Don't Adjust Your Skirt

A true account of a long ago moment of naughtiness and semi-public punishment.

I woke up feeling a little more sexy than usual, it has been so hot here this summer, perfect tank top and skirt weather. I have rarely has a moment outside of my sandles and now that Michael and I are together, I rarely spend a moment in my underwear. But today I wanted to wear something different, it was supposed to be a little cooler and I knew I would be seeing Michael after work.

I got up and readied myself in the usual way before I see him. Going into the shower, shaving my pussy so it is nice and smooth when he reaches down to slide his fingers inside me, or maybe run his tongue over it if I am lucky. Then drying my hair, always leaving it down now, so it falls down my back. I am finally starting to get used to it. The heavy, hot feeling of it on my neck. It is a constant reminder than I am doing his bidding. And then I stand at the mirror and apply my make-up...ever so carefully. I watch as my face goes from somewhat plain...into something almost artistic. As my imperfections are smoothed away, as my cheeks take on a pinkened hue, as my eyes become accentuated in a brown frame of soft colors that seem natural around the usual blue-grey of my eyes. And then my lips become something foreign to me...as they take on a deep shade of red, pink, or brown...depending on my mood...today it was a deep shade of pink. I have always felt as though lipstick made me look unnatural, bizarre, a stranger to myself in the mirror...but now, when I look up and see the final refection in the mirror, I feel wildly sexy and alive. I imagine his approving look upon seeing me and smile at myself in the mirror.

I decide today that I will wear heels...as opposed to sandles. I begin raiding my lingerie drawer for my thigh highs, long ago abandoned to the bare legs of summer. To my disappointment, I find that the only two without run's in them don't match! So, I decide I will stop at the store before I go to work. I put my skirt on, a nice little tan kakhi that zips up the front, I decide that it will be cool enough for me to wear a little sweater I have had for a long time but never worn. It is a grey short sleeve turtle neck sweater, a white panel of fabric encircles my breasts but the rest of the material is a soft grey...it feels very nice to the touch and I take the occasional indulgent caress of my breasts through the material. I go to the store and find my favorite thigh highs, a nude lace topped type that stays up without too much trouble. I pay for them and decide not to wait until I get to work to put them on.

I slide the seat back in my car, remove the sandles I wore into the store, and begin sliding the silky hose up my left leg first...as I begin moving farther up my thigh, wondering if anyone is watching. I look around but don't see anyone...so I reach down to the bottom, taking up any slack, and then pulling them up to the top of my thigh, lifting my ass off the seat so I can slide my skirt up around my waist and get them up as high as they will go. Then the right leg...sliding it over my painted toes and up past my knee...raising up off the seat again to get it adjusted to the same height as the other. And then again, taking up the slack. I readjust my skirt, slide on the black pumps I had on stand by, feeling naughty and full of desire. It is going to be a long day waiting to be with Michael if I am already so excited and wanton.

I go to work and begin the wait. Working at my desk, trying to maintain my focus on my tasks...but finding my mind constantly wandering to what he and I may do. Will he take me as I walk in the door, as he has in the past? Will he wait until I follow him into his room and then turn on me like an animal...begin biting my shoulder and yanking my neck back, kissing me hard and then throwing me down on the bed?

That is one of the most wonderful things about finding Michael...I never know. We are so similar and all of our fantasies are open territory...it would take two lifetimes to explore every single one of the possibilites...and of course you want to try the ones you like more than once. So I sit at work, constantly guessing. Thinking of what we have done, what we have talked of doing, of what I imagine he can come up with on his own. I decide I can't take it any longer...the wetness between my legs has been growing all morning. I retreat into the ladies room and begin rubbing my clitoris. Thinking about Michael taking me by the hair and pressing his mouth down on mine...sliding his hand between my legs and running his hand up to my pussy. Feeling him slide his fingers inside me, going right to my g-spot and rubbing it hard and fast...the way he knows I love it. And then pushing me down to take his cock in my mouth. I would eagerly lick and suck on his cock...enjoying every moment of it, knowing at any time he may pull me up and throw me over his couch...taking me from behind. Fucking me like the little slut he knows I am. And then, after he shoots his cum deep inside of me...he would take me by the hair again and order me to clean his cock. As I imagine the intense pleasure of such a scene, the waves of pleasure wash over me...my pussy now drenched in wetness and excitement. As a moan softly escapes my lips and echo's in the secluded restroom. I feel a little better, a little more able to focus. I soak up some of the moisture from between my legs...leaving just enough to serve as a reminder of my indulgence.

I return to work and am able to remain productive through the afternoon until it is time to leave. I drive over to Michael's at an excited pace. Luckily he is close to my work and I am able to get there quickly. He is there to greet me and gives me a soft kiss on my mouth as I walk through the door. He tells me how nice I look, which always makes me feel so wonderful inside. We still have some time before our movie starts but he has to take a shower. So, I play on his computer and wait patiently. By the time he is done, it is time to go, as it is we will be late. We drive to the theater...we wanted to see Frequency at the 3 plex. As we are driving over, he places his hand on my knee and realizes that I am wearing hose...as he runs his hand up, he begins purring how sexy he finds thigh highs...how much it turns him on. He rubs all over my thighs and I part my legs so he can caress my pussy as well. I can tell he is very turned on by the little discovery. And I am glad I have pleased him so much. As we get to the theater, I get out of the car and he takes my hand. I let go for a minute to adjust my skirt, all day it has been climbing up my hips and shifting to the side a little, I don't know if it is because of the thigh highs or what, I don't recall it doing it in the past, but it bothers me, and I straighten it out and pull it down where it belongs. I take his hand again, but as we round the corner of the building, I straighten it again, all of a sudden it seems to be fighting to stay in place more than ever, as if it were trying to remove itself from my body. I flatten it again and take his hand...but as I take a few more steps, I have the urge to straighten again...and I let go of his hand. As I take his hand again, he tells me in the tone I know only too well, that I "will not" touch my skirt again. I try to explain to him that it drives me nuts and that I can't stand the feeling of it sliding up my hips. But he says he doesn't care. I am not to touch it. (Later he explained it actually looked better riding high up on my hips, showing off my ass.) But as we approach the doors it is hopelessly out of place again...and I can't stand it, even knowing his command and hearing the tone with which he gave it, as he paid for the movie, I adjusted my skirt again.

He didn't seem that angry, he gave me a shocked smile...I could see the disbelief mixed with disappointment at my blatent disobedience. I knew by that looked I was in trouble and I acknowledged that. As it is I have several punishments piled against me that will be worked out in my training no doubt. Maybe part of me felt "What's one more". He did seem disappointed though, and that made me feel sorry that I had disobeyed. It was such a direct request and I KNEW he was serious. And yet something in me didn't get it.

As we walked through the lobby into the theater, we could tell the movie had already started, there was a dark hush through the rows of seats I could barely make out, my eyes were still adjusting. We stood in the entry way, just inside the door of out theater it was lit by a soft orangish light which cast an odd glow over the minty green walls. As I struggled to adjust and search for a good seat, he pushed me up against the wall of the entry way and whispered in my ear. "You have been a very bad girl." I could see into the theater a little, though my eyes still hadn't fully adjusted. I could see someone in a white shirt sitting on the left in the back...not far from the entry way where my hands were now pressed up against the wall, my ass pressing out toward a creative and disappointed Master. He didn't hesitate, began raising my skirt over my ass...of course I wasn't wearing any panties and I was frantically trying to see if the people on the right were watching...as my Master brought his hand down on my ass. It wasn't that hard but it still made a sound that I am sure was heard by some in the theater. I frantically pulled my skirt down, he took my hand, and walked me to the front where we always sit.

Again, my Master demonstrated to me that punishment comes in many forms and he always chooses something that will push me to a limit, will show me that the boundries WILL be pushed and that there are consequences for disobeying. As a slave in training, I am finding I still have a lot to learn...my most recent lesson being, don't adjust that skirt :o)