Slut Training 02
The Evening Surprise
She knew she had no options. It was the sheer compulsion of his will that kept her aroused and compliant. The fact that he would never take no or her reluctance as answer that kept her eager and interested.
There was an imminent twenty four hours of subbie slavery planned. Twenty four hours of dressing the way she was instructed to and doing as she was told. Twenty four hours of being open and amenable to him and all his erotic plans for her. Twenty four hours of being wet and sustaining an accelerated heart rate for the entire duration.
He had planned to take her out when he first arrived and had shared that fact with her. Her initial reaction thought was that this was going to be something sweet and romantic, but of course it could be and most likely was going to be more than that. There would be a twist. There was always a twist.
She had nice legs. She was aware that they had kept their shape, smoothness and remained scar-free over the years. Not overly long, they were still extremely sexy and seductive when posed and displayed. She had had many compliments in her life about them but as she had gotten older, she had started to hide them. Not deliberately. Not under instructions. But out of instinct to show restraint and a degree of chastity.
This was something her Dom had noticed and a mindset that he aimed to change. He had made it his mission for her to experience a gradual mind shift from restrained moderation to open unbridled, sexy sluttiness.
She knew that the idea was that they were not going to be just on display in the bedroom from now on and it made her breathe just a little heavier. She was expected to dress more appropriately for him when they were out and it was pleasant and pleasing that he was so proud of how she looked.
First step were the shoes she was going to be expected to wear. She was now the owner of, amongst others, a pair of brilliant red, open toed five inch heels that made her stand up straight and kept her from slouching. The shoes were very glossy, and gave her body a slutty elegance. She could imagine everyone's eyes on her as she walked and it took all her courage to hold her head up high when in public, even though she knew she would be the subject of many men's wet dreams for several nights after they had seen her.
Second step was to purchase a much sexier and shorter skirt than she was used to. Dressing in black or dark material that tented around her ankles like a Victorian school ma'am was her usual go to. Cover everything as though a barrier to her womanly charms; a defence against contemplating her still extremely desirable and undiminished sex.
The red leather, half split, mini skirt was perfect. It shouted classy but also slutty. The split at the thigh showed almost to her pussy, leaving a hint of mischief for a casual observer as to whether she was wearing underwear or not.
Of course he wouldn't allow her to. She knew that; he knew that, but the general population that she would meet whilst out when wearing it wouldn't.
Her heart pounded.
She prayed that she wouldn't recognize anyone wherever they went. As much as she was proud to be seen with her Dom, and as much as her confidence had increased for how she looked, there was still the slight embarrassment that she was looking very different to how she was usually perceived. No longer the buttoned up and conservative mom, she was going to look the drop dead sexy, provocative MILF instead.
It wasn't even the adults that she could potentially meet, but the younger members of the population that she dealt with in her daily work life. Would they look at her aghast? Judge her maybe? Would they look at her differently at work from then on?
Nothing naughty would be on view. Her breasts and pussy were never going to be displayed. But it was the hint of a vibrant, sexually active woman, unapologetic in her demeanor during private times that should be hers to revel in and enjoy without fear of comment or criticism.
They were going to drive out into the country, she had no doubt about that. She wouldn't need knickers as her pussy should be open and completely at her Dom's disposal. She would be wearing those highest heels as Sir liked her slightly off balance and dependent on him, along with the shape that her muscles made when under duress. And because he liked her legs, as much of them would be on display as possible between shoes and skirt.
It was nice he liked them. He was always stroking them and she did know that he had wanked at home looking at them. She often thought about encasing them in stockings or stay ups. A short skirt of course would reveal the stocking tops which was a classic slutty look that tights didn't give.
As the weather was due to get colder, and potentially cold on their day together, she thought she might have to explore that particular clothing option in the future. It was no point asking him about whether she was allowed tights, not unless she could cut out the crotch as an incentive for him to say yes.
Would they stay intact and reusable if she did? Maybe that was a thought that could be explored or whether she couldn't be bothered with asking a question that she already knew the answer to, and she just wore stockings and suspenders as normal attire, whether or not she was with him at the time.
She was used to large voluminous skirts at work. No one need know what was beneath. And if Sir liked her stocking tops on display during their times together? Well, that really was his prerogative.
And if she felt like a slut at the time, then she would just have to keep tissues to hand to mop between her legs when she needed to.
...
The evening out was planned to commence her twenty four hours of slavery and her prior expectations of the organisation were one of a remote public house somewhere with a log fire where no one would have seen her before or know her name. A romantic and very nice experience that would keep a limited pulse rate before they returned home.
It seemed almost normal that he picked her up during the darkening evening and helped her to the car. Climbing the garden steps to the road in her stilettos was almost effortless while clinging to his arm, but it was with relief she slid into the passenger seat of his car before too many neighbours were sighted at their windows intrigued by the click clack of her heels.
As he walked round to access the driver's seat, she unbuttoned her leather brown coat and opened it across her chest. It was still warm in the car. The blouse beneath tented slightly at each nipple as the journey from house to the vehicle had caused some chaffing whilst her breasts bounced unrestrained. The leather skirt was riding up her leg, the split accentuating the stocking tops and offering the view of a large portion of her creamy white thigh.
She was aware of his appreciative glance as he swung into his own seat and smiled happily at his pleasure.
The drive through the city was a relaxing experience, his trailing hand on her knee when not required to change gear, feeling electric shocks of excitement as he almost absent-mindedly cupped her thigh flesh above the stockings whilst maintaining a conversation and concentration on the road.
Several times she closed her eyes as his little finger coursed down her flesh into the gap between her thighs, glancing occasionally against the intuitive unfurling of her inner labia as they poked out erotically for attention.
But it was with surprise that she heard the indicator used and felt the car slow down to turn onto a rough track. Opening her eyes, she watched the headlamps pick out the sign at foot of the track saying Stockhill Woods. This didn't look like a pub. Had they come here to eat?
Sitting up a little more with curiousity, she was aware of her man's caution on his approach onto the potholed ground and the fact that his lights were picking out several other dark cars dotted around the outskirts of what was essentially a circular piece of scrub ground.
He slowly drove the circle, maintaining a small distance from each car in turn, but establishing that there were indeed people inside each. Perhaps this was the parking for a nearby Inn and they were just collecting their thoughts before making their way on foot down a path?
He made the circle again, and this time she noticed that strangely, most of the cars only held one occupant. As she looked across to him to remark on this fun fact, the truth of the matter hit her.
This was a dogging carpark. These cars were most likely full of men. Men on their own or with their mates. Drunk or horny or frustrated men. Men with a desire for a woman but with nowhere to go for one and with balls full of spunk looking for somewhere to dump it.
Her mouth made an almost perfect O as the realisation hit her and the car slowed to a halt. They looked at each other without speaking. This had been a fantasy of hers for so long but the idea of fantasy and actuality were often polar extremes.
She had used the idea of faceless men wanking over her to cum before now, imagining putting on a show for them, letting strangers see her body. Touch her body. Even invade her orifices without restraint or invitation on occasional nights when she was feeling inebriated or mellow.
She had fantasised about what they would do to her; how frequently they would take her; how demanding they would be. Her sex-brain had explored the concept as her fingers and toys had explored between her legs, and thought about all the cocks stiff at the view of her body. It had made for countless explosive orgasms over the years.
And now?
What was the reality?
The reality was that if she were alone, there would be the fear that one strange man would go too far. The fantasy was that she wouldn't say no... couldn't say no. The reality was a little fear of that concept. Could it become more of an attack rather than a mutually agreed experience? She didn't know how excited any of them would become or how nasty they could get. This was a concern. Or conversely, what if they weren't bothered? What if they were waiting for someone else? What if she wasn't good enough?
