Pet Show

I sat quietly and waited. From the end of the bed, I looked out the hotel window and observed the building site opposite. There were a half dozen men ambling around scaffolds perhaps ten meters from my window. The curtains were open. If any of them happened to look this way, they would see me naked, sitting with my legs spread wide and facing the window. The knowledge of this aroused me. It was a game of chance: would one look this way in time?

I pinched my nipples and rubbed the hard buds as I watched the builders on the site. If I were not bound to my position by instruction, I would have enjoyed the idea of pasting my naked body against the glass, leaving a wet cunt smear like graffiti to indicate that I was here and boldly declaring my wanton nakedness to the bare-chested labourers opposite.

But I am a compliant whore and I longed to hear the knock of my Master upon the door. I realised that my asscunt was empty and fretted quietly whether or not I should move to plug it. Did the women overlook my plug? Did Master intend that I should remain unplugged? Although this, I fretted further, would be counter to all I knew and understood of him. If I stayed put and was found plugless by Master, would I be punished? Would I be punished if I moved to insert the plug?

My fretting occupied the next ten minutes before I heard the door handle turn. I relaxed. Master would cane me anyway, as was His right. There was no need for further anxiety. I turned to watch Master enter the room and noted the increase in my pulse and growing desire when I saw Him. Master's large frame stood over me. "Hello, my little bitch." He brushed aside the hair from my neck. "Where is your collar?"

"In my bag, Master," I answered. "I was not told to put it on. Did I do wrong, Master?"

"No, bitch. I have a different collar for you tonight." From his bag, He removed a thick leather, heavily-studded collar with a large ring at the front. Hanging from this ring was a silver disc upon which was engraved "Anal Whore".

"Thank You, Master." I bent my head forward as Master attached the collar around my neck. When this was a done, I felt that a precautionary first move was in order: "Master, the women did not have me re-insert my plug. I was told not to move once they left and so, Master, I am not plugged." This last came out in a breathy rush of anxiety, although I knew that the worst case scenario was also the best case scenario: Master would lose his temper, beat me and then fuck me mercilessly. In my rational brain, I understood that the omission of plug was not adequate a crime for this kind of response, and yet displeasing Master or raising His ire was undesirable in that it evoked feelings of failure and disappointment in me.

"Again, bitch, you have done nothing wrong. I have a special plug for you this evening." Once again Master went to his bag. "Bend over the bed, bitch, and spread those ass cheeks for me."

Happily I complied in the hope that Master would probe my anus with His fingers, as He was generally wont to do upon inspection of my asscunt. Instead, I felt His fingers between my cunt lips and penetrating deeply inside of me. "There's no lube, like a naturally produced one, my little whore," Master observed, smearing my juices over my asshole and then pushing his thick fingers in my tight ring. Then, as if suddenly possessed, His fingers pistoned in and out of my ass in a rapid-fire digital fucking of my hole.

"Master! Permission?" I gasped.

"Cum, bitch!" Master commanded. And so I did, my cunt gushing a torrent down my thighs, spraying both our feet. At which point Master once again, took my cunt juices and pushed them in and around my pulsing sphincter.

"This is your plug for this evening, bitch. What do you think of it?" Master placed before me a large metal tear-shaped bulb, the size and thickness of a prize-winning eggplant, which tapered to a tight neck from which protruded a small metal ring.

"It is very big, Master. It will make a gape the size of Luna Park's mouth," I noted warily. "My brains could fall out of my ass with that one."

"Lucky for you, bitch, you shall be well stuffed either with a plug or cock, not that there shall be any requirement for your brains this evening anyway." He fingered the ring on the end of the plug. "See this? I'm going to attach your leash to this ring and you will be lead around by your asscunt. It's your best feature anyway. There's no reason why people should care what your front looks like, when they have your asscunt to consider."

Master lubed up the plug and my asshole and proceeded to insert the bulb. It was like giving birth backwards -- tying to stick it back in. Horrendous. My forehead broke out in a sweat. I gasped and whimpered and focused on remaining still. Eventually, Master managed to push the plug all the way in, leaving only the ring protruding and nestled between my ass cheeks. It felt like I was carrying a house brick in my ass. I imagined it would soon feel better as my ass adjusted to the size and shape.

"Right, bitch," Master smiled. "We're ready. Grab your coat and let's go."

"Master, may I dress first?"

"No. Coat only."

I stood hesitantly as Master attached the leash to the ring between my ass cheeks. I dreaded my future humiliation, which was now assured given my state of nakedness. Master walked towards the door and tugged on the lead. I felt my insides yanked towards my sphincter. He looked at me pointedly. "Now!"

In coat and stilettos, I tottered obediently after Master.

I followed Master out of the hotel foyer and into the street. He held my leash loosely by His side as He walked, whilst the other end of the chain was lost beneath the hem of my thigh-length trench coat. If I walked too slowly or too quickly, Master would pull on the leash, which would in turn raise the bottom of my trench coat, risking exposure of my naked, plugged and leashed asscunt to the world. This awareness ensured that I maintained a steady pace a step or two behind Master, at an interval He was content with, as demonstrated by the state of the leash.

Master hailed a cab and opened the rear passenger door for me. I slid into the cab, feeling the plug penetrate more deeply into my anal cavity as I sat down. The leash hung between my legs.

"Legs open, bitch," Master instructed as He slid into the cab next to me. He tugged on the leash chain and lifted it so that it pulled against my cunt lips. I opened my legs as I glanced at the profile of the driver; he was focused on the road, but my guess was that his ears were very much trained on the backseat at the sound of Master's directive.

Master slid His finger between my legs. "A slick cunted whore, as usual. Very good." He pulled at the top button of my coat so that my breasts were exposed. "Consider this the driver's bonus, bitch," Master informed me as he pulled my breasts free. I caught the driver glancing back in the rear view mirror and noted the stretch of his neck as he craned to see more.

Legs open, cunt wet and breasts on display, I watched the scenery pass. Master had given the driver an address. As a non-resident of the city, I had no idea where we were going; suburbs flew by and my understanding of where I was in the world slipped by too.

The evening was a balmy one as dusk began to cede to dark night. Before long, the car turned into a long driveway leading up to a large, landscaped property in what appeared to be a semi-rural area. There were small lights lining the driveway up to the house, where a portico framed an ornate double front door.

"Put this on, bitch," Master instructed passing me a simple black, half-length face mask. I put the mask on as Master paid the driver; the mask covered my eyes, nose and cheekbones, ensuring my mouth was easily accessible. This, I knew, would be by design. The mask served to heighten my fear and excitement of what was in store for me.

"Come, bitch." I felt a tug on the leash, prompting me to slide out of the car closely behind my Owner.

The front doors stood wide open and I could discern music and chatter, but could not see anyone to welcome us. "Master, where are we?"

"Where is not important," Master responded as the cab disappeared back down the driveway. "From here on in, you are on display, bitch. Do not disappoint me."

I followed after Master into the entrance hall. "I hope I never shall, Master. But what are we doing here?"

"Consider this a pet show, bitch. You'll be inspected, sampled and expected to perform tricks. I will be instructing you in what is required. But you will be compliant and accommodating to all the members."

"Members, Master?" I whispered breathlessly, hurrying in Master's wake. "Pet Club?"

"Sadistic Dominant Club, bitch. Enough talking. You will not take off your mask whilst we are here, do you understand?"

"Of course, Master. Instructions in basic English are easy for me." I grinned.

"Two stripes for cheekiness."

"Sorry, Master." My humour was supposed to diffuse the anxiety I felt of being lead into a room of sadistic dominants. Of course Master tossed that one in breezily and the inclusion of the "sadistic" descriptor may have just been for effect, but the analogy of a deer into a lion's den seemed fitting here.

"No speaking unless you are asked a direct question or you are responding appropriately to an instruction."

"Yes, Master. Not even to ask permission?"

He turned to me. "It's a pet show, bitch. If you need permission for anything, you'll bark for it."

The lion's den was a large lounge in a fusion of navy and tan, with glass, leather and suede the dominant textures. It was stylish and masculine and devoid of personality. The double French doors opened onto a contrasting scene of green landscaped lawns, neat hedges and resplendent and blooming nature. In this setting idled men from twenty-something to sixty-something, invariably holding a drink of some sort.

"Master!" I whispered urgently from our position at the doorway. "Where are all the other pets?"

"Two stripes for speaking without permission." Master took my coat off me. "Do not fret, little bitch. You will have company. I believe there will be one other pet attending."

I was now naked and standing fearfully at the edge of a room of some thirty or so dominants and my Master instructed me not to fret. Some instructions are simply not realistic.