Through out the cab ride Natasha held her dress down with her hands for the fear of it riding up too high. I told her, “Relax, you look stunning.”...Once we were through the coat check we quickly moved to the bar and I ordered myself a drink. Natasha still holding on to some of her conservative Muslim values did not drink alcohol, so she ordered a pop. It was apparent what sort of an affect she was heaving on the guys around us as people kept asking her for a dance and if she was there. I was trying not to complain." "I don't want complaints, hunny, I want honesty," she remarked, warmly. "I'm feeling very pent-up, Mistress. My arms feel tired and sore and my little pussy aches," I explained, trying not to sound whiney. "It feels tight, tighter than I can ever remember it feeling. Like it just needs to squeeze around something." "Hmm, that's better. Good girl. You are supposed to be feeling pent-up. That's how I like you; on the edge, desperate to cum, but unable to. Doesn't it. More

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