I concentrated on following the two glowing red tail lights of the car in front of me, and tried to ignore my rising nerves and rising cock. I wasn't entirely sure what Mistress had planned tonight, but it was going to be unusual. Just as I had pulled up in her driveway, my cellphone had rung. I had a text message from her: "Stay in the car, and follow." I had no idea where we were heading, or what we would be doing. The mystery, the fact that I did not know and could not control what was to happen next, was a big part of the excitement. All I knew for now was to follow Mistress's car, and obey her commands.
We left the highway, and seemed to be heading to one of the seedier parts of town. Not an out-and-out dive of an area, but certainly far from the vanilla-and-white-bread suburbia where we lived. It was an industrial area by day, and a haven for sex shops and brothels by night. I figured that, perhaps, we were headed for one of the sex shops to get some new toys. Boy, was I wrong. Eventually, she pulled into the parking lot next to one of the more upscale brothels in the area, the Silver Garter. Brothels always seem to have such campy names. Her car lights went out as I pulled in beside her.
Mistress got out of her car and walked over to mine. She was dressed like a wet dream come to life. Knee high black leather boots, with net stockings framing her legs up to the hemline of a short, tight denim skirt. She had a black, shiny, halter-neck top on, and rather than being tight to her body it fell in folds of fabric which were one big tease – they looked like they might fall away to expose her breasts any second, but they never did. Her makeup was exactly as I love it, right down to the red lipstick outlined with a thin darker line. She saw the impact she had on me and smiled wickedly as she commanded me to follow.
I did so, my eyes on her wiggling ass and the curve of her hips, which were pronounced by her stride in the high heeled boots. Yum. I wanted to throw her to the ground and fuck her right there in the carpark. I guess that was kind of the idea. But why were we here, at a brothel, instead of fucking like animals back at her place?
Mistress led me through the front door. Apart from the soft lighting and the pornographic painting on the wall, the reception area might have been from a doctor's suite. Very clean, very classy. Behind the desk sat an early forty-something blonde, a little too brassy and a little too ripe. She smiled a cute-but-fake smiled at us both as we entered. "Well hello to you. Welcome to the Garter. How can I help?"
Mistress smiled back at her. "My name's Amanda. If you're Christine, we spoke on the phone earlier?"
Abruptly, the woman's fake smile became genuine as she looked at Mistress. The smile became a look of derision, though, as she half turned to me. "This must be your pathetic little bitch, then. Hello, little whore."
I flushed bright red. The idea of people knowing I am a slave always excites me, but I am never quite prepared for it when it happens. "Good evening, Maam," I mumbled softly through my blush. She laughed and turned back to Mistress. "If you'd like to follow me?"
Mistress followed the woman, snapping her fingers for me to follow too. We went down the hallway, past a number of closed doors, from behind one of which drifted the unmistakable sounds of sex. Eventually, Christine opened a door and ushered Mistress inside, closing the door behind them and leaving me standing in the hallway. What was going on inside? What was going to happen next? As always, the mystery was killing me, and as always, I loved it.
After a couple of minutes, Christine emerged alone and looked at me, not bothering to hide her amusement. "You're to wait here, pussyslave, until your owner is ready for you."
My blush returned full force. "Yes Maam."
She laughed and wandered down the corridor, leaving me standing there alone, savoring the anticipation. Perhaps five minutes passed before the door finally opened. Mistress was still wearing the boots and stockings, but nothing else. Her breasts were bare, swinging gently as she moved ... and I could not see her pussy, because she wore her favorite strap-on harness, permanently hard dildo jutting obscenely out from her hips. "Come in here, slave," she said softly.
I entered and looked around the room. It was odd, almost like the bedroom of a motel suite, but somehow slightly tackier, as though nobody was ever expected to take in the details. I guess not too many customers did. It was perfect for us, though. The excitement of fucking somewhere nasty, like a brothel, but not somewhere too nasty. As always at the start of a session, I dropped to my knees to kiss her feet ... her boots, today. She allowed me to rise, then instructed me to undress. In short order I was naked, and kneeling before her again. "Now," she said, "I know you are a good little pussylicker. Show me whether you can be my good little cocksucker too."
My eyes widened a little. I leaned forward, opening my mouth, and she pressed her hips towards mine. I'd never thought much before about how to give head. I had never had the need. I decided to try to blow Mistress's cock in the way I like to be blown. I started with lots of little licks and kisses, over the tip of the dildo, up and down its shaft, occasionally sucking on the shaft sideways. For five minutes or so I teased and played with the vibe with my mouth, never yet sucking it. Mistress was obviously enjoying the show. Her hands cupped her breasts as her thumbs flicked her nipples. She kept up a regular patter of embarrassing but sexy comments ... "Oh, yes, slave, lick your Mistress's cock. Mmmm, just like that, little cocklicker."
