"Show me." There's something about the command that makes Jane feel so deliciously slutty; Dominic knows full well that for all the relative seclusion of the quiet alcove, the setting is still far too public for her to risk any kind of really exhibitionistic display. If she wants to follow his command--and after over a year of willingly submitting to his deep hypnotic conditioning, 'want' barely even enters into it anymore--she's going to have to tug her panties over to one side like a horny bitch too impatient to put her legs together long enough to undress herself. She's going to have to sit there, skirt flipped up, underwear hooked in her thumb, showing her messy cunt to her Master and uncomfortably aware that a stranger could walk by at any moment.

Of course she does it. She can't meet his implacable gaze, she has to stare down meekly at the shoes she shined this morning while she pulls up her skirt to her waist and her hips wriggle and squirm like a schoolgirl desperate for permission to use the restroom... but she shows him her pink satin panties. She hears him let out an almost imperceptible chuckle of approval, and instantly Jane knows she must have a visible wet spot where her arousal leaked out; it doesn't surprise her, but it heightens that hot, sticky tension that makes her face go bright red with embarrassment and her pussy throb with desire. Dominic always makes her feel this way, shy and slutty at the same time, and she can't stop loving it.

"Well?" he asks, his stern tone laced with amused flirtation, and Jane lets out a tiny whimper of excitement as she pulls her panties over to reveal her slick, puffy labia. It's all she can do not to use her free fingers to rub her pussy lips--she can still recall the way that just moments ago his hypnotic spell left her shuddering in helpless desire on the padded bench, so desperate to be fucked that she couldn't stop herself from babbling out a lustful daydream of being taken by his cock right there in the open where anyone could walk by instead of waiting until they could get back to the privacy of their hotel room. The delightful mortification she feels from being exposed like this doesn't mitigate that arousal at all. It only enhances it.

Jane keeps her head down, staring directly at the reflective surface of Dom's shoes, acutely aware of the heat radiating from her chubby cheeks. "Does it please you, Master?" she murmurs, her voice barely louder than a whisper in the quiet of the alcove. She can literally feel her pussy leaking, each tiny wet dribble of musk leaving her in erotic torment as it trickles centimeter by teasing centimeter down her sensitive skin. She knows she's going to leave a wet spot on the bench by the time they're done, and her only consolation is that she'll be able to wipe it off the waterproof vinyl with the tissues she keeps in her purse.

If Master lets her. Oh god. She'll have to ask for permission to clean it up. Even though she knows that her lover is far too conscientious to leave a mess like that behind for someone else to take care of, just the thought of having to beg him to wipe away the evidence of her arousal makes Jane gasp with sudden, aching need. And of course that only makes her cunt gush all the more. If Jane looked down, she's certain she'd see a slowly spreading puddle of musk, but embarrassment and lust have locked her gaze on the one thing that won't make things worse. She's so focused on Dominic's shoes that they've practically hypnotized her by this point.

It almost startles her when they move, as Dominic takes a step forward and places two fingers on the cleft between her soaking labia. "It pleases me very much, pet," he purrs, his voice husky with warm approval at the slick sensation under his fingertips. Jane chokes back a squeal of excitement, scarcely even daring to breathe as she feels him slide deeper into her wet pussy and churn her musk into a messy froth before pulling out. "It pleases me very much indeed." Jane can't help letting out a mewl of transparent need, but she doesn't want to beg for more. Not yet. She still wants to cling to the illusion of dignity; it makes it all the more hot when her Master finally strips it away from her.

He reaches up and puts his fingers to Jane's mouth, pressing them lightly but insistently against her lips until she feels an insistent compulsion to suck. She knows this is part of her programming, an oral fixation that makes her horny as goddamn fuck every time she feels something fill her wet suckhole, but that doesn't prevent her from bobbing her head back and forth lewdly in an eager parody of fellatio. Jane loves following her Master's suggestions. Often, she's the one who suggested them to him to suggest to her in the first place.

"That's my good girl!" he coos softly, watching her slurp the intimate flavor of her own pussy off his fingers with mindless abandon. Jane's eyelids flutter and her eyes roll back in her head; she can feel the tug of the sucktrance in the back of her mind, gently enticing her to stop thinking and let herself sink into the soothing motion of her mouth around Master's intruding digits. A few droplets of saliva drip from her chin onto her dress, and the part of her awareness that still lingers around the edges of her brain feels an even deeper, hotter mortification at the thought of walking back to their hotel room with the front of her dress soaked in drool. God, she's such a fucking slut.

But she's Master's fucking slut, and that feels better than anything Jane could ever dream of.

He reaches down with his free hand and grips her wrist, resting her palm on her pubic mound. Jane can feel slippery wetness against her skin, and she groans with the helpless, urgent need to rub her pussy. But Master's hypnotic control is so potent, his will so deep and fathomless that Jane can't even imagine surfacing from his power, and her muscles don't even deliver so much as a wayward twitch despite her desperate desire to masturbate. In public. Oh god, oh fuck, Master's reduced her to a lust-drunk slut slurping her own cunt off his fingers while she paws herself in the middle of a public place where anyone can see her, and she can't make herself stop wanting it so fucking bad.

And when he says, "You may," Jane slides two fingers into her slick pussy and grinds the heel of her hand down hard onto her clit as though the very concept of resistance had been removed from her goddamned vocabulary. She's almost grateful he's gagging her needy suckhole; Jane's pretty sure that if her mouth was open, she'd be screaming in ecstasy right about now. Not orgasm, not yet--Jane knows that she needs special permission from Master for that. But oh fucking god, every nerve in her body is tingling with lust right about now. She can't fucking think, and she doesn't really want to try anymore.

Jane has no idea how long her head bobs up and down on Master's fingers--time is a construct of the conscious mind, and she's slipped away into a pink fog of hypnotized lust without any real awareness that she was doing so. Jane's very used to that by now, though; as deeply conditioned as she is, her deep self never stops looking for invitations to drop for Dominic, and not a day goes by when she doesn't wake up from a trance she doesn't remember sinking into with a wide smile on her face and a squishy, well-used sensation in her pussy. Being a good submissive slut for Master seems to make him as horny as it does her, even if he controls it better.

Speaking of. Dominic pulls his fingers out of Jane's mouth and cups her chin, raising her head to the perfect level to focus directly on the bulge in his trousers as her eyes struggle to refocus. "My good girl is almost ready for her fucking, isn't she?" he asks, pulling down his zipper with his free hand and tugging his stiff cock out of his fly. Jane feels herself nod--her neck muscles are too loose to support anything at the moment, let alone move of their own volition, but knowing that Master is maneuvering her like a puppet only deepens the submissive ache between her thighs. She doesn't really make decisions, not anymore. And that's just how she wants it.

It makes her so wet to be manhandled into a supine position on the bench with her cunt right at the edge, feeling the slick puddle of arousal she left behind soak into her dress and leave her even more obviously a needy slut to anyone who sees her. It makes her so fucking horny to be posed like a mannequin by her Master with her legs parted, her skirt flipped back, and her fingers still tugging her panties over to the side so that he can plow her cunt. And it makes her feel so deliciously owned when he guides his cock deep into her pussy and thrusts with the urgency of a man who's held back his desires as long as he possibly can.

Jane's big tits bounce their way out of her dress under the force of his thrusts, but she doesn't see it happen; her eyes are tightly shut, the onslaught of pleasure so overwhelming that she has to hold back a squeal of orgasmic bliss as her face contorts in pure ecstasy. Jane's clit throbs with incandescent desire; she's allowed to climax without permission as long as Master's cock is inside her pussy, and as primed as she is to cum, Jane's body takes full advantage of that liberty. Her rubbing fingers feel the shaft slide past them, in and out, and she presses down even harder on her clit to make the sensations all the more intense.

Her self-control, such as it is, begins to slip; her silent screams become helpless, repetitive grunts of pleasure as she grinds herself into Master's cock with every thrust. Jane imagines a small audience gathering around them, men drawn to the scene by her hoarse moans and held rapt by the spectacle of her utter, helpless submission while Master fucks her empty mind ever deeper into his control. They'd know instantly that they were looking at a desperate, needy slut with a cunt so horny that she couldn't possibly tame it; the amused, affectionate contempt she pictures in their eyes makes Jane's pussy clench harder and harder around Master's stiff, pounding shaft until the world is one big orgasm with her at the center of it.

In her mind's eye, Jane pictures the men surrounding her, pulling out their dicks and jacking off with Master's approval until cum splashes onto her face and tits and utterly ruined dress. She fantasizes about walking back to the hotel room practically glazed in semen, unable to hide her true self from anyone who so much as glances her direction and so high on post-coital serotonin that she can't even begin to care. It's enough to draw yet another climax from her throbbing clit--Jane's lost count of how many orgasms she's had, in no small part because she's lost the ability to count at all in her lust-drunk fugue state. Her mind has crumbled away into pleasure and she doesn't know how she's ever going to get it back.

But Master does. She feels him strain hard into her soaking cunt, hears him grunt with effort, and then he's pulling out and his hands are down between her legs patting her panties back into place over her messy, creampied pussy. "That's a good girl," he murmurs, helping her back into a seated position and holding her close while she sags into his arms. "That's my good, good girl. Coming back gently now, coming back warm and happy and loved for me now on one, two, three, four, five. Wake."

Slowly Jane's eyelids flutter open. She looks around, somehow still expecting to see the men from her fantasy for a few brief moments. They were never there, of course. The drool on her dark burgundy dress is only a few little splotches, almost invisible to anyone who didn't already know they were there. The puddle of arousal she imagined soaking into the fabric is just a tiny spot, barely even noticeable. Once she puts her titties away and flips her skirt back down, she almost looks like someone who didn't just get fucked hard in a public place.

But she is. And Master knows it. "Come on, pretty pet," he says, helping her to her feet and supporting her wobbly legs so that she can head back to the elevator. "Let's go up to the room and watch a little television. We'll order pizza." Jane smiles drowsily. She already knows that she won't remember half of whatever show they choose to watch, and that it might be a couple of hours before she and Dominic get around to eating anything. But she's far from unhappy with the notion. Once they get back to the hotel room, away from any potential prying eyes, Jane's going to have the chance to really show her Master what a good girl she can be... and that's something she can never get enough of.

THE END