A Party of Only the Strictest Obedi

A Party of Only The Strictest Obedience

I am trained.

Very, very well trained. And I like it that way.

Before Dinner is Served:

It was a dinner-slash-garden party, on a nice Indian Summer's night. I arrived early, to help Carole with the preparations, but for another reason as well. The guest list was sure to be at least a little kinky. Carole and her husband Harlan ran our local munch. Some of the guests were from our friend's circle. But this wasn't a kink event, or sex party, or anything like that. There could be some straight friends here as well. So, I had to get permission.

I was a very well trained piece of property, and Master wanted to exhibit me that way tonight. I wanted that too. The idea of exhibitionism in a setting like this unnerved me, but I wanted to be seen...as I am.

I waited until Harlan arrived back from shopping, and asked them both about this in their kitchen. They were clearly intrigued by the idea. I mean, they ran a munch, so it stands to reason they'd be a little kinky, right?

Their response: If it was all right with every single guest, then it was all right with them. But it was up to me to get permissions. I had to ask every single guest individually, even the ones I'd never met before. And if any of them seemed uncomfortable, it was off.

Master was fashionably late, to allow me the time to approach every single guest soon after they'd arrived. I had to wait to be introduced to some of them. Luckily, most of them were couples, and I was allowed to address those together.

Nobody said no. Some of them seemed taken aback a bit, and a few were downright intrigued. I detected some bulging crotches, hardening nipples, elevated respiratory rates, and lingering stares. I took this as a sign that we'd begun. I also had to ask each of them a specific question. It hardly felt relevant to the ones I was meeting for the first time, but I had to ask it anyway. More on that later.

After that chore was done, I relaxed into the party. I was absorbed in the conversation a group of us were engaged in on the couches in the living room, enjoying my glass of Chablis, when I heard it...

The snap of his fingers.

It wasn't loud, barely enough to cut through the voices of the room. It's something you would have to have been listening for. But of course, I was listening, whether I realized it or not. That's what good training does for you.

I arose immediately, before the echo of that snap had even died down, while someone was in mid-sentence. I scurried to the entrance and kneeled on my hands and knees at my Master's feet. All conversation had stopped now. All I could see was my Master's foot on a rug, framed by my long black hair flowing down either side of my face. But I could feel the silence around me.

I could I feel all those eyes on me.

The next thing I felt was my hair being pulled out of the way as my studded black leather collar was fastened around my neck. It's a thicker collar, closer to the size of a posture collar. It feels like a dog collar, and that's just the way I like it. The matching leather leash was attached to the hook on the front, and then pulled up taut. Not too tight, just so that I knew who was in control now.

"Lick."

That one word from my Master was all I needed. The leash went slack enough to allow my face to go down to my Master's Oxford, where I commenced licking it. There are different types of intent when it comes to licking your Master's feet or shoes. My intent was to combine the worship, which I feel in my soul, with cleaning, since he'd just come in from the outside, for a comprehensive lick. I live for this, and I feel my Master deserves the very best my tongue can offer.

What I naturally assume everyone else saw as my Master's shoe filled my field of vision: A man older than my 38 years by about a decade, still fit in his pressed tan slacks and logo-less t-shirt that are practically an LA uniform. Greying hair with a few stubborn streaks of brown in it. This man would look absolutely at home at a casual LA dinner/garden party, with barely a hint of any BDSMyness of Master-ness to him, except...that he was holding a leather leash.

And on the end of this leash was a woman on her hands and knees with her mass of straight dyed-black hair concealing her face, which was busily licking her Master's shoe. Her complimentary dark skirt was probably strewn around her legs without even a hint of elegance to it. Lick, lick, lick, lick, lick...

"Enough."

I felt the slight tug simultaneously with his command, and raised my face back up, still on my hands and knees. Believe it or not, I missed the taste of that Oxford.

"Crawl."

I turned and followed as my Master led me back in to where everybody was. My eyes were still trained on the floor beneath me like a good girl, so I couldn't see anything else going on. Then my Master spoke to Harlan & Carole.

"Harlan, Carole, thanks for having us today. And thanks for understanding my bitch's request here. You're sure you don't mind?"

I always felt a twinge of wetness when he referred to me as his bitch. I just couldn't help it...and he knew it.

"Mind?" said Harlan, "I'd say intrigued is more like it. You came to the right place for this, even if it isn't really that kind of a party. Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?"

"We-ellll..." I couldn't see, of course. But I could feel my Master looking down at me, and then back up at Harlan as he drew out that "well." "I would really like to display her as she should be displayed today. But it would definitely be explicit. Very, very explicit. It's your home, so anything you say will happily be abided by us."

"Would that make her more comfortable?" Carole asked.

"Well yes...and no. But that's the fun of it."

As was later confirmed for me, Harlan & Carole exchanged glances and silently agreed between each other on this. Then Harlan spoke.

"Consider our home your home today. Since all of our guests have agreed to this already, I see no reason why we shouldn't all enjoy it to the full. If anyone has any problems, they are free to leave. Means more booze for the rest of us, am I right?"

I heard a roomful of murmurs in agreement.

"Thank you, my friends" said my Master, "that means a lot to me. Well, I really need to get this bitch changed, then."

"Oh, well if you'd like to use a bedroom for privacy..." Carole offered.

"Actually, I'd rather do this...out in the open."

"Oh...well, sure, of course," said Carole, almost stammering. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"This table would actually be perfect", Master said, undoubtedly referring to the long, low coffee table right in front of us. "Just needs some padding. Also, I'll need the tote bag she brought with her."

Just to remind everyone, I couldn't see any of this exchange. All I saw was the floor beneath me, framed by my hair down the sides of my face. I heard some movement, as preparations were made while we stayed there, and then a few minutes later my leash was tugged.

"Up."

With that command, I crawled up onto the coffee table. It was now covered by a dark blue velvet covering for softness, with everything else removed. I got a brief view of people on the couches holding their drinks now, staring at me, until I was up and in place on all fours. Then my eyes went back down to the covering, like a good little bitch.

Because I am a good little bitch for my Master. Never make any mistake about that.

It was time to undress me. My Master started with my white cotton blouse with subtle ruffles. He unbuttoned it in the front, and then moved my arms up to ease it off me. It revealed a black bra and black corset. The corset was an under-bust model, so did not cover my breasts. The combination of wearing both the bra & corset had not been comfortable at all. Thankfully, the bra came off next, allowing my tits the freedom they so desperately needed.

Master unbuckled my black square-toe Mary Jane's next, and slipped them off my feet, and then lovingly worked my stockings down from my thighs all the way down and off of me. Master loved me in stockings, but wanted my legs and feet bare tonight. My skirt was removed next.

I was now nearly naked. I had my collar, corset and black silk panties on, but nothing else. It was time for things to get really interesting now. First, he gathered my long straight black hair in his hands and pulled it through a black ponytail band. My hair was now tight against my head with a ponytail extruding from just above my neck. This changed things dramatically for me. There was suddenly much more light to my field of vision now, and I could see a bit of the people around my through my peripheral vision. I got more of a sense of them staring at me now. I wondered if they saw what I felt my Master saw.

At 38, I was hardly skinny. I wasn't anything close to a BBW, but I had some heft to my body. Some thickness. Master had a thing for Selma Blair when he was younger, and said that with my dyed hair; I kind of looked like a more substantial version of her. I had liked this, because it pleased him, and was happy to dye my hair for him. It was a little Gothy too, which I liked. My Master very much liked my rounded ass. He would say it was like the cheeks of my ass were genetically engineered for a spanking. My tits were a little fleshier than I would like, but he liked them, and so I tried to look at them through his eyes.

My Master had taken me to get my nipples pierced, and I had my usual studs in them. He removed them, reached into my big black tote bag, and brought out a smaller pair of nipple-rings, which he inserted into my nipples. Then he attached a short chain between them.

I felt my Masters fingers at my panty line next. Even after a year of my service to him, I still felt a thrill of those fingers there. But then the fingers were gone, and I felt him palming my cunt. My very, very wet cunt.

"She's wet, of course", announced my Master. "She's probably been dripping ever since she got here. She's like that. Well, I can't be changing her panties every five seconds, so she's going to have to live with it. Hopefully you won't mind...?"

"Oh, no problem at all", said Harlan, "We're enjoying the show."

"Don't worry about any mess", said Carole. "That's what the covering is for."

I heard some rustling in my tote bag, and then my panties were pulled down, oh so slowly, to mid-way down my thigh. I instinctively spread my legs out a bit to hold the panties in place.

"Good girl", My Master said as he gave my ass a loving pat. I heard some more rustling, and then he was wiping my wet area clean with some wipes. It wouldn't stay dry for long of course, but it was something. I heard some more rustling and a bottle being placed on the table. Then he gripped my shoulder with one hand to steady me as a finger from his other pressed against my asshole.

"Breath in and out, nice and even, and relax back here", My Master said. I'd been thoroughly trained in being opened up for use anally. But it was different with people watching me, with the early-evening sun streaming in through the windows. This was harder than I had imagined it would be. As his finger pressed and probed my asshole, I closed my eyes and really tried to concentrate on relaxing back there. While I was concentrating so hard on relaxing, I thought about how humiliating this was, to be fingered up the ass in front of people, some I didn't even really know. The humiliation just made my cunt drip all over again. But that also helped me relax. Before I knew it, there were two fingers going in and out of my ass. Once he felt I'd been opened up enough, a buttplug was then worked into my ass. From the feel of it, I guessed the jeweled buttplug.

I grunted as he took his time to work it in there. He enjoyed this process, and always took his time to savor it. I certainly appreciated that, since it made it easier for me as well, even though it added to my humiliation, knowing that all eyes were on my asshole as my Master loosened it up and worked in the plug. The room was so silent, that it felt deafening to me, which compounded my humiliation so much...and turned me on even more. It finally went into place with a little "plop." My Master cleaned his fingers with hand sanitizer and the wipes, and then it was time for the last element.

"I'm sure you'll agree that it's better for slaves to be gagged when their mouths aren't needed", he said. With that, he pushed a red ball-gag into my mouth, and then fastened the strap on the back. It wasn't one of our bigger ball-gags, since he didn't want to damage my jaw. It could be in my mouth for most of the night, so it had to be something I could deal with.

The last item from the tote bag wasn't all that sexy, but boy did I appreciate it: knee-pads. I was going to be on my knees a lot, and my Master wanted to make it as easy on me as possible. Sure, he could have just allowed me to walk like an an-owned woman. But neither of us wanted that. I craved to be on my hands and knees for my Master. We were both aware of how hard that is on the body. If I couldn't take it anymore, I would safeword back up onto my feet if the gag was out. Failing that, our signal was for me to pull on his pants leg or kick him (not too hard) depending on which limbs were free. We had never had to do this before, but I'd also never been on my knees as long as we were planning tonight, in a space that was not ours.

"Ok", said my Master. "She's all ready now. I take it the drinks are out back?"

"Full bar" replied Harlan. "And after all that work, I'd say you're due for a drink."

I heard a bit more rummaging, and then the command.

"Down."

I moved off the table with the tug of the leash. I could see that my Master had the leather strap for quick spanks in his other hand. He always held it when I was in use for quick corrective measures to keep me in line. It was the symbol for me to remember my rules. He didn't actually have to use it much, but the important thing was that it was always there...and I knew it.

"Crawl."

It was time to go outside now. I dutifully kept pace with my Master on his left side, where the leash was held, making sure to keep my neck even with his body, so that the leash hung straight down, more or less. He had most of the slack curled up around his hand, so that I was on a very short lead. I kept my head down and even with my body, so that my view was of the ground as I was walked. This is the way he had trained me, and this was the way we liked it.

We walked through the back of the Craftsman house and down a few steps, which my Master thankfully let me take my time with, and then we were out on the grass and dirt of the yard. We followed the stone path, with my Master on the stones and me to his side on the softer grass. Luckily, it was a very well-kept yard, so there were no errant sticks or rocks to make it harder on me. There were probably 15-20 guests out here, compared to the five or six in the house. I couldn't see them clearly with my head down, but I could feel the effect we were having. All conversation gradually died down, and I could feel all eyes on me as we made our way towards the bar over by the back fence.

I should stop for a bit and back up: what led me to this place, where I was led out on my hands and knees like an animal, owned by another human being holding my leash?

The Backstory: What Leads One To Be Put On The End Of A Leash?

My journey to this point isn't that all that different from so many others. I remember being transfixed by the odd encounter with certain images or ideas in my youth. A damsel in distress tied up in a graphic novel, or a woman being spanked in a film, the odd highly charged passage in a novel...things like that. You're staring or going over the words, and you have no idea why. They are so wrong, so perverse, yet they take up permanent space in your psyche.

Teenage years were spent fumbling about sex in all the wrong ways, trying to will these darker thoughts out of existence...yet also yearning to be tied up, punished, spanked, whipped, beaten, dominated...

My first attempt at opening up to a boy in college didn't go so well. And he was most certainly a boy! Probably still is. This set the pattern for a while, until I finally got tired of vanilla and embraced the Internet...and my desires. In doing so, I feel I embraced who I really was.

Finding the right Dom was still the problem. I finally got spanked, whipped, bound, and whatever to please these so-called dominant males I was playing with. It scratched an itch, but it still wasn't what I was looking for. What was I looking for? I don't know if I could even tell you. But I guess I'd know it when I found it, for that's what happened when I found my Master.

He courted me, in the manner of a modern BDSM relationship. We met at a munch, he reached out online, we had coffee, and went from there. Then came that first night at his place. We had a pretty basic bondage-spank-fuck & suck session, but it went really well. I was into him, and he certainly seemed into me. After cumming in my cunt, he left me there on the bed with my wrists cuffed behind me, and went into the bathroom. I could see him from the bed, and watched as he peeled off his condom and let it all drip into the toilet while he looked me in the eye. Then he took a nice, leisurely shower, while I lay on those sheets, wishing I could reach around to bring myself off.

I continued watching as he toweled off, groomed himself, and dressed. He didn't say anything to me, didn't even look at me, really. But I was enjoying looking at him...even though I really wanted to rub one off on this bed!

When he was done, he exited the room, and came back a moment later with a sealed bottle of water. He pulled a chair over to face the bed, opened the bottle, maneuvered me up into a sitting position, and then pressed it to my lips to drink.

"Take it slowly now. I don't want any mess, understand?"

I guess I didn't. I pushed my face in because I suddenly felt so thirsty, and tilted the bottle too much. Water dribbled down my chin and onto his bed. He very calmly capped the bottle and set it down.

Then he grabbed my hair with one hand, and let loose with a slap!

Owwww!

It wasn't even that hard of a slap, compared to what he could have done. It was to get my attention more than anything. But I'd never been slapped before, and the feeling was intense. I actually started to tear up.

"I gave you a very specific instruction there. Go slow. No mess. And look what you've done. Are you happy with yourself now?"

I shook my head no, trying not to cry.

"I'm going to give you another slap, because you need it to learn, and then we're going to try again."

The second slap wasn't quite as bad as the first, since I was expecting it this time. But getting slapped in the face is still intense. You can't really get used to it.

After that second slap, he was as good as his word, and put the water to my lips. This time I was very careful, and slowly sipped it as he controlled how much poured into my mouth. I looked into his eyes as he kept eye contact with me the whole time. After I'd drank about half the bottle, he set it down, got up, and just left me there cuffed on his bed as he left the room. He returned a few moments later holding something and sat back down. He set a leather collar and leash on the bed next to me.

"Have you ever been leashed and collared?" He asked.

"Well, I've worn collars before, but it was just for play. Nothing serious. I take it this is...more serious?"

"I would like to leash and collar you, and train you."

"Is this like formal slave training?"

"Yes, but only for me. You'll be my property, and be trained to obey me. Your training won't do you any good with any other Dominants, as it'll be aimed exclusively for my needs."