Stepping out of the hair salon, Victoria saw a beaming Samantha waiting for her a little way across the mall floor. “I’m sorry, I was looking for my girlfriend,” she called out in mock bafflement, “but I seem to have found a Milan catwalk model!”

Victoria giggled. “You like it, then?”

“You look stunning,” Samantha assured her, still standing a few feet away. Before Victoria could respond, she turned to walk away and held out her hand behind her. Struck by a sudden wave of meekness, Vicky scurried after her and took her hand. As soon as she did so, warmth embraced her like a blanket, making her feel safe and comfy, but still very weak and vulnerable.

I need to hold my Master’s hand, she told herself. I’m lost and helpless without her. She grinned ruefully, well aware that this was a trigger (one that had been used many times in recent days) but feeling not the faintest impulse to resist it. Instead, she let her owner lead her through the busy shopping mall, heedless of the direction she was taking her, leaning against her for support and comfort. The casual public display of their dynamic was quickly arousing her - she felt exposed, even though no-one was paying them any attention.

“I did love your long hair,” Samantha remarked, casually reaching across and taking Vicky’s purse from her other hand. “It was so soft, so nice to pet, and run my fingers through... and pull.” She grinned naughtily. “But I really like the new do. It’s gorgeous.”

Vicky grinned feebly. “Thank you,” she mumbled gratefully, managing not to add ‘Master’ (although she was sure her submissive tone said it without saying it). “It’s practical, too, with the new job.”

“Yeah,” Samantha chuckled, “no-one likes hair in their food. Including me, even if it’s yours.”

After years drifting from one underpaid waitress job to another, Victoria had finally got a full-time position as a restaurant chef. She hadn’t technically needed to get a permanent job - they weren’t overflowing with wealth, but Samantha had enough family money to subsidise what she earned from teaching and what Vicky earned from waitressing. But frankly, Victoria liked to cook. She’d had to cook for her younger brother throughout her teen years, and she’d grown to enjoy challenging herself with complex dishes. She’d prepared a meal for Samantha and her family a few months ago, and Samantha’s father had been the one who suggested she consider a career as a chef. He’d even got in touch with some restaurant managers he knew, one of whom contacted her when they had an opening in their kitchen.

Her ‘audition meal’ of chicken marsala had impressed the head chef enough to get her the job, and she was due to start in two days. Though she hadn’t been explicitly told to trim her hair, she’d thought it would be sensible. And besides, she’d wanted a new haircut for a while now. So - with Samantha’s permission, of course - she’d had her long blonde mane cut into a short bob that only just made it past her ears.

Victoria made an effort to focus amidst the cushion of warm submission enveloping her. She had another task while they were at the mall - one she was rather keen to complete. It was difficult in such a busy enviroment, with so many people around - realistically, her best option was to find a bathroom or changing room. She’d hoped to do it at the salon, but they didn’t have a bathroom there, since there were public loos across the mall floor from them. And Samantha had led her far away from those by now.

Their next port of call was a clothes store, where Vicky immediately made for the changing rooms, only to find all the cubicles were occupied. She tried to linger nearby so she could jump in the second there was one available, but she naturally found herself looking for her Master, only to see her hand outstretched behind her, compelling her to cross the store as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself and take her hand. This happened a few times, persistently thwarting her efforts to sneak out of view.

Finally, they visited the food court. Vicky bit her lip anxiously - this was their last stop before they returned home. If she didn’t complete the task her Master had given her, she wouldn’t be allowed to cum all night long. And she was fairly certain Samantha had some sexy plans in mind. As they descended the escalator, Vicky leaned close to her domme and said quietly, “Please can I go to the bathroom?”

Samantha raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly. She knew that if Vicky really needed to use the facilities, she could, without asking. That was a rule they’d set - in the event that she needed the bathroom, Vicky would be free of any suggestions or conditioning working on her, at least until she was done. (This applied to Samantha when she was hypnotised, too.) So if she was asking, she didn’t actually need to go - and Samantha could refuse to let her.

But she was clearly feeling merciful - or maybe she just wanted to give her pet a fair chance. “You may, sweetie,” she replied, kissing her on the cheek.

While Samantha went to order burgers for them both, Vicky darted off to the bathroom, and was immensely grateful to find an empty stall. Locking herself inside, she sat on the toilet and slid her pants down, followed by her panties. Clutching the flimsy pink material in one hand, she pulled her jeans back up over her bare nether regions. The degrading task already had her cunt drooling - if she hadn’t felt it from the source, she’d have been able to tell from the moisture on her removed underwear.

Oh well, at least she was wearing pants. She’d talked Samantha out of making her wear something more revealing - as thrilling as they both found the thought of her publicly going commando under a dress or skirt, they’d agreed it was a bridge too far. So Samantha had instead dressed her in a floral blouse and skinny jeans.

Standing up, she gazed at the panties in her hand and sighed, her usual hopelessly flustered smile spreading across her face. That was part one of her task completed. “While we’re at the mall, take your panties off and find a way to give them to me,” Samantha had instructed her before they’d left their apartment. All that remained now was to get the underwear to her. She’d have to be subtle about it, but she was sure that once they were both sitting down in the food court it would be fairly easy to sneak them under the table.

Folding up the panties, Victoria went to shove them into her pocket, but missed the entrance. She tried again, and then again. No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t get the panties into her pocket - it was like she couldn’t figure out how.

Just as she realised that this was almost certainly Samantha’s doing, a fragment of memory re-entered her brain. As they’d been about to leave their apartment, Samantha had put out her hand, Vicky had dutifully taken it, and Samantha had tugged her arm and dropped her into trance. Her forehead resting on her Master’s shoulder, her noodley legs nonetheless just about keeping her standing with her hypno-domme’s support, she’d clearly heard the suggestion, “You won’t realise this until you try, but you can’t put your panties in your pocket - it’s simply impossible.” Samantha had chuckled lightly. “Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?” Then she’d awakened Vicky, leaving her with no recollection of anything after she’d held her hand.

Too easy? Victoria practically screamed inside her head, only outwardly expressed by a small, indignant squeak. She’s making this as difficult as she possibly can! How am I supposed to get them to her now?! Though she hadn’t even thought about it at the time - it had just been another show of dominance over her - she now realised this was why Samantha had taken her purse from her after she’d left the salon, to leave her with absolutely no receptacle in which to carry the panties. She certainly couldn’t just hold them in her hand!

A bing sound from her phone alerted her to a text from Samantha: Hurry back, slave. My hand is out for you. Vicky gulped, already feeling the compulsion to return to her Master. Her feet were inching towards the stall door. But she still hadn’t found anywhere for the panties... She whimpered as her free hand reached for the door. Acting decisively, not giving herself time to reconsider, she stuffed the panties into her mouth.

As she walked back out into the food court, Vicky imagined eyes watching her from every direction. She knew only someone near to her would probably be able to tell her mouth was full, and even then, no-one could tell what it was full of. Anyone who paid her any mind at all would probably assume it was food, given where she was. But that didn’t stop a part of her feeling like everyone was looking, everyone could tell, everyone knew she had her own panties wadded up in her mouth and could taste her own cunt on her tongue. She was being publicly humiliated, in her own paranoid imagination if not in reality.

And fuck, it was turning her on.

Samantha was sitting in a booth, giggling at Vicky as she sat down next to her. “Rude to start eating before me, sweetie,” she teased.

Unwilling to risk making the slightest sound, for fear of parting her lips just enough to reveal a flash of pink fabric to any passer-by, Victoria just rolled her eyes. Glancing down, she saw Samantha’s bag on the floor between her feet. Feigning a coughing fit, she leaned down, opened her mouth, and dropped the sodden panties into the bag.

As she straightened up, Samantha put an arm around her back and gave her a congratulatory cuddle. “Well done,” she said quietly. “You did it!”

“You’re an asshole,” Victoria muttered, smirking.

“Yep. And you’re the dumb little hypno-bitch who let me enslave you,” Samantha sniggered.

“Grumble grumble grumble, et cetera.”

“What are you, Vicky?”

“A dumb little hypno-bitch. Your slave.” Vicky looked down at the table shyly. “Your pet.”

“Good girl.” Samantha glanced across the restaurant at the sound of a cook shouting an order number. “That’s ours. Go and get it, please.”

“Yes,” Vicky said, the unspoken ‘Master’ even more evident than before, biting her lip as she slid out of the booth and stood up, feeling her jeans rub against her bare crotch. I’m a good girl, she thought proudly, as she went to fetch her and Samantha’s food.