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The first and most important rule of public play is KEEP IT PRIVATE. The sexuality you share with your significant other is not actually public play, but private play, done in a public setting. If anyone else can detect that you are playing, You’re doing it wrong, very wrong.

Other people who are sharing the public space you are in shouldn’t have to be a witness to your kinks and fetishes and to force them on other people is very rude and disrespectful. As much as I would love to, there’s no leading him around the mall on a leash. The key to this is subtlety. No one else should be able to detect that you are actually playing kinky games in front of them, and if they do detect strange behavior, you must be able to explain it away as something other then sex play. In other words, plausible deniability.

I will give you an example. If you are a regular reader of mine, you’ll know that if I say ‘puppyluv’ to my husband, he must immediately get down on all fours and not speak. He must have one hand on the ground or floor at all times. While this is usually done at home, I have given the order in public a few times just to rattle him. I like to know he trusts me enough to obey instantly. Before doing so, I look around to make sure no one is watching. If someone did see us and questioned what we were doing, I would say he was looking for something small that I dropped, creating plausible deniability. If detected, we stop immediately, as other people’s comfort and our reputations are more important then the thrill we get from public play.

So now that the rule is established, we’ll move on to some of the other things we subtly do in public to reflect the unequal roles we live at home.

He will never let go of my hand. I love holding hands and when we are out, I like to use his hand as a leash to lead him around. I lead and he follows me everywhere. He must hold my hand until I pull my hand away from his purposely. If he lets go first, he will be punished when we get home. If I grab his hand and press it onto an object, like a hand rail, bench, or table, he has to grab hold of it and not let go. He is now effectively leashed to it until I peel his hand off of it and lead him away.

He will remain at heel at all times unless I command him to fetch something or send him on some errand. If I’m not leading him by the hand, he must wait for me to move before he does. He waits for me to start walking and then immediately follows, catches up and matches my pace. Not following immediately is punishable. I usually want him to walk beside me unless one of my girlfriends is with us, in that case I expect him to follow behind us. If we are walking side by side and I stop, he must stop immediately. Taking more than one step further is punishable. As you can see he has to keep most of his attention on me and I love it that way.

My husband never contradicts me while around others, even if he knows what I have said is completely wrong. He lets me lead the conversation in public, only affirming what I have said or adding details. He often mentions to others how smart he thinks I am. If he is the only male present, he usually stays mostly silent, letting us girls have our gab session. It’s easy for us to forget he’s even there. He really portrays the strong, silent type.

Another way he serves me in public is by always being the designated driver at parties so I can drink wine with my girlfriends. In fact, it’s usually the only time I let him drive when we are out together. I love driving, so unless I plan on drinking alcohol, he rarely gets to drive when with me. I sometimes make him bend over and let me insert one of his various buttplugs before we hit the road, but only when I’m driving as it would be too distracting for him to drive safely.

When it’s time to exit the vehicle, if we are alone he requires my permission to do so. He isn’t allowed to ask, so if I exit the vehicle with out giving him permission, he just sits and waits.  Sometimes I don’t give him permission, and when I get out, I’ll walk around and open his door for him, holding his hand, helping him out, and lead him by the hand away from the vehicle. When we approach the vehicle, I sometimes walk him up to the passenger side and open his door for him, and close it once he’s inside. I love the 50’s style role reversal aspect of this. With other people in the car, we do things much more subtly. If one of my girlfriends is with us, he sits in the back seat every time, and he always opens his door last, letting the ladies lead him in getting in or leaving the vehicle. My friends have never even noticed the way in which he unobtrusively submits to us like this.

He has 2 different pairs of sunglasses in my car. A normal pair for the odd time I let him drive, and another pair for when he’s the passenger. The second pair has the sides blacked out and act like blinkers on a horses bridle, creating tunnel vision so that he can only see what’s directly in front of him. I often make him wear them in the car when not driving, but I sometimes make him wear them while walking in the park or window shopping. I lead him around using his hand as a leash at all times as it would be too easy for him to walk into someone else or trip on something just out of his line of vision. I like the way it makes him more dependent on me in public.

While shopping for groceries, he must silently follow me around the store pushing the cart without ever taking his hands off of the handle until we are checking out. If he removes a hand from the cart handle or speaks for any reason, he will be punished at home.

I often make him cross-dress underneath his male street clothes while we are in public. I love knowing he is so sexy and feminine. Panties are quite common. Pantyhose are a must when wearing jeans, as I don’t allow such rough textures as denim to directly touch his bare skin. If he forgot to put them on before leaving the house, I will hand him a pair that I keep in my purse and make him put them on in a public restroom.

I often tell him how pretty he is when we both know strangers can hear. In the future, I plan to buy him a corset and have him tight-laced while we are out. The idea is it will restrict his movement and only allow him shallow breaths, ensuring he feels my control every time he inhales. I will add a little padding around it so that it isn’t noticeable. If anyone asks why he is moving or walking differently, I’ll just say he threw his back out.

When we are sitting in a restaurant, if our table or booth is hidden enough, I sometimes sit across from him and have him put his feet on my lap. I pull a short chain out of my purse and lock it around both of his ankles, effectively hobbling him, until it’s time to leave. I sometimes hobble him when riding in the car as well.

You would think that playing like this, over time, would clue our friends and acquaintances in on the female-led relationship that we have. I cover it up by hinting to my girlfriends that it’s actually the opposite, that he dominates me somewhat. The irony is absolutely delicious. Often times, the girls want to get together and have a girl’s night out. I enjoy it at times, but they do it too often, and I’m not always in the mood to go out with them. I will tell them that I have to ask my husband first. Oh the outrage! It drives them crazy, in this day and age, to think that I would have to ask him for permission. When I come up with a reason he won’t let me go, to avoid going, he gets a few icy stares. My poor scapegoat.

Like most girl groups, we share intimate details with each other including our sex lives, and I share too. Just not necessarily the whole truth. I have, over time, built up my husband’s reputation as being quite the stud which isn’t a total lie as he really is amazing at pleasuring me. But when I talk about how big his cock is and how great it feels, the girls assume it’s his actual cock, not the strap on head harness he uses on me. They don’t know that, hanging out with the other husbands and boyfriends 10 feet away from them, he is securely locked in chastity. Also, his body is clean-shaven, his toenails are painted, and is wearing pantyhose or at least panties underneath his clothes.

While over there talking with the other guys, my ‘stud’ is trained to watch for very subtle hand signals I use to command him in various ways. For instance, when I decide I want to go home, I will signal him to approach me and say it’s time to go. Even though it’s actually me wanting to leave, I again use him as my scapegoat and he’s portrayed as the party-pooper, wanting to leave earlier than everyone else. He is to have a good reason already made up for why we have to go.

My hand signal commands so far are: STAY WHERE YOU ARE, COME TO ME, FETCH ME A DRINK, MAKE AN EXCUSE TO LEAVE, BE SILENT, REMAIN AT MY SIDE.

I never give him any indication that he will be punished for the way he behaved in public until we are home. If he said something that I disapproved of, I will simply walk up to him holding the ball-gag head harness. When that happens, he must immediately swallow and then open his mouth wide, until I have it strapped in place.

His little moans, muffled between my thighs, got me slowly back to reality. My hand was still resting on his head, my fingers in his hair, and despite having just licked me to the fifth orgasm in a row he was still lapping and sucking at my pussy like he was starving. I smiled, happy and content and slightly pulled him away by his hair. As he looked up at me, I could see the juices of my squirt dripping off his chin while he eagerly licked the remnants off his fingers. Such a talented boy. I sat up, caressing his face, taking in the beauty of his naked body kneeling between my legs on the hardwood floor. His arched back, the outline of his firm buttocks, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the warm flickering light cast by the fireplace. “What is that?” I asked, pointing at the wet puddle on the floor between his legs. He blushed (oh how I love when he does that!) and explained how giving me pleasure caused his caged cock to cry rivers of precum. I guess the fact that he hadn’t cum in three weeks was a helping factor, too. I bent forward and covered my fingers in his sticky juice, cutting off a strand dangling from his cage, his hot skin fighting the cold metal bars. My other hand I placed around his jaw, pulling him closer so I could smear his juices on his lips. “Subby lipstick” as I like to call it. However, tonight I was not doing a very tidy job, three fingers rubbing his sweet lube over his mouth, my left thumb and index pressed his jaw open (not that this greedy slut needed any encouragement), the sticky fingers of my right hand venturing deeper inside him, fucking his throat. While he greedily sucked his juice off my fingers, my hand around his jaw relaxed and wandered deeper, closing over his throat and windpipe. I could feel his body tensing under my touch, his throat clenching around my fingers that now were fucking his mouth as deep as I could possibly get. That gagging, clenching, convulsing feeling around my fingers paired with the mixture of arousal and fear in his eyes as my grip on his windpipe hardened were almost enough to send me over the edge again. “You are such a greedy slut, can’t get enough of this, can you?” I coaxed. His caged cock twitched madly in response, oozing more and more of his delicious precum. In those moments when he completely gives himself to me, at my mercy, trusting me to take care of him and to know how far I can go with choking him, I want him more than I can possibly put into words. Slowly, I pulled my fingers out of his mouth, loosened the grip on his throat, and while he gasped for breath, heaving, smiling happily, I leaned in for a long overdue wet kiss, tasting the remnants of my juices as well as his on his luscious lips. 💋