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Gordon was seated at his desk deeply involved in the analysis of several stocks displayed on his computer screen. His pager beeped and he glanced at the number showing on the display. It was Mistress Florence. He returned her call immediately with his cell phone. Florence answered using a scrambler device to prevent anyone from listening in to her telephone calls. Her caller ID told her it was Gordon returning her page. "Speak Slave," she said.
"You paged me Mistress. What may I do for you?" Gordon responded.
"I'm having some friends for cocktails and dinner this evening. They will arrive promptly at six thirty p.m., so you must be ready. To save time, I'm sending you, by courier, some things to wear. I want you to put everything on, under your suit, just as soon as you receive them. I will expect you to be home no later then six o'clock.
"Alteisha is preparing dinner and you must be there in time to greet our guests, serve the cocktails and serve dinner to our guests. The courier should arrive within minutes. Even though you still have several hours to work, I want you to put on the things I'm sending you, just as soon as the courier leaves," Florence hung up without waiting for an acknowledgment, or a goodbye.
Gordon was uneasy, but returned to his analysis, even as he heard someone talking to his secretary, Maureen. "Mr. Phillips, there is a courier here with a package for you. He says that he must get your personal signature on the receipt," Maureen said on the intercom.
"Send him in, Maureen," Gordon told her. A tall black man, in a courier's uniform, entered Gordon's office carrying a package. Gordon recognized him immediately. It was Robert. "Hello," said Gordon, without using any name recognition. Robert smiled and nodded hello as he gave the package to Gordon and offered the receipt pad for signature. Gordon quickly signed the receipt, and returned to his computer.
Robert left right away. Maureen asked Gordon if she should open the package for him, but he declined, asking her to shut the door behind her as she left. When he was alone Gordon quickly locked his office door and opened the package. It contained his net cock and ball restraint, the butt plug, a thin leather collar with a chain, a pair of crotchless frilly panties, net stockings, a garter belt, brassiere with openings for his nipples and his maids uniform.
Gordon undressed and swiftly put on the clothes Mistress Florence had sent him. The butt plug was difficult to insert without lubricant, but he improvised by using his saliva to provide some lubrication. Even with the saliva, the plug felt as though it was dry and Gordon suffered to fully insert it into his ass, but at last it was done. Gordon attached the chain to the ring on the net cock and balls restraint, through the butt plug ring and then to the leather collar about his neck. He put on his shirt, tie, and suit over his maid's uniform. Fully dressed, Gordon placed his male underwear in his briefcase, unlocked his door and returned to his work.
The butt plug was even more uncomfortable in his office environment, than when wearing it at home. Sitting directly on it drove it deep into his ass, causing discomfort during the course of his work. More vexing than the butt plug was the cock and ball restraint, which kept pulling at his genitals with every movement he made. The chain pulled harshly at his cock and balls and the butt plug, each time he moved.
Mistress Florence had deliberately made the chain shorter than usual to add to his discomfort, thus reminding him of who was in control. No matter, he relished his role. It was not a 'predicament', as some might think. For Gordon it was total liberation from the concerns and misgivings of daily life. His existence was now the concern of his Mistress, who knew far better than he, what he needed to be happy. What she required of him was love, devotion, obedience and worship of his Mistress. She would provide everything else necessary. He was totally content.
Exactly at five forty five p.m., Gordon shut down his computer, grabbed his briefcase and left his office for the weekend. He told Maureen to have a nice weekend and hurried to the elevator. Maureen followed closely behind him as he left and joined him in the elevator. She smiled at him as they descended the twelve stories to the garage below.
"Mr. Phillips," she began, "What are your plans for this weekend? I hear the weather will be gorgeous, will you be going to the beach?" He became surprised and slightly uncomfortable at her asking into his activities. Usually, she was pretty closed mouthed and private, but he shrugged it off with his answer.
"No. I will stay home," he replied curtly, but courteously.
"I'm going to the beach with some girl friends," said Maureen, in a tone that he sensed she was not too thrilled about her weekend plans.
"Sounds like a fun weekend," Gordon said, just to make some small talk until they reached the garage level.
"I guess," she sighed. "Nothing exciting, but something to do at least. I guess it's better than nothing."
"Oh," replied Gordon, "there are an infinite variety of things that are better than nothing, Maureen."
"Well I wish some of them would happen to me," she said as the elevator halted. They entered the garage and walked to their cars. Gordon pondered Maureen's comment. He wondered if she might somehow need a change in her life, similar to the change he had undergone. He smiled at her as he stopped at his car, which was parked near hers.
"Have a great weekend, Maureen. See you Monday," he started the car, waved goodbye, pulled out of the parking space and drove away. As he left the city and drove towards the house of his Mistress he wondered about the evening and the humiliation he would happily suffer at the hands of the guests. He was excited about providing every service that could be asked of him. Hopefully they might even allow him to cum tonight. He hadn't had an orgasm for nearly two weeks. Mistress Florence did not think he deserved to cum, judging from the marginal performances he had provided his Mistress. He still bore the welts across his ass from the whippings they had administered each night, but orgasm had always been denied him. Perhaps tonight he thought.
Gordon turned into the driveway and pulled into the garage. He entered the house and went up the back staircase to his room. There he removed his outer clothing to reveal the maids uniform he wore underneath. He placed a pair of four-inch pumps on his feet and sat at the mirror to put on his lipstick. The door opened and Alteisha entered his room. "Hurry, Gordeeva, Mistress is waiting. It's nearly six o'clock."
She took the lipstick from him and clasped his chin in her hand. "Here, let me do that." And she finished painting his lips bright red. Her robe parted slightly and Gordon could tell that she was naked except for her collar, nipple and cunt rings and the little bells attached to them. He could hear the bell's muffled ringing under her robe, as she finished putting lipstick on him.
Gordon followed Alteisha to the kitchen to layout the wine and spirits that would be needed for cocktails. He placed various cheeses, finger sandwiches and fruits on silver trays and arranged other snacks in bowls and on decorative plates. He checked everything again to be sure everything was ready. He did not want to cause his Mistress any embarrassment in front of her guests. As he worked, he heard the kitchen door open behind him. It was Mistress Florence. She looked at him haughtily, then at his refreshment preparation. "Everything seems to be in order, 'Gordeeva'." She said curtly. "They should be here any minute. You will answer the door, place their wraps in the front closet and show them in." She turned and left.
The doorbell rang and it concerned Gordon. He had never been a 'maid' to anyone other than his Mistress, Alteisha and Robert. He was uncomfortable and wondered if he would be ridiculed by the guests. Perhaps he would not be able to go through with this tonight. After all, he had been required to do, he was puzzled why his Mistress would want to hold him up to such ridicule in front of her friends. Quickly, dismissing any second thoughts about his situation, he knew that if he balked at anything Mistress asked of him, she would dismiss him permanently. He couldn't bear the thought of not being submissive to her every whim.