Sentiments of a Submissive

 

By:  Miss Georgia Peach

 

As told to:  JEP

 

 

Introduction:  Miss Peach is the most unique submissive I have ever encountered.  In addition to being incredibly beautiful, she has the mind of a true intellect.  She has a unique ability to put words together to create a vivid word picture that is truly a work of eroticism.  The following are her words to express her sentiments and a few of her experiences.                 JEP

 

 

I do love the concept of being pierced and having the nipple rings attached by a chain, then being led around by the chain.  There are countless variations on that theme.  Have you ever seen nipple shields or nipple stretchers?  I find both quite erotic.  I love having my nipples clamped and played with so anything related to "nipple torture" gets high marks (and a wet pussy) from me.  On two occasions I've come close to being taken to a piercer by a Dom and being required to have my nipples pierced, but things never went that far.  I've often wondered if I become involved in a long-term (several years) serious D/S relationship if I would find the wherewithal to do this at my Master's request/demand/command-whatever.  This is related to the point where I would WANT to do it because it is something my Master wants and in giving him pleasure I would also be receiving pleasure.  Make sense?

 

At the time when I first started to learn about BDSM, my husband would use a variety of nipple clamps to punish my nipples.  Sometimes he would attach various weights to the clamps, such as small lead fishing weights or increasing sizes of weights.  In addition to wearing these while standing with my legs spread and hands clasped behind my neck for some kind of punishment, I would at times have to hold my tits out with the nipple clamps and weights dangling.  Another common practice was to encircle each tit with tight rope.  The ropes would also be wound over my neck and shoulders to form a sort of harness, thus making the tits stand out obscenely.  If the rope is tied tightly it's difficult to get nipple clamps on because the tit becomes somewhat like a balloon at the end and the nipples are not as prominent as usual. 

 

Anyway, after various forms of nipple torture I could feel the sensitivity for several days and it kept sex in the forefront of my mind.  As time went on, I also experienced follow-up to nipple torture when I was required to wear sandpaper or the scratchy side of Velcro inside my bra so that it would rub up against my nipples as long as I was dressed.  This kept me in a submissive (and aroused) state of mind. It turned me on so much that when in private I would arch my back and push my breasts as hard as I could into my bra, or play with my nipples through the bra in such a way that they got a good scratching.  One time I begged to have sandpaper used on my nipples while I was restrained.  It turned out to be a bit too harsh (maybe the wrong grade of sandpaper or the partner's heavy hand), but it drew a little bit of blood and was uncomfortable enough for several days afterwards that it was not erotic, just painful.  

  

One of my favorite ways to meet a Master who comes to visit is to greet him with my tits tied up with rope and harnessed so they stand out obscenely, either wearing a short, lightweight robe open in the front, a tight lightweight t-shirt or stretchy white blouse that accentuates the huge tits.  Or of course there is always the naked-with-bound-tits approach.  On some occasions I would pull a strip of rawhide, a chain, rope or something similar between my legs nice and tight so that it rubbed against my clit and was well into the crack in my ass.  Then I would put a belt, rope, or whatever around my waist and attach the "cunt strap" to the belt so it would stay tight.  If I did this some time before my Master arrived at the house, I would be in an extreme heightened state or horniness by the time he arrived.

 

I have found lactation stories to be quite the turn-on. The idea of being milked and having big (actually bigger as they're already oversized), swollen tits that become painful until milked gets me going.  The story I read in bed today was very heavy on the lactation – that was the main theme.  The woman signs a contract to become the sub and her Dom turns her into a cow.  Brands her ass and milks her.  Uses milking machines as well as manual stimulation.  She stays on all fours most of the time once she becomes his property so the author describes her big tits hanging down and huge, brown elongated teats (nipples) as her development progresses.  He brings in a male stud to impregnate her with the plan to sell the baby after it's born.  But a significant motivator in the pregnancy is to increase her milk production.  After she gives birth and the baby is gone she needs to be milked and the Master accomplishes that in several ways, including bringing in piglets to suckle her and having other men breast feed (eventually he sends her to a farmer during his work week and the farmer "rents' her to guys for milking.) 

 

As you have guessed by now, I've had quite a wide variety of experiences.  I'll relate one of my favorites.  The Dom was in very good physical condition and quite well-endowed.  When we first began to see each other, he would send me instructions in advance as to how I was to prepare myself for his visits.  There was one form of preparation I came to take great pleasure in, although it took some time before I began to like it.  I would be directed not to bathe for a day or two before he would come to visit.  In addition, I was to use no deodorant or scented products of any kind.  I was not permitted to wipe after I pissed.  I had to wear the same panties a couple of days in a row.

 

When urinating at home, I had to step into the tub, naked from the waste down, and cup my hands between my legs so they became wet with piss.  (The way in which this was described to me was to think of myself as a little girl at a party where my parents were present.  I have to go to the bathroom and am standing in the hallway, trying to get their attention.  I hold it and hold it and finally can't hold it any longer and put my hands under my dress as I try to catch the pee, which gets all over my hands and runs down my legs.)  I would then have to wipe my pissy hands under my breasts and underarms. I would allow any piss that ran down my legs to drip dry. (I could rinse my feet, however.)  Usually this would occur beginning on Friday after work and through Saturday until the Dom came to visit on Sunday.  At first I had a lot of trouble complying with this, but over time came to enjoy it.  I became diligent about wiping piss on myself and expanded beyond just my underarms and the underside of my breasts.  I would drink excessive amounts of water while at home in order to piss frequently and in substantial quantities.  Usually the Dom would have me drink a lot of water before he came to visit so I would have to piss a lot while he was here.  He would follow me into the bathroom and watch me as I stepped into the tub and pissed, standing with my back facing him and arms stretched out on the shower wall.  Or sometimes I would face him, sometimes with my hands between my legs, sometimes with my legs together, sometimes in the toilet.  Never any wiping; only rinsing feet when in the tub.  I would speed up the drying process by using a hair dryer on my pussy and anywhere else that had gotten wet.

 

Sometimes he would have me stand in the shower facing him, holding my pussy open, and he would piss onto my cunt.  Or we would shower together and he would piss on me.  Being pissed on, especially when it is directly on the pussy (lips open or not), I find to be one of the ultimate acts of submission. 

 

As I started to say above, I began to enjoy feeling like a dirty bitch after a while.  In fact, one time I started preparing myself for his visit a day earlier than required.  Somehow I was able to keep to myself at work so no one would detect this.  I don't recall-maybe it was just a slow day and I stayed in my office.  Then the day before his arrival, a Saturday, I had a lot of errands to do.  In order to increase my "natural perfume," I wore extra layers of clothing so I was sweating.  I stayed dressed this way all day and reached the point where I smelled like an animal while driving around in my car, standing in line at the bank, etc. 

 

I have no idea what caused this transformation in me other than the desire to please him.  I generally shower and wash my hair daily.  I reached the point where I really wanted to smell like a bitch in heat for him by the time he arrived. 

 

This particular man also happened to have an absolutely beautiful cock.  Often he would come in and sit down in a dining room chair, open his zipper and pull it out, and I would get down on my knees immediately and start sucking.  Sometimes he would ease into my worship of his cock by smoking a cigarette and we would talk a while.  On occasion we would get stoned first.  He liked me to beg for it.  Sometimes I would beg, or he would tell me, to go into the kitchen and bend over onto the counter and he would fuck me hard from behind. 

 

All in all this was an extremely sexual man and I wanted him so much I was willing to do what he told me to do.  I would readily admit to being a slut, bitch in heat, dirty whore, etc. without even being coached.  We eventually drifted apart as our lives went separate ways, but I can still get wet just thinking about him.

 

 

Miss Peach’s Thoughts on Shaving

 

It surprises me how few men have actually shaved a woman's pubic hair.  Those who are introduced to the activity for the first time often lose the point.  A woman spread and bound so that she cannot interfere with the shaving will obtain the most pleasure from a slow, deliberate removal of her hair.  First, some investigation of the current status with an examination of the area which involves some touching, pulling of the hair to see how long it is, opening the labia to determine where the hair ends, and of course some wandering fingers to play with the pussy and lightly touch the clit as the inspection proceeds.

As the woman becomes wet, the scissors should come out.  Medium scissors, perfectly sharpened.  The man pulls the hair so it is taut, and then trims the longish hairs close to the skin.  To ensure the process is appropriately prolonged, the snips should take off small amounts of hair each time.  Pulling a large hank of pubic hair and cutting it close to the skin with one snip of the scissors just is not erotic.

Upon completion of the snipping, a shaving brush and shaving cream-or if you're not a purist, an aerosol can of shaving cream-comes out.  A bowl of nice warm water and a washcloth should be handy, along with a number of disposable razors.  Of course the ideal would be to use a straight razor, but very few people know how to use them.  They give the closest shave (anecdotal information.)  Another alternative, perhaps a step up from disposable plastic razors, would be a razor that takes disposable blades.  Electric razors have been used, but they rarely seem to give a close shave and they fail to produce the same erotic effect as a manual razor.

It is a good idea to place a warm washcloth over the area after the pubic hairs have been shorn with scissors but before the shaving with a razor.  Then, application of the shaving cream.  While it is fine to cover the entire area to be shaved with shaving cream, it is best to spread the cream around with a finger and make sure that the finger explores the pussy to check on its moisture.  How excited is she and if she isn't terribly wet, then have you considered that you may be doing something wrong?  As you shave, routinely wipe the cream away with the warm washcloth to check on your progress and see how close the shave is, and then apply more cream.  The longer this process takes and the more gratuitous touching, the more aroused the woman will become.  If the shave is done correctly, she will be begging to cum, pushing herself up toward your fingers, writhing on her back while her now-bald pussy is spread and not only ready but totally open and available to be fucked.

Many sources that deal with dominance and submission suggest that shaving hair from the asshole area is part of this process.  Because my hair is thin, there is no hair there so no shaving is necessary in that location.

It can be difficult to maintain a smooth, bare pussy.  Especially if the sub is expected to do this herself.  I have found the best way is to use a cream depilatory; there are a couple of brands formulated to remove beard hair on African-American men.  Why they would want to use a nasty-smelling cream to remove their facial hair is beyond me, but I've never had to shave my face on a daily basis nor am I Black, so there may be something I'm missing.

Pornographic photos (or, I suppose, photos regardless of whether or not you would consider them to be pornographic) of naked women often show them without pubic hair.  I was about to say that I don't know if men find this a sign of submission, but then realized that not every male is the same.  Some men may find a hairless pussy appealing; others may not.  I find it to be a physical reminder of one's submissive nature.  Some Doms also think it helps to reinforce the sub's focus on sex, as the goal of some Doms is to turn their subs into total sexual beings who can think of virtually nothing but sex and focus on their cunts all of the time. 

 

Depending on the response, more of Miss Peach’s thoughts and experiences may be forthcoming.              JEP

Sentiments of a Submissive (Part 2)

 

By:  Miss Georgia Peach

 

As told to:  JEP

 

Miss Peach was pleased with the readers’ response to her introductory writing.  She has now made available one of her earlier experiences in her somewhat uncommon world of eroticism.  As always, she insists on anonymity with her writings.

 

I pulled up to the driveway, put it in first, set the emergency brake, and opened the door.  Getting out was always a challenge.  The three-inch heels were one thing; keeping the coat closed when it had no buttons was another.  I managed. I had nothing else with me.  No purse, no bag of toys.  Just a pair of underpants stuck in my coat pocket.  Nice, plain cotton ones as he had told me to bring, in white and just a little on the tight side.  This was something new.  Fun; I liked new things.  Otherwise, I knew he had everything we would need for the session.

 

I knocked on the front door and opened it, not waiting for an answer.  No need to; he was expecting me.  I removed my shoes on the landing and walked down the stairs.  Turned the corner and there he was, sitting on his favorite chair watching porn on the TV screen.  He smiled as I entered.  The lights were low and there was a slight chill in the air. 

 

"I'd much rather leave the coat on," I thought to myself, knowing what was to come next.  The coat was warm, wrapped tightly around me, and held closed only with a belt of the same fabric as the coat, tied in a square knot.

 

"Take off the coat and make yourself at home," he said.

 

He pointed first to a hook on the wall, which, when it was not in use for other purposes, was the place for me to hang my coat.  He was nothing if not methodical; a creature of habit.  As I removed the coat his eyes wandered from the TV screen briefly. Yes, I had worn a new outfit – something lacy with openings at a few crucial places.  No covering for the tits and a slit in front and back.  He smiled again, only this time it was lascivious.

 

I walked to the bed and began to sit on the edge.

 

"No," he caught me quickly before I was able to sit down. "Salutation posture – facing toward the wall." 

 

Having been trained well, I knew exactly what this meant.  First I removed my single piece of clothing.  Then I slowly moved into the presentation position.  Legs and elbows on the bed, legs spread widely, lower spine dropped, ass turned upward, private parts exposed and facing him. My head was facing the wall.

 

Now he diverted his full attention away from the TV screen.  He opened the drawer of a small nightstand next to him and pulled out a scorecard of sorts.  At the top of the card in large block letters it said:

 

 POSTURE TRAINING

Salutation Presentation

 

He entered the date in the left-hand column and began placing scores on a scale from 1-10 in the next four columns.   The first column read "Tilt."  Yes, excellent.  The quality of the angle of the ass was near perfect.  The buttocks turned upward, saying to him: "here it is and it's all yours."  Score:  8

 

Next column was "Exposure." Yes, the buttocks are well-placed but the vulva is not exposed well, so there is no clear view of the pussy as there should be.  Hair removed from between the cheeks but not the vulva.  Unacceptable.  He knew I was waiting, hoping that he would shave me but he had refused for weeks and told me I must do it myself.  To date, I had not complied and would eventually pay dearly for it.  He was still devising an appropriate punishment.  I, on the other hand, knew that I was out of compliance but had left the pubic hair on because of my new jewel. A little embarrassed to think that it might be seen in Salutation Position, I wanted to make sure my new clit piercing was hidden from view.  It was a week and a day since I had it done and the slight pain and later ache had worn off.  I was taking good care of hygiene according to instructions and by the end of the week the small ball on the end of the stud was making me horny as hell.

 

Meanwhile, he debated about the score. The rear end spoke to him, "I've got a velvet asshole, baby, and I would consider it an honor if you would play with it." But the poor performance at the other entry had to be taken into account.  Score:  2

 

"Expression" came next.  Yes, this is the one that had taken so much work.  I rarely smiled during our sessions.  He had been working with me to change that; rewarding me with little pleasures when the expression was within specifications.  He wanted me, the submissive, to reveal my delight and joy in placing myself under his control and offering my mind and body for his use and pleasure.  He wanted me smiling and happy during our sessions.  He walked around to the other side, where I was facing the wall.  I looked up at him with a seductive, contented expression.  Much better than when we had begun these sessions; still not perfect, but much improved.  Score:  6

 

The final column was labeled "Drop."  I almost always scored high on this one.  Because I loved having my tits as the center of attention, I made certain that I performed this part of the presentation flawlessly.  He stood in front of me and leaned over slightly to get a better view of my boobs in the dim light.  Yup: pointed straight down so they could be plainly seen, fondled, or clamped.  How could they help but be pointed down?  What with their size and gravity, this was a given.  My body was perfectly still. As a bonus, my titties were nice and prominent, which was because of the slight nip in the room.  He had planned it that way.  Yes, I had achieved the highest degree of Drop.  Score:  10

 

He walked away, put the score card back in its place, and assembled some toys out of the bottom drawer.  He sat back down in his chair and turned his attention back to the porn. 

 

"Let her wait for it" he thought. 

 

He enjoyed the mental games; liked to make the point that he was in control.

 

I began to whimper and swing my tits back and forth.  Like a puppy begging for its bone, this horny slut was begging to be satisfied.  He waited five more minutes, after sharply telling me to remain still and quiet down.  By then his erection told him that it was time.

 

He laid the toys out at the foot of the bed.  He contemplated for a moment and decided to start first with the real thing.  He removed his pants and shoes. 

 

He only had to say it once: "Spread those cheeks for me and show me your asshole." 

 

I dropped my front to the bed as I reached around and spread the cheeks.  Since I had hoped for this and knew he never took the time for lubrication, I had applied a small amount of Vaseline to the hole before leaving home.  As I opened the cheeks, it gleamed and beckoned him inside.  He pushed up against me a bit; I shoved my ass out even farther, silently begging for it.  He started to push inside. 

 

I whimpered.  "You're too big; it hurts." 

 

He tried again and again, but I was tight and there wasn't enough lubrication.

 

"OK," he said, “if I'm too big, let's stretch you a bit and then maybe I'll be able to get in that little back door.” 

 

I whimpered again, pushed out my ass, and wiggled it.  He knew what I wanted and knew he would be rewarded if he got it.  He came around front and had me get up on my hands again.  He tied the hanging tits with rope, so that they hung down like nice, tight cones.  He placed clamps on my nipples.  I was smiling and wiggling my ass.

 

He walked behind and picked up the inflatable plug.  Used a few drops of K-Y jelly and slid it right into the hole.  He began pumping. 

 

"Big enough?" he asked. 

 

I shook my head no. He let the air out and started again, this time allowing more air in. 

 

"Big enough now?" he asked. 

 

Again I shook my head no.  He let the air out for a third time and pumped it up even more. I began to squirm and hump, swinging my tits, lifting my head. 

 

"Big enough now?" he asked.

 

"Yes," I said.  "Oooooh it feels so good." 

 

He added a couple more quick pumps and I asked that it be removed. 

 

"Too big now?" he asked. 

 

I nodded.  "Can you take me now?" he asked.  "Do you think you've been stretched enough?" 

 

I nodded again.  He let the air out and removed the plug.  Stood there for a moment and slapped each of my cheeks five times. I knew they were beginning to get nice and pink.  Five more slaps to each side.  Now nice and red.  With that, he pushed his cock into the hole slowly.  It was going in easily.  I pushed back toward him and moaned.  He pushed some more and he was in.  I was shoving my ass to him.  He pumped in and out, in and out.  I moaned. 

 

"It feels so nice" I said.  This went on as long as he could take it, and then he came.  Ahhhh.  He'd been waiting for this.

 

He went to wash himself and told me to remain as I was.  He was back momentarily, and on the way reached into my coat pocket and pulled the panties out.  He had me slide down on the edge of the bed so he could put the plain white panties on me.  I was still wet but I knew he didn't care. 

 

I knew what he was thinking.  "Let her smell like sex, it's only appropriate for such a horny slut."  Once the panties were on, he commanded me back into position.

 

"What's going on here?" I wondered to myself. 

 

He came around to my front and removed the ropes from my tits. He removed the clamps.  He played with the nipples for a while and they became erect again very quickly.  He fondled my huge titties and sucked hard on my nipples. Then he returned to my back side.

 

Having gotten dressed after cleaning up, he was wearing slacks with the pen knife he always carried in the back pocket.  He pulled the knife out and laid it next to me on the bed.  Then he began prodding me through the panties, looking for the exact location of my hole.  He found it and held the panties in that spot with two fingers, pulling the cloth away from my buttocks. He picked up the knife and made a small hole in the very spot. 

 

He put the knife away and picked up something from the pile of toys at the foot of the bed.  The asshole was still well-lubricated, so he was able to insert one of my favorite toys right through the hole in the panties and into my asshole.  Now I was a pantied slut with a nice black tail hanging down from my ass.  I loved the tail and expected him to blindfold me and make me prance around the room.  The surprise was yet to come.

 

"I'm getting hungry," he said.  "It's been a long time since I've taken you out to a good restaurant. You're already partly dressed.  Go home and put on something nice – a dress that shows off your curves.  Wear that push-up bra that doesn't cover your nipples and leave on what you're wearing down below.  No stockings.  I'll be by to pick you up in half an hour.”

 

I stood up to put on my one-piece "teddy" but he told me to leave it behind.  That meant I had to drive home wearing only the panties, tail, stiletto-heeled shoes, and coat.  I took the coat off the hook, wrapped it around myself tightly, and tied the belt.  He walked over and pulled the coat open toward the top, so my cleavage was showing.  I planned to pull over once I'd turned the corner to put a safety pin at the top of the coat to hold it closed; no desire to have the SUV and truck drivers gazing down at my tits.  I walked upstairs to the landing and leaned over to put my shoes on while he watched my ass and tail from below. 

 

As I opened the door to leave, he reminded me, "Remember, a half hour sharp; be waiting at the window and come out as soon as I pull into the driveway."

 

I drove home, stopping only to safety-pin my coat closed before I left his development.  Fifteen minutes to get home.  Not much time to get ready.   I pulled my car into the garage, jumped out and discarded the shoes as I headed toward the bedroom.  I decided not to shower in the interest of time.

 

First I washed my face and applied makeup.  Heavy on the eyes with false eyelashes.  Dark, deep red lipstick.  I went to the lingerie drawer and found the bra he had specified.  Made sure it wouldn't slide down and was hooked securely, pushed my tits up so they fit into the brassiere perfectly, with my nipples just showing over the top. I ran the brush with my red blush powder over the nipples.  Then I pinched them so they were slightly erect. 

 

I pulled some new accessories out of my drawer.  Tiny "castration bands" that I put around the nipples to keep them erect.  This was the only thing I had found that worked for any length of time.  Slowly but surely my other treatments had begun to show progress.  On his orders, I used vacuum tubes on the nipples each night for fifteen minutes before I went to bed. They had been extended a tiny bit, but only enough for me to see the difference.  I knew that soon he would increase the vacuum seal and the time that the tubes were to be worn.  He had told me so when this treatment started.

 

I hooked some long dangly earrings through my ear lobes.  Last, I slid into a long-sleeved, fairly tight black dress that had a square neckline.  Not low enough to let the nipples show above the neckline, but because the fabric was transparent just below the neckline and fit close to my skin, my nipples could be seen through the dress.  I ran upstairs to watch for him and within less than a minute he pulled into the driveway.  I waved, grabbed my coat and wrapped it around myself, slid into a different set of high-heeled shoes on my way out the front door, and ran to the passenger side of the car.

 

He greeted me, not with a kiss but a squeeze of the driver's side breast.  Then he reached up between my legs and felt the white panties with the tail resting nicely between the legs. 

 

"Good," he said, "you left it in."

 

We drove to an expensive restaurant about ten miles out of town.  Since it was a weekend night and the place was popular, we had trouble getting a table without reservations.  We sat on tall chairs in the bar – after he had checked my coat – and he insisted that I not cross my legs while I was seated. 

 

"Odd," I thought.  "If he'd wanted me to expose myself to the world why would he have demanded these old lady panties?" 

 

As he was admiring my prominent titties and watching others around the room do the same, the thought must have occurred to him as well.  He knew quite well that the tail was a good fit and could not be ejected without some effort. 

 

So he gave me a new order:  "Go into the ladies room and remove the panties. Leave the tail in.  Throw the panties in the trash and come back to the bar." 

 

I did as I was told.

 

By the time I got back to her seat, the Maitre D had called us to their table.  It was in a dark back room that held only a few booths.  There was a candle burning on the table, a large basket of salty popcorn and one menu.  He told me to sit and slide into the booth, then joined me on the same side.

 

He ordered another drink and water for me.  Then the waiter took the dinner orders – again he ordered for me.  He told the waiter to ask the kitchen to take their time preparing the dinners, and also requested a pitcher of water for the table.  As soon as the waiter had brought the water and left the table, he told me to make sure my legs were spread nice and wide, and to pull my dress up so that my bare ass was sitting on the cold wood bench of the booth, my dress bunched up in my lap.  He reached over and started playing with my pussy.

 

He placed the basket of salty popcorn in front of me. I nibbled and drank my water alternately, not noticing how often he filled my water glass.  We talked about trivialities. He played with me the entire time. 

 

Suddenly he turned to me and said, "You're all wet.  Why are you all wet?" 

 

I looked down and mumbled something. 

 

"What," he said, "I can't hear you. Speak up." 

 

I looked up and told him, "Because I’m excited." 

 

"No”, he said, “that's not the correct answer.  You know the answer.  I'll ask again.  Why are you all wet?" 

 

This time I answered correctly, "Because I'm a horny slut." 

 

He grinned.  "That's right" he said, “and don't you forget it.  Whose horny slut are you?" 

 

I responded with certainty: "I'm yours; I'm your horny slut.  And thank you for allowing me to wear my tail.  It feels so good."

 

The food arrived eventually and we ate in silence. From time to time he wiped his hand on the napkin and reached over to feel my tits or to reach down and check on the position of my legs and the condition of my pussy.  I ate very little, pushing my food around on my plate.  I began to squirm in her seat. 

 

"What's wrong, slut?" he asked. 

 

"Sir, I have to go to the bathroom." 

 

He chuckled out loud.  "You'll just have to wait.  I'm in the outside seat and I don't feel like getting up to let you out until I finish my dinner.  And no whimpering, no begging." 

 

I remained silent, but did squirm and continue to do so until he had finished his dinner.  He called for the check and gave the waiter his credit card.  As the restaurant was still crowded, it seemed to take forever for the waiter to come back with the card.  He signed off and told me to pull my dress down, then helped me slide out of the booth.  I started toward the ladies' room. 

 

He grabbed me by the ass and told me, "No. No. No. You ask permission first." 

 

"Please sir, may I go to the bathroom?" 

 

"Not yet," he said."  We'll stop on the way home." 

 

He led me by the hand to the cloak room and retrieved our coats while the "audience" watched me, the large-titted woman with the large nipples showing through my dress and the casually-dressed man go out the door.

 

He led me to the car, opened the door, and told me to get in.  He walked around to the driver's side and started the engine, telling me to keep my legs spread with my dress pulled up, just as I had in the restaurant.  He pulled out of the parking lot and as he did so, turned the car air conditioning on full blast.  One of the vents just happened to be aimed between my legs. 

 

I started to cry.  "Please, Sir, I don't think I can hold it any longer." 

 

He glanced in my direction as he pulled off the main highway onto an unpaved, bumpy side road.  "Don't you dare soil my leather seats," he told me.

 

After driving up the side road for a mile or two with me crying and doing my best to hold my legs apart, he pulled over. 

 

"Get out, bitch, and take a piss.  Just be glad that I didn't make you do it along the busy roadside." 

 

I scrambled out of the car, holding my dress up so that the tail swung as I stepped off to the side of the road, keeping my back to him; I stooped over and pissed like a racehorse.  After what seemed like forever, I looked around for something to wipe myself with. 

 

He rolled the power window down and called out.  "Just drip dry, my dear.  We'll have to clean you up back at your house."

 

He drove quickly on the winding roads, arriving back at my place in short order.  "I think I'll come in for a little nightcap,” he said.

 

As soon as we were inside he demanded that I remove all of my clothes. 

 

"Make a fire in the fireplace," he said as he made himself at home on a soft sofa, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. 

 

It took me a while to get the fire going, after which I went into the bathroom to wash the soot off my hands and to wipe my private parts clean.  I emerged and he motioned for me to come to him.  I walked over and began to sit down on the sofa.  He waved me away. 

 

"Sit on the floor in front of me." 

 

I did as I was told, spreading my legs apart.  The tail was still securely in its place, this time with the long hairs laid out behind me on the floor. 

 

He reached under the sofa and pulled out a small valise.  He opened it and began to fondle my tits.  He pulled the castration bands off the nipples, which were very tender by this time, and admired my prominent titties silently.  Next he pulled out a battery-operated vibrator and placed it on the floor next to me. 

 

Next the commands began.  "Take off my socks and shoes," he said. "Do it on your hands and knees.  Do it NOW." 

 

I scrambled up onto my hands and knees and methodically removed his socks and shoes, placing the socks inside the shoes and scurrying over to the hearth with shoes and socks in my mouth.  I placed them carefully – not too close but close enough to warm them.  I looked to him for approval and he nodded.  I returned on all fours to the couch, and kneeled in front of him with my hands clasped behind my neck, eyes downcast, presenting myself for his pleasure.  

 

He played with the tits again, slapping them and squeezing the nipples.  Lifting them, letting them drop.  Suddenly he stopped. 

 

"Spread those legs apart," he told me.  "Let me see you."

 

I moved my knees apart a few more inches. 

 

"I can see you need some help with this position," he said. 

 

He reached into the valise and pulled out a thin metal bar with hooks on the ends, and leather cuffs attached to the hooks. The metal bar "telescoped" with a few twists, and he lengthened it so it was at least two feet apart.  He reached down, kicked my legs apart, and attached the thigh cuffs in such a way that the spreader bar kept me uncomfortably spread as I kneeled on the floor.

 

He handed me the vibrator.  "Play with yourself.  Make it wet.  Push it in and out, rub it on the clit." 

 

He turned on the battery-operated device and handed it to me.  I began working on myself as he watched. I wiggled my ass from time to time, reminding myself of the tail, which only got me more excited.  I began to hump, pushing against the dildo, sliding it in and out.  Just as I was about to come, he reached down and took it away from me.

 

 "You're a horny slut, aren't you?" 

 

"Yes sir, but please may I satisfy myself?" I said. 

 

He chuckled.  "No, my little pussy; you'll have to wait for yours."   

 

Then came the next order.  “Lean forward, take your hands from behind your neck, and unzip my pants.  You may use your mouth, teeth, and lips if necessary.” 

 

I did so, feeling the hard lump between his briefs.

 

"Next layer," he said and I needed no more direction. 

 

I pulled his briefs down and, with his pants, folded them neatly and moved awkwardly on my knees, spread widely by the spreader bar, tail swinging, and placed his clothes near his shoes and socks on the hearth.  I waddled back with my tits swinging, still wearing my spreader bar, and made it back to the couch. 

 

He only had to say one word, "service."

 

 I kneeled forward and began to suck his cock.  My hands free, I was able use them to supplement my tongue and mouth.  I enjoyed myself, alternately sucking and tonguing.  Once,  I stopped and held my boobs together, sliding the cock in between them. 

 

"Do you like it?" he asked. 

 

I responded without hesitation, "Oh, yes sir.  I love to suck you, lick you, and feel you between my big titties." 

 

This went on for quite a while, and he finally decided it was time to cum.  He started cumming into my mouth, then pulled himself out and squirted it on my tits.  When he was finished he rubbed the cum into my tits as I pushed them forward to take it.   

 

He told me to suck him clean, which I did handily. Then he told me to turn around and watch the football game with him on TV.  I placed myself on the floor next to him, and he laid back on the sofa in such a way that he could reach down whenever he wanted and play with my tits, now nicely moisturized with his cum.

 

At halftime, he reached into the valise again.  He pulled out a hand pump and two narrow plexiglass tubes. I could barely contain myself.  Without being told, I turned to face him, legs still held obscenely apart by the spreader bar.  I placed my hands behind my neck, arched my back, and pushed my large tits toward him.  He used some vitamin E oil on the nipples, rubbing it in while I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, letting out a slight moan.

 

He placed the first tube over my left nipple, attached the pump to the end, and pumped the nipple into the tube using the vacuum.  When it was sucked into the tube over an inch he removed the pump and sealed the tube shut so it held the vacuum suction.  Next he did the same on the right nipple.  I just kneeled there, eyes closed, hands behind my head, pushing my tits toward him.  He knew he had me now; I would do whatever he wanted. 

 

Half time was over and he said nothing.  I remained in position.  When the game was over, he reached down, unfastened the thigh cuffs and removed the spreader bar, and told me to stand, helping me up by grabbing the vacuum tubes and pulling lightly. He took me by the tubes and led me to the bedroom.

 

He placed a blindfold over my eyes and removed the tubes.  As always with these adventures, my nipples were bright red, protruding obscenely, and – he knew – very sensitive.  He turned me around and removed the tail, throwing it on the floor.  He had me stand, legs spread wide, completely naked except for my blindfold, arms up and hands clasped behind my neck. He obviously relished the suspense – walking slowly in a circle around me as I knew he was looking me up and down.  I knew he was beginning to get hard again.  I began to quiver with anticipation, my pussy getting wet.

 

I heard him opening my closet and I knew he was taking out a soft carry-all bag.  He had trained me to keep it in the same place, toys clean, ready to go at any time.  First he pulled out a thick posture collar.  He ordered me to let my arms fall to my sides and fastened my collar.  As he turned to reach for something else in the bag, I reached down to play with myself.  He turned around quickly, catching me in the act.

 

He slapped my tits hard and reminded me in a sharp voice:  "Hands OFF."

 

I dropped my arms to my sides; next he wrapped a thick tight belt around my waist and fastened it.  He placed each arm in a cuff attached to the belt. 

 

"Hah, that'll keep those hands away from your hot little cunt," he laughed.

 

Then he took a thin strap from the carryall, attached it to the back of the belt with a small padlock, passed it between my thighs and walked to my front, pulled the strap up and tight so that it was buried between my ass cheeks and my cunt, and attached it to the belt in front with another small padlock.

 

I began to wiggle.  The strap felt so good that I thought I might be able to cum by simply wiggling and rubbing against it.  Not for long.  Next I felt the paddle; first on one ass cheek, then on the other.  He marched me around the room, tits swinging, arms at sides, blindfolded, collared, cunt-strapped. When my cheeks were nice and red, he moved on to another toy:  the cat o' nine tails.  Swinging it hard, he left stripes on my ass over the nice red glow.  He continued marching me around the room until I began to cry and beg for him to stop. 

 

"All right," he said.  "You don't want the paddle, you don't want the whip, what do you want?" 

 

"I want to cum, sir." 

 

He told me: "Beg me for it; get on your knees and beg me for it." 

 

I fell to my knees, rubbed my cheeks against his cock over and over, and I begged him for it.  I told him how much I loved being in the restaurant with him, and having him feel me up.  I told him how it turned me on to be exhibited in front of everyone in the restaurant.  I thanked him for letting me pee by the roadside, and for allowing me to wear the tail for hours.  I told him how much I loved the way he played with my tits.  I thanked him again and again for putting the vacuum tubes on my nipples.  I begged him, over and over, to let me cum.  In response to his questions, I admitted time and again that I was a horny slut; a cunt.

 

He led me to the bed and laid me down on my back.  He left the blindfold and collar in place, the belt and arm restraints.  He removed the cunt strap from between my ass cheeks and legs, unlocking the padlocks with a small key on his keychain.  He spread my legs wide and tied the ankles tight to each bedpost.  I continued to beg.  He climbed onto the bed and began to play with me, to taunt me.  He played with the tits.  He pulled the pussy hairs.  He stroked the pussy. He reached underneath and stuck a small butt plug in my ass.  I was wiggling, humping, moaning like an animal.

 

Finally, when I was good and hot, good and wet, and nearly over the edge with desire, he went down on me.  He licked me, sucked me.  He opened me and found my clit and ran his tongue over it.  It was only seconds later that I began to buck my hips hard and cry out softly,

 

"Thank you, oh my god, thank you, I'm cumming, ohhhh thank you." 

 

He stopped and I quieted down.  In a few short minutes, I was asleep.  He covered me with a blanket, removed the collar and blindfold, and left ankles tied and my belt and arm restraints on.  He headed home.

 

As he drove home he probably chuckled.  He could just see it when I woke up.  No way to move my arms; nice tight belt around my waist, ankles tied to the bedposts.  I hadn't had a chance to pee since the roadside.  He wondered if I would be able to hold it until he got back in the morning to untie me and work me over again, or if I would lose it and soil the bed.   Lucky he required that I keep a waterproof mattress cover on the bed. 

 

"If I lose it during the night, and the bed is already soiled, he’ll take a piss on me when he gets here in the morning.  What a way to wake up; a nice warm master's piss alarm clock." 

 

Regardless, he would make me clean myself in front of him tomorrow, and have me wear my tight latex maid's outfit, the one that barely covered the nipples, while he watched me straighten up around the house. Once finished with my hygiene and my chores, he could work me over again, and see to his own pleasure.  Whatever he wanted was his.  This slut belonged to him.