This can be read as a stand alone story, but follows on from “This Little Piggy Goes to Market” and “This Little Piggy Stays at Home”. I welcome feedback and my inbox is open for your adoring messages.
Piggy women me up about 90 minutes before we had to leave. I was grateful and invited him into the bed with me for a cuddle and some service.
He was delighted, as serving me orally is his favourite. I like to keep it as a bit of a treatment. However, this weekend was going wonderfully, and unbeknownst to him, I had a truly wicked plan for tomorrow!
Piggy crawled to the bottom of the bed and started at my feet, quickly kissing the sensitive skin in the arch on the underside of my foot. He then made his way up my legs, planning swift kisses on one side until he reached my knee, then switching to repeat the action on the other leg.
He kissed the sensitive skin on the inside of my knee joints, then continued upwards. This time, he alternated from side to side, kissing my legs as he opened them up. He didn’t linger, but neither did he rush at this point. He stroked me with both his hands and his lips, turning me on so much that my juices were escaping my pussy lips.
When he reached my pussy he paused. He admired it and let the anticipation build.
“Mmm, stop gawking at the scenery and serve your Queen!” I ordered, eager for his incredibly skilled lips on my clip.
He started with a quick kiss right at the cream where my bottom meets my legs. He trailed those kisses just inside my outer lips, going from one side to the other. Moving deeper this time, he lapped at the folds there, slowly opening them up. He increased his pace, scooping up my juices with his tongue and swirling them around my cliporos. By this time, I was close, and he hadn’t even touched my clitorus. “Hmm, slow down a little,” he obeyed. This man could make me cum in minutes, but knowing we had enough time, I wanted to savour it. He lapped at my cliterous and briefly sucked it into his mouth before he let it go and licked around the area again. Soon enough, it got too much, and I needed to cum. I waited until he took a breath (something he was doing more obviously than he needed to know this moment was close) and grabbed his head. I steered him like I would a vibrator, not letting him up for air until, finally, I let out a long, low moan and my pussy released What felt like a torrent of juices.
Piggy got off the bed and passed me a water bottle, looking smug.
I smiled and said, “Well, that was nice, but I guess we’d better get ready if you are going to take me out for dinner. You may join me in the shower.”
We showed quite quickly. Piggy washed me from head to toe, including massaging the expensive shampoo and conditioner he had bought into my scalp. When we were finishing up, I instructed him to turn around and bend over. I turned the shower head to produce a strong single stream of water. I aimed this at his arsehole and squirted. Piggy loves this sensing. I leant over and whispered in his ear, “Hmm, you like your Queen paying attention to your arsehole, don’t you, you dirty little Piggy?” “Yes, Queen, thank you, Queen!” I could see his cock standing proud and incredibly stiff.
“Hmm, if you are very good, I might just deal with that tomorrow.” I mused.
“Really?” Piggy was delighted. I don’t often play with his cock during the weekends we spent with him in 24-hour service. This is the way he likes it, really. There is nothing that turns Piggy on more than humiliation and service. I had plans though, and Piggy trusts me. Still, who doesn’t enjoy an orgasm?
The restaurant we were going to had opened recently in the city centre. I changed into a lovely dress, and Piggy put on a smart suit. It was a place where you understand what everything was on the menu, but all the food was served in a way that felt original. I am a foodie and love to spend Piggy’s money on the exciting restaurants in my area.
We arrived and were seated. Piggy was handed the wine list by a waiter, making some frustrating assumptions. Piggy handed it to me. “Oh, she’s in charge,” he smiled. “She has wonderful taste.” The waiter smiled and left me to make the decision.
There were some truly eye-watering prices on this menu. I decided to tease Piggy a little. Piggy makes plenty of money at his job. He can afford to pay for many things, and I love this aspect of our relationship. Before these weekends, I review his bank accounts and work out how much I’m going to have him spend. After the weekend, we will have a debrief. I am proud to say I have never let Piggy go into debt or left him without enough for his expenses. Piggy owns a house and has an emergency fund. I don’t touch it and allow him to build it back up when it’s used. I take pleasure in the submission he shows when I spend the rest of his money! Piggy doesn’t know what the budget for this weekend is–only I know that–but hewon’t stop me if I decided to spend all his money and more. I’m probably slightly over cautious with this, but the wellbeing of my subs is of the utmost importance to me.
“Hmm, there’s a nice-looking red from Languedoc here. £150, that seems reasonable.” Piggy is definitely squirming. He doesn’t know where on the wine list this bottle sits. I don’t permit him to look at the menu before we go out.
“Black fruits, spices, and subtle oaks. Hmm… maybe. I think I’d rather have something less intense.” Piggy is thrumming with anticipation of how much of his money I will spend on the wine. He knows I have the power, and it excites him so much. It doesn’t matter how much I end up spending. What matters is him knowing that I hold the reins and, of course, that I generally choose something I enjoy.
“Ohh, they have a Krug Vintage here for £450! Notes of lemon and pink grapefruit. Champagne might be a fun end to the evening, but I want red with the meal.”
“Whatever you think is best, Queen.”
I could see the excitement growing. £450 was an absurd amount to spend on one bottle of wine. Ordering this would put him in a tricky place financially, and yet should it please me, I’d order it and he’d pay for it.
“Ohh, there’s a Brazilian tempranillo here! Just £50, but I do love a tempranillo. Right, that’s what we will have.” The waiter came over and took our wine order, leaving us to look at the food menu as he went to retrieve the bottle.
Piggy used to be quite fussy about food. He can be a little unadventurous with his food choices, so when we go out to eat, I tell him what he is eating. He doesn’t always enjoy what I order him, but he always enjoys being told what to do. That said, he’s been very good this weekend, and this place is known to do fantastic roast beef. I have already decided this is what I’m going to order for him, but again, I want him to know that his food is my choice.
I look at the menu for a couple of minutes, slowly savouring the flowery language and the delicious descriptions before our waiter returns with our wine. This time, he had learned not to make assumptions, and I tasted it. Piggy has not touched his menu; he knows better.
“Are you ready to order?”
“Yes, to start, it’ll be the tempura squid for me and the pan-seared scallops for him.” I think Piggy will like scallops, but he has likely never had them. He tends to avoid fish, but I think the light taste and the meaty texture will delight him.
“And then I’ll have the venison fillet, and he’ll have the roast beef.”
“Excellent choices. Thank you.” He glances at Piggy, who is smiling and nodding. Sometimes people raise eyesbrows at us that the opposite gender dynamics wouldn’t elicit. Piggy easily reassures these people. This is for the best, as I don’t have any interest in doing so.
The meal was delicious. The scallops surprise Piggy, and he eats them happily. The venison and the beef are perfect. The accompanynts are a wonderful blend of traditional and modern. For dessert, I get a cheese plate and order Piggy a sticky toffee pudding. I bring up the champion again but order an Old Fashioned for Piggy and a White Lady for myself.
After the meal, the waiter came and presented me with the bill. He has assumed that I’m paying. I look at Piggy, and he smiles, saying, “That one is for me, thanks you,” taking it off the waiter. I tell him that we will tip 15% (generous in the UK for my international readers). I’m sure this waiter will go tell his friends about the woman who came in and spent her partner’s money, ordering for him, not knowing that he’ll probably be turning a few of them on.
The rest of the night is lovely. I am past the point of being sober enough to domme, so we spend some time as equals. This is lovely, but hardly the point of this story, so which will pick up again tomorrow morning.
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