This story is a follow on from
Vanessa's submission.
It is a stand-alone story that covers an event that happened post the events in that story, and as a direct result of that day.
I need to thank my Lit friend Ken for help with spelling and punctuation.
I am Vanessa, a 55-year-old married professional lady. I work in accountancy. We have a son, 26, who has now grown and flown the nest. I stand 5'5" tall and have mousey brown hair and grey blue eyes. I'm a little overweight, size 14 with a 36" bust. Normally I sport a trimmed bush but have recently shaved and waxed my entire pubic area.
I had recently started reading erotica which led to chatting and finding myself an online Master. He set me small, and naughty, tasks leading up to a meeting with Master, and others.
The events in this story occurred a couple of weeks after my first face to face meeting with Master. We had been in touch via our normal channels with him setting me mini tasks; knickerless shopping with an aim of flashing my butt plug, more nude drives and naked Moor walks.
Then one day he asked if I was ready for another meet up, but with a difference. The university lads from our last meeting had asked if I could be the entertainment at a party they were holding. Master had agreed. He went on to explain that by entertainment they meant a set of fuck holes. I felt humiliated that those lads saw me as nothing more than a sex object, but that was what my Master wanted. It was also flattering that they had found me attractive enough that they wanted more of me. I admit I was aroused by the idea; imagining such an event shot a bolt of lightning through my body and a felt a dampening in my panties. Even my knees weakened.
"Fuck-toy would like that Master, she will not let you down," I gushed.
"You had better not, you are upholding my reputation as a Master."
He went on to tell me that he would pick me up later that day and take me to see Ryan so that what was expected could be explained. He told me to dress in a gaudy manner for the meeting. I was to wear black stockings and suspenders and black heels, a short dress, no panties, and a push up bra. My butt plug was to be in as usual.
When he picked me up late in the morning he commented that he was pleased with my look, "you look like a desperate slut," were his words. I, of course, thanked him.
Before we set off, he lowered the roof on his car and had me hike my dress up so that it was above my stocking tops. The drive took us out of my housing estate and onto a dual carriageway. I could feel the wind whipping the hem of my dress. I noticed that every time we were passing vans or lorries Master would do it slowly, giving the drivers the opportunity to see my legs. Further into the drive he pulled in behind a coach that was obviously full of football fans on the way to a game.
"Get your dress up around your waist fuck toy, "he growled, "and get your tits out."
As we pulled out to pass, he turned to me, "spread your legs and hold those tits up."
Slowly he began to overtake the coach, he beeped the car horn a few times and quickly the coach windows filled up with faces leering at me. I was so horny; I had actually dropped one hand and was fingering myself.
Once we passed the coach he pulled back in in front of it and asked me if I enjoyed the exposure.
"Yes Master, fuck-pig enjoyed her humiliation," I replied. I was sopping wet, my fingers slick with my juices, my nipples were hard like little corks.
He slowed the car explaining that those on the left of the coach needed a view as well. Sure enough the coach started overtaking us and when it was about halfway past us Master started to match the speed giving them an extended view of me plunging my fingers into my pussy and pinching my nipples.
I did not look up except for brief glances at the faces in the windows. Each glance at
the rapt faces brought a spasm to my core and a flush to my face and chest. I
struggled not to cum as Master had not yet given permission. The battle to maintain
control brought a rigidity to my muscles and caused my throat to tighten. My breath
came in gasps as I struggled for control.
"Okay slut, make yourself cum". I sped my frigging up and in next to no time I was climaxing in the car.
"I think your audience appreciated that slut. Give them a wave."
I looked up to see at least 20 faces staring down at me, grinning and clapping. It was degrading, but so exhilarating at the same time. I had essentially just masturbated in front of 40 plus men. I waved to them as Master accelerated and pulled clear of the coach and many waved back at me.
Master allowed me to cover up, or mostly so as I had to leave my stocking tops on show, for the rest of our journey.
We pulled up in a street in the middle of student land. However, before we got out of the car, I saw someone I recognised. It was the son of a friend of ours coming out of one of the houses.
In shock I asked Master, "we are not going there, are we?" I pointed to the door of the house.
"Yes slut, how did you know?"
I explained that I knew the lad who had just left and that he knew me. Master told me not to worry I could be disguised but, nonetheless, I was apprehensive that my secret life could be discovered.
We got out of the car and made our way to the house. We were greeted by one of the skateboarders from my previous outing. He shook hands with Master and then turned to me, "hello again, fuck-pig."
"Hello sir," I automatically replied. I then voiced my concerns about the fact that I had seen my friend's son, Marc, leaving the premises.
He asked if Marc had ever seen me in a bikini and how well he knew me. I told him that he had seen me at a pool bbq at his parent's home and that he only knew me to the extent that we would say hello and that he knew my son when they had played for the same football team when they were younger. The pair of them decided that a disguise would be easy. A fake tramp stamp and a wig should suffice. I was sceptical, and a little concerned but did not want to let Master, or myself, down so I kept my thoughts to myself.
Ryan went on to explain that for the evening I would be in a doorway bent over a trestle, bound at the waist, ankles, and wrists. I would be half in the kitchen area, and my top half would be in a utility area. A curtain would be draped over me so that those in the utility area would see my boobs and head. Those in the kitchen would see my lower back and arse. It occurred to me that I would not be able to see anyone in the kitchen.
Master asked, "how many are you expecting?"
"Twenty to twenty-five," came the reply.