Friday, October 24, 2008

sneaky little bugger

In the company of our home, i regularly tell my girl when it's time for her to go to bed, when she's done with her meal, and what she should wear. On a rare occasion, i'll vocalize similar things in front of others, but usually in tones low enough for just her to hear, and sometimes i'll even utilize facial signals where only she knows the message behind them. Being the little brat that she is, she'll recognize the social limitations of fully exhibiting our power exchange, and push those limits. When i've indicated that she's done with her french fries by subtly placing a hand on her wrist as it moves to her plate, she'll wait until i'm in the middle of an anecdote, occupied by my boisterous regalement, and slip one or two crispy culprits into her mouth. She always looks right at me as she does it, knowing full well i'm witnessing her commit this foul.

She'll later, under interrogation, say she was playing with me. And i do understand what she means. She enjoys the idea of the flow of our power somewhat inverted, where i, the one who is in command, has limits applied to me based on the social situation we happen to be in. It's also a way to flirt, grab my attention and speak to me in a silent dialogue only her and i are having. But, that doesn't absolve her of having transgressed a directive of mine. Correction does follow such behavior.

Recently, she and i attended the wedding of two very dear friends. The ceremony was in the evening, and prior to us walking the few short blocks from our hotel to the wedding's venue, i invited my girl to have a cocktail with me in the lounge just off the lobby. The bartender delivered us the overly rambunctious drink menu, and before even opening it, i said,"Two gin martinis, up, with olives." We enjoyed the moment of solitude. Her in her gown, me in my tuxedo, letting the stiff alcohol of the martinis wrap itself around our conversation, giving the precipice to the evening a distinct smoothness.

Once at the wedding, it became clear to me how stiff those drinks were. My girl is a charmer when sober, but she's an absolute heart sizzler when she's had a few. She seems to forget that others are around us, and her sensual arousal amplifies. She was pawing me, rubbing her hands up and down my chest as we stood amongst the chapel seats. She played little kisses along my jawline with her lips, working her way upto my ear. I loved it, but i also knew this was not the place for it. I pulled her arms-length away from me and looked in her eyes, giving her an expression that indicated 'perhaps not now'. What i saw in those brown bobbles was the earliest indication of a very pernicious bratty girl. To sway me, she wiggled back up against me, and lay her head on my chest.

"You smell soooo nice."

Throughout the ceremony, she held my hands in numerous combinations of one or the other or both at the same time. By the completion of the marital vows, i went to speak with my friends in the groom's party, thinking my girl would speak to the bridal counterparts. Not so. She'd wedged her way into linking with my arm, clinging to me as i talked "shop talk" with the boys. When we adjourned to the upstairs veranda for the cocktail hour, i suggested to her to take it slow, and just get some wine to sip. After all, it would be a shame not to enjoy (remember) the evening. At one point, we got separated, but from across the room, i occasionally looked over at her wherein she would smile and show me her glass still just half-full. By the time dinner was about to be served, we reconvened, and she proudly showed me her white wine glass as if to say "See? I'm still on my first glass." But, here's where the games began. She knew i wouldn't fall for it.

"Same glass? Why does this one not have the red scarlet imprint of your lips on the rim? Again, please take it slow."

We assumed our seats at our table, joining our eight other table-neighbors. When the waiters worked the room with wine bottles, my girl declined. Somewhere during the appetizer course, she noticed my bourbon was low and offered to get me a drink. I took her up on her offer, thanking her for it. By the time she'd returned, i'd somehow managed to gain the entire table's attention telling them a story about the groom and a creative use of bananas. She'd returned with a glass of amber whiskey, but also a cocktail of her own. I couldn't say anything in the midst of my stroll down memory lane - and she knew it.

For the rest of dinner, we engaged in a duel of sorts with me putting her contraband drink out of her reach, and her taking it back - again while i was consumed with a conversation so that i couldn't stop her. Eventually, i was able to pass it off to a waiter who was clearing dishes. Thankfully, the dance portion of the evening commenced, which served as a perfectly timed distraction. I adore dancing with my girl, she is adept at being led, which makes dancing a virtual heaven. We scooted around the floor for a few numbers, then i cut in between the groom and his new bride for a quick shimmy. Afterward, i couldn't immediately find my girl. When i did, she had a wrinkly, wry smile pulling at the side of her face.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing." She said this as she wrapped her arms around my neck and swayed her hips to the slow rhythms of the band's tune. But, i could smell exactly what she'd been upto. And she knew it. This only made her smile more. The next number, the band kicked the rhythm up, which meant much more coordination from those dancing. Within the first few bars of the song, i knew my girl wasn't up for it. She stumbled, she plodded and she most certainly didn't follow my lead.

"Okay. We're done."


I went and grabbed her jacket from the coat check, holding it up to help her put it on, then gave her my arm to escort her outside. We walked back to the hotel, with her leaning heavily into me. A few times, i had to catch her, as she nearly tripped to the sidewalk. By the time we reached our room, she was incapacitated. The removal of her gown and undergarments was left to me. In this state, i knew she would not be responsive to what needed to happen. Lucky for her. Her booty got a reprieve that evening, but, later, she would pay for it.


The House Wench said...

I personally do not like the drink, because I am a lightweight and prone to falling on my face. However, if I manage to start, having Master guide me away from any more is a good thing.

Can't wait to see what her punishment is.

David said...

What a lovely and charming story Diety. Of course she will pay, but from the telling it is clear you also love the play. It is how girls can/ought to be; would they be as sweet and adorable otherwise? Intelligent, personal/private, secret, public interplay; sweet.

Thank you for sharing this, it brought smiles to my heart, fond recollections, and imagined possibilities.

Anonymous said...

And pay for it I'm sure she did! It is nice to see that you allowed her the 'playfulness', with both of you knowing full well what it would cost her. Sometimes alcohol just makes a girl more daring :)


Anonymous said...

How could you do this? I *loved* this write up, but a pal and get onto part b soonest. I'm guessing the guilt...and regret...kicked in big time in the morning. Yes?


doll said...

What an exceedingly bratty girl she was. There was no excuse for it. I'm sure you disciplined her well when the time was right and have now set in place severe penalties for such bad behaviour.

goodgirl said...

Deity, Sir
Sometimes though it just feels so good to be bad.


{milla} said...

I love it!

Weddings are made to be bratty and have fun at, surely.

Deity said...

house wench,
drink is something i almost never allow where play is concerned. it is sooooo unsafe for any amount of inebriation to interrupt the wonderful flow of energy.

i thought this many times that evening, while watching my girl interact with others as well as watching other females, and also just recently as i commuted to work on the train. a dangly earring caught my eye, slender fingers holding an open book or perhaps pushed back long locks of silken hair. All of it amounts to this: i adore the female species.

i of course enjoyed the spectacle. if i felt at any point she had really crossed a line, i would've most certainly asserted myself.

she was quite contrite.

exceedingly bratty girl, indeed. but, let it be clear, there is much spoken in how much freedom her and i felt safe to flirt with that allowed her to act this way. call it a leash, a tether, an anchor - no matter what it's called, there is no doubt that there is measured and managed attachment.

i can only imagine.

especially this one, since we only had to walk ourselves back to our hotel. a long car ride would've sent her reeling in her state.

Eliot said...

What fun to see the bratty side of your girl. I love it even more as I am wont to be a teasing brat myself. ;)

Ally said...

Diety - I've been reading your blog since early last year when I started reading blogs...this is one of my favorite posts ever from anywhere. I love the way you talk about your girl, it's so obvious how much you love her. I thought this post was so sweet, there was something about it that really touched me. I do look forward to reading more of whatever you do decide to publish here.

Deity said...

I'm glad you enjoyed this post. Thank you for dropping me a comment for the first time.

I'll be publishing for awhile. Just trying to figure out the best way to do it.

Thank you for reading.