I’m standing in the restaurant scanning the tables anxiously. I was supposed to meet you here at five, but it’s already five thirty. I was so nervous about meeting you that I changed my clothes five times and then got stuck in rush hour traffic. I wanted to look great for you, but nothing I tried on was good enough. I finally settled with a short blue skirt that fell only two inches below my ass, a white blouse, and black heels. I know my ass and legs look good in the skirt and heels, but my large breasts are straining against the blouse, my nipples making hard little points in the chilly evening air. I don’t wear a bra; I know you would never allow me that small dignity. I notice people are starting to stare. I feel horrible because I’m sure you left when I wasn’t there on time.

I gasp as I suddenly feel your strong hand grab my wrist. I spin around and see your face glaring at me. My breath catches as I look into your eyes and see your disappointment at my disobedience.