"Take your time in the tub," my Master had ordered, when he called to inform me about the cocktail party.
He had the entire house custom built to suit his, now our, pleasures. Luxuriating in a deep whirlpool jet tub, big enough to seat at least four, maybe six if they wanted to get cozy, was just the beginning of the special treats, but definitely one of my favourites. Master knew that, and this command was clearly a gift to me. Like a good slave, I knew I would repay Master in time; in his time, more precisely.
I loved the tub so much that I was tempted to finger myself, but I knew that if I so much as caressed my erect nipples, my clit would ache so badly that I would orgasm. Master had not specified anything about that. I knew Master, and if he wanted me to release my sexual excitement, he would have said so. If I jilled myself off, and later claimed that I thought "take your time" was code, I might earn a solid slap across my face. As much as I loved Master's discipline, I did not want to incur true wrath.
Master had bought me a new little black dress for the cocktail party, and I took my time dressing. Just one look at the dress told me that if I tried to wear it with a bra, or even panties, the lines would show. Master knew my body so well, he had picked a dress which would fit just like a glove, with room to caress my abundant flesh, but no more. Cut low in back and front, a bra would be jarringly obvious and destroy the effect. Panties would be just as superfluous. It still took time to wriggle my hips and tits into the fabric, and to smooth the dress into place. When I examined myself in the mirror, I was pleased, and knew that Master would be even more so. The black silk flowed over my skin like I was wearing just a layer of paint, moulded to my curves. I am not a skinny girl - I have boobs, and hips, but exercise keeps my ass like a shelf. The dress adjusted nicely to the demands of my curves, but there was barely enough to cover my booty, let along my thighs.
What really took the time though was my hair and makeup. Since the dress looked flawless, the rest of me needed to as well. I like to believe Master when he says I'm a natural beauty, but I realized that this party required me to assist nature - the trick, as always, was doing just the right amount to enhance my looks, without overdoing it.
It then took me all the time I had available to select my shoes. I tried on the three-inch black heels, a classic match, but, I concluded, lacking in enough drama. The red cage stilettos went too much the opposite direction. The second I slid my toes into the six-inch pumps, I knew that I was ready for the cocktail party.
Master had sent a car and driver to collect me and deliver me to the party - he worked downtown, and could shower and change at his office. He had told me that he had booked the car so that he would arrive just before me, sparing me any uncertainty about being alone.
The car ride was brief, and uneventful. The air conditioning was on high, making my nipples tingle. I opened my knees slightly, allowing the cool air to bathe my clit, taking the edge off. Master books his drivers from the best livery service - not so much as a glance in the rear view mirror. I gripped my handbag tightly in both hands, to resist touching myself. Even the best driver might react if I started wriggling in the back seat.
I had never been to the house where the cocktail party was being held, so I took extra care navigating the flagstone walkway, and was pleased that my host was waiting at the door. The foyer was mirrored, and brightly lit. I realized that in the light, my large, dark nipples were clearly visible through the sheer fabric of the little black dress - I might as well be topless. The hardness of my nipples from the walk through the nippy evening air just accentuated the effect. I knew though, that Master would have anticipated this when he picked the dress, so I tossed my hair and threw my shoulders back with pride.
Glancing to the side as I walked, I also realized that the cut of the dress left most of the top half of my mounds exposed. Every step that I took made my jugs jiggle. I was not even inside the main room, and men were already ogling my cleavage. I knew that Master was using this display to make the others jealous of the woman he owned. I grinned triumphantly, proud to serve.
My smile widened even further when I saw my Master, halfway across the room, at the centre of a small conversation, looking cool and in control as always - the man all these other men wished they could be.
