When Is It My Turn.

when is it my turn.

There’s something intoxicating about bringing you into spaces where others can see exactly how you bloom under my attention. The way your posture shifts the moment we enter the room, just a touch more careful, more composed. You try so hard to behave, to be good, to represent what we are with grace, and I adore that about you.

But you can’t help it, can you, my sweet girl? The moment my hand brushes the small of your back, the moment I guide you to sit beside me, your entire body goes quiet. Alert. Hungry. Just the softest kind of needy. I feel it in the way you glance at me for reassurance, the way your hands fold in your lap like you know they belong there.

And I can’t help but indulge in that. In you. Especially when we’re surrounded by other Dominants who recognize the signs, who know exactly what they’re seeing when they look at you and watch the way you respond to my smallest touch.

“Mmm, look at you,” I murmur, as my hand lightly caress your waist. “Squirming already... Are you nervous, sweetheart?”

You try to shake your head, but I see the truth written across your face, so I let a slow, indulgent smile curl at my lips.

“Oh, my best girl always gets a little shy when she knows she’s being watched. Don’t you?” I lower my voice, leaning in close enough that only you can hear. “Especially when you’re sitting so pretty beside Mommy, being such a good little girl for me.”

You make a flustered sound and I give you one last smile before I slip into conversation with my friends, discussing nothing of consequence. Just letting them talk while I trace idle circles on your thigh with my fingertips. Just barely enough to be noticeable. Just enough to make you wonder if they can see how stiffly you’re sitting, how tightly you’re pressing your legs together.

When you shift, I glance at you. “Oh? Can’t sit still, baby?” I say, louder this time, for the table. “I swear, this one’s always like this. Such a needy little thing.”

Their laughter is polite, but I feel your breath hitch.

“Now, now…” I say gently, cupping your chin between my fingers and turning your face toward me. “None of that pouting. You know how I feel about sulky girls. So why don't you be good for Mommy and sit prettily while I talk, and maybe I’ll reward you later.”

My thumb strokes your lower lip. You shiver, just like I knew you would. “There we go. That’s my good girl.”

You drop your eyes. Submissive. Silent. Glowing.

“You love this, don’t you?” I whisper with a smile against your temple. “The way they watch you when I touch you. When I speak to you like you’re mine—because you are. And you love that they know it.”

Your eyes flicker over at me, wide and guilty, and I catch the tiniest sound in your throat. My smile deepens.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think you’re hiding it, but you’re not.” I chuckle softly. “You’re already wet, aren’t you?”

You freeze. The answer’s written all over your face.

“Aww, poor thing,” I coo, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “So worked up and we’ve barely even started. Does it make you ache? Sitting here so close to me, being talked about like a pretty little prize?”

I lean in again, letting my lips ghost over your ear. “I could tell them how good you are on your knees. Would you like that?” I tease. “Should I let them know how obedient you get when I have you all to myself?”

You shake your head, eyes pleading, but you can’t hide that flutter of need in your lashes, as you let out a breathy. “No mommy, please...”

“No?” I smirk, lips brushing your cheek. “Then be still for me, baby. Be good. You can do that, can’t you?”

You nod. So precious. So eager.

Later, when I notice that trembling has taken over your posture entirely, I gently reach over and swipe my thumb along your lip, catching the moisture that shines at the corner of your lips. You didn’t even notice. You’re so far gone.

One of my friends raises an eyebrow. “She okay?”

I smile wickedly, but my hand is soft as I caress your cheek.

“Oh, she’s perfectly fine. Just a little floaty tonight. She gets like this when she feels safe… or when she’s dripping through her panties and doesn’t want anyone to know.”

You squirm, and I feel the heat flood off you. God, you’re so easy to rile up, and it just makes me want to keep going. Especially as you release something between a whine and a moan.

“What did I say about pouting, baby?” I tut, before continuing with an indulgent coo, “and you know I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”

Your eyes flicker with half defiance, half surrender. Before you hide your face against my neck and whine. “Mommy.”

So I say loud enough for the table to hear: “She’s the sweetest little thing, really. So well-behaved… most of the time.”

A little laugh rolls through the group, and you look up from your hiding place like you want to melt into the chair. But I tuck you close to me again, wrap an arm around your shoulders and press a kiss to your temple.

“Just breathe, darling. Let them see how adored you are.”

And I know, from the way your body leans into mine, the way your fingers curl into your lap, the way you exhale that trembling breath…

You love it. You crave it. And when we get home I will make you scream into my sheets, because you're my best girl after all.