The note arrived via messenger from Teresa's Master, simply worded yet as commanding as his actual presence. It specified his time of arrival, how she should be dressed, and it also included an extra bit of information: He would be bringing along a friend, who long held the fantasy of watching a session between a Dominant and submissive who had the true rapport. A relation so often attempted and rarely achieved, and she read this for what it was...a warning, not a compliment, not an indication of a particular emotion often encountered in any sexual relationship. It was a warning to be at her absolute best, 'or else'. Such notes in this pairing were the norm.
Oftentimes they indicated what Master anticipated wanting for refreshment, or perhaps that she should be waiting in a certain way, or have a bath ready for him. Instantly her heart thudded against her ribs, she could feel heat rising in her pale face at the very thought of an onlooker in such an intimate environment, and the very real possibility that she would be found lacking in some way. Going to the parties and clubs was one thing, where there were scenes going on all around and one could lose themselves in that comforting anonymity, and any well trained submissive knew that errors were more likely to be seemingly overlooked there, and dealt with afterward. The reason for this was simple; no Dominant wanted to be made a fool of directly or indirectly, particularly by the one they rule over, and the desire waned further in situations where others were present.
Some would consider this pairing to be exceptionally odd. Master, a professional man, highly educated, well groomed, designer suits. She, a pale and 'Gothic'-looking creature of strange dress, whose body was adorned with tattoos of ancient symbols, and gleaming metal piercing her flesh in what many would consider strange or cruel places. What knowledge the girl lacked was, that Master did love her in his own way; he simply opted not to tell her so, lest she become unruly. However, he did pay all of her expenses, including medical insurance and spending money. She would not dare ask for more. To receive so much in exchange for fulfilling his demands seemed more than fair to her, a dream come true.
This was altogether different from anything he had subjected to her previously. Master's hold on her was so complete, that he could predict how she would respond to any given situation in or out of a session. He anticipated her immediate nervous response, and if she was honest with herself, she knew, that he enjoyed it. The dance between him and his submissive was as finely choreographed as a performance in a ballroom competition; they fed from one another's needs, relied on what the other gave in return for what was taken. With true resolve she squared her shoulders and placed the note on the small kitchen table by which she was standing. She told herself repeatedly that she would not fail, she reminded herself of her complete love for and devotion to Master, reminded herself that her sole reason for being in this time and place in life was for his pleasure, no matter what that might be. Teresa was good at avoiding certain realities, such as that Master was under no obligation to love her the way she did him, or that she was nothing more than a collection of places for him to deposit his ejaculate.
In reality only moments passed. Moments that felt to the submissive also known as Teresa as if a small century had ticked by. With a pronounced shiver she left the kitchen and inspected the tiny parlor, and all appeared in order to her eyes. There was a leather sofa that Master had brought, one he claimed to love, and it gleamed softly in the strategic soft light. The cream colored walls were sparsely decorated, save for an occasional Oriental print, and a tall vase in one corner. Feeling satisfied with environmental appearances she moved up the stairs to the bed and bathroom.
There was plenty of time to clean and shave herself, and then go through the specific girly-ritual of hair and makeup (and she was secretly delighted that Master preferred her looking natural, he rarely desired much more than some powder and mascara), followed by adorning her body with the scant clothing specified in today's message. These things she did with a strange kind of detachment, almost as if she was not fully present in her own mind. The mind of the submissive was concerned with more pressing issues, such as her every move being graceful and perfect, her head being kept at a certain angle, and not having the temerity to actually look upon Master's face directly in the company of his guest. Such things she had come to think of as the Danger Zones. Places where an error could easily be made, if she were too full of her own abilities as his pleasure toy. Master was right, when he said that she tended to forget her place in things, and become too confident in his kindnesses.
After completing Body Chores and affixing the band of slave bells to her right ankle...her feet would remain bare with that exception...she slipped the custom corselet of fine velvets and laces around her torso and adjusted the boning. Carefully she began hooking what seemed to be hundreds of fastenings up the left side. The piece was designed to give the appearance of a true corset, laced in the back...but such is impossible to put on by one's self, so adjustments had to be made. It came to just below her large, naked breasts. The metal hoops through her nipples gleamed in the kind light and she allowed herself to feel a moment of pride for this trait of hers. Deft fingers reached up to both hoops as she affixed a fine chain between them, causing a very definite pressure that resulted in pleasurable sensations, and urged her nipples to a heightened state of erection.
Then came the crowning moment of the dressing; she removed the white gold necklace worn as a substitute collar. A 'collar the rest of the world can see'. In its place she put on the thick black leather collar, complete with three rings and two heavy buckles. With an easy series of movements it was buckled in place, and she felt whole again. Just as effortlessly she completed the set with a matching pair of 'bracelets', both of which also sported a large ring. In seconds the chains were all in place, effectively attaching her wrists to her neck but leaving room to move with surprising range. How Master loved this set, that was purchased several summers before at a lifestyle convention in Las Vegas. A quick check assured her that her appearance was as good as it would ever get, and she picked up a perfume bottle with a shaky hand. After nearly dropping the bottle, several sprays of a custom blended scent were applied to her neck, her cleavage, her inner thighs, her ankles. The aroma was heady, intoxicating. In the blink of an eye Teresa was no longer Teresa. Now, she was the slut, the whore, the toy, off to complete her purpose in life.
