Public Humiliating Humor

So I went to see Sir on Friday. It was quite different - a brief albeit pleasurable and entirely satisfying visit. Well not entirely satisfying but that is because (under sufferance) I am apparently learning to be patient. Patience is a virtue I have been working on for quite some time. It is fair to say of all of the virtues I have few downpat - unless nihilism or hedonism have recently made the list and someone forgot to drop me the note.

We have an up coming plan that I am drooling over, waiting, counting minutes. I will not bore you with the details until after as, well, that would just spoil it now, wouldn't it? So I am waiting patiently.

Last week was hard. There were several days where I thought homicide was a realistic possibility. I needed the release. After Friday (phew) this week is shaping up to be a big, tingly, giggling mass of anticipation.

So, (you say) where is the public humiliating humor? Did you notice that I said public humiliating - not publicly humiliating? That was on purpose.

Let me take you back to Friday afternoon. Lets just presume I was feeling particularly subbie. I dressed simply in a black, v-neck, knit dress, lacy black panties, a good strapless pushup bra and some patent red mary-janes (I love mary-janes). I had my hair in two long plaits draping down over my shoulders that day but that was just a little too much. I decided to wear it down....much easier for him to wrap his fist in, no? Half way to Sir's place I had an idea. While stopped at the traffic lights I quickly removed my underwear and shoved them in my handbag. I am pretty certain the guy in the car next to me knew what I was doing. I winked at him just incase he had any doubt and beat him at the lights (dragging boys off at the lights is one of my many vices...). The visit was going to be short and I was not asked to bring any of my things, though I had stashed my handcuffs and gag incase I was asked. I got to Sir's and left an hour or two later, soaked in sweat and cum, blissed up to my eyeballs.

The next morning I went shopping. On my way out of the first store I was bag checked. I rarely am (must give off just the right level of the 'don't fuck with me' vibe). Being still sweet tempered from the night before must take the edge off so I sauntered over to the cutsie 17 year old boy with his lightly plucked eyebrows and swooshed hair covering one eye. I unzipped the bag as I was walking over and looking in realised my dilemma. I decided I had to either run, refuse (I know my rights) or suck it up. In half a second I had discovered another option - enjoy it. I made hard eye contact with him, smiled and opened my bag. The lace panties were sitting high ontop, leather cuffs underneath. The poor boy. He stammered a quick "ah that's ah fine ma'am" and blushed a thousand shades of red. I nearly asked him if he wanted me to unzip the middle pockets or if he wanted receipts but I am not that mean.