Lost in a card game
'Your master has decided on a trip to Las Vegas,' Bob said.
Her head was on his chest, after a heavy love making session. He felt her stiffen, ever so slightly.
'I'll book a luxury room, and we can enjoy the desert heat, together,' he added.
She relaxed and looked up at him with a great big smile. For a moment she thought he was going without her, and was worried how to cope without him. It was firmly embedded in her mind that she was his slave, and she was therefore completely dependent upon him.
'Have you ever been?' he asked.
'Your slave hasn't, master. Your slave is looking forward to it,' she warmly smiled.
She diligently avoided saying "no" to her master. Likewise, Bob fell into her pattern of speech, even though he wanted to cure her of playing the slave game. He simply gave in to her foibles and joined in to play the game. Not that it was possible to complain when such lively sex was the result.
'Slave will make breakfast, master' she enthused.
'No, slave. We'll eat out, just make a quick coffee,' he ordered.
Even his tone of voice had changed, to being forceful and commanding. It was easy to do after so many years employing engineers, and misbehaving apprentices. She thrived on being put in her place, and was pleased to be directed, rather than think for herself.
'The first thing we need to do is buy you some suitable clothing. I want you looking your best,' he explained.
Jane looked pleased and appreciative. Her husband had been mean, and she never had so many clothes bought for her until here with her master. She kept quiet as he ticked off on one hand the arrangements that had to be made.
***
She trotted along to keep up with him, as he strode through the mall, into an upmarket store. He picked a dress, with her guidance to size. Standing in front of a mirror, it clearly fitted her better than the previous cheap garments bought at the supermarket. He looked at the dress, and her expression.
'I know, it's not cheap. Buy cheap and buy twice. Though I'm guessing that doesn't apply to women's clothes. Who heard of a woman wearing out a party dress. It doesn't look right does it,' he said, when finally understanding the expression.
He knew little about women's clothes, but for some reason it wasn't right.
'OK, you're the expert, you choose. I'll give the assistant a credit card, so just get what you need, alright?' he asked.
With a sigh of relief, he was off the hook. As her master, he was supposed to be looking after her, and keeping her happy. This was hitting the spot. In return he was getting all he could wish for. A simple straightforward relationship, the house cleaned up, and great sex into the bargain.
When she appeared from the cubicle to twist and turn in front of a mirror, her expression confirmed it was spot on. Her long blond hair spiralled around her head as she quickly turned. He could see there was a difference, though he wasn't sure what it was. The simple, powder blue cotton dress hugged her figure, without being cheap looking. She looked a million dollars to him, and worth every penny.
'Thank you master,' she warmly smiled.
He thought about last night, and figured it was a bargain.
'What about another one of those, in a different colour?' he suggested.
'Maybe something different, master?' she asked.
'Whatever you want, slave,' he smiled back.
'I'll need shoes with this dress,' she pointed out.
He sighed, huffed and puffed, then agreed. 'Best get a purse and hat to match,' he relented. The look of amusement she gave him, indicated the hat was either going too far, or unnecessary. 'Never mind, you do your thing. I'll go find a coffee shop, there must be one here somewhere,' he said.
He looked up from the newspaper to see a woman standing close. It took a moment to fathom it was his slave.
'Wow!' he exclaimed, looking impressed.
The look of appreciation had her tummy fluttering with pride. Husbands sitting at other tables had the same idea, of leaving their wives to shop. They looked at her over the top of magazines and newspapers, with wistful looks. When Bob looked around with a harsh glare, they rustled the newspapers, pretending not to be staring.
Feeling naughty, she lifted the skirt, to show him stocking tops, with a hint of suspenders tightly gripping them. It was so much more fun being a slut! On top of that, being a slave meant she could leave moral decisions to her master. He looked around to make sure no-one else had seen what was for his eyes only. Satisfaction from his look of proud ownership, rippled through her entire body.
'You're glowing, slave. You look so damn good,' he happily remarked.
They had a coffee and a croissant, while talking about this and that. They avoided anything to do with their mutual past. They shared ambitions for their daughters education, and what problems the future might throw at them.
'I've made arrangements with Margaret, to make sure Louise has an allowance, so no need to worry about that,' he told her.
'Your slave doesn't worry, master. My master looks after slave so well, slave doesn't have to think about anything,' she stated.
He should have picked up on the comment. He took it as another compliment, for buying her clothes and anything else she wanted. She had told the truth, that she didn't worry, or even think for herself, for she had become completely dependent upon him for all decisions in this new life style.
'Master,' she hesitantly spoke.
'Yes?' he said, cocking his head to one side, wondering what she wanted to ask.
'Thank you for the outfits, they are lovely,' she smiled.
