Master has promised me to another, he tells me in the morning. He dresses me in a backless leather skirt and fixes a collar and leash around my neck. He orders me to paint my lips red and tie my hair up tight in a bun. When I am ready, he leads me downstairs to the kitchen and hooks my leash over a chair, telling me to face the table.
“I have a guest arriving soon. You will do whatever our guest wishes.”
He spanks me, hard. I understand. I know better than to disobey.
I stand and wait. And I wait. And I wait. I lose track of time. I hear the doorbell ring, and Master opens it. The muffled sounds of voices come to me, a man and a woman, Master and his guest.
I hear them come into the kitchen behind me. They don’t say anything, but I can feel their eyes on me. Then they leave. Their voices carry to me from another room. Footsteps on the stairs. They go up and return a few minutes later.
I hear heels on the flagstones as Master’s guest approaches me. She comes and stands beside me. I turn to look at her. She is dressed in a tight fitting, black PVC dress, the zipper open down to her navel. In her hand she holds a leather riding crop. On her head she wears a black leather mask in the style of a wolf.
Her green eyes stare at me through the holes in her mask. She lifts the crop and beats it against her free hand. She uses it to command me, signalling that I should kneel before her. I do as I am told. Master is not watching, but I know he is in the house. He is aware of us. I must behave.
Mistress circles me, her crop stroking my shoulders, my breasts, my arms. She whips me on my ass, hitting me hard three times. I gasp, a sharp intake of breath, trying to keep quiet as my Master always insists.
Mistress pushes my shoulder with her crop and I go over onto my hands. She whips my ass; her crop knows where to find the most painful area. It swishes past my face and I look up at her. She signals for me to crawl forward.
I am not sure what she wants, so I keep crawling around the kitchen. She moves from me, turning to watch, then signals for me to stop. I kneel, looking up at her.
Mistress runs her hands over her breasts and crotch. Then she motions to me with her crop and nods her head. I look at her. I am confused. Does she want me to touch her? She strikes her hand with her crop again and nods more forcefully at me. I think she wants to watch me.
I kneel on the floor, unsure of myself. Will Master be unhappy if I do wrong? Am I to play with myself for Mistress, or should I go to her and touch her? I decide to play with myself. Mistress would be closer if she wanted me to touch her, I reason. I watch her to see if I am doing right. She seems pleased, though it is hard to tell with only her eyes visible.
Squatting on the floor, the chain leash drapes over my pussy. I look up at Mistress. She wants to watch me, to see me. She wants me to turn her on with my body. I drop my hands to the floor behind me and rub my pussy against the chain, the links sliding up and down my labia, snaring my clit.
I look up at Mistress. She is absentmindedly rubbing the crop against her thigh, her eyes on my pussy. She is pleased. I will go further for her. Lifting one hand from the floor, I stroke my pussy, open it with my fingers, rub at my hole. I watch Mistress; she likes my eye contact, I can tell. I can see her breathing just a little bit harder.
I make a bold move – one I would not risk with Master, who expects complete obedience – rising from the floor to sit on a seat. Mistress shows no sign of disapproval. I take the leash and wrap the steel chain around my breast, tightening it, making my right tit swell and flush crimson as the blood rushes to the surface. Mistress shifts a little and I know she is pleased.
The leather strap dangles in front of me. I grab it and slap it against my pussy, hitting my clit with it. The sensation shoots electric thrills through me. I am losing control, falling into my own sexual pleasure, something that Master rarely lets me have. I drop my leash and use my hands on my pussy, pressing three fingers inside. I writhe in my seat, forgetting that Mistress is watching me. I want to cum, I want to feel that pleasure. It has been so long since I have had an orgasm.
But I remember myself, remember where I am, and what Master would expect of me. I am here to please Mistress. I stand and bend over the kitchen table, sliding a hand between my thighs, and look over my shoulder. Mistress watches, rubbing the riding crop over her crotch.
Again, I rub at my pussy, push my fingers inside my hole. I aim to excite Mistress but I excite myself more. I thrust my fingers harder. I cum on my hand, shaking on the table, and slither off back to the seat breathing hard.
Mistress looks at me, comes to me, runs her hand over my chin and around my neck, walking around me. She pushes her finger into my mouth for a moment, then takes it from me and turns to leave the room.
I do not see her again, but I wait there, listening. I hear her walk upstairs and return soon after. She speaks to Master in another room. I only hear their muffled voices, then she leaves.
Master comes to find me. He tells me I have done well. I should dress and prepare coffee. He does not speak of it again that day.
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