"Yes, Ms. Deborah..." I almost stammer, "I think the kind of procedure I'm here for today is called a 'Prince Albert.'"
Her pretty blue eyes grow very wide as she stares at me. She blinks at me once, twice- maybe four times... She knits her eyebrows.
Finally, she shakes her head a little- flipping her amazing hair. She says, "That's a piercing I can only do on a... on a man... Did you mean to say clitoral or vulva piercing?"
I look over and see a deliciously satisfied smirk cross your face at Deborah's honest confusion.
"My Buttercup... Hmmmhmhmhmhm... Well actually, Ms. Debbie, you will find she does indeed have the right equipment for a 'Prince Albert,'" you snicker.
For some reason, both Ms. Deborah and I seem to be blushing with the same amount of red-cheeked embarrassment, but she quickly falls into step with your game.
"Oh!? Ok! Well! ... That's a very serious decision, Ms. B, I'll have to walk you through a full disclosure and have you sign a waiver that releases me... from any liability." She says, attempting to change our mood to a somber one.
"Oh please don't make my Buttercup more nervous than she already is. Can't you tell she's practically terrified?!" You ask in an attempt to reel me back, "She's very protective of her little... prince... Tell her that you're the best at this- that you've done this dozens of times and never had one complaint- tell her it's going to feel amazing once it's healed."
"I honestly don't know how it will feel for you," she says, "I can confirm that I've never gotten any negative feedback from my dozen-or-so clients that I've done this procedure for, but most of those guys I think were motivated by a submissive or masochistic kind of thing... The pain seemed to be a... positive turn on for them."
"What else can you tell us?" You encourage her to keep selling me.
"Hmmm. Well I guess I've been intimate with one guy who had that piercing done and it felt truly amazing inside me. I personally wish more guys were brave enough to do it- or girls...too..." She catches herself.
Foolishly I allow my gaze to drop down to Ms. Deborah's crotch. She's wearing the tightest grey yoga pants I've ever seen. Her pants- sweet Jesus! They leave very little up to my imagination. And though it might just be my imagination, I think I see a little dark discoloration around her quite-obvious camel toe. Was it that dark when we came in?
She catches me in the act of crotch gazing and now an accusatory smile is on her lips.
"I guess my question for you, Ms. B, is this: are you a true submissive? Do you crave to be completely under your dominant's control? Does it make your little heart race? If you have any doubts or reservations about serving your dominant completely then maybe this procedure isn't for you- yet," with her sexy delivery and staring intently at me with her piercing blue eyes she lays down the gauntlet.
I am at a loss for words.
"I am... my Queen's pet!" I say after a very long pause. I sound especially stupid to myself using such flowery language here in front of this hot young friend of yours. I immediately turn to you seeking approval- or backup.
You raise your eyebrow considerately, "You have been rising to the occasion very well today, my Buttercup, but I'm afraid Ms. Deborah has no way of knowing how you're so loyal and dedicated to me. She has no idea what has transpired between us over the last 24 hours. Let's show her some proof. Let's make a demonstration of your transformation. I think it would be appropriate for you to give her some kind of show right here and now... Ms. Deborah, would you be so kind as to draw the blinds and lock the front door?"
Ms. Deborah crosses the room with a growing smile on her face like she knows THIS is going to be sweet. She bends over like a ballet dancer to twist the lock at the bottom of the door frame. She dances to each set of blinds twisting the wands to obscure us from any would-be voyeurs.
"Alright!" she says as she shutters the last blind smiling an almost-perverted smile, "Now that there's no chance we'll be interrupted, I'm prepared to be amazed."
"Okay! Hmmmmmm... Buttercup," you address me sternly now, "When was the last time you went tinkle? Answer me... honestly."
I find that there is no spit in my suddenly-dry mouth, but I begin reflexively and gulp, "Yes, my Queen, I believe the last time was in... Ms. Jessica's studio."
"Were you sitting down on the toilet when you did that tinkle?" you continue your ironic condescension as you walk a few steps and put your arm around my waist and rest your other hand on my shoulder.
Your questions are sending me into a strange kind of reverie- strange because I find myself growing aroused thinking about being made to pee in that diaper right in front of an attractive woman. My penis is growing against its cage again. While the pee was still warm, she had removed my diaper and inspected it. To my amazement, something that had been so excruciating to bear less than two hours ago was now causing me to go blind with desire just to re-call it.
You whisper in my ear so that Deborah can't hear you, "I can feel your cum still inside me... maybe I'll make you lie down so I can drizzle it into your mouth while Deborah watches."
I shudder as you read my face to see what kind of effect you've elicited. I just gasp. My mouth hangs open.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhuh."
I wonder if that was a command or not- you only said, 'maybe.' So I remain standing.
Now- out loud- you ask, "How exactly did you go pee at Ms. Jessica's studio?"
"I... I went in my... I went in my diaper, my Queen."
I'm looking only at you, but I can hear Ms. Deborah snicker a surprised snicker at my answer. As if ignoring her reaction you continue, "Yes you did- like a good little girl... I know it made Ms. Jessica feel very happy that you obeyed her, and it makes me feel very happy that you showed such respect to one of my dear friends."
"Are you still wearing a diaper now?" Ms. Deborah ventures in a giggly playful inquisition of her own.
I sigh, "Uhhhhhh... Yes, Ms. Deborah."
"Show her, Buttercup," you command, but instead of waiting for me to obey you- you simply lift high the hem of my sundress.
