”“Not a chance,” Vivie told him. “Say, you ever have a pickup in here?”“Nope! I suspect that there’s never enough of the right kind of c...stomers – at least not at one time. This ain’t Mickey D’s or Starbucks,” he added.“Oh well,” Vivie quipped, “Load up ladies, and let’s get a move on outta here.” followed by, Two doors down from the restaurant, they were accosted by two new pimps who smirked and deliberately blocked their path. Walking in the rear, Vivie directed, She squatted, carefully set. . My good intentions finally went flying out of the window the night we went to The Spotted Ox in Upper Monkdale. It was an old, quaint pub deep in the middle of nowhere. Strange stuffed animals hung off nicotine stained walls and a huge log fire burned in a black grate, despite it being a mild June evening. We were practically the only customers in there, other than a few desiccated farmer types sat near the bar, supping pints of local brew and muttering to their sheep dogs in grumpy tones.The. She reached to my nipples and put razor-sharp clams on both of them.?Why are you...? before I could even finish, she squeezed my balls hard.?I said I didn’t want to hear you speak, American.?She got up from me and I heard her walking behind me, then shifting downwards. I tried crawling away but she grabbed a hold of my cock.?Normally, nipple clamps with chains with them are attached to each other. Mine, however...? I heard the sound of chains jingling then I felt my nipples being pulled. My Dad leaned in close so as not to be heard by his colleagues and said “what’s with you and the waiter?”. I looked at him and said “nothing, what do you mean”. “well it looks to me like he keeps coming to our table and smiling at my handsome son”. I was a little surprised as I had thought my little fantasy had been just mine, but maybe the reality was actually happening. The meal and chatter progressed and every time I glanced over at the waiter, I often caught him staring back at me and.