Instructions 3

Master's instructions arrive in my inbox unexpectedly. They are characteristically direct and precise. I stare at the email and wonder what He is thinking. There is no explanation. I review the instructions and hope that at the completion of them, I will find Him waiting for me. A reward perhaps for my obedience.

The prospect of seeing Master is motivating but non-essential to my compliance. In His instructions I hear His tone and this is enough to shift me into my submissive state and set about immediately in the fulfilment of His wishes.

I watch the clock and calculate my preparations and travel against the time specified. Already I am compromising: this is no time to consume food or engage with a hair straightener. I douche, shower and dress. As per instructions I have chosen something ultra feminine and conservative: a sheer pink skirt with a long handkerchief hemline, a white cap sleeved top and pink stilettos. I am discomforted by Master's instruction to go braless: I am too big for this indulgence and do not think I can pass it off as anything but supremely slutty. I understand though that it is the contradiction of my whoredom and my attire that He finds appealing, that my discomfort and potential humiliation at being without a bra is simply an added bonus for His amusement.

Beneath the skirt my skin is smooth and hairless and my bald, naked cunt is caressed by the fabric. I lube up my butt plug and plunge it into my anus, closing my eyes and, in that moment, imagining it is the feel of Master's cock once again penetrating my sphincter.

I consult the instructions. Master is specific about the scent that I wear, my makeup and the time that I should leave the house. He also specifies the contents of my handbag. I am soothed by the attention to detail exacted upon me. The item He has emphasised must not be overlooked is safely tucked into the inner sanctum of my bag with my car keys, my lube and my purse.

As the clock snaps over to the hour, I lock up the house and leave. As I drive, I am conscious of the fullness of the plug in my asscunt and the increasing arousal between my legs.

I drive across town to the public car park specified in the email. I enter and park as instructed, step out of my vehicle and bend over as if to look at the front driver's tyre. I wait. Master has made it very clear that I must bend and wait. That, whatever happens, I must not move until I am next given an instruction. That until I am given that instruction, my position must not be modified or abandoned.

I feel vaguely silly. I am bending over, legs slightly spread, ass in the air and peering at my front tyre, waiting. I feel my thighs begin to strain, the muscles tightening. Then I hear movement; footsteps clicking across the car park towards me. I do not move. I wait. The footsteps near and I am conscious of a body behind me. Is it Master? Am I being too hopeful to expect a surprise visit? I remain ignorant, bent over, peering at the rubber ridges of my tyre. A hand reaches up under the fabric of my skirt and strokes my cunt lips. I know immediately it isn't Him. He does not touch me this way. I am both alarmed and aroused that Master has subjected me to a stranger's touch. The unknown hand explores my cunt lips, separating them and then probes inside my cunt.

All my attention is focused upon the person behind me. My skirt is raised and laid across my back. My plugged asscunt is fully exposed and I am now increasingly nervous of being discovered by someone who is not ordained by You. The plug from my ass is removed. I wait expectantly before being surprised by the plastic baggy with my plug in it being passed over my shoulder. I take it and hold on to it. I have received no instruction and so do not move from my position. Two hands spread my ass cheeks wide and I feel a soft breath blowing on my anus. My cunt dribbles. Then, curiously, I feel something placed in between my ass cheeks and am certain that it is a card.

"Count to 30. Remove the card. Go the location on the card. There is a bar there. Sit at the bar and wait."

I count to 30, extract the card from between my ass cheeks and note that it is for a hotel a few streets away. It is implied then that I am to leave my car here. I lock it up, tuck the card in my handbag and head off to the hotel bar that is my next destination.

I enter the hotel lobby and cross the foyer to the bar. There are a few suits in attendance but no more than half a dozen. Apart from these few, the bar is relatively empty. The area is littered with chic lounges and small coffee tables upon which sit flickering tea lights in glasses. I approach the bar, where a young Asian bartender stands haloed by multicoloured neon lights that highlight the variety of cocktail mixers on the shelf behind him. I perch myself on a stool at the end of the bar and watch him approach. I am uncertain now. Master has not instructed me to order a drink and since the rest of His instructions have been exhaustive, I do not think that I should deviate now into improvisation. I resolve to tell the bartender that I am waiting for someone, which may or may not be true, for all I know.

As it happens the issue is moot: the bartender approaches and states my name. I nod and pick up the wine coaster that he has slipped across to me. Upon it is written "Collar and blindfold on in lift. Floor six." I glance up and notice the wry smile of the bartender watching me. I have the grace to blush for the obviousness of our games: I am in a hotel bar, without a bra, with instructions to attend a floor with a blindfold on. The only comfort I take from this is that I clearly cannot be mistaken for a whore. That I am one for my Owner is our secret, and I take this secret into the lift with me.

Inside the mirrored interior of the lift, I put on my collar and secure the blindfold around my head; I press floor six and then lower it over my eyes and wait. My senses are automatically heightened. I count the floors as the lift lurches and shudders beneath me. I work to regulate my breathing, to temper my rising anxiety and excitement. I trust my Owner not to place me in danger; however, I know that He is also creative and deeply perverted and so, as I rise to the sixth floor, I know that my wet cunt is accompanied by an adrenal surge and increase in my pulse rate.

A sharp spear of anxiety up my back announces my arrival on the sixth floor. I hear the doors open and then more than one person enters; I am conscious of a body on either side of me. A leash is attached to my collar and I am pulled forward out of the lift.

Propelled by the tugging of the leash, I walk down a corridor and come to a stop only when a hand grips my upper arm to prevent me moving further. I hear a card swipe and a door open and I am gently but firmly pushed inside. The door closes with an ominous click behind me.

I am propelled into the room and then wrenched to a halt. I tilt my head, listening, but no one speaks and for a moment there is no obvious movement. Then I feel pressure on my shoulders and I sink to my knees in response. Fingers pinch my nose shut and, automatically I open my mouth to breathe. A thick cock is fed into my open orifice and I know instinctively, as I begin to work it with my mouth, that it is my Master's cock: its size and shape, the soft brush of pubic hair against my burrowed face, the distinctive scent that is Him. I inhale deeply between long hard sucks. I am falling into subspace. There is an intense pleasure in sucking, licking, pulling, smelling and tasting my Owner's cock; like an all-day sucker it fills my mouth and could occupy me for hours were it not for the welt that grows in my mouth from my vigorous occupation.

Beneath my exploring tongue, I feel the cock grow increasingly rigid and imagine the engorged and angry nature of my Owner's meat as it is pulled from between my lips.

"Greedy little cunt." My Owner's voice confirms His presence and I hear pleasure in his deep tones.

I am smiling now having given pleasure, I receive my own from having done so.

I am turned around and Master's command "Bend and spread" has me face first into the bedspread standing on the floor with my legs spread and my hands holding my asscunt wide. I feel thick fingers penetrate my rectum and I know from the rapid finger fucking and the instantaneous surging of my cunt that my Owner is in control. His knowledge of my asscunt is my intense pleasure and my undoing, it is the chain that binds me and the vehicle of my own escape. I bark my request for permission to cum.

"Cum, bitch." My cunt floods on command. No sooner do I catch a breath than Master increases the intensity again on the spot he understands offers a direct line to my cunt, and I am barking again for permission, and my Owner once again commands me to cum, which I do with abandon.

There is a lull and once again I strain to hear communication between my Master and the others in the room, but I cannot. I am pulled upright again, lead a few steps and then pushed into a chair. It is a chair with arms and my legs are forcefully spread and hung over each arm rest. My arms are placed on each thigh and together, thigh and arm are bound to the armrest on each side. I am splayed wide open. I am not very comfortable and hope fervently that this position will be temporary or that I might be fucked senseless so that the discomfort is no longer my focus.

I feel fingers spreading the lips of my cunt. There is more than one hand in play. There is perhaps two, but as fingers pull my labia and invade my cunt, I am overwhelmed by the multiple sensations and cannot be sure how many hands are involved. My hips are pulled forward and a long cool probe is inserted into my ass. My cunt is wiped. My blind focus is caught between my ass which is being stretched and my cunt which seems curiously as though it is being cleaned. Then my head is yanked back by my hair and a ball gag inserted into my mouth. Ugh. I am unhappy with this. I hate gags. I am surprised and alarmed: Master has never tried to silence me before.

The probe in my ass is slowly pistoning in and out of my back passage as fingers work my cunt. I am feeling intensely aroused, but equally frustrated: the ministrations on either hole are not designed to complete my arousal but to prolong it. Then suddenly I feel cold metal on my cunt and then an excruciating sharp pain. I scream through my gag. I have been pierced! Master had once threatened to apply a padlock piercing to my cunt. Oh good lord, this must be it. I am breathless with pain. Then I feel movement, the probe is removed and a cock pushed swiftly into my cunt and the ball gag whipped off my mouth. I wind up to speak but am silenced by my Owner's mouth on mine, kissing me as He pounds my wounded cunt. The pain is everywhere are once, but so entwined with pleasure that I feel mindless with it.

My Owner's hands grip my thighs as He pushes deeper inside me and whispers, "My cunt now." I bark into His mouth my request for release and in return receive permission to cum. As I relax into an intense form of pain therapy that has my cunt squirting my Master's looming torso, I feel the cock inside me twitch and the sensation of being filled with my Owner's hot seed.