A Collar

A Collar

"Yes?" I answered the ringing cell phone, after digging it out of my purse,
which was in turn sitting upon the dining room table. I was running late. I
needed to be ready when my Mistress arrived. She gave me strict instructions as
to what I was to wear and say when she showed up.

I answered the phone in haste. I did not look at the caller ID. I still had to
blow dry my hair and put on my makeup. Masturbating in the shower at Mistress'
orders took a little longer than I planned. She was scheduled to be at my front
door at exactly seven thirty PM. My clock now read six fifty one.

A melodic voice answered mine from the tiny speaker of my cellular phone. "Is
that any way to speak to your Mistress?" She asked.

My heart leapt into my throat. I was a fool to not have looked at the caller ID.
I wanted to do so now, quickly, just a peek to see where she called from, but I
did not dare. What if Mistress spoke to me while I had the phone away from my
ear? I might have missed something important and be chastised severely for it
later. No, I decided that couldn't take such a risk.

"Please forgive me," I said sheepishly, "I did not realize it was you Mistress."

"True, and why should you? I'm early. Buzz me in."

I panicked, but managed to quickly answer. "Yes Mistress." I said and then
pressed the star key on my phone's face. Then she called from the front door of
my apartment building!

My flat was in slight disarray. I had to clean up a bit. But I was not ready to
go out yet either! I quickly threw the few articles of clothing that lay on my
bed into the dirty clothes hamper within my closet. Then I made the bed in
haste, wiped off my sink, and piled the newspapers, books, and magazines in a
neat pile upon my coffee table. At least the place would have the look of
ordered disarray.

Just then I heard a knock at my door. I bolted for the latch and swung the
mahogany slab open, stepping calmly aside and lowering my eyes. Mistress entered
quickly and then waited while I secured the door.

I took her coat and hung it in the closet near my own. I offered to remove her
shoes, but she chose to keep them on her feet. One tapped the hardwood floor of
my apartment until I knelt in proper greeting.

I blushed a bit as I sank to my knees. My ankles crossed right over left as I
did so. My wrists also crossed behind my back as I leaned forward slightly. My
lips pressed against the leather of each boot twice. It was her preference. Then
I waited on my knees for her command to rise.

Her fingers played in my still damp hair. I smiled a bit at the thought of just
how much she liked to see me fresh from the shower and scrambling to please her.
It was not just a Domme's desire to see her submissive scramble. She genuinely
liked to see me fresh faced. She also seemed to like my skin warm as when I just
stepped from a hot shower or bath.

I purred audibly as she stroked my hair. I couldn't see Mistress' face looking
down at the floor as I was, but I could feel her smile. The room grew warmer,
but not in temperature, in sentiment.

Then her fingers traced one side of my face. A sharp red fingernail pressed the
bottom of my chin and lifted my gaze to hers. "You're not ready." She said.

It was a statement. I knew better than to answer statements. She was making a
point. If she wanted an explanation, humble advice, or banter then she would ask
for it in specific terms. I kept my mouth shut.

She stared at me for a long moment, literally holding my attention. I grew
nervous. I did not normally meet Mistress' eyes. I did my best to keep from
fidgeting. I kept my wrists tight against each other and did the same for my
ankles.

Mistress must have noticed. She smiled. I breathed a tiny sigh of relief to see
it. "Finish preparing yourself pet. We've reservations." She said.

"Yes Mistress." I replied and then rose from the ground. My knees ached just a
bit from kneeling on the hard surface. The skirt Mistress had me wear that day
was not long enough to cover my knees. Even if it had been, it was too thin to
offer any cushion.

Mistress told me what to wear that night by e-mail. I'd dressed according to her
wishes, which always thrilled me. It meant that she wanted my appearance to be
especially appealing. It usually signified a special evening. Though weather
this was to be a happy occasion or punishment, I couldn't tell just yet.

I'd racked my brain when I read the e-mail. I couldn't remember any substantial
mistake. Of course, I constantly made small mistakes. I adhered to her
preferences as best I could but each week I seemed to forget some small thing...
to sit with my legs together but not crossed, to bend at the waist while picking
up something light but bend at the knees when lifting something heavy, to
properly strain Mistress' grapefruit juice. I found it difficult to keep track
of so many little things.

I tried to remember though. I tried very hard. I'm just wise enough to realize
that the little things are what make any relationship, D/s or no, a success.
Besides, I loved to obsess over the little things. They were what could really
make a Domme smile, in my opinion. Wrapping a towel around Mistress after she
stepped from the shower is wonderful and courteous, but wrapping a large, fluffy
towel that has been warmed in an electric clothes dryer for a few minutes around
her delicate skin is even better.

But even the small mistakes I'd made that week had met with correction. Though
it was certainly her prerogative, I hoped that Mistress did not intend to have
me punished for them again. Perhaps one of my infractions was something that
happened a little too frequently?

Regardless, I'd dressed exactly to Mistress' specifications. I wore a very tight
black mini skirt that barely fell to the middle of my thighs. Thigh high
stockings were allowed me, so that I would not shiver myself silly in the winter
cold. A pair of high-heeled riding boots awaited my feet near the door.

The top I wore was made of black silk. It was cut to flatter my shape, and did
so quite well. The thin material also allowed my nipples to remain in prominent
view. It buttoned up the front with flat black buttons and had three-quarter
sleeves.

I was allowed no underwear. I was not to wear panties or a bra. And so I was
without those garments as I listened as Mistress' boots click, click, click into
the living room of my apartment.

She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. She looked stunning in a short black
skirt that was nearly identical to mine. She'd also dressed in black stockings,
a white blouse, and red lipstick. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail so
her beautiful face and seemingly sculpted cheekbones were quite prominent.

"May I please offer a drink Mistress? Would you like me to let your hair down
and perhaps brush it out?" I asked.

"No." Came her quick, cool reply, "I want you to finish preparing yourself for
the evening."

"Yes Mistress." I said. Then I returned to the bathroom and dried my hair. I
styled it as best I could and still be quick. It looked very nice when I
finished. I even managed to flip the ends out a bit with a curler or three. I
was proud. I hoped Mistress would be pleased. It was yet another small thing.

My makeup took a bit longer. Mistress had instructed me to wear a bit of mascara
that night along with my usual makeup. I hated wearing mascara. I found it messy
and I disliked getting anything that close to my eye. It frightened me, and that
fear made me feel silly... like I was some helpless little girl. Eyeliner was
different. I could trace the outside of my eye and not flinch. But when I tried
to apply mascara I couldn't seem to think of anything but how close the coated
bristles were to the cornea of my eye.

That night was no different. Between watering eyes and cringing, it took me
nearly fifteen minutes to put on mascara alone. Even then it was too thick. I
had to use a tissue and cotton swab to lessen it some before I was satisfied.

My dark blue, almost black, eye shadow went on quickly enough. I was accustomed
to wearing it. My dark purple lipstick took a bit longer. I normally only wore
lipstick during evenings that I went out. It took two applications before I had
even lines around my mouth. But when I finished I felt especially pretty.

When I returned to the living room I saw that Mistress was reading through a
magazine I left upon my coffee table. She smiled and beckoned me with one
finger. I approached slowly and stood on my toes when I stopped.

Mistress had me turn around in a circle. She then stood and touched away a
smudge of mascara from the corner of my left eye. I thanked her. She replied
with only another smile. Then she patted my rear and told me to bend over the
couch. I did so, and placed my hands upon the seat cushions. They were flat,
palms down.

I hard the click, click, clicking of Mistress' boots again as she walked into my
closet. The rustling of a few things followed. Then she returned. I dare not
look up.

"Spread your legs." came her simple command. I did, inching my feet apart until
she told me to stop. Then I felt something cold against rear entrance. A moment
later I felt rather full. I whimpered when her hand left me. I hadn't even
realized that she steadied me with one hand on my bum while her other hand
inserted a plug into my ass until the supporting hand was gone. I missed the
tender caress immediately.

"Good girl." Mistress said, "Now stand up and go to the bathroom. You've a bit
of lubricant sliding down your thigh. I don't want to ruin your stockings just
yet."

"At once Mistress." I said. I padded into the bathroom and tore a scrap of
toilet tissue from the roll. She did not want to ruin my stockings yet?
What could that mean? I wiped my thighs until I felt no chilly residue or
traveling droplets.

"You know..." Mistress' voice came suddenly from behind me. I hadn't heard her
creep up to me. I jumped a bit, turned toward her, and fastened my gaze upon her
collarbones. It was Mistress' preference that I lower my gaze when we spoke, but
not all the way to the floor. She liked to see my eyes. "You look very sexy with
your skirt bunched around your waist like that."

I blushed slightly and briefly wished I were allowed to lower my eyes to the
ground when conversing with Mistress. But I knew I couldn't hide my
embarrassment from her, even then. "Thank you Mistress." I replied, not knowing
what else to say.

"I'd like it to stay that way, but as I mentioned before, we've dinner
reservations."

"Yes Mistress," I answered while pulling my skirt down, "Would you like me to
fetch your car?"

Mistress cocked her head to one side in thought. "No, I think I'd rather walk
with you to the car." She said, "And I think you'll drive tonight." I nodded and
voiced my compliance. In the back of my mind I knew that every time Mistress had
me drive she teased me incessantly. But I was not very concerned about that at
the time. I was more worried with seeing Mistress' coat upon her, and then
fastening my own long, fluffy coat about my body.

I was allowed what I consider to be a great honor with Mistress Loren. She often
took my arm when we walked instead of the other way around. She let me guide her
around manhole covers, grates, puddles, and slippery surfaces while we
conversed. It let me keep her a bit safer. It also gave her the luxury of
rambling off about any subject she wished, getting lost in thought or simple
conversation, at any time.

That night she put her gloves on as we descended to street level in my apartment
building's elevator, and then hooked her hand around my elbow once we were
outside. I smiled and thanked her. She returned the smile and pointed to the
left.

"The car is this way pet." She said, the cold making clouds of her breath, "I
had to park a block away, on the other side of the gray office building." I
thanked her again and followed her lead in that direction.

The car's engine was still rather warm as Mistress' drive from the suburbs to
the city typically took a minimum of ten minutes. The heater shed the chill from
us quickly once inside. I let the red convertible idle for a bit before asking
instructions.

"I want you to drive us to Paulo's." Mistress instructed, "Park in the lot
across from the restaurant. It's the lot near Nordstrom. I want to walk with you
for a while before dinner."

I lifted my eyebrows involuntarily as I placed my hand on the gearshift. Ms
Loren loved Mexican food. The first time I visited her she took me to Paulo's.
It is a Mexican restaurant on the South side of town. It's also where we signed
our first and second Dominance and submission contracts. So Paulo's had a
certain place in my heart.

Perhaps Mistress only wished to have good Mexican food. But she had me dress for
the occasion. She also wished me to park three blocks from the restaurant. I
wondered what she had up her sleeve.

"But before you do that," Mistress added, lifting the open edge of my coat away
from my body, "Open your coat. I want to play with you."

I blushed but complied quickly. I unfastened my seat belt and reengaged the
emergency brake. Then I untied the sash of my long, black, crushed velvet coat.
I parted the edges so they hung open over the seats. I think Mistress nearly
purred as she slipped her hands between my thighs as I refastened the seat belt.

Driving was a bit difficult. I was challenged to keep my mind on the road while
Mistress' soft fingers with sharp, red claws played at the lips of my sex. She
was careful though. She pulled away and only stroked the laced edges of my
stockings when I had to navigate through any great number of cars. I was teased
only when it seemed safe to do so.

However, most of the way was rather devoid of traffic. Mistress was sure to have
me stay from the main roads. As such, I was quite wet when we finally parked in
the lot near downtown and Nordstrom.

Mistress took my arm as we walked from her parked car. I proudly and carefully
guided her around gratings and blemishes in the sidewalk. Then, just as I opened
the restaurant's door for her she stopped. Her hand lifted my chin so that my
gaze met hers.

She asked, in a very serious tone, "Do you trust me?"

It caught me quite off guard. I didn't understand why she would ask such a
thing. Just the previous night I was securely bound to her bed and gagged while
she ran the edges of very sharp knives over my skin. I signed not one but two
year long contracts that pledged my service to her. I would give considerable
thought to pledging my entire life to her. How could I not trust her
seemed like a more apt question. What did she have planned that she felt a need
for such reassurance?

But I swallowed all of that, nodded slightly, and replied promptly, "Yes Ms
Loren... implicitly." I breathed a sigh of relief when she merely nodded,
dropped my chin, and stepped into the restaurant. Perhaps she didn't notice the
trembling of my voice.

Dinner was fabulous as usual. Mistress ordered for me, but was kind enough to
ask what I would like before doing so. I was flattered. If only she would allow
me to help pay for the meal I would have been truly happy. The prices on the
menu were quite high and I hated having someone spend a lot of cash on me.

We spoke vaguely of politics and a local scandal that made the news over the
past few weeks. I kept up with it, as Mistress seemed interested. And indeed,
that evening I was glad that I had done so. Then the conversation took a
different turn while waiting for dessert.

"The collar I have you wear is quite fetching." She said, before taking a small
sip of wine.

"I agree." I replied, thinking of the beautiful swath of leather. It had silver
buckles and dipped in a small "V" at the front. There, in the center of that "V"
was a well-placed, sturdy, stainless steel ring.

Mistress seemed to love that little ring. It was just big enough she could put
her thumb through it, though she usually used her index finger. She sometimes
would lead me here or there in such a fashion. Occasionally she used a leash but
leads were usually reserved for private parties.

I wasn't allowed to wear the collar outside of circumstances Mistress considered
to be safe. Her preference was that I only wore her collar when she knew for a
fact that everyone in close proximity practiced some aspect of BDSM. Mistress
held a position of authority in our city and didn't wish to have her kinky
nature used against her. It's something I understood and a preference I adhered
to with great care.

As such, I wasn't allowed to wear the beautiful leather collar out very often. A
few private parties were the usual exception. A night at a leather bar in New
York when we vacationed was also deemed safe. It wasn't really something I
thought about much. I merely did it. If it kept Mistress from losing her job or
being harassed, then I was certainly all for it.

"I've been thinking lately that I'd like you to wear a collar more often."
Mistress said, smiling that I was so obviously lost in thought.

"Not in public?" I asked, a bit shocked at her suggestion. When Mistress looked
at me with raised eyebrows I swallowed hard, lowered my eyes, and said
sheepishly, "Please forgive me Loren. I was... what you said is a contradiction
of what you've had me do in the past. I apologize for speaking so abruptly and
without respect."

As with most things related to Dominance and submission, Mistress had me drop
her title when in public. If we were out shopping, dining, or what not, she was
simply "Loren." It was difficult for me to remember at first, but became
significantly easier after a few harsh reprimands.

"Yes sara, I am serious. I think it would be a great boon to our relationship.
You have been especially forgetful of my preferences lately. Perhaps something
tight around your neck as a reminder that you are mine would be just the thing
to keep you from being such a forgetful slut."

I was very surprised. "I would dearly love that but, with respect Loren, are you
sure that's wise?" I asked.

"No." Mistress stated flatly, "It probably isn't. At least I can't have you
wearing that obvious piece of leather out of the house. Besides, I want it on
you at all times, even in the shower. We both know that water does nasty things
to leather. And leather can be cut off with ease. Something more permanent would
be ideal. Something metal."

"But..."

"Yes, yes, I know what you are about to say. Stop being such a ninny. I know
that you are concerned for my safety. I'm touched pet. I truly am. But don't be
so uptight!" I blinked and merely stared at Ms Loren. She laughed and lifted her
wine glass. "To your new collar," She said as a toast, "May it keep you in
line."

I blushed and raised my glass, peering around to see if anyone was
eavesdropping. I knew Mistress was right. I was being a bit too uptight. But
what if someone saw me with the collar on and knew I was Ms Loren's girlfriend?
They would surely put two and two together.

And then my fears multiplied. When I turned my attention back to Ms Loren I saw
her pull a small package from her purse and set it on the table with a thud. I
looked from the package to Mistress' face and back. She laughed.

"Yes sara, it's what you think it is." She said.

"But Loren, I..."

"No." Mistress chided me, "Stop it. I'm the one who makes the rules here. I made
you think of my safety and that's well and good. But you're taking it too far.
I'm your..."

Mistress paused and lowered her voice. "I'm your Mistress, damn it." She said in
a whisper, "Trust me." I looked at the package on the table again. Then I lifted
my gaze back to Ms Loren's collarbones. "You told me earlier tonight that you
trust me. I asked that question for a very good reason. And now I think you know
what that reason is. Do you remember that question pet? Do you remember what
your answer was?"

I nodded. "Yes Loren. I remember. I spoke the truth. I trust you." I said, and
reached for a long sip of wine, "I submit to your wisdom. How shall I proceed?"

Mistress sat back in her chair and replaced the wine glass in her hand with a
glass of water. "That's better." She said. Her smile returned and I suddenly
felt completely safe as stared into her warm, near hazel eyes. Then Mistress
paid the check while I retrieved our coats.

I was made to drive for nearly half an hour. I watched the lights of the city
fade in the rearview mirror and wondered where we were heading. At first I
thought that perhaps she merely wished to go for a drive and tease me further...
which she did in spades. I whimpered my frustration on more than one occasion.
Each time the sound caused a smile to blossom on Mistress' ruby lips that warmed
the entire car.

Then I realized that the streets we traveled became more and more specific.
Suburbia sprawled before us slower and slower. I'd nearly gathered the courage
to ask Mistress where we were going when she pointed to a home at the corner of
a block near a traffic circle. Several cars were parked in the driveway and
around the curb nearby.

"Leave me there," Mistress said, "And park the car. I'll wait for you inside."

"Yes Mistress." I answered. The car seemed to stop at the front curb all on its
own. I was still floating from the excitement brought on my Mistress' hand
beneath my short skirt while I drove. She removed her hand when I activated the
emergency brake though, and retrieved a small envelope from her purse.

"See that my purse is locked in the trunk and use the club on the steering
wheel." She quietly ordered as I opened the driver's side door.

"As you wish Mistress." I said, and then shut the door again.

I rounded the front of the car carefully. I still wore rather high heels and
didn't want to risk a sprained ankle. Then I opened the car's passenger door and
held Mistress' hand as she exited.

"Shall I escort you to the door my Lady?" I asked patiently. I hoped she would
say yes.

"No pet." Mistress replied, already prancing up the walk toward the door, "I'll
see you inside soon enough."

I'd been to this particular home on several occasions. It belonged to a very
sweet and kinky gay couple who were rather involved in the city's leather scene.
They threw a party nearly every two months and usually only the A-list of the
city's Dominants were invited. Those Dominants then brought whatever submissives
they wished.

True to form, the house was bustling with scantily dressed people, mostly in
black. Even wearing a miniskirt and a thin silk blouse with several buttons
undone I felt overdressed. A woman wearing only a pair of very high heels and a
collar greeted me at the door. She smiled and managed a curtsy despite the fact
that she wasn't wearing a skirt. My coat disappeared into her hands.

As promised, Mistress was near the door, just inside the living room and to the
right. She stood near a pillar that held the room's high ceiling aloft and spoke
to a tall, flamboyant man with close-cropped dark hair. I recognized him as one
of the hosts, Daniel. He smiled broadly when I approached.

"Ah, there she is." Daniel said after Mistress Loren paused in their
conversation. I could nearly swear that his smile grew as he stepped toward me.
"You are in for quite a treat. I'll go see if everyone is here." He touched
Mistress' arm gently and then pranced off toward the kitchen. I kept my eyes on
the floor but raised my eyebrows. I knew better than to look Mistress in the
eye. She was smiling though. I just knew it.

Mistress produced the black leather collar I often wore at her home from her
purse. She dangled it in front of my face by the shining steel loop, which hung
at my throat when it was fastened about my neck. "Though I brought this, you
won't be needing it." She said. Then she pointed toward the center of the room
where a thick rug lay.

"Kneel." Mistress commanded. I noticed a host of other people, Dominant and
submissive alike, enter the room. I knelt on the soft rug while Dominants poured
themselves into chairs or loveseats around the perimeter of the room and their
submissives sat on the floor at their feet. Mistress sat with Daniel on the
room's only sofa.

I didn't look up briefly when Charles entered the room, but I saw his boots and
blue jeans. "I think that's everyone." His familiar voice said, then stopped.
"What do you think you're doing boy? You're sitting on that couch like
you own it. Get on the floor where you belong."

Daniel yelped audibly and slithered off the seat and into the floor. He sat with
his legs curled beneath him. "That's better." Charles said. He sat next to my
Mistress and looked to her. She nodded. I briefly noted that her hands were
empty. The leather collar was gone. Then Mistress smiled.

I knew that smile. I'd seen it a thousand times. Even in my peripheral vision,
as that's the only way I could see any of them while staring at the floor in
front of me, I knew that smile.

It made me relax a bit. It made me tense a bit. It was soothing and yet made me
worry. I wondered what she planned that required an audience?

She looked at Charles. "I seem to have left my things in the foyer." She said in
an offhand sort of tone. Then she turned to me. "Be a good girl and fetch my
purse for me."

I crawled to her coat and purse, careful not to sway my hips. Mistress didn't
like the idea of my hips wagging as I crawled away from her. She said it was too
much like telling her to kiss my ass. So I was careful how my hips moved.

I picked up only her purse. If she had not specified, I would have brought her
coat as well. At first she mentioned her "things" but then she told me to fetch
her purse. She said nothing about her coat. I thought for a moment that I should
bring the coat anyway but eventually decided it would be best to obey Mistress'
orders to the letter. I returned to the living room, crawling, with her purse
straps between my teeth.

Mistress smiled widely to see me bring her purse in such a fashion. She took the
leather satchel from me with a kiss to my forehead. I preened.

Then she reached into her purse and removed the same package I'd seen before. It
was the one she laid on the table earlier. She smiled and beckoned me closer and
higher. I approached on my knees with my back straight. My hands immediately
crossed behind my back, right wrist over left.

Mistress slit the package open with her fingernail and reached inside. When she
pulled her hand from the package she was holding a silver loop. It was wide,
about the exact width of my neck. I gasped.

It was then that I knew I should have kept my mouth shut during dinner. Ms Loren
was a very intelligent woman. She purchased a collar that was both practical,
yet was shiny, pretty, and could easily pass as a simple necklace. It was
perfect. No one who didn't know exactly what it was would ever guess. Many of
those in the room gasped or murmured their appreciation.

"It's beautiful Mistress!" I whispered.

"Yes," Mistress responded, "It is, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

I was then instructed to hold my hair up while she fastened it around my neck.
It was hinged at one end, and held together by a locking screw at the other. I
wouldn't be able to remove it without the proper tools. That thought made me
near giddy.

I saw flashes of bright red from her nails as Mistress fastened the collar
around my neck. The metal was cool and smooth. The most wonderful feeling of
warmth rose inside of me. The collar meant that I was hers... that she cared for
me. I swelled with pride and became a little wet besides.

When she released it, it weighted down on my shoulders. It was easily twice as
heavy as my leather collar. No matter. I knew that I would become accustomed to
it. In the meantime, perhaps it would serve as a reminder as Mistress said
earlier.

Even as I reached up and touched it I felt tears well in my eyes. I was crying
by the time I looked up to thank Ms Loren. I opened my mouth but no words came.
In the end, I wrapped myself around her legs and sobbed.

She embraced me for a long time. I remember hearing whispers from those around
the room but didn't open my eyes and can't recall the exact words. I didn't
care. The only person I cared about, that I wanted at that very moment to please
with my every living breath, held me in her arms.

When I calmed enough to release her, Mistress kissed away my tears. I saw then
that she shed a few tears herself. "You look beautiful pet." Mistress said
proudly. Then her smile grew wicked. "But there's something missing."

She walked slowly, deliberately around me and stopped when she was directly
behind me. "Ah, that's it." She said, "Your cheeks are colored with emotion but
your bottom is still just as pale as ever. I think that should be rectified,
don't you? Charles?" I could well guess that she grinned like a shark as she
said it.

"Bottom... rectified... was that a bad joke?" Daniel asked. I heard a swat, and
then Daniel yelped again.

"Never mind him," Charles replied, "I like a pink rear end as much as anyone,
but I think it will be more fun if we all can lend a hand... so to speak." The
room's occupants all chortled and agreed. I closed my eyes and relished the
weight of cold metal around my neck. I was determined to do almost anything at
that moment to make my Mistress happy. What was being passed around a room when
compared to my Mistress' smile?

My breath caught in my throat when I heard a very familiar jingling sound. It
was something I knew quite well. The sound was made by a set of buckles. Those
buckles were attached to Mistress' favorite gag, and I knew just whom she
planned to use it upon.

Collar Part II - Toilet Training


Mistress approached and petted my hair with one hand. She smoothed down my locks
delicately. Then I was instructed to hold my hair flat.

Again I heard the gag's d-rings jingle. I would know them, even just by sound,
anywhere. They were attached to Mistress' second favorite gag. She ordered it
from a custom leather shop in Toronto. I remember the phone conversation well.
She knew exactly what she wanted and took great care in her descriptions.

It was fashioned from a long leather strap that could have been used as an arm
binder if she so wished. Instead, Mistress had it threaded through a large
rubber ball. She fixed two, thin, steel d-rings to one end instead of buckles.
She had grown weary of how the first, buckling gag she bought wouldn't tighten
to her wishes. It was always either a bit too loose or too tight. So she decided
to have her own gag made.

I was rough on gags, especially since Mistress liked to use them so often. She
seemed of the opinion that robbing a submissive of speech made them more pliant.
She liked that I had to use body language, or only my eyes if bound, to
communicate. I know for a fact that restriction excited her.

Her excitement aroused me in turn. Plus there were objectification issues to be
considered. I'm not saying that Mistress treated me like a doormat when I was
gagged, but I certainly couldn't talk back or readily disagree with much of
anything, now could I?

At any rate, as I mentioned, I was rough on gags. I tended to bite into the
rubber balls out of a reaction to pain, pleasure, anxiety, or other intense
stimuli and emotions. As such, the balls required routine replacement. Mistress
usually purchased them at Toys R Us. She found that quite amusing. So did I.

That night, as I knelt there on the floor, surrounded by people I hardly knew at
a private party, I saw the gag lowered over my head and noticed it sported a
brand new rubber ball. It was purple. It made me wonder what was in store. Was I
only being gagged for the spankings mentioned? Was there something else? Or
perhaps Mistress only wished to show off her second favorite gag. I had no idea,
but I wondered quite a bit.

Mistress threaded the straps around my head as I pressed my hair down to my
shoulders in an attempt to keep it out of the way. Then she pulled gently, but
firmly, until the ball was pushed well into my mouth. My jaw was wrenched wide.
The purple ball was a bit bigger than the ones she usually purchased. I felt a
strong suspicion that my mouth would be rather sore by the end of the night. I
briefly hoped that Mistress didn't wish me to pleasure her orally that night. I
doubted my mouth would be up to it.

But I didn't have time to dwell on what would happen later. Mistress ordered my
hands to my side. She petted me again and grabbed the gags straps, gently
guiding me forward as someone might do with a horse in tack and bridle. "Bum up,
pet." She ordered. I understood and complied.

I fell forward gently and rested on my hands and knees. My back was arched and
my bum was quite prominent. But it didn't seem to be quite enough. "Lower your
shoulders to the ground." Mistress ordered, "In fact, assume your Mantra
position."

I nodded once. My chest touched the carpet, which seemed so soft to my
fingertips but so rough to my nipples, even through the silk blouse. I turned my
head to one side. My hands found a place parallel to my shoulders, palms down.
My legs spread a bit but remained mostly in place. I supported myself on my
chest and knees with my rear end sticking prominently up into the air.

My sex ached in that position. I was excited by having Mistress' second favorite
gag in my mouth, incapable of speech, and objectified but obviously cared for as
I enjoyed. Mistress had me in a position that she loved as well. She liked to
see me with my rear up like that. She had full access to both my tight rear end
and my little pussy.

She preferred me to masturbate for her like that. She would have me make a show
of it for her. I found it thoroughly embarrassing, but astoundingly erotic as
well. It was also the position that I took most often when Mistress wore a
harness and dildo.

So to say my sex ached while in that position is perhaps a bit of an
understatement. I was slick with excitement, which became obvious when Mistress
lifted my skirt, bunching it up around my waist, and removed the thong panties I
wore. The bottom of the blue silicone butt plug was then visible.

I heard a few appreciative murmurs from those around the room. "Good girl."
Mistress cooed. I thought to smile briefly. The gag would not allow it. "I
suppose we'll have to remove this." Mistress continued, wiggling the base of the
plug. I whimpered into the gag. I'm not sure anyone heard me. "Charles, would
you be so kind as to send someone for a few paper towels?"

"Fetch boy." Charles's voice said in a soft tone. I couldn't see him, but I
guessed that he sent Daniel. Mistress continued to wiggle the butt plug's base
and added a soft fingertip upon my clit. She didn't pinch or rub, only applied a
constant pressure while she wiggled the plug. I couldn't help but writhe and
whimper. I wanted to come right that second.

Daniel returned in a short moment later and knelt beside me. He carried a paper
towel in his hand. I silently wished he had taken longer. Mistress paid him no
mind at all. With my head turned so that my left cheek pressed against the
carpet I could just make her out in my peripheral vision. "Charles?" She asked,
still concentrating on my bum.

"Is there a problem Loren?" Charles answered. Daniel shifted his weight
nervously from one knee to the other. The black dress slacks he wore picked up a
few fibers from the ornate rug beneath us.

"While I don't like to split hairs," Mistress answered in a matter-of-fact tone,
"Your submissive has only returned with one paper towel. I requested a few paper
towels. Plural." She continued to press my clit and wiggle the plug. I think
Daniel heard my soft mewling, even through the gag.

"I don't question your commitment to your guests," Mistress continued, "But I
would like your submissive to correct his mistake."

All murmurs in the room stopped. Any hushed conversation died off. There was a
pause. I felt my Mistress stiffen. I worried for a moment that she may have
offended Charles until he said, very calmly, "Daniel, I suggest you listen more
carefully to requests from our guests."

I heard Daniel swallow. I was quite glad not to be in his place. I imagined him
chained to some obscure torture device long after all the guests from the
night's party were gone. I was willing to bet he would be very sore tomorrow.

Daniel hesitated a moment, then asked, "Master, may I please fetch another few
paper towels for the Lady?"

"I suggest you do it quickly." Charles replied.

"Thank you Master." Daniel said. He left the single paper towel on the carpet in
front of my Mistress and then scrambled into the kitchen. From my position on
the floor, with my head turned to one side and my cheek lying flat on the rug, I
saw him run. I hadn't seen anyone in a suit move like that. I wondered why his
Master had him dress in such a way for a private kink party. Then I wondered
what the suit might conceal.

Mistress chuckled a bit, as did most of those in the room. I doubt Charles did
though. When he spoke he sounded very controlled. It was the same control I
heard in my Mistress' voice that signaled I was in serious trouble. When she
held emotion from her voice, spoke in cold tones, and became sarcastic, it meant
that she held back anger.

But I stopped thinking about that. Mistress pushed on my clit a few times in a
pulse. It felt so very good. I couldn't help but moan into the gag. At that
moment I didn't care about anyone else around the room. I hoped my Mistress
heard me and knew my reactions were genuine.

Daniel returned with three paper towels in one hand and a small roll in the
other. He knelt beside me once again, facing my Mistress. "Here are three more
my Lady." He reported, then held the roll up, "And more if you need them." From
the corner of my eyes I could see that he was in a very submissive posture. He
knelt with his body stretched out, his arms above his head. His torso was
parallel to the ground and hovering over the run not more than two inches.

At first I thought that he reached for my Mistress. Then I realized it was an
offering posture. He held the paper towels in his hands.

"Better." Mistress said to him. Then I think that she turned to Charles to relay
her thanks. I'm not sure, because she removed her finger from my clit and I
couldn't hear her words over my own gagged howling. The extended pressure along
my clit built to a sort of precipice of sensation. Removing that pressure
suddenly didn't allow the sensation to ebb slowly. Instead it pushed pleasure to
an abrupt peak, then it descended. I clenched the muscles of my thighs to
keep from having an orgasm without permission. I had little doubt that Mistress
expected my reaction.

When I opened my eyes I found that I'd twisted my face so that my forehead
ground into the rug. Mistress giggled a bit. I think she said something like,
"My, my, my..." but I'm not sure. I was nearly deafened by my own heavy
breathing. Since I couldn't breathe out of my mouth, all that air had to travel
through my nose. It was difficult to slow the rhythm of my diaphragm.

Not that Mistress gave me the time to do so. She immediately began to pull the
plug from my rear. She swatted my bottom lightly and wiggled the base of the
plug. "I'm going to pull this out now." She instructed, "I can't have anyone
swinging, hitting the plug instead of your bum, and damaging you. I plan to use
this orifice later."

Her words brought a wave of smiles, giggles, and sighs from those seated around
us. The sound of their approval made me blush bright scarlet. I'd forgotten they
were present. I wished Mistress had chosen a private location to collar me. I
was so very embarrassed. But she would do as she pleased within the safety
restrictions of our contract.

The plug was removed quickly. I relaxed as best I could at first so the wider
base of the plug would slide out easily. Then I clenched to assure no mess
followed. I'd given myself a small enema that morning, as I did every day to
assure I was clean in the event Mistress wished to use my rear, but I wanted to
be safe.

I felt the rough paper towel dab at my rear to clean off the lubricant that
trickled out for a moment after the plug was removed. Then Mistress patted my
bum. "Good girl." She cooed again. I preened... such as I could in such an
interesting position.

She handed a wad of paper towels to Daniel. I guessed that it contained the
plug. "May I have your slave clean this Charles?" She asked without turning her
attention away from Daniel.

"I think that's the least he can do." Charles responded. Again I felt the chill
in his voice and thought how sore Daniel would be tomorrow. "Take it into the
kitchen Daniel. Use gloves and antibacterial soap." He commanded, "Now."

"Thank you." Mistress commented. Then she returned her attention to me. "I think
I will be the first." She stated with a hint of mischief in her voice. She
grabbed the collar from behind, but didn't pull it so hard that I choked.
Instead, she guided me into a sitting position slowly. She held my chin with her
fingertips, had me look her in the eye, and said, "I give you one choice in the
matter pet. You may kneel here, on the floor." She moved her hand from my chin
and patted the rug beside me.

"You may kneel over Charles's ottoman over there." Mistress said, pointing to a
dark, cloth covered footrest in front of the sofa.

"Or you may stand, bent over the arm of that chair." Mistress said, pointing to
a chair occupied by a very sexy butch woman with a petite, femme submissive
sitting in her lap.

Mistress returned her gaze to me. Her hand again cradled my chin and lifted my
gaze to hers. "What will it be?" She asked.

I knew better than to hesitate. I answered quickly. "The ottoman, please
Mistress." I said. She smiled. I suspected that she knew what I would choose.

She released my chin and I let my gaze fall to the floor in front of me. I
caught glimpses the others in the room and blushed again. They were paying
attention as if what unfolded before them was absolutely fascinating. Perhaps it
was. But hadn't they all seen it before? I briefly wished they would become
bored and wander off to the kitchen or strike up conversations amongst
themselves.

But they didn't. Of course whispering broke out here and there. Most seemed
glued to the scene in front of them though. Many of the Dominants grinned madly.
My Mistress was in good form that night and they knew and appreciated it.

Mistress and Daniel dragged the ottoman to the center of the rug and I was
placed over it with my bum in the air. Charles appeared with a length of soft,
white rope. Interestingly enough I hadn't even noticed he was gone for a moment.
I chastised myself for missing that detail. Mistress would have my hide if she
knew. I hoped that she didn't ask about it later.

Mistress seemed satisfied once my wrists and thighs were secured to the four
small legs of the ottoman. She stood and walked around me. I think she enjoyed
the view. "Perhaps I should be the first to make her bottom rosy," She said
thoughtfully to the room's occupants, "But I've collared her tonight. I know
that she's mine. I don't have to prove it any further." She paused. I imagined a
Cheshire Cat's grin upon her face. "Besides, I'd rather watch her face."

She stopped in front of me. I could well make out her boots and legs up to the
knees. She reached down and caressed my face and stroked my hair. Then she
turned and offered to trade the Dominant who was sitting in the chair directly
in front of me his seat for the chance to spank me first. The Dom grinned and
agreed. His submissive girl, who was sitting on the floor at his feet, smiled as
well.

The look his submissive's face spoke volumes. No doubt she was glad that someone
else would bear his desire for pain that night. I'm sure she hoped he would be
spent and aroused when they arrived home after the party. Perhaps she would only
have to perform sex duties that night.

So it began. My bottom was spanked, paddled, and then flogged by every single
Dominant present and some of their submissives besides. Daniel was one of them,
though he was exceedingly gentle.

Mistress watched me through it all. She caught every emotion in my eyes. She
absolutely radiated when the last person finished and she stood to wipe away my
tears. I had plenty for her to wipe away. I was a sobbing mess and felt terribly
ashamed by it. In my thoughts I cursed the gag. My nose ran a bit from crying. I
could scarce breathe. I'd also drooled onto Daniel and Charles's carpet.

My bottom felt as though it were on fire. I knew I would be bruised and welted.
Sitting in my office the next day would be nearly impossible. My boss would
wonder why I stood and paced so much. But that didn't matter, especially not at
that moment.

Mistress' hands were magic. They were a balm unto themselves. They felt
wonderful, soft, and warm. Her soothing words, which I was too distressed to
understand at the time, felt just as good to my ears as comforting, tangled
whispers. She untied me slowly. Occasionally her sharp fingernails raked my bum
ever so slightly. Each fingernail felt like it left a line of fire across my
already sore flesh. I cried into the gag a bit more.

Then it seemed that I was suddenly transported to the edge of the carpet. I
didn't remember sitting up, yet I knelt upright, was near a chair, and
comfortably cradled in Mistress' arms. I blinked tears away as she told me what
a good girl I'd been and how proud she was of me. I remained there for what
seemed like many minutes.

Mistress whispered a good many things into my ears. She asked of my emotional
well being. I subtly informed her when I was well and she nodded, and then
stood. Her voice returned to an authoritative tone. It was almost as if someone
threw a switch.

"Kneel." Mistress commanded, again pointing to the carpet. The room became quiet
as voices died down to listen. Mistress didn't raise her voice, so others had to
quiet themselves to hear. I wondered briefly at her. Did she do it with that
purpose, to quiet the room? Or did she care, so long as I could hear her?

It mattered to me only as an item of curiosity. I did as I was told and crawled
to the center of the room. I was careful not to wag my rear as I crawled away.

The ottoman was still in the center of the rug. I folded my legs beneath me as I
sat next to it, settling my sore, sore rump upon my heels. It felt good to be
still, yet the heat from the skin of my lower legs and feet made my rear and the
backs of my thighs seem like they glowed white-hot. I wasn't sure how I would
manage to sit still for very long.

Charles turned to my Mistress again. "Let's get the real fun started." He said.
My Mistress nodded again I cringed. The real fun? What he could possibly mean.
Surely Mistress wouldn't allow my poor bottom to be paddled and spanked further!
I had to be able to sit down at work tomorrow. But, as I said, I only had a
brief moment to wonder.

"sara!" Charles's voice boomed, filling the room, "I understand you've a toilet
fantasy. Is that right?"

I closed my eyes and felt my cheeks grow immeasurably hot. I had little doubt
they matched the color of my rear. In fact, I knew that my entire body must have
flushed. My teeth bit the ball-gag hard as I nodded my head up and down in an
affirmative reply.

"Good." Charles replied, "I was worried you'd deny it. Since your face is so
red, I'd say that was a tough thing to admit."

Mistress smiled in front of me. She seemed proud. "I saw the posts you made to
an internet forum, stating that you were curious about toilet training." She
said calmly, "I became curious myself. You've maintained that any play involving
human waste is, at minimum, a soft limit." She paused. I felt her scrutiny. "Has
that changed?" I shook my head from left to right to indicate that it had not.

"Then I think you'd best explain yourself." She said. Mistress then sat on the
ottoman next to me and removed the gag gingerly. I supposed that she remembered
how her finger leaving my clit made me react and knew that, while not a reaction
of pleasure, the releasing of the gag had a similar effect. It was more like the
plug leaving my bum. I would be left empty. She released the straps slowly,
careful not to catch my hair in the rings, and eased the ball from my jaw.

I clenched the muscles and closed my teeth together. They felt odd, after having
been separated for nearly forty-five minutes. They didn't fit correctly at
first. When I tried to thank her I found that I couldn't talk very well. My jaw
was terribly sore. I kissed Mistress' boots in thanks instead.

She seemed to think that was appropriate. She called me a good girl again. She
whispered in my ear that I was to stay put, there, in the middle of the room for
now. As she walked back to the chair in front of me I heard Charles's voice
behind me again.

"Your Mistress came here a few weeks ago." He said, "She asked me about toilet
training. I thought she'd lost her mind at first. Everyone knows I'm not much of
a fan of that stuff. No offense." He held up his hands in a motion of mock
surrender, "Then I mentioned it to Daniel here." I imagined him petting his
slave boy at that moment, though I can't say I know if he did or not. My back
was to him then. I thought that perhaps I should turn but then I remembered
Mistress in front of me. I decided to face her unless she directed me to do
otherwise.

"He said a round table discussion could be good." Charles continued, "And your
Mistress loved the idea. That's what we're doing tonight. Everyone here knows
something about toilet training and want to talk to you and your Mistress about
it."

Then Charles introduced everyone around the room. For that, I decided that I'd
best turn to face the guests as they were mentioned. I bowed to each of them,
Dominant, submissive, or otherwise. Charles paused long enough to allow me a few
words to thank them for coming and for the use of his home, which seemed to make
him smile.

"Do you see that Daniel?" Charles asked of his slave, "That's a well behaved
submissive. I'll bet she would have brought more than one paper towel." Charles
swatted the back of Daniel's head playfully but the look in his eyes was
anything but playful.

I wished that he wouldn't use me as an example. I was hardly the best behaved
submissive in the room. I'd made at least a dozen mistakes that week alone. I
knew I was no model to be used. But Charles continued.

"Fist," My Mistress said, "I think you should tell us what you consider toilet
training, what appeals to you about it, and how that affects your personal
safety limits."

I was suddenly very aware of all eyes on me. I blushed again and heard someone's
submissive giggle under her breath. Other than that, I think I could have heard
a pin drop.

I swallowed, thanked Mistress for allowing me to address the group, and replied
that I considered toilet training or toilet use of a submissive to be the
consumption of the Dominant's waste products. Most of the room's occupants
nodded but one Dominant woman with black hair spoke up.

"That doesn't always have to be the case." She said. She petted her submissive
at her feet. He was dressed in nothing but a leather harness across his chest.
"My alex doesn't swallow." A ripple of quaint laughter spread throughout the
room. The Domme smiled. "Seriously, he doesn't want to consume my piss but he
lives to be used as a urinal. So he spits when he's done. It seems to work well
for us."

I nodded and several others did as well. My Mistress cocked her head to one
side. The Dominant man sitting to her left did as well. I was glad that at least
I wasn't the only one in the room who hadn't considered that particular
possibility until it was mentioned.

"But do go on." The raven haired Domme insisted. I did.

"What appeals to me about it?" I said, and then paused. I sighed and blushed
again. My Mistress smiled. "I can't say it's the waste itself. In fact, I'm
completely appalled at the idea of scat. I don't like that thought at all. Even
watching it makes me sick. But when I think of my Mistress occasionally pressing
her delicious sex to my mouth, of her scent filling my nostrils, of her taste on
my lips... then of her spilling into me... it makes me wet."

I swallowed. "I honestly think it's the intimacy of the idea that has me
fascinated. And... well... there's the humiliation aspect of it as well."

A tall, lanky Dominant man with close-cropped silver-blonde hair smacked his
thigh. "Ha!" He said, "I knew it!" He paused just long enough to slap his
submissive on the back. "That's what my boy riley here loves about it. He gets
off on the humiliation."

Heads bobbed knowingly. Mine did also, but more from suspicion. I knew myself
fairly well, but this was an area I'd not explored. My Mistress was very brave
to have brought me there. I gave myself a little credit too, for not running
screaming away.

A submissive femme with a shaved head whispered something to her butch Daddy.
Then, after receiving a nod, the submissive asked, "So what are your limits?
What do your limits allow in the way of exploration when it comes to being a
toilet for your Mistress?" Her Daddy smiled. It was a good question and well
asked. I would have been proud too.

I paused. I wasn't sure how to explain it. Then I looked up at my Mistress. She
still held the ball gag in her lap. "It's something that I wish to explore. I
want to know more. Perhaps I'm willing to try it. Perhaps I'm not. I'd like to
talk about it though. It's a soft limit because I know so little about it and am
afraid. It's a soft limit because I won't do it without prior negotiation
first."

Mistress nodded. She had suspected as much. I smiled to see her seem so at ease.
She was happy. Better than that, she was proud of me. I briefly thought that
there was no better feeling in the world.

"It's also something that I will only even consider doing with certain
individuals." I continued, "As I mentioned, I'm attracted to the intimacy that I
think the act could lend to a relationship. Right now I would only even so much
as think of doing toilet training with my Mistress. I wouldn't do it for someone
else."

I looked directly at my Mistress' collarbones. "With respect Mistress," I added,
"I would use a safe word even if you ordered me to perform the act with someone
else." Again Mistress nodded and smiled. Had she expected that as well?

The talks continued for nearly an hour and a half. I heard the recounting of
several first attempts. Some Dominants openly bragged but mostly the talk was
very informative and casual. I was intrigued by many of the new possibilities
given. I was also very frightened that Mistress might approach me with the
suggestion that I be her urinal in the next week. I was embarrassed even at the
mere thought of discussing it with her... much less the idea of actually
performing for her.

After the discussion we were all invited into Charles's basement. Properly named
his dungeon, there were many beautifully crafter pieces of equipment. A Saint
Andrews cross made of an exotic looking dark wood stood proudly in one corner.
Two bondage tables rested against opposite walls of the room. And there were
many other smaller devices as well. I remembered Daniel bragging about the fact
that serving a Master who is a carpenter has many perks.

I was finally allowed to fade a bit into obscurity. My bottom was still sore and
felt swollen so large that I could have had two zeppelins as seat cushions. Not
that I sat down. I knelt on the floor no matter which corner I occupied.

I was thankful that Charles had thought to make up for the paper towel
embarrassment earlier by having Daniel wait on my Mistress nearly hand and foot.
It meant I didn't have to do it and could thereby avoid the limelight. Mistress
seemed to be the center of attention now. Sure, several of the more intimate
groups had begun to use the equipment, but many of the Dominants were chatting
with my Mistress.

She seemed to tire of all the attention quickly though. It wasn't long before
she peered around the large basement, looking for me. When she saw me her eyes
lit up. She excused herself from the circle around her. She briefly spoke to
Charles on her way across the room, and he smiled when they spoke.

I didn't have time to ask how well the conversations went or what Charles
enjoyed so much. Mistress looped a finger through the collar around my neck and
dragged me upstairs. My cheeks flushed pink when she closed the door of the
master bathroom behind us.

"Kneel, slut." She commanded. I did. "Good," She said, "Now crawl to me." I then
did as she wished, swaying my hips as I crawled.

When I reached her boots I stopped. I kissed each one. "I apologize for my words
earlier this evening during dinner. I trust you." I said.

"We'll see." Mistress said, just before lifting her skirt. "Take these off." She
said, lightly snapping the waistline of her black, lace panties.

I blinked, a little shocked, but complied. My fingers looped through the
waistband and pulled her panties down her legs, and over her boots to her
ankles. I held them as still as I could while she lifted first her right foot,
then her left from the tiny garment.

I then folded the undergarment and turned to crawl toward the counter. But
Mistress stopped me. She touched my shoulder and said, "No, the floor beside you
is fine." I wasn't surprised at all that she anticipated exactly what I was
about to do. I was accustomed to folding Mistress' clothes carefully and in
places where her dog, Chiot, wouldn't disturb them. Instead, I lay her panties
next to me on the floor as per her wishes.

"I seem to have become a bit wet." Mistress then said in a mock innocent tone,
"I think that perhaps you should dry me."

Drying her was a phrase she used when she left the bathtub or shower. I didn't
refer to spiriting water from her skin with a warm towel, though I was happily
expected to do that as well. What it meant was that I was to lick moisture from
her sex... often creating more moisture in the process. But it was about
pleasure more than anything. And I dearly loved it when Mistress allowed me to
dry her. So when she said it, standing in front of me, I knew exactly what she
wanted.

"Yes Mistress!" I replied immediately. I crawled forward and then sat up on my
knees so that my face was level with her thighs. She moved forward a bit and
cradled my head in her palms. I felt her fingers through my hair as I closed my
eyes.

My tongue extended and found her clit with ease. I lapped it slowly, softly at
first like a cat would lick milk from a saucer. She tasted wonderful, like honey
and musk mixed. Though when she said she was only a bit wet she wasn't entirely
honest. My tongue found her to be quite moist.

Mistress sighed. As my tongue probed deeper I reached up with my hands and
parted her lips to lick her entire sex. I felt Mistress' fingers gather in my
hair and pressed harder with my tongue upon her sensitive clit.

My mouth was still sore from being held open by the gag earlier. However, though
earlier that evening I feared being too sore to please Mistress orally, I found
that my desire to lick her to orgasm quite overpowered my response to my jaw's
dull ache. I resolved not to stop until she found release or ordered me away. My
mouth was already sore. What was a little more for the woman I all but
worshipped?

Occasionally Mistress allowed me to penetrate her with my fingers as well, and I
decided to try it. I knew there was only a few other ways to bring her to
intense orgasms quickly and hoped she would allow it that time. I stroked the
length of her sex with my index and middle finger and was rewarded when Mistress
spread her legs a bit more in front of me. I paused to suck her clit into my
mouth, and then slid my fingers gently into her.

Again, I felt her fingers tangle in my hair. I knew I was very lucky indeed to
have been allowed to please Mistress in such a way. My own sex ached as I
pressed Mistress' g-spot with my fingertips and lapped at her clit.

"Bite me." Mistress commanded between increasingly ragged breaths, "But not hard
you little slut. You know how I like it."

I subtly nodded my agreement. I knew just what she liked. She taught me. I
prided myself on that fact. So I closed my teeth on her clit softly. I applied
only the slightest bit of pressure and then released. Then I repeated the
action. I felt her thighs tighten when I nibbled her clit. She moaned each time.
It was heaven.

She came in mere moments. I thought that she would all but tear my hair out in
an attempt to keep silent so the others in the party wouldn't hear us. Still,
she moaned a good bit.

When I stopped I could tell that she was dizzy and her knees were weak. I guided
her to sit on the edge of Charles's jacuzzi as soon as she released her death
grip upon my hair. It was a bit of a trek across the large bathroom but I made
certain she didn't falter. Once she was seated, I knelt at her feet. She stroked
my hair and called me her good little girl so many times that I lost count.

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