We sat on the bus, under the sterile fluorescent lights, the only other passengers a thirtysomething couple several rows up. Master pulled me close to whisper in my ear. "I can't wait to get home, tie you down, fuck your tight little pussy, and fill it up with my hot cum." I wiggled at the power of his words; I probably blushed, too. "It makes me hard just thinking about it," he said. "Feel how hard I am."
I pulled back to meet his gaze, my eyes wide and serious. "No! I can't. Not right now."
"Why not?" he asked.
"'Cause... people will see." I slouched forward in my seat, bashful.
Master was not impressed. "Who will see?" He flicked his eyes towards the other couple, who were gazing straight ahead, oblivious to us behind them.
"The bus driver," I said, gazing fearfully at the rounded mirror at the front of the bus.
"The bus driver is watching the road. Now do it. Here I'll even put my hand in the way so they can't see," he said, crossing his leg and resting one arm on it.
I put my hand on his thigh, then hesitated.
"Do it. Do it or I won't fuck you."
Faced with that ultimatum, I reached out with my pinkie to stroke the hard shape beneath his pants, then pulled my hand away. Master smiled.
"You know," Master said, "I've been thinking about your subbiness, and I think you don't actually want a boss - you want a bad guy to fight against. You want the conflict."
"Yeah," I said. "But... it's not that I want a bad guy; I want an antagonist. An antagonist isn't necessarily a bad guy; he's like a rival or a foil."
"The Gary to your Ash Ketchum."
I giggled. "Yeah, like that."