God I need this vacation. It’s been almost three years since my last, and to quote the rock band Boston, "It's been such a long time, I think I should be going', yeah!"
The relationship between Brittany and me seems to be taking a turn for the better. I believe that under the super-smart, manipulative veneer is a lonely little girl whose maniacal behavior is merely a coping mechanism. She still toys with me at will, but I feel her expressing more compassion and tenderness recently, which I desperately need after all I have been through.
All day yesterday I was allowed to catch up on my sleep (though I was locked to the bed with a collar and chain), as Brittany shopped for new clothes for both of us. We went out for dinner without any teasing or sexual behavior what so ever. This morning she even packed suitcases for both of us while I relaxed in a hot bath.
We rushed out to the airport without eating breakfast. I knew we were going to a resort, but she waited until this morning to pop the surprise. We are reclining in our first class seats on our way to a secluded (and expensive) Mexican Spa. It is extremely hot there this time of the year, so we are both dressed in short, yet respectable sun dresses with 2 inch heeled sandals. Of course, I am completely naked underneath, which I have never really gotten used to.
As we clear the clouds and jet through the bright blue sky, I feel Brittany’s breath on my ear. “Lift up your dress and sit your tight little naked bottom on the seat.” I look over to see a wry little grin on her face, and I know that the game is on. Already feeling a surge of sexual lust, I do as she requests.
“Play with your cunt, my pet. I want to see you get steaming hot for me. You do not have permission to cum. Here is a blanket,” she whispers as she covers me from the hips down. As trained, I immediately reach down and play with the naked lips of my sex. I tickle my labia and draw light lines from my cunt to my puckered hole. I touch my clit and rub it in light, slow circles. It has been a few days since I have had any sexual stimulation, so I am surprised by how powerfully my sexual need has hit me.
My nipples become little bullets tenting my dress. My breathing becomes a little ragged and my body temperature warms dramatically. As I build up to orgasm I realize just how much higher I must now climb to reach the peak. My entire body is shaking as I reach the fine edge of a climax. I am even a bit dizzy as I reluctantly move my hand away from my clit and down to my drenched lips. I toy with my ass, as Mistress has taught me, helping me maintain most of my lust while allowing me to back off the edge just a little. My hips rock in tiny thrusts as I reach for my clit again. I can feel the sweat bead on my forehead.
For over two hours, I repeatedly bring myself to the edge of orgasm. I know the seat had to stink of sex; thank God the blanket was there to mask most of the odor. I was so preoccupied that I skipped lunch. When nobody was looking, Brittany would occasionally reach over and pinch one of my incredibly distended nipples, causing me to stifle a squeal. The denial was torture, but it was a familiar place that felt strangely comfortable.
“You may stop now. Go freshen up and find a way to clean your smelly seat. And put these in your cunt,” she whispered. She hands me a set of ben-wa balls. It is these demands that bring back the feeling of humiliation and submission. Somehow, I had to clean up the drenched seat without being noticed, and slip these devilish little balls in my vagina.
I lean forward and use the blanket to dry off the seat, as well as my drenched thighs. I tuck the blanket under the seat and walk to the restroom. The mirror tells me the truth. I look like a horny slut, dying for a chance to orgasm at the whim of my Mistress. Feelings of self-pity mix with my extreme lust to cloud my head. I squat down and roll the balls into my sopping cunt. All I can truly concentrate on is the throbbing of my swollen clit. I press down on my nipples to try to relieve the swelling, but without luck.
After landing, we are met at the gate by two distinguished gentleman in chauffeur uniforms and a lady in a professional business suit. With the greetings out of the way, we are escorted to the baggage claim, where the two men grab our luggage and lead us out to the stretch limousine. They stare at my large nipples pushing out the fabric of my dress. I have to squeeze my vaginal muscles to keep the balls from falling out, which only causes them to hit each other and vibrate. I am in a daze, fighting to keep this orgasm from washing over me in front of these people. As we drive towards the coast, the woman pulls out her clipboard and starts asking me a series of questions.
"Have you had anything to eat since midnight?"
"No," I say. I feel the feathery touch of Brittany’s finger on the back of my neck.
"Are you allergic to any medications?"
"No," I say distractedly.
"Are you taking any medications now?"
"No," I frown. What's with all of these medical questions?
"Who should we contact in the case of any medical emergencies?"
Brittany pipes in, "The will be me."
"Please sign the consent forms," requests the lady.
Brittany whispers into my ear, "Don't worry, my pet, I forgot to fill out your medical history for the spa. It’s just a formality. Just sign the forms and we will be set."
