I was on loan, and certainly apprehensive about it.
Although I am a college teacher, I am also a submissive. My Mistress, whom I adore, gives me tasks to do from time to time. Five years ago, one of those tasks involved a student of mine whose name is Amanda. In her, Mistress saw the makings of a Dominant and wanted to help her develop her skills. At that time Mistress let Amanda practice on me, teaching her how to project the Voice, which causes submissives to obey as if programmed. The stories reporting that first interaction, and its consequences, have been told earlier. (see Class Time Ch. 02-03)
Now it had been a couple of years since I had a session with Miss Amanda. But she had called upon my Mistress two weeks ago. During the visit, she asked, "Can I please borrow your slut girl for an evening?"
"Perhaps," Mistress replied. "It has been quite a while since she has experienced anyone other than myself. What did you have in mind?"
"I am hosting a high school reunion party in my home, and I would like your girl to act as a maid for the evening."
"As a maid? Serving food and drinks? That sounds fairly mundane, Amanda. Have you fallen out of the habit of the kinky dominance that you demonstrated years ago?"
"Oh no! Quite the contrary!" Pointing at me, Miss Amanda continued, "In fact, the reason that I want this slut present at the party is to impress my high school friends by showing my control over this outwardly respectable college professor."
I felt the familiar sensation of a flush of humiliation spreading across my face as I heard these words. Inside me, the respectable college professor is always at war with the submissive slut whore. And Miss Amanda now apparently wanted to drag out that inner whore in front of an entire group of strangers – her high school classmates.
"Now that sounds more like the Amanda that I know," said Mistress approvingly. "Certainly you may use her services for this event."
The decision was made.
My heart moves me to try to please my Mistress and obey her in all things. That same heart was now pounding rather rapidly in my chest as I drove to Miss Amanda's house. I was dressed in what I thought to be a standard maid's outfit. I had a little white hat, a black silky blouse with plunging neckline, no bra, a short poofy skirt and black panties, a black garter belt attached to my netted stockings and intermediate height heels.
I tried to get the butterflies that were fluttering inside my stomach under control as I walked to Miss Amanda's front door, and rang the doorbell.
After a minute or two she opened the door. "You are punctual. That's a good start. Come in," she commanded. She led me to her living room where she examined me critically. The expression on her face was similar to that of a cat just before it pounces on a bird. She tilted and turned my face studying that my makeup met her approval. She checked that the white hat was secure in my hair. Her hands smoothed the material of my blouse over my breasts, causing me to shiver with undeniable pleasure from her touch. My nipples hardened, poking visibly against the silk that covered them. Miss Amanda nodded her approval as she tweaked them with her fingertips.
However, as she lifted my skirt she made sounds of disapproval. "Those panties will have to go. Give them to me."
Feeling a bit of heat in my face, I lowered them to my ankles and stepped carefully out of them. As I handed the wispy little garment to her, she lifted it to her nose, and inhaled. Pulling it away, she tucked it out of sight into her bra.
"Now, as to your duties this evening. The food is already prepared. You will circulate, serving my guests. When you serve, you will bend over, lowering the tray to offer it to each person. You will not bend your knees, but keep your legs straight as you bend over."
"But my skirt is so short, Miss!" I protested.
"You will do as you are told!" she rebutted. "Go into the bathroom and apply more of that crimson lipstick. It adds wonderfully to your slutty look."
Looking into the bathroom mirror, I carefully adjusted my lipstick. I took the opportunity to pee, since I had no idea if I would get a chance later in the evening. Noticing the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, I turned away from it and tried bending over as if I was serving. Sure enough, my short skirt rose well up exposing not only my ass cheeks but also my ass hole and pussy! I tried it again, this time pressing my thighs tightly together in an attempt to remain modest. This pose only succeeded in making my labia puff out obscenely between my clenched thighs. Sighing, I resolved myself to being a laughing stock for the evening.
The first guests began arriving. Miss Amanda greeted them at the door herself with hugs and occasional air kisses. Ushering them into the room, as hostess she took it upon herself to offer drinks. I stood self-consciously enduring their curious glances in my direction. Finally, with an exasperated tone, Miss Amanda snapped, "To the kitchen, girl! Start serving food!"
I hurriedly retrieved one of the large trays and returned to the room. By now, several guests were seated with their drinks. The first few times I bent over, my posterior was aimed at an empty section of the room. But then, the inevitable happened.
As I leaned over with my tray, from behind me I heard someone splutter and begin choking on their drink. Heads swiveled in that direction; people asking what happened. I heard whispered explanations, the word spreading around the room. Still bending and serving, I became aware of men saying, "Look! Look at her!" and "OMG!" The women were more inclined to gasp and make sounds of disapproval. People must've been pointing, because heads were now swiveling in my direction. I think I turned beet red with embarrassment. My face felt like it was on fire.
Miss Amanda moved to the head of the room, and called out to me, using the Voice. "Put that tray down over here, girl, and kneel next to me at my feet."
Murmurs rippled through the room as I obeyed, placing the tray in the place she had indicated, and then sinking to my knees alongside her.
"I think that it's time for an explanation," Miss Amanda addressed the other 10 people in the room. "When I was at college, I learned that one of my prim and proper female professors was the submissive in a D/s relationship. In case you are unfamiliar with that term, the 'D' stands for the Dominant and the 's' stands for the submissive in the relationship. I became aware of this during one class day when the professor's Dominant or Mistress observed her while she was teaching our class.
"Right before our eyes, this Mistress took verbal control of the professor using a strange quality of voice. The professor obeyed without even pausing to think, and ended up doing some very filthy and degrading things in our presence. The Mistress even had us take part in humiliating that submissive professor, there in the classroom. It was at this time that I realized I also possessed that quality of voice. Noticing this, the Mistress decided to instruct me, even letting me practice on her submissive – that college professor."
Her audience was not quiet during this explanation. Wide-eyed, there were loud whispers around the room as people attempted to absorb this information.
"Over the years," Miss Amanda continued, "my skills have developed, and I have worked with many submissives. But I must admit that my favorite of all of them was my first one – that college professor. So tonight, for your entertainment, here she is at my feet."
The room erupted in sound as people started talking loud and fast to each other, pointing at me. Kneeling there before the strangers, I felt like shrinking and sinking beneath the carpet. There I was, a highly regarded college professor, dressed in this obscene fashion, and kneeling humbly before them.
Making a quieting gesture with her hands, Miss Amanda stated, "She is quite obedient. Let me demonstrate. Girl, crawl around the room and kiss the foot of each person as you go."
