I have spent all morning running around taking care of the errands You laid out for me today. It’s almost lunch time when I hear the cell phone ring. I pick it up and look at the number…it’s You. My heart starts to beat a little faster. I say hello and I hear You on the other end.
“Come to Me, whore. Now.”
You do not wait for my reply. You know that the I will come. I start driving to Your office. Thinking of You along the way. Wondering what O/our vanilla friends would think. Hearing You call me whore. I’m sure they would be shocked. But to me, it’s a term of endearment. For me, being called whore by You is the same as being called honey or sweetheart. The trip to Your office seems to be taking forever. There is so much traffic at lunchtime. My anxiety level increases. I must get to You quickly. You do not accept excuses for tardiness.
Sitting in the car at a red light, I can feel my cunt getting wet in anticipation of seeing You. The 6 rings, 3 on either side of my pussy lips, feeling heavy. My cunt aching for You always. I want to reach down and touch myself, but I know I am not allowed. You would never know if I touched myself, but I would. And the guilt would be too much for me. You control me completely. Whether You are sitting next to me, or 1000 miles away. Everything I do is done with thoughts of You. I am getting frustrated at all the cars in my way. Don’t they understand that I must get to You. I finally pull into the parking lot at Your office. I rush to get out of the car, not caring that I’ve done a poor job of parking.
I walk into Your office and see Your secretary, Rita. She smiles and nods her head at me.
“You may have a seat dear, He will be right with you.”
I go over to a chair. I see Rita watching me as I lift the back of my skirt. You have trained me to never sit on my skirt. I know she sees the red panties You laid out for me to wear today. I look away from her knowing smile. I am watching Your employees go about their business. I hear snatches of conversation. Most of Your employees know who I am. What I am to You. I see a new face walk up to Rita.
“Who is that?” he asks. Rita just smiles at him.
“That’s the boss’s slave.”
“Oh really? What’s her name?”
I see Rita look over at me with a quizzical look. “You know, I don’t know her name. She has always just been known as His slave.”
Though I am embarrassed to be discussed like that, inwardly my heart is soaring. I am very proud to be Your slave. I am content with my life as Your property.
I know I have only been waiting there a short time, but I am becoming anxious. I need to see You. To hear Your voice. I hear Your office door open, and there You are. Walking a gentleman out . My gaze is drawn towards You. You have yet to acknowledge my presence. I see You shake his hand and as he leaves You turn and look at me. I see Your eyes traveling over my body. Admiring what belongs to You. You nod to Rita and walk back in Your office. Rita looks at me.
“He is ready for you dear,” she tells me.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I walk by her desk and into Your office.
You are standing by Your desk, shuffling through some papers. I stand in the doorway, waiting. You look up at me.
“How was your morning, My pet? Did you get all your chores done?”
“Yes Sir” I answer.
“Come in My dear and shut the door.” You tell me.
I shut the door and walk around to stand by Your desk. You sit down in Your chair and motion me to come over. I am standing between Your legs. I feel You slide Your hands up the outside of my thighs. You cup my bottom in Your hands and gently squeeze.
“Lift your skirt up.”
I lift my skirt up, exposing the red silk panties I have on. You slide Your hands up my hips and hook Your fingers into the waistband. You slowly pull my panties down to my knees. You lean back in Your chair and stare. Looking at what belongs to You. You know I am aching for Your touch. I can feel the wetness between my legs. You reach out and with one finger lightly touch my cunt. Tracing a path between the rings on my pussy lips. A small moan escapes from me.
“How very wet you are. You are such a little whore, aren’t you?” You ask.
“Yes Sir, I am,” I whisper. Hardly able to talk with the need I have for You.