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.
