Michelle and John were still at the kitchen table, after having had their supper, in heated discussion about a masquerade party they were to attend that night.
“Honey,” he said placatingly, “we’re both to blame. We knew the damn party was coming up and neither one of us took enough interest to think about renting costumes. Is there any way we can fake it with stuff we have around here?”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked sarcastically. “Do you want to do the old oil sheik trick again using one of the bed sheets?”
“Nah, I guess we can’t pull that stunt two years in a row.”
“No,” she said affirmatively. “You as the oil sheik and me as the tart isn’t going to cut it two years in a row.”
“Maybe not,” he said, “but you sure caused a stir last year dressed the way you were. Maybe you can improve on that theme.”
Brightening, she responded, “You’re right. They ate it up, didn’t they? There’s nothing like a little eroticism to turn a room on its collective ear. I suppose I could get sexy with what I have, but what are we going to do about you?”
An idea flashed in John’s mind. It was outrageous, he knew, but their friends thought of the couple as being racy and, he admitted, he liked the reputation. “Suppose I just wear my underwear and go as your love slave?”
Michelle laughed at first, then stopped for a moment and thought about it. Actually, she considered, that really could be a good idea. Their friends wouldn’t be disappointed and, besides, they’d probably have a lot of fun.
“That’s not half bad,” she said. “I’ll wear my leather mini, seamed black stockings and I’ll make sure my garters show from time to time. The patent leather black spikes would fit right in, too. And, to really make them stand up and notice, I’ll only wear a black bra... no blouse, just the push-up bra. Okay so far?”
“Yeah, but you’ve gotta add those shoulder-length gloves of yours, lots of make-up, your costume jewelry... you know, the whole nine yards.”
A couple of hours later, Michelle was erotically, mind-bendingly in costume. Her five-feet, seven inches – made taller by her spike heels – clad in the black garments and only the black bra put a bulge in John’s undershorts, his only apparel.
Michelle struck a provocative pose and said, “Well, I see my love slave is behaving and reacting in the proper manner for his mistress. This outfit turns you on, huh?”
He fingered his erection and responded, “Yeah, but how do I handle this at the party? Outrageous is one thing – this is something else. I can’t be walking behind you all night with a hard-on.”
“You’re right,” she said, “you can’t. But the idea of you going in just your underwear is still a good one. How about changing out of those bikinis and into a pair of boxer shorts. I can tie your cock down with a scarf so that it snuggles neatly against your leg.”
John had a curious look on his face as he approved her plan. “Okay, it’s worth a try. I suppose the bulkiness of the boxers will allow for it.”
Michelle scooped a scarf from the dresser, took John’s penis in hand, and wrapped the scarf around it once before bringing the loose ends around his thigh and tying it. She then pulled up his boxers to see how it looked. She was pleased. There was only a hint of his rigid penis outline; tantalizing, but not too provocative.
Playfully, she slapped his shorts over the cock and said, “There you go, love slave. Your hard-on will be a secret only we two will share.”
“Great. But now that you’ve got it all tied up, I want you more than ever. Let’s fool around a bit before we go.”
“Not on a bet,” she said. “I’ve just spent a lot of time putting together this look and I won’t have it ruined that quickly. But,” she teased, “if you obey me tonight I might let you have you way later on.”
John and Michelle made their way downstairs. At the kitchen door, Michelle observed that the mistress and love slave act, to go over properly, needed refinement. His following her in his underwear didn’t quite cut it.
John had the answer right away. He hurried down to the basement, rummaged around a bit, then returned with the collar and leash they’d used for their old dog. He also brought Michelle’s riding crop, the one she’d used when the equestrian bit was the in-thing with their crowd. He handed her all three.
“Perfect!” she exclaimed. “Here, let me put the collar around your neck. Ooooo, it fits beautifully. And now I’ll just clip the leash onto it. There, you’re leashed like the slave you are and if you misbehave, I’ll use this whip on you.”
John reacted immediately to her words. His cock was harder than ever. He didn’t quite comprehend why he was more turned on than he thought he ever would be... but he was. And Michelle was fabulous! The leather skirt, the high heels and the deep-plunging bra made him weak in the knees. Did her being dressed that way and having him collared have anything to do with this? Her threat to use the riding whip on him, although in jest, caused a deep-rooted pang of sexual longing.
And then he realized it. John WANTED her to whip him! He wanted to be in bondage to her.
Now, how in the world could he tell her those thoughts? How could he admit that what they were doing right now was the utmost in sexual excitement?
Instead he said, “Michelle, you were right about the props. They seem to make a world of difference. But, before we go, maybe we better practice some of the theatrics of this thing so that we look that much more convincing.”
Michelle, while putting the collar around his neck and attaching the leash, felt a shudder of pure longing rampage through her body. Dressed the way she was, she felt like a goddess – erotic and desired – whose right it was to have a sex slave, a slave like John. Just the thought of actually using her whip on him made her flush.
“You’re right,” she said. “If we’re going to win first prize, we not only have to look the part, we have to play it. Let’s go into the living room and practice.”
She walked ahead of him, holding her end of the leash, as he followed on the tether.
“My slave should never stand taller than me, his mistress. Perhaps you’d better down on your hands and knees and we’ll practice your crawling behind me.” With that, she imperiously pointed to the floor with her crop and John went to his knees. Taking a firm hold on the leash, tightening the slack, Michelle led him on his hands and knees around the circumference of the room. When she stopped, John remained on all fours and she sat on his back.
“This is good,” she said. “I can use you as my chair wherever we are in the party room. Is that good theatrics?” she asked.
John had difficulty answering her question, but he eventually go to it. “Yes,” he said, “that’s a perfect start. And for the purpose of scripting, you should probably be calling me ‘slave’ and I should be answering ‘Mistress’. How does that sound, Mistress?”
“Perfect, slave. You will address me as Mistress throughout this evening.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She rose from his back and lead him to where she sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. “Slave, that bondage and discipline video we saw a while ago had the mistress getting her shoes kissed and licked by her slave. I want my feet worshiped, too.”
