Master had been bringing me to the gatherings for quite awhile before I became the monthly star.
We dressed in the attire that Master preferred. He, in his jet black jeans and shirt, would lead me with the leash attached to my collar. Silver links fell from the collar in adornment, jingling lightly as I walked quietly near him. Compared to many of the others in this place I was dressed quite modestly. Master allowed a robe sheer enough to please his eyes but yet thick enough to maintain a bit of modesty. He's quite a proper man, and although he can enjoy a bit of display, he generally prefers to remain silent and largely observant of the actions of others. This contributed to my great surprise at the turn of events and his obvious delight in my center stage position.
The day that it started, Master sat comfortably in the chair he normally used, which was about three spots away from the door. I sat at a pillow by his feet, my body heavily leaning into his leg and my head resting on his thigh. He slid his fingers into my hair as usual, and we quietly watched as the others came in and situated themselves.
As well as a variety of attire, there was also a difference of position amongst the couples gathered. Some submissives knelt beside their Masters, others were immediately set on display in a variety of positions, sometimes bound, sometimes gagged, and sometimes attached to torturous or erotic devices. I'm nearly ashamed to admit that there were times I envied them, as I sat resting on my comfortable pillow nestled under Master's fingers. There were others like me, as well, usually the quieter segment; couples or groups quietly watching, sometimes with widening eyes, and sometimes with winces and hidden faces.
I could sometimes feel his eyes on me, or hear a whisper in my ear.
"I see my lady is drawn to the blonde one, perhaps later you will touch her."
Master never suggested I would perform such as they did, but there were times that he would walk to one of the Dominants and speak quietly. At times I was summoned, and would set to her with my fingers and mouth silently, his appraising eyes on me all the while. Otherwise, we never spoke, or socialized with any member of the group, but kept to ourselves, with his fingers trailing my hair and neck, and my growing anticipation for more private moments at home when our evening out was done.
On this particular evening a rather flamboyant Dominant addressed the group. He was bald, tall, and clad in black leather, complete with a riding crop attached to his belt. On a leash and collar at his feet was a young brunette, naked and obviously bruised. He walked quickly, tugging at her leash and using harsh tones. She gasped and whimpered, struggling to keep up with him as she crawled on all fours.
He turned on her fiercely, raising his voice to the gathering, his boot firmly placed on her neck as she managed to move into the position he must have expected. I could only imagine the girl repeating this act in their basement dungeon a hundred times a night until she found the right coordination to realize his turn, stop crawling, and get her head on the floor before his boot found its way somewhere besides her neck.
"This slut begs for my collar, don't you, bitch?"
She yelped an unintelligble reply, her bruised ass high in the air and her face pressed into the floor. I was aware of the unmistakable sound of Master's tongue clicking, feeling an increase of pressure as his hands stroked my neck.
"There is much she needs to learn. I permit her now to beg you for help so that she may gain experience enough to be worthy of my collar." He lifted his foot from her neck, and touched the tip of his boot to her chin. I noticed that he did this very gently, barely touching her, the lightest touch of both command and encouragement. He reached down to unclasp the leash, then walked back to his chair, leaving her naked in the center of the room, with all eyes on her. She pulled herself up into a kneeling position, shaking and breathing erratically. It took her several moments to speak.
"I... I offer you..." her hands fluttered toward her face, and her breath hitched. I was sure she was going to burst into tears and run from the floor then, as she struggled to bring her hands downward. They hesitated midway, as if to cross over her breasts. This action was followed by a look of horror, and a very fast glance in the direction of her Master.
My heart pounded for her at this point. She was frightened and nervous. I, too, glanced in the direction of her Master, who sat watching her with an impassive expression. I had no doubt he was memorizing her every move to aid in her training later. Master's fingers tightened in my hair, reacting to the girl's continued speech. I turned my eyes back to her.
With hands now resting on her thighs she parted her legs, wide enough to display her sex.
She was struggling through every sentence, each one ending with the final word reaching upwards in pitch, a half gasp, a half question.
"I offer you this cunt. That you may show me how to better please him. I beg for the men to take me. To take me in this cunt and in my ass and to use me for the slut that I am."
Forcing out well practiced words shakily, like a child in a school play, with a much more discerning audience, she continued.
"I beg the men to take me and train me. Women. Women, I need to learn to accept female bodies. As his slut I need to care for and be cared for by my sisters." Her plaintive eyes began to scan the room, resting on each of the girls who were visible from the room's center. She reached me, and searched my eyes for a moment, pleading in her stares. Her fingers clenched and unclenched unconsciously on her thighs.
"I need to learn to drink and eat as sluts should do, and to clean a woman when she bleeds. I beg the girls to help me learn, as I beg the men to allow my Master the use of the girls for this."
A light had come in her eyes, and her nervousness seemed to be abated. Her words rose in pitch still, but no longer with hitched breaths. Color had come into her cheeks and she cast a vibrant essence.
"I need to bathe in woman and succumb to men, to be worthy of his collar in my place as his slut. Please help me. It is my life. "
Her eyes closed then, and she knelt silently, while the crowd appeared to digest her pleas. A crisp sound filled the room, and I looked to see her Master tapping the edge of his chair with his crop. The dark haired girl turned and crawled quickly back to him, eyes firmly on the floor.
Master stroked my shoulder silently as the next member took to the floor. I brushed my face lightly against his thigh, and had no idea how the brunette girl was going to change my quiet position in our gatherings. It was only with hindsight that I realized how carefully he checked the calendar when we arrived home that night.
Two weeks later I was surprised by his announcement that we were attending the gathering that evening. My face must have betrayed my desire to protest, for he gave me a hard look, raising a gray eyebrow and touching a finger thoughtfully to his beard.
"I know of your condition. We will go."
I struggled to find the words for my question without appearing to complain. Finally, I managed, "If it would please Master, it will help me to wear something beneath the robe."
In his smile I felt the first signs of a tickling in my body. A momentary image of the young brunette came to me, and I could hear her voice in my mind.
I need to bathe in woman.
He began to laugh, in a way that was uncharacteristic of him. I saw his finger coming close to me, and then he touched my nose, playfully.
"Boop!" said he. My face flushed immediately. As if it needed to be explained, he added "my lady sees the light. Dress comfortably for the ride; it will not matter once we are there." With that, he turned on his heel, walking towards his bedroom.
I watched his medium frame retreating, as he ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair. He seemed to be springing in his steps. My nose felt strangely numb where he touched me. I went to my room to prepare.
These days were always horrid. I'd had difficulties for my entire post-puberty life with discomfort during this monthly time. In recent years, perhaps as I was aging, the blood became heavier and the achings stronger. The first three days consisted of bleeding and heavier bleeding, clotting, and a weary ache. I could feel my insides throbbing. Master would sometimes put me face down and caress my lower back, easing the pain and helping the flow. It was difficult to dress properly, to walk, or to sit. Any move in public left me wondering if a trail of blood was behind me. I found I was constantly touching at my ass to be sure there was no leaking, checking the seat cushions when I stood, and carefully watching the reactions of those around me to see if they gave any indication of being disturbed.
And now, what was in store? Visions of being called into the circle and ordered to strip filled my head. My fingers began to tremble at the thought. I wanted to run to Master's room, throw myself at his feet and beg to please not do this.
I selected a dark outfit.
