1.
Like most online encounters, it started with flirtation and creative writing, at a basic level. Over the weeks, though, it became something more. I felt like my new online domme, Ms. Sabrina, was one of the few who really knew me and the other hidden side of my mind and my life. We began to talk of real life, my recent divorce, the professional career I spent all my time on, her career as a business owner in Florida, and then her home and her invitation. A simple weekend trip, she said, some sunshine and the ocean, a break from the cold weather, and a new chance to explore these ideas.
It took a while, but the idea grew, and on one very cold and slushy night up north I accepted. As I told her, I was very interested in an ongoing online relationship, or perhaps long term role play scenes. I was a long time submissive with fairly wide experience, and a few limits in real time. I told her I could deal with pain but that was not my main interest; what excited me more were the ideas of humiliation, BDSM, restraint, costumes, service, and hard use. I am not much of a romantic sunset walk on the beach sort of person in this life, and I was not a bratty sub- what was the point of that? I had a few photos, mostly ones I got my ex to take a long time ago, but trading pictures was not my goal here either. I loved the thrill of new ideas, back then, and the extra humiliation of having to admit to a younger domme that under my vanilla exterior is an inner slut.
The next day, my email contained an e-ticket, Jet Blue for next Saturday morning, and an early arrival in Florida. My mind was full of nothing else, as I spent the week catching up on work, planning a sudden short weekend vacation, and trying to imagine what to wear, what to bring, and where this would lead me. I was sitting on the plane, dressed as I thought she might like-a crisp gabardine pencil skirt, a stylish blouse, stockings and heels, a contrasting jacket. It was a special effort, not the usual casual clothes I wore for longer flights. As she instructed, for the first time in my adult life I wore no panties and no bra, which made me feel very exposed and conscious of the feel and weight of my breasts with every move.
2
When the door of the plane opened, I stepped into the steamy humidity of the access bridge with my roller bag, striding quickly through the airport, carrying my new sunglasses. It was new and exciting, and my work week was forgotten. She had said she would arrange a pickup, not to bring much luggage, and just look for my name on a card.
Walking out into late afternoon sunshine, I was finding my sunglasses and blinking. Looking around, at the crowds of meeting families, I saw the sign I was looking for,'Gold2'. The person with sign was a young woman, a lot younger than my 38 years, and pretty too. She was dressed like an employee, wearing a white polo shirt with a small logo, a short navy wrap skirt, sandals, and big sunglasses with her Florida tan.
I handed her my roller bag, as she said "Jennifer, right? Just follow me". She was off through the crowd, headed for the parking, so I had to trot in my tall heels to keep up. Watching her skirt swing, with her strong tan legs exposed, I realized as she turned that she had no bra under her shirt, either. I had dressed for my flight as I had been told, wearing my best skirted suit and an open neck blouse with no bra and no panties.
The car was a dark sedan, not a limo, but with gunmetal gray leather seats, and dark metallic paint, parked in a corner of the garage, with locks that opened with a 'thunk'. I was left waiting a moment, as she put my bag into the trunk. She came around to open a rear door for me, and took my purse, the designer style I had thought would be very impressive. "Jennifer, remove your skirt and give it to me, now. Ms. Sabrina has requested that."
I was surprised and looked up sharply. What was she asking? Here? "Ahh, I'm sorry miss, what did you say?" I replied, talking down to her in my best executive voice. I looked around and saw we were alone here next to the car.
"Jennifer, I am not asking you again. You will be in trouble with Ms. Sabrina if you cannot listen better than this. She has a rule, for new submissives. Remove your skirt now and get your ass in the car, we will be late."
My face went red, but I couldn't see her eyes in the sunglasses. I realized that she already had my purse and my bag, and it was too late to change the planned week ahead of me now. I slowly unzipped my gabardine skirt and slide it down, over my thigh-high dark stockings and tan heels. As she folded it, I was standing next to the car with bare ass, in jacket and heels. I slid in, with the unusual feeling of my bare skin on the leather seat chilled by the air conditioning. She nudged me over to sit at the center of seat, and pointed at me to spread my legs wide. Before she closed the door, she slipped a steel handcuff on my left wrist and locked it to the handle above the door inside the car.
As she slid into the driver's seat, I saw myself in the mirror, my arm lifted up with one breast exposed as the jacket gapped, my bare skin and pussy visible with my legs spread, and my pale skin displayed on the gray leather. She handed me a cool bottle of water, for my free hand, and smiled to see me exposed like that. I realized I had not really objected, and I did not know her name, or what to expect in my five days with Ms Sabrina. The car moved off, going quickly from the shady garage back into the Florida sun.
3.
We drove for half an hour and I had to twist around to check the watch on my handcuffed wrist held high. I kept my legs wide, as instructed, and I saw the driver checking me in the mirror. My exposed thighs and pussy became chilled by the air conditioner she had turned up high, and my nipples were hard, rubbing my blouse with no bra. We drove through nameless Florida suburbs, and then pulled into a small shopping area, driving behind the low buildings in late afternoon sun.
I was surprised when the car stopped there, and the driver came to open my door. "Jennifer, Ms. Sabrina has asked me to get you some things you will need here. All you have to do is obey. If you don't, I will leave you here on the street, just as you are- half naked, no purse or ID, no way to get back home up North. Do as I say."
There did not seem to be a choice at that point, so when she unlocked the handcuff and held it I slid out of the car, my ass sticking to the leather seat. She walked me to a metal door, the rear door of a store, and I was in heels and stockings, bottomless, and with nowhere to go. She knocked, and the door opened; we were in the back room of a hardware store, and the gray haired owner was smiling past me at the driver, as his eyes took in my naked pussy. "Another one, so soon?"
She smiled, said nothing, and pushed me forward to his grimy workbench. He was still smiling, and went off to the shelves, coming back with a roll of flat metal chain, made of gray steel. "Ok, hold still, let's get this right."
He reached around my body, bringing a loop of chain to rest on my hips, holding it not too tight while he measured off more and cut it with a tool. His fingers were on my skin, as he fastened the end with a rivet tool, which I realized could now only be cut off, not unfastened. I had cold chain lying flat on my skin, resting on my ass and hips, below my belly, with a free length of chain hanging down between my legs. He adjusted the chain, and then reached for a metal tag and a fitting. He shows me the dull brass tag, with a smile and a wave of bad breath: "Five". I realized it was like a pet tag, with an owner's phone number on the back. It hung between my legs, clinking with the chain against my thighs. He adjusted it and slid his hand between my legs, to take a free feel of my pussy.
The young woman driver was watching arms crossed over her chest, checking her watch. She smiled when he took out a camera, 'flash, clickkkkk' to photograph me half naked in the chain belt." You want to see the others?" He laughed as he showed me the camera screen- four other similar shots, blonde and brunette women, all naked from the waist down, standing in this same dusty workshop wearing different Florida vacation outfits, each looking surprised with a chain and a tag. I had gone in an hour from a visiting business professional off to see her new Mistress to just another slut in a slave chain.
The driver led me outside, but instead of opening the car she held my arm and pulled me past two more stores, to knock on another door. The hanging chain brushed my thighs as I walked in my high heels, the metal tag clinking. I was becoming used to the humiliating exposure, when we were let into the second store. We were in the back room of a women's store, with boxes and racks and shelves of cheap clothing and lingerie in too-bright colors, a long way from the higher-end stores I usually visit. The Cuban woman at the door laughed out loud to see me this way.
"Deborah, you got a nice one this time. You have her things?"