Cool air??
I want to pull my blanket around me. I must have rolled over in my sleep and lost it. I don't want to wake up. It's too early.
I go to reach out for where I guess my blanket is and discover I can't. I feel unyielding steel rub the sides of my wrists and ankles, hear the little clink sound of links of chain as I try to move. My arms are behind my back? I can't straighten my legs? I hear more jingling of chains as I squirm uncertainly.
I reluctantly open my eyes. My eyelids flutter getting used to the light.
Turning my head to look around, I see I'm laying on my left side, hogtied with shackles on the floor of the two Mistress' sitting room. My collar slides a little against my throat as I turn my head. I'm facing the settee, sort of half angled toward the front door to my right. "Oh! I'm collared again and naked too," I realize and squirm a bit. My leash chain jingles. I see it drape down from under my chin and that's it's laying across the carpet, hanging down from a ring on the front of the settee.
I'm fully awake now. I remember I must have passed out, almost suffocated. I wonder how long I was out? They must have undressed me. I'm still kind of sweaty so it couldn't have been that long ago. That's why I feel chilly.
I squirm around a bit in my strict hogtie. The slight jingle of my chains reassures me. my collar feels good. Everything's alright now. My collar is me, what and who i am. Being chained means i'm cared for.
I twist my wrists and ankles in my shackles. "Oh! They've got me in 'The Pretty Ones'" I think, quite pleased. That's what us slaves call them when we get a chance to talk together.
Clitoris Alliance Mistresses use all sorts of manacles and collars of course. To train a newbie or punish a bad girl there are heavy cast iron ones, three inches wide, a half inch thick. Cast iron is rough and hard on your skin, like coarse sandpaper. The chains can be massive, like you'd expect an anchor chain on a big boat to be. When you find yourself in those you know you've been bad and are being disciplined, or learn it quickly! They're heavy, very heavy, and always leave a rash where they rub your ankles, wrists, and throat. There are LOTS of types and how we are restrained is VERY meaningful to us.
But I'm in "The Pretty Ones." This makes me very happy. To be in these and collared again means They must have liked me. I smile. These are like smooth round bracelets almost. The chains are shiny with an adorable curb link, like a nice necklace. I know because my leash chain is that and They have a sense of "style," I'm sure it matches. I flip my hair around and move my head just to hear the pretty jingle." I must have done OK," I think. They must have been happy with me!" I'm quite pleased with myself.
The room is empty. Soft romantic music still plays in the background. I figure I've been parked for a while so I guess I have permission to move around. I struggle and squirm, wiggle up to the side of the settee, lean against it to get to my knees. My chains clink and jingle so prettily.
I flip my hair, puff out the side of my mouth to try to get it out of my eyes. I look around. "The stain on the carpet is gone," I notice. "I'm glad I did a good job." The bucket and vacuum and stuff is still there. "I hope They let me put that away for Them. This room is too elegant to be cluttered like this." I think, wanting nothing more than to finish my chore. I'd be embarrassed if a Mistress had to clean or pick up anything. I'd deserve a whipping.
Suddenly a thought crosses my mind, "Would They have permitted me to breathe if I had not cleaned the spill properly?" I shudder. My station in life makes me wonder in terror. I believe I had perhaps a 50/50 chance of being alive now. My tummy churns with pure fear. I realize that have no choice. This is life. I must do my best to obey with perfection to survive. Oddly, I find myself warm between my thighs again.
I cough. My mouth is dry. "I'll have to beg for a drink when a Domme comes back," I decide. I lick my lips. They're dry too. I wonder if it would be too bold to beg some lipstick, balm, gloss, or something.
The two Mistresses walk back into the room from what must be a dressing room off to my left, chatting pleasantly with each other. They have changed clothes and look fabulous! So dreamy!
Carolyn is in a gorgeous leather cat suit, cherry red again. "She must like reds," I decide. It has a gazillion laces and buckles so it fits Her purrrfectly. She looks so "Domme-y" I feel I ought to worship Her. She even wears a matching red bull whip on the belt slung low on Her hips. Her stiletto boots are to-die-for with their pointed toes and needle heels. My bosom heaves. I'm totally excited just looking at Her!
Nancy looks elegant. Wearing something almost like a cute feminine business suit except tan and beige latex and rubber, tailored for a lovely fit. Nice darker-taupe jacket over a bustier, beautiful light beige blouse, lovely calf-length skirt that matches the jacket, slick hosiery that matches the blouse, wicked shoes half like ballet shoes but not like what slaves wear, more like Oxfords. Very tastefully done. It all accents Her figure so well too. She looks delicious.
"Ah! The slave is awake." exclaims Nancy, talking to Carolyn as if it doesn't matter if I hear Her.
I'm not sure if I should try to kneel up pretty or what, but I see Them walk toward me so I wiggle and squirm to get down on my tummy so I can greet Them properly. I try to do it sensuously like we were taught. No grunts or grimacing allowed. Nancy stops a couple feet from me.
Squirming on my tummy rather like a snake, I get as close to Her as my leash allows. I flip my hair out of my eyes again and lick Her shoes slowly, carefully, with long lingering licks. I kiss all of Her shoe laces one at a time, then run my tongue around the edge of the sole in the front where I can reach.
She bends Her knees, twists slightly, squatting rather gracefully in my opinion, reaches down and caresses my hair, gently brushing it out of my eyes. I almost purr.
"Good girl," She says pleasantly.
I'm honored. I'm thrilled. She's so nice to me. I lick fervently, devoutly, very respectfully, eagerly.
She grabs a handful of my hair and drags me to my knees. That hurts of course but I don't mind. She's a Domme. I'm a slave. I expect this. It's just how we are handled.
She strokes my hair and looks at me. She must like my hair. I bet that's how I was selected today. I'm very proud She likes it. After looking me up and down, She actually smiles at me. I feel flushed. My pussy get sopping wet again.
But I'm also thirsty and hungry. I figure I could beg now.
"Mistress?" I whisper meekly, " May this slave speak please?"
She nods and ruffles my hair in a good natured way. "Yes, granted. What do you want slave?" She asks not cruel or nasty at all.
"Slave begs to be fed please Mistress. This girl is hungry and oh so dry," I beg softly, just above a whisper, my eyes down submissively, maybe a bit coy and seductive too, I hope. As I lower my head my hair cascades across my shoulder, down my bosom "all on it's own." I try not to grin, having manipulated that as cleverly as I could.
"Of course dear. Granted," Nancy says with a smile. Carolyn smiles too. i'm happy as a lark that I've apparently succeed at being sultry and seductive. The hundreds of whiplashes at my training are paying off!
Mistress Nancy slides Her hands under the back of Her skirt, bends gracefully at the knees, sits on the edge of the settee. She settles in comfortably and lifts Her skirt, leans back smiling.
I see immediately that She's as smooth and hairless as I am "down there." I'm a bit surprised that She uses pussy makeup just like a slave. Her labia lips are shiny pink with lip gloss. I'm impressed. Very pretty.
Mistress Carolyn pours Herself a glass of Pepsi over ice, reclines on the settee too, also smiling pleasantly. To enjoy the show I guess, my show.
