The waitress pledged obedience to Emma

"The waitress said that no one had ever made her cum like that before. Not ever, in her whole life. And she thanked me and said the only way she could prove how grateful she was would be by offering to do whatever I wanted, anytime, ever."

Your eyes jut open. Is it possible that this one particular waitress is susceptible to such naughtiness, or is this the sort of thing that Emma brings out in everyone? She's certainly brought out latent desires in you.

But to Emma this doesn't seem too strange at all. "So I told her to keep her panties off, and to never wear panties again because one day I'll come back here and I'll need a quick meal. So I took her panties off the floor and slipped them on. You're welcome."

Emma takes her wet finger and caresses her decolletage above the low cut of her green dress, streaking the juices onto her flawless, freckled, skin.

It's almost too much to take, and you don't really have anything to say. Your cock feels like it's about to burst out of your pants. Of course getting up and running to the bathroom is probably a dumb idea, and getting up and pulling out your cock for Emma is unlikely to work either. You feel like you've reached an impasse.

Until Emma gives you an opening. "And I suppose I should thank you too," she says, "For taking me out for a good meal." She smiles, looking very much like the naughty girl she is. You're starting to forget what it was like to look at that face and see anything other than a perverted girl behind it.

Suddenly you know just how to press your luck. "You know what I hear is the fashionable way to thank someone these days?" You ask leadingly.

"What's that?" Emma leans forward, as if she knows what you're going to say, but wants you to say it anyway.

"Pledging your complete obedience to them. Especially when they keep coming up with dependably wonderful things for you to do." You pat yourself on the back a little. But if you're not going to sell yourself now, when would you?

Emma leans back in her seat. "Maybe."

"Maybe? Since when were you a girl who said things like 'maybe?'" You know that has to rub her the wrong way.

Emma glares at you with her brown eyes. "What would you have me do? Tell me first, and I'll tell you if I'm yours"