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Claire and Ethan visit a Restaurant#

Claire was getting ready to go out with Ethan for a Christmas dinner. She had been fussing with the delicate lace of her gloves as Ethan finished tying his watch. They were dressed for an evening out: her in a fitted deep emerald dress with a sweetheart neckline and a flared skirt that swished with every step, him in a charcoal suit that hinted at his athletic build. Her corset had taken an extra minute to lace while Ethan pulled her waist tighter.

As they prepared to leave, Claire reached for her coat, but Ethan’s voice stopped her. “Not yet,” he said. She froze, her eyes darting to his as he approached her, the glint of something familiar in his hand.

The collar.

Her breath caught. It was deceptively simple—a black lacy neckband with a base of coutil that added structure, and just the faintest hint of metal reinforcement at its clasp. To anyone else, it might look like a fashionable choker. To Claire, it was a declaration.

“Turn around,” Ethan instructed.

Claire obeyed without hesitation and lifted her hair, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the brush of his fingers against her neck as he placed the collar and tightened it. He didn’t need to say it, but she felt it the moment the clasp clicked into place: You are mine.

“You’ll behave tonight,” Ethan said, his tone casual, his hand resting a moment longer at her neck. “Won’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied softly.

He stepped back to admire his work, his gaze lingering on the way the collar framed her slender neck. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. “Good girl. Let’s go.”

The restaurant was an intimate, high-end affair, where patrons whispered over champagne flutes and polished silverware gleamed under soft chandeliers. Claire walked half a step behind Ethan as they entered, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She felt the collar snug against her throat, the pressure a constant reminder to focus on him and his hints.

Ethan guided her to their reserved table in a small niche. The maître d’ barely looked at Claire, his attention focused on Ethan. As they sat, Ethan leaned forward slightly. “You look exquisite tonight, Claire. That collar suits you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she lowered her eyes. “Thank you, Sir.”

Ethan ordered for both of them, and Claire accepted everything without question. While they waited for the meal, Claire heard the order. “Pass me your knickers,” he said, his gaze steady, unreadable. His fingers tapped lightly on the rim of his champagne flute, as if he were discussing the weather.

Her cheeks burned instantly. She parted her lips to respond, her voice trembling before she could speak. “Here?” she whispered, glancing around the elegant restaurant. Her mind spun, taking in the couples seated nearby, the discreet but attentive waitstaff, the soft clink of glasses and murmured conversation.

Ethan leaned back slightly, his presence overwhelming without being loud. “Yes. Here,” he said, his tone firm but patient, his eyes holding hers in a steady grip. “Now, Claire.”

Her stomach tightened, a rush of heat sweeping through her. She felt the collar snug against her neck, its lace brushing her skin. She couldn’t say no. She wouldn’t. The idea of defying him was unthinkable, even as her hands trembled beneath the tablecloth.

She nodded, her throat dry, and shifted slightly in her chair. Her dress swished faintly as she moved, the flared skirt thankfully providing some cover. Her shaky fingers shaky slid beneath the fabric.

The lace thong clung delicately to her hips, its elastic taut against her skin. She hesitated for the briefest second, a flush creeping down her neck. The act itself wasn’t difficult, but the fear of being seen made her pulse hammer against her ribs. She bit her lip and hooked her fingers beneath the waistband, lifting herself just enough to ease the fabric down.

Ethan said nothing, watching her with quiet intensity, his head tilted slightly as if he were studying a rare piece of art.

The fabric slid down her thighs, cool air brushing bare skin, adding to her vulnerability. She pulled the thong free, balling it in her fist as she glanced around quickly. No one seemed to notice, though her heartbeat was deafening in her ears.

“Good girl,” Ethan murmured, the praise like a spark through her chest. He extended his hand across the table, palm up, his fingers relaxed but expectant.

Claire’s hand moved on its own, driven by the deep pull of obedience. Her fingers brushed his as she passed him the delicate scrap of lace, her heart hammering so loudly she swore the entire room could hear it.

Ethan folded the thong neatly in his hand, slipping it into the pocket of his jacket with a motion so smooth it was almost dismissive. He took a sip of his champagne as if nothing had happened, his calm demeanor only amplifying her flustered state.

She pressed her thighs together under the table, the absence of fabric beneath her dress making her acutely aware of her exposed state. Ethan’s lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that made her feel seen and utterly claimed.

“Now,” he said softly, leaning forward just enough for his voice to be hers alone. “Sit still. Don’t squirm.”

Claire swallowed hard, her cheeks burning, but the thrill coursing through her veins was undeniable. She lowered her gaze, her voice barely audible as she replied, “Yes, Sir.”

Ethan’s hand moved across the table with deliberate calm, setting down a small black velvet pouch just beside Claire’s wine glass. She froze, her gaze snapping to it before flickering nervously to his face. He didn’t need to say a word; the quiet command in his eyes spoke volumes.

“Open it,” he murmured.

Her fingers hesitated, but she reached for the pouch, her movements slow and careful. Inside, her fingertips brushed cool silicone, and she knew instantly what it was. Her breath hitched as she pulled the tiny device free—a sleek, curved vibrator, shaped to nestle inside her while its outer hook would press snugly against her most sensitive spot.

Her mouth went dry. She didn’t even need to look at Ethan to know what was coming next.

“Put it in,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of an unspoken now.

Her cheeks burned a deep crimson. She shifted in her seat, leaning slightly forward as she whispered, “Here?”

“Yes,” he replied, his tone unyielding. “Here. Now.”

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she glanced around the cafe, her mind racing. The low hum of conversation filled the room, accompanied by the faint clink of cutlery against porcelain. No one was looking their way, but the possibility of discovery was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

The collar around her neck felt impossibly tight, its presence a constant reminder of who she was—and who she belonged to. She nodded, swallowing hard, and shifted slightly in her chair, her hands trembling as she slipped the device beneath the folds of her skirt.

The vibrator’s smooth surface slid easily against her, aided by the heat already pooling between her legs. She bit her lip, her thighs parting just enough to maneuver it into place. The moment it settled inside her, she felt the external hook nestle against her clit, a perfect fit.

Her breath hitched as she adjusted herself, the sensation already enough to make her pulse quicken. She glanced up at Ethan, her eyes wide and pleading, but his expression was cool and composed, as if he hadn’t just instructed her to do something so scandalous.

“Good girl,” he said softly, his voice wrapping around her like a caress. His hand slid into the pocket of his jacket, and she knew exactly what he was reaching for.

The remote.

Her heart skipped a beat as she felt the first faint buzz—a low, teasing hum that barely registered but sent a spark straight through her core. Her thighs clenched instinctively, and she gripped the edge of the tablecloth to steady herself.

“Relax,” Ethan murmured, his eyes glittering with amusement as he watched her struggle to maintain her composure. “And keep still. You wouldn’t want anyone to notice, would you?”

Claire shook her head, her voice caught somewhere in her throat. She shifted in her seat, the movement causing the device to press more firmly against her, and she had to bite her lip to stifle a gasp.

Ethan’s smile widened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing over the remote in his pocket. “That’s my girl,” he said, his tone both possessive and full of quiet pride. “You’ll sit there, perfectly composed, and you won’t let anyone suspect a thing.”

She nodded again, her cheeks burning, her breath shallow as she fought to obey. Every nerve in her body was alight, her focus entirely on the delicious torment he controlled with a flick of his finger.

During the main course, Ethan maintained a constant distraction, she could feel the buzz deeply inside her, and managed to almost ignore it, even if it kept her simmering constantly.

But from experience, Claire knew what was for dessert. Predictably, the waiter appeared at their table just as Claire was starting to find some semblance of control. She sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap to keep herself steady, while Ethan lounged in his chair, the very image of casual elegance.

“Have you decided on dessert, sir?” the waiter asked, his tone polite, his gaze fixed on Ethan.

Ethan smiled, a flicker of something mischievous passing over his face. “Not quite yet,” he said, leaning back as his fingers subtly pressed the remote in his pocket.

Claire felt it immediately—the gentle hum deep inside her shifting into a sharper, insistent pulse. Her breath hitched, and she squeezed her thighs together under the table, the movement subtle but desperate.

Ethan glanced at her then, his expression unreadable, but she could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. “What do you recommend?” he asked the waiter, gesturing toward the menu.

“Well,” the waiter began, oblivious to Claire’s plight, “our crème brûlée is quite popular, but we also have a lovely lemon tart with a shortbread crust, and a decadent chocolate fondant cake.”

The vibrator pulsed again, harder this time, its rhythm maddeningly irregular as it flickered between deep vibrations and sharp bursts against her clit. Claire bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself to stay composed.

Ethan turned to her, his smile faint. “What do you think, darling? The lemon tart sounds refreshing, doesn’t it?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide as she fought to process his words. “Uh—yes,” she stammered, her voice slightly breathless. “It does.”

The waiter nodded, ready to take the order, but Ethan raised a hand. “Hold on,” he said smoothly. “What do you think of the chocolate fondant? Is it as rich as it sounds?”

The waiter brightened, clearly delighted to discuss the menu in detail. “Oh, absolutely. It’s made with seventy-percent dark chocolate and has a molten center. Served warm with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.”

The device inside her shifted again, the pulsing intensifying until Claire had to grip the table’s edge for support. She tried to focus on the waiter’s words, nodding slightly as if she were following along, but the sensations were relentless, each vibration threatening to pull her under.

“Hmm,” Ethan mused, stroking his chin as though he were deep in thought. “Claire, you’ve always loved chocolate. Doesn’t that molten core sound tempting?”

She swallowed hard, thinking about a molten core as she forced out, “It does, yes.”

Ethan smiled at her, his gaze sharp and knowing. “You don’t sound convinced,” he said, turning back to the waiter. “What about the crème brûlée? How’s the texture on that? Some places get it wrong, you know—too thick, or not enough caramelization on top.”

The waiter nodded eagerly, launching into an explanation about the custard’s silky consistency and the perfect crack of the caramelized sugar. Claire barely heard him, every nerve in her body focused on resisting the urge to squirm or make a sound.

The vibrator’s program changed again, switching to an intense, rhythmic thrum directly on her clit. Her thighs clenched, and she dug her nails into her palms, her breathing shallow as she tried to keep her face neutral.

Ethan, ever the picture of calm, nodded thoughtfully at the waiter’s explanation. “It all sounds excellent. What do you think, Claire? Should we try the crème brûlée or indulge in the chocolate?”

Claire blinked at him, her brain foggy from the onslaught of sensations. She opened her mouth to answer, but her voice caught in her throat as another pulse hit her. “I… I think the crème brûlée,” she managed, her words barely above a whisper.

Ethan smiled, satisfied. “Excellent choice,” he said, handing the menu back to the waiter. “We’ll have that, then. Thank you.”

As the waiter left, Ethan leaned forward slightly, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “You’re doing well,” he murmured, his tone laced with approval. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how close you came to losing control.”

Claire’s cheeks burned, but the praise in his voice sent a different kind of heat rushing through her. She nodded, her breath shaky, her body still trembling from the lingering vibrations.

Ethan’s fingers brushed over the remote again, and the device suddenly went silent, leaving her body aching and hypersensitive. He sat back, his expression cool and composed, as though nothing had happened.

The crème brûlée arrived, its delicate caramelized top glistening under the soft lighting. Claire’s hands trembled slightly as she picked up her spoon, conscious of every movement under Ethan’s watchful gaze. The vibrator inside her had gone silent for now, but her body was still a live wire, every nerve on edge.

She broke the caramel crust with the edge of her spoon, the satisfying crack drawing a small, involuntary shiver through her. Scooping up a bite of the creamy custard, she brought it to her lips, eager to distract herself with the dessert’s promise of indulgence.

The moment the custard touched her tongue, Ethan pressed the remote.

The vibrator roared to life inside her, its intensity sharp and sudden, the hook grinding against her clit with maddening precision. The moan escaped her before she could stop it, a soft, breathy sound that carried far more heat than she intended. Her cheeks burned as she clamped her lips shut, trying desperately to compose herself.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable but for the slight curve at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, feigning curiosity. “Enjoying yourself, Claire?”

She glared at him, her pulse hammering in her ears, but she managed a tight nod. “It’s… it’s very good,” she stammered, her voice barely steady.

He gestured toward her plate. “Have another bite, then.”

Her fingers felt clumsy as she scooped another spoonful. She brought it to her lips, the custard melting on her tongue as another pulse hit her, this one faster, more insistent. Her thighs pressed together under the table, her breath escaping in a soft whimper.

“Are you alright, miss?” the waiter asked, appearing at her side with a polite but concerned expression . Claire froze, her spoon hovering just above the plate. “Yes,” she managed, her voice a little too high-pitched. “It’s just… delicious.”

Ethan smirked, his hand casually tucked into his pocket, the remote hidden but undoubtedly active. He gave the waiter a polite nod. “The crème brûlée is exceptional tonight,” he said smoothly, his tone betraying none of the mischief.

The waiter smiled, oblivious, and stepped away. Claire exhaled shakily, gripping her spoon like a lifeline.

As she took her next bite, the vibrations intensified, and her composure cracked just enough to draw the attention of the woman at the next table.

“It’s that good?” the woman asked, her tone light, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

Claire’s face turned crimson, and she forced a strained smile, her voice trembling as she replied, “Yes, it’s… really something special.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his expression calm but his eyes glittering with amusement. “It is, isn’t it?” he said, addressing the woman. “I told her she wouldn’t regret ordering it.”

The woman laughed softly, returning to her own conversation, but Claire could feel her gaze lingering for just a moment too long. Her skin prickled with heat as Ethan pressed the remote again, the vibrator shifting into a relentless pattern of pulses and hums that made it nearly impossible for her to stay still.

“You’re doing so well,” Ethan murmured under his breath, his voice low and full of quiet approval. “Just a few more bites, Claire. You wouldn’t want to leave without finishing, would you?”

Her hands trembled as she lifted another spoonful, her breath hitching as she anticipated the next jolt. The custard was sweet and smooth, but every bite felt like a punishment and a reward all at once, her body teetering on the edge of control with each mouthful.

Claire’s spoon scraped the last remnants of custard from the dish, her hand trembling as she lifted the final bite to her lips. She knew what was coming; Ethan’s expression told her everything before she even set her spoon down. Her thighs tensed under the table, her breathing shallow as the vibrator’s rhythm abruptly shifted into a relentless, powerful hum.

Her entire body clenched as the intensity overtook her, the vibrations focusing on her most sensitive spot, pushing her over the edge before she could fight it. She gripped the table’s edge with white-knuckled fingers, her lips parting as her climax crashed through her. Somehow, she managed to keep her moan contained, though a faint gasp slipped past her control, her body trembling as the waves of release coursed through her.

When the vibrator finally eased, her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her skin flushed and her muscles taut. She dared not meet Ethan’s gaze, knowing the satisfaction she’d find there would undo her completely.

The woman at the next table, however, was impossible to ignore. She was watching Claire with a pointed intensity, her lips curling into a sly, knowing smile. She turned her gaze to Ethan, her tone casual but dripping with something unspoken.

“Quite the date,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You certainly keep her… entertained.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his expression calm, collected, and utterly unbothered. He inclined his head slightly toward the woman, his tone smooth as velvet. “I believe it’s all about attention to detail and timing,” he replied.

The woman chuckled softly, her eyes flickering back to Claire, who was still struggling to compose herself. “Well,” she said, her smile widening, “I’d say your efforts have certainly paid off.”

Claire’s face burned crimson, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. There was no malice in the woman’s gaze—only curiosity, perhaps a touch of amusement, and something that made Claire’s stomach flip.

Ethan nodded politely, dismissing the woman’s comment with an easy grace that only heightened the tension. As the woman turned back to her own table, Claire exhaled shakily, her pulse still racing.

“Finish your wine,” Ethan murmured to her, his voice low and commanding. “And don’t forget to thank me later.”

Which, later at home, she did, at length.