For this impertinence Trisha received a hard pinch to her left nipple, along with a kiss on the mouth, which muffled her whimpering moan of pleasure. The longing and need began to rise in her again, and her Master, sensing this, abruptly ended the kiss saying “You are correct, my Slut,” as he gathered his clothing and headed towards the bathroom to shower. “Clean up this kitchen, and then you may begin your homework.”
Trisha immediately felt as if the room had grown cooler, but knew better than to cover herself with a robe or clothing. She set about putting the kitchen back to rights, lining the chairs up around the table, after scrubbing its surface and removing the straps from the table legs and special hooks that were installed on the underside. The bonds were tucked back into their drawer in the pantry, and then she gathered the toys, a vibrator, a pair of ben wa balls, a dildo and…oh my, the butt plug was still in her! She’d grown so accustomed to it that she hadn’t noticed its small tight presence in her ass. That would have to remain where it was until Master advised her of his wishes…but the rest of the playthings went to the sink to be thoroughly washed and sanitized, before they were packed away in a case that went into the same drawer in the pantry as the bonds.
Now that the room had been put in order she went to the parlor to begin her “homework.”
From the first time they’d been together, after every session, Trisha was obliged to write her Master a letter, describing their time together from her point of view, in detail, including not only her perceptions of what went on but what she was feeling during each experience. There were times when she enjoyed this, and simply couldn’t wait to share with her Master all the things she had enjoyed and learned during their session.
There were other times however, when this exercise was torture far beyond any inflicted on her body. If the Master had asked her to be specific about something new they had tried, often something she’d reacted to poorly, then writing about it felt like a violation of her mind, her final private place exposed.
Today this was not the case, for today was one of those days when she looked forward to telling her Master exactly what was on her mind and in her heart, as he’d left her feeling so languid, and softened, and blissfully owned. She heard the water running in the bathroom and smiled as she knelt before the cocktail table with her writing tablet before her. Taking up her pen she marked the date, and then in her flowing script began her reminiscence with Dearest Master…
I can’t help but smile this morning, though you have left me exhausted and sore, I feel so utterly owned and enslaved, so very securely wrapped in it.
Last night, when you told me that I would be joining you at the club as your guest where you were performing, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. I was also a little afraid, as I remembered you had once promised that you had special plans for me out in public, and something told me that this would be the night. When you made a point of reminding me of the long standing “no panties rule” I was sure that you had special plans.
I thought right away that my long, black sheath dress, with the thin spaghetti straps and the slits in the sides that went from mid-thigh to ankle, would be perfect. You would easily be able to reach under my skirt via the slits, and by wearing only a bustier under it my breasts would be pushed up and you would easily be able to reach down the front of my dress to access them…I am so glad you were pleased with my appearance and choice of clothing.
I was proud to be by your side as we went into the club, and into your dressing room, and liked being introduced to your acquaintances, except when we met that stage manager Mike. I knew by the look in his eye that he knew something, too much, about me, and was relieved that he didn’t follow us into that little closet of a space where you get ready for work.
As you kissed me the moment the door was shut, and then pushed me into your chair I forgot all about Mike, and I was so very glad to lift my skirt for you, and spread my legs wide, until you took out that egg vibrator and told me what you intended! I couldn’t believe you expected me to hold that inside of me through the whole show, especially while you held the remote in your pocket while onstage for your half hour act.
All I could do was accept it of course, but inside I wondered and worried a million things Master! What if it slipped out of me while I walked? What if it was loud and somebody heard my whole insides humming? What if I came? How would I suppress my moans and shudders? I didn’t dare to refuse you Master, and didn’t wish to disappoint, while at the same time I was angry that you put me in that position, and excited, and afraid, and hoping that you were funnier than ever this evening, and that everyone was too busy laughing loud and long to notice me as I buzzed and blushed and shivered in my seat all evening.
As you escorted me to my seat, I knew you sensed my fear when you whispered “Didn’t you once tell me that you had a secret desire to be exposed?” That remark was like having ice cubes dropped down the front of my dress…and is why I gasped and shivered so at the time. I was so hot and so excited, but also so afraid that you would make sure I was exposed and humiliated on a grand scale. When you told me that Mike would occupy the chair next to mine at our table near the stage door, and that he would be looking out for me until you were free to do so yourself, I felt very edgy. Mike’s leering grin as he assured me I was in good hands didn’t help at all.
I sat and ordered the one glass of wine I was allowed, per your instructions, so that I wouldn’t lose sensitivity, and watched you walk away. I jumped as the egg began to vibrate deep inside of me without warning. Mike grinned again and winked at me knowingly, while my face burned with a blush that I felt must glow in the dim club.
I tried everything to ignore the feelings between my legs, and to escape the thoughts in my head. I tried to ignore Mike’s hand on my knee, his look of concern as I gasped at one point and then took a long drink of the ice water he’d ordered for me. I tried to concentrate on your voice, the jokes you were telling, and the faces of the people in the audience as they laughed. None of these things could distract me fully from the torment of those vibrations.
