She paced the room in anticipation - naked. Walking back and forth, her eyes darted anxiously over to the phone waiting for it to ring. She had been given strict orders to be nude next to the phone. When the ring came, she would be given the rest of the orders that she would fulfill before her trip downtown. Nervous, she stopped and looked at herself in the mirror at her body – her breasts full and pert, her ass curvaceous. She examined very square inch of her olive-toned body, waiting for her new Master to call.
Master. This was a word she never thought she would ever use to address anyone. But ever since the phone calls from San Francisco began nine months ago, she fell into his seductive voice. The authoritative, slightly rasped tone that gave her instructions on what to do in every phone call would soon consume her - as she had never thought before she took up a job as a phone sex operator. She took the job as a way of making ends meet and thought it would a source of entertainment and a way to support her creative flair for the arts, as she spoke with distant strangers into the night about sexual innuendos they had been involved in, or that she had done herself. But never would anyone make her pussy as moist, never would a man make her want to get on her knees and beg for his cock to enter into her mouth as much as the stranger from San Francisco.
The phone rang, and a hot flash pulsated down her spine as she quickly picked up the receiver.
"Hello –," she said breathlessly.
"I am here now, I want you to meet me downtown at the hotel. I want you in strappy high heel shoes, pink lip gloss and you have to wear pink panties – the lacy kind."
"Yes, sir," she replied, feeling her pulse quicken, the sweat beading up on her skin.
"I don't want you to be late, come as quickly as possible, pack for the night. And you already know what to do once you get to the hotel. I am in room 115," he said sternly.
He hung up the phone and she went to her drawer to pick out the pink panties interweaved with a delicate lace. She slid them on and it hugged - clinging to her fleshy ass. She then went to the closet and picked out some shoes with leather straps and proceeded to carefully tie up and knot them. She glided over to the mirror and saw the shoes perked her ass up, making it more presentable. It advertised the need to be penetrated. To be disciplined.
She touched up her make-up and put the most important component on her face: lip gloss that would bring out the pink in her lips, making them appear bigger, making them appear inviting for a swelled cock to enter.
A trench coat hung on a door hook and she put it on, tying the belt around her waist, accentuating her figure. She threw the gloss into a handbag, along with her keys and dashed out the front door to make her way to the bus stop down the street.
The October air was damp and cool as she felt the crisp, biting breeze flow underneath her coat, making her nipples harden as they poked through the thin, black trench coat. A man passed by, nodding at her, but his gaze locked into her protruding round bumps of flesh. She crossed her arms in attempt to hide them as the man revealed a smile that masked the thoughts of sexual encounters with the girl.
The bus came up the road and came to a squealing halt, the door swung open in a puff of hot air, lifting her trench coat up enough for the pedestrians passing by to see her legs underneath. She boarded the bus and walked carefully down the aisle where she could feel eyes burning into her. A man with a coarse, black beard and eyes as black as onyx looked at her legs as his penetrable stare smoothly moved up her body. She slid into the empty seat adjacent to him, feeling naked as only a thin trench coat separated her and the men who stared. She felt a small, helpless prey among the hungry dogs who craved and hunted strange and new pussy.
Her thoughts wandered as she watched houses, people and trees blur by her window. Rain began to bead and stream down the windows as she pondered why she became so submissive. What was it that made her want to eagerly please him? This was not just a mere fantasy on her part, but something that she craved to do for him. She always knew, deep inside the recesses of her mind, that she was submissive but it had lay dormant for years until a few phone calls from her Master had brought it to surface. She knew, psychologically, that to be submissive meant the need to want to please, to be used. And to eagerly serve, rather than be served. To be submissive meant to be passionate about serving and pleasing the Master. And that intense willingness to serve and the feelings of love crossed and blurred lines. She knew he loved him. But that, she knew, could only go so far.
The bus came to a stop at her destination downtown: The William Penn Hotel. She walked into the entrance of the hotel where the lobby was immaculate and lined with marble tiling. She walked to the elevator where businessmen and women were waiting for their floor and she suddenly felt like a whore. She came to this realization when she saw the rest of the women there fully dressed in business suits of black and navy blue, and they wore coats over that. Maybe underneath, she thought, they had on sexy lingerie or thigh high stockings, but they did not have just a thin coat of stitched fabric separating them from outside world.
She boarded the elevator and made her way to the first floor where she searched for room 115. She walked briskly down the hallway past fifteen identical red doors when she found it: her Master's room. Panic ensued through her system as she had fleeting thoughts of turning around and leaving. But she was already here and knew the orders that she must fulfill.
She quickly looked around and saw no one approaching in the hallway. She took off her coat and it dropped to the floor – crumpling around her ankles. She knelt down on her knees and knocked on the tall, red door. Her breasts were full, and her nipples were still hard from the cool Pittsburgh air. Her hands were behind her back, her head down as her dark, bobbed hairstyle wrapped around the soft features of her face.
