however, she knew that they'd come looking for her sooner or later – she hadn't paid for her meal yet and they'd want to make sure she hadn't run off.

So with her juices, no longer confined within her underwear, beginning to drip down her legs, she unlocked the stall door and made her way out of the restroom. It took her a moment to get the courage to step back in the restaurant proper.

It wasn't the panties that drew the attention of the diners, it was the nervous and embarrassed way that she walked, and it was her bright red complexion of embarrassment and humiliation that kept them looking. She was her own worst enemy at that moment, and before long almost everyone who might see her was seeing her. She was doing her best to hide her left wrist, but in doing so she drew the attention of everyone.

She heard a few muttered comments, but at least no-one stood up and grabbed her or even challenged her. She knew though that those nearest to her path through the restaurant must know what was wrapped around her wrist. ‘Can they smell my juices? Can they see how wet the material is?' She knew that her nipples were clear signals of her aroused state, but she worried that her strong smell was clearly noticeable as well. The walk back to her table seemed at least twice as long as it had on her way to the ladies' room. She knew that she was making a spectacle of herself and she knew that she loved every moment of it.

Back at her table, she didn't dare sit down again – there was no doubt that everyone would see her flip her skirt, for everyone was still watching her intensely. She began fumbling with her money, paying for her meal; and at that moment the waiter came over to clear the last of her dishes away. He had a large grin on his face as he looked at her, looking her up and down and especially at her wrist. She felt herself blush even more deeply, more deeply than she thought possible. It was clear that he knew what she'd done.

As she rushed to pick up her things he spoke in a low voice to her, “I love your wet panties. I hope to see you not wearing them again on Sunday at Samantha and Ben's barbecue.”

Stephanie almost ran from restaurant!