Work clothes
I look around the room in amazement. It is very well appointed, beautiful, feminine. Lovely colorful antique furniture, flowers in vases everywhere, velvet draperies, marble statues... it's gorgeous, elegant. The scent of lilac wafts through the room. Love songs play on a stereo softly in the background.
I expected dark mahogany or dreary gray stone, torture devices, black iron manacles hanging from wall rings. I'm stunned and slowly kneel not knowing what to make of all this. I do have the presence of mind to kneel like I should sitting back on my heels, legs spread wide, back straight, shoulders back, boobs thrust out. I twist my hands a bit in my manacles wondering if I'm going to be unshackled.
Then I notice another Mistress lounging on a fabulous velvet upholstered settee. She's languidly reclining on the plushiest piece of furniture I ever saw, Her one arm casually over the back, Her one leg cocked so you can see "everything." I admire Her slinky neglige, pastel shimmery blue satin. So relaxed. So dreamy. She oozes sex too. I practically drip.
She places Her hands on the surface of the settee to rise sensuously, a very feline graceful flow. I AM dripping now. It trickles down my thigh.
"What's THAT my love?" She asks of the latex-clad Domme, nodding toward me, "That's not what I ordered."
"Darling, that's the best they had. We'll have to make do," The Mistress in red replies soothingly.
I realize then I'm with two Dommes in love, in Their boudoir. I wonder what They want with me but keep silent and in perfect position of course.
The one in blue lingerie sashays over to me so erotically I wonder if She's had slave training. She lightly runs her fingertips across my shoulder. She lifts my hair. She strokes my cheek. I quiver with desire for more but hold position as I know I must.
"Alright Carolyn," She says reluctantly, "We can use her anyway."
"Oooo!" I think."Red must be Carolyn."
"Stand slave," She says not too cruelly or imperiously, but as if She expects instant obedience anyway. I stand.
She takes my leash from Carolyn and walks me to stand between two upright pillars. I see the manacles and think, "Oh. OK. This is more normal." I hold my arms away from my back to make it easier for Her. I notice that even the manacles are feminine and pretty. They look like silver bangle bracelets and the chain is cute and light like a necklace. I like them. I do want to look pretty.
In everyday fashion, She closes a cuff on my right wrist, then unshackles my heavy right manacle. She lifts my arms to close the other pretty light cuff around my left wrist before She removes my other heavy manacle. I was never out of restraints for even a second. Then She removes my collar. I understand completely and expect this. Slaves are always, constantly, without exception in some sort of restraint. I'm locked into something before my collar or whatever is unlocked. I'm sure it's a Clitoris Alliance regulation for Dommes. I wouldn't know though because I've certainly never read anything for Mistresses. They must have a "Helpful Hints & Pet Tricks" booklet in a desk drawer somewhere I bet.
The blue lingerie Mistress tugs and adjusts my chains. I hear ratchets click as my arms are raised. Of course the ratchets must be locking. I can not lower my arms when I tug against the pretty cuffs. I just stand there meekly, now with my arms straight out and up from my shoulders.
"Nance, do you have all the batteries charged?" Carolyn asks.
"Yes darling. The outfit is fully operational and checked," the Mistress in blue lingerie states... who probably is Nancy if She's called "Nance" by Her lover.
Then I realize what's probably going to happen me. The Clitoris Alliance "Restraint Technology & Fashion Team" makes oodles of outfits, mainly for slaves, that are beautiful but also full of motorized sex toys. They're all the wildest erotic fetish fashion-wear but also have hundreds of tiny batteries and electronic devices built into them. Like those little coin-sized batteries in watches but all wired together and controlled by computer chips. I don't understand all of this but I've worn this suff a gazillion times.
They both walk away and return quickly with arm loads of slick shiny black rubber.... something. I can't tell what yet.
Nancy casually shakes out a pair of latex hose. She sprinkles talcum powder in Her hands and applies it to my legs in a mater-of-fact fashion. I keep my eyes straight ahead. Of course She can do whatever She wants with me and this is surprisingly pleasant. Now I see why only my wrists are cuffed and I'm standing there like a cross between a "T" and a "Y."
"Lift your right leg slave," She says very plainly. I obey. She rolls black latex hose up my right leg, tugs it up, and smooths it nicely. "Now your left" and again I obey. In seconds I'm wearing really cool shiny black hosiery. It feels nice.
"Lift your right leg again slave," and She slips a glossy patent leather ballet boot on my foot. She laces it tight. At the top there is a buckle that covers the laces. I hear it click when She closes it. I know immediately it is a lock buckle. She does the same to my left foot and I obey without hesitation. Now I'm about seven inches taller. I teeter on my toes, grateful that my cuffs and chains make it easy to stand but I still step around a bit trying to stay steady.