"You can't call it that," I told her.
"Yes I can, it's a great title," she retorted.
"But everything you have told me so far is not amusing, apart from your master getting a smack on the arse from the machine, that was funny. He punished you for laughing."
"Yes he did," she giggled.
"And I can't see you bursting into song while you are being abused. Although dancing girls high kicking past as you have your arse smacked is a picture I find difficult to unsee."
"I still love the title, so we keep it," she insisted.
"I don't know if we can be sued under the trade's description act but if you insist so be it."
So dear reader I am transcribing Jules' muses for her and if they are not amusing and not musical don't blame me.
This happened when I was first with my current master. I had been cast adrift by a very sadistic owner, that is very sadistic by my criteria. He was going to cause me serious injury the way we were going. He realised that and threw me out.
Wearing just stockings, heels and a coat he took me to the mall. It was the middle of the day and the mall was busy. He ushered me into the men's toilet and into a cubical. Removing my coat he pushed me down so I was on my knees staring at his crotch. I quickly unzipped his fly and took his cock in my mouth.
He grabbed my hair with both hands and pulled me onto his now hard cock. Basically he fucked my mouth, I was used to it and didn't gag. He pulled me away and shot over my tits. He lifted me up, pulled my head back and kissed me, long and hard, being careful to not get any cum on his fancy suit.
He put his hand in his pocket and produced a key which he put in my mouth. Picking up my coat he walked out. "Goodbye slut," he said and left the cubicle door open. There were four men all looking at me, so I quickly closed the door.
Bastard, he fucking loves doing this. Look on the bright side, I've not got filthy words written all over me inviting all and sundry to fuck me and more. I looked at the key, it was a locker key and the lockers were downstairs.
I took my stockings off, one I wrapped around my waist and between my legs, it covered my pussy. The other one went around my tits, at least covering my nipples. Should I wear my shoes and strut out or carry them and run? I suspect that my 'clothing' would come off if I ran so I opened the cubicle door to be faced by seven or eight men all waiting for me to come out. My pussy was creaming.
I posed, smiled at them, lifted my tit covering stocking up to give them a flash and headed for the door. As I strutted out, one gentleman offered me his coat, putting it around my shoulders. I tugged it closed and he put his arm around my shoulders.
"Where are you going, my slut?" he whispered.
What right had he to call me his slut? "The lockers, sir," automatic response calling him sir. What the fuck is happening?
We reached the lockers and found the one I needed. It was a small one which contained an envelope full of money, a card with goodbye on it and another key. So this is it, we are finished. I'm not too upset because I think I would have been severely injured if he had carried on getting his thrills off me.
The other key fitted a large locker which contained three suitcases. "What now?" asked my saviour.
"I don't know," I said.
"Come to my car and I will take you wherever you want to go." He said it in such a way that it was more an order. Shivers down my spine. I had nowhere to go so I decided to book in at a nearby Premier Inn. I could make some decisions over the next few days.
He took two suitcases and I took the other and we made our way to the carpark. He had a posh car, a Jaguar. It reminded me of when we got a new headmistress from down south who was determined that we should all speak properly. She had the whole school saying 'faaaarther's car is a jaaaaarguaaaar'. My dad's car was a push bike.
"There you are, that's funny," Jules said to me.
"Okay my sides are splitting." I said. I don't think she noticed the sarcasm.
Anyway I booked a room and the cavalier who helped me carried my cases came in. I felt that I had to offer him a cup of tea.
"You'll want to get dressed first," again his tone made it into a direction. I almost said yes sir but managed to bite my tongue. I opened a suitcase and found dresses neatly laid out. I went to walk into the bathroom.
"Don't be silly, I've already seen it all, put it on here." I stopped, removed his coat and pushed the stockings that were preserving my modesty down. Smiling, I put the dress on and then I put the kettle on. The dress suited me better! (amusing)
He sat in the chair and I sat on the bed and we drank our tea. "I suppose we should introduce ourselves, I'm Jules," I said.
"I'm Ron, but you can call me master," he said smiling.
"And if I don't want a new master?"
"But you do," the fucking bastard knows I do.
"Am I not allowed to choose?"
"No, you are mine,"
"On whose say so?"
