Making A Scene...for Fun

Making a Scene...for Fun

We didn't do much on Sunday that you'd be interested in, but there was one notable exception: an(other) incident of very public, in-your-face humiliation play.

We took a long walk in a different direction to our usual routes and ended up in an area neither of us knew. Before making the journey back, we stopped at a pub for drinks. It looked okay from outside, but we soon found that it didn't welcome strangers and the customers (mainly male) seemed to be largely snobs, bores and bigots.

"We're not coming here again" announced N, after 15 miserable minutes; then she had a brainwave. If we were never going to the place again, this was surely a good opportunity for some humiliation play. There were no kids about (we imagined that somebody would have complained) so our audience would be safely adult.

It would have to be brief, to avoid getting into conflict with the locals, N reasoned; and we would have to leave immediately afterwards, to avoid being thrown out; but we could get away with it. There were people just feet away (the pub was approaching half-full) but they would probably be too surprised to do anything, initially.

I have to say that I didn't want to do it. I am usually both anxious and excited in these situations, but this was one of those occasions when I just wasn't up for it at all. If there had been a specific reason, such as illness or a death in the family, N wouldn't have made me go through with it; but I just didn't feel like it.

In those circumstances, N's attitude is uncompromising: tough, you do as I tell you and you like it - and if I tell you to dance a little jig of joy afterwards, you do that too. I accept that because it's the price I have to pay for a real Mistress: sometimes you have to do what you don't want to do. Still, I felt a bit sick at the prospect.

N's plan was that, just before we finished up our drinks, she would feign a fit of temper, turn on me, then we would quickly exit with her berating me as we went. She didn't say exactly what she'd do as she wanted me to look genuinely surprised. I waited for her cue and just wanted to get it over with.

Mistress V had done something similar with me in a restaurant once - loudly accusing me of avoiding paying the bill - except that she didn't warn me at all and I thought she meant what she was saying . I was actually angry with her until she revealed what she had been doing; luckily, she acknowledged that she should have warned me first.

Suddenly, N started to raise her voice and noisily accuse me of bringing her to 'this rotten pub' for our 'anniversary treat' (!) Before I knew what was happening, she stood up, grabbed what was left of my pint of beer and threw it in my face, calling me a 'cheap bastard' then leaning across the table and spitting in my face.

I was stunned and unsure how she wanted me to react, but I started apologising. For some reason, I made no attempt to clean myself up. N (probably more conscious of the need to keep things moving) marched round the table and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. I was vaguely aware of people staring, but focussed on her.

"Come on, we're leaving. How dare you bring me here!" she complained, virtually pulling me out of my seat.

I scrambled to my feet and N started to bundle me toward the door. You might expect me to say that people's laughter was ringing in my ears, but in fact, the pub was strangely quiet apart from N abusing me. As we reached the exit, she pushed me forward and I felt her kick me up the rear to encourage me out.

"You wait till I get you home, you little sh*t", she said as she stood in the doorway; then she turned her head back slightly and, raising her voice so no-one would miss her parting shot:

"I'M GOING TO PULL DOWN YOUR PANTS AND GiVE YOUR ARSE A BLOODY GOOD ROASTING!"

She slammed the pub door behind her and then hurried us both away, occasionally looking back (I never did). When we were safely out of view from the pub, she fell on me, laughing her head off; and although I was still feeling a bit sick and a bit shaken, I started to laugh with her.

"You cheap bastard", she chuckled, referring ironically to her earlier improvised tirade, "Taking us to a sh*thole like that!"

"I'm so sorry, N" I replied, joining in on the joke this time: "On our anniversary too!" She hugged me close and giggled into my shoulder and I started to feel a little better about what we had done. She had clearly enjoyed it very much and I was thrilled to have pleased her, at the expense of a little bit of pride.

I'm being factual rather than romantic when I say that, as she held me, our two hearts pounded in unison. I supposed it had been pretty exhilarating, on reflection. N recoiled slightly.

"I forgot you were all wet with spit and beer" she said, giving me a playful slap. She dug in her bag and got me some tissues to clean myself up with. She started talking about the reactions of the other customers to our little scene. She seemed to have been more aware of them than me.

"Did you hear that gasp when I gobbed on you?" On reflection, I had, but I hadn't processed it. I said how surprised I was no-one had laughed.

"They seemed more shocked than anything" she observed. "Maybe they started laughing after we left. Shall we go back and see?"

I shook my head vigorously. "I'm not going there again".

"Unless I say so", she corrected me.

"Unless you say so" I agreed and I was rewarded with a little squeeze of my hand.

You might imagine that we would have gone onto a BDSM session when we got home; oddly, we didn't. In fact, we just ate dinner, chatted and listened to music.

The only other BDSM related incident took place just before I left for home, when N locked me back in my (chastity) cage as she wants me to be wearing it when I go round LJ's later this week. Clasping my jaw with one hand, she told me that she was relying on me to be 110% loyal to her when I was with her sister.

"If she decides she wants oral, you give it to her and you make bloody sure you satisfy her; but that's it. Remember at all times that you belong to me. Can you do that for me?"

I assured her, quite sincerely, that that was something I would never, ever, forget. She grinned and gave my genitals a proprietorial squeeze.

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[Image from an internet search. Our version was not nearly so spectacular, even if it did silence a pub]