A restaurant

"Come along, ****," Cobrina taunted, "Your Mistress is hungry." The dominatrix also sent an emotional wave of desperation towards Empathica, ensuring the fallen heroine would keep in step like an eager puppy. The women walked down the street, Empathica's skin-tight snakeskin outfit attracting no small number of stares. Two teenage boys walked past, and in a not-so-subtle whisper one said "Damn!" to the other. A prim-looking older woman gasped in astonishment, and several passing men (and a few women) simply stared rudely.

Cobrina beamed. Empathica was feeling ashamed and self-conscious, but was also getting quite aroused knowing that she was such a center of attention. These emotions radiated from the helpless girl, filling her Mistress with delight.

"Here," she stated suddenly, turning under a frilly awning. Empathica nearly tripped on her high heels, stopping her forward motion to follow Cobrina into the establishment. To her horror, it was clearly a five-star eatery. The wait staff all wore tuxedos, as did several of the male guests. Every woman was in an evening gown or at the very least an elegant dress. The Maitre'd looked Empathica up and down, his lip curling in disapproval. "I'm sorry, madame," he oozed with fake sympathy, "But your attire is, shall we say, inappropriate?"

"She is with me, Pierre," Cobrina responded in a dangerous tone. "And her attire is perfectly acceptable." The dominant woman slipped a Franklin into Pierre's slimy hand, and suddenly the dress code was no longer a problem. "Of course," he oozed, "Right this way, ladies." He grabbed two menus and a wine list and took them to the farthest, most distant table in the restaurant. That was fine with Cobrina; the subdued lighting would make her plan that much easier to implement...