Mistress Z's Game

-Rest Area 3-

With that text, my Mistress began the game.

We have been playing the game for several years now. It started several years ago when Mistress traveled to a gig with me in a town a couple of hours away. On the way home, like usual, I stopped in the rest area along the freeway and exchanged my performance clothes for more casual fare -- with a lot of fondling along the way. While sitting in the car, it is pretty impossible for someone to really see anything unless they are looking hard, so it is a pretty safe thing to do, public-decency-wise. Mistress enjoyed the fact that I got this naked in so public a place, and filed away the fact for future reference.

"Future reference" came about two weeks later, when I needed to make the same trip, unaccompanied.

"Are you stopping at the same place to change?" Mistress asked.

"I assume so. It's a pretty good place at that time in the evening." I replied.

"Let me pack a bag for you to change into, then," she said with a smirk, that I spelled certain doom for me. She met me at the door a few minutes later with a small packed suitcase and a small luggage lock.

"We're going to play a game, here are the rules. On the way home, you will stop and remove all of your clothes and put them in this suitcase. You will lock it with this lock, for which I am not giving you the key. Only then will you open the cloth bag and put on the clothing you find inside. Since you will not be able to get back into your suitcase, you might want to plan your stops accordingly. Oh, and send me a photo on your cell with a picture of the lock on the suitcase before you change, and a picture of yourself afterwards." With that she gave me a kiss and sent me on my way.

Mistress has a sense of humor, but I never really appreciated how much until that day. Naked and wanting to quickly get clothed in the car, and with great trepidation about what lay inside, I opened the bag that first time to find: panties and stockings, sure, the bra I kind of expected -- but the pirate dress with the bloomers and corset were a big surprise. But, knowing better than to disobey, I put it all on. And getting that corset on in the car was a bitch!

I never knew what would be in the bag when we played the game. Sometimes it would involve a dress or heels or women's underwear. Of course various plugs and cock cages were included on occasion, as well as nipple clamps, vibrators and various other toys. One time it included nothing but a spool of rope and instructions to outfit myself with a body harness (leading to a very restrained remainder of a weekend at home). Other times it would involve some bizarre costume designed to humiliate me. Once it came with a pair white, light cotton slacks and a thin tan colored dress shirt, a red thong and a red bra that stood out like a sore thumb underneath -- and a shopping list for a grocery store on the way home. The biggest surprise was, of course, the time when she just put my normal clothes in the bag. OK, she did cut them off me after restraining me to the bed when I got home, but it was still a surprise seeing them at first.

Mistress gradually began to assert herself more and more in the game. I no longer got to decide where I would stop; she made those choices for me. She had a short hand for the places she determined it would be safe for me to change that she would text to me while I was playing the gig. I often was not allowed to park in the driveway and sneak in the house. More often I would have to park down the street and walk home -- especially on the evenings I was wearing heels!

I had a feeling that we were about to take things to a new level, though, when the bag she handed me as we kissed on my usual mad dash out the door was suspiciously light. I had no time to give it much thought at the time, as I was late as usual, but it did cost me a little concentration while I was playing.

I checked the text message as I was packing to leave. Rest Area 3 meant that I would be 2/3 of the way home before I got any idea what was in store for me tonight. I had a feeling I was going to be pretty happy I didn't have to work tomorrow, though.

I pulled into my usual spot, and removed my clothes and locked them up as always. The cloth bag inside the suit case seemed empty, so I almost overlooked the pair of white satin panties. I slipped them on and sent off my photo, as commanded. I was shocked to receive a text back, right away. Mistress had never done this before.

-Go to the back parking area. You will find a red cone in a parking space. Move it and park there. You will find another bag in the back seat. Follow the directions in the bag.-

I found the designated space in the back corner of the rest area. It was pretty dark, as the light had burnt out, and was near a grove of trees. I dug two bags out of the wheel well behind me labeled "One" and "Two." Opening bag one, I found three pair of wet panties in a plastic bag, a roll of bondage tape, and a note. "We have heard enough of your jabbering tonight. Do take care of that, would you?" That was clear enough. I removed the panties from the bag and stuffed them all tightly into my mouth. Using the entire roll of bondage tape, I sealed my lips and jaw tightly closed with loops over my head and across my mouth.

Bag number two held a bunch of canvas webbing and a blindfold. Attached to the webbing were several Velcro straps and a pair of handcuffs. The note in the bag had no instructions, just a picture of how the webbing attached to a picnic table. The straps wrapped around the top of the table. There were vertical straps that had cuffs for ankles and knees, holding the legs far apart. A horizontal web had the handcuffs attached, stretched far over the head. I could just make out a picnic table in front of me underneath the trees. A short while later, I was laying on top of the table with my legs stretched wide apart and velcroed in place, a blindfold tightly over my eyes, and my hands cuffed above me.

I lay quietly on the table (what choice did I have) for a long time. I could feel the wind gently moving the hair on my body, and a slight rain drizzled, probably making the panties superfluous. In the distance I could hear the occasional car door open and close, or a truck rumble on the freeway. But all I could do was wait.

It seemed like an hour had gone by, when I felt a light touch on my ankle. A finger nail lightly scraped up my thigh, and then gently massaged my cock through the panties. In very short order, I was harder than I had ever been in my life.

"What do we have here?" came a soft voice by my ear. I started to get very worried. I didn't know this voice.

To be continued?