Diary Of A Lesbian Love Slave Pt 06

1.

Today after the massages my Mistress popped open a bottle of Champagne. It disappeared quickly and was replaced by another. Next thing I knew I was in the bedroom, 69ing with Nikki as my Mistress stood over us tightening the harness of her strap-on.

The rest of the afternoon was a delicious blur, but one moment in particular stands out in my mind: My Mistress had just pulled out of Nikki's pussy and slid the strap-on into my mouth. I was savoring the sweet taste of our combined juices -- the dildo had been inside me just minutes before -- when I felt Nikki's lips clamp onto my clit. I came so hard I felt faint, and then I just started to laugh, and laughed so hard I almost cried.

Afterward I made dinner -- fried chicken, using my mother's recipe, and mashed potatoes. Once we were all full and happy, Nikki took off, and my Mistress retired to her study to catch up on some work before the start of the week. I cleaned up the kitchen and now I have some time to write.

2.

So where was I in the story of how we got together? Ah, my first time in the dungeon. Afterward my Mistress took me out to a late dinner at an Italian restaurant in town -- our first time in public together. I felt proud to be be with Her, but also nervous; I felt like everyone in the restaurant was looking at us, and judging me not nearly glamorous enough.

But after a couple glasses of wine and some antipasti I calmed down and started enjoying myself. My Mistress is a wonderful storyteller and always makes me laugh, and before I knew it the restaurant was closing and we had to leave.

When she dropped me off at home I was disappointed -- I hated to leave Her, and had hoped she'd invite me to spend the night. But it would be a while before I started sleeping there regularly. My Mistress told me later that she'd made a point of taking it slow. She'd learned the hard way, she said, what happened when you rushed into things.

The next day she left for another business trip and I didn't hear from Her all week. To distract myself I started going to the gym every day, spending long hours lifting weights and running on the treadmill, improving myself for Her.

Finally on Saturday morning she sent a text telling me to put on my sexiest underwear and come over. At the time I didn't really have any fancy underthings -- my budget didn't allow it -- but I put on my best bra and panties and checked myself out in the mirror. After all the exercise I was feeling good about my body, so I thought I looked pretty hot despite the not entirely flattering cut of the lingerie.

It was raining out and I decided to just wear my raincoat over the underwear. I felt delightfully naughty walking through the neighborhood that way, knowing that I was on my way to offer myself to Her.

I arrived at Her house soaking wet but elated. When I took off the raincoat, though, I could see by the look on Her face that she was not impressed.

"That's your sexiest underwear, hmmm?" I reddened at the criticism, though Her wry smile showed that she was more amused than annoyed. "Well, we'll take care of that." Waving Her hand, she said, "Take that off now."

I hastened to obey, then noticed that she had my collar hanging on a nail by the door. Only once I was naked, collared, and kneeling did she deign to lean over and kiss me. Then she turned and headed toward the living room. I followed on my hands and knees, feeling warm and happy inside, knowing I was right where I belonged.

3.

The next morning my Mistress had told me to come to her house at 11 A.M. sharp. "We have some shopping to do," she said.

But when I got there she sat me down for a cup of coffee first. "Client dinner," she explained as she poured herself an extra-large French roast. "Late night. But I think we won the deal."

As we left I went to take off my collar, which I was being trained to put on as soon as I entered the house, but my Mistress stopped me. "It's appropriate for where we're going," she explained.

At first I felt a little self-conscious wearing it in the car where people could see; but then, I realized, how would anyone know what it meant? And also, wasn't it special to be publicly identified as Hers? I stopped slouching in my seat and sat up straight.

She drove us to an upscale shopping area on the outskirts of town and pulled up in front of a shop that was set somewhat apart from the others, marked by a simple sign that read "Miranda's Garden." The blinds in front were drawn and a sign on the door said "Closed," but a few seconds after my Mistress knocked it swung open and we were ushered inside.

Before us stood a tall, slim Asian woman in a white peasant blouse and short, black leather skirt. It was an incongruous outfit that somehow worked perfectly on her. She had high, chiseled cheekbones, lively light brown eyes, and shoulder-length straight black hair. I was immediately smitten.

"Miranda, this is Sam," said my Mistress, and we all exchanged pleasantries. Miranda asked if we wanted something to drink, and my Mistress asked if she had mimosas.

"But of course," said Miranda, batting her eyes coquettishly. As she left to pour the drinks I looked around the shop. It was filled with two things: plants and lingerie. French doors at the back stood open lending a view of an extensive garden, through which a warm breeze scented with lavender and honeysuckle was blowing.

For a few minutes Miranda and my Mistress traded small talk and gossip. Apparently they had known each other for a long time. Then Miranda looked me up and down appraisingly and said, "So what did you have in mind?"

"A little of everything," my Mistress replied.

Miranda started bringing out things for me to try on, starting with a bunch of bra-and-panty sets. When I asked where the fitting room was, Miranda just smiled.

"That won't be necessary," my Mistress piped up. "Miranda's like... a doctor." They both giggled at that. I shrugged and started taking off my clothes. By the time I was naked my nipples were fully erect and I felt my pussy begin to moisten, very aware of the two sets of eyes on me.

Over the next couple of hours I tried on underwear, teddies, garter belts, camisoles, chemises, stockings, and a few other things I didn't even know the name of. All the time Miranda and my Mistress kept up a running commentary on what looked best.

Occasionally Miranda would get up to make an adjustment to something I was wearing, and as time went on her hands started to linger on me more and more, stroking my nipples and occasionally exploring between my legs. Several times I looked over at my Mistress to see if she approved of these liberties being taken, and she nodded Her approval.

I felt a little sheepish about how wet I was getting -- I was already very turned on just by the modeling, and Miranda's ministrations only made the situation worse. Many of the things I didn't end up taking home were going to have to be washed before going back on the racks, or else whoever bought them would get some of my pussy juice as part of the deal.

But Miranda didn't seem concerned, so I decided not to worry about it. By the time we were done there was a substantial pile of stuff in the "keeper" pile and I was half out of my mind from the insistent throbbing in my nether regions. For a minute I just stood there awkwardly. To get dressed now and go home would have been terribly anticlimactic; but I didn't feel like it was up to me to make a move.

Finally my Mistress pointed to indicate that I was to kneel. I did so. She pointed again to indicate I should get on my hands and knees; I did so. She crooked Her finger for me to approach, and when I was in front of Her she hooked that finger into my collar.

"Sam," she said, "why don't you show the nice lady you appreciate all the time and attention she's given us?"