"Come slave," he said as he leaned towards me to remove the collar that connected me to his bedpost from my neck.
I looked up; semi dazed, eyes still aching with sleep, as I fought against my body to a kneeling position at the top of his bed. He didn't touch me, except for the brief moment his fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he manipulated the buckle. But he was still close enough for me to feel the warmth of his body, to smell the scent of his skin. I resisted the urge to rub my nose into his neck. No... I would be an obedient slave today. My last infraction was met with a swift response and I was still very sore from this morning's punishment. He had made me pay dearly for touching him without permission. The welts on my back were now a reddish purple, not too obvious on my dark mahogany skin, but still visible. In his kindness, he had allowed me to sleep on my stomach, saving me from what could have been a very painful and sleepless night. So I fought the urge to nuzzle him, felt it surge within me and then dissipate.
"Where are we going Master?" I asked meekly. I rubbed my eyes as he made his way to the far corner of his bedroom, where my suitcase had taken post for the last two days. I was not allowed to touch it. Not since I first stepped into his house. Three seconds hadn't passed after I walked through his door when he ordered me to drop my suitcase. Taken aback slightly, I did as I was told. I opened my mouth, ready to exchange the normal greetings and pleasantries one would go through with someone you'd never met except online, only to have him place his index finger on my lips.
"Go upstairs to the bedroom, strip and kneel on the bed."
I stared at him in disbelief, but I dare not utter a word in protest. In our very first conversation he had told me he was a strict master, and as our online relationship progressed he had shown me as much. For six months, every sarcastic comment I made was met with an immediate punishment. The more impudent I was, the more pain I was made to put myself through. But even so, I was still unprepared for his brashness. I did as I was told and knelt on his bed, watching him in a half- humiliated, half- petrified state as he place the suitcase in its temporary home. From that moment I had remained nude and chained to his bed, only allowed to roam free for showers and bathroom breaks, or to do some odd chore like cooking or cleaning. In this case, it was for an outing. I waited patiently for him to answer my question as I watched him meticulously go through my clothes. He swung two items over his shoulder, zipped up the suitcase and walked back towards me.
"We're going to the store my pet. I'm afraid Master's cupboards are quite bare."
He gently laid a blue halter top that ended just above my pierced navel and a blue denim miniskirt on the bed next to where I was kneeling.
"Now, off you go and get dressed."
I looked down at the clothing beside me and then looked back at him. He saw the question in my eyes before I had even parted my lips.
"What is it?"
He peered at me. Piercing grey eyes coupled with boyish good looks did nothing to hide the look of impatience he had. I hesitated slightly, wondering if I should just forget about it and just do as I was told. But, in my childlike curiosity, I could not let the question pass.
"But Master, what about underwear?"
His face morphed in an instant; and soft, sweet, angelic looks gave way to the scowl of disapproval that now engulfed his face.
"Did I put underwear there slave?" His eyebrows dipped even lower.
I closed my eyes and mentally chastised myself for my stupidity.
"No Master, sorry Master."
"You're not sorry now, trust me. I'll show you sorry tonight. Now, no more questions slave, get dressed!"
I winced at the thought of being punished again. Ah well... yet another night on my stomach.
Ten minutes later we were walking to his car. The evening was cold. Even as the last few rays of sunlight flooded the sky with shades of orange and amber, the wind blew like it was dead midnight. I walked a step behind him, my long legs trying to keep pace with his, clutching at the hem of the skirt, embarrassed at how exposed I felt. I didn't mind my cleavage too much; my pretty D's were nestled snuggly, just peeking out of the bust line of the halter. The skirt on other hand was proving to be intolerable and the absence of any panties made things even worse. I now regretted packing the damned thing. I fought desperately with it, tugging and pulling as every step I took raised the skirt higher and higher, threatening to expose my bare bottom to the people that made their way down the street. Master looked back as he opened the door for me and chuckled to himself as he watched me make on last ditched effort to tame the skirt.
"Leave it alone Angel." He had used my nickname instead of the usual "slave", a sure sign that my struggle with the runaway skirt had put him in a pleasant mood. "Get in the car."
I obeyed and tried as best I could to expose as little of my bare behind as possible while getting into the car. We drove to a store about fifteen minutes away and parked just a few feet from the entrance. Master then turned and looked at me.
"Slave, do you promise to be good?"
I nodded my head. "Yes master."
"Do you love me? Would you do anything I asked you to do?" I answered yes again without hesitation, fearful that any pause would add to the list of offences that I had already committed thus far.
He brought his left hand to my face and caressed my cheek before slowly weaving his fingers into my hair. A slight moan escaped my lips as I felt a warm trickle of moisture between my legs. It amazes me to this day how his mere touch was able to make me so wet. He slowly pulled my head back, leaving my neck vulnerable to his tongue, which was now tracing little circles up to my ear. I groaned as I bit my lip, trying hard not to grab onto his back, his hair, any part of him I could. By the time he began to nibble on my earlobe, my inner thighs were soaked and I was sitting in a small pool of my own juices. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of me, which by now had engulfed the car.
"Mmmm, you're such a dirty little slut." He cooed. He spread my legs and slowly inserted a finger into my throbbing pussy, took it out and pushed it to my lips. "Lick it clean."
I eagerly took his finger into my mouth, enjoying the taste of my own pussy, licking and sucking until I could no longer taste myself on his finger.
"You filthy whore...you like to swallow your own cunt juice don't you?"
I nodded and let his finger slip from my lips, "Yes Master..."
"Good slave, now come along."
He got out of the car, came around to my side and opened the passenger side door for me. A wave of my own scent hit me once more as I took the first step out of the car and as I stood up, little streams of my own wetness trickled down my thighs. It now dawned on me why he had done what he did. The episode in the car now made sense. He had meant for me to go into the store horny and dripping wet for all to see. He saw the spark of realization on my face and smiled as I glared at him. He knew that I knew. I lowered my head, dreading the fate that now awaited me inside that building, imagining how the people inside would stare at me. My stomach churned as he held the door open for me. There was no backing out, no arguing, no pleading... just obedience.
Thankfully, inside the store wasn't as crowded as I had anticipated. Master took a shopping cart and motioned me to follow him. Through the aisles we went. He would point to something and I, being the good little slave that I was, would go and get it. Every now and again someone would look in my direction, and whenever that happened, he'd raise my skirt to expose the wisp of curly dark pubic hair on my moistened and quivering snatch. I would stand there, humiliated and horny, caught between cursing the day I had left Barbados to come here and the ever rising desire to have my Master order me to bend over and spread my sopping wet pussy open so he could fuck me right there for all to see.
The women looked away in disgust; the men stared in shock and fascination. Master enjoyed both reactions, while I hung my head in shame. As we turned through another aisle, a young woman nudged her boyfriend and whispered something into his ear. He glanced over at me and Master and muffled a laugh.
"Looks like they want a show slave" he said "and you'll give them one. Turn around."
I looked up and turned my back to the couple. Master moved in close to me and placed his hand underneath my skirt. He teasingly rubbed my clit and he whispered into my ear.
"I want you to bend down, and pick up a box of cereal from the bottom shelf, pretend like your reading it for five seconds and then come back up. Do you understand me slave?"
My pussy was clenching and throbbing like crazy. The urge to move my hips back and forth against his hand was overpowering. I bit down hard on my left hand, reminding myself over and over that any movement I made without first seeking permission would not go well for me. Once again my juices trailed down my legs.
"Yes master."
I did as I was told, bending over to expose my wet mound to the young couple. I didn't see when the young girl started to point. I didn't see her boyfriend's face flush red as he stood there, mouth agape, staring stupidly at my wet pussy as I pretended to read the cereal box. I did, however, hear the sound of her hand connect with his face as she began to rant and rave about him being a pig. When I turned to look at the couple, the young girl was screaming at her boyfriend and pointing in my direction. I managed to make out the word 'whore' as she stormed off, boyfriend trailing behind her.
At that moment, all the blood drained from my face. The humiliation and shame flooded through me as I tried to hold back the tears that were welling up in my eyes. Master stared at me and for a brief moment I saw a wave of concern emanate from him.
"Now there'll be no crying, you've got an admirer." He motioned with his head to the man at the end of the aisle, who was now pretending to decide between two boxes of cereal.
He was young, in his late twenties or so. His blond hair was almost shoulder length but trimmed and well kept. He looked at me again, long enough for me to notice his emerald green eyes. He was extremely handsome, any girls fantasy. He gave me the slightest of smiles, before glancing at the man beside me. He looked back to me once more before placing the smaller box of cereal into his shopping cart.
